PIP
WAGH
Session 19
Level 2 - Wealth 2 - Renown 3 - Victories 7 - EXP 20
7/27/2026
Session begins in the town of Willowmere where the party has been investigating what is going on with the strange brainwashed population. The party had just spoken with Ashleigh’s sister, Neira, and her husband, and found them to be among the affected by the Night Choir’s enchantment. Garth (husbando) defined strength as, “to be the rose that survives the winter” which Gravitax took to mean, “be the last man standing.”
We go outside Neira’s house and take some time to make earplugs in preparation for tonight’s performance. There aren’t many people around so we seek out a tavern. Nobody is manning the store. We fill up our mugs and continue our walk around town. As it gets later more people come out and they appear to be training. We see a reasonably skilled sword bro sparring with a couple guys. Sharpening each other’s skills. We encourage our resident gladiator to give him a go. Val Ethron knocks him down, but it takes nearly all his stamina to do it. This dude is a tough motherfucker. He introduces himself as King. He is more interested in strength than protecting his town or honor, which is at odds with his former identity as a soldier. All this bullshit about only the strong being worthy really pisses off R’owh and she starts to get hissy and mutters disparaging things about the town under her breath in Lunthar. Thunaxx takes out a baggie of catnip and sprinkles some in a nearby empty crate. R’owh looks irritated because she knows what Thunaxx is up to but goes and sits in the crate anyway and drinks her beer.
More people seem to come out and they’re all training in some way, physically, or magic-wise. Gravitax takes some time to observe some psionic casters to see what he can figure out of their technique. R’owh decides to go check out the altar again. When she questions a villager, she says they built the altar out of the bones of enemies they primitively attacked to protect the village, mostly orcs and goblins. She’s clearly brainwashed too. Very annoying.
Val Ethron and R’owh go to the tavern in the evening. A town meeting is going on where they’re discussing what they think the Night Choir’s lyrics mean. Some complain about the kingdom of Thalorin for taxing them in what they believe is an excessive manner. They think the lyrics speak about that and corrupt aristocracy. Someone named Jeff believes the lyrics speak of a magical plague coming.
We spend the night in the town and kill time until the performance the following night.
We arrive early enough at the stage to be seated toward the front. Val Ethron chooses to hide in the forest next to the audience seating. Sandor, Gravitaxx, Val Ethron, and Thunaxx choose to wear their earplugs.
Shadowy mist begins to wash over the town. There is some movement in the forest, and then Night Choir arrives on stage.
Runes light up next to the stage, “Horizon” apparently a song name.
Song Notes:
“He” wants better for you all but you must earn your strength. Hone your bodies, magic, sorcery, temper yourselves, harden your heart. Be a rose that will not wither or die, pierces the heavens. survive all the winters, survive the fire, the stars, the seas, the fall. “He” will notice. He will praise. He will acknowledge and grant more strength. Something about a vile king? The “horizon” seems to portend a coming of evil. The elite won’t prepare us for the coming fall, they are weak, and create weakness among us. We need to be strong to survive this coming catastrophe.
Those who did not plug their ears: Every time you take a recovery + 5 temp hp, plus edge on power rolls until you go against the Night Choir or take a respite.
Those who listened think this is the best music we’ve ever heard. We feel seen, and noticed. We strongly feel we need to get stronger because some serious shit is coming.
Val Ethron sneaks behind the stage to prepare to follow as the choir exits. He sees six huntsmen in the forest
There’s a brief confrontation between King and Hurkemier, which R’owh diffuses. The crowd all leaves.
Gravitaxx identifies bardic magic. He can see the choir on stage though they are invisible after the show to everyone else.
The party teleports on stage to speak with the Night Choir and Gravitaxx enables everyone to see the invisible choir.
The Night Choir shares a vision with Gravitaxx that shows a devastating alien invasion of this planet. We determine the Night Choir and their leader, the Vile King’s genuine purpose is to save this planet, though we’re at odds with them about how to do that. We ask to meet the Vile King in the hopes of getting more information about this threat. We still hope to have at least Ashleigh’s sister’s enchantment dispelled, but the party is more interested in understanding the larger threat, and possibly persuading the Vile King to aid us in whatever plan we decide on (if he actually has the means the Night Choir believes he does).
When the Night Choir leaves, Val Ethron tracks them and the huntsmen body guarding them into the Silverwood, but has to turn back before they reach their destination.
We meet back up after the Night Choir has left and bunk down for the night.
Note Taking Order:
Hurkemier the Dwarf Conduit, Sandor the Polder Tactician, Thunaxx the Devil Elementalist, Val’Ethron the Human Shadow, Gravitaxx the Devil Elementalist, and R’owh (not a Werecat) Fury.
Session 20
Level 2 - Wealth 2 - Renown 3 - Victories 7 - EXP 20
08-02-26
During rest we’re pulled into the Shepard’s room.
(Dream sequence at the end)
The group discus what we should do. Help the town? Protect the tax collectors? Inform the king? Build a spaceship and mine tungsten? Fight the Night Choirs?
All go to warn the tax guys that danger is afront as Val stay behind to set up a tournament of some sort. We take the siblings who are not under the influence with us. We get to the tax group with plenty of time to get back to the meeting with the Night Choirs, we have not yet talked to them. Val is in town still
You see a large, quiet library lit by several hanging lanterns. Tall shelves of dark wood line the walls, heavy with ancient tomes and scrolls. From the corner of your eye you can spot a wide mirror giving view of your vessel. He sits at a wide oak table. As a man in his mid-forties. He has short, iron-grey hair, neatly trimmed, and a calm, scholarly face with a short beard. His eyes are sharp and thoughtful. He wears the simple forest-green robe of a senior Delian archivist, the Order’s symbol stitched in gold thread upon the left breast.
There are two books open in front of him. One much newer leather and binding, and mostly free of ink on its many pages. The other, ancient yellowed pages. On newer book in front of him, the name Archivist Lorian Vale is clearly written in fresh ink at the top of the page. On the other, the text is in a language you don’t understand.
He turns several pages back, then glances directly at the mirror, lightning and thunder in the window next to it having caught his attention. For a moment you see his own reflection staring back at him — calm, focused, the lantern light catching the silver in his hair.
“Entry seven,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to the book. “The Plague of Shattered Minds. Came to pass in the year 89 of the Maverick. Contained at great cost.” He draws a clean vertical slash. “Fulfilled.”
“Entry fifteen — The Rise of the Flame Tyrant. Burned half the eastern marches in 112. Slain at the Battle of Ashford.” Another slash. “Fulfilled. Reference volume 2 for more details.”
“Entry twenty-three — The Swarm from the Depths. Devoured the southern harvests in 147. Poisoned by our alchemists.” A third slash. “Fulfilled. Reference volume 2.” He turns a few more pages and continues reading quietly:
“Entry nine — The Weeping Crown. A ruler driven mad by unseen voices, leading the realm into ruin. Fulfilled in 134 when King Merrick the Broken was quietly removed by the Order.” He marks it with a slash. “Fulfilled. Reference Volume 2.”
“Entry thirty-one — The Silent Choir. A great silence that falls upon the land, stealing voices and will from the people. No confirmed occurrence.” He leaves it unmarked. “Pending.”
“Entry forty-two — The Hollow Host. Armies that march without banners, wearing the faces of the dead. Never manifested.” A slash. “Thwarted in 343. Reference volume 5” His hand pauses on a different page. He reads slowly:
“Entry four… The Taint of Whispered Shadows. A subtle corruption that seeps through the land… twisting loyalties… breeding discord from within… whispers that turn brother against brother… strength twisted into strife…” He skims further, then mutters, “A few troubling reports from the borderlands… villages turning upon themselves for no clear reason… but nothing conclusive. No clear pattern yet.” He leaves the entry unmarked. “Unconfirmed. Pending.”
Archivist Lorian Vale closes the older volume with care, then returns to his own copy and continues annotating. He speaks once more, almost to the empty library: “If any of these ever fully come to pass… may the Shepherd guide those who come after us.” The vision fades. You return to your bodies. Mere moments have passed. The white orb — the Shepherd — pulses slower and fainter than before. It appears taxed once more.
Note Taking Order:
Hurkemier the Dwarf Conduit, Sandor the Polder Tactician, Thunaxx the Devil Elementalist, Val’Ethron the Human Shadow, Gravitaxx the Devil Elementalist, and R’owh (not a Werecat) Fury.
Session 21
8/9/26
Level 2 - Wealth 2 - Renown 3 - Victories 9 - EXP 20
Our beloved cast of characters (in not taking order)
Hurkemier the Dwarf Conduit, Sandor the Polder Tactician, Thunaxx the Devil Elementalist, Val’Ethron the Human Shadow, Gravitaxx the Devil Elementalist, and R’owh (not a Werecat) Fury.
The party set out to intercept the approaching tax caravan before it reached town, hoping to prevent the growing tensions there from turning into an outright battle.
When the caravan arrived, we warned them that the town was on the verge of revolt. Their response was that the townsfolk had “always been revolting,” which did little to suggest diplomacy was high on their priority list.
The expedition was being led by Percival Harrowgate, a haughty high elf tax official confined to a wheelchair. Percival works for Auditor Cassian Vell and appears primarily motivated by greed and personal freedom. The caravan’s military strength seemed roughly equal to what the town could muster, meaning a confrontation could easily become bloody for both sides.
Gravitaxx attempted to redirect Percival’s attention toward the Nightchoir, while R’owh pointed out the political problem Percival faced: if he attacked the town and slaughtered its inhabitants, he would look terrible, while losing his soldiers to a rebellion would make him look equally incompetent. Percival was not particularly impressed.
Grav then changed tactics, talking up the party’s accomplishments and stressing that we wished no harm on either side. We asked Percival simply to delay his visit, but his response was predictably mercenary: time is money.
Sandor finally suggested a practical alternative. Percival could continue along his route, collect taxes from the next town, and then return here afterward. Percival initially vacillated, but the prospect of receiving a favorable commendation helped sway him. After a little more negotiation, Percival agreed to visit the other town first.
The caravan captain was quite pleased with this outcome.
We also handed the two children over to the caravan. In one of the stranger accounting decisions of the campaign, the caravan accepted them as payment toward the taxes.
Meanwhile, back in town, Val had been busy organizing the inaugural Tournament of Chumpions.
Val and King devised an increasingly absurd competition involving circus monkeys, mimes, and a team of midgets. The center of town was cleared, ropes were erected, and the stage was set for what promises to involve significant amounts of carnage and cookies.
The rest of the party returned just in time to hear Val explain the fiasco that was about to unfold.
Before the tournament could begin, however, we arranged a meeting with the Nightchoir. We waited for them on the tournament stage, where they made their intentions considerably clearer: they want us to slaughter Percival and the tax caravan.
When we resisted being pushed into their plans, the Nightchoir became threatening and left us with the unsettling message that they are watching us.
The following morning, we had breakfast.
And next time…
The Tournament of Chumpions Begins
Circus monkeys.
Mimes.
Midgets.
Carnage.
Cookies.
What could possibly go wrong?
Session 22
8/9/26 8/23/2026
GM NOTE: KING WILL HENCEFORTH BE KNOWN AS “Prince King Duke the First”
Level 2 - Wealth 2 - Renown 3 - Victories 10 - EXP 20
Our beloved cast of characters (in note-taking order)
- Hurkemier the Dwarf Conduit
- Sandor the Polder Tactician
- Thunaxx the Devil Elementalist
- Val’Ethron the Human Shadow
- Gravitaxx the Devil Elementalist
- R’owh (not a Werecat) Fury
Nerion and Prince King Duke the First convene to meticulously review the details of the forthcoming event. The terms and conditions are deliberated upon and ultimately codified. A straightforward bracket-style tournament is established as a preliminary gauntlet, intended to separate the formidable from the feeble and, in doing so, determine the principal contenders who will populate the docket for the main event.
We spend the intervening period before the tournament pursuing various downtime projects. Following an extensive group deliberation, the Twins, Val, and Rowh elect to participate and enter the arena. Meanwhile, Hurk and Sandor establish a modest yet decidedly illicit betting operation amid the assembled spectators.
As everyone enters the arena, Val delivers a rousing and impassioned oration to the assembled crowd.
Then, the shenanigans are unleashed.
Animals and assorted miscellany are released into the arena, transforming the proceedings into an immediate maelstrom of pandemonium. What was ostensibly intended to be an orderly tournament rapidly devolves into an unrestrained, free-for-all grand melee, wherein combatants, creatures, and chaos collide with spectacular abandon.
As combat commences, we notice the Night Choir observing us with palpable expectation, their attention fixed upon our every movement. Val maneuvers into a strategically advantageous position, while Rowh immediately charges headlong toward Prince King Duke the First. Gravy (Grav-E) conjures an oppressive vortex of the Void around us, evidently hoping to intimidate and dissuade potential adversaries from approaching. Shadow attempts to clandestinely sabotage several combatants, but his machinations prove ineffectual.
Rowh subsequently seizes a flaming hellhound and, with spectacular disregard for both physics and self-preservation, hurls the infernal beast directly at Prince King Duke the First. The prince deftly evades the projectile; unfortunately, the hellhound instead obliterates Prince King Duke the First’s intended target. The prince slowly pivots toward Rowh and fixes her with an unmistakably furious glare.
Nerion employs a particularly egregious example of legal cheese to compel Gannon into an involuntary facepalm. Gannon nearly precipitates another infamous Forcecage incident, but, through an unprecedented display of restraint, ultimately decides against detonating the party.
With a sufficient number of combatants eliminated, the tournament transitions into a rapid-fire elimination round. Eager to expedite his departure from the increasingly chaotic cage fight, Thunaxx signals Gravy to unleash the One-Winged Angel ability upon him. As Thunaxx is felled, his body vanishes within an incandescent conflagration, only to reappear beside Hurk, who promptly furnishes him with a drink and a sandwich.
Gravy is the next combatant to withdraw, leaving only Prince King Duke the First, Rowh, and Val standing.
Val seizes the initiative and executes an elaborate JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure-style maneuver, culminating in a spectacular attack that fells both Val and Prince King Duke the First. The arena is left momentarily awash in confusion, devastation, and the unmistakable consequences of allowing adventurers to participate in organized sporting events.
The crowd erupts into a deafening cacophony, roaring back to life with virtually unrestrained fervor. The spectacle has clearly reinvigorated the assembled masses.
Afterward, the group proceeds to the stage to confer with the Night Choir. They are visibly perturbed by our conduct, contending that while we may have adhered to the letter of the agreement, we had conspicuously disregarded its intended spirit. They press the matter with increasing insistence, and tensions escalate precipitously.
Meanwhile, Thunaxx has been clandestinely accumulating an ominous cloud of smoke upon the stage from his pipe, evidently anticipating that diplomacy may soon become untenable.
The Night Choir speaks one word too foul for our ears.
That is the final provocation.
Explosive combat ensues.
Having previously demonstrated remarkable restraint by refraining from another Forcecage-level incident, Gannon’s tenuous composure finally disintegrates. His reason abandons him entirely, and his accumulated fury is unleashed upon the assembled parties—innocent bystanders be damned.
The Night Choir charges.
It rapidly becomes apparent that this encounter was calibrated for a party several levels beyond our own. The odds appear decidedly unfavorable, and the heroes’ prospects deteriorate with alarming rapidity.
Cue approximately two hours of rules-lawyering, ability-lawyering, technical interpretation, and increasingly pedantic examination of the minutiae governing our respective abilities.
Somehow, against all reasonable expectations, the session concludes with the party at full HP, battered neither physically nor spiritually enough to deter us from continuing.
We end the session poised for whatever fresh assortment of shenanigans awaits us next week.
