From the personal log of Archibald Bothwell Ross
It seemed prudent after the poaching of my literary gains to keep notes of my further adventures in order to ensure that all future profits related to my adventures are secured. With that in mind, I’ve recently begun to keep a journal of my exploits. Soon, every dinner table and watering hole will echo the exploits of Lord Bothwell and his capable band of compatriots.
Our most recent travels saw us leave the relative safety of Schloss Caramarc. After learning that our adversaries had a ten day head start on us in traveling to Ascanor Lodge, we left in relative haste. I had to leave behind my luxuriously appointed carriage in favor of old reliable, my feet. In addition, we left behind our new friend the Beast; he will finally join his “father” in their ancestral home as the head of security. The count had few choices after the rather thorough job that the band of necromancers did of slaughtering his staff. The Judge remained as well to play caretaker of the count in his poor health.
Luckily, there was a quick, secret path blazed by the Count’s ancestors in decades past, so we were able to make good time. Unfortunately, the necromancers took the same route. At least we didn’t lose any more time on them. Despite the disuse of the path for some time, it was surprisingly well maintained. Rain forced us to move at a slower pace, though, and eventually No Brows heard music from a decrepit tower and recommends that we stop there for the night. Naturally, we go inside and burn a fortune in spider silk along with the corpses of whomever had been unlucky enough to visit the tower in the past. We killed some spider woman monstrosity that lived in a passage below the tower with ease and weathered the evening there.
The next day, we reached Ascanor Lodge and were nearly killed by a booby-trapped werewolf that some rake had rigged to a shotgun. Luckily my stunning good looks deflected the shot and preserved my rugged jawline. We ran into the gentleman shortly thereafter; he was as dumb as the trap would have indicated. After all, who exactly did he expect to attract by leaving a butchered werewolf carcass tied to a tree in a place where hunters have come explicitly to collect trophy pelts? The rest of the Lodge’s visible staff seemed intelligent, but before we could chat with the Lodge Master, we were dragged into an ill-conceived hunt with the previously mentioned fop and his hunting party. Nothing really came of the hunt other than the fact that the man decided against the advice of the Huntsmaster and my own companions to stay overnight in the woods. Later, one of his men returned to the Lodge and was eventually let in to recount the horrors of the werewolf attack on their camp; this was all after it was determined that he was not infected with lycanthropic disease.
Before all of that excitement ensued, however, we were finally able to meet with the Lodge Master and get the truth about the Necromancers. The head necromancer was named Auren Vrood, and he possessed a standing invitation to the Lodge just as the Count had. The Lodge Master also gave us a detailed history of the packs of werewolves that populated the Woods and how they came to inhabit the region… I won’t bother to record the notes again here as I have taken them already in another document. However, we are able to examine Vrood’s room, and using some of my extraordinary bardic magic, I peer into the past and glimpse Vrood discussing the murder of the head of one of the packs of werewolves (NOTE TO GM: I forget what the exact significance of this was, so rather than make it up and mislead people, perhaps you can fill in the blank here), after which he made a very hasty retreat.
This very morning, I was informed by Otto, budding connoisseur of Varisian women (with fine tastes, I might add), that somehow it escaped my notice that there was a gorgeous Varisian Madame that operates a small bordello on the lodge. Apparently, Vrood held a secret meeting in her quarters, so I will need to visit the room and see what insights we can glean by checking the it’s history. I would also like to ask the staff if they recognize the crest on the belt buckles I pulled from the charred corpses we discovered in the Spider-beast’s den. Hopefully they can be properly buried by their families when they are notified about the remains’ location.
Time is running short this morning, though, so I will have to stop sometime in the next few days to record more of our adventures as they happen.