Often considered nothing more than a minstrel’s old yarn to keep the kids awake at night, the portents of this old piece of doggerel has rattled about the heads of the Company of Paladine’s Delight like a head cold. So they approached Winterhaven.
Lay of the Kinslayer
In shadowed Keep of tumbled stone,
A Peril hides, for years unknown,
The Kinslayer’s spirit guards it yet,
‘Gainst the very Child he did beget.
The thing of evil sent darkened dreams,
Nightmares wrought of tortured screams,
The vowed defender’s sword did rend,
Murder in Fate’s hated hand.
Awakened to the naked Truth,
Shattered bones of men in their youth,
His wife and children, pride and joy,
Twas devils rage and he destroyed.
The Kinslayer met his death alone,
For wicked deeds he would atone,
So awaits he for the fated time,
Forgiveness grant for hated crime.
Visions echo through the halls,
Ghostly blood runs ‘long the walls,
None can face those cursed remains
Fear like water in their veins.
If seek ye treasure, fame or greed,
Kinslayer’s words be wise to heed,
Be ye born of purest light,
None can withstand the endless night.
Winterhaven was a walled town with gates shut tight against the stirring’s of the evil dead in their very graveyard. The faithful Company soon smashed those malcontents, including a mysterious elven archer who carried a suggestive letter that betrayed a password and perhaps an intimate relationship with someone living beneath the fallen stones of the Keep of Shadow. The villagers later said she was a huntress named Ninaran and she often brought game for sale but made no friends.
And so the Company quickly made its way into the Cairngorm Mountains, trekking up to the lonely peak were the ruins of the Keep were busy being buried by time. There were signs of Goblins about and they were soon discovered below. After a first encounter with goblin guards, swarms of rats and a hidden pit, the Company rested and were soon joined by three more companions.
Now they were six: Hans Olo the hobbit rogue, Glide Cleric of Paladine, Myrsaal Paladin of Paladine, Dram the Hellboy, Rael the Wizard and last but not least Radnar of the Spear and Shield. Together they attacked the goblin lair.
A guard raised the alarm and soon the sounds of drums and clash bells could be heard resounding throughout the dungeon. The Company charged through one door into a torture room only to find themselves beset but a flanking attack. The halls filled with the clang of steel, the scorch of eldritch flames and the screams of the dying. Many goblins died, moreso when their leader arrived with reinforcement from the rear. Balgron the Fat charged right by everyone leaped the smoking carcasses of his minions and fled.
After a short breather, and the interrogation of a couple prisoners, the party found themselves lead about the dungeon by a cringingly obsequious guide, one Splug, saved from the rack, glad to be rid of the torment of his kinsmen, guilty only of the crime of preffering mushroom farming to stealing stabbing and burning. Gleefully he directed the chase to the treasures of Balgron the Fat and to the redoubt of his final minions and the place of his final stand. Dram ended Balgron’s career with the tendrils of the eternal void bursting his very corpuscular structure.
It was a victory over goblins. But what terrors awaited in the Halls of the Dead?