Freak Legion Campaign Log

Night One: Mists and Mysteries

When the mists rolled away, four figures stood on the sandbar in the middle of the swamp. Stumbling toward them through the fetid waters was the last of the transported. Most were confused, all were wary of their new companions.

Argent the Revelator knew where he was, for his god and liege--Orion the Hunter, the great Grendel Khan--had informed him he would be sent to the Demiplane of Dread. He was to earn his place among the righteous Grendel Paladins and to spread the Order of Grendel, recruiting the good and converting the evil to follow Orion’s oath. For some reason (and one does not question the reasoning of one’s god) in the land of Ravenloft the Grendel Khan was known as Ezra.

Standing around Argent were those who would become his companions and brothers in arms...

• Andrea, a human Bard who was only now ceasing to play on her pipes.
• Ludmilla, a Paladin like Argent, except that she was an Aasimar with the crystaline blood of angels in her veins rather than the brass blood of demons.
• Melesande, a drow monk, cast out from the Shadow Rift and exhiled by her dark kin.
• The elven ranger, silent as a grave, who merely watched and listend to those around him.
• Crowfix, barbarian prince of the Frozen Wastes, drew close to them greatsword held to the ready in this strange land where water had to be waded through rather than walked upon.

Argent was covered in a heavy cloak, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face, for in this land it was known that folk feared those who were not of their kind...

Okay, was all that suitably dramatic for you? Good, because at the moment I don’t have enough time to keep up the style, so that bit’ll have to last you.

The group of us slogged through the swamp for some time, trying to find our way to dry land. We were attacked by some giant frogs, which were dispatched largely by Crowfix. That night we stumbled into a Vistani (i.e. gypsy) camp and they gave us shelter and told us rumors of mysterious happenings nearby. In the morning they were gone, carried away by the mists, but a raft was found that could carry us dryly though the swamp. An alligator that was slain by Crowfix and Argent, but not before taking a rather large bite out of the mysterious ranger. Under a sky that threatened with lightning and thunder, we pressed on.

We found a strange, catatonic, lantern-bearing boy in a swamp shack (obviously tended to by someone, and whom we later learned was named Luc) who followed us as we left him. We eventually found town and arrived in time to witness a funeral where the dearly departed wasn’t quite resting in peace, judging by the chains that held the coffin shut and the pounding sounds that came from inside the casket as the mourners placed it in the vault.

From the priest we learned of mysterious murders and disappearances in this town of six hundred. The townsfolk seemed sad but strangely unconcerned. I knew we had found a task worthy of our attentions. With Melesande and Argent concealing their true natures, we took rooms in the local in and prepared for a busy evening.

After meditating upon his Oath to Orion, Argent announced his intentions to all those gathered in the inn: to stand guard over those in the graveyard to ensure the dead lay fast in their graves. The party went to the cemetary (scaling the wall to gain entrance) and arrived in time to find two ghouls in the process of tearing the chains free of the coffin that was lain to rest that afternoon. Battle was joined.

Argent’s glaive skewered the larger of the two. Prince Crowfix’s greatsword crushed the second and the momentum was enough that he was able to Cleave through Argent’s opponent, slicing away it’s last dwindling ounce of unlife. Argent then shattered the damaged chains of the coffin so that the ranger could end the torment of the zombie child within. We discovered the secret door the ghouls used to gain entrance to the cemetary, but could not find where they came from. Our work done, we retired for the night, and were greeted as heroes by the townfolk (who are still unaware of the true natures of Melesande and Argent).

Offering our services to the local constable, we were given some clues that we tracked as best we could. One came from Luc, who occassionaly would spout nonsense verse in his catatonic state. Our bard finally realized the source of these rhymes: a scroll that had predicted the cataclysmic Conjunction that had occurred sixteen years past. This discovery was turned from unsettling to frightening when those in the party native to Ravenloft came to realize that the mists had carried them through time as well as space: to the time directly before the Conjuction. Now we knew our mission.

In the meantime we had to deal with a magical assault in the inn that sickened many, weakened some, killed few, and even transformed one into a zombie. Argent and the elven ranger moved swiftly to attack and easily dispatched the monster, but not before an innocent bystander was killed.

By evening, our clues and questioning had led us to the plantation outside of the village. All windows were dark except for those of one room in the back. When we approached those windows we saw two ghouls laying out dinner for the absent master of the house: a throat-slit corpse, fresh from the village. A third ghoul noticed us and battle was again joined. In the end, the bard and the barbarian were both temporarily paralyzed, but we were triumphant.

Where is the master of the house, and when will he return? Is he the one we seek, or is there a larger scheme at hand?