Old Wounds

Incursions from outside the material plane leave scars between planes of existence. Normally they stay sealed, but with the Blood War spilling out across the material plane, these scars have become worn out and thin, threatening to rupture. Where they lead and what's behind them is unknown. While many things beyond are trying to break in, remember that the door swings in both directions.

You all are employed as "Stitchers," tasked with maintaining and sealing these scars, should they burst, you must deal with what comes out.

Timeline wise, this campaign is running pretty much concurrent with Godless (Sumna 3218 - Present)

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Character Page

Calendar if needed

## Session Title - Session Number -- Date in Universe (If applicable) (Session Date)

=== Session 1 (07/09/23) ===

**Session notes:**
Our unit 44, "Boyz 2 Tieflings" is called to the armory.

Sealed jars of dangerous magicks are doled out. We roll to see if we can identify the type. Liráel healing, Gor'Kill creature's movement, Muriel temporal, Harold creature's movement. The rest rolled too low.

We are to report to the Chief. Gnome-tabaxi, Terry Crews level buff. We're being dispatched to deal with a rift incursion reported two days ago.

Standard equipment, glass pane to view them, each containing a single needle, two needed to stitch them closed (or open one).
We have three days to fix this, dismissed.

We visit Ib Reembach (sp?) at the transportation center.

Step through a tree door to bring us some ten miles away from our target. Dex save! Turns out we are 80 feet up in a massive tree canopy. Some falter, but we pull it together. Small plume of smoke to the south, like a cooking fire. We climb down, some better than others.

We find that a recently hewn road goes in the direction we want. Made with metal tools, for walking. We mosey.

Our glass panes vibrate. The needles write on the glass on their own, "ethereal" This is a new feature, our old ones didn't do this.

We come upon a thin carnival booth, hastily crafted, staffed by a gnome. Three miles from Tony Chestnut's World of Wonderment. "Tell 'em Harvey Acorn sent ya!"

Continue, start to smell barbecue. Hear carnival calliope music, but played on recorder. Hastily constructed fencing, another gnome reading a book. Three copper apiece. Gor'kill threatens him. "If you've got business with Mr. Tony, he's inside." Harriet pays three copper mice and we're let in.

Pass the food vendors. There is a line to enter the main tent. Lots of people by themselves or with young children, several wearing what appears to be funeral garb. People weeping or trying not to. 30-ish feet long, the line is not moving. The 9-foot orc at the end of the line has been waiting three days. We learn that Tony Chestnut has promised that any visitors can speak with their departed loved ones.

Walk around the back of the main tent. Gor'kill rolls Stealth. We find a gap in the tent. Right underneath the grandstand, this is a service entrance. Guy passed out drunk. We sneak in.

Do we continue along under the bleachers or head left toward a tunnel to the center ring? Hear murmurs. We head left.

Tunnel to the center ring where there is a smaller tent. Individuals exit and enter, told to say their loved one's name. The mini tent is glowing bright red while viewed through the glass. This rift is WIDE open. We hear what sounds like a digeridoo. She walks out sobbing happily, having made contact with her dear Bloodfist.

Tony Chestnut may be undead, or at least has necromantic energy about him.

We bluff our way in, the new necromancers he hired, yes that's it. He follows, inquiring about our being necromancers. His voice deepens and he collapses, fucking dead. The rift is open, ten feet across, standing in front is a very tall, older looking human ghost.

We battle Slag (Matt's character from Pride of Avalon) and two wraiths. At first, we are failing to deal any damage, even with an early critical, but before long his selective immunity seems to no longer be an issue. (It is revealed afterward that he could only be damaged by someone who had either assisted an ally or been assisted by one, a specific protection that would have rendered Slag practically immune to true necromancers, his most reviled foe.) During the skirmish, we stitch closed the rift.

DINNER!

Roll up the gnome's body, looking like it was at least a week decayed, in a bedroll. Bluff our way past the mom and children. Koashe announces they will be taking a twenty minute break, appreciate you still waiting. Commotion as we exit, as the lady who'd just had her turn is trying to get back in again. NOT OUR CIRCUS, NOT OUR PROBLEM. We hasten our exit.

Wait, did Harold get the arm the fell off the corpse? No, but the squig did. Was it noticed carrying an arm? "What's that thing got in its mouth?!" Meanwhile, Greta Pilchback (the orc in line) storms in from the front door. We convince her to wait her turn, and Harriet and Gor'kill convince the crowd it's NOT an arm but a prop.

Grand theft carriage, Koashe holds the gate open (the gate guard gnome was also a week-dead corpse), Liráel assists him leaping onto the speeding cart. Screams from back in the fairgrounds. We worry that there may be injuries or worse in the ensuing panic, but there's little we can do about that now.

The Chief awaits our arrival near the tree. We report on the three dead gnomes, the three ghosts who were apparently possessing the corpses until we destroyed them, and we harmed no one else. Tear is sealed. Do we need to rest/restock? Yes, please. "Ib, home." Drinks are on Ib.

We wake at 4am to a blaring alarm. (Long rest achieved) "Unit 44, return to the Chief's office immediately." SAY IT "\*sigh\* Boyz 2 Tiefling." It's the one rift they can identify from afar, Infernal.