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The Heroes’ form a plan and, that evening at dusk, the set the town ablaze. The townspeople, fleeing their burning homes, fly into a feral rage upon seeing the Heroes’ in the street, but that’s all according to plan. Deimos’ sword and Kithka’s mace make quick work of most. The rest are dragged down by Tirol’s caltrops and snares, and Tumaini’s wretched little golems. In less than an hour, Baerlon lay dead. Their scarred and tattooed bodies leeching tainted black blood into the streets of the town.
In the root cellar behind the woodcutter’s hovel, they find a starving elven hunter named Azrael. Part of the other team that stormed the spire with Ser Valdr, they recognize him by the portrait provided by the Madrigals, if not their memories. As the town burns, they walk east, continuing on to Carythor.
Making camp in a pasture between the road and the Duchess river several miles from Baerlon, Azrael finally speaks.
In the root cellar behind the woodcutter’s hovel, they find a starving elven hunter named Azrael. Part of the other team that stormed the spire with Ser Valdr, they recognize him by the portrait provided by the Madrigals, if not their memories. As the town burns, they walk east, continuing on to Carythor.
Making camp in a pasture between the road and the Duchess river several miles from Baerlon, Azrael finally speaks.
