This site is an online accumulation of the Post Reports for my current ongoing D&D Campaign - for anyone who might be interested in reading them.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Meet 64, Adv 4, 10/11/14

The group had the 2nd half a major fight this week, this time WITH the bandits they had been fighting with AGAINST the sudden undead horde that had assaulted them. The fight demanded that both sides fought together since the undead were indiscriminate in who and what they were killing. Both parties had their strong points in the fight and when it was over, a truce continued where the group came up with a way to integrate the bandits back into society.

From there the group then went into an investigative bent to track down what and where the undead beacon came from and why it fired off now. While they were learning about the decimation (not the right word, since it was much more than 1 in 10) of the Raugeri family, there was just shock at how so much horror (some of it fire borne!) could befall a family in such a short period of time.

Write up follows:

The bandit leader, Castus, called up a flaming sphere and rolled it into the pit and through one of the opening along the wall – bottlenecking the undead in there. Four of them made it out through the flames and pressed forward. Another of the druid’s up top called to the camp dogs and three of them burst from the house and slid down the steep slope to the bottom, lining up with Marcus as well as the bandit fighter (named Torquil), growling and bristling. Two other camp dogs ran to the south side of the pit where a bandit there shouldered his bow and pulled out a 50’ length of rope. He quickly made a yoke out of it and draped it over the head of the 2 dogs standing by. Then a bandit sorcerer touched the rope and it thickened and grew tougher.

Flimflam called out to his hippogriff who flew from the house and slammed down in the pit, in front of the opening where it immediately began savaging the undead there. A number of finches and a hawk dived from the top of the house and assaulted the “slept” druid and sorcerer in the pit, waking them up slowly. Zeta was popping as many goodberries as he could, pulling himself to the pit where he and another archer dropped a second rope down to help ferry people out.

The skeletons and skeletal animals ripped out amongst the party trapped in the pit, boney claws and fingers tore and scrabbled and twisted, trying to bring the living members of both groups. Quintus and one of the bandit sorcerers tried to disrupt the undead but the flashing ensorcelled rays went wild, nothing really hitting. And from above, every person able to plied bow and blunt arrows, trying to knock the undead back.

Flimflam cast jump on Whosea and called Sanford back to him, the fox clambering into his lap. Then the oversized dog LEAPT all the way out of the pit in a single bound, clambering his way to the top in a spray of earth and falling dirt.

The battle was on as the party did their best to hold the ground. One of the druids tried an animal summoning but ended up with a 5’ viper – no use in this sort of fight. Torquil motioned for Marcus to “get out of here”, the elven fighter/wizard thanking the doughty warrior and then ran for the ropes, along with the druid in the pit. They climbed and pulled and twisted, the dogs up top and Zeta and the archer helping out.

Castus roared for everyone below to “watch out!” and then called upon Gaia, dropping a localized sleet storm on the entire right hand side of the pit, the buffeting wind, snow, and ice causing the undead there to stumble and fall. With the sleet storm brewing, Castus lost control of his flaming sphere but not before it consumed another two skeletons. However, a skeletal bear was now in the fight – and from the other tunnel, 4 skeletal archers and a more zombies were coming out.

One of the dogs took an almost mortal wound and went down with a howl. More of the figures below were now out on the ropes and Torquil tied the rope to the unconscious dog where it was lifted to safety. The undead continued their assault and arrows fell like rain from above. The bandit fighter was shot by undead archers and was losing blood quickly. Zombies were rising and falling in the icy sleet and Torquil aided a second dog to the ropes, tying it on him so he could be lifted free.

The sleet ended and the last dog held off the undead long enough for another to come down. With sure and quick moves Torquil hastily tied it around the last canine and holding on himself and using his free hand to block undead attacks with his shield, the two of them were lifted to safety. Once up top the party did not stop in their barrage of arrows. But something strange happened.  The undead became calm and slowly shuffled back into the tunnels, no longer paying any mind to us.

We went into the Estate home where everyone pooled their healing, getting the bandits and the party back to full. We talked with Castus who admitted that they do not need to do the banditry anymore. Heatherfield was well off and there was much prosperity around. Most of the original bandits had stopped with the new found wealth the city was experiencing and had gone back to the city with real jobs. These last nine all had prices on their heads and Castus wasn’t going to risk any of them.

The party then explained who we were and what we were doing. They had heard about our efforts with the other bandit group we had helped to remove and filled us in a bit on the Grey Havens and Marilee Jerinston (the leader of it). She’s a bit crazy and her 2nd in command is cold and worse. Castus and the others want to settle down and it took minimal dealing to have them disband. It is contingent on them getting a letter of amnesty and Lord Geyzer of Heatherfield is ill-intented to supplying it. However, the party is going to implore to Baron Ceril Taugis of Shakun to write such a letter and pardon, which should solve the problem.

At this point the bandit’s sorcerers took us to the root cellar where we saw a now revealed glyph to Hades on the wall. It was not there yesterday. No one had been down here. There was thought it might be a beacon – something put in place years ago but triggered now. We then (a few of us) went to look at the pit. The two tunnels were older – natural limestone with some working to smooth them out. It appeared they met up with each other a bit further on. And there were more of those small symbols to Hades on the wall – at around the 2’ or so height. Goblins? We aren’t sure. Maybe it’s something about the Estate? Emblazoned on the front door was the name “Raugeri”. We were going to check it out at town tomorrow since beacons for undead is not something either us or Castus and Company thought was a good idea to have just sitting around.

We took all our belongings and the bandits took theirs and we all went to another Estate home where we settled in and shared what food we all had with one another. Castus and company were going to go to Dairymeade and spend the next few days there until we could get a letter from Baron Taugis. From there they would be pardoned and would go on to Shakun. So at 8:30 AM on Watermonth the 19th we bid them a fond farewell and headed ourselves back to Heatherfield.

We sent a missive via aviary to Baron Taugis and then ate breakfast. From here we went to the Hall of Records where a magistrate was willing to help us out for a price. Gold. And keep it coming.

The Raugeri family was maybe 25 years ago a very well to do local merchant family, dealing in livestock. They owned 4 Homesteads at their height and were one of the only families in town to have the patronage of the Silverhair family of Woodhelven, an influential trading elven clan. However, through our research, the next 11 years or so had a number of terrible strange events misfall the family line.

·         Last height of their influence was maybe 25 years ago (year 156) – big fire @ main family home killed patriarch Krithius, 4 of his family members (brother, brother’s wife, eldest daughter, granddaughter), and 2 visiting dignitaries from Woodhelven.

·         Darius (eldest son – 9 months later (157)) died in a hunting camp, got drunk and fell into a fire – burned to death.

·         Maria (wife – 1 year later (158)) died in her kitchen with her daughter and 3 cooks when a chimney had a blowback and suffocated them all.

·         Thalius (youngest brother – 8 months later (159)) died from lung sickness from too much pipe smoke.

·         Tremont (next eldest son – 1 year, 6 months later (160)) died when the glassworks exploded, taking him and his son out, and the 4 members of the glassworkers working there.

·         Ulara (Darius’ wife – 4 months later (161)) died in her sleep, no cause listed (She was 42).

·         Orina (Thalius’ only daughter – 1 year 9 months later (163)) disappeared during a ride with her handmaiden and a suitor named Boris – no sign, never returned. Horses returned to family stable on their own 4 days later.

·         Castius (youngest child – 1 year, 2 months later (164)) and wife Flaria, and their only child all died along with their home staff of 7 during a bad break out of “Feverchill” pox. It is noted that only the town’s former physician and the town’s former Sheriff were the only ones to die during this outbreak (although over 50 were reported sick – no one else passed away).

·         Shortly after Lea (Darius’s elder daughter – 2 year, 6 months later (166)) married a minor merchant’s son named Karent, their home was burglarized, the two slain, along with their household staff of 2. Family dogs were taken and never seen again. No real goods seemed to be missing.

·         The last one was after Senia (Darius’ younger daughter, 1 year, 4 months later (168)) had wed a guardsman named Torg Bracken – she had complications during delivery and died. Torg was bereft with grief and killed himself that night by hanging and drinking hemlock. Their child was named Selene. It was thought that the child died during the birthing.

At that point the Raugeri family line has come to an end and the Estates and Homesteads reverted back to the local lord. There were 13 girls admitted to the Heatherfield Orphanage during that year and we were going to check them out soon to find out if Selene survived. The Raugeri family was noted for black hair and blue eyes – traits that we would hope to find.

The Magistrate did uncover one item of interest. The Silverhair clan of Woodhelven sends a annual stipend of support to the Thanach family here in Heatherfield – a peculiar and not normal situation. According to the tax scrolls, this has been going on for 11 or 12 years so far. The Thanach family is a known for dog breeding and their family head is listed as Crastori and his wife, Oona. They have 4 children but none of them are the right age to be mistaken for Selene (from low 30’s to mid 20’s). We were going to see them tomorrow.

We went to the Orphanage next and investigated there – getting much information on the girls from that time, but none of them were panning out to be the missing (if even alive) Selene. The group split up a bit with visits to various shops and even the Half and Helf Brothel took place (hooray for Zeta!). Flimflam prepared a number of Goodberries (we had gone through many of them today thanks to the fight with the bandits and the undead) and the party was getting themselves ready for bed.

We awoke the next morning early, readied ourselves after breakfast, and on Watermonth the 20th @ 8 AM prepared to head off to the Thanach family and learn what we could there from Crastori and Oona.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Meet 63, Adv 4, 10/4/14

Good Plans.

At this meeting the group spent a decent amount of time coming up with a plan to attract the attention of the bandits and give an option for them to track the bandits at a later time.

I'm almost sorry they didn't go with an earlier iteration and rub peppermint all over a fat sheep.

Write up follows:

The majority of the party went to the Mane and Tail Inn to get a bite to eat and discuss what our options were next. Flimflam detoured to the Temple of Demeter to check up on Whosea, learning that his dog would be better and able to travel tomorrow.

The group then discussed what our options were on finding the bandits. The feeling is that the bandits are most likely staying in one of the many abandoned Estate homes littering the countryside. However, the sheer number (scores, maybe hundreds?) and the distance between makes easy searching time consuming and almost an impossibility.

We then spent an hour or two tossing ideas out, deciding to tempt the bandits to assault a lone traveler. What about Flimflam’s raven? We did not think it would be a good idea and discounted that idea as well. We went over the three interviewee’s conversation, deciding that we could not iron exactly where the assault would take place (outside of north of Heatherfield). Finally, what if the Estate’s moved? What if they were in one Estate one week and moved to another one another week?

Then we discussed the number of limestone caves in the area? We are assuming Estate homes – but what if their base is in a cave? We needed some more discussion and background.

We talked about getting in touch with local hunters to see if they report anything. We also talked about luring the bandits out – but would need one of us to be the target. One of the things we also wanted to avoid was tipping off to the bandits that we were out here looking for bandits. So that meant quizzing the locals was going to be problematic at best. So we needed information, but not to let the locals know we were looking for bandits.

The downfall of that was the 3 people were invited to the lord’s house and were interviewed by us about their bandit encounter. So we suspected that we were already known as being out here.

We went back to the idea of getting robbed. A sheep would be a good choice. We could buy a sheep and somehow scent it (piss? Paprika? Roseoil?) and then allow Sanford and Whosea to track it back to their lair. Good idea, but no one herds “one” sheep – it would raise a flag to the bandits. Ok, good idea, but more thought was needed?

After much talk and discussion and plans formed and changed and discarded and altered we settled on a two-fold plan. We figured that Tranis would be “hunting” for quail, and allow himself to be robbed – using a brass braided necklace as a planted item – lacing it with oil so it reeks. The other would be Quintus would be on his way to Dairymeade with an engagement ring and let himself get robbed – the ring and box it would be in would also be laced in oil so it reeks.

We then put our prep work in order. A rosewood box was purchased, lined with linen, and a silver ring (we had in our treasure pile) was readied, with Quintus going around to various vendors and eventually a different inn and talked long and loud about going to Timberton to get a girl named Lirea and propose, bringing her back here eventually.

Zeta wandered around the poor section of town, settling at the Fleaside Tavern where he made contact with the local thieves’ guild, a lieutenant named Galarus. He suspected the orphanage might be in line with the thieves’ guild. On his completion, he wandered around town until his tail was lost and then made his back to the Inn.

Tranis went out and did some hunting, getting a quail and then selling it to the local tavern for a few coins.

We rested, waking the next day (watermonth the 18th) and set our plan in motion. Tranis went out for hunting again, and Quintus made his way north to Dairymeade hoping he might get picked up and assaulted.

And we hit pay dirt. Both of our guys were assaulted by bandits. Lone guys, no real armor, minimal weaponry. They were each robbed of the items laced with the smelly oils, and then briefly blinded while the bandits escaped. They waited for their vision to return, went back to town, met up with the rest of us and shared where they think they were assaulted at first. Noted were compared and we noted humans and half-elves, archers, and large assed dogs. Total was maybe 8 or so?

We armed and armored up and then went off, coming to Quintus’ site first. Whosea caught the scent and we followed it across the landscape to the west of the road, going to an abandoned homestead. There was a single wall, 300’ long, 100’ from the home, 3’ tall. No light in the windows and no smoke from the chimney – but we could faintly see movement through the unshuttered windows. This had to be the place.

The feeling was that there were archers, fighters, and maybe druids and sorcerers in the bandit employ. So we discussed plans quietly around the corner of the wall and eventually opted to have Quintus approach the front and lure some of the bandits out. Then the rest of us would storm forward and assault the back of the Estate House.

Goodberries were handed out and Flimflam also cast a few Invisibility to Animals to cover the entire party, and then had us “touch” his own animals so they could be seen. This should keep the enemy dogs off our ass. And then as ready as we were going to be, Quintus wandered to the front of the place and began walking closer.

A voice from within told him to stop right there and he continued on that all he wanted was his ring back. They went back and forth as he approached and then the grasses around him rippled and he was entangled, held to the ground. A three count came out to bind him and bring him in, taking some of the camp dogs with them – BIG dogs.

This was our chance. The rest of the party climbed over the wall spread out (to avoid being entangled) and charged the wall. A number of us were outlined in purple and green flames – faerie fired. And then arrows were shot out of the window, peppering the party. Zeta was hit a few times and the charge to the house slowed. We tried to return fire and another spell shot out, warping Tranis’ bow and snapping his string!

Quintus was being forced inside and those inside were calling for help – so they double timed it towards the back. Light spells and magic missiles flared, followed by a blast of Tasha’s Uncontrollable hideous Laughter. The inside of the Estate home was illuminated, making it easier to pick our targets. Hit points were whittling away as we closed the gap. The bandits came out, spearheaded by a large fighter-type in chainmail and sporting a well used broadsword. Others followed and more spells and shot went flying. Zeta hit the ground with 2 hp’s left and 4 painful wounds – staying there.

Marcus raced ahead and shot the emerging troupe with a sleep spell, dropping two of them. An attempt was made to Hold Whosea but it failed. Flimflam summoned a hippogriff next, appearing IN the house and assaulting the foes arranged still inside. And still arrows rained amongst the party with devastating accuracy.

We could hear others inside coming to the fight when the ground tore from just in front of Zeta’s prone form, ripping to the north and east in a grinding broken line – 30’ across! And then the earth fell. A crater dropped down 30’, steep sloped sides making egress from those caught in the chasm (Flimflam, Whosea, Sanford, Marcus, and three of the enemy forces as well (the fighter and the two who had been caught in the sleep spell)) almost impossible. There were two cave opening along the eastern side of the pit – each maybe 7’ tall, 6’ wide. And coming from each – over a dozen under warriors, skeletal dogs, zombies, and even a giant skeletal bear.

And they were charging for everyone stuck in the pit.

The druidic leader of the bandits called out, “Truce!” at the same time that Flimflam did. Both sides then turned their attention to the ravenous horde and prepared to do battle with the living dead.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Meet 62, Adv 4, 9/20/14

We had some absences at the table this night, meaning there were fewer than normal players for tonight's meeting. The side effect of this was the fact that the party got a lot accomplished even though everyone was doing double duty and handling additional characters.

We got a chance to see how damage reduction affects the party's effectiveness as well. The Field-Fiend had DR:2 and on the surface, not too terrible, but coupled with the AC: 22 it meant that as a group we had limited effectiveness.

I am a fan of DR and appreciate the simple symmetry it offers in combat. I don't assign it to many foes, only those that seriously need it.

Write up follows:

We had just arrived in Dairymeade, a small village between Timberton and Heatherfield, on Watermonth the 15th, around 6:30. The Thorpe probably held less than 100 people. The largest building was the Laughing Cow Inn where we were located, with a smithy, cheese maker, leatherworker, and chandler making up the other buildings that were not residential homes.

We entered amidst the sound of people chatting and then it grew quiet. From there we went up to the proprietor where we arranged accommodations for the night. The place was simple, the people hard working, and the atmosphere was cautious yet optimistic.

We conversed with the proprietor for a while and learned that there was a problem in town. Something the locals were referring to as “The Field-Fiend” was assaulting their livestock (cows, lots and lots of cows – with some goats). Attacks at night, and only the livestock. If we were really interested, we could talk to the proprietor’s uncle and village’s most important citizen – the Cheesemaker.

So we went and spoke to him, Boris Cokinstock, and learned more of what was going on. A number of cows have come in from the field with red and painful whip-like sores on their flanks. No one has seen what has been accosting the cows, but it’s slowly playing havoc on the bovine population. We went to Harold the leatherworker next with Boris where we got a look at Ethel, the latest victim.

The slashes were maybe no longer than 4’ in length and crisscrossed up and down the legs and flanks of Ethel. Boris and Harold were uncomfortable in us (posing as regular guards) going to find the Field-Fiend, but with some glib tongue and a bit of magic, we convinced Boris to give us a shot. Dairymeade was not a wealthy locale, but they were willing to part with a 15 lb wheel of 2-year old Dairymeade Jack cheese, 10 yards of prime grade calf-skin raw leather, and 4 pairs of butter-rubbed calf-skin high soft boots. We took the job.

They lent us Ethel and we travelled to the northwest of town, perhaps ½ a mile or so away. The cows of Dairymeade were semi nomadic and were never penned at night, so our cow was not unexpected. We however, were. So we positioned ourselves about 60’ away from Ethel and at the lee side of a faint rise of ground, hiding in the tall grass and waited. The idea was that if nothing happened by midnight, we’d go back to Dairymeade with Ethel and concede defeat.

For a little over an hour, nothing happened. The cows fell asleep, only their lowing and farting breaking the night quiet. Eventually we heard movement in the dark and it was growing closer. At the extreme limit of those with infravision’s sight, they saw three bipedal humanoid figures walking closer and closer to Ethel. Do we attack? Wait?

They struck, hitting Ethel on the side and knocking her over. She awoke with an indignant “moo” and righted herself up while the three figures were bent over laughing their asses off. Three youths from Dairymeade – tipping cows. The party was disgusted and Marcus hit them with a sleep spell, knocking them out instantly.

We were deciding what to do next when something 8’long, 4’ tall, 6’ wide, and 300 + lbs smashed into the back of Ethel and pinned her leg with an oversized crushing mandible. It was the biggest damned beetle anyone had ever seen. And it was whipping its antenna back and forth across her legs and flanks, drinking the blood that was running down her skin with its tongue.

Ok, that we’ll fight.

Arrows and spears went flying as we charged the Field-Fiend, Quintus opening up with a salvo of magic missiles and Flimflam calling out a Fairy Fire spell, bathing the armored beetle in green and blue dancing flames. Many of our arrows missed, and those that did hit, bounced off its incredible armored carapace with little if any affect. Even the magic missiles were less effective, the beetle shrugging off most of the lower impacting blows.

We closed to melee range, slowing down long enough to see the beetle FLY at us incredibly fast. It hit Marcus but was unable to get a solid grip on the elven fighter/mage with its mandibles. It’s whipping antenna did however tear into the elf, lacing his skin open like a scourging whip and causing him to reel back in order to defend himself.

The battle was difficult but we stabbed, hacked, and beat at the damned field-fiend with all we had, whittling its vitality away with each swing. And then we heard from the darkness (only Zeta being vaguely aware before it struck) a growling voice shouting in a pidgin of trollish and goblinoid, “Stop a’hurtin’ my girl!” before the 9’ greenskin monstrosity slammed into us and drove us back from the beetle. It was clad in rags and its body was a mass of green and brown thick horny folds of skin. A mop of greasy hair swung from its head but its limbs were just too long and too misshapen to be normal. Its first attack was a blazing fast sweep of blows, claws, and bites which reduced the ranger Tranis from healthy to a single hit point – his face torn open and body suffering from countless body blows.

We circled the beast and tried to keep him from doing another cycle of blows but we quickly deduced that we were outmatched. Even worse, the wounds we were doing to the monster were slow healing before our eyes! More spells were fired and the howling monster ripped Marcus next, shredding the elf and causing him to stagger. Potions and goodberries were being passed left and right but we deduced that we were a bit overmatched. Flimflam called on Demeter and summoned a Black bear which appeared behind the troll and savaged it with it claws, lifting it off the ground and hugging it, tearing it’s chest open.

Coughing and growing weak it stumbled and the group plied all we had left to dropping it and dropping it now. It fell over but even “dead”, its wounds continued to close! Tranis was stabbing it again and again, yelling at the party to “burn it! Burn it now!” Tinderbox, flame, oil, and “WHOOSH!” the figure was ablaze and cooking, the group backing away from the greasy black flames and choking smell.

What of the field-fiend? Thanks to Flimflam’s fairyfire spell, we were able to see it running off to the northwest – so we followed it!. Eventually we tracked it to a hillside and a hole where the light was inside and we circled around, drew ourselves up, and then stormed the cave. 9’ wide, 8’ tall, and deep, we were in the troll’s warren and the field-fiend was here too – along with an amorphous orangey 10’ or so diameter writhing blob larval egg-sac. Fucking great!

Thankfully it was already wounded so we hit it head on with all our strength. Zeta tried to sneak around behind it but attracted the egg-sac thing which detached from the wall and tried to engulf his leg! He danced and hopped and jumped, barely staying ahead of it as it sought him out. Whosea was taking the brunt of the field-fiend’s attacks, the huge dog staggering from the amount of blood loss and wounds hitting him. But the last blow fell and the beetle dumped over – and we had won. But not until we doused the egg sac thing with oil and set it ablaze as well – burning it and 100 larval-stage versions of the same beetle we had just killed.

Zeta warned us that the beetle most likely had a mate somewhere but we did a good thing removing it and killing the Class-6 mutant that assaulted us. Troll, said Tranis. Yes, Class-6 mutant, said Zeta. Ooookay.

We then rooted through the warren and spent almost an hour gathering up the troll’s treasure. Over a thousand coins (the majority of them brass bits), a smattering of simple jewelry, a handful of simple weapons, many yards of filthy silk and linen, over 60#’s of raw tin, 2 wheels of hard cheese, and a traveler’s journal from someone named Trulane Septimus from 15 years ago.

We fashioned sacks and drags, went back to claim Ethel (the boys were gone, and so were the spears and arrows we had used in the battle here) and went back to town. Boris was thankful of our efforts and we made a deal with him where he kept some of the goods we found and we kept the coinage (worked for us). At this point we admitted that we were the adventuring party out of Shakun and he was nice enough to write us a commendation note to take to Heatherfield.

So the next day we awoke early, broke our fast, and paid the caravan a silver and a half to let Whosea ride the cart, the dog was feeling ill from the field-fiend’s attack and Flimflam announced that regular rest was needed.

The area from Dairymeade to Heatherfield is a mix of revitalizing landscape and blasted hellhole. Most of the onetime Estate homes are a dilapidated and burned mess. Many of the fields are wildly overgrown and even years later, there are great swaths of burned and blasted roadway and lands that are nothing but black earth that nothing grows in. Many of the great stone dividing walls have been smashed and stick up here and again like misshapen teeth.

However, there are many many sheep in the area, and the group saw lots of rye and barley being grown, most of it one time wild, but now being tended to and harvested. Hayswains and other early fall signs of harvest are taking place. We did note that there is not nearly enough people working to bring in all the crazy rich bounty that is obvious to the area.

We arrived @ Heatherfield about 6ish that night, got paid and bid the caravan farewell, and made our way down the block to eventually the Sheriff to announce ourselves. He suggested we stay at the Mane and Tails and would let the local lord, Gelus Kayzer, know we were here and could set up conversation with him then.

We dropped off Whosea @ the temple of Demeter and arranged sleeping @ the Mane & Tails. Zeta and Tranis slept in the common room and it mostly was locals doing their best to get a night of cheap sleep. However, late that night a barbarian from the Beastly Hills came in and slept naked, not caring about the people around him. Zeta noticed the figure a tattoo similar to his own. So at breakfast he had conversation with the man who identified himself as Calharag. They talked about the symbol and Zeta tried to call it the Nek’Tar – and Calharag corrected him, saying the pronunciation was Netarg. He was on a vision quest for his shaman to go to the Endless forest and kill 50 goblins, bringing their bits and teeth back as proof. Then he would get to go to Netarg for the 8th time. Zeta made note of all his details and wished him well.

At this point we realized that Heatherfield had very few elves in it, which had Marcus with his hood up. However, half-elves were in abundance (1 in 5). We met with Lord Kayzer and talked about the banditry, giving him the letters from Baron Taugis and Boris Cokinstok and getting a heads up on what we might be facing. The bandits don’t strike constantly, often targeting lone travelers.  They seem to have honor and haven’t killed anyone – taking their belongings. The worst of the assaults is a grey misting blowing into the face/eyes which causes temporary blindness and allows the robbers a chance to get away without being traced/tracked. He arranged for us to meet the last three who were robbed so we could interview them.

Tellium Ditchdigger – He and his son were robbed 2 months ago. They were hunting for quail. Half a dozen or so attacked him and his son. Took his quail, clubbed him when he got mouthy. He was difficult to talk to, taking offense with much of the party – did come back at the end of the interview and was going to go with the group to “get those bastards” tomorrow.

Deliusi Arbandotter – Was herding her sheep back late 5 weeks ago. Bandits took the oldest and fattest sheep and whatever coins she had. Five of them, they seemed to be either Helfs or Humans, and they had 2 really big shepherds with them. Strangest thing, they gave her a leather cloak to wrap around her since it was raining that day and were very courteous.

Ionus op Heatherfield – Strung out came to mind on meeting with this one. “2 weeks ago they took my damned cheese I went all the way to Dairymeade to get. 5# block of salted Cheddar! I tried to fight them off, but they beat me about the head until I fell off Old Bessie where they kicked me until I passed out. How many? 10 I would guess. Yeah, 10. Otherworldly looking (points to Zeta) sorta like that one but without the fucked up hair color.”

We thanked Lord Kayzer for putting it together for us and left, assuming we were going to investigate north of town @ all the abandoned estate houses on the morrow. It was now 9:30 AM on Watermonth the 17th and we were on our way back to the Mane and Tail to discuss our exact plans.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Meet 61, Adv 4, 9/13/14

We had a change of people at the table after not playing for 22 weeks and that meant the roster of characters also changed as well. So we had three new characters get introduced and had to weave them into the story and game accordingly.

I am not one of those DM's that says what you can and can't play - as long as you understand that your unique snowflake might not fit in to the rest of the world/group/setting - and will have to suffer through it accordingly. So I have a new player who rolls up his guy and declares that he wants his half-elf to be a "Space Elf" - from somewhere completely different - somehow transported here and trying to find his way.

I do have Spelljammers and have had the Barrier Peaks impact on my world before so this isn't outside the realm of possible - but I am not going to just hand it to him. His character looks and is exactly like a group of half crazed Helf we liberated when we complete Candlewick Keep - and there is no reason to think he is NOT one of those Helfs.

But he also isn't, having a full knowledge of some sort of Edgar Rice Borrough's/Gama World sort of life before now. I am walking a fine line and something planned (actually 2) in the future around this assuming he lives. We'll see what the party does with it.

Write up follows:

The party met with the representatives from the Argosility Mage’s Guild, the high master present was named Derin Longfire. The group spent a few days going over all the items found, gathering prices for them, deciding what needed to be sold off, and arranging a trip to Ferron to sell the mundane gear there since the current Trading House which was once Sern’s was still in the process of being stocked and changed over to the new merchant family, Marig.

Towards the end of the 3 day visit, the conversation turned to one of Derin’s assistants, a young magic-user of some skill named Quintus. Quintus was once a child of Shakun but had been squirrelled away after his 14th birthday when he developed magical ability and almost burned down the family home. He has spent the majority of his time in Gul and Argosility, training and refining his control and craft. As of this time, Master Longfire has declared Quintus no longer either a neophyte nor an apprentice, and releases him from his need and requirement to return to the Chapterhouse in Argosility.

The conversation then turned to the Mage’s Guild reestablishing ties with the long forgotten “west”. It has been over a quarter of a century since they’ve had any chapterhouses West of Gul and by having a Chapterhouse Mage working with one of the first Adventuring Groups that has been reestablished is not only exciting, but a boon for recruitment for future wizards as well as allowing the guild to have some sort of presence out here. Plus they are willing to pick up the 35 crown Charter fee.

The party was happy to welcome Quintus and he was escorted with us back to the Hall of Heroes where he met everyone and was then given a room assignment. As a final, Master Longfire asked the party (since they were always looking for “adventure worthy goals”) to be on the look out for 4 different magical items that had been in the Chapterhouse inventory before the Goblinwar, but had been either lost or stolen during that time. These items are marginally dangerous and require some care if found. A bounty was placed on each item (from 400 crowns to 2,000) should the group uncover the items in question and bring them back to the Chapterhouse.

At this time it was decided that Auri, Mummus, and Taryn would all be travelling east to Ferron and Gul to sell off what wares we could before returning. We told them that we would be most likely heading to Heatherfield and on their return, should meet us there next. They left with a hand cart laden with trade goods and hoped to return soon.

A few days later we were requested to meet with Father Gavilerin @ the Temple Grounds. It seems that for the last month or so he has had a strange Half-Elf who had been suffering from some wounds as well as malnutrition at the Hospice. Identified as Zeta, he had a fanciful story that he was a Space Elf (or Helf) who had been the victim of a dragon-sorcerer’s phase shifting singularity spell and wound up here on this primitive planet in some keep that had been burning – about 2 months ago. He then wandered the woods, eking out a survival in the Endless Forest when a goblin patrol stumbled upon him. Using the only weapon he had with him, an item he referred to as a Vibrodagger – he killed the goblins, took their strange metallic rocks, and kept walking south. Eventually he was found and brought to Shakun where Father Gavilerin has been taking care of him for almost a month.

He is “healthy”, although still only half convinced that he belongs here and is not a Space-Elf. Father Gavilerin wanted the party to meet with Zeta because a number of his descriptions of where he had been matched the stories and locales the group had said was Candlewick Keep. When we first met him, Zeta looked very familiar (with the green hair and red eyes) to the crazed half-elves who had been deep under the Hestian curse @ Candlewick, and Geld, who originally lived there, was 100% sure that Zeta was one of the half-elves. However, Zeta had no idea who the group was and knew things that were either such a delusion or so far removed from this plane of reality that there was little way of knowing with 100% accuracy if he was indeed a Space-Elf.

The Temple grounds was able to pay for the Charter to have Zeta join the party, his skills as a fighter already proven by his scars and survival;, his scouting and exploring skills implied by his tales. We also brought him back to the Hall of Heroes (freeing up a much needed bed @ the Hospice) and helped him become indoctrinated with the party.

We had already had conversation with Baron Taugis about going after the next bandit enclave – this one between Timberton and Heatherfield. Doing so would open up the trade roads a bit more and allow much needed horses and ponies to be traded with Shakun, Orland, and Timberton. We accepted the mission and according to Baron Taugis were given 75 crowns up front for food and supplies, with another 75 to come @ the end on completion. Also, there was a 25 crown bounty for each bandit we were able to bring in (alive).

So many of us were completing our training and equipping for this adventure when we received a visitor. A ranger names Tranis from Sorkajot (all the way on the other side of the kingdom, north of Gul and near the border with Daro) had come here after his 2 year stint as a border guard was up. He wanted to opportunity to make more of himself and the Adventuring Group’s existence and the promise of the open west appealed to him. So he took the trip out here and was hoping to be hired on. Since we knew that we wanted a Ranger in the group, especially one who was a certified King’s Man (even if of the lowest tier) would only further enhance our standing and authority. He was welcomed with open arms and we went to Town Hall where we filled out a new Charter and had it registered.

As the days progressed, Marcus had a late night visitor. A white and yellow plate mail clad elven person named Speaker Delarrin Othicari. He wanted an accounting from Marcus as to exactly what happened to Fist’al and where he thinks he might be. There were obvious holes in the official story (a bounty for a donkey?) but Marcus was forthright (if full of shit) and unwavering in his answers. Delarrin then went to the Hall of Heroes to talk to Flimflam, getting the same sort of answers there. He left thanking everyone for their aid and promising to be in touch in the near future.

Finally, Watermonth the 11th, the party was ready and gear was handed out as needed to our new and former companions. We left during the crisp fall day, the temperature over 60 and the sky clear. It took us the majority of the day to make it to the Roaring Treant Inn where we split up into the Common room as well as some purchased bedrooms. We had seen many travelers during the day, but the most bothersome was a dozen elves on horseback, clad in white and yellow, heading west towards Shakun. For some reason, we felt good to be out of town when we did.

We slept in, Quintus enticing one of the bar wenches to help warm his bed (it was a miserable time, she just lied there). The next morn was a mass of pounding rain and wind, cold temperatures in the 50’s. We opted to stay here another day.

We left the next day (the 13th) and made it to Timberton before more inclement weather struck. Timberton was a logging town – perhaps 800 or so people, a couple of mills, lots of work – most of it dirty. Watching our coins we did not want to stay in the Inn, instead getting room and board at the Dowager Merrins home. We stayed the night and also the next day, the weather working against us.

Finally on Watermonth the 15th we trekked our way south towards Heatherfield. There was a Thorpe between the two towns called Dairymeade where we hoped to make before evening fell. Our only major travelers on the road was a group of men travelling south, hoping to be one step ahead of the tax collectors and not appear on the census rolls. In doing so, they will avoid paying taxes for this quarter. We wished them well and kept going.

It was just before 6 PM on Watermonth the 15th when we came upon the small village of Dairymeade. An earthen work surrounded the maybe 15 or 20 buildings, a pair or rolling barricades could act as gates if need be. There was a large inn on one side of the road and a prominent cheese maker was on the other. The party stood before the inn named “The Laughing Cow” and then proceeded toward the front door.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

9/6/14 - One Shot B/X

This was 21 weeks after our last meeting and before rolling into our normal game, I set up a one-shot B/X dungeon crawl through a modified and shortened version of B5 - Horror on the Hill. I planned on a full compliment of 7 players, expecting to have less at the table. Four were on time, 2 showed up a bit later. It made an interesting mix since we had 2 groups doing the dungeon, not working together and approaching the adventure differently. As typical - the adventure was not "completed", but the party had a great time.

The write up follows:

The town of Bordersbridge has been under a terrible yoke of despair for the last few weeks. There is an evil that has reawakened in the decade long destroyed Monastery that was once a safe haven for the followers of Ares. Whatever that has taken root there once more has preyed upon the people of Bordersbridge. First there was the assault on the town’s Orphanage – 16 children taken and a 500 crown ransom. The town paid it and the children were returned.

A week later the guild hall was assault and 25 guild members and their family were taken. This time the ransom was for 2,000 crowns to be delivered to the Monastery or they would be killed – the Baron paid it and the guild members were released. A week later there was a fire at the granary and when it was over, 34 members of the Baron’s family and staff were taken – with only the baron himself left behind – killed and split in half, the upper portion impaled on a spike. A letter pinned to his chest said we had a week to pay the 5,000 crown ransom of they would be killed.

The council of lords opted to take a different stance and send out a call for Adventurers to hunt down and bring back the Baron’s family. 7 of them answered and said they would go. The adventurers opted to get their own followers as well and the day to set out came – 4 of the 7 gathered. Fighter, Cleric, Dwarf, and Elf – along with 3 followers. The Halfling, Magic-User, and Thief were late. We opted not to wait for them and set on our way.

The land on the way to the former Monastery shows former signs of devastation and destruction from whatever evil occurred here a decade earlier. It was a few miles of walking until we arrived and beheld the location. It was 10 Am at this time and the Monastery sat quiet in the still air. The grounds were maybe 400’ by 350’. The outer walls were in bed shape, perhaps 4’ in height top and crumbled. The original gates were long gone, rotted or stolen away. Inside the grounds we saw a small garrison building on the southwest, a crypt on the south, some sort of deep pool/pond in the center, and the main building taking the majority of the grounds from the northeast. A faint mist or haze was rising from the grounds. Sickly yellowish vines were growing all around the walls. We could see drag of path-made marks from many walking people through the two former gates. However the entire grounds were quiet. Eerily quiet – no bids, bugs, anything.

The party did not want to enter the grounds and after some deliberation opted to circle the grounds from the outside and maybe see if they could enter the Monastery from the north through a window or something similar. It was while walking around the north side of the grounds that they saw a possibility. The walls of the Monastery here were 12 or so feet high and along the furthest northeast corner were 2 windows, each 15’ wide and 3’ tall – the glass that was once there long gone. Also, the number of yellow vines were much less around here.

There was some conversation on who would climb up and investigate – the concern was that the thief and the Halfling were not here. The dwarf nominated the elf to climb and take a long, which had the elf reply, “Does that wall look like a tree? It’s stone, you’re a dwarf, you climb it.”

This much closer, we also noted that in this final area of the building, there seemed to be no roof along the final 80’. Looking through the window, we could see the sky beyond it. We looked around the ground; there was no broken roof either. Where’d it go? What happened here? The Fighter drank his potion of Flying and took a look himself. He flew 20’ over the top of the wall and looked down.

There was an open area – 160’ long, 80’ wide. 9 stunted birch trees surrounded the perimeter. A 40’ wide bowl, 4” deep, fed by a fountain in the center, ran to a long pool, 3” deep. The grounds inside were covered with yellowing flowers and grasses – very thick. There was a door on the southwest corner of the big room that led further into the Monastery proper. The fighter had picked up the elf and ferried him over the wall and to the door – careful of the grasses and distrusting of their look. They lowered the rope to make sure that nothing was in the grasses (it seemed clear) and then went to the ground. They did note the earth felt strange. It was with some steps that they were able to detect the missing glass from the ceiling had fallen and had 10 years of growth over it.

Listening to the door (which showed some sign of former burning – but was cool now) had nothing on the other side. The fighter used his strength but could not get the door opened by himself, the elf helped him and it popped open with a loud screech.

Inside was at one time the library, it was old and burned. A mound of old books and dirt – various garbage. There was another door on the north wall. The feeling is that the garbage was at one point used as a rat’s nest – but there was nothing here anymore.

The Fighter went out and started ferrying the other party members over. During the transfer, there was a building rumbling and the smoky mist grew denser and then a 40’ wide, 100’ tall steam vent blasted out. We watched it as it lasted for a minute before ending.

Once all inside there was some discussion about maybe drinking from the fountain, with the party split on trying it out. We tried to convince the followers to do it, all of them declining. The elf wandered around the library, looking for any secret doors – not finding any but did find a hidden scroll case. Inside were 4 scrolls with two cure light wounds and 2 other clerical spells.

We then went back to the fountain, this time the dwarf deciding to take some. It was very smoky and lights flashed. He drank it down and every attribute dropped 1 point. The elf then asked, “Is…uh…anyone going to drink that?” The dwarf went to drink another time, and it was now – ok for him.  We were able to convince the hireling to take a drink; this one was able to gain 2 permanent hit points.  The Cleric went last, gaining a +1 to his Wisdom. At this point, no one wanted to take a drink.

We went back to the library and listened to the other door, hearing nothing. With care we opened it and looked. A long corridor went off to the left, well over 100’, a side passage 30’ ahead and running to the right. There was a door in front of us, closed. Down the hall were 3 more doors. Maybe 4 torches were lit and we talked about what to do next. The Fighter opted to fly to the corner and check around, seeing the corridor went 80’, with another side passage on the left, half way down.

Meanwhile, the Magic-User had overslept and arrived at the inn to go on the adventure about 40 minutes late. He and his two hirelings then raced off to the east once they found out the other 4 members had already gone. Then, about 10 minutes after that the Halfling and the thief had met up and decided that this was a stupid idea. The Halfling was leaving Bordersbridge, going to the next village of Hommlet to hang out and wait for the thief who was going to meet up with the group and try to either steal something of value, or grab 1 piece of treasure and jet. The thief stayed behind the mage and his 2 helpers, keeping them in sight but not wanting to fully meet up or commit.

The mage had gotten close enough to the Monastery to see the Fighter flying over the wall for the last time after the geyser had gone off. He and his two followers worked their way to the back to the grounds and contemplated how they were going to possibly get over the wall.

Inside the Monastery, the group had made the decision to go down to the side corridor and check out that direction when the detected a noise from the door opposite the library. Some listening revealed Hobgoblin voices, and quite a number of them. Shit. What to do? Fight them? Avoid them? The vote was to leave them where they were for now; however the door opened into the other room, not the hall. The Fighter had a bright idea of tying the two door handles together – the Hobgoblin room and the Library room. It should slow down and hopefully stop/prevent the Hobgoblins from coming out should we inadvertently alarm them.

Ropes tied in place we then snuck down to the right corridor and followed it to the left. There were two doors there. We peeked in the first one, door was ajar, and it was the entrance hall of the monastery. Five large statues of Ares were present and we could see the front door, closed but in good condition. We then listened to the next door and heard two deep bass voices within. They were speaking a strange language and we were going to go in and take them down.

Outside the wizard and the two followers were messing with the yellowy rotten-melon smelling vine when it burst and sent sticky sap all over the henchman’s club – dissolving it away! From there we threw rocks at the remaining vibes we could see in order to break them and remove the potential threat. They wanted to get over the wall and were talking about who would be best. One of the henchmen made it to the top, braced one leg over the window sill and reached down to help hoist up the wizard.

At this point the thief made his presence known and the four of them talked. The thief went up with his rope tied to the wall outside, through the window, and then down the other side tied to the base of the nearest birch tree. With the rope in place, it was much easier for everyone to climb up and over, entering the gardens/fountain area.

Inside, the dwarf smashed the door with his shoulder, battleaxe at the ready. The room was large and there were two 9’ tall, 750 lbs Ogres inside, sitting on their benches at a table and playing dice. On our entrance they stand up and yell. The Fighter goes first, flying in, leaving the dwarf filling the doorway. One of the ogres hurls the bench at the door, and it smashed into the dwarf, knocking him down. The Fighter hacks into the first Ogre with his sword, and the two of them are in melee. The elf drinks his potion of Growth and swells to 10’ in height and very wide.

The rest of the party tears into the room and hits the Ogres with all they have. The dwarf gets up at the end of it and the joins the fight. The Ogres are very strong and do terrible damage, most of their attacks at the dwarf. However, at one point one of the hirelings got in the way of a club blow and went down screaming – barely alive. The two Ogres held their own but the Fighter and the giant Elf are going at them – killing one. The last Ogre tries to escape, running away, but the Dwarf and Fighter beat him before he can escape.

Once dead they look around. Some key, various coins, a few sacks of cold, trunks and boxes. They opted to open the trunk (key and unlock), 5 jugs of wine and a leather sack was here. The sack jingled, but inside it was filled with Silver. When they were combining it all together, the realized there was a lot more in the bag than expected. Bag of Holding. We consolidated our treasures and then looked around the room. There was another door on the left hand side of the room, closed and locked.

Out in the garden, one of the henchmen wanted a drink, getting a bonus to his Str and Dex. Then the one who lost his club was going to break off a branch – but the Wizard begged him not to. The Wizard took a drink and received 2 to his Dexterity. The Thief was not going to drink it no matter what. The four of them went to the Library and gave it a good once over. They gave the garbage a pass, working past it to the door on the north wall.

The door was held by something and the group plied their strength together, ripping it open with a lot of noise. The ripped the rope that was holding both doors closed and the other door opened – revealing 6 goblins and 6 hobgoblins. At this point, not being able to talk each others’ language, but the Hobgoblins able to understand Common (if not able to speak it), they are under the impression the group is supposed to be here. Through very favorable reactions and good luck, they were able to show that they were not a problem and should be taken down to the Hobgoblin king below. So…the Thief, Magic-User, and 2 hirelings were escorted into the Hobgoblin room, down the stairs, and into the Hobgoblin catacomb lair – to meet the king.

The rest of the group used the key on the last door and found 4 Neanderthals inside. The dwarf was able to relate to them and used the keys to free them. The cavemen were swayed by us and opted to follow us along. We equipped them with whatever clubs we could find (no armor or club) and had 4 new front line fighters. The Cleric then used 2 of the scrolls of Cure Light Wounds – healing the Fighter and Dwarf closer to full. The Fighter was no longer flying. We went back to the main hall and began walking down towards the three doors in that direction. Not noticing the broken rope in the dim torch light. There was one room that was an altar to Ares, we moved on to the next one.

The Thief, Magic-User, and 2 henchmen were led down into the catacombs and began walking. They passed many many hobgoblins, an arena where the Baron’s family and henchmen were being kept, and other places where we assumed there was some smithy work. There was a closed door where we were let past. Some calls went out and we heard ‘Password’ and then we were allowed beyond. Here the Hobgoblins were much better armed and armored. And then we were led to the Hobgoblin king and leader.

He was a large heavily muscled specimen and there were a half dozen well armed and definitely leader type-hobgoblins about. The conversation between the king and the party went difficult as he would often issues commands that the thief or magic-user would try to follow, only to have him bark a slightly differing or countering edict that they would scramble to obey. Eventually it was explained to him that the town of Bordersbridge had sent a party of adventurers here to kill him and take the humans back and that the Thief and wizard had come to warn him.

He looked favorably on them and told the group to lead 10 of his best warriors against the party upstairs and they would be richly rewarded for helping him. He gave the thief one of the original Ares blessed spears that was once in the vaults of the Monastery, a +2 glowing weapon – advising him to “kill as many of the scum that you can”.

They now had 10 hobgoblin warriors and 6 goblin bowmen at their beck and call – and they were then led/leading the mass of 20 of them back through the catacombs and towards the stairs to the 2nd floor.

The upstairs party continued their exploration, eventually coming across the armory and supply room. Everyone who could grabbed crossbows, shields, more spears; just getting ready for what they thought was going to be a fight with whoever would be in the room they had tied shut.

The hobgoblin party had come up the stairs and were going to lead the group to “team up with the Ogres” when they noted the noise and light down the hall, seeing the party down there sort of plundering the stores. A quick plan was put in the place and the goblins and hobgoblins sprung into action. They filled the hall and bows were slung back, arrows flying down. Only one actually struck the “good” party – striking one of the Neanderthals. The hobgoblins then filled the hall, staying to the right, hoping to throw spears as soon as possible. The thief and magic user (and hirelings) tried to stay in the back of the group. The wizard cast Shield on himself.

The elf raised his hands and pointed down the hall, casting sleep. It hit the lead goblins, dropping five of the goblin archers immediately. The Neanderthals ran up, clubs raised, and the fighter let loose his crossbow, hitting one of the hobgoblins, wounding him. The Cleric then cast hold person on the lead hobgoblins, freezing two of them in place. The hirelings let loose their own crossbows, dropping another hobgoblin.

The lone goblin then shot and the hobgoblins ran closer around the mass of people, hurling spears. Neanderthals began dropping and the battle lines crashed. Clubs and spears were plied left and right and more crossbows were shot. The thief pulled out his potion of Invisibility and sucked it down, hiding in the library. No one noticed.

Hobgoblins in the back threw spears while the lead ones stabbed. The good party charged closer and blows were traded back and forth. One lone hobgoblin was trying to get the Mage and hirelings in the fight, accepting the fact that the thief was actually somewhere in the fight (and not running away – making it to the garden). The mage then cast Charm Person on the rear-most hobgoblin, ensorcelling him. He was convinced to attack, hurling his spear, letting the magic-user and the two hirelings to make their way to the library.

At this point the battle turned against the hobgoblins and they made the attempt to flee. The party hacked and swung, dropping hobgoblins left and right and another one was hit by flying oil. A burning hobgoblin managed to make the corridor and ran for the stairs.

The group tried to talk to magic-user and find out what was going on, but there was lots of distrust and the Fighter assumed the Magic User was an evil one. Especially since the hobgoblin (charmed one) was defending him and on his side. So the wizard cast web on the Fighter and held the doorway closed. Then the hobgoblin was running with the wizard and henchmen trying to make it for the far end of the garden to use the rope to escape. Meanwhile the thief had already climbed over (invisible) and was on his way for the town.

The cleric poured a potion of Fire resistance down the fighter’s throat and they set the web on fire – eventually getting him free. The hobgoblin was holding the door closed between the garden and the library, ordering the rest of his group to run. The dwarf and his Neanderthal were running for the main entrance of the Monastery and hoped to cut the fleeing wizard off from the outside.

Eventually the fire burned the fighter free and the elf ran past, hitting the door and tore it out of the hobgoblin’s grasp. The hobgoblin pointed north to the fleeing magic-user and two henchmen and said, “I give up! There they go!” The elf and Fighter ran past. The Wizard had reached the top of the wall, his hirelings coming up behind, when he cut the rope behind him (What the fuck!?!?!) and dropped to the other side to try to run back to town.

Not wanting to see him get away, the elf cast “Floating disk”, popped the fighter on it, and being affected by the growth potion, his stride was much longer. He ran down the length of the pool, the two hirelings standing there in shock at being abandoned, the fighter bouncing along ahead of him on the magical disk, loading a crossbow. Meanwhile the dwarf and Neanderthal had reached the outside and were tearing for a break in the northern wall. The wizard was running away, but the giant elf pulled himself up a birch tree, and sent his disk rocketing ahead of him to max range, bringing the fighter close enough to fire his crossbow at the “evil” mage – hitting him. He stumbled and slowed, trying to flee – but a second bolt hit him and he slumped over – fading away just at the same time the Neanderthal caught up to him and beat him to death.

Meanwhile, the Cleric and remaining henchmen were talking to the two that had been abandoned by the wizard where they heard a tale about the thief (no one on the “good” side ever actually saw him), spear of Ares, Hobgoblin King, and the sheer number of hobgoblins that were going to be coming up from the catacombs VERY soon since one of them had escaped the battle. The Cleric convinced everyone to leave the Monastery now and head back to Bordersbridge to let them know what’s going on and to be forewarned about the trouble stirred up here and coming their way.

The thief? He took his magical spear, bypassed Bordersbridge entirely, and headed off not to the next village of Hommlet to meet the Halfling, but elsewhere to sell his treasure and put his time and experienced behind him.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Returning - soon!

So we did the math and it will be 22 weeks after we had to take a break that we'll return to the table to play on September 13th. 5 months.

We are actually getting together on the 6th to play a 1-shot 5th level-ish B/X dungeon crawl for Phat Lewt and bragging rights - mainly because it's been so long and we figured some clattering of 20's and declining hit points is just what we need to get the blood flowing again.

So there you go, hiatus almost over and we'll be returning very soon.

Thanks again for reading and following!


Tuesday, July 8, 2014


No, we haven't disappeared from the 'verse. Nor were we eaten by black puddings.

We had to take a ill-desired break due to me, the DM, having major house construction going on. We could have met at another person's house, but truthfully, I want to have my home back in order so any time I am not spending on fixing the place back up is another day I have to sleep in the basement.

I would guess another month tops before we are back - and I know my group is just as anxious to get back to the game.

Thanks for the patience!


Friday, March 28, 2014

Meet 60, Adv 3.5, 3/15/14

This was our wrap-up meeting for the 2nd half of the adventure - and adventure that ended no where near the place that it had originated in. In fact - the party wasn't "there" for the end of the adventure and had abandoned the plot about 3/4 of the way through.

At this point they will have to clean up their pile of "purloined" treasures and pay off their hirelings as well as Baron Taugis and the citizenry of Shakun. Three of the party members had gone up in level (Half of Marcus, Mummus, and Taryn - the new gnomish cleric) and one of the party members retired (Sanric the bounty hunter) - to be replaced with his new character - a sorcerer.

The party has dealt with their internal betrayal and hopefully have the catharsis that it would demand - allowing us to move on to the next adventure and do so without any problems.

Write up follows:

So there it was, 12:30 AM, on Workmonth the 18th and we snuck out of Elvenkeep through the Church of Poseidon’s controlled Horsegate – a normally livestock passage through the thick walls along the northern border of the stronghold. The guards on duty paid us no mind and we took to the road travelling west. The dark hours passed for some time until just after dawn where we rested the horses and got some minimal sleep before pressing on – eventually making Ferron @ 8 PM that night.
We had no pursuit and kept to ourselves during the trip, avoiding any travelers and any possible questions that might follow. At Ferron we did NOT stay at one of the fancier hotels, instead going somewhere off the beaten path where Sanric grabbed a suite for himself and the rest of the group fended in the Commonroom or bunked with Flimflam and his animals.
At 6 AM we were up and on our way, knowing that we wanted at some point to have conversation with the Leatherworker’s Guild here and maybe entice some of the journeymen to come out to Shakun and work on reopening the Tannery there – jumpstart the decade long defunct leather industry. We arrived at Timberton @ 9 PM that evening where we took room at a matron dowager who let us a place to sleep, eating sparsely and again – answering no questions.
On Workmonth the 20th we were up and again, on our way by 6 AM – knowing that it was not going to be until tomorrow evening that we’d be back in Shakun. It was around 1 PM that day that a 5’ wide, 17’ long, 2’ tall very fast lizard emerged from the woods, glanced at us, and took off very fast. Flimflam used a speak with animal spell and had conversation with the racing lizard, eventually convincing it to follow us and we would keep it sated with deer meat.
We made the Roaring Treant Inn by 7 PM that night where we took rooms and rested our horses. Flimflam had some conversation with the stableboy, Taulib, happy to see that the young man had continued with his adoption of Demeter as his patron goddess and the two of them further expanded on the stableboy’s indoctrination to Flimflam’s religion.
On Workmonth the 21st, amidst the dreary late summer rain, we were on our way by 7 AM, racing lizard keeping pace as we travelled on. It was about 4 PM when we hit the lizard with a sleep spell, hobbled it with lengths of rope and muzzled it as well, and then loaded most of it onto the cart and continued on our way to Shakun. When the lizard awoke, it was wroth and tried to escape, but the ropes held it in place and eventually it seemed to burn itself out a bit and grew weary and lank from expending too much energy.
We made Shakun by 7 PM on Workmonth the 21st and took care of a few things. Eherego gave us 1000 crowns for the racing lizard, and Higrane (the stablemaster) was furious that we had kept the few horses that the town had for 2 weeks longer than originally expected. This pushed back @ least 3 caravans and impacted much of the local farmers and homsesteaders that were depending on the original schedule. We paid the extended rental fees and apologized for the situation – admitting that we needed to open the traderoads between here and Heatherfield so that Shakun could get some new horses and ponies.
We met with the Baron @ 8:30 PM where we also saw the Marshall and the Captain of the Guard. We had learned of the strange uprising that occurred 5 days ago, over 20 of the youth’s that had died during the uprising had arisen as ghouls and swarmed over the walls from the cemetery where they made attack on the city, tearing through Tanner’s Way and making it as far as the Pixie Down Inn. They were eventually stopped though a joint effort of the town’s fighter’s, the Marshall’s men, Zarik Ikarsbane and his warriors’ in training, the militia, and most surprisingly – a visiting fighter and sellsword named Kadan who lead the charge and turned the tide on the undead scourge.
We learned that the appraisers from the Argosilitian Mage’s Guild was still here and was waiting to see us and help Baron Taugis and the party come up with a fair and equitable amount for what we had found as well as what the town was able to earn. We had much to do and were happy to finally be home and not have to run out anymore. So we left the Baron Fist’al’s head and made out way back to the Hall of Heroes were we were hoping to get some sleep and face the new day on the morrow.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Meet 59, Adv 3.5, 3/8/14

As a group about the table, the party was pretty furious at Fist'al (and lesserly to the player playing him) so much so that when the betrayal occurred, the game had come to a crashing stop, adventure forgotten, and we had a new focus. Also, Flimflam had said at that time, "We're going to find that bastard and make him eat his own dick."

Obviously an "anger" statement and not one to be taken literally. Except that was definitely on the table and one of the many plans for the elven murderer - and when they had the opportunity, that is exactly what they had made the culprit do.

Let me tell you, for a table of guys, we were all a bit grossed out at it. I also think that the death of Fist'al and our "missing" the rest of the regular adventure was sort of a catharsis for us - and we'll be a tighter group because of it.

Our roster of people are in flux but after the next write-up I should be able to post it correctly without a problem.

Write up follows:

With our false documents in hand we went to Elvengate, a southern entrance to Woodhelven located up against Elvenkeep. The guards there were only nominally suspicious of us, addressing Marcus primarily and reminding him (and the rest of us) that anything that might go wrong would be on his head.

We were through the gate and proceeded as best we could in a south-southeasterly direction, hoping to find the encampment Fist’al was hiding in before he moved on. A three count of elven Dragoons rode out to us, verified our paperwork, and seemed to be only marginally interested in the cover story we had concocted. The party felt a bit out of place, the forest was old – terribly old – and we knew we had to step lightly, and get out.

A number of unicorns had emerged at one point, the group was pretty much ensorcelled by their appearance, but the equines had then moved on. We were looking for the Shimmerstream – a major waterway in Woodhelven that we knew from the scrying before ran very close to the encampment Fist’al was hiding in.

It was just about 10 to 5 that we came upon it, and we were also hailed by a figure in the forest. An elven female emerged from some distance and questioned why we were here. Guessing her to be scout for the encampment, we tried to draw her out in conversation but she was having none of it. Instead she was willing to escort us around the training lands of “The Brotherhood of the Silent Shot” and guide us on our way to Elvenkeep.

We allowed her (Celwyn) to do so, noting that she did walk us some 500 north and then turned at a right angle and walked us some 300 west – giving the group the feeling where the encampment actually was. We also were able to pick up faint sounds and bird calls from behind Celwyn, making us even more aware that the Brotherhood (and maybe even Fist’al) were out there. The jig was about up, because Fist’al would see any of us, or catch our name – he’d most likely run.

It was here that we then turned and dove for cover, while Auri and Mummus tackled Celwyn and finished her off before she could do anything more than bark in surprise. Arrows filled the air as we scrambled off our horses, the group being on the receiving end of the crazy fusillade of feathered shafts falling about us. On the enemy side we did hear one of the member cast a bless spell, which resulted in the arrows falling with a bit more accuracy.

The group returned fire but the amount of trees and cover made it difficult to get an accurate shot on either side. What we did do though, was concentrate most of our fire on the enemy cleric, forcing him to seek shelter and prevented him from casting spells as freely and as fast as expected.

The group sneaked their way forward, jumping from behind one tree and racing to the next one, bringing the fight closer and closer to the elven contingent. Flimflam held onto his precious bottle of “Elven Control” and was trying to get within 30’ of Fist’al – supposedly how far we had to be for the potion to work. But in our struggle to get closer fast enough, we came within range of one of the elven defenders who fired off a sleep spell – which dropped Whosea and Auri – but was NOT powerful enough to also knock out Flimflam. And our gnomish leader quaffed his potion, took control of Fist’al and had the thief/murderer step out and shout, “Enough!”

With Flimflam controlling Fist’al we were able to sort of allow the Brotherhood of the Silent Shot to let us go, Fist’al “volunteering” to lead us out. We went, hoping against hope that we could far enough from the Brotherhood as possible and NOT run across any other elven contingent in the forest. Especially while using an extremely illegal “potion of Elven Control”. We ticked off the minutes – knowing that we had 60 minutes of the potion to be used before it would end.

At 20 minutes north of the Brotherhood, we had Fist’al strip off all his armor, weaponry, and magical items, the rest of the party quickly scooping them us and hiding them throughout the party. And then it became gruesome and Flimflam forced Fist’al to bend himself completely over in, swing his leg over his head…and then physically eat his own manhood from his own body and swallow it. Even though it was something Flimflam had said he would make Fist’al do, it was still terrible to behold; blood running down his chin, the former thief chewing his own flesh off and swallowing it.

From here we then forced him to swallow the potion of polymorph, turning him into a donkey. Which immediately broke the potion of elven control since he was no longer an elf. A calm animal spell eased him up and we dropped rope and bridle on his neck and escorted Fist’al out of the elven forest where we entered Elvenkeep through the main gate. From here we went to the Temple of Poseidon where the priests were thrilled to have the murderer brought in for justice.

And their justice was a multi-tiered thing of brutality and cruelty – rape, torture, death, healing, breaking and battering. Over 30 times Fist’al’s heart stopped beating during the 6 days of torture, the priests continuously bringing back north of 0 hps. But it was midnight the 17th or Workmonth, Fist’al had been broken and we were given supplies for the long journey back to Shakun. The only thing left was the removal of Fist’al’s head with a burning hot sword and the cauterized grisly item placed at the bottom of a leather-lined sack filled with oats.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Meet 58, Adv 3.5, 3/1/14

The group did a lot of travel on this adventure and I could have sped it up and hand-waved most of it, but decided not to. Multiple reasons: to show the passage of time, to allow the opportunity for road encounters, and to give the world scope and size - not dots of civilization and things to do with bland greyness between.

At this meeting the party did make it to Elvenkeep and I was able to give them a sense of scale to the size of it. Mentioned often, first time actually seen. They had no time to explore it, limiting themselves to the Temple of Poseidon and Artemis - but there was enough of a gravitas to it that I don't think they were short changed.

Write up follows:

Workmonth the 7th, on the road back from Orland to Shakun, 9:30 PM. We talked about of plans and wanted to literally stop in Shakun briefly, get fresh horses, send some missives ahead to every church, shrine, and temple of Poseidon that the rookery of Shakun would reach. We slept soundly and moved on the morning of the next day.

We hit a merchant caravan at 7:30 AM, heavily armed and armored. They were willing to ride with us and we shared food and time with them. It was @ 3 PM on Workmonth the 8th that we arrived @ Shakun. We went to the Sperthik Homestead and met with Master Sperthik. Some information was shared about his horse and we ended up giving him the 57 crowns the supposed wizard, Caleris, had paid for it (but not the blue topaz that Flimflam held on to). He thanked us (getting 3 times the value for his horse) and said he was taking his family soon and move to Orland. He asked us that if his daughter, Giselle, ever came and asked, we were NOT to tell her that they had gone to Orland.

Once in Shakun we split up and arranged new horses, wrote a number of missives to be sent via aviary – including reading one sent here from Fist’al’s family! They had said that they wanted the armor and would make an offer – but if Fist’al had a way to take it from the barbarians, that he should do so. The letter was critical of Baron Taugis and humankind in general and the party was aghast to read some of the things they were learning.

We also had conversation with Pelis, shared with him Fist’al’s duplicity and his hiring of Lashulak to throw us off the scent. The thief guild master was angry. He gave us a contact name in Elvenkeep to meet up with that should allow us some sort of passage into Woodhelven.

Finally we concluded our time in Shakun with the Baron and then by 4 PM, rode out and travelled east towards The Roaring Treant Inn and then Timberton beyond. We made it to the Treant @ 10 PM, the horses worn out and our own bodies tired. We slept soundly and were awake @ 6:30 AM. After breaking our fast, praying, and readying the horses – we were gone @ 7:45 AM, on Workmonth the 9th.

We rode up to Timberton by 5 PM and opted to ride on, eventually coming to a stop @ 8 PM – the horses once again beyond weary and the 6 of us ate a fast and cold meal of travel rations before crawling into our bedrolls and falling asleep. The only interest during the night were a family of 5 skunks that had taken an interest in our trash and Marcus hit them with a sleep spell and then dragged them elsewhere to avoid exposure to the party.

We awoke on Workmonth the 10th at 4:30 and prayed, broke our fast, and then rode onward. We hit Ferron by 1 PM and again decided to push the horses and keep going. We met up with a caravan by 6 PM and joined them, sharing once again what we had as well as 2 people for watch during the night. Camp was established @ 7 pm and the group settled down for sleep by 8.

On Workmonth the 11th @ 6 AM we awoke, bit the caravan a farewell, and rode on to Elvenkeep – pushing the horses once again. We knew that this was not going to be good for our steeds in the long run, but for now and the fact that we were trying to make it to our quarry before he was lost to us in Woodhelven it was an acceptable.

The miles passed and it was @ 1 PM that we arrived as the massive structure known as Elven Keep.

Huge 45’ seamless walls forged centuries ago by dwarven slaves before the Kinslayer Wars and Deepingdale Uprising, they encircled a tremendous area of land with many houses and structures both outside the outer walls as well as inside. Supposedly a garrison of over 1,200 warriors strong with about 1/4th of them elven, it sat large and imposing on the border of Woodhelven – offering a barrier to the elven lands, the settled East, and the frontier West.

Once here we made our way to the Temple of Poseidon, once of the larger main ones @ the Keep and met with the Patriarch. We explained who we were, what we were doing, and brought him up to speed on our seeking of Fist’al (he had already gotten our missive a few days ago and the word had gone out). The brothers and sisters of Poseidon were wroth @ Fist’al and wanted to bring him to justice sooner rather than later.

It was at this point that we asked about possible scrying for Fist’al and the patriarch agreed to do so for us. We were able to see Fist’al had achieved Woodhelven and was in some sort of scout training camp – talking to 9 or 10 other elves. He seemed well received and in good cheer. We were able to deduce there camp was a few miles past the Elvenkeep/Woodhelven gate and we would need to sneak in there somehow.

Sanric and Auri went to the Temple of Artemis to meet with the elven Melisander archer and priest – a very comely and charismatic person who within just a few minutes, had Auri panting in want. A deal was struck for a letter allowing them past the border (with Marcus as the focal personage) but it wouldn’t last for too long. During the forging of the document Sanric practiced archery with the Artemisian acolytes while Auri was bedded by the very attractive Melisander.

All that left in the plan was how to sneak Fist’al out (the church of Poseidon wanted some time with Fist’al for his slaying of one of their members and paladins). Flimflam was working on a trade with an alchemist loyal to Demeter for a polymorph potion where the imbiber would take on the form of a donkey for 1 hour.

At this point it was 3 PM on Workmonth the 11th and we wanted to get ourselves together and make the trip into Woodhelven and get Fist’al back – before ANYONE gets word to him that we were either following him – or this close.

Friday, March 7, 2014

Meet 57, Adv 3.5, 2/22/14

At this point, the character that is Fist'al is no longer being controlled by the original player and is now an NPC. However, before this happened, the player had given me some feedback on how he wanted Fist'al to escape and came up with a plan (rough form) to throw the party off his trail.

And it worked.

The group is now 4 days behind their quarry - in the wrong direction, and needs to race ahead of the clock and him if they are ever going to find him in time and bring him to justice.

Write up follows:

Workmonth the 6th, the group awoke and moved themselves around, shaking the dust off their rooms and opening windows. There was talk about spending 4 days or so working around town until the Appraisers showed up to value the elven chain and our other belongings and what we would have to do to ameliorate the situation between Fergus and Fist’al.

And speaking of Fergus, he still wasn’t down for breakfast yet. Flimflam wearily climbed to his feet and trudged up the stairs to knock on the paladin’s room. It was while he was just outside of it that he noticed Whosea had gotten quiet, the mastiff snarling at the closed portal, his hackles raised and ready. Unsure of opening the door, the gnome whispered to Marcus and Auri to give him a hand and they shoved the door aside.

Fergus Shelby O’Kain, Paladin of Poseidon, one of 5 in the entire kingdom. Was slain.

The paladin and our friend was on the ground, staring upwards with sightless eyes, a brutal hole in the middle of his muscular chest, blood soaking everything: mattress, blanket, pillow. The shutters were open and a warm breeze was playing on the cooling body. Nothing else in the room was missing.

We quickly convened and grabbed equipment while a few of us made an effort to find out what happened. We noted that Fist’al was not around and a couple of us went about, looking for our erstwhile elven companion – originally to get his help. But as his normal haunts and jaunts came up empty: Lirea, Pixie Down, Pelis, etc… we grew even more concerned as to where he was and WHAT might have happened. So we searched his room.

And noticed that every piece of his personal  belongings were gone.

At this point our thoughts shifted from, “We need everyone together to help solve this”, to “holy crap –one of our own for the last 5 months killed a paladin in his room late last night while he was sleeping”.

We convened at Pelis the Rugmerchants and while there, explaining what happened to the guild leader, he connected us to a bounty hunter of some renown: Sanric. Heavily tattooed, having some skill and capability, he heard of our plight and was willing to help out – collecting murderers was his specialty. The bounty was placed at 500 dead, 1000 alive, as per Baron Taugis and we rented horse and then headed westward towards Orland, following some clues that Pelis had given us based upon information he had overheard Fist’al talk about.

We had learned that no gate guard remembered Fist’al (or anyone) leaving that late, but a single horse had been stolen from the Sperthik Homestead early in the morning. So we went there and felt comfortable that what happened was Fist’al escaped through a rope tossed over the wall in Tanner’s Way, made his way to the Sperthik Homestead, one of the most western homesteads and we know had no guard dogs or support people, stole their singular nag, and rode west.

It was 10:30 AM when we took off and we rode as hard as we could, daring to push the horses when able too. The miles were left behind. We came upon a merchant bringing hay to Orland, two kids on top helping to hold the hay in place. He reported that hours earlier he had come upon a lone rider heavily cowled riding the same way, but otherwise no one else. Must have been Fist’al.

The night dropped and we rested, watching as little as possible to make sure the animals were not too winded and on the 7th of Workmonth, by 7 Am we were off, riding through the Orlandian Woods northward towards our location. Knowing bandits were normally in the area we kept a keen eye out but saw no one. Sanric and Geld helped us keep the animals in good shape and guided the weaker riders where necessary in order to get the best speed from our steeds.

It was 3 PM when we came upon Southtower, the gateway/watch tower on the way to Orland proper. We announced ourselves, our business, and asked the rider if there was anyone who had just come into town. We were assured so and directed to the Inn where we could make our attention known and capture/question the suspected Fist’al.

We rode in and hitched up our horses, entering the inn with care. Maybe half a dozen people, one of them heavily cowled and in the corner near the steps. A few VERY bedraggled whores were plying wares that no one wanted. We talked to the innkeep, watching the cowled figure carefully and upon mentioning Fist’al’s name and murder and paladin and bounty the man in question got up, went up the steps quickly, grabbed one of the whores and shut the door behind him – just a moment ahead of Sanric followed by the rest of us. Auri, after watching which room the figure went in to, went OUTSIDE the inn, watching the windows to make sure the figure didn’t try to escape this way.

We were convincing the hooker to open the door, while the other one was trying to alternately convince us to leave her alone and to come along with her for a good time. While this was going on Auri noticed the male figure inside open the window and make to escape that way – but on seeing the Amazonian Half-Orcish fighter, he turned tail and returned to the interior with a sheepish smile.

We finally made the woman and man inside open the door and pushed our way in. The man was named Lashulak, and was a young member in Pelis’ employ in Shakun. He had been given a job by Fist’al in which he had “to lead a bunch of fools the wrong way to Orland, lose them, and then return home” while the elf rode the other direction, hoping to make it to Elven Keep ASAP.

Fuck. We were duped.

We got the entire plan and the renting of a good riding horse earlier that day (by Lashulak) that had been hidden in an abandoned Homestead. The separation of Fist’al and Lashulak, riding opposite directions, and the eventual sending of 25 crowns as a note to the young man as final payment for his efforts.

Auri, able to speak Cant, was able to identify that Lashulak kept calling himself 17, and canted enough herself to make Lashulak trust us as members of the thieves guild – or at least affiliated with it.

So we thanked the Marshal @ Orland, commandeered Lashulak’s steed that he had taken from the Sperthik family, and rode out of Orland on our way back to Shakun. We plowed through the Orlandian Woods without real issue until we came upon a singular elderly gentleman. Wearing long robes, sporting a jaunty wizard’s hat, and carrying a 7’ staff gnarled and festooned with crystals he wanted to buy our lone horse, saying his feet hurt from the walking. We were going to say no but he pulled out a pocket of coins (57 of them) and a blue citrine worth another 50 crowns.

So we sold the man, named Caleris – a sage and seer from Brewer’s Bridge, the Sperthik horse and wished him well, moving on in our ride towards Shakun through the dark late summer night.