Session Notes
The Guilds of Darkmoor have served the realm nearly as long as there has been one to serve. Of all the institutions of Darkmoor, they have best weathered the period of anarchy and depression, post-War. Much of the continued success of this faction can be attributed to the leadership of the guilds, and in particular to their current High Guildsmaster, Andreas Book. While trade with Darkmoor’s neighbors is only a shadow of its former glory, it, along with the taxes paid by the oppressed nobles, accounts entirely for the coin that runs through the fingers of Lord Grey, Baron of Darkmoor.
Is it the continued success of the Guilds that has caused so much recent upset and rancor in Elder Pool? Shopkeepers and innocents of the street have run afoul of these new Dark Cloaks who seek to inspire terror and disrupt business in the heart of Darkmoor’s capital, all going about their criminal business with impunity. With no answer from the Circle of Darkmoor, recently returned from their vacation in the marshes.
It is I, Dear Reader, Buck Headstrong! How your eyeballs surely have suffered in the absence of these carefully printed missives! My apologies, friend. Never again shall you have to withstand such a sustained famine of the legendary honey that drips from my mouth and pen, I promise.
And what of that shadowy being, Fluffy? I can say only that you my relationship with that ungrateful rodent is fully exhausted. Good riddance, I say.
Let us turn then to the Circle of Darkmoor and the violence that has become such a commonplace under the rule of this latest Grey. Andreas Book, as well as his close associate met with the Circle. Subsequent to that meeting, the Circle approached one of the victims of the recent Dark Cloak violence, Shen Varle, local cobbler. We all have seen the violence done to poor Shen.
Subsequent to their interrogation of that frail cobbler, already, surely, having suffered enough, the Circle then made their way to the cemetery. Not, though, I am told, based on anything they learned from poor Shen. As, by now, we have all learned, I suppose, the Circle discovered some sort of hidden temple or shrine beneath the mausoleum of one of the former great families of Darkmoor, where Dark Cloaks were carrying out rites of an unholy nature involving nearly a dozen citizens, recently murdered.
The Circle then made their way to the hut of kindly local herbalist, Salina Tamsen. I am told, Dear Reader, that the Circle asked her to evaluate a number of items, including a powerful, dangerous poison which that suspicious tool of Anthracite — you know the one — having learned of the chemical’s fell nature, tucked into a secret pouch with a foreboding leer.
Word reaches us, Dear Reader, of unspeakable violence in the small village of Greensward. Violence is growing throughout the Barony, it is now clear. Something is simmering, bubbling, festering in Darkmoor. A dark shadow is creeping across the land.
Who amongst you believes that this Baron and his selected Circle are capable of any course other than, as has been their repeated pattern, turning matters towards the worse?
You shall hear more from me soon, loyal reader.