I had just about had enough of Samms chatter when our wagon pulled up near the Old Hills (some hills that were named after their age, it would appear), to a village that definitely had an aroma. The village’s sheriff met us at the gates, a nice old man who went by the name Donus Harn. He seemed vaguely interested in our backgrounds, but was expecting our arrival as a matter of urgency, and so we convinced him to discuss the village’s immediate dangers down at the local tavern over some warm and questionably flavoured mead, served up by a fellow half elf called Jona Mystwalker. They explained that girls had been going missing, so we decided to go check out the next girl on the hitlist, Miss Marillia Hardwick. It turns out Samm can be quite a useful addition to the party, at least when he stops talking, as the Hardwick residence was indeed attacked whilst we were there, by stone gargoyles, of all things. We beat them back before they could get to the girl. I’m sure she’ll return the favour at a later date.
We discovered from the local temple that clerics can be just as forgetful as me, as Lucian and Andrea swore that they had seen something useful on a high tower somewhere, but couldn’t quite distil their information into anything more concrete. Ironic for clerics of Ioun, god of knowledge. We did the rounds, talking to most of the village to try and find out where these gargoyles could be coming from, and in the end, got told to head to a tower in the east.
On the way there we bumped into the most foul mouthed and rude merchant trader imaginable. She had some nice gear on her, but I wouldn’t do business with such a wretched cow. Highbourne needs a good kick in the chin, damn gypos.
We found the tower, and purged it of all monsters. Turns out some old hag was trying to get back a soul of something, by stealing the virtue off innocent girls. There were no beautiful heroines to rescue, just one naked samm, who’d got himself captured. Typical.