Matt's Rise of the Runelords

The Skinsaw Murders, Session 5 9/26/09

Session XP Award: 3000
Stuff: Ring of Jumping, Ring of Protection +1, War Razor +1, Heavy Pick +1, Stalker’s Mask, 8 bottles of Chelaxian Wine (100gps each), Silver Dinner Set (1000gps), 3 violet garnets (100gp each), Silver keyring (10gps), plain iron key, ornate iron key with opal (100gps)
Characters Present
Etina Jewelfist, Monk
Kajsa Bramblington & Mrow, Druid and Firepelt companion
Kloq Swarqmor & Bully, Ranger and dog companion
Yseult Angevin, Cleric of Cayden Cailean


Foxglove Manor, Late afternoon Tuesday November 4th 4708AR

Leaving the revnant in her misery the group heads down into the lower reaches of the old manor. The kitchen was in shambles, and quickly the reason for a least some of the destruction became evident as sickly, dirty rats burst from cracks in the wall surging forth biting and scratching and gnawing. Applications of violence and fire and more violence manage to disperse the rat swarms but not before many in the group suffer bites and scratches from the filthy creatures.

Pressing further into the basement they find what looks to be an old arcane workshop, old books, tools, and dead rats in cages… well, the rats probably aren’t part of the original decor, they look only a week or two dead. Kloq experiences a vision in stained glass, a pantomime tale of a man on a quest to become a lich.

Further in, a stairway down into the depths. Visions of ghouls tearing at Etina… and a voice, just behind her “For you”. Ghouls hidden in the mud, hidden in the bones… ghouls of goblin warriors… and then a stone door.

Beyond, the lair of his Lordship, Aldern, the Skinsaw Man… all personalities at war inside the undead creature he had become. Brooding in the dark, watched over by the remnants of his great grandfather’s failure, remants of his obsession arrayed before him.

After his defeat the party makes its’ way out of the house, past a giant undead bat, and discover the storm abating and the undead crows gone. Heading north to Sandpoint as night falls, the lure of rest and the succor of civilization calling to them.


instantapathy anonynos

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