What Happened Last Session
When the Storm Gods Say Wait
Crixbin tested his newfound power as a Level 5 spellcaster, feeling the divine-yet-not-divine energy of Mass Cure flow through him with surprising strength. Hagen looked healthier than the day before—his Gorgoth Fruit addiction finally broken by Crixbin’s intervention, though the permanent HP loss served as a stark reminder of the Black Tree’s price. Adagar vibrated with barely contained excitement at the docks, eager to finally reach Dvergheim after weeks of delay.
Then the tempest hit. Massive storm clouds rolled across the sky as the party prepared to sail, and the choice became clear: risk the ship in deadly waters, or wait out the two-day storm and explore the sacred Runestones to the north. The party chose patience and curiosity over haste.
Glittering Lies and Fey Warnings
The journey north revealed a world stranger than expected. While fishing that first evening, Carmin hooked something that fought back—a sea nymph armed and furious. Crixbin turned potential combat into diplomacy with a single well-placed Cure Wounds spell, healing the injured nymph rather than harming her companion. The grateful creatures fled after mentioning “faeries” and “Alfheim” in hushed, fearful tones.
The next day brought more mysteries. Glowing diamonds ranging from pinhead to dragon-egg size lined the river shore, beautiful and impossible. Agaron tested one—it turned to dust in his hand. Crixbin’s Detect Magic revealed magic suffusing the area, but not the diamonds themselves. The source remained hidden, the purpose unclear. That evening, the party watched in silence as over a hundred miniature faeries—delicate creatures with moth wings—flew north in organized groups of four. Hagen identified them as low-level casters capable of illusion magic, dangerous in numbers. Something was drawing them northward in coordinated migration, but what?
The Valkyrie’s Lesson
The Runestones stood like crooked teeth in grassy fields, each carved with seawolfian runes telling the story of a warrior killed in battle. Carmin saw opportunity where others saw sacred ground. Despite Hagen’s moral disapproval, graves were opened. First grave: nothing. Second grave: ancient gold. Largest grave: a skeleton in holy robes clutching a Crimson Holy Symbol of Loki worth 55 gold, small rubies glinting in the light.
Thunder cracked. Lightning split the sky. She descended in fury—a Valkyrie with burning red eyes, speaking all languages simultaneously, demanding justice for desecration. Carmin ran. His shield shattered under her spear, 15 damage in two devastating strikes. She turned to Dolitan, the bard who’d helped dig, and drove her weapon clean through his chest in a single terrible thrust. He collapsed, dying.
Crixbin sprinted across the battlefield and pressed his hands to Dolitan’s chest, pouring healing energy into the wound. Twelve hit points flooded back, painfully stitching torn flesh together as Dolitan gasped back to consciousness. The Valkyrie watched, then spoke: “I hope this teaches you a lesson.” She rose into the sky. Every treasure was returned. Every grave was closed. The lesson was learned.
Carousing in a Quieter Gandrunne
The return to Gandrunne revealed subtle but unmistakable changes. The town felt quieter—not peaceful, but uncertain. Kilmin reported faction leaders missing, citizens panicking without divine guidance, people questioning whether power granted the right to rule. The divine severance wasn’t just affecting clerics; it was shaking the foundations of leadership itself.
The party spent the evening carousing with wild abandon. Hagen pulled off an ill-advised heist in the Seer’s Tower, escaping with five magic crossbow bolts that trail sparkles and can command wild animals on hit. Zahlie donated wealth to a glib seer and received a minotaur hoof with gold horseshoe worth 50 gold, ascending to Level 5 in a rush of power. Astrid started a tavern brawl charming multiple men simultaneously—earning experience but getting barred from Gandrunne taverns. Carmin reflected an angry wizard’s spell back at him. Crixbin survived blindfolded knife throwing. Both Hagen and Zahlie felt their capabilities expanding in a world that seemed to need stronger heroes with each passing day.
Blood on the Shore
The storm ended. Favorable winds granted swift passage toward Valthis. But as the ship approached, the scene waiting on shore stopped all conversation: nine Nords—hostile, far-aligned, hunting—stood near the waterline. Signe lay on the ground, surrounded by approximately a dozen dead Nords, her status impossible to determine from this distance.
The Nordic invasion had begun.
Looking Ahead
Adagar’s homecoming to Dvergheim will have to wait. The immediate crisis demands attention: Signe surrounded by corpses, hostile Nords still standing, and the mystery of what happened at Valthis. The party’s choice to help Kilmin unify the isles now means they cannot ignore threats to those isles—even when it delays personal promises.
Beyond the immediate combat, deeper questions linger. Why is the storm giant Hrimthul interested specifically in Adagar? What is the source of the diamond illusion magic, and why did over a hundred faeries fly north in organized formation? Most troubling: if Valkyries still function despite the divine severance, what does that mean about the nature of divine power? The gods may be silent, but their warriors clearly are not. And in a world where citizens question the right of mortals to rule without divine mandate, every choice the party makes carries weight far beyond the immediate moment.
“The gods may fall silent, but their guardians remember every grave, and some lessons are written in pain rather than prayer.”