Boosh Presents the Carrion Crown

Late Nights...
Mending Fences via Paperwork.

27th Day of Calistril 4711 AR

There were many perks to being an abomination of nature. One such perk was no need for candles or other such light sources. This thought bemused Sevltana as she sat in the pitch black of the study. The light filtering in from outside made the room appear like mid-day to her, despite it being the small hours of the night.

Still the tedium of the task before her was an ever present danger, all be it a familiar one. She was nearly done compiling all the information she had managed to pull from the archives and library in town. Not there was a great deal new to learn from it all, it was still best to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

Plus there was still the mater of the others. At this thought she laid her quill down and rubbed her eyes, more from irritation then fatigue. Trust and tolerance where coming up in short supply among this group; that has assembled to mourn the passing of a friend not 3 days ago. She was no better for it if she were being honest.

Sevltana absent mindedly flipped through the professors’ journal as she weighed her choices. Clearly she was going to be stuck with these people for longer than she had originally planned. There wasn’t any way to leverage her station, not yet anyway. That left the rather distasteful choice of being honest with the strangers.

“What to do…” She muttered to herself as she leaned back on the chair. Rolling her head back she could see the worry wort of a younger sister slumped up against the wall by the door. She had insisted on staying close by since things had gotten even tenser.

Staring up at the celling her mind floated from one idea to the next, until a thread of connection started to weave a plan together. She would indeed be open to the group about her abilities and why they cultivated in the first place. After all necromancy its self is not different than any other art, only its user can decide if the power will be used for good or evil. That said careful phrasing and planning was still needed after all, it was not a socially accepted art.

Sevltana stifled a yawn; there was still plenty that needed to be done. She need to prepare copies of the brief for everyone, as well as decide how best to inform them. Plus a backup plan wouldn’t go amiss here.

Harrowstone Prisoners

Whispering Way


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Back to the Wall
Ever feel like you are being watched?

3rd Day of Calistril 4711 AR

The cold Calistril wind whipped off the Tusk Mountains cutting right to the bone. Despite the ceaseless frigid wind Sveltana sat resolute on the back of Anastasya, surveying the sight below her. Studying the area well, she jotted notes down in the journal she all ways carried. Below her sprawling from the foot hills of the Tusk Mountains and out of sight over the horizon, was the Bleakwall.

It was deafeningly quite with only the whistle of the wind forcing her ears to strain. A distant howl reminded Sveltana that she wasn’t as alone as it seemed. “Can we go now?” Somun’s voices pierced the quiet and had an uneasy edge in it. The younger girl sat shivering bundled head to toe, obviously more destressed by the cold then her older sibling.

A faint smile formed on Sveltana’s lips as she turned Anastasya around to head back, “Sure. I think I have everything we need for now.” Her voice belied her amusement. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they made their way back down off the mountains. The sun had just started to dip below the horizon as the duo arrived back in the small town they were staying in during this venture.

The small village had seen much better days, and was now largely abandoned. Thanks to being so close to the hold life here was even more unpleasant than most, still a few die hards where still in the area farming. The two women stood out as they reached what one might call an inn, if they were being very generous and squinted.

The reality of it was this village had gone from several hundred people to a few dozen at most. Not surprising really, looking around proved this was not a safe place any more. The remains of burnt out homes and shops long ago abandoned proved as much. Harsh winters and raids by orcs are a deadly combination that had seen to the end of many small villages near the border.

The sisters had found logging in what had once been a much nicer inn, now it was owned by an elderly lady likely near her grave. Between her failing health and shear lack of business the place was falling apart; but it was the only place with spare beds.

Sveltana slung her bag on to one of the old long tables in what had once served as the main common room. Grabbing a nearby chair that looked still able to do its job she sat down and started emptying the bag and setting up to get to work.

Somun stuck her head out from the kitchen with a gleeful grin plastered on her face, “Svee! What do you want to drink?” The sight that greeted her was depressing and all too common. Her sister had managed to completely take over a long table, surrounded by maps, parchment, and books. Somun sighed to herself, as Sveltana didn’t even seem to register she had been spoken to.

Somun strode over her long legs closing the distance in no time; she deftly slammed one of the open tomes closed. This got a glance from the elder sister, “I was using that…” was all Sveltana uttered before reaching over to reopen the book. Somun just glared down at the pale green eyes that held no warmth, hand unmoving. “Then answer the question.” Somun replied flatly, this was far from the first time this conversation had been held in the last 60+ years.


Journal Entry

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Sketch of ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Castle Andachi

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