What Happened Last Session
Payment Delivered, Horror Discovered
The journey to Gandrunne concluded successfully, with Kilmin’s agents proving as reliable as their word. The promised 300 gold pieces and quality sailboat awaited the party exactly as arranged, a tangible reward for your crucial role in unifying the isles. The upgrade from your simple longboat was immediately apparent—better speed, improved storage, and the promise of reaching previously inaccessible destinations across the Isles of Andrik.
Yet your satisfaction was destined to be brief. As you approached the seer village of Rolug, you encountered Garatha in circumstances none could have anticipated. She wasn’t seeking revenge for her father Karlsgald’s death—she was bloodied, panicked, and watching her men be slaughtered by something far worse than any personal vendetta. The village was under assault, and old conflicts became irrelevant in heartbeats.
When Devils Walk Among Us
Rolug burned with infernal precision. This wasn’t the chaos of random demon incursion but military execution—green pig-faced dretches and barbed devils working in coordinated strikes against specific targets. The seers. Always the seers. They died crying that the gods had abandoned them, their divine connections severed moments before infernal blades found flesh.
You fought alongside Garatha in the maelstrom, temporary alliance forged in desperation. Rogdan, Kilmin’s werebear father, threw himself into the defense with the fury of someone who understood what was at stake. The combat was brutal and close, salt spray mixing with blood as you cut through devils that reformed faster than they fell. But the mission—whatever dark purpose drove this assault—was already complete.
The Price Paid in Blood and Silence
Rogdan fell defending ground that couldn’t be held, his sacrifice buying time for nothing except your survival. Garatha joined him in death, finding an end more honorable than her father’s but no less final. You stood amid the carnage and felt something fundamental shift in the world around you. The familiar comfort of divine connection, the sense of being witnessed by powers beyond mortal comprehension—gone. Not blocked. Not weakened. Simply… absent.
The Assembly of Ash had achieved their goal with surgical precision. Every seer in Rolug lay dead, their connections to the divine systematically severed. And in the aftermath, you discovered that silence extended to yourselves. Your gods didn’t answer. Not because they chose silence, but because the connection had been cut. The archdevils commanded their forces with overwhelming authority and withdrew with their mission complete, leaving you alive to witness what happens when divine oversight fails.
Picking Up the Pieces
You recovered what you could—an obsidian statue, a mead tankard, trinkets that meant nothing compared to what had been lost. Kilmin would need to know his father died a hero. The isles would need to govern without divine guidance. And you would need to learn whether the power you’d once channeled through gods could be accessed another way, or if that too had been taken.
The sailboat waited at Gandrunne, payment fulfilled and adventure beckoning. Adagar still needed transport to his homeland. The Sea Nymphs location at Invergheim whispered promises of discovery. But every plan now carried the weight of what you’d witnessed—forces moving in the world that made mortal politics seem like children’s games, and a silence where once there had been divine witness.
Looking Ahead
Carmin remains High King in title while Kilmin handles governance, but that arrangement just became infinitely more complicated. Without his father’s guidance and without divine legitimacy to fall back on, Kilmin must rule through practical authority alone. The loss of the seers across the region means communities everywhere face the same crisis—no divine guidance, no sacred authority, just mortal decisions in an increasingly dangerous world.
You’ve chosen to continue exploring the Isles of Andrik rather than flee to Wildetide, but exploration now means venturing into territory where the gods no longer watch. The trolls emerging from places divine wards once sealed, the political instability spreading through communities that relied on seer guidance, the lingering question of whether the Assembly of Ash considers their work complete or merely beginning—all of it waits beyond your bow. The 300 gold feels lighter than it should, and the sailboat represents freedom into waters that have grown considerably darker.
When demons descend from the sky, mortal politics become footnotes in someone else’s story.