In which we run some errands in town, make a mysterious contact, and head out into a new adventure

Our DM is  Sasha Rose Hansen 

The players, in alphabetical order:

Carbry -  Bryn Ziegler 

Gary -  Rebecca Michelson 

Renora -  Tori Chancellor 

Spencer Charlemagne -  Jacob Earl 

Tongs - Grayson Abele

We’re produced by Jacob Earl 

Our theme music is “Rathgars Theme” and is available through  LateMoonRecords.com 

Tune in next week at  RathgarsHorde.com and as always, we may be cursed, but I promise will make it through alive. 

spencer’s diary, fourteen.

   Back in the world we gave testimony on our latest adventure – although there was a good deal of discussion about which details to include.

We went back to our room & I remembered that stupid music box so I put it in the common room & went to sleep. about 3 in the morning I woke up to find the demon stomping on the box — to no effect, it’s magic, ding dong! At this point the golem woke up and  we worked on opening the box to maybe stop it — and eventually we got there. It was mostly the golem. Inside was a, spore, a seed? It zapped me when  I tried to touch it. Once I realized it was a plant I gave it to the giant — who it also zapped once even though I warned them. We wanted to use the “Encyclopedia BEEstica” but its not a beast. Got some good info on Harold though. He’s a BABY for SURE and he cant spit ink or change color. 

After that I went back to sleep & woke up real late, and when I did the monk was standing at the foot of my bed demanding things. She had all MY STUFF? Didn’t really explain why and she had taken but didn’t HAVE some of my money, a good third of it. We went off home, we’re from the same ring, she’s from that spooky rude monastery on the parshland ridge. But first we went to close out my notebook drop and Trisha fucking sold me out & I only got 67 old journals. We barely made it out of there — turns out being a world walker doesn’t exactly outrank a city guard. I did get tommy’s outfit though so I guess I can pretend to be a parsh guard if I want, poor ol Tommy what a dope.

The monk had business in the monastery but they wouldn’t let me in. She turned invisible, was gone along time, and came back mad. I cant figure out the sning so I gave it to the giant because it feels more like their sort of thing. The demon gave the monk a big bag of money but it took me stealing from her to give me my money back. Apparently even though we didn’t find the light or whatever we “did a great job” and we’re to be sent to “a brand new, uncharted world” and that’s where we are now. This place, so far, much better than qein. First off we landed in an adondoned town that had a map of the world, we don’t know the NAME of the world yet but we found a book my this ethnographer named Alexandra. 

I wonder what the parsh guard are gonna do with over a hundred years of my notes. I think I got about the most recent 15-17 years or so but like, the statute of limitation has got to have run out on a lot of that stuff, right? They’re welcome to read them I guess but I would like them back. Maybe I can get the director to sue an injunction or send them a note or something. This world looks super cool, covered in water and mountains. In the diary we found there was this passage about the town we landed in: 

Emersonville was founded by Gene Emerson, a man some say had too much money to burn. A wealthy trader from Sdelka Capitol, Emerson had made his fortune on lace and other luxury textiles. He was hugely successful, but he chafed at the taxes he was required to turn over to his guild and the Sdelkan Government. So he decided to create his own community outside the boundaries of their power and named it Emersonville. He moved all his workers to the still-developing outpost and forced those accustomed to spinning silk and tapestries to create the buildings of the would-be luxury utopia. His workers bent their backs to his promises, their ears filled with promises of long retirements spent enjoying their hard work’s riches. But of course, it was all for naught. 

After building only 1/5th of the planned community, disease swept through the countryside. Many of the inhabitants of Emersonville, including Gene himself, died. With his death, the money to continue building dried up, and the beleaguered and bereaved survivors fled, mostly back into the arms of the Sdelka Empire. 

Now Emersonville is a ghost-town filled with roads that lead to empty foundations or nothing at all. The town’s remains have been picked mostly clean, but the buildings, some only partially completed, that still stand are beautiful and strange in their way. The workers, having been trained in the delicate patterns of fabric and lace and told they were to build a utopia, let their sense of pattern and structure run wild.

The surrounding environment is mostly pine forest with some aspens and other non-evergreens by small streams. The soil is mostly reddish dirt with mountains in the distance.