So the youths have a new campaign and during the weekend near my daughter’s 15th birthday, she asked me if we could have a longer than usual get together – 6 hours. The youths spent some time rolling up new characters while I explained some of the inherent differences between B/X and my own 1st/3.5 amalgamation.
For the youths I’ve rewound the rule set to be a bit more 1st edition heavy. Ability scores – right out of the 1st edition handbook, including percentile strength. Class skills – right out of the 1st edition handbook – as written, no power creep. As for everything else, 3.5 saves, BAB to hits (no THACO’s), skills and crafts, feats, and similar the like.
Since we are playing “for real”, I have planted them on my map and world in the Barony of Dilabria, the County of Reet, at the shores of the Mastelic Ocean and in a Norse inspired area. One member showed up late but we fast tracked him through character creation and the group ended up with:
Human Male Paladin to Tyr
Human Male Ranger to Loki (bounty hunter background)
Female Half High-Elf/Half Drow Cleric to Hel (product of drow raid, emphasis on necromancy)
Female Tallfellow Halfling Thief praying to Loki
Wove in the background and situated them in place. They are going to go through a skeletal framework of Saltmarsh that will deviate off the adventure’s rails in almost no time.
Write up follows:
Veldryn was born a bit over 3 centuries ago to a High Elven healer who had been the victim of a Drow raid near the city of Glowerspire. Upon her birth there was concern that the child would exhibit drow characteristics and although her hair was white and eyes red, her skin was as alabaster as any High elf’s could be.
The violence of her conception and the frenetic period of her birth had unhinged Veldryn’s mother’s mind and she was sent along with her daughter far to the north and east to live with a small commune of healers near the Elvenwoods, south of the Windy Peak Mountains. She grew up amongst dwarves, elves, and humans who treated the young girl with respect and a bit of pity with the crushing mental abuse her mother would often subject her daughter to. Her raping was mentioned often, and her distrust of people would make her become shrill and unapproachable often.
When the great Reetersbeard dwarven migration occurred, Veldryn’s mother moved her and her daughter to the healing houses of Huntington, “just for a change”. Then it was a move to Windressa 2 decades later, then Dragonhole after a few decades, then Bandit Hills, then Dilabria, and so on. Ever moving and taking her daughter with her regardless of the girls’ interests.
After they arrived in Karon, a small fishing village north of the Eider Down Fens, Veldryn, already approaching her 3rd century informed her mother that she would NOT be moving again and began to distance herself from her odd parent. She took to working with the healing houses on her own, helping to cure the sick and tend to the wounded. It was when a bad case of Redcough had swept the village and the plaguedoctors had finally made it to the fishing village to tend to the townsfolk that Veldryn’s life took a turn.
One of the plaguedoctors was a Speaker for the Dead, a skilled and capable priest of Hel who talked to Veldryn about her duties as a physiker, but also what position Hel has in the great scheme of things and how the passage of death isn’t to be feared, but to be spoken of. Discussed in such a way to remove the negative stigmata of death. Veldryn was hooked. She spent much time afterwards learning from the Speaker and others who would come and visit Karon, taking pilgrimages to Flat Rock to read the ancient texts and pray at the menhirs that depicted Goddess of Nifelheim.
And her piety paid off in time. Hel first started answering her prayers in small ways, globes of light in the dark, a comforting voice at night. Then her powers grew and the Speaker for the Dead ordained her as a follower of Hel and priestess with all the rights due to her. When her mother wanted to leave and head south to Eider or Principia, “just for a change” Veldryn, now a touched priestess, broke ties with her mother who screamed, shouted, and harangued her daughter; hurling her violent conception at the girl’s face before cursing her to “misery and ruin!” and leaving.
Veldryn was heartbroken but threw herself into her work and decided not to feel that weak ever again, taking up the mantle of warrior-priest of Hel and training herself in weaponry as well as her god’s wishes.
Magnus had lived his entire live in Karon and to him it was the center of everything. 516 people fishing and plying the ocean, trade caravans coming from far flung places; it was a place of honorable people doing honorable work. What was the most interesting to the young man were the knights who would pass through during the tournament season. Outfitted with steed and armor, gleaming spears in the sun, pennants and tabards in glorious color. The shining example of nobility and chivalry to all.
For Magnus though, a fast young man with deep chest and wide shoulders, he would spend his time at the militia and training yards, sharing his letters with the soldiers there and acting as a live training target for them during their sparring matches. He learned swiftly how to take a blow and how to dodge them. He grew to understand the basics of shield play, became cognizant in different weaponry, and could be trusted to be a gracious winner as well as loser in whatever bouts he fought in.
He struck up a friendship with the strange white-haired elven priestess, sharing her stories of Hel and her own life with his own interest in the other Norse gods especially Tyr, the one handed god of justice. They had an easy friendship that brought Magnus from the awkward teenaged years into his early 20’s with nary a hiccup.
Many a time Magnus would be joining Veldryn at the Hospice, tending to the wounded and the sick. Most everyone knew that young Magnus was a man to be trusted; a man who exemplified everything that he felt a knight should be regardless of his less than affluent background. But strange things began to happen when Magnus was about. Some young girl who had a terrible cough was much improved after Magnus had tended to her. Some days later while helping a physiker set a fisherman’s broken arm it was discovered the arm didn’t seem as bad off as originally expected. Then there was the aura of fearlessness that he exuded in addition to the sensation that people got of being at peace when in his presence.
It was the arrival about a year ago of a contingent of Tyrian holy men who traveled almost 2 weeks from Cymbarton to meet with Magnus that the truth was revealed. Magnus, for reasons only Tyr knew, was a selected champion of Tyr and a paladin. The news shocked the town of Karon who took the news well and shared it long and wide that one of their own, a fishing village on the back waters of the barony, had one of its very own as a paladin. He was invited to return to the Capital but Magnus demurred, saying that he could do more in Tyr’s name here that he could far from home.
So the friendship between the paladin of Tyr and the white necromancer of Hel might have seemed odd to others, but was natural to Magnus and Veldryn.
Deja was the 8th of 10 halfling children whose parents were jolly and well meaning merchants situated in Dilabria. While most of her brothers and sisters were happy to be a part of the Thistledown Merchant House, finding jobs and places within the organization, Deja was disillusioned. Smart, capable, dexterous, charming, she instead took to petty pilfering, games and dice, drink and weed; smoking often late and making friends in “low” places.
Her father tried, long and often, to redirect his unwilling daughter to better choices and honorable pursuits but it was difficult to rein her in. First it was money, then favors, then payoffs to the watch. It didn’t matter; Deja would do well, straighten out, and then fall off the wagon weeks or months later and need to be helped once again.
Deja had been running with a group of unguilded rogues and thieves on a number of jobs and petty thefts around Dilabria when her group was caught up by the Dragoons (County Guards and Rangers) and had to flee. She had been making her business to align her fortunes with the stronger and more capable fighters and scrappers, knowing her skills to martial matters were a bit lacking. But her companion was felled by a truncheon to the head and Deja barely escaped through an open street drain, the watch hot on her trail.
She had not only been caught red handed, but identified by name. Dilabria was no longer a home and she would have to flee and do it soon. Since her thieving had not landed here in a guild as of yet, she had no protection in that direction. And her father had flat out told her that if this happened again, she would go to stocks, jail, hard labor, or even the gibbet – he was done.
She dug herself out of the sewers, snuck into her family’s home, took what belongings she could as well as coins, and then fled out of Dilabria heading north on the back of a turnip wagon – her friends, family, and life behind her for now.
She ended up in Flat Rock where for a few days she worked at the local tavern sweeping floors and pilfering loose Bits and Commons when able to. She was miserable, unhappy, and alone. Her life was going to need to change and she needed a direction.
It was while she was here that a group of Umbarian Slavers had come in and strode right up to a travel worn ranger who was at a table near the fire, a man bound in manacles at his side. The slavers pointed to the bound man and demanded that he be released to their custody as he was an escaped slave from Principia.
The bounty hunter stood slowly, hand on the hilt of his dirk, and produced his papers to the angry slaver, attesting that he was well within his rights to apprehend this FUGITIVE and suspected murderer, returning his to Twark. At just under twenty, the bounty hunter whose name was Talion, would not back down; citing rule, cipher, and edict that his bounty was more legal than their questionable claim of escaped slave. If was a tense standoff and Deja decided there to lend her aid to Talion, sneaking up to the secondary slaver and placing her own poignard against the man’s spine causing him to stiffen with concern.
The slavers, seeing the mood of the tavern turning and the resolution of Talion, willingly stood down but the slaver gave Talion a piercing threat that he would rue this decision as some point in the future. They left and the mood lightened.
Deja and Talion greeted one another, shared a few pints, and by the night were fast friends. She left with Talion the next day on their way to Twark where he received his bounty and decided that they were going to lay low for a while. The slaver’s guild did not have much sway, but there were many of them and it was best to hide out for the time being than further antagonize them. They hopped on a caravan that headed off to Karon and decided it was a perfect place to set up home for the time being.
Talion wanted to keep his skills honed and often trained with the militia, befriending the town’s shining prodigal son, an honest to Loki paladin named Magnus. Within time, the ranger, paladin, cleric, and thief bonded together, performing small jobs for the Mayor and helping out the townsfolk where needed.
But Karon was a small pond and the four friends after six months decided they wanted to bite off something meatier. That was when some fishers and traders from down coast came with stories that the Council of Saltmarsh was looking for adventurers to help out with an important matter. The foursome discussed it and decided it was a worthy job. So they gathered their belongings, bid farewell to their friends and neighbors, and booked passage on the Jolly Frog as it was making the day and a half run south down the coast to Saltmarsh.
It was an uneventful trip and within time the sturdy sloop arrived at the seaside large town. Surrounded by the Eider Down Fen, the town itself was built on mounded up earth and raised wooden posts and walkways. A sturdy quay stuck out into the Mastelic Ocean taking up most of the shore line. Six different major docks were home to many smaller and larger boats. The shore was a mass of small rounded stones and broken shells.
Upon docking, they left the Jolly Frog and made their way to the town proper where they met the Wharf master Kurly Ludbrook, a stout dwarven male with a clipboard and clay plate. They spoke at length as to who they were (Kurly had heard of Magnus the Tryian paladin and was welcomed) and our interest in meeting with the council for some help.
We were directed to get a room at the Saucy Winter Wench, an Inn west of the docks just past the cooper, and as for the council, perhaps Sir Archibald Regurin would be the person to talk to; he had a Demesne on the south end of town. We thanked Kurly and strode the raised platforms of Saltmarsh. There were many warehouses and businesses about, and we could see that homes and apartments were situated above some of them.
The Saucy Winter Wench was a two story affair with a wraparound porch and the smell of ale was strong even out here. We entered; the Common Room was sizable, able to house a hundred, hundred and fifty with ease. Some women of ill repute were along the edges and a four count of wenches were plying the floor and tables. A set of stairs on the far end of the room went up to the second floor where a minstrel was strumming a lute. There was a hearth and fireplace and a long bar where two barkeeps were working the taps.
We made our way through and were directed to talk to the Inn keep in the back where we made our way through the throng. A heavy set brassy haired woman with questionable hygiene was here and with a guttural voice identified herself as Pettis. We bargained for a room, getting a larger one on the second floor with a bath. We also learned of a few traders we could go visit to get outfitted, taking Uri Rosensteel of Rosensteel’s Imported Goods as a place to go and visit.
We went to our room, had the page fill the tub for us, left some soap, noted where we would sleep and rest, and then locked up and took to the streets. Traveling south at the next block we went to Rosensteel’s and spend some time purchasing armor, arms, and some equipment for our hopefully soon to be adventure.
We left at 4:30 and continued south, climbing up the hill to a stately manor along the shore, overlooking the ocean. We were stopped at the gate and announced who we were, waited to get admitted, and then had an audience with Sir Archibald himself. At almost 60, he was one time a squire and knight, getting thick with years and good food. A landholder of some repute, there were 4 other council members and he would meet with them tomorrow to make sure we were accorded a charter.
There was a manor house some 4 miles south of town where a disgraced alchemist and wizard of some repute had lived 20 years ago. He had been working on an enslaving mind control potion when he had died with no heirs to speak of. His Esquire handled the ending of his affairs but the place had an evil reputation and those who would go there spoke of strange noises, lights, and terrors that would consume them. So the place was left alone; an eyesore some distance from Saltmarsh and forgotten by many.
But recently there have been more odd lights and a few who have dared to brave its grounds have left with strange screams chasing their running feet. The Council wants the matter resolved and the place investigated. We accepted the job, the promise of some payment in the future good enough for us for now.
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