Carrion Crown, starring Inquisitor Victoria van Helm.
Esteemed Witch Hunter Coim,
I will say this much of my new travelling companions; they are certainly not lacking in character, and I anticipate that if left unchecked, the party would accomplish great deeds with reckless abandon, for all their moral or ethical shortcomings.
As per your orders, I joined the party of strangers as they prepared to depart; they took kindly to my presence, especially the supplies that accompanied me, and we departed Viche. When we arrived at Carrion Hill, we parted ways with the gunslinger, Crane. She always struck me as a bit of a lone wolf, so this isn't surprising.
We left Carrion Hill to journey through the mountains to get to Thrushmoor. In the night, Hecathia noticed a swarm of giant ticks somehow; we elected to exercise discretion and escape.
Not wishing to sleep in the open, the Paladin, Ronan, found a cave; Kalathas ignited a fire in the cave mouth. Attempts to explore the depth of the cave were stopped by a pair of doors, stuck fast.
Attempts to open the door caused rocks to fall, some of which reformed into a stone elemental. It was a formidable creature, and Kalathas eats several knuckle sandwiches and goes down. I sunk a good heal into her, but it was no good. Too late.
We beat the thing, and buried Kalathas minus her valuables.
The next morning, we decided to retry opening the door. Beyond was a large room, with two earth elementals at each side; a pile of corpses lay in the middle of the room, and there were magic items in there, one of them illuminating the pile from within.
I stole forward and liberated some items from the pile; the source of light, a magic dagger, an impressively shiny shield, a ring of Featherfall, and some gems (2x worth 500, 1x 120). I returned to the party with the items; we discuss burying the corpses. Given the silent-for-now sentinels, it doesn't seem viable. We settle for pouring some of Kalathas holy water on the corpse pile, to sanctify them.
We returned to the campsite we had abandoned the night before; the ticks left it alone, and we have a spare horse now. Minus what I presume was a friend, the party moved on, down the winding mountain road.
We reached Hyannis on the 3rd of Desnus. Nothing much has changed; it remains a mining town. Reports of the ghost of a witch haunting the mine remain strong and substantial.
Rowan offered to bless / make holy water at cost. The villagers assemble silver items to be ground down into dust. While he did that, I inquired about where the ghost / incidents happened. The party did not wish to leave the mine alone, and so we went ghost hunting.
In the mine, a ball of light appeared before Rowan, and he struggled with it. Hearing a scream behind us, I went back, and found the ghost. With the aid of Lucia, I shanked the ghost to death.
Unfortuntely, what I feared came to pass; we can't kill it permanently, and we'd need to consecrate the *entire* mine to get rid of it, which has a prohibitive cost.
Hecathia: "Don't we have a shitload of powdered silver?"
Everyone else: "Wait, you mention this *AFTER* we grind up the townspeople's silver?"
The silver is of dubious provenance, likely liberated from a necromancer's coffers, and it might not be safe to use at this time. We cannot linger in the village to keep killing the ghost, necromancers call us to battle, but we left them with the holy water we had created; the Church in Thrushmoor should have the resources to handle this, especially with the party's store of powdered silver, and we'll try sending them back here to purify the mine.
For now, we move on to Rosenport.
Glory to Pharasma,