The following morning the party again set off again to meet with Suel of Erranard in Olana. While the weather had turned nasty and Winter had followed the Brotherhood onto the plains the grassy wilds belied their reputation and were strangely quite, as afternoon greyed to night the Brotherhood found themselves at Loreonn. A scant half days travel from Olana.
As they entered the picturesque town they began to feel ill at ease, the town had a sallow and grim feeling. The street urchins hardly bothered to mark their passing, shopkeepers worried not about hawking to them, scant recognition was given to their majesty. The Brotherhood quickly restocked their equipment at a nearby armourer before retiring to an inn called the The Miners Pick. The only patron a greying peddler called Crumen was sport for some tales: Boldar impressed upon him his recent heroics, while the Crumen shared tales from the North.
After the tales the Brotherhood retired to their rooms but the peace was broken not long after by chaotic screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth from the street. Before anyone could look out the window Boldar had launched himself downstairs quivering with excitement.
The street below was a bizarre scene; a corpulent, corrupted, sloughing and slumping figure was shuffling a slow spiral, scarring a bloody trail behind him; a tangle haired, wild eyed fanatic who was mumbling a garbled incoherent babble of abyssal, draconic and common was flitting about tracing runic marks in the snowy cobbles; and cowering against the building sorrowful shapes of people wailing in madness, scratching and tearing at their face and flesh.
* The fanatic kept babbling about the Old One and his time again;
* The Brotherhood had seen the corpulent figure heading to the Silk Hill in his carriage;
* Across the city sounds of maniacal bedlam also rang out;
* As the battle began the corpulent figure finished the spiral of blood which then pulsed in harmony with the runic tracings, lines of power flashed snaking out through Loreonn;
* The corpulent creature and fanatic appeared to be invigorated by the energy;
The Brotherhood dashed into battle to be met by the wailing thrashing mad people and wraiths formed of the screams of madness. The Brotherhood managed grind their way through the throng to attack the corpulent figure; Adjurah struck a mighty blow whose only effect was to jar the Brotherhood’s vision but failed to injure the corpulent figure. In return the creature grabbed Adjurah with unconscious ease and began to maul him. Despite being unable to injure the horrifying corpulent figure or the fanatic and being mauled and burned by the waves of madness the Brotherhood seemed unwilling to flee…………..
Assuming the bloody spiral was protecting them the Brotherhood began to try and destroy the spiral and runes. As the Brotherhood attacked the runes the corpulent figure and the fanatic exacted a bloody toll. Despite being unable to defend themselves or hurt their enemy the Brotherhood seemed unwilling to flee……………
Only when the battle was truly intractable, the task obviously and totally beyond them, the enemy was incontrovertibly invincible, the chances of survival almost non existent, the possibility of escape almost completely lost did the Brotherhood countenance fleeing. Some time after this point did they actually attempt to flee………
* Every time the Brotherhood hit either the corrupted or fanatic their vision rocked with quadruple vision: a stone grotto walls covered in dark runes and; a stone yard filled with tall square columns of stone covered in runes; a darkened library torn to pieces with runes cut into book spines and roof alike; and, where they stood.