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Phoenixguard09
2012-11-05, 02:38 AM
Hello Playgrounders,

EDIT* This post has been here so long, I figure by now I should update it. This thread details a few campaign logs set in the world of Norbayne using a homebrew system. It has long been a labour of love for both me and a handful of dedicated collaborators. At the time of writing this passage, we have been playing for almost five years, with admittedly sporadic hiatuses in between. Can't be helped, we're all pretty busy as a rule.

Please feel free to browse through our logs. I apologise in advance for the style and quality of writing in the early sessions, it has improved markedly since then. I could really use a proofreader actually, so if anyone wants to offer, that would be great. :smallbiggrin:

This first post is a navigational page if you will, with links to all the interesting things to be found in the thread. Sadly, I think the links won't work on smartphones and the like, which is a bit irritating. I don't know if that's just my phone or not. I have had to shift the character backgrounds from this post to a post a little further down the page due to word limits on forum posts.

You will also find that while Three Coins is the main body of this thread, several other campaigns are documented here too. Duke Dev has run two sessions of Whispers in the Dark and I have run a few sessions with single players like Ladyhawk's Into the Depths of the Rayncrann Forest and Scotticus' Pirates of Lemaria. While they do not link as such with Three Coins, they are in the same world and have a very similar style, so if you like Three Coins, you'll probably like them too.

So please, enjoy! :smallsmile:

EDIT* Table of Contents:
Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword
The Players and Characters of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=14203117&postcount=6)

Arc 1: The Ruins Outside Summer Hill
Session 1.1: A Beginning (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=14172681&postcount=2): In which we enter the year 1647CE in Norbayne, and are introduced to both the free township of Summer Hill and our intrepid heroes, who head out into the wilderness, get mauled by bear-wolves and are frightened by a shambling monster of myth and legend...
Session 1.2: Into the Darkness (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=14585595&postcount=17): In which our heroes bravely venture underground, Harold duels an old rival and not all is at it appears regarding their initial quest...
Session 1.3: Exploration in the Black Pit (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=14607585&postcount=25): In which our heroes find themselves taking on the tendrils of a most powerful foe...

Arc 2: Against the Lord of Winter
Session 2.1: Drunken Lullabies (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=14928860&postcount=34): In which Tremor Ironfist is introduced to our party of intrepid adventurers and much alcohol is consumed...
Session 2.2: The Lady in Red (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=15108428&postcount=44): In which our heroes venture forth once more, Harold and Tremor must deal with massive hangovers and the group gains an ally...
Session 2.3: And Now For Something Completely Different (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=15192427&postcount=58): In which Tremor is badly injured, a door is killed and a house ransacked...
Session 2.4: The Infamous Fireball (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=15318574&postcount=66): In which our heroes fight fire, set each other on fire and Harold engages in diplomatic discourse with a Naillish noble...
Session 2.5: Walking Away (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=15736652&postcount=74): In which our heroes regroup to determine their next plan, Tremor takes on a powerful warlock by himself and a twilight meeting turns sour...
Session 2.5 (a): Harold's Midnight Ride (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=16204036&postcount=84): In which Harold heads out to find Dhara, engages in conversations with her and is shot at...
Session 2.6: The Coming Metaphorical Storm (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=16209203&postcount=85): In which our heroes return to the scene of one of their crimes, Breanna proves her worth and Maebh gets angry...
Session 2.7: End of the Line (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=16397781&postcount=92): In which warehouses are ransacked, Tremor gets a crowning moment of awesome and the cult is finally taken down...

Arc 3: The Wolves of Dreven
Session 3.1: Fire, Smoke and Dwarven Catapults (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=16842885&postcount=99): In which our heroes make a daring escape from Summer Hill and find themselves in Dreven, a small village in northern Naille...
Session 3.2: Sleepless Nights and Undead Wolves (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17338048&postcount=107): In which our heroes find themselves under siege by a pack of ravenous beasts...
Session 3.3: The Lair of the Wolf King (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17670467&postcount=120): In which our heroes head to the Blackfort to take on the Wolf King on his own ground...
Session 3.4: The Danann Pack (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18107797&postcount=135): In which our heroes are joined by Therressa Bannimagen, leave the Blackfort and return triumphantly to Dreven, but must contend with a new threat...

Interlude 3.5: New Beginnings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18625049&postcount=145): In which our heroes leave the relative safety of Dreven, farewelling the continent of Norbayne, to embark on a voyage north, to rescue a fair dwarven damsel...

Arc 4: Finding the Resistance
Session 4.1: Over The Cold Northern Sea (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18927386&postcount=147): In which our heroes leave Norbayne behind and travel to the northern continent of Unterguardt in order to save Tremor's sister from her arranged marriage...
Session 4.2: Dark Places and Reality Hopping (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19149498&postcount=158): In which our heroes hunt down the murderer preying upon the women of Urik's Landing, turn their attentions towards chasing a mysterious predator and fight a vicious turnip...
Session 4.3: Ambushes and Treachery: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19467408&postcount=161) In which our heroes venture north by river, then journey through the mountains, fight yet another undead king and meet the Mountain Finches...
Session 4.4 (a): When the Bat-**** Insanity Hits the Fan: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19631657&postcount=165) In which Aeva of the Aett'kviss Nordur-Vatn is introduced to the party, Tremor puts forward his claim to the throne of Nordtarnet and The Crag is taken thanks to copious amounts of guano...
Session 4.4 (b): Flying Shadows and a Night of Knives: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19697935&postcount=169) In which Aeva and Breanna give a tag-team performance worthy of the ages, Maebh lights up a forest and Valewatch is taken by the Resistance...
Session 4.5: Of Bastardry: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20360788&postcount=175) In which assassins attack Tremor, some dangerous truths are revealed and the companions position grows more and more tenuous...

Interlude 4.6: Onwards to Varr: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20418423&postcount=177) In which our heroes bravely run away from Last Redoubt, we say farewell to both the continent of Unterguardt and Tremor Ironfist, and Harold Oakenshield is called home...

Arc 5: The Greyflood Prophecy Revealed
Session 5.1 (a): A Matter of Prophecy: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20860882&postcount=178) In which our heroes reach Isenhjem, witness an assassination and prepare to undertake a journey to Stillhet, or Serenity, an abandoned asylum on the northern-most coast of Varr...
Session 5.1 (b): Shades of the Past: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21095847&postcount=180) In which our heroes find that Serenity has a very dark past and the present is not all that rosy either...
Session 5.2: Of Haunted Mansions and Poor Decisions: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21298115&postcount=182) In which our heroes are beset by a great number of foes, peril is faced and Harold finally faces off against Ovar Windchaser...
Session 5.3 (a): You Were Right, Werencha Baby?: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21403707&postcount=185) In which our heroes delve into the depths of a lost and sunken temple to retrieve the Gilded Sword and we are introduced to Xander Wrothgar...
Session 5.3 (b): Our Goal Has Been Reached: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21407219&postcount=187) In which our heroes conclude their travails through the waterlogged temple of Werencha, face yet more horrific foes and finally reach their goal...
Session 5.4: The Vaults of Ravnsalm: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21490315&postcount=190) In which our heroes head back to Ravnsalm to discuss matters with Helga Oakenshield, pick up some nice new gear and put an end to some bandit activity...

Arc 6: Wanderers of Many Lands
Session 6.1: How to Disappoint a Farmhouse and Alienate People: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21566655&postcount=193) In which our heroes embark on the search for Aeva's family, leaving Varr to return to southern Unterguardt, discover evidence of yet another cult and almost kill Xander, but its okay, because he asked them to...
Session 6.2: There and Back Again: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21640438&postcount=195) In which our heroes discover a horrible presence in the Southreach keep, the endgame is revealed, we get a happy ending and farewell one of the companions...
Session 6.3: Three Coins, No Birds and Two Gilded Swords: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22071524&postcount=197) In which our heroes finally return to Summer Hill, almost three years since they left, are surprised by what they find there and must contend against the new lord of the town. Also, Xander tanks everything again...

Arc 7: The Final Battle
Session 7.1: Ambush on the Road: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23455752&postcount=201) In which the shadows of the past strike once more, Maebh and Breanna come face to face with the consequences of decisions made and Harold pulls off one of the most metal stunts ever...
Session 7.2: Harvest Moon Rising: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=24056996&postcount=211) In which our heroes meet the young king of Naille, infiltrate Elspeth City itself and witness the rise of the Harvest Moon...
Session 7.3: Endgame: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=24252080&postcount=213) In which the Devourer is faced and our journey finally comes to an end. Of sorts...
Session 7.4: We Bid You All a Very Fond Farewell: (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=24395782&postcount=215) In which we finally farewell all of the companions and learn what happens to them and their world after the events in western Elspeth in the year 1650CE...

Additional Content:
The Great Maw (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?512461-The-Great-Maw-A-Norbayne-Campaign-Log)
This is a link to our episodic campaign set in the same world as Three Coins, which has just finished Season 1. There are 8 episodes posted as of the time of writing, but I am approximately 5 sessions behind on the write-ups. Please, enjoy.

Travellers in the Snow
Session 1.1: Caves and Conundrums (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17367014&postcount=113): In which Therressa Bannimagen is introduced in the northern village of Snowshard, a mountain is scaled and a degenerate tribe of cave-dwellers are found and fought...

Pirates of Lemaria
Session 1.1: The Sparrow on the Ocean (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/topic/10124466/1/#new): In which Martialis Ironlaw is introduced onboard the Sparrow, a merchant vessel heading home through the Lemarian archipelago. A storm is weathered, pirates are fought and an untamed land is reached...
Session 1.2: Who Rescues the Rescue Party? (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/single/?p=8224504&t=10124466): In which Martialis Ironlaw must brave the temple city of the polud-malpa to rescue his missing crew members...
Session 1.3: The Sparrow Gets Her Wings Back (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/single/?p=8261120&t=10124466): In which Martialis Ironlaw arrives in the town of Bina and must contend with both his own crewmates and the town guard...

Into The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest
Into The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest: Introduction (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19669196&postcount=168)
Session 1.1: A Doe Comes to Rosehollow (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19706732&postcount=171): In which we are introduced to Lily Roisin and Pixy, and we discover a great threat to the woods around Rosehollow...

Artwork and Character Sheets:
A group photograph, fanart of Maebh and Therressa and the official Order of the Murder-Hobo artwork. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17320796&postcount=106)
Maps, fanart of Harold and the original Order of the Murder-Hobo artwork. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17715786&postcount=126)
The character sheets of each of the members of the Order of the Murder-Hobo as of Session 4.4. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=19476900&postcount=163)
Official Norbayne landscape paintings. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18713848&postcount=146)
Fanart of Harold and Kel'Serrar. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18994334&postcount=149)

The System and the World

A basic overview for those who are interested. Norbayne itself is a continent roughly the size of Australia which rests more or less in the centre of the "known world." It is heavily forested, most of it reminiscent of the common perception of medieval Europe.

Here is a link to where Norbayne has chiefly been created. (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/forum/3847483/)

There you will find basic descriptions of the denizens of Norbayne and the surrounding lands, a brief history and more which is constantly being added to.

The system itself is based around the use of the D10 and by extension, the D100. The aforementioned link has details on stat-lines and other crunch-y aspects.

I should probably mention that the whole thing is still a work in progress and that contributions are eagerly accepted, so please keep that in mind while reading. :smallwink:

So there is the prelude. Now for the session itself. Back soon my friends.

Phoenixguard09
2012-11-05, 04:26 AM
Session 1.1: A Beginning

Let us begin.

Summer Hill is a bustling little community, the little wooden houses and stout palisade perched atop the hill which gives the town its name. The majority of the people are Midlanders which fits the location, deep within the Norbayne forests.

Summer Hill is built pretty similarly to Edoras from Lord of the Rings. The architecture is similar, just without all the horse motifs.

Summer Hill is in an interesting location, sitting astride the borders of Elspeth and Naille, independent of both, or at least for now. The Queen of Elspeth has long wanted to claim Summer Hill and its illustrious Weaver’s Guild for her own, but ever the King of Naille has refused her, not allowing the little town to lose its independence. However, the Naillish King died, just a fortnight past and Elspeth is looking to expand once more while their neighbour is weak and divided.

On a smaller scale however, not all is well in Summer Hill. A complex of ruins was found by a group of children just over a week ago, an underground labyrinth from the times before the ancient Bovus Empire. They brought back tales of unearthly shrieks and moans from deep underground and shadows which darted just on the edge of vision. Some men from the outlying hamlets gathered to explore the ruins to ensure that they were safe, but have not been seen since.

Summer Hill is in need of heroes.

Luckily, would-be heroes are to be found, or at least those who would attempt to be heroes through the promise of gold.
So it is that Harold Oakenshield, Maebh Raven-Wing, Breanna Blackrose and Kel’Serrar of the Danann find themselves fighting side by side for the fate of Summer Hill and the future of those who call it home.

I was constantly interrupted during this intro by various players, Dev most of all who seemed eager to show off.
"What would you do without me?" - Dev, questioning the vaguely annoyed GM.
"Well I probably would have finished this intro ages ago." - the cutting response.


The various characters have all come to Summer Hill to spend a little bit of time. Most of them are actually on their separate ways to other places, with the exception of Breanna who is simply looking for a place to hide. Harold is just resting cause he’s an inveterate wanderer, Maebh is running from her past and Kel’Serrar is hiding for now, but he does wish to move on.

One by one, the characters are approached by the merchant, Petyr Rangard, a short, slight, well-dressed man with a trimmed, pointed beard and short, dark hair. He’s wearing burgundy robes with gold embroidery and a long knife on his belt. The characters know he is a powerful merchant in both Summer Hill and the surrounding kingdoms. Rangard proposes a meeting behind the Inn of the White Stallion at midnight, promising an interesting conversation and a proposal which would be well worth the characters’ while.

“Sounds interesting. I’ll be there, simply because I like money." - Harold Oakenshield, Invarrian wanderer and old-dog.
“I’d just laugh. *laughter*" - Breanna Blackrose, Leathe assassin. We just assumed that laughter equated to yes.
"If you’re up for it, I’ll show up but you’re buying.” - Kel'Serrar, Danann archer, ever ready to swindle potential employers out of money.
“I’ll be there.” - Maebh Raven-Wing, Danann mage.

This was just my way of giving the players a bit of a smooth transition from GM monologue into actually directing the game as players. I'll admit, I was hoping for a bit more in-character interaction with Rangard, but this wasn't too bad.

They agree seperately to meet him and therefore arrive at midnight, meeting each other for the first time.
Rangard is standing in the middle of a darkened courtyard, leaning against an old fountain and waiting for everyone to arrive.
*burp*
“Harold has arrived." Cue Jack Sparrow jokes.
“I’m guessing we’re waiting for someone else?” - Harold asks of the merchant.
"Yes, we shall wait for everyone to arrive and then all will be revealed." - Rangard, quietly whilst scanning the shadows for signs of movement.

Eventually the four potential adventurers show up and Rangard begins.

“I have summoned you here to help me protect the interests of Summer Hill. As you know, I am the most successful merchant in these lands and am well in pocket. Therefore, I assure you, you will be compensated fairly for your time and efforts.

I do not know if you have heard of the recent developments just over a day’s travel to the north? A group of children found an underground complex of some description, ruined and, supposedly abandoned. A group of men from Summer Hill itself set out to explore the ruins for themselves. They have not returned and have been missing for over a week.

I wish to enlist a group to find out what happened to those men. I ensure you that you will be paid. Handsomely.” - Rangard, with a smile, jingling a coin purse temptingly in his right hand. His left, you notice, does not stray far from the hilt of his knife.

“Never trust a guy in robes, they look silly.” - Breanna, muttering to herself.

Meanwhile, Kel'Serrar considers the opportunity.
"We’ve got an old man to use as bait and food to have on the way.” - Kel'Serrar, starting the "baiting" of Harold and describing the Leathe assassin as food.
"AWWW!" - Breanna, unhappy at the thought of being eaten.
“I’d agree with you there.” - Maebh, happy at the thought of eating the Leathe.
“AWWWWW!” - Breanna doubly unhappy at the thought of being eaten.

Some OOC discussion about respective speeds as the group tries to figure out if Breanna could escape from the two lanky Danann if they get peckish.


“So, provided you agree to my little business venture, who shall be the leader of this company?” – Rangard
"The old guy." - Breanna pointing at Harold.
"Why not?" - Harold, smiling because he got precisely what he wanted.

Rangard hands over forty sulvers to be split amongst the party, along with an envelope, sealed with the crest of a coiled serpent.
“This letter is to be given to anyone you find from the group which Summer Hill sent out. Consider it proof that you are on the same side.

Now I suggest that you leave some time tomorrow. I do not know if there are any who might be interested in your comings and goings, but you might keep that in mind. Now goodbye, and remember, I’ll pay you well. Very well indeed.” – Petyr Rangard, leaving the party with an almost mocking bow.

It is almost midnight and the group decides to split up and enjoy their last night in the township. Harold goes to find rum despite the time. Breanna hangs around in the courtyard, trying to avoid the Danann. Kel'Serrar climbs a tree in the courtyard to sleep in it as he is on the run and does not wish for anyone to know his location. Maebh finds a tavern room and locks EVERYTHING as she is extremely paranoid.
Harold enters the inn, buys a pint of rum and drinks it. He is barely effected.
Breanna meanwhile waits for the Danann to go away, then climbs a tree herself and goes to sleep.
Harold has another pint of rum and then curls up in a chair at the tavern’s hearth.

"You’re covered in alcohol, the worst that could happen is when you’re set on fire." - Sins


They all wake up in the morning in separate places. Breanna and Kel’Serrar wake in their respective trees. Kel'Serrar leaves to go and avail himself of some arrows.
As I said at the time, this is probably the first time I have ever had to state that in a game I have run. There's a first time for everything.
Harold wishes to buy himself a bottle of rum and does so. After this, he arrives in the courtyard hoping that the others will get the idea that it is to be considered a rendezvous, seeing as no one thought to organise a meeting place the previous night. He sees Breanna who is already there. Maebh is also there hiding in the corner of the courtyard, avoiding attention. Kel’Serrar finally arrives after purchasing said arrows. Harold then takes charge.
“Shall we... um.. go.. to.... the ruin things? Maybe? - Harold, being wonderfully commanding

The group as a whole set out from Summer Hill at mid-morning, hoping that their departure might be sort of surreptitious.

Travel on the road is more or less uneventful for several hours, the group striding north in a more or less companionable silence. The Danann pass their respective Survival Checks and see the tracks of deer and woodwolves along the road.
Kel’Serrar also passes a Perception Check after about three hours travel and notices a path off the side of the road, one which appears to have recently been smashed through the undergrowth.

The whole party follows Harold with weapons ready, arguing about the order. Eventually it is Harold in the front with Breanna flanking him and Kel’Serrar and Maebh following at a safe distance. The path turns up an overturned carriage and two horse corpses which have been ripped apart, likely by a marcwolf.

Harold inspects the carriage and finds a small girl, dead and rotting, clad in finery. Her features however are unrecognisable due to the elements and scavengers. The Danann joke that there appears to be breakfast.
Kel’Serrar passes a Heal Check and can see that her legs were shattered.
Maebh passes her Survival Check and sees marcwolf tracks heading into the forest. The party decides to follow it. Breanna passes an untrained Survival Check to follow the tracks.

Breanna and Harold pass their follow-up Survival Checks to follow the tracks through the green woodland.
The party find eventually themselves at a natural cave made out of a hollowed out rock formation. There is a marcwolf sleeping outside.
“Oh it’s pretty!” Maebh, on the marcwolf (http://retrieverman.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/amphicyon.jpg).
It is suggested that Harold should try talking to it.
Harold might be the leader of the party, but the rest of them all seem to refer to him as "Bait."
“I can’t talk to it. And if you call me Bait one more time I will stab you.” - Harold, getting peeved, and not for the first nor last time that night.

Breanna meanwhile is off in her own little world.
“Hush little bear-wolf, don’t say a word...” - Breanna in sing-song.
She’s a nut.

Harold decides to attack it with Breanna's support. Unbeknownst to him, she decides to leave him to his fate. As they were taking so long to come to a decision, the decision was eventually made for them. The marcwolf wakes up. And sees all of them. And let’s out a low growl. And another one comes out of the cave.

Now joined by its mate, the marcwolf charges at the foremost figure of the company, Harold Oakenshield. The male attacks him as Kel'Serrar looses an arrow at the female. Still drowsy, she registers the hit and the pain it causes. This only serves to make her angry, instinctively knowing that the Danann ranger was responsible. However, to get at the ranger, she must first go through Breanna. It attacks her and hits with a single claw attack. Breanna fails her Dodge Check and takes a raking blow from the claws across her right thigh.
“Aww, that’s my favourite leg.” - Breanna, still able to make witty quips with blood spurting periodically out of her leg.
Seeing the danger, Maebh succeeds in casting Flare. The magical fire blasts a chunk out of the female and sets the beast on fire. Breanna hobbles away in the confusion, attempting to hide behind Kel'Serrar, despite her previous fear that he would eat her. She justifies it by pointing out that he's got problems to deal with and that being eaten yourself tends to make one less hungry.

After getting away completely unscathed by the male's furious assault, Harold attempts to strike back with sword and axe.
"It's a D100." - Me
*Rolls*
"Uh.... That's my ten." - Dev.
"That's a 99.... It doesn't matter which is your ten, that's a horrible strike." - Me
“You gave it your best shot.” - Ladyhawk
“Yeah.” - Dev
“Too bad it was a horrible one.” - Ladyhawk
At this point we had an intermission for food.


I know not the word limit for posts so I shall cut the session here. In the words of King Theoden Ednew, more will come in the very next post. :smallbiggrin: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14172738&postcount=3).

Phoenixguard09
2012-11-05, 04:54 AM
Upon the return to the game, we jump straight back into the fray. The male misses completely when attacking Harold. There is much laughter as everyone at the table attempts to re-enact it.

Kel’Serrar is attacked by the flaming female and Breanna hides behind Maebh this time, seeing that her erstwhile shield is about to be mauled.

Kel’Serrar hits the female, shooting her in the chest and hurting her badly. The female ignores the flames burning her and proceeds to smash a paw into Kel’Serrar’s head, stunning him. The stun quickly became unconsciousness.

Maebh succeeds in casting Flare again and blasts another chunk out of the female.
“There won’t be any chunks left!” - Breanna, in one of the most underrated one-liners of the night.
Breanna continues hiding behind Maebh.
Harold hits the male with his cutlass and removes its left foreleg with much blood and furious hacking. Harold proceeds to kill the male by removing both its forelegs and letting it bleed out on the ground. The female is badly hurt and, seeing her mate fall, begins howling and trying to maul Kel’Serrar. In her rage, she manages to miss every time. Maebh kills her with another Flare.

Breanna’s bleeding to death from her leg and Kel’Serrar is stunned to hell and back. Maebh and Harold are untouched. To top it all off, Kel’Serrar was the only one who took Heal. So I gave them a level as the fight was fairly tough and I would like to make them vaguely competent before they reach the ruins.

Inside the cave the marcwolves were using, the party hears squeaking and mewling. A small investigation reveals two small marcwolf cub-pups.
"Dibs!" - Harold
Harold and Breanna grab the little cub-pups. It is three in the afternoon, and two of the group are injured. One is bleeding profusely and the other is not really moving.
"Can I give it a shot?" - Harold, on bandaging Breanna
Harold fails. Maebh fails too. The first hour passes with the two of them failing horribly at bandaging, while Kel'Serrar writhes in unconscious, marcwolf-induced sleep.
Breanna gets to the point where she feels she needs to bandage her own leg. She succeeds. Kel'Serrar wakes up not long after.
They decide to stay in the cave, despite the smell. Kel'Serrar volunteers to take first watch in the face of Harold's... inefficient leadership. Harold puts Breanna on the first three hour shift because she insults him.
Maebh suggests eating the marcwolf corpses. Breanna decides to hobble outside and cut down some wood with a carving knife.
Lots of worry about Harold being a potential cannibal. Maebh just eats the marcwolf flesh, butchering the two adults.
"It's not that close to a dog. It's more like a bear." - Me, having planned on introducing a quandry about the morality of canibalism, yet not expecting it from this particular angle.
"Oh... ok." - Harold, deciding that even that is a bit closer than he would like.

A fire is lit and night falls swiftly, blanketing the lanscape in a shadowy cloak. During his watch, Kel'Serrar notices movement in the trees, what seems to be humanoid figures in the darkness. He awakens Breanna with a sharp whack to the head. Swiftly, he awakens the other two, except Maebh doesn't get a whack. They swiftly devise a plan to minimise the danger, with Kel'Serrar heading into the woods next to the cave. Breanna is to stay with Maebh in the cave. After deciding this, Harold draws his sabre, dulls the blade with ash and dirt and walks out of the cave confidently.

"Who's there!?" - Harold, striding towards the interlopers
"Oh you..." - Maebh, exasperated.
Harold is answered swiftly by two arrows flying towards him from out of the darkness, each of them whistling on either side of him. In return, Maebh throws off a Flare, hitting one of the swordsmen and setting him aflame. Breanna hobbles stealthily out of the cave to go support Harold, but she falls over and has to resort to crawling. Kel'Serrar shoots at one of the archers, hitting him in the throat. Harold then taunts one of the remaining two swordsmen charging at him.
"You pansy-ass bitch, come fight me!" - Harold, directing his insult at the swordsman leading the charge
The brigand roars in rage and attempts to slam into Harold, but the old duellist skillfully evades his blows. The other swordsman makes for Maebh, having not seen the ranger or the assassin yet, both of whom are cloaked in the night's darkness.
The man on fire tries to put himself out but is unable to do so.
The archer who lives tries to shoot Maebh, the mage's fires startling him into rushing his shot. He misses in his haste.

Maebh fires off another Flare, setting her new target on fire. The swordsman running towards her is now on fire, running past Breanna who still hasn't been noticed. Rising from the ground, she fails her optimised Sneak Attack.
Kel'Serrar shoots at the other archer in the treeline, but misses, losing his arrow.
Despite his best efforts, Harold misses in combat, and regretfully looks back on not taking Talents which would help to kill stuff.

The taunted swordsman attempts to hit Harold and is parried easily by the old dog-man. The flaming swordsman attempts to hit Breanna, but fails in the darkness. The archer again fails to hit Maebh.

Maebh throws off another Flare at the archer and finally does some decent damage, setting the brigand on fire and blowing a fist sized chunk out of his torso.
Breanna considers hobbling away or trying to hit the man attacking her.
"This is what happens when we don't have a tank." - Sins, reminiscing on how the party handles their encounters.
Breanna finally attempts to hurt the guy, but in somewhat of a recurring theme, fails to hit him.
Kel'Serrar hits the swordsman attacking Breanna, killing him with an arrow to the back of the neck.
"We are owning!" - Ladyhawk, on the party's abilities
Harold makes a called strike to the brigand's neck, missing. The swordsman strikes back, fails, and now is very worried, trying to back off seeing as all of his friends have just died over the course of the last minute or so.

"Harold, can you move?" - Maebh
"No, I want to kill him myself!" - Harold
".... You're an arse!" - Maebh
Breanna hobbles back into the cave after deciding that Harold will probably handle the guy by himself, and that she has better things to do than risk her life for the Invarrian. Kel'Serrar fires into the melee, missing both combatants, much to Harold's relief. Just as Harold begins his strike, the brigand falls to his knees, throwing his sword to the ground. Harold's cutlass passes just over the man's head, missing by a hair's breadth.
"I yield, I yield!" - Brigand, fearful for his life
"Off with his head!" - Breanna, bloodthirsty
"Is he human?" - Maebh, always with an agenda
"Yes." - Me, wondering where this is going
"Can I keep it?" - Maebh
"Do you have any rope?" - Harold, channelling Eddie Izzard
"You all neglected to buy rope..." - Me, delighting in reminding them of their foolishness
"I'll knock it over the head. I want it." - Maebh, delighting in reminding us that Danann are not your normal elves.
"Off with his head I say!" - Breanna, still bloodthirsty
"Big thing here, my choice." - Harold, attempting to impose his authority
"No it's not your choice!" - Breanna, enjoying this far too much

I decide that I must point something out.
"Yes it might be your choice, but the fact is, if Breanna decides she wants to kill him... Well, you might say, "We're keeping him as a prisoner," and then you turn your back and she goes, "HAHA STABBY STABBY!"
There is laughter before the game resumes.


Maebh wonders about the food situation.
"That's ok, there's a bunch of guys we've killed. Breakfast!" - Kel'Serrar, unrepentently cheerful

With his cutlass, Harold walks up to the man.
"By the rights of combat, you are my prisoner." - Harold, before punching the kneeling man in the face with the hilt of the sword, ripping open his cheek on his teeth, knocking out a handful, probably breaking his nose, but not knocking him out.
"Well that's incapacitated him at least." - Harold, surveying his handiwork
"Yeah, he's on his hands and knees, really regretting yielding at the moment." - Me
Harold beats the prisoner around the head with the flat of his sword, causing internal bleeding in his ear, giving him a splitting headache, but still not knocking him out.
"Before you bash it any further, can I have it?" - Maebh
"Yeah... Why not?" - Harold
"And when she gets bored with him, cut off his head and give it to our puppies?" - Breanna
"NO!" - Harold

The intrepid group has just been attacke by a small group of bandits. They managed to see the brigands off with little to no difficulty, killing them all in a matter of minutes, save for one man whom Harold has taken prisoner. Now, sadly eprived of rope, they debate what to do with him.

"Does anyone have Intimidate?" - Me, trying to give them an out.
"No." - Everyone.
"I was going to, but then I didn't, because who would be scared of a possum?" - LD, elaborating on her choice.
"No I took Charm instead." - Dev
"Oh you're really showing that now." - Sins, cracking us all up.

"Oh, I'm gonna use Charm."
"How are you going to do that?"
"I'm gonna punch him in the face. LIKE ME OR ELSE!"

They decide that Maebh can have him as a sacrifice. Kel'Serrar attempts to patch him up so that Maebh can go through with it. After all, sacrifices have to be in good shape, otherwise they're not worthy. But he fails. Hence jokes about bandages made of poison sumac. The whole group decides to give it a shot, but they all fail eventually.

"Let me just get this straight. I'm going to try and bandage his ears and mouth, Breanna's put one across his head, Maebh's cauterised the wounds by setting him on fire and Harold.... Well Harold probably punched him again." - Sins, analysing the situation.
*whack* "HEAL! *whack* - Ladyhawk, demonstrating Harold's effective healing techniques.


They eventually decide that it's not worth trying to bandage him anymore. As they have no rope, Maebh watches over him while Harold watches the outside, despite Maebh being able to see in the dark. Because Harold's too stubborn to admit a potential mistake. Breanna and Kel'Serrar, being the two who have been on watch already this night, go to sleep.

The brigand manages to talk through the bandages stuffed in his mouth.
"Do you want to know why we were here?" - Brigand, muffled by bandages, trying to barter for his life.
Maebh nods.
"We were hired to waylay travellers on their way to Summer Hill." - Brigand, still worried about the length of his life.

Conveniently for the party, he was the leader of the band. This was something which was pure coincidence. The man Harold Taunted was the leader the whole time, as denoted by the fact that he was leading the charge. So this isn't a case of GM fiat.

"What aren't you telling me?" - Maebh, questioning as her curiosity is roused.

He's very scared of the mage, who succeeds in the Intimidation check, despite her not having the skill. Being able to hurl balls of fire at people tends to have that effect. He tells her they were contracted by the Queen of Elspeth, and hands her a note which was secreted upon his person.

"What are you two talking about back there?" - Harold, forgoing his sentry duties to discover why Maebh is fraternising with the enemy.
Maebh hands him the note.

A group has set out from Summer Hill. They intend to visit the ruins.
See to it they don’t get there.
The Shadow,


"Good work. We'll sort this out in the morning."- Harold after reading the note.

"Who is the Shadow?" - Maebh, whispering as Harold returns to the mouth of the cave.
"I cannot say.... the camp is a day's travel to the east." - Brigand, desperately trying to seem helpful.

Wanting to avoid as much trouble during the night as she can, Maebh tries to Intimidate him into attempting to go to sleep. She passes with flying colours and the brigand rolls up and immediately attempts to do as she told him.

Harold and Maebh fall asleep during the early morning. Kel'Serrar and Breanna wake at about seven in the morning to find Maebh, Harold and the brigand asleep. Kel'Serrar kicks "Bait" while Breanna refuses to awaken Maebh on account of potentially being eaten by an angry mage.

"What are you going to do with me?" - Brigand, awoken by the sounds of movement in the cave.
"Lop off his head!" - Breanna, whose bloodlust has not dulled over night.
"We haven't had breakfast yet." - Kel'Serrar, always has his mind on the most important topics.
"You got to remember you've got your little marcwolf pups." - Me, attempting to let them know that the marcwolves will need to be fed.
"No! He's mine! I'm going to feed my marcwolf." - Harold, mistaking me and thinking that I was suggesting the party eat the cub-pups.
"You've got people so you can give him a taste for human flesh, or... his parents." - Me, letting Dev know his options.

Don't you love moral dilemmas like this?


"I'm not going to give him a taste for human flesh, just yet." - Harold, not letting practicality get in the way of squickiness.
"So you're going to... feed him his parents?" - Maebh, pointing out the alternative.
"You could voluntarily cut off a bit of your calf." - Breanna, always helpful
"Or we could kill a possum..." - Maebh, dark and foreboding....
"Nooo! What is WRONG with you!? Why do you all hate me?" - Breanna, realising her mouth will get her in trouble one day.

Alternatively, someone could go hunting...

Of course, the two who are capable of hunting really couldn't care less until Harold strikes a deal with Maebh, giving her three sulvers in exchange for her efforts.

All of Maebh's misadventures will be documented here for continuity.
She succeeds in finding possum tracks despite the difficulty.
"That's me, the guilty party!" - LD
She finds what appears to be possum type creatures living in colonies in the trees.
"I breed quickly." - LD
She may have possibly gone just a little too far there....
My sister is 12.
Maebh hurls her spear at one of them, missing it, startling it and losing her spear, which she eventually finds in the undergrowth.
The unsuccessful comes across deer tracks after some searching, once again passing her Survival Check. She also misses the deer when she throws her spear, startling it and causing to run in panic.
"I'm just going to throw fire at the next one." - Maebh, exasperated.
She decides to follow the deer she startled, attempting to catch up with it.

Harold goes to the bandit and tries to "Charm" him into telling them more. Harold decides to try and Intimidate instead, but the bandit doesn't know any more.
Kel'Serrar doesn't do anything other than chuckling to himself in the corner of the cave, laughing at Harold's continued attempts to intimidate the prisoner.
"Would you like to try and bandage him up some more?" - Harold to Kel'Serrar.
"Do you want me to stuff more bandages in his face?" - Kel'Serrar, efficiently describing the healing process.
Harold and Kel'Serrar decide to try and "heal" him together. Harold effectively stands over the ranger's shoulder, sprouting helpful phrases like, "I think you should connect that bandage with that one over there."

"What are we using for bandages?" - Sins, in an attack of logic.
"Basically, this is you guys tearing your clothes apart." - Me, thinking quickly.
"Now we have no clothes. No wait, I have clothes. You guys don't." - Ladyhawk.
More jokes about bandages made of poison sumac.

Breanna - "I'm going to go gather fruit and... pickpocket some possums."
"As if we couldn't sink any lower." - Sins, amidst laughter.
Breanna's still off looking for berries. She eventually succeeds, now deciding that "pickpocketing trees" is far more effective.

Amazingly, Harold and Kel'Serrar finally manage to fix up the brigand's bandages. And what's left of his face. Just in time for Breanna's triumphant return with various pilfered fruits of the forest.

"I think I'm going to go have breakfast. I think there's still some marcwolf left." - Kel'Serrar, leaving his handiwork and seeing to his own sustenance.
There is plenty of marcwolf left. Alternatively there are people.

Maebh meanwhile is still chasing the deer. She is keeping up with it, but it's proving difficult to catch.

Harold considers sending Kel'Serrar out to look for the mage, but reconsiders after being reminded that she's only been an out for about an hour.
"Right then, Kezaar, or whatever your name is..." - Harold to the Danann ranger.
"Kel'Serrar." - Ladyhawk, ever helpful. She had everyone's names written phonetically at the bottom of her sheet. Kel'Serrar for instance as Kell-Sore-Arrrr. Works well enough.
"Right, you. Do you want to scout ahead and look for this bloody route?" - Harold, wanting to get on with the mission.
"Eh... Not really." - Kel'Serrar (Kezaar), happy enough to sit around eating marcwolf.
".... Right." - Harold, realising that being the leader is tough when the rest of the group has no respect for authority.
"Let's head back to the road then. You're stronger so you can carry our friend." - Kel'Serrar, making a compromise.
"And I come back to an empty cave." - Ladyhawk, pointing out the obvious flaw.


Maebh loses her quarry in the end, but soon finds an extensive rabbit warren. She immediately decides to send a Flare down into the warren, blowing apart several rabbits. The smell of cooked lagomorph wafts up from the hole in the ground, and a handful of other holes too. She skewers three of the rabbits on her spear, slinging them upon her belt.
At this point Maebh heads back to the cave, tossing the rabbits over to Harold when she arrives, who gives the cub-pups a rabbit each and the mage an extra handful of coppers.

"Hey, can I set fires with Create Elements?" - Ladyhawk, discovering the utility of her abilities.
Turns out that yes, that is what it is mainly for.
"Then why did I not do that last night?" - Ladyhawk
"Mainly because you didn't care."

This is a bit dark here, and I am fully aware that there are children and those with uncomfortable constitutions on these forums. It has been spoilered for safety.
Maebh decides to sacrifice the prisoner and after a little prodding, gives us a small taste of potential brutality to come.
"Fine, I string him up in a tree. I then start to... flay his skin. Taking it off, piling it up. Then after taking all his skin off, I just let his blood run. So I'll sever his arteries and let him bleed to death." - Ladyhawk's vivid description of how the brigand dies, reminding us once again that the Danann are not your normal elves...

All the while the party can hear the screams of pain. Eventually they stop but by this stage everyone but Maebh has left, neither Harold nor Breanna wanting to witness the depraved act, and Kel'Serrar wishing to get on the road once more.

This bit is even more squicky. Read on at your own discretion.
"It is customary to eat bits of the sacrifice." - Me, wanting to see how far I could push this.
There is silence....
"I take it you aren't hungry?" - Me, laughing.
"Nah I'll eat bits. His heart I guess." - Ladyhawk.
"You're no longer hungry." - With dark humour.
"Well this is... this is harrowing isn't it?" - Dev.
"I'm glad we're having that effect then, this is good."


Maebh comes onto the road to join the others, covered in much blood. The party continues north and swiftly comes upon the ruins.

Breanna passes an Intelligence check, deciding it looks a bit like a big temple.
"We forgot to buy torches didn't we?" - Harold
A rectangular doorway in front of the party leads to the temple complex itself. Harold sniffs the air and smells old stuff. There's a weird acrid tang on the air. Smells like acid, ants and death. He can smell people, but overall the overwhelming smell he gets is old.

"Kel'Serrar, could you please set up camp? Please?" - Harold, giving everyone work to do.
"Okay." - Kel'Serrar
"Could you do a quick perimeter check?" - Harold, to Breanna.
"You're asking me?" - Breanna
"Yeah. I'm asking you to do a perimeter check. And you, could you please guard the door?" - Harold, with little patience.
"Sure." - Maebh, cooly
"Thank you." - Harold, learning to deal with uncooperative teammates.

Small silence....
"And what is Harold doing?" - Me, feeling there needed to be some prodding.
"I'm doing...." - Dev, scratching for a task.
"Nothing?" - Ladyhawk, cutting


"I'm going to go look for firewood." - Harold, finally coming up with something amidst the laughter.

Breanna heads off to look at the perimeter. She doesn't find much really. Kel'Serrar sets up camp while Harold looks for firewood. Maebh easily sets the fire.

But they have no tents, nor any real camping equipment.

Harold looks for a water source while Maebh creates water in her hand. Some discussion about whether drinking from the hand of a murderous, carnivorous wild she-elf is sanitary. It is decided that perhaps bowls and such might be in order.
"Who wants it first?" - Maebh, vaguely threatening.

It is decided that rope and other supplies... cups and such might be a good idea. So Maebh is sent back to Summer Hill to go pick up equipment amidst more talk regarding respective speeds. So a shopping list is constructed and Maebh is given money by everyone to go get the equipment.
Shopping List:
- 4 tents
- 20 feet of rope
- 2 torches
- Tinder box
- A keen dagger for Breanna
- Food supplies, dried meat, berries, hard tack etc.
- Wagon + draught creature

Breanna shares her conspiracy theory after Harold shares the letter given by the brigand. Her theory seems to be almost matching up.
Not sure how, but Breanna's theory seems to have gone missing. The basic gist of it was that Rangard hired the brigands, for whatever reason.


The rest of the group starts to explore the outside of the ruins in Maebh's absence. Harold searches the perimeter on the second day, not finding anything of interest. Kel'Serrar also starts to wander around, exploring and such. Breanna decides that looking for berries and other such stuff might be a good idea.

Maebh picks up a wagon, but is incapable of driving. She decides to hire a driver. She succeeds after some time in finding someone who will drive the cart there for ten sulvers. Maebh keeps him in line by passively threatening to eat him.

That night, at the ruins, there is a weird shrieking...

Cue both girls emulating the Nazgul simultaneously. It was surprisingly accurate too.
"They are the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead."

"I suggest we go hide in the woods." - Harold
"Well Breanna's already playing possum." - Sins
While both Breanna and Kel'Serrar have Concealment, Harold doesn't. So whatever it is will probably not see them and come straight for him.
"The Nazgul will come for you. *screech* - LD
"Okay, stop that!" - Dev
Laughter.
"The best you can do mate is to hold your hands in the air and recite, "I, am a tree."


The three of them start to hide in the trees, all the while Maebh is driving from the south along the road, with the screeching coming from the north. She can hear it in the distance and hopes that she doesn't run into whatever it is.

Meanwhile, Breanna succeeds on her Concealment check, swathing herself in her cloak and pressing herself into the shadows.
Kel'Serrar on the other hand...
"Yeah I give up on hiding. Look here, Harold's a tree!" - Sins, trying to draw attention from himself.

Ahead of them, a shambling mess emerges from the ruins, shrieking and groaning as it stumbles towards them...
"I thought you were hiding Harold." - Kel'Serrar
"SHUT UP!" - Harold

The corpsewalker comes gurgling and gargling, fingertips worn down to bone claws. Quick and ungainly, gnashing its teeth, it comes straight for Harold/tree. The walker's flesh is literally rotting on its body.

The fight with the corpsewalker was interesting with very little damage actually occurring on either side. To the point that Breanna failed so much that despite her repeated efforts, it doesn't even realise she's there. This is partially down to her really good Concealment check and partially due to her utterly failing to do any damage even with the bonuses for Sneak Attacks. Well that, and the thing's Perception is so low that it was having trouble detecting Harold.
"I'm a tree with a knife!" - LD
"A stabbing shrubbery!" - Sins, who had also managed to avoid detection. In his case it was mainly due to Harold flailing wildly at it with axe and sword.
Sins ends up suggesting that his attempts to bandage it up might do more damage than his archery.


Harold finally hits it with his axe, but does only a little damage, however the creature is similarly unable to hit the duellist, with the few strikes which are on target being parried by the Invarrian.
Kel'Serrar finally manages to set an arrow on fire after at least four attempts. He then misses his shot, blasting a hole into one of the blocks of stone littering the area. Breanna misses again with her knife.
The group really seems to be feeling Maebh's absence.

"Has anyone managed to hit it yet?" - LD
"Yep." - Dev
"I hit in the arm." - Sins
"... I suck... No, don't nod like that guys!" - LD


Breanna finally hits. Finally. And utterly fails to do any damage at all.
Kel'Serrar finally manages to kill it after a very long time. Harold considers hugging Kel'Serrar until the Danann threatens the Invarrian with a thorough stabbing.

And everyone gets another level.

We left it there, with Maebh likely to arrive sometime next morning.

The corpsewalker fight was an interesting one. A single bite could well have spelt the end of one of the characters as the corpsewalker virus is easily transmitted. Once affected by the virus, the character quickly starts to rot away, losing all conscious thought and becoming animalistic and horrbily violent. Not to mention hungry.

Luckily, while Harold was almost bitten, he managed to get the blade of his sword between the creature's teeth and his skin.

Don't read this if you are one of my players, which is unlikely if I think about it, but better safe than sorry.
This was a purposely weak corpsewalker as one of the party was out and two others wounded. As such, I decreased most of its stats by a fair bit. More, stronger corpsewalkers will be making appearances as the campaign continues, but I justified this one's weakness by saying it was hungry and outcast, nearing the end of its time.


The Wrap-up
All in all I think it went rather well for a first session. The group seemed to enjoy it and worked together pretty well. As we expected, the lack of a tank means the group seems to suffer against small numbers of tough opponents, but all four characters seem to be decent at dealing decent amounts of damage, meaning that at least four weaker opponents go down very quickly. Well except for Breanna, but Maebh's flair for Flares tends to make up for that.

Lady Darkmoon will have her own percentile dice to by the time the next session rolls around, as will Dev hopefully, who was using two different coloured D10's and "forgetting" to allocate the place values until after rolling. :smalltongue:

There were some darker themes involved in this, particularly the sacrifice, which I did not plan for and am sort of regretting asking for details. Not because I have a problem with the material, as after all, I wrote the inspiration for Ladyhawk's description, but because I am starting to feel as if that should have been either volunteered information or "fade-to-black." But ah well, it certainly set a bit of a tone for the campaign and helped to ram home that Maebh is not to be trifled with.

The next session is scheduled for the 30th of November, so, provided everything goes well, you should see Session 1.2 up here soon.

Cheers and thanks for reading,

Amidus Drexel
2012-11-05, 10:05 AM
Subscribed! Sounds like a really interesting campaign already. Can't wait to hear more!

Phoenixguard09
2012-11-05, 11:23 PM
I'm glad you think so. :smallsmile: As far as I can tell, the players share your enthusiasm so hopefully we'll be able to share some more good stories.

Thank you,

Phoenixguard09
2012-11-10, 10:50 PM
The Players

The first player is Duke Dev, a longtime friend of mine. He has a bit of RP experience, particularly with me as a GM, so he knows my "style."

Name: Harold Oakenshield
Race: Invarrian
A tall, ocean-faring people, the Invarrians have made their living by pillaging the fishing villages off the northern coasts for centuries. The call of the sea is in the blood of every Invarrian pup, the waves beckoning them towards a life of adventure. They are the Sea Wolves, a name which indicates how the Invarrians approach conflict on both land and sea. Invarrians see war as a game, with gold and other spoils being the prize at the end of the raiding season. As such, even when being defeated, they remain cheerful. After all, it's only a game.

Primary Class: Duellist
Lightly armoured, focusing on finesse in close combat. Very good one on one, the Duellist is able to prevent enemies from attacking anyone else through Taunts and other such interesting effects. Quite effective at dealing damage, not so flash at taking it.
Secondary Class: Storm Herald
A special class developed specifically for this campaign, the Storm Herald has some nice little area and battlefield control spells and abilities, along with some powerful weather control.

Age: 53 years old. As such Harold is considered to be aging and suffers some negatives to his physical statistics, however he gains 4 free Skill Points to spend to represent his experience.
Eye Colour: Hazel
Hair & Fur Colour: Black and white shaggy fur.
Birthsign: The Eagle
Those born under the sign of the Eagle tend to be born explorers, often going out of their way to take not only the path less travelled, but the more difficult and challenging path too. Because of their high focus on intellectual exploration, many inventors, eccentrics and highly original trailblazers are born under this sign. They can be objective in judgement, and tend to not let their emotions get in the way of the right decision. Outgoing and amiable, Eagles attract friends wherever they go and those whom Eagles befriend have their unswerving loyalty.

Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 86 kg or 190 lbs

Dev chose for Harold to be lightly armoured and armed with a boarding axe and cutlass, really pushing both the pirate and viking themes.

And of course, a series of questions to ask any player when they create their characters as they help to get the character "sorted out."

Where are you from? Harold Oakenshield is from the small port village known as Raven's Elm on the southwest coast of the Isle of Varr.

What is your family like? Harold comes from a litter of three siblings, all of which are alive and kicking. Harold is the firstborn and therefore his father's heir. Both his parents perished in a fire after long and fruitful lives.

What is your social class? Harold is part of the reaver class, which are almost the Invarrian equivalent of knights. After striking out on his own though, Harold would be held in a small amount of reverence due to his age and experience, but there would be no deference to his rank.

How did you become an adventurer? Harold spent the majority of his career sailing and raiding against the Midland kingdom of Northland in the great reaving which destroyed that kingdom's naval power. After some time, Harold became bored with the game as the Invarrians seemed to be too strong for the Midlanders and decided to set out on his own to explore the southern lands of Norbayne.

How religious are you? Harold is fairly religious, respecting both the Invarrian Golden God and the God of the Deep. He is not a devout worshipper, however he remains respectful because he knows the dangers of not showing the correct reverence.

Do you have any good friends or enemies? Harold remains in good relations with the reavers he sailed with in his time against Northland. He has also met the famed duellist Barnan MacSilver in personal combat two times, each having prevailed once against the other. Harold let the Midlander go after their first duel with the respect due to a good player. When MacSilver prevailed in the second duel, he felt as if he owed something to the old Invarrian and let him go, vowing that the next time they meet would be the last.

What are your prized possessions? Harold carries a prized silver chain with him which was a gift from his mother, old but well-kept and polished. He also carries a small golden disk with a representation of one of the Invarrians gods on either side. It is small and intended to give a little luck.

Who are you loyal to? The Invarrians and the Isle of Varr as a whole. The reavers he sailed with. Harold also has a fair respect for the reigning Stormlord of Varr. His family. Such is the nature of Invarrians that Harold is likely to display a certain loyalty to anyone he decides to take a liking to.

Who do you love/hate? The Invarrians find hatred a difficult emotion to conceive. Harold has had passing fancies in the past but reconciles this with an assumption that they've quite possibly passed away or found other suitors in his time reaving.


My next player was my own sister, Lady Darkmoon, who is a little younger than the rest of the group but seems to fit in well enough. Having GM'd for her before, I knew from the beginning she would pick a "cute" character.

Name: Breanna Blackrose
Race: Leathe
A small people, the diminutive Leathe of the southern bounds of the Wardenfells are known to be exceptional archers and intuitive hunters. Despite their small size, the Leathe fierce and canny fighters. If the great Northmenn of Unterguardt are as the great ice bear, the Leathe are to likened to the fox, cunning and swift. Marsupial and tree dwelling, the Leathe have a natural love of illusions, children often entertaining themselves from an early age with wisps of mist-like figures dancing about them. They have no great affection for the Danann, with whom they share their woodland home, but generally get on well with the other races, if just a little secretive about their homeland.

Primary Class: Assassin
Lightly armoured, focussing on stealth and backstabbing. A small amount of Black Magic will be available depending on the player.

Age: 20 years old. Breanna is considered to be entering the prime years for adventuring.
Eye Colour: Silver
Hair Colour: Black
Birthsign: The Dragain
Dragains often tend to switch off from the world around them, almost hibernating to come to a decision. As such, many are almost incapable of coming to a decision without this contemplative stage, becoming easily flustered when forced to choose. However, when the proper decision making process is observed, a Dragain is stubborn and will do everything in their power to see it done.
Height: 4' 5"
Weight: 45 kg or 100 lbs

She chose not to take the Talent which would allow her to wear leather armour and instead focussed on buffing her ability to deal damage with Sneak Attacks. For a weapon, she uses but a knife.

And an interview with Breanna Blackrose, who is both disturbed and disturbing...

Where are you from?
"A small village called Greenstone which is on the side of one of the Wardenfells."

Have you been back to Greenstone recently?
"No, I've got the (GSPD) on my tail. No literally, on my tail!"

What is your family like?
"Annoying. Nibbity, nibbity, nibbity! That's right, be afraid. I come from a family of four brothers who were... quite irritating. I was a middle child which was... terrible."
Are your parents still alive?
"No, sadly. Many years ago they were crushed by a plow-horse in a tragic accient. Just so you know, it involved a little brother... and a whip. "

What is your social class?
"I am middle-class I guess. Which is difficult as I am neither poor nor rich and its hard to actually tell people that. After my parents' deaths I was forced to become a hired killer, which is dangerous but rewarding. Dangerous because I am a procrastinator, yet rewarding because I like watching people suffer. It's fun."

How did you become an adventurer?
"I needed to leave my hometown because of work. The law enforcement in Greenstone (GSPD ) knew my face and this meant I had to lay low. Summer Hill was far enough away to hide. I like to think of myself as a violent character, but Summer Hill sounded nice."

How religious are you?
"Uh, not very. I'm not very religious at all. I see religion as needless for a paid killer. Basically, if there are any gods, they wouldn't like me. In fact, they would probably give me a total smack-down."

Do you have any good friends or enemies?
"I have no friends left in Greenstone because they all hate me. Any enemies tend to end up dead. Don't get on my bad side."

What are your prized possessions?
"... My trusty carving knife.... Hehehehe..."

Who are you loyal to?
"Whoever can pay me the most. I'm like a mercenary, seriously. If you pay me, I'm loyal, like a dog. A bite-y dog."

Who do you love/hate?
"People I love seem to hate me and the people I hate are probably already dead. Oh and the people who used to love me before I started doing this stuff have been crushed by a plow-horse."


Lady Darkmoon is an accomplished young artist, having won the Young Australian Art Award twice over the last four years and running up the other two. As such, I will prevail upon to her provide illustrations of the characters in time. Hopefully. She's a stubborn young lady.


The next player is Ladyhawk, my girlfriend, who is new to RP'ing, yet is very much a gamer girl. I ran a short, introductory solo session for her the weekend before the game to see how she would go and I think she handled herself very well.

Name: Maebh Preachain-Eite or Maebh Raven-Wing when among those who do not speak Danann
Race: Danann
The Danann of the Wardenfells are a wild race of hunters and warriors. The Danann wear their dark hair long, often twining talismans and feathers into the braids to give luck and protection when they hunt. Tall and slender, the Danann are decptively strong and have keen intelligence and almost preternatural senses. They view the other peoples as their prey, and warfare is a great hunt, one test the skills of the mightiest of huntsmen. What little is known of their society is mainly through the outcasts who are propelled to seek a life of adventure in other lands. The eastern realms tell of summer nights when the Danann tear through outlying hamlets, seizing terrified villagers to take back to their tall cities to be brutally sacrificed. These are just tales of course...

Primary Class: Mage
Lightly armoured, the Mage focusses on Arcane Magic. The Mage may specialise in one field to the detriment of the others but this can lead to some really nasty Fireball-ery and such. Hopefully though the way Arcane Magic works in this system should stop the Mage from being overpowered.

Age: 28 years old. As such, she is considered to be in the prime years for adventuring.
Eye Colour: Golden
Hair Colour: Long, raven black
Birthsign: The Crow
Those born under the sign of the Crow often have a gift for talking, are talented writers or have a special interest in foreign languages. They are quite egregious and often feel lonely very easily. The Crow personality can appear mysterious or detached to others and therefore they are often misunderstood and unappreciated for the talents they offer to the world at large.

Height: 6' 0"
Weight: Wouldn't you like to know? (59 kg or 130 lbs)

Maebh wears little leather armour as protection and wields a hunting spear which doubles as a staff. Her selection of spells suffered as a result of this, being able to cast only Flare, a basic magic missile and Create Elements, a utility spell which prevents people from getting thirsty or provides torchlight when needed etc. A handy spell, but not useful in combat.

Where are you from?
Maebh comes from a small village deep in the Wardenfells called Lion Den or Leomhan Nead in the Danann tongue.

What is your family like?
Maebh had a younger brother, but he failed to survive the Harrowing (The traditional Danann rite of sending twelve year olds out into the wilderness where they are expected to survive as a pack for at least two years before they're let back into the cities and villages). Her mother is a Cleaver (a cook/butcher which is a highly regarded place in Danann society) and her father is a Hunter, one who goes for game rather than sacrifices.

Maebh was exiled from the Wardenfells following an incident involving a man condemned to die to sate the thirst of the Gods. Her parents were killed in the aftermath, severing all ties.

"During a raid, a different sort of man was brought in. He was taller and had sharper features than all the others. When I asked, I was informed that he was a "crossbreed," half-Danann and half-Human. Curious, when the tribe was sleeping I approched the man, and began to question him, as one would question a child, for if he was only half-Danann then he surely would be as immature and uniintelligent as all the other species of these lands. However, he was surprisingly witty, the Danann part of him greater than I first thought.

After some time, I found, against my better judgement that I had fallen in love with him. We Danann choose one partner and then take no other for all our long lives, and I felt in that moment that my heart had betrayed me. I knew that in only a week he would be killed. I worked for days towards an escape, including my mother in this plan, beleving she would understand. But, on the very day I was to enact the plan, I was betrayed.

My mother told the Elders about what I was going to do, and they killed him early. I fought to save him, to deny his death, wielding more power in those few moments than I had in half a lifetime. I remember thinking I was about to explode with magic, but I did not care.

I directed my power at everyone who tried to hurt him, all those who had taken from me him whom I had loved so fiercely for so little time, however they were too many. By the time I had blazed my way through the crowd to get to him, I looked on in despair. He was dead, a knife buried deep in his heart. The man who had struck the blow looked on at me in defiance. I gathered both hands together and destroyed him utterly, burning him until there was nothing left but charred bones and ashes.

It was then somebody grabbed my arms and it occured to me that I had broken our most sacred law. I needed to flee or be executed. I threw off the restraining hands and began my rampage once more. In a brief moment of respite I saw my mother standing to the side, tears streaming down her face. She cried that she was sorry, that she hadn't intended this to happen, that the Gods must be appeased. But her protests came too late, for she had betrayed me. It was by my hand that my own mother was blasted into oblivion. I turned and seized my love's body, and ran for my life. Fleeing from my home, and all my memories, carrying the dead weight of the man I loved with me.

As I reached the very edge of the Wardenfells, I buried my love under the shade of an ancient tree. I stayed by his grave for many days, until I could stand the grief no more. Empty, I turned and left the forest and the one man I could ever love."
- From the writings of Maebh Preachain-Eite,

How religious are you?
- The Danann do not usually hold to gods, largely believing that the gods, while many and real, do not give a **** about mortals. Oh except of course, that the Danann often bring back prisoners, Aztec style, whom they ritually... well destroy. They believe that the offering of blood will keep the gods slumbering and they will not rise up and destroy the world. So as far as the Danann are concerned, they're doing the world a favour and everyone owes them.

Maebh is not very religious, but still believes in offering blood as a sacrifice. She is often forced to use lesser animals, something which is not done by the Danann usually. As far as Maebh is concerned, blood is blood. Does it matter what veins it flowed through?

Who are your best friends and worst enemies?
No friends. She hates the Danann of her tribe, but all Danann tend to shun her and she shuns them in return. In particular there was a mage from her village who was very condescending towards her, pushing for her love's early execution.
- The hatred Maebh holds for this ******* is matched only by that held by Warhammer players for Mat Ward.

What are your prized possessions?
A necklace her love gave her, and the beads in her hair from passing her Harrowing. In addition to this she carries a spear which she uses as a staff as well.

Who are you loyal to?
Lost all loyalty after the betrayal of her mother. That doesn't mean she can't work with people, she just doesn't ever completely trust them.

And finally, what sort of temperament does she have? How does she view the other peoples of Norbayne?
- Danann are often quite.... savage. They view other races in much the same way as a wolf sees deer.... or rabbits.
Maebh is quite calm and reserved. She is broken and suffers every day. She can work in groups, just is quick to defend herself if she believes anyone is trying to threaten or hurt her. She looks down upon everyone and views them as either children or animals.


As can be seen, she's a difficult character with a lot of stuff in her past. Ladyhawk has probably put the most effort into her character out of the group as a whole, so it might be tough stopping her from outshining the rest.


And lastly, Sins of Dusk created the last character, Kel'Serrar. I have not gamed with him before, though I count him as a friend.

Name: Kel'Serrar
Race: Danann
Primary Class: Ranger
Medium armour, focussed on outdoorsy stealth woodland stuff and archery. Through skills, can cover the Arcane Archery, Beastmaster and Hunter archetypes.

Seondary Class: Mesmer
Light armour, focussed on Illusionary Arcane Magic. I like the idea of a Thief type character who uses a speciality in Illusions to make their thievery better but perhaps this archetype could be covered by multiclassing a Rogue with a Mage who specialises in Illusions.

Age: 27 years old. As such, he is considered to be in the prime years for adventuring.
Eye Colour: Black
Hair Colour: Short white hair
Birthsign: The Hare
There is ingenuity around those born under the Hare, a kind-heartedness, which unfortunately is sometimes played upon by others for their advantage. Despite this, most Hares find cynicism a foreign concept.
Generally creative, Hares are also often delicate and shy, happy to allow others to take the glory but are fully capable of standing up when necessary.

Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 56 kg or 123 lbs

Kel'Serrar uses a longbow in combat, augmenting this with some degree of ability in the arts of arcane archery. For backup he uses a long dagger and wears light leather armour, preferring speed and stealth.

And obligatory background info.

From: a neutral town called Dev'Iere, this town was burned down by raiders years ago
Last contact: Thirteen years ago, a year before the town was destroyed.
Family: None surviving
Social status: Low, somewhere between an outcast and an orphan
Religious affiliation: Reveres nature and it's own deity, believes that nothing may go to waste, to do otherwise is disrespectful to nature
Loves/Hates: loves plains and forests, as well as animals, is interested in all forms of magic, not so fond of people though. Hates ashes and bandits.
loyal to: allies and animals, anyone else is of secondary importance
Temperament: cynical and occasionally sarcastic, due to the amount of time spent in solitude between missions, has a solid sense of right and wrong... and often ignores this sense. makes all judgements by the heart and thinks it through after the judgement has been resolved.


EDIT* In Session 4.4, we brought in another new player, Delphoxie. Delphi is Sins' significant other, with a bit of tabletop experience. Her first session with us was a rousing success and we have enjoyed having her back on a regular basis.

Name: Aeva of the Aett'kvis Nordur-Vatn
Race: Selkye
The men of the Eastern Tundra are excellent hunters, a way of life encouraged by their icy home. Their skills are often put to the test by the monstrous denizens of the cold plains such as the great ice bear and massive mammoths. The majority of Selkye settlements are fishing villages, supported by the catch of the brave ocean-hunters who go out on the dark seas in their tiny vessels so as to bring in hauls of fish. Shorter and stockier than the other human races, the Selkye are famed for their leatherwork and complicated language. They wear their dark hair long and braided and the men often sport outrageous moustaches.
Primary Class: Druid
Lightly armoured, focussing on Spirit Magic. Only Spirit Magic is available to the Druid but it has some powerful effects, Bestial Form in particular as it allows the character to become an animal for a period of time.
Secondary Class: Mesmer
Light armour, focussed on Illusionary Arcane Magic. I like the idea of a Thief type character who uses a speciality in Illusions to make their thievery better but perhaps this archetype could be covered by multiclassing a Rogue with a Mage who specialises in Illusions.

Age: 22 years old. As such Aeva is considered to be at the peak of her ability.
Eye Colour: Blue.
Hair Colour: Black.
Birthsign: The Boar
As a credit to those of the Boar and considering their many vulnerable characteristics, they are incredibly adaptable and resilient. As a trend, Boars tend to fantasize about situations and people and because they spend so much time in their own fantasy land, this can catch them unawares in other more worldly areas. Because of this inner world of fantasy, Boars seldom perceive whatever is going on around them in its true light. They see life instead as they want to see it, colouring their view of the world in hues and tones far removed from its true reflection. When at their worst, Boars often become depressed, obsessive and confused and usually feel a need to dream.
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 45 kg or 100 lbs
Personal Appearance:
Aeva is a short and slim Selkye with olive skin and black hair. She wears blue dyed wool robes with heavy grey fur trim. More details incoming.

Aeva carries a spear, a hunting bow and a worn bone knife, but she only rarely uses weapons, instead relying on her wits, illusions and shapeshifting ability to win her fights. She carries the feet of a cat, a fox and a rabbit on her belt and a hawk feather in her hair, which enable her to change her form into any of those creatures.

And background:
Aeva Nordur-Vatn, at the young age of 14 discovered her abilities. She was raised by her mother and father, a druid and a shaman respectively. She inherited her mothers abilities and was trained day in day out by her Priestess mother, praised for her exceptional abilities. Aeva too had wonderful abilities but struggles to understand why she had to use them as the Selkye demanded.

At 17, her abilities grew strong enough that she could harness the power of beast form. While this was a great ability, the animal you could first turn into determined your rank and status among her tribe, Nordur-Vatn. You had to hunt down and animal and perform resonance with said creature. Not everyone could do this with every animal so for many people it took years to be able to harness a creatures power. It took Aeva 6 months until she turned into a creature for the first time. She changed into a Fox. There was a huge uproar among her tribe as this was seen as a bad omen. Foxes were deemed the tricksters of the Selkye religion and were heavily frowned upon so Aeva was under a lot of scrutiny. Naturally, the tribe were keeping a watchful eye on Aeva's every move. This caused her to rebel and fight against the higher ups of her people.

A year passed and Aeva's tribe was invaded by the Wrothdar. While her people managed to fight them off, many of her people were captured. Mostly the females that were high ranking and/or had great abilities. While the men that were captured her father and two of his work colleagues. Aeva tried her hardest to free them but they disappeared before she got the chance.

Aeva spent the 3 years following their trail but to no luck. She then realised that she would need a lot of help to find and apprehend them. So she set out on a journey to find people that would be willing to help her.


EDIT* In Session 5.3, we brought in yet another new player, Yohan Yorvasker. Yohan is an old friend of ours from school, whom I had fallen out of touch with, but was still good friends with Sins and Delphi's. We had been angling to have him join for a little while, and we did get him in, about two sessions later than we had originally intended. He has only played the one session with us for now, but he fit in very well and we are looking forward to having him return.

Name: Xander Rothgar
Race: Feartarbh
The Feartarbh are the remnants of the great Bovus Empire which once stretched across the breadth of Norbayne. When the Empire fell, the Bovus split into two groups: The huge, fearsome Krowavir and the smaller, more intelligent Feartarbh. Both species are tall and powerful compared to the other intelligent races of Norbayne, the Feartarbh commonly reaching a height of seven feet. Both the Feartarbh and the Krowavir are well known for their massive horns, in some specimens numbering up to four and reaching almost three feet in length in the largest of the Krowavir. Unlike their wild brethren, the Feartarbh are slowly assimilating into the cultures which have risen since the fall of their Empire.
Primary Class: Guardian
Heavily armoured, the Guardian has access to healing and protective Spirit Magic while still being heavily armed enough to serve as a front-line fighter. Very Paladin-like but more about protecting others than healing and killing people.
Secondary Class: N/A
Age: 55 years old. Xander is considered to be at the peak of his ability.
Eye Colour: Crystal blue.
Hair Colour: Black.
Birthsign: The Bull.
Underneath their cool, calm and collected exterior, Bulls are usually a maelstrom of pent up energy. They will let others get close, but only so close as they want them. It is for this reason that Bulls are sometimes regarded as withdrawn or even boring. Bulls hate to be put in jeopardy of any kind and this usually leads to Bulls going out making the future happen as they want it, rather than leaving it to fate.
Height: 8' 6"
Weight: 600lbs or 272kg
Personal Appearance:
Huge, black and imposing with two large, curling horns.

Xander carries a huge, wooden tower shield adorned with a bull's head icon and crafted in the fashion of his ancestors. He wields an iron warhammer in one huge fist in conjunction with the shield and also carries a gigantic greatsword on his back. He wears banded steel plate armour on his torso, but his legs are kept unencumbered to help him retain what speed he has.

And background:
Pending Yohan's background post. What is known is that Xander is a very generous and caring individual, quite curious and prone to lapses in judgement brought about by a propensity to rage. He may have Krowavir blood somewhere in his lineage....


EDIT* In Session 2.1, we were introduced to our first new player, Wings of Decay and his character, Tremor Ironfist. Wings was a friend of a few of the group from our schooling days and had a fair bit of tabletop experience, mainly playing with Sins. Tremor remains with the party until the very end of Arc 4, whereupon we lost Wings from the playing group due to personal issues.

Name: Tremor Godrikson of Clan Ironfist
Race: Dwergar
A short, stocky and muscular people from the high northern mountains of Unterguardt, the Dwergar are well-known for their ability with metal and their incredibly stubborn personalities in almost equal measure. Male Dwergar almost universally cultivate thick beards, the longer and healthier, the greater source of pride it is for the owner. The shaving of a Dwergar's beard is one of the gravest of insults, one which has led to great internecine strife in the past. Called Dwarves by the men of Norbayne, the Dwergar are not overly fond of the other races, preferring by far to delve further into their mountainous homes. Their love for political intrigue is legendary, as is their lust for gold but above all, their indomitable pride is their greatest blessing and curse rolled into one.
Primary Class: Engineer
Medium armour, focussed on building traps and temporary fortifications. Given a bit of time and some raw materials and Engineer is able to build all sorts of stuff. The Engineer is also able to repair/create equipment if the character takes the right Skills.
Primary Class: Necromancer
Medium armour, focussed on the manipulation of dead things through Black Magic. Tampering with the dead requires far too much power for Arcane Magic users, so Black Magic is the only way to access Necromancy. Quite powerful but also prone to being eaten by Daemons.

Age: 50 years old. As such Tremor is considered to be aging and suffers some negatives to his physical statistics, however he gains 2 free Skill Points to spend to represent his experience.
Eye Colour: Black
Hair Colour: Long, thick coal-black hair and beard.
Birthsign: The Wolf
Trying to tie down these free-spirited individuals is often frustrating for those around them as Wolves are happiest on the move, exploring new cultures and ideas. Freedom loving, optimistic and honest, Wolves are notorious for their lack of tact however they do tend to work well in groups, both as leaders and members of the pack.

Height: 4' 7"
Weight: 81 kg or 180 lbs

Tremor carries an assortment of tools which in the case of his hammer and hatchet, double as weapons. He relies on leather armour when he meets the rest of the group, but soon acquires chainmail.

And obligatory background info.

Tremor hails from Nordtarnet, a Dwergar-held border fort on the edge of the great Unterguardt kingdom of Rivervind.

Being the eldest of three children, Tremor shouldered the responsibility thrust upon him and was destined to succeed his father for control of Nordtarnet in time, but in losing himself to the blood-rage which before him had not been seen in his family for three generations, he killed not only his enemies but his battle brothers as well. All five warriors with him fell to his axe, bringing shame upon his family and his own father exiled the young dwarf on pain of death.

Tremor prays to a god of war, though he does not know His name, hoping to avoid relapsing into the blood-rage which claimed his battle brothers. The amulet of this god, which he wears under his jerkin and around his neck, is his only valued passion, one which he found on his travels in an abandoned shrine.

Once he was loyal to his clan and family but after he was exiled that loyalty fell into ruin and now he is loyal only to himself. The ones he loved betrayed him, so love is out of the question. He is filled self-loathing for his crimes, but would not seek suicide until he feels he has paid the world back for the misery he has felt.

Tremor is distrusting of most people but will mix or work with everyone for the right amount of coin, but can barely contain his contempt/rage for his own kind, unless there's alcohol involved, in which case he often finds he just doesn't care anymore.



EDIT* Around the time of Session 3.2, we picked up one more player, Wings of the Opal Sky, or Opal for short. She's a friend of LD's from school and expressed some interest after LD went and showed all her friends the fun we were having. Opal has some experience in PBP as far as I'm aware, but no prior experience in tabletop play.

Therressa finally joined the group in Session 3.3, having already featured in a mini-session.

At the moment, Opal has had to take a leave of absence, which has been explained by Therressa going back to Varr to deliver a reply from Harold to his sister. It is very unlikely at this stage that Opal will resume playing with us, but we wish her all the best in her future endeavours.

Name: Therressa Bannimagen (Firebelly)
Race: Invarrian
Primary Class: Warrior
Heavily armoured, focussed on killing **** up close. Warriors are both good at dealing damage and taking it. Through skills they can cover may different archetypes including the Berserker and the Knight. They will also have a little ranged ability but their skills will not offer any of the archery perks associated with the Ranger or Rogue.
Age: 22 years old. As such Therressa is considered to be at the peak of her ability.
Eye Colour: Dark blue-silver.
Hair Colour: Dark brown hair, with a more golden-brown pelt.
Birthsign: The Crow
Those born under the sign of the Crow often have a gift for talking, are talented writers or have a special interest in foreign languages. They are quite egregious and often feel lonely very easily. The Crow personality can appear mysterious or detached to others and therefore they are often misunderstood and unappreciated for the talents they offer to the world at large.
Height: 5' 8"
Weight: 80 kg or 180 lbs
Personal Appearance:
Therressa is at the shorter end of the scale when it comes to height for Invarians, though she makes up for it in speed and durability. She has strangely pale skin that blends into a golden brown fur. Her hair -which looks as though she cut it short with her sword- comes down to the nape of her neck in choppy, uneven chunks. Her ears stand on high alert, their white tips constantly twitching at any noise. Therressa's eyes are her most unusual feature, being a dark silvery-blue colour. When awake, her eyes are always wide open giving her a startled, but innocent look. Her nose is small but powerful and she considers in very trustworthy, relying on it to guide her. Her mouth is permanently stuck in the beginnings of a playful grin, one of her canines poking out of her mouth even when it’s closed; a reminder of her days of sword training when she had gotten hit with the hilt of the sword, cutting her lip.

Therressa relies on her sword in combat, using a sturdy round shield in her off-hand. She is moderately well armoured in the Invarrian style and is a well-equipped adventurer.

And obligatory background info in the form of a short interview.
1. Where are you from?
“Well, why should I tell you….? Actually…. I don’t quite know myself * laughs awkwardly* its been a while since I’ve been a place I can call home. Too much time away will do that I suppose. To be honest, I don't actually know how to even pronounce my last name properly.”

2. What is your family like?
“Rowdy. Being the youngest wasn’t always easy. Take this, I had two older brothers who acted like I wasn’t even there for about 3 years. My mother was a successful reaver while my father raised us after he took a heavy leg-wound.”

3. Why did you decide to set out on your own?
“I’d say it’s a strange story, but then I thought, ‘Isn’t alcohol the reason why most adventures happen?’ so I guess I could say, I decided to go on adventure cause of a debt. Yeah, that sounds pretty noble.

Anyway, one day I decided that while I enjoyed being around the village, adventure was my true calling and I set out on my own."

4. How religious are you?
“Not really as religious as I am superstitious. You have to have a certain respect for things, whether you believe in them or not.”

5. Who are your best friends and worst enemies?
"Well, I’d say my horse. August would be my best friend. Haven’t really stayed places long enough to make friends. Do make a lot of enemies and grudges though… I just don’t think people get my humor."

6. What are your prized possessions?
"Probably the sword me mother gave me. She was a wild thing, she was. Gold ring my father gave me after he came home from a raid. Pretty simple thing, just a gold band, I wear on my pinky."

7. Who are you loyal to?
"I am loyal to my food, my horse, and people who like me. Granted I have to like them back too."

8. Who do you love and hate?
"Well I know I hate stupid people, and stupid questions. So I think I just hate stupid people then. I do like people who laugh at my jokes. That’s one way to get on my good side."

9. What sort of temperament does your character have? How do they view the other peoples of Norbayne?
"Well, I’ve been told that my emotions are kinda mixed mashed. Like I'll be angry at one thing, and the next I'll be cheerful and pick some pretty daisy I saw, or laughing my butt off at something that happened the day before. I guess I’m pretty random and unpredictable.

As on my views of the other peoples of Norbayne, I love to learn about other people’s beliefs and cultures. I’m always up for learning something new."

Phoenixguard09
2012-12-03, 10:02 AM
Ok, as it happened we were required to postpone the game to the 7th of December as Ladyhawk was unable to make it last Friday.

On the other hand I can state that we are definitely going to go ahead with it this Friday and everyone apart from Sins has spent their respective Advance Points, and Sins has informed me of the choices he wishes to make.

We will most likely push the third session to either the 4th or 11th of January in order to account for any New Year's holidays players might be taking.

As far as choices go in the level up, I shall spoiler them here so that immersion can remain unbroken for the players. If you are one of my players, I suggest you do not read past this point.

Breanna's choices

A few changes to her stat-line to help her rolling to hit in combat and increased her Magic level to allow access to some new spells. She also gets D10+2 extra Damage when attacking an unaware enemy, can Parry with a dagger or knife and has a whopping +20 to Dodge Checks. She also picked up the spell Shadowskin, which will make her a very effective scout/spy when coupled with her high Perception and Excellent Vision trait.

Harold's choices

Increases to his Weapon Skills in order to hit more often, hitting a melee Weapon Skill of 41, which is not bad for a Level 3 Duellist. He also increased his Charisma and took Intimidation, thinking that the two choices whould help him out in his role as the party "Face." For his Talents, he took Flurry of Blows, which grants double attacks, bringing him to four in a round when using his axe and sword, and then Lightning Parry which allows him to exchange any number of attacks for that number of free Parries, meaning that anyone attacking him needs get through anywhere up to five Parries at Harold's WS 41 with a +10 to Parrying through the Experienced Duellist Talent he picked up earlier. This should allow him to be a bit more of a "Tank," something the party desperately needs.

Maebh's choices

She increased her Ballistic Skill to allow her to throw her Flares more accurately and her Magic level to give her access to some more Spells. She took Drive, as that seemed important now that the party had acquired a wagon, and Dual Casting, allowing her to cast two spells in one round, along with two Talents which increased her Damage with Spells. She also picked up Magic Alarm and Remove Curse which work as you would expect them to, along with Whispering Wind, which works very similarly to D&D's Sending.

Kel'Serrar's choices

Sins hasn't actually made his choices yet, but he did inform me that he wished to pick up two Talents which help his Arcane Archery, increase his Healing Skill, which will mean he gets a +30 to all Healing Checks and that he wished to pick up Aimed Shot, which is the first of several mundane archery related Talents Rangers may pick up.

Hopefully that will have wheted your appetite for a little while. We haven't forgotten, we're just sort of busy people. But we are certainly going to play this. :smallwink:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2012-12-07, 09:49 PM
Well we played the second session last night. I think everyone had a good time.

The write-up will be up as soon as I can get off my ass and get to writing it.

Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2012-12-07, 10:05 PM
WOHOOO!! I can't wait! Breanna is soo cute! Any chance of getting a picture of her?

By the way, I poked around your Norbayne site a bit and I couldn't find any of the really cruchy stuff-BABs, skills, feats, hit dice, that sort of thing. Could you put up some links? Also, is it okay if I make up some characters using this system? (Not necessarily to play with, I just like to futz with stuff like this).

Phoenixguard09
2012-12-08, 06:47 AM
LD's response to whether or not there might be a picture was to stroke her chin in a mischeivous manner while giving a slight smirk. As her brother, I'd be tempted to call that a yes. :smalltongue:

In response to the second part, I'd prefer not to have that openly accessible for the moment as it is subject to constant change, however if you are interested I'd be happy to PM the relevent information to you. :smallwink:

Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2012-12-08, 09:39 AM
I figured it must be at least somewhat fixed if you were running characters in this system, but I'd love to have whatever there is.

Phoenixguard09
2012-12-08, 10:28 AM
Depends on the class. At least half are somewhat fixed, with the four PC's classes among them, but a handful of others are somewhat incomplete.

As I stressed to the players, this is a test to see if the system works. That and whether I can GM for a group. Plus we've been looking for a reason to get together to do something for a long time now.

Cheers,

EDIT* I'm currently waiting for the recording to finish converting so I can play it on my own computer and begin typing it up.

ReaderAt2046
2012-12-08, 11:27 AM
Could you PM me the somewhat fixed ones then? That woudl be really nice.

Phoenixguard09
2012-12-12, 01:34 AM
I'll get them to you soon. ;)

Ok, I'm about halfway through the recording of the other night's session, but I need a bit of a break.

But here's an update for you all. To encourage some fleshing out of the characters, I went and devised "interviews" for every character, letting the players know that I would reward punctuality and effort.

All the players responded within a day of the interviews being sent out, however only two coul claim to have finished them.

For your reading pleasure, I present an interview with Breanna Blackrose.

Your eyes open and before you is a tall, kindly looking old man with a long grey beard and weatherbeaten skin. He stands before you clad in a dark grey robe and bearing a carved wooden staff. He nods in greeting, shifting his weight upon his staff and pulls out a wooden board with a piece of parchment on it and a quill.
"Welcome Breanna, it is good to see you awake. I have some questions to ask of you my girl." Though you are young and many can claim to have seen more summers than you, he truly is ancient.

"Let us begin. You had many options for employment when your parents died. Why did you choose bloodwork?"
"Well when my parents died I hated more than just plough horses, I pretty much began to hate every thing. That's when I realised that I really like to kill things, the only problem is that I am not that good at it. I needed to learn, so that's why I am an assassin now."

"What of your four brothers? Where are they? Who are they?" the old man asks, furiously scribling down letters upon the parchment.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know where my brothers are I haven't seen them since I abandoned them when Mum and Dad died. Their names are Javon, Sylvan, Raylan and Marlik Blackrose."

He finishes writing and pauses, tickling his bottom lip with the tip of his quill."You have told your companions that you fled to Summer Hill for no real reason. Is this true?"
"It is true that I came to Summer Hill for no reason other than to flee from the GSPD."

He nods. "Let us come to a more recent occurence. What was your reaction when you came face to face with a Corpsewalker for the first time? You had heard of the virus before of course, but what was it like facing one that night?"
"It was really scary when we came across that Corpsewalker and was even more scary when it attacked my companions because it wasn't asleep or knocked out so I couldn't really help much. At the same time I was incredibly relieved that it thought that I was a tree."

"Thank you for your time lass. You may go back to sleep now." Darkness overtakes you and you fall back into a deep slumber.


Lady Darkmoon was the first player to respond to the interview, so she shall receive a single Advance Point to spend at the beginning of the next session.

Now for the interview with Kel'Serrar.

Your eyes open and before you is a tall, kindly looking old man with a long grey beard and weatherbeaten skin. He stands before you clad in a dark grey robe and bearing a carved wooden staff. He nods in greeting, shifting his weight upon his staff and pulls out a wooden board with a piece of parchment on it and a quill.
"Welcome Kel'Serrar, it is good to see you awake. I have some questions to ask of you my boy." Truly he is many ages older than you.

"What actually happened to your family?"
"My family? You would need to know a little of our village's history first. We were, a little expansionist, perhaps that is not the right word but it is close enough. We enjoyed sacking towns, we saw it as a game, taking those who were good enough to be sacrifices back to the village. Then our elders had a slight change of heart, and decided in their infinite wisdom to allow the towns we would raid to remain, with half of their population, then move to the next town. Stupid, not just the elders of course, but us as well. We listened, we should have killed them then and there, but we didn't, we allowed them to poison our minds.

Our next raid was on a human settlement, not far from our village. It was still being settled over the ruins of its predecessor. My brother was a little eager, an experienced raider, always looking behind him, to make sure that no one stabbed him in the back to steal his kill. He was prone to frenzy in battle, and in a raid, if you lose your head, you're pretty much dead. He wanted to press the advantage, eliminate these foolish humans. He wanted to charge back into town, alone if he had to. So we let him, mostly. In his bloodlust he did not look behind him, one arrow was all it took. A mistake on my part, the first of many.

Only a few of our raiders agreed with my brother, they turned on us and believed us traitors. We who followed the orders of the elders, traitors? The very thought was laughable. We slew them as well as my brother, it didn't take long, but our raiding band of fifteen, had already taken casualties in the initial raid. The death of our leader, my brother, only made it worse. We were barely a third of our initial strength when we finished dealing with those caught in the frenzy, but we had broken one of the most important rules of raiding. Do not give your enemy a chance to regroup. The villagers had weapons, and we had given them time to get them. They charged us, greatly outnumbering us and they were not weary from combat. We shot a fair number of them before they reached us, but to our eternal damnation, we couldn't hold them back, we broke and ran.

Only three of us returned to the village, from a party of fifteen, but this was hardly the worst. Five villages were attacked, but only two raiding parties even returned to our village. We were one, the other only had one survivor. Although we had our doubts about the cause of their destruction, the only survivor was a mage of sorts, and we knew he had a vendetta against some of his raiders, and after all, one cannot leave witnesses now can they?

Our village was weakened, but we would survive, we were Danann, we survived the Harrowing, what more could they do to us? The next day however was a reckoning of sorts. I was brought before the elders for the murder of my brother, my 'companions' had informed the elders about me and blamed the failures of our raid entirely on his death at my hands. They were two witnesses, I was one accused, the outcome was assured. They exiled me and looking back on it, that worked out quite well. It meant I was out of town days before the village's destruction, but I still know I had a hand in its fate. The outlying towns we had raided had been provided with days to recover. Instead, they took the chance to avenge themselves on our village. It only took one night, but they razed the village, every man, woman, elder and child. The elders? They deserved their fates, they didn't want the towns destroyed, they wanted them to be able to survive. Well they certainly achieved that. The others? Some deserved it, that mage especially. My parents? One of them didn't, but it certainly was not my mother. She was baying for my blood when the elders announced that it was my hand that took my brother's life. My father was less concerned for that was the way things happened in our village, but my sister, she did not deserve to die, not by an uncontrolled fire. She looked out for me, she really did. She had a year before it would be her turn to undertake the Harrowing. She was still young, very young, that spark of innocence had yet to leave her eyes. She was still naïve to the world, and perhaps it is better this way, that she dies before learning the truth.

You ask what happened to my family? The short answer is, I did."

He looks at you through saddened eyes, quill scribbling your words upon the parchment. He nods and this gives you some small comfort to know that your words have been heard. "Let us continue. What was your Harrowing like?"
It is true, I went through the Harrowing, the darkness, the 'packs,' that in itself changes a Danann, removes that last little bit of innocence, if it ever really was present. After my exile, I was raised by harsh realities, solitude, starvation and the knowledge of having nothing behind you to take you through. In a sense, the Harrowing had provided me with everything I needed to survive alone, but it lacked the... polish I suppose that reality brings with it. I taught myself trough trial and error how to survive, moving from place to place, anything to stay alive."

"How do you work in a group environment when you find it so difficult to trust?"
"Well, first I would have to explain my adventures with another Danann, Chirya. I count her as a friend, for my part, but when I met Chirya, I thought agreeing to help her was another mistake. Already it seems I have lost count of how many I've made, but this was at least a worthwhile mistake. Chirya was...interesting, full of anger, full of emotion, yet used to solitude, guarding herself carefully, trusting no one, another outcast, yet for her, it was by choice. She thought we should travel together, at least, until we found somewhere we could part ways without meeting again while hunting. We went hungry the night we met. Not knowing the other was there, we stalked the same prey, both got ready to fire, and both heard the other draw. The prey escaped unscathed, neither of us did however. You learn to heal fast, which herbs are better, how to stop the blood from seeping out, all of this is important when there's no one else to save you. Chirya drew me into taking up the burden of healing wounds, as she was more likely to cause them than heal them. I can't say I was much better of course.

We were a strange pair, but we found we could work together. There was even some trust between us...it wasn't much, but it was there. There was always little to do besides hunt, eat and walk on our journey, so we learnt a great deal from each other. Not at first, at first we simply learned how to be silent in a group for a long period of time. But we did get a great deal of practice... Of course, all things must end eventually, even though it was a year since the fall of my village, I still wound myself within sight of where it was, the high cliff I was standing on helped of course. Chirya had explained her vendetta against humans to me before, but I never understood its depth until we found a small campsite. There were eight of them in that camp, and she tried to take it alone. She failed of course, but she got six of them, well... five, but the sixth wouldn't last much longer. The other two subdued her, tied her up and planned to bring her back to town unconscious, but she had earned my trust, I couldn't betray that.

The sixth had died during the night, the last two attended him at his death... Which is why they were looking the wrong way when it came for them as well, one arrow each, at short range. They never even knew what finished them. I went to free Chirya but she'd already gotten herself free of the rope and was getting ready to attack them again on her own. She explained later that she found herself in similar situations fairly often. In fact as we travelled together, I found she was not exaggerating. It was frequent, she was often getting captured by bands of humans in our travels, and I was often needed to get her out again, there was no longer any distrust between us, we both knew our role and we would fulfil it.

We parted ways a while back, Chirya heard rumours about the town we were staying near, this 'Summer Hill.' A war was coming they said, and Chirya was determined to speed it up a little. The deaths of humans seems to always bring out the best in her, and she always was better at manipulating the actions of others then I was. Force of personality I guess, we both knew how unlikely it was that we would meet again, but Fate seems to have a sense of humour in ensuring the past has an effect of the present. We will meet again, I know it. As long as we do not try to, it is almost certain."


"So would you consider your interactions with your current companions to be more successful as a venture than what happened with Chirya?"
"I look back on those days now and it is fairly evident that working in a group is far more successful for me then working with Chirya, but less... exciting. There is none of the trust I had grown accustomed to with her, but at least there is some entertaining diversions on occasion. 'Bait' always seems the most capable of providing these diversions through his attempts to command. Maebh seems capable, and the Leathe? Well, at least I wont go hungry again. We have our fair share of near disaster and moments of despair, but it is almost certain to be more successful then when I worked with Chirya, if only because Chirya seems to enjoy certain death choices."


"Thank you for your time lad, we're almost done here. Finally, what was your reaction when you came face to face with a Corpsewalker for the first time? You had heard of the virus before of course, but what was it like facing one that night?"
"There is no way that was a Corpsewalker, that's just a tale for frightened peasants. They'll believe anything. Yet for a creature that doesn't exist, that Corpsewalker was most certainly real. I think the shock of it being real might have caused me to waste quite a few arrows, and for a moment, lose my connection to the arcane. They didn't exist until that night, how was I supposed to kill it? And that sound, Gods below, that sound... may I never hear it again, but I doubt I shall receive that luxury. I know that sound will haunt me... at least until something worse comes up, bound to happen eventually. After all if a Corpsewalker is real, what else might be? Any creature of lore may have returned to walk among the living once more. I will admit to being more than a little apprehensive as to what awaits us, but now that I know that just because something isn't real, doesn't mean I can't kill it. I have confidence that the healing skills I learned with Chirya will be put to good use, and will provide me something I can use to take my mind off the Corpsewalkers."

"Thank you for your time lad. You may go back to sleep now." Darkness overtakes you and you fall back into a deep slumber.

As you can see, Sins put a lot of effort into that and I fully commend him for it. I'll be back with the last two interviews as soon as Ladyhawk and Dev finish them up.

Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2012-12-22, 11:13 AM
Is everything Ok?

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-21, 09:43 AM
Aye, everything has been pretty good thank you.

I have been delayed doing the write-up of the last session, but I'm almost done. Only about half an hour of the recording to go through from the four and a half hour session. So not much left at all. I'm hoping to have it up tomorrow night.

We're also set to go ahead for the third session this coming Friday, the 25th. Hopefully my voice holds up until then, but I can feel a frog in my throat at the moment, so I can only hope things are alright by Friday.

I'll leave you for now with Dev's interview which he finally got around to today.

Your eyes open and before you is a tall, kindly looking old man with a long grey beard and weatherbeaten skin. He stands before you clad in a dark grey robe and bearing a carved wooden staff. He nods in greeting, shifting his weight upon his staff and pulls out a wooden board with a piece of parchment on it and a quill.
"Welcome Harold, it is good to see you awake. I have some questions to ask of you my lad." Truly he is many ages older than you.

"Let us begin. As the firstborn of a reaver family, you must have inherited your father's holdings. What became of them once you left your homeland?"
"I left them as tradition dictates to the eldest female sibling of my house and youngest male sibling to organise until I return. But I believe that they believe me to be dead."

The old man nods. "And what of your three siblings? Where are they? Who are they?"
"Indeed, elder. My younger sister, Helga, as I said before would be on the island of Varr, organising the estate with my youngest brother Sherbald. My other brother Hosker became part of the Stormlord's Guard. When I left, I believe he had just made lieutenant."

Scribbling down answers furiously with his quill, the man looks up. "You are wanted for war crimes in the Northlands of Norbayne. Why is this? Are you guilty or innocent of the charges?"
"Crimes? What crimes? I raided in the Northlands sure, but it was all fair. I killed a few people and took our rightful spoils in exchange for not raiding them for another year. Of course, I took part in the Great Reaving. I fought in that, but I did nothing wrong."

"I see... So finally lad, what was your reaction when you came face to face with a Corpsewalker for the first time? You had heard of the virus before of course, but what was it like facing one that night?
"Terrifying. I will not forget it till the day I die. I had heard of the virus, but I assumed it to be only hearsay and legend."

"Thank you for your time lad. You may go back to sleep now." Darkness overtakes you and you fall back into a deep slumber.


Invarrian traditions are a bit funny. The eldest female of the litter typically inherits family holdings after the firstborn, which pass to any partner she might have upon marriage. In certain cases, provision might be made for another to gain partial control of the estate, but the major part of the wealth generally belongs to the eldest female.

Anyway, hope that was enjoyable. Please stay tuned, I'll have a considerable amount of new material up very soon.
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-24, 10:40 AM
Session 1.2: Into the Darkness

I just filled everyone in on the location, namely that ahead of them is the expanse of tumbled grey stone, discarded, weathered blocks strewn everywhere. The western edge is being encroached upon by the forest, roots and thick leaf-litter obscuring the rock. There is a rectangular doorway in the centre of the external ruins, which leads underground and into the temple complex itself. Inside it is dark, but there is still a little visibility, or at least there will be during the day.

The group pays the man Maebh hired to drive the wagon, not needing him anymore as she spent the majority of the trip watching what he did and learning.
She picked up the Drive skill upon levelling up
The hired driver pockets the twelve sulvers with a smile that makes the group think they've been ripped off.
"Look me up if you're ever back in town and you need my help again." - Driver, with a tip of his hat before walking away.

There is much frenzied and somewhat confused discussion about the plan. All I remember is that Ladyhawk only just realised that Dev has a broken nose.
For the uninitiated, Dev's nose is, in his words, "Flat as a pancake."

I couldn't tell even with the recording how this came about but I did find Dev's comment here quite amusing.
"I'm a dog-man, I don't have to be illiterate." - Dev, engaged heatedly with Sins.
"Wait a minute, you don't have to be illiterate?" - Me, honestly confused.
"Yeah, I don't have to be illiterate." - Dev, not realising that this word does not mean what he thinks it means.
There was much laughter, to the point that Sins nearly went catatonic, becoming "broken," as Ladyhawk put so well.


"Alright, let's go inside then." - Harold, getting everyone together.
"Wait, do we want to go inside or do we want to explore the surface first?" - Kel'Serrar
"Yes, good idea." - Harold.
"Because, if we go in, Maebh will be at the back. And if something sneaks in behind us, they'll hit the mage. And I don't want that." - Kel'Serrar.

They split up to search the outside, spreading out from the centre to cover the four cardinal directions. They all find what appear to be large chicken tracks, which seem to be milling around in random directions. In addition to this, Kel'Serrar finds broken pieces of red glazed pottery strewn about the place. They're old, but still somewhat shiny.

It is still early morning by the time they finish their explorations. Maebh casts Create Element, lighting a fire in the palm of her hand with the slight side effect of temporarily blinding herself as she became suddenly overcome by her sheer arcane might, while Harold lights one of the newly purchased torches. They then head underground, Breanna leading the way with dagger held at the ready, Harold following with axe drawn and torch in hand, Kel'Serrar with an arrow nocked and finally Maebh bringing up the rear wielding both flame and spear.

A little discussion here about how they are similar to the Fellowship of the Ring. After all, Harold has his axe, Kel'Serrar his bow and Breanna supposedly was short and had hairy feet. All she needs is a ring.

Inside it is dark, but as they are carrying light with them, visibility is not a problem. Ahead of the group there is a thick stone door. Next to the door, there are three levers which must be pulled down. Beneath each one, from left to right are three small symbols, a lion in profile facing to the right, a wolf in profile facing to the left and a horse in profile facing to the left.

They also notice that the wall is pockmarked with many fist-sized holes in the wall, which Harold points out are probably ports for spikes.

This was amusing because they, on the whole, didn't really put much thought into the pattern behind the puzzle.

"Maebh, pull the middle one." - Harold, trying to back away from the door.
"No way, I'm way back here. You pull it." - Maebh, not falling for that one.
"Right. Breanna, how about you pull it?" - Harold, still trying to back away from the door.
"NO!" - Breanna, fully aware that she's the closest and squishiest person in the party.
"Could it be starsigns?" - Maebh, inspecting the carvings carefully.
It does relate to the starsigns.
"No, it probably isn't. Pull the lion one." - Harold, not knowing what to do.
Maebh and Kel'Serrar back off to a point where the holes in the wall cease.
"Oh right, I pull the horse one then." - Breanna, not pulling anything Harold suggests.
She pulls the horse lever and a loud click is heard from within the door itself as the horse lever locks into the downward position, but that is all.
"Um, the lion next." - Breanna, pulling the lever.
Another click is heard as the lion lever is locked into position.
"And now the wolf I guess..." - Breanna, pulling the final lever.
And the door opens!
"Hooray!" - Breanna, letting her excitement getting the better of her.

If you are one of my players, do not read this bit.
The three symbols are indeed representations of three constellations which were considered sacred by the race which used to dwell within these ruins. These constellations form the basis of the starsigns used as role-playing aids in Norbayne, these three in particular being ordered Stallion-Lion-Wolf. Breanna managed, through sheer luck, to find the correct order. If she had pulled the levers in the wrong order the holes in the walls would have shot out D10 small spikes immediately, each causing 3 Damage. A single spike wouldn't necessarily kill, but with a high roll, this could have been rather dangerous, especially for Breanna.


The door swings open and a foul stench emanates from the room beyond. Despite the party's flames, they cannot see much of anything inside. Maebh casts a Flare into the room. With a cacophony of shrieks, the Flare blasts apart one of the room's denizens. The spell lights up the room, showing a number of Tahlun.

Like a three foot tall cross between a rat-man and a lizardman. Sort of like kobolds. Sort of. They're vermin. I should have artwork of the various creatures whihc most would find unfamiliar fairly soon.

Well as soon as I can get Lady Darkmoon to do it. :smalltongue:

"Forward!" - Harold, brandishing his axe and torch.
Maebh and Kel'Serrar remain where they are, trying to eliminate as many of the Tahlun as possible before they mob the Invarrian. Breanna however stays back, quietly cursing to herself about why she opened the door.
Maebh's second Flare blasts into the wall, causing the Tahlun to cower against the walls and scream in fear. Kel'Serrar manages to set his arrow on fire but just misses when he shoots. Harold on the other hand runs towards two of the Tahlun which are huddled together against the wall. He gets a critical hit and utterly butchers one of them with his axe.

The other one grabs its rusty knife and attempts to shove it into the dog-man's ribs. Harold avoids the strike. Three more Tahlun attack the Invarrian, two of them hitting him, but both strikes are parried easily by the old duellist, who counters, killing another.

Three Tahlun remain engaged with Harold, while two more huddle in the corner of the room. Maebh attempts to kill those two with another Flare, but she misses, blasting the stone wall yet again. Kel'Serrar shoots and kills one of those two after Maebh's Flare, transfixing it with a flaming arrow. The other one gives a wild scream of pain and anguish before trying to run past the mage and ranger to escape.

Harold has a lot of trouble hitting the little creatures, obviously used to fighting taller opponents. Of the three Tahlun attacking Harold, only one of them hits, but the Invarrian easily parries. The last one, trying to escape, runs straight at Maebh, who braces her spear and leaves it gargling blood upon the stony ground, leaving only the three on Harold.

"Please don't shoot one with a flaming arrow!" - Harold.
"Ok then, I'll shoot one with a normal arrow." - Kel'Serrar muttering to himself.

One of the Tahlun falls with an arrow in the back of its head, killing it instantly, leaving only two. Maebh charges into the fray and between her and Harold they quickly account for the two of them, one of which is more or less decapitated by Harold's torch.

We were left wondering whether this fight consisted of Harold wading in with fire and sword like Strider on Amon Sul, striking down his lesser opponents with great skill, or whether it was really a massive six foot tall dog-man swiping wildly at the child-sized little lizard people shouting, "Go away! Go away!" at the top of his lungs.

It can be seen after the battle that the Tahlun are malnourished and ill, their skin drawn tight across their bones. At first glance the room appears empty but the group swiftly finds five crudely fashioned trapdoors built into the floor. Harold opens the first one and out springs a little Tahlun pup which launches up into Harold's face. There is small panic before they realise that it has dropped to the ground and is dead. Inside the cavity in the ground, they can see many dead pups which look as if they've starved to death.

"The pups must be pretty hungry." - Harold, thinking of his little marcwolf with its head poking out of his pack.

Harold and Breanna feed their pups on some of the little Tahlun pups, the sound of brittle bones snapping in the mouths of the marcwolves punctuating the group's efforts to open the other trapdoors. Three other trapdoors contain more dead Tahlun pups, however one contains a small stash of what the Tahlun considered precious items.

The cavity contains:
Two shortswords which Harold straps to his back leading to the group making comments regarding how Harold is now a walking armoury.
A pair of leather bracers which Harold also picks up.
An old flimsy quiver with 10 arrows for Kel'Serrar.
12 coppers which are split evenly between the party, excluding Maebh.
2 sulvers which Maebh takes, threatening the others with flaming death if they argue.

It took a long time to divide the loot as it really did seem as if no one wanted to take the swords.

Maebh makes a harrowing discovery, finding that a fair few of the dead Tahlun pups seem to have been at least partially eaten already, indicating that the adults had practiced cannibalism to some extent in their starved states.

There is a doorway straight ahead which is to be pushed open, which Harold shoves open with small difficulty. Ahead of the group is a large hallway. Over two hundred paces straight ahead, there can be seen a massive stone gateway. To the right there are two smaller stone doors and to the left there is another. The left door has already been opened. They notice that this doorway has been completely blasted open by magical fire, as evidenced by the black charring around the doorway itself.

The hallway is quite bare, likely having been plundered in the past. The walls however are covered in intricate carvings, many of which appear to be the written form of some unknown language, however a few of the friezes are of a pictorial nature. Maebh and Harold inspect the walls and find that, along with the written inscriptions, the pictures tell a story.

"On this side, the wall shows the rise of these people." - Dev, while inspecting the friezes on the left side of the hallway.
The left wall shows what seems to be the rise of a civilisation as the people, who resemble human children in appearance, began to develop metallurgy and magic along with other technologies. Over time, their structures begin to grow greater and greater, reaching to the sky, towering over all else that had come before.

"Right, well this is their fall. It looks like they switched their type of magic from either Spirit or Arcane magic to Black magic." - Maebh, inspecting the other side.
The right wall shows what happened to these people over time, as they were overcome with a lust for power. Many slipped from practicing the safe magics of spirits and the earth, and into the arts of black magic. Inexperienced summoners began to wreak havoc upon their homeland as the daemons which they tried to bind broke loose. The last frieze shows a barren wasteland.
"So this is a cautionary tale against the use of Black magic." - Harold.

The group's debate is interrupted by what sounds like sobbing from within the blown up room on their left. They stride forwards with weapons ready, Harold at the fore. The room appears to have been set aflame, the stone literally melting and running down the walls. At the end of the room there is, what appears to be, a tunnel, crudely hewn out of the rocky walls. The tracks lead into this tunnel. It also seems as if it is the cause of the sobbing. Harold notices the tunnel appears to have been slowly scratched out by bare hands, as evidenced by the caked blood dried around the mouth. What’s more, the tunnel seems to be more of a short cave, the end of it only five feet back from the wall.

At this point a man comes lurching out from the cave towards Harold, growling and gargling, hands outstretched with fingertips worn down to bone claws. He is quick, but ungainly, gnashing his teeth and assaulting furiously. He wears no armour and few clothes, but seems beyond physical pain, his skin badly charred and burnt, almost rotting on his body.

The Corpsewalker misses with all of its attacks before Breanna attempts to attack it with her new shiny dagger, but fails to do much in the way of damage. Maebh throws a Flare at the creature and sets it on fire, blasting it with a ball of fire. Kel'Serrar's arrow flies across the chamber and strikes the opposite wall. Harold manages to cause a fair bit of damage with his axe, striking its left arm off at the elbow.

Breanna fails to hit it after it flails at Harold wildly, and Maebh blasts another chunk out of it with yet another Flare. Kel'Serrar misses again, before Harold is forced to Parry. He does so, but fails. Luckily his mail shirt is up to the task of negating the damage.
In an attempt to blow it up, Maebh loses control of her magic and finds herself temporarily blinded.
In the end Harold finishes it off with two powerful strikes from both axe and torch, the latter of which sends the Corpsewalker’s crushed head flying off its shoulders. It falls to the ground, dead at last.

Aside from the Corpsewalker afflicted, the room is empty aside from the remains of many creatures, including some humanoids, which appear to have been torn apart and gnawed clean.
After a short discussion about splitting the party, they decide its bad idea.
“If we split up the party, it would be a bad idea, cause we’d be splitting up the party.” – Harold, taken out of context for massive laughs.

They decide to go with the door on the right, furthest from the passageway they entered from earlier. The heavy stone door appears to require pushing open. Harold and Maebh attempt to push the door open, both straining against the hard rock. After minutes of pushing, the stone door slowly swings open. The hallway beyond is exceptionally long, with almost one hundred doorways on either side of the hallway. Each doorway leads into a small room, each with a desk made of stone and a large slab of stone in the corner, likely beds. The rooms seem to be little living areas.

The party spends several hours searching the rooms, but come up mainly empty-handed, finding many ancient books written in an unknown language and a small silver chain, set with a grey stone pendant and set with a single blue sapphire.

Maebh’s issues with blindness pass somewhere in here.

Maebh recognises the pendant as a Focus Stone, which will help her attune to her magic more easily.

An extended break where we laugh at Dev’s awful accents until Lady Darkmoon reminds us that we are still recording. Dev, I will put it up on Youtube for the world to laugh at. Live in fear.


Now, early in the afternoon, the group sits down in the main hall and has lunch. Harold lights a fire using the smashed up lids of two trapdoors from the Tahlun nest.

After lunch, they approach the last doorway. Maebh decides to try and blast it open with her magic. Her attempt does not blast them open, but she does knock a hole in them. Inside, they hear a yell of surprise.

“Now would be a good time to display your charming nature.” – Kel’Serrar to Harold.

“You want him to punch the door?” – I can’t resist.

“Who’s in there?” – Harold, yelling inquisitively if it can be imagined.
“We’re a party from Summer Hill! I take it you aren’t Corpsewalkers?”- The reply from inside.
“No. We’ve been sent from Summer Hill to find you.” – Harold.
The occupants of the room hurry to unbar the door and-
“DIE!!!!” – Dev eliciting much laughter.


The band inside is made up of three Midlanders, a Feartarbh and a Roanfaille, all of which are armed and at least lightly armoured. The party immediately notice that this sort of equipment is not the kind which one would usually find in the possession of townsmen.

Harold can tell just by the way in which one of the Midlanders is standing that the man is a duellist of some skill. Then he realises as the man steps forward with his hand upon his sword, he knows him.
“Harold Oakenshield, we meet again.” – Barnan MacSilver.
He immediately draws his sword.
“This is the last time we shall meet in this life Oakenshield. I owed you a debt last we met, but no more. Draw your sword and test it against mine.” – Barnan MacSilver.
“Can we not wait until we get back to Summer Hill and then sort this all out?” – Harold, remembering he lost the last duel.
“No. This is the last time we meet, Oakenshield.” – Barnan.

Harold looks around the room, taking in the other band.
“Is it alright with you lot if we engage in an honour duel right here?” – Harold.
The general consensus is a “Yeah, alright. If you have to.”

“If you both stay together, this can still be the last time you meet....” – Kel’Serrar, trying to find a loophole.

Silence.....

“As long as you’re both together, you still haven’t ‘technically’ ended this meeting...” – Kel’Serrar.
The Northern duellist is not exactly the cleverest of fellows. His expression darkens. He studies Kel’Serrar with a look of confusion before finally,
“Shut up! We fight today.” – Barnan.
“But-“ – Kel’Serrar.
“SHUT UP!” – Barnan.

Quite a bit of laughter, probably at my horrendous Scottish accent. I usually try to give the characters different voices but I get a bit nervous with the whole group around. I’d do it if it weren’t for Lady Darkmoon. She has a vicious tongue.

Harold takes up his sword and axe.
Barnan in turn is armed with an arming sword and targe and clad in a leather jerkin and rough-spun woollen garments. He draws his sword, readies his small spiky shield and prepares for Harold’s onslaught.
Both parties stand back to allow the two duellists some room.

Barnan is a character of Dev's creation, mentioned in Harold's backstory as a primary antagonist. Harold spared the man's life after they fought the first time, prompting Barnan to do so in turn as a matter of honour upon winning the second duel. He swore then that the next time they faced each other would be the last.

Somehow, their paths have crossed once more.

I made this character very close to Harold in ability and gave him a nasty weapon combination to deal with to make this quite tough. The plan was to have Barnan replace Harold as Dev's character if he won, but I hoped that would not have to happen.

Both of them are equal for three Initiative rolls in a row, taking a fair bit of time to eventually figure out. Harold finally wins out after some circling.
Using his new Duellist skills after levelling up at the end of the last session, Harold finds himself at a slight advantage.

There’s some discussion as to whether or not the others should help Harold. He doesn’t want any due to it being dishonourable to accept help in single combat. The others are happy to “accidentally” blow both of the combatants up. But they are dissuaded from doing so.
Eventually.

Harold opens up with a tearing cut from his axe across the Northman’s chest, which rips through the leather jerkin and into the flesh. Barnan strikes wildly back with his sword, missing but he follows up with his targe, forcing Harold back a few steps but the Invarrian dodges aside from the spike.

The two exchange blows for several minutes, each having difficulty breaking through the other’s defences. Barnan eventually does so, thrusting his sword into the Invarrian twice. After a few more minutes of frantic fighting, Barnan overpowers Harold, causing him to drop his axe. Bleeding from his stab wounds and taking in ragged breaths, Harold jumps back, holding his sword downwards in the signal for respite.

“I need a break.” – Harold, gasping for breath.
“How long do you need?” – Barnan, angry and also breathing heavily.
“Until we stop bleeding.” – Harold, positive towards his friends’ healing abilities, despite all prior experience.
“That’s a substantial break you’re asking for...” – Barnan, hesitant to agree.
“I’d prefer this duel to be decided by one masterstroke as it were, rather than one of us bleeding out.” – Harold, grimly defiant.

I raise the point that bleeding out is sort of the definition of a duel. Everyone bleeds out. It's just blood. Everywhere. Very messy. I have seen this. I have done this. You do not want this.

Kel’Serrar immediately takes his bandages to Harold’s stab wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding. No matter what sort of bandaging is going on, internal injuries are going to need more than just bandages. Even ones made of poison sumac. The hasty first aid helps Harold out, a little at any rate.

There's still more. :) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14585776&postcount=18)

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-24, 11:19 AM
Both combatants having been touched up, Harold and Barnan leap back into the fray, Harold with his two newly acquired shortswords and Barnan with his sword and targe. They circle each other once more before Barnan tries to ram the Invarrian with his shield once more, the dog-man once again side-stepping easily. Harold’s return attack clips the man’s arm, drawing blood but not causing any lasting damage. In return the Northman’s sword cleaves through bandages, chain hauberk and flesh, gashing Harold from shoulder to hip, driving him to his knees. With a roar of pain, the Invarrian drives one of his blades through the Northman’s torso, bearing him to the ground before falling on his side beside him, bleeding profusely. Harold, with the last of his strength crawls over to the fallen Barnan.

“You played a great game my friend. Rest in peace.” – Harold, before closing the dead man’s eyes.

Jokes about how a dying man would be pretty pissed off about having his eyes closed before he dies. “I’m feeling much better!” “It’s just a flesh wound.”
We’re all Monty Python fanatics.


Harold collapses as Barnan breaths his last.

Kel’Serrar prepares to bandage him by dragging the Invarrian off the dead Northman. The other group work towards closing the door up again.

Two groups of murder-hobos locked in a small underground room. This should end well....

The first man they notice is taciturn, tall and seems to be quite strong. He has short black hair of a ragged cut, a short trimmed beard and dark green eyes. He also has a scar which runs from the corner of his left eye to the edge of his jaw and his nose seems badly broken. Bound around his upper right arm is a bloodstained bandage. At his belt hangs a longsword and a bow is slung over his shoulder.

The next is a clean-shaven Midlander, and the leader of the party. His accent betrays a southern heritage, as does his tanned skin. Of middling height, he has long brown hair which is tied back and piercing blue eyes. His nose is prominent, but he seems to be a cheerful and friendly sort of fellow. Clad in grey, he bears a sword and dagger, and despite some rips and tears in his clothing, seems to be unharmed.

They next notice a heavy-set Roanfaille, easily picked as such by his dark skin and prominent red-ink tattoos. Tall, he has long brown hair which is thickly braided and dark eyes. His demeanour screams mercenary, as does his equipment, which is baroque and extravagant. His cheek bears the sigil of a red stallion rampant, which is the mark of one of the clans of the Norbayne Roanfaille. His plate harness is bloodstained, as is the bandage wrapped around his forehead, but he seems to be in little pain.

Lastly, they focus on the massively built Feartarbh. By his shaggy brown coat, it is likely he is from the northern Midlands, so it is possible he comes from around Summer Hill. Built with slabs of muscle on an exceptionally sturdy frame, he bears two massive horns upon his head. These horns coupled with his height necessitate him stooping when inside the ruins to avoid getting entangled or at the very least, making rasping noises as the horns scrape along the bare rock. Despite his size, he seems to be quite gentle, likely at least until his friends are threatened, in which case he would likely put both his horns and his maul to good use.

The other group, who are far more physically impressive. And they seem to be far less stingy with their employer's money.

After some time, Harold manages to fight his way through the haze of pain and finds himself leaning up against a smooth stone wall.
“Who leads you?” – Harold, gasping in pain.
The man in grey steps forward and gives the dog-man and his companions a beaming smile.
“I am Mordra Goldshine, leader of this group. That was brilliantly fought sir.” – Mordra, winking at the grizzled Invarrian.
“Oh, it’s one of those.” – Maebh, in a far too conspicuous whisper.
“Thank you. Now tell me, what’s happening here?” – Harold, wincing in pain.

Mordra informs them that they were sent out to look for a special stone, as Summer Hill is in danger of being taken over by the neighbouring kingdom of Elspeth. So, Petyr Rangard sent them out to look for it. Since then, Corpsewalkers have just spontaneously appeared in the area, flooding the countryside, so the group shut themselves in the room, unable to escape.

“But enough of such matters, what of your own story?” – Mordra.

“We set out from Summer Hill in the morning and came across a ruined carriage on the road which had been set upon by at least one marcwolf. We tracked the beast back to its cave, and killed both of the adults, leaving us with the two pups. During the night we were attacked by bandits, but we fought them off. We found this note on one of their bodies.” – Harold, passing the man the note given to Maebh by the bandit leader.
“I do not recognise the hand, nor the name, but it would probably be to the good to follow it up.” – Mordra, handing the note back.
“The next morning we woke up to the realisation that we didn’t have enough supplies-” – Harold, continuing.

“Shouldn’t that be any supplies?”
“I’m trying to word this positively!” – Dev
“That was the optimistic version of events?”


Harold proceeds to inform the Midlander of the ensuing events. When informed of Maebh’s discovery in the living quarters, Harold’s keen eyes notice that Mordra’s fists slightly clench, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, almost imperceptibly.
An impeccable pass of a Perception check on Harold’s part there.
“And then of course, we couldn’t get through a door and we had to blast our way through.” – Harold.
The two share a laugh, if somewhat pained on Harold’s part.

“Kel’Serrar, I want you to keep an eye on him. But don’t shoot him, not yet anyway.” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar on the side after both leaders have gone to their respective parties.

At this point we get helplessly sidetracked for at least five minutes as a long-standing point of contention is brought up yet again. Lady Darkmoon and I have quite strong South Australian accents, which in my own voice sounds quite whiny and annoying, or sexy, deep and masculine, depending upon whom you bring it up with. This is in stark contrast to the others, who are all Queenslanders.

As such, LD and I both say the word, ‘chance,’ like ‘charnce,’ while the others use what I have termed the American pronunciation. It’s mainly Ladyhawk and I who end up discussing how strange we find each other’s accent, but this time we dragged the others into it, Dev in particular who is a master at the art of the cop-out.

They say ‘mandareen,’ we say ‘mandarin.’ Sins informed us that was a language. Dev said something which sounded like mandrill. I informed him that was a baboon. We have fun. But we all secretly despise each other.
We did attempt to get back to it, mainly through Dev’s efforts, but this was in vain as he mispronounced Ladyhawk’s character’s name (Ray-ve instead of May-ve) and then tried to claim that pronunciation was not important anyway. Yes, Gyeorg. (Bonus points if you can actually guess what his real name is from that phonetic iteration of my mangled pronunciation.)

Back to the action.


“Oh and Maebh, you might want to hide that necklace. Oh and don’t stab them yet either Breanna, we might need them.” – Harold, whispering to Maebh and Breanna.
“Don’t worry, I’ll probably miss anyway.” – Breanna, muttering to herself.

Harold also gives Mordra the letter Rangard gave him. Mordra breaks the seal and reads the letter in a small shard of mirror he fishes out of his backpack. Whatever he reads, he musn’t like it as he crumples it up and turns back to his own group.
“My thanks.” – Mordra, walking back to his own people on the other side of the room.
There is furious whispering and many furtive glances being thrown back at Harold and his companions.

After some conversation, Harold decides to catch some sleep, thinking that the more rest he gets, the quicker he will heal. The rest just lounge around, using the time to recover from an eventful past few days.

While Kel’Serrar sits against one of the walls, the other party’s ranger takes him aside.

"I have somewhat of importance to tell you." – Eradan Blackstar, furtively to Kel’Serrar.

"Just a few days ago, as you know, we were almost overrun by Corpsewalkers. They just came out of nowhere. One day the land was quiet, peaceful. The next we were surrounded by scores of them. We cut down a fair number, but eventually we were forced back and barricaded ourselves in here, slowly running out of supplies as they hammered at our door."
He gives a racking sob which quickly turns into a harsh, thick cough.
"I confess to you that I went down amongst them in the final moments of that battle. I've been bitten. I can feel it welling up within me. I have not long left to live as myself. I would end it myself, but there is something worrying I must share with you. The Southron over there, he was also bitten. I saw it with my own eyes, yet somehow I doubt he has the conviction to end himself." - Eradan Blackstar with a grim smile

"It is far too great a risk to allow us all to live, for you will not know until it is too late that one of them has deceived you. I will help you put them all to the sword. And then you must kill me. It is the only way." - Eradan, deadly serious

“This is too important for me to make the decision right now. Let me inform the others.” – Kel’Serrar.

The others discuss the situation, trying to discern whether or not Eradan is telling the truth. While discussing it, they decide to observe their erstwhile companions and see what sort of armaments they're packing. The Feartarbh is carrying a big two handed maul and wearing rough leathers. Judging by the feathers and charms hanging off him, he's probably a shaman. The Roanfaille bears a scimitar and a tall, unadorned tower shield. He is clad in a chain hauberk and bloodstained plate. In his turn, Goldshine carries a sword and dagger and wears a chain hauberk.

They discuss their chances taking on the other party head on.
"We can't win, can we?" - Maebh, shaking her head.
"I agree with your assessment regarding our chances of success." - Harold, blinking sleep out of his eyes.
"They're too well armed." - Maebh.
"Yes." - Harold, nodding. "We need more information. Kel'Serrar, you are skilled at healing. They are injured. I think you should offer your services. And then you get to see their wounds."

There's a reason he was elected as leader.

They decide that as a contingency they should run outside. They consider Kel'Serrar conducting his 'check-ups' out in the corridor where its more easily defended, or perhaps outside on the horse-drawn wagon so they can outrun them if there's any hostility. Not that the poor horse could outrun anything in a serious chase while loaded down with four people and their supplies.

They discuss how long they should stay in the ruins as their supplies are running low. They then discuss how long they have before they will need to kill the others. They find out from Blackstar, who might not be a completely reliable source of information on this matter, that they have maybe two days more before the other party starts succumbing to the virus.

Breanna suggests having one of the players offer to take sentry duty for the night and then go kill all of the other group while they sleep, something which makes perfect sense for the assassin, however the others are a bit hesitant, not wanting to kill any innocents.

Maebh then suggests to Kel'Serrar that he should check out Blackstar's wound so the ranger has a good idea what to look for when he checks over the other party.

After a bit more discussion, Kel'Serrar heads over to the other party who are keeping to themselves over in a corner.
"I see some of you bear injuries. I have some skill at healing. Perhaps I may be of assistance?" - Kel'Serrar, guileless as possible.
The other party looks at him warily, but they can't refuse free treatment. Mordra Goldshine eventually nods.
"Our thanks I guess. Where do you want to do this, friend?" - Goldshine.
"Well, we've set up camp here and leaving might be dangerous. Might as well do it here." - Kel'Serrar.

He gets to work. The Roanfaille refuses to let Kel'Serrar take off his hauberk, so the ranger is unable to inspect his torso and upper arms, however there are plenty of exposed scratches, including a cut on the man's head which looks to be becoming infected, which Kel'Serrar cleans and bandages.

The massive Feartarbh on the other hand is happy to let the Danann at his wounds, and has at least three bites on his body. In addition to this he is covered in scratches and other injuries.

Mordra comes over and seems fine at first, but his bravado dies down once he gets close to the ranger and is forced to remove his armour, revealing a massive bite mark on his shoulder.

While this is happening Harold tries to find a staff to lean on, eventually deciding on Maebh's spear, which she grudgingly hands over.

After the check-ups, Harold then takes Mordra outside the room to the massive stone doorway at the end of the main hall, hoping to have a private word.
"Do you have any idea how to open this? - Harold, leaning heavily on Maebh's spear. His exertions from the duel earlier have taken a lot out of him.

The rest he managed to gather and Kel'Serrar's ministrations have helped considerably, but he's still getting around on very little health. Breanna's has improved somewhat over time, as has Kel'Serrar's, but that being said, neither of them had that much to begin with. Maebh on the other hand, is still running around with minimal burns from her two magical backlashes.

"Actually, I have the key." - Mordra, pulling said key out a pocket.
The key is a small, shield shaped block of stone with an unidentified gem set into it.
"Sparkly?" - Lady Darkmoon
"Pretty?" - Ladyhawk, practically simultaneously.
"Can you open it then?" - Harold.
"No, I don't know what's in there. We've heard some unnatural noises." - Mordra, shaking his head and putting the key back in his pocket.
"Well then, I think I'll go back to Summer Hill with my companions and come back with more men so we can take on whatever is in there. In the meantime, I think you should barricade yourselves again in the room we're staying in at the moment." - Harold.
"Well now you're with us, we should go back with you! We were only in there because we couldn't risk trying to break through the horde. But they've all disappeared, and now you're all here. We might as well all get out together." - Mordra.
"Uh-oh." - Lady Darkmoon.
Harold thinks for a bit, furiously trying to come up with a way to stall for time.

I can barely hear what Dev says here because he mumbles something awful, but it sounded like, "Before we leave, we need more information.""Before we leave, we need more information. My compatriots will take this corridor, and you can take the room. We'll barricade ourselves in and you do the same." - Harold, indicating the abandoned living quarters for his own group.
Mordra agrees to this plan, nodding, and then strides back into the room, leaving Harold to hobble as best he can.

Upon making it back to the room, Harold discusses the plan with his companions, having them relocate to the living quarters. They decide quickly that there is no one in Summer Hill which would be able to help them. They then consider using the levers at the doorway at the beginning to lay a trap, however they soon realise that this is just not possible.
Lady Darkmoon suggests using poison sumac to kill them, slowly choking them to death with their own bandages. The idea is quickly shot down as poison sumac is not available.
"So why not use normal sumac?" - Ladyhawk, with a laugh.


They eventually decide that procrastinating is not getting them anywhere. It is mid-afternoon, when Harold hobbles back to the doorway of the room and asks Mordra to come out, who refuses. Harold demands the key, but the Midlander lays his hand on his sword and tells the Invarrian to take it from him.

Harold walks outside, requesting his group comes outside to the wagon with him. All of them are now outside. Breanna and Harold deposit their marcwolf pups in the wagon, giving them a quick pat on the head and a small piece of dried meat to keep them satisfied.

Maebh considers blasting apart the doorway with her magic in order to cause the whole thing to come crashing down.

"There are footsteps coming from the tunnel behind us." - Maebh, hearing footsteps.

Harold immediately directs everyone into positions. Kel'Serrar stands above the doorway with an arrow nocked to his bow and Breanna and Maebh stand on either side of the door. Harold himself stands, leaning on Maebh's spear, in front of the wagon, the only person in view of whoever comes out of the tunnel.

A running Eradan Blackstar comes racing out of the tunnel, a slight limp barely noticeable in his gait.
"You aren't leaving are you?" - Eradan, gasping with pain.
"No." - Harold.
"Ah good. I was worried. I can't kill them all by myself." - Eradan.
"Could you possibly tell me the story again please, for my benefit?" - Harold.

So the ranger, bewildered, relates the story once more, detailing his own injuries and the Roanfaille's wound too. He explains that he hasn't killed himself yet, because he can't countenance leaving these lands in such danger, knowing that the others would not have the dignity to kill themselves.

To Harold's eyes, the man is severely stressed, which could be because he is lying, however the story does match up with what Kel'Serrar told him earlier.

"Alright then, Eradan, new plan. Run back in there and tell them I have changed my mind and we are leaving. And then get back out here." - Harold.
"Ok then, I'll be the first one out. I'll make sure." - Eradan, nervous.
He heads back inside.

Maebh readies two Flares, one in either hand. Breanna stands ready with her dagger and Kel'Serrar sets fire to his arrow, holding it ready. Harold meanwhile simply braces his borrowed spear.
They hear running footsteps from the tunnel and Harold can see Eradan running out, looking rather terrified. From inside comes a wild roar and out rushes...
The Roanfaille. Chasing the Midlander ranger with his sword and shield in hand.

Some discussion about whether or not it is acceptable to call him black. This is the man they are considering blowing apart with fireballs. I personally don't think the fictional character cares whether or not they insult him.

Maebh lets loose with both Flares, one singeing him and the other blasting into his abdomen, putting a great dent into his armour and leaving him smoking and writhing in pain on the ground.

Breanna finally gets to put her backstabbing skills to good use, almost sawing off his head while trying to slit his throat.
"Yay, I'm so happy!" - Lady Darkmoon.

Then out comes the Feartarbh....
"****...." - Practically everyone, more or less simultaneously.

Manius Longhorn comes out of the tunnel and sees the partially decapitated corpse of his friend lying on the ground, with the dagger-wielding Leathe assassin next to him. He hefts his maul, but not before Kel'Serrar looses his arrow.
He misses something awful.
"Can I throw her spear?" - Harold.
"If you break my spear, I'll kill you!" - Maebh, furious.
Harold hurls Maebh's spear at the Feartarbh, sending the heavy blade ripping through the shaman's chest. He's not dead. He roars in pain and turns his attention from Breanna towards Harold instead. On the other hand, to do so involves going through the Leathe.

She manages to tuck and roll out of the way. Just.

But now he's really angry and is running towards Harold.
"Oh thank the gods." - Breanna, very thankful.
The shaman tries to use his magic to call down a heatwave in the immediate area, but fails to do so.
Maebh tries to hit him with a Flare, but her magic causes some problems again, burning her slightly, but still hitting the Feartarbh with the ball of flame. It doesn't distract him from his target.

Harold stands his ground before the raging eight foot tall Feartarbh, thinking to grasp the spear in its chest and twist it out of his body.


And then we had to call it quits cause Sins had to go.
So we left it there.

The Wrap-Up:

What a bloody cliffhanger. :smallbiggrin:

Still, we'll get to see what happens tonight. Whether or not Harold manages to survive the literal bullrush. :smallwink:

Sorry that took so long to sort out, but I've been quite busy and then had some technical difficulties tonight when I temporarily lost the last half hour or so of the recording.

Anyway, cheers everyone, hope you all enjoyed 1.2.

Amidus Drexel
2013-01-24, 11:32 AM
Cool!

That's an interesting development, what with the other party being walking Corpsewalkers-to-be.

*waits attentively for the next session*

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-24, 11:49 AM
Well hopefully you won't have too long to wait. I'm going to America for about a week fairly soon, so I'll have plenty of time to work on the write-up.

That is if I have access to a computer there, which is not guaranteed. :smallfrown:

Thanks for reading, hope it was worth the wait. :smallsmile:

ReaderAt2046
2013-01-24, 02:00 PM
SQUEE!! Want more story! Want more cute stabby possum squeegle! SQUEE!!:smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-26, 10:45 AM
Okay then, I think it went rather well, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and Sins told me as we were packing up that we were in a good campaign.

I think I shall take that as the highest compliment I could possibly get. :smallwink:

Before we get to it, Ladyhawk did actually get her interview to me the morning before the game. So I present here, an interview with Maebh Preachain-Eite.

Your eyes open and before you is a tall, kindly looking old man with a long grey beard and weatherbeaten skin. He stands before you clad in a dark grey robe and bearing a carved wooden staff. He nods in greeting, shifting his weight upon his staff and pulls out a wooden board with a piece of parchment on it and a quill.
"Welcome Maebh, it is good to see you awake. I have some questions to ask of you my girl." Truly he is many ages older than you.

"Let us begin. Do you know if your father still lives? What do you think happened to him?"
"I do not know if my father still lives, for when I was very young he left on a hunting trip and neither he or his companions ever returned. No one knows what happened that night, however some of my tribe believe it was a monster from legend, which was said to roam the forests in which we live. The Diabhal."

A picture Ladyhawk supplied to give an idea of what the Diabhal is said to look like.
http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111031200240/shipoffools/images/b/b7/Wendigo.jpg

The old man looks concerned, scribbling notes on his parchment. What actually happened to your brother?"
"When he undertook the Harrowing, my brother was involved in an unlucky accident with a marcwolf. But that's just the way it works."

"Your packmates from your Harrowing would still be quite young. What would they think of you? Of the five of you who went through it together, how many of them survived your Harrowing?"
"Only two of us suvived the Harrowing. None of my packmates thought much of me. Magic is not well recieved among my people on a general basis. They only stayed with me because they knew it was their best chance for survival.


He nods and continues. "Do you think that you have been followed to Summer Hill by other Danann?"
"Only one would follow me. And I hope I never have to see his face again."

"And finally, tell me, what is your relationship with Kel'Serrar? As another Danann, are you wary of him?"
"I have no feelings for Kel'Serrar. He is merely a part of the group. No more. No less."

"Thank you for your time lass. You may go back to sleep now." Darkness overtakes you and you fall back into a deep slumber.


Alrighty then, first up as a reward for being the first to complete her interview, I granted Lady Darkmoon a free roll on the General Traits table, which garnered Breanna the Sturdy Trait, which came in surprisingly handy later in the session, allowing her to re-roll a single failed Strength or Toughness Check every day.

And then as a reward for the sheer effort he put into it, I granted Sins a free choice from the Traits he had available as a Danann. He ended up choosing the Coolheaded General Trait, allowing Kel'Serrar to re-roll a single failed Intelligence Check every day.

I then refreshed everyone on where they stood, namely with their half dead leader being charged by a raging bull man with a spear in it.

And then we got into the game, but information on that will have to wait. I just thought I''d give you the preamble now. :smallsmile:

Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2013-01-27, 09:12 AM
Wow, you've got an artist sister and an artist girlfriend/maybe-a-fiancee:smallsmile:? Good for you! Also, great story and WANT MORE CUTE STABBY POSSUM GIRL!

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-27, 10:50 AM
Wow, you've got an artist sister and an artist girlfriend/maybe-a-fiancee? Good for you! Also, great story and WANT MORE CUTE STABBY POSSUM GIRL!

That painting was just something Ladyhawk found on Google, but I can see if I can post up the picture she drew in the first session of a plow-horse which everyone uses to taunt LD with. :smalltongue: For that matter Ladyhawk has drawn portraits of both Harold and Breanna while we've been playing.

Only Dev seems to try and take my campaign seriously. :smallbiggrin:

I'm trying to make sure that the third session is typed up and available before I go to America. Which is why I'm awake at two in the morning again I guess.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-28, 09:58 AM
Session 1.3: Exploration in the Black Pit

Welcome back everyone, :smallsmile:

This session was delayed for almost an hour while we waited for Dev to show up. And once we started Dev tried to jump on BloodBowl for a game and the two girls wouldn't get off their iPods. It all got better eventually and we got into it.

Dev changed his mind regarding what he was going to do with his action. He considers throwing his axe at the Feartarbh, but thinks better of it, deciding throwing Breanna at it might be a better idea. He quickly finds out that she is not close at hand.

As an aside, this might be the first time I have ever been forced to say that the minotaur is between you and the possum you want to throw at it.

Harold takes up his axe and sword and stands ready before it.

He did think about charging it, prompting me to say, "I thought grabbing the spear out of it was stupid."
"Why not though? He is barking mad." - Sins


Kel'Serrar tries to shoot it but misses from his vantage point on top of the doorway.

Breanna meanwhile just stands where she rolled aside to, despite Harold's frantic requests for help.

Turning around, Eradan Blackstar draws his sword and stands beside Harold, ready to take the shaman's charge.

The Feartarbh crashes into Harold and his new-found friend. Despite a negative to his Agility, Harold manages to sidestep, but Blackstar is not so lucky, taking the Feartarbh's massive horns in the stomach and is thrown to the ground, choking on blood. Longhorn then tries to hit Harold with his maul, but Harold is slightly too quick for the huge weapon.

Maebh blasts two flaming craters into the Feartarbh's back, finally bringing him down.

You need to remember that he already took a fair bit of damage from her earlier attack and Harold's spearthrow. :smallwink:

Thanks to her Talents, Maebh's Destruction spells are now significantly buffed. Flares are now doing D10+ about 5 Damage for Maebh, not including the burning Damage the fire spells inflict.

Maebh strides over to the dead Feartarbh, ignoring Harold's frantic shouts to stay in position. She compromises by going over there anyway and grabbing her spear, but then starting to walk back to her spot.

Failed Perception Checks all round.

An arm tightens in a vice-like grip around Breanna's neck and a swordblade held to her throat.

"Now you're all going to let me go, or we'll all see what colour her blood is." - Mordra, using the Leathe as a shield.
"We've already seen it!" - Maebh, stalling for time as she sees that, critically, Goldshine has not noticed Kel'Serrar standing above him.
"Ok, you want to cut her throat. Why should we care?" - Harold.
"Hey!" - Breanna, indignant.
"I'm role-playing!" - Dev.
"So am I!" - Lady Darkmoon.
"Do you realise you're going to be a mindless walking corpse in a few days!?" - Harold.
"No I won't be!" - Mordra, in denial.
"You're in denial!" - Maebh, still stalling.

There is some discussion here where Ladyhawk gets slightly confused regarding in-game and out-of-game relationships and Dev suggests that he, as Harold, doesn't really care about whether or not Breanna carks it.

In the interest of fostering inter-party spirit I point out that they have known each other for about a week now and have fought together.
"Well, he fought and I watched." - LD
"Not helping!"

Harold tries to subtly hobble over with his sabre drawn.
"No further! I want to get out of here alive. Stand aside!" - Goldshine, frantic.

An opportunity here for Breanna to finally use her magic. We finally get to see the power of Black Magic.

Arm against her throat, Mordra doesn't realise Breanna going slightly limp as she focusses on calling up the daemon within her, nor the subsequent tensing as she starts to squeeze the power out of the daemon she has trapped.

A successful Calling Check to trap a Level 1 daemon, garnering her 6 Power Dice she has available to use until she releases the daemon back into the Otherworld. She uses three of these to power her spell. This was far more than she needed, but she wanted to be sure of getting the required casting value.

A thunderous catamount wailing erupts from the tunnel behind Goldshine.

Lady Darkmoon cast Phantom Noise, asking specifically for the "roar" of a mountain lion.

The wailing shrieking meow startles Goldshine, prompting him to weaken his grip around Breanna's throat. She bites his hand and he lets go of her, letting her fall to the ground. Seeing that Breanna is on the ground at her assailant's feet, Maebh refrains from casting a Flare at him as Harold, standing in front of the wagon and draught horse, considers his options.

"Can I cut the horse and smack it on the arse so it charges forward?" - Dev figuring out what he can do.
"Excuse me, that's my horse." - Ladyhawk enraged.
"Smack it on the butt with the flat of my blade..." - Dev, not following her point of contention.
"After you cut it..." - Me, pointing out the obvious.
"Oh I meant whatever's tying it to the cart." - Dev.
"But then you wouldn't be able to tie it back up."
"Fine, untie it then." - Dev.
"If the horse dies, you're pulling the cart." - Ladyhawk.

Harold manages to free the horse from the yoke of the wagon.

Successful Dexterity Check to do it in time.

"11, I mean 12, I mean 21... 17." - Dev getting thoroughly confused reading out the result of the D100 roll. We all laughed, even Dev.
"I'm just shouting out random numbers by this stage!" - Dev, mocking himself.

The horse stands there and looks at him, as if to say, "Thank you."
"Can I slap it on the arse now?" - Dev.
Harold smacks the horse's rump with the flat of his blade and sends the draught horse bolting in a straight line towards the doorway. However it is not by any stretch a trained warhorse, so it shies away from the armed man and stands next to the doorway, skittish and wary of both Harold and the dark doorway.

Mordra attempts to attack the prone Leathe who manages to roll away from his wild sword strokes. Kel'Serrar then sends an arrow into the top of the Midlander's head, burying it to the fletching through his skull and into his neck. Goldshine falls to the ground, very dead.

Upon the Midlander's death, Maebh goes to comfort the horse and hitch it back up to the wagon.

And everyone goes up a level! And there was much rejoicing....
Quite a bit happened, but for continuity I'll keep it brief here and give details in the Wrap-Up at the end of the session. Suffice to say for now, Breanna picked up two new spells, Maebh got Fireball, Wall of Blades and some other stuff, Kel'Serrar a bunch of archery based Talents and Harold a bunch of Stat increases. There was obviously a lot more to it, but that's all you need to know for now.

The other party is now all dead. The only one which is not completely dead is Eradan Blackstar who is lying in great agony upon the ground not far from where Harold is standing. Harold goes over to the wounded man and kneels beside him.

"Is there any way you particularly want to die?" - Harold, steeling himself for what must be done.
*Incomprehensible choking noises of pain* - Blackstar, who has, let's face it, been momentarily impaled by about three feet of Feartarbh horn.
"Alrighty then." - Ladyhawk, mock cheerful.

Then follows, in hindsight, what might be the strangest conversation I have ever been part of. Dev puts forward that he should stab him in the chest, something Ladyhawk contests, believing his head should be struck off to make it quick.

Instead of the usual points of contention, namely the desecration of the corpse that course of action entails, Dev counters with the fact that decapitation is not a "big thing" in most cultures, whatever that means. Sins and I then point out that decapitation was in fact, a very common form of execution throughout the ages of our world. This goes on for many minutes, before Dev relents.

Harold takes up his sword and partially decapitates the mortally wounded ranger, leaving the head attached by a scrap of skin as a mark of respect.

In reality a Japanese tradition if my memory serves me correctly, however in Norbayne it seems like a Danann notion.

While he does this, Breanna releases the daemon she has harnessed within her.

It is late in the afternoon and the party then sets about to the main business of the day: Looting the dead.

Once again, for continuity's sake I'll condense the looting here and make the details known in the Wrap-Up at the end. The important thing to know is that Maebh manages to obtain more than her fair share of money again.

Harold goes through Mordra's belongings and finds the letter from Petyr Rangard, reading it in the man's mirror.
I know what you planned to do. The deal is off.

"Hey, friends come listen to this." - Harold. He then reads the letter.
"What?" - Breanna.
"That's it." - Harold.
"You're joking. We don't get our money?" - Maebh, despondent.
"No, no. They don't get their money." - Harold.
"Oh good." - Maebh, satisfied. She then turns to Mordra's corpse. "Ha ha, we get yours too."
"Well we've done our job. Our job was to contact them." - Harold, summing everything up.
"So now we just have to find the guy who owes us money, I suppose?"- Maebh.
"Admit it, you're curious. You want to find out what's behind that big door don't you?" - Kel'Serrar.
"I do!" - Harold. "Okay then, people, let's do this."
"Well we've got the key now. It's currently in the hands of our assassin." - Kel'Serrar, indicating that the shield-shaped stone was pilfered by the light-fingered Breanna after Goldshine's unfortunate run-in with Kel'Serrar's arrow.
"So all we need to do is convince her to unlock the door."- Kel'Serrar.

Harold pulls forth a torch from his pack.
"Let's do this." - Harold. He then holds his torch out to Maebh expectantly, who lights it with a conjured flame from her hand.
He takes a few steps and realises that he needs some extra support. So he finds Longhorn's maul in the tray of the wagon and hacks off the head, fashioning a long oaken walking staff for himself.

"You can even rename yourself Harold Oakenstaff!"
Silence...
"Don't."

They head inside. Both Kel'Serrar and Maebh halt at the doorway to the Main Hallway, both of them preparing actions. Kel'Serrar has an arrow nocked while Maebh has her Wall of Blades spell readied. Harold and Breanna move forwards until, at the centre of the room Harold stops. With a small hesitation, Breanna creeps toward the indent in the wall where the key needs to be placed.

There is a lot of fear that there's a hell of a lot of Corpsewalkers inside the doorway. So the plan is for Breanna to open the door and then scamper back with Harold behind Maebh who will bring up her Wall of Blades to hinder whatever is chasing them.

In Dev's words, discretion will be the better part of valour.

Ladyhawk raises a good point when Breanna reaches the centre of the room. How is the little Leathe going to open the massive stone doors? They discuss it for a bit before deciding that their best bet is to just place the key into position and see what happens.

Breanna places the shield-shaped key into the indent and gives the gem set into the key a slight press. The doors slowly but surely grind open.

She bolts for it, back to the relative safety of the two Danann.

The massive doorway reveals a huge black expanse before Harold, who walks towards it. Once upon the threshold, the flames of his torch reveal an elevated stone platform almost one hundred yards from the floor with two huge staircases leading down on either side. Almost two hundred yards from the base of the stairs is what appears to be a congregation of people bearing torches. It is unlikely they are Corpsewalkers as they are bearing torches, but Harold can't tell from where he is standing.

"Come over here." - Harold, beckoning the others over to the doorway. Maebh and Kel'Serrar stride over, Breanna a little more hesitantly.

The others suggest that Breanna go in under the cover of Shadowskin and scout out the chamber. With much grumbling, she attempts to call up another daemon and succeeds. She feels the same daemon as before start to well up within her, but it manages to slip free before she can properly get ahold of it. Using the power it granted her, she tries to cast but fails.

"Well you are an assassin. How about you just sneak in and stay out of the light?" - Harold.

"You remember what happened last time she tried that?" - Kel'Serrar. I'm not actually sure what he's referring to here but it was still funny.
"Oh yeah..." - Harold, turning to Breanna, "Go for it."

Shrugging, she tries to call up a daemon once more. This time she goes for a more powerful individual, but she loses control for a split second. A ghastly face made of orange light materialises in the air before her and emits a silent shriek before vanishing.

Panting, she tries once again. In her haste, she calls up the one from earlier. This time she gets a proper hold of him and manages to siphon off a significant amount of magical energy. The daemonic energy courses through her and hides her in a veil of shadows. In the uncertain light, the others lose track of her and Harold feels a light breeze on the back of his calf accompanied by very light footsteps.

"Drop my money now!" - Harold, indignant.
She has not stolen his money, but she specifically tells me she wanted to blow on his calf to freak him out.

With a quiet, unseen laugh she descends invisibly into the darkness.

Once down the stairs and upon the main floor, she creeps forward to see what she can. Staying outside the meagre light afforded by the torches, Breanna hides in the shadows and takes note of what she sees.

There is a ring of people, clad in dark red hooded robes, each bearing a torch in their hands and an identical curved knife at their wastes. They are all chanting in unison. The Leathe listens carefully and she cannot make out the words, nor the language used, but the tone is one of adoration, worship.

After her spying mission, Breanna heads back to the rest of the party, making a weird croaking noise in the back of her throat to try and freak the others out.
"Kill it with fire!" - Harold.
Before they can swing, Breanna begins to laugh and she reappears between them.

"My response is condescension." - Sins.
"I am being condescending. Condescension, condescension, condescension." - Dev, with a laugh.
I was sure Dev was going to say condensation. "I will spray drops of water at you!"

We move onwards.

"There was a group of people, not half-dead people, but people-people holding torches and chanting something in a language I could not understand. But it was not aggressive, it was kind of.... worshippy." - Breanna.

"And I do not care if that was illiterate. That is how you use the term illiterate Dev." - LD to much laughter. "Illiterate: To not be literate."
"PG, how fond are you of your little sister?" - Dev.
"Very fond. Do not kill me." - LD.
"Uh... Moderately."
"MODERATELY!?" - LD, enraged.
"So if I give her a quick death you'd be alright with that?" - Dev, questioning.
"No, slow and drawn out. I want to be able to say good-bye."
We wouldn't hurt her. Not permanently anyway. :smalltongue:

Later I brought the matter to LD's attention that her use of the word illiterate was incorrect too. She brought another matter to my attention, namely that she did not care as she got a laugh at Dev's expense and that was all that mattered.

There is some debate as to whether or not it's worth going in there altogether. Eventually they decide to do so.

"Maebh, wait up here by the door with that Blade Wall ready." - Harold.
Maebh nods.
"Alright then, Maebh stay here, Kel'Serrar with me." - Harold. He then turns to Breanna. "You do whatever you like cause you're pretty much useless in a fight."
Breanna smiles and nods sheepishly.

This exchange was quite amusing given what is to come.

That's all for now, more to come. :smallbiggrin: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14607653&postcount=26)

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-28, 10:14 AM
And here we go again, the last half of Session 1.3

Harold attempts to approach the group subtly.
The group throws synonyms at Dev for almost a minute here as he tries to describe his manner of movement.
"Succinctly is not the right word..." - Dev.
"Stealthily?" - Sins.
"Discretely?" - Ladyhawk.
"Sneakily?" - Sins, channelling some Gollum.
"Quietly?" - Dev.

This continued for way longer than it had to before he finally settled on subtly. Not that it really mattered, but at least by now I had a really good idea of how he was walking.

Breanna uses the harnessed daemon within her to re-cast Shadowskin. She has to struggle to hold onto it and ends up having to let go of the entity, but she manages to cast. Just.

As she hides herself, both Breanna and Harold hear that the chanting is getting stronger and louder as the cult gets closer to the end of their ritual. There is a massive flash of light in the middle of the congregation.

Failed Common Knowledge: Black Magic Check from Breanna.

Something is being summoned. Whatever it is, it is trapped within some sort of magical cage.

The cultists around it appear jubilant, cheering their success until the entity begins to fight against its bonds. With some panicked shouts, the robed figures dismiss the daemon before it can break through.

Do not read this if you are one of the players.

This is a very powerful daemon which the cult is trying to harness for an, as yet, unknown purpose. It takes a hell of a lot to call and then bind a daemon of such magnitude. To give an idea, the more powerful daemon which Breanna could not control was a Level 2. This is more akin to Level 20. It's about as close to an actual god as Norbayne could get.

After it is dismissed there is some quiet talking between the cultists which cannot be heard by the party. Then many magical doors appear in the air and the cult trickles away, leaving four "priests" behind, who begin to work magic upon where the attempted binding took place.

One is quite tall, one is quite short and the other two are of middling height.

"I'll take the short one, you get the tall one." - Breanna to Harold.
"I was actually going to suggest that you try and sneak around them as quietly as you can." - Harold in reply.
"Yep. That's good for me." - Breanna nodding in agreement.
"You can shoot them from here I take it?" - Harold to Kel'Serrar.
The Danann nods and has an arrow nocked and ready.

Breanna meanwhile begins her quiet journey around to the rear of the cultists, knives ready in the darkness as Harold strides confidently towards the group, making sure that if they notice anyone, it will be him.

As she gets closer, Breanna can hear them talking. Two are Midlanders, one is a Northmann and the last is a Selkye, all of whom are clad in the dark red hooded robes of their cult. The Selkye is quite old, his sparse hair and long, drooping moustache are grey with age, while the Northmann is of middling age with a long, dark beard and the two Midlanders are younger.

The Northmann appears to be the leader of this group, but judging by the deference the others show him, the Selkye seems to be a high-ranking member of perhaps a sister cult. However the Northmann and the Selkye seem to have a slightly antagonistic relationship as they have a few minor disagreements.

The four of them continue to talk amongst themselves and Breanna is able to gather that they are planning to destroy Summer Hill from within. As Harold gets closer, one of the Midlanders looks up and sees the flickering torchlight.

"Brothers! Are you there?" - Midlander cultist, fearfully.

Harold's figure becomes more recognisable as he comes closer.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" - Northmann cultist, angry.
"I thought this was an abandoned cave. Which I could loot." - Harold, trying to talk his way out of it.

I think Dev expected me to roll here to see if he deceived them. But honestly, who the hell would buy that story?

The massive Northmann, who stands at a comparable height to the six foot tall Harold walks up to the Invarrian, his hands crackling with daemon-fire.

"We can't let you leave her now."- Northmann cultist, threatening.
"Dun dun dun duh!" - LD
"But why? I just wandered in here. I wanted to ask you the way out." - Harold, changing his story in an attempt to charm them.
"You've seen too much. There's no getting out now." - Northmann cultist.
"What do you mean? I didn't see anything. I just heard you talking." - Harold, in his panic admitting that he was listening.
"In which case you have head too much." - Northmann cultist, reaching out towards Harold with his flaming hands.

As he does so, his fingers lengthen into "massive-bone-scythe-flaming-claws".
As an aside, try saying "massive-bone-scythe-flaming-claws" five times and really fast. We tried. And generally failed.

Harold leans back and swings his staff at the Northmann but his earlier wound slows him down and the Northmann uses a very interesting parrying technique, namely holding up his "massive-bone-scythe-flaming-claws" and shearing through the wood of Harold's staff, depriving it of about a foot and a half of its length. Harold dodges back as fast as he can but his eyes are confused by the flickering flame passing in front of his eyes and he dropped his torch upon the ground to help him swing his staff better. Even so he manages to evade the cultists' strikes for now.

Hearing the commotion, Maebh rushes in through the doorway and to the top of the stairs, still with her Wall of Blades at the ready. A glowing wall of bluish-purple magical blades grounds itself in front of Harold. Both the Invarrian and the Northmann fall back, desperately avoiding the blades. Ten yards long, it doesn't prevent Breanna from going around it.

Of the other three cultists, the older of the two Midlanders disappears through one of their portable doors, while the younger one stays with the Selkye elder. With a crackling of magic, the elder then begins to mentally fight with Maebh over control of the Blade Wall. It is a huge strain, but the Danann manages to maintain control over it for now.

Breanna can see in the light provided by the cultists' torches that the Selkye is astounded at finding someone who can match him in sheer willpower and beads of sweat are trickling down his forehead from the strain.

Staying in the shadows, the Leathe assassin swiftly creeps around the Midlander and strikes the Selkye from behind, slashing deeply into his throat.

Finally Breanna succeeds in using her insanely buffed Sneak Attack, causing the most damage in a single attack in the campaign so far at a whopping 24.

He falls forward onto the ground with his throat a bloody mess. The Midlander heard the noise of the knife slitting the elder's throat, followed by his gurgling death rattle.

"Master!" - Midlander cultist, running over to the dead Selkye. He then crouches next to the corpse, head bowed and sobbing. Crucially he is doing so right in front of Breanna.

Harold stands on the opposite side of the wall to the hulking, demonically clawed Northmann.
"Are you the child of a man I sliced the head off up in Unterguardt? Cause he was hilarious when he was dying." - Harold, drawing his sword. Not the best taunt he's come up with.

Interestingly enough, this Northmann is not actually from Unterguardt himself, his family having shifted to the Northlands before he was born. Despite this, Harold's remark incenses him. We can never know, but it is likely he had a child who was killed in an Invarrian raid, a common occurrence in the Northlands of Norbayne. It probably had nothing to do with Harold Oakenshield at all, but he is very angry.

The earth beneath Harold's feet begins to shake and rumble.

"Oh ****." - Harold.

"You insulted a mage, genius." - Sins
"Actually, I believe you have insulted a warlock."
"Oh great. I hate you." - Dev, to me.
"Hey, you did this. I hate you." - Ladyhawk with a laugh.

They hear a groaning noise from within the ground and Harold makes a split second decision to try and leap to the side. Not a moment too soon as a black, cavernous hole simply rips open in the floor of the chamber.

Focussing her magic, Maebh prepares a Fireball. She must be a bit tired though, for her magic backlashes slightly, leaving Maebh herself smouldering. Her fireball, fuelled with all the power she can give it crashes into her Wall of Blades. All is silent before a blinding magical explosion propels everyone outwards from the centre of the impact.

I described it as a mini-supernova which emitted a pulse of blinding light.

Once again do not read this if you are one of the players.

There are two main reasons why this happened. The first was how long she had the Blade Wall readied. When combined with her newly-found Focus Stone, that meant that the Wall was VERY powerful. Secondly, she miscast her Fireball. The fact that she lost control of the magic meant that she attempted to use more power in casting it than she should have. So now you know.

Of them all, only Kel'Serrar doesn't hide his eyes in time.

Everyone had to get under Initiative to hide their eyes. Failure would mean at least temporary blindness. Kel'Serrar's Initiative is currently 31. Sins rolled a 32.

There was much bemoaning of his bad luck.

I played it out that he managed to close his eyes just before the blinding light burned his retinas out of his face and caused permanent damage. He'd be blinking the after-images out of his eyes for a few hours, but no lasting ill-effects.

Despite this, he doesn't loose the arrow he had nocked, holding on to it despite the shock and blinding light he experiences for the second before he manages to close his eyes.

Both Harold and the Northmann are thrown back a considerable distance, the cultist sprawling against the wall. The Blade Wall now has a gaping hole in it.

Kel'Serrar, half-blind, sets his arrow aflame and instinctively shoots the Northmann through the gap in the Blade Wall.

"The Blind Man sees!" - Dev.

In one of the most amazing shots of his life, Kel'Serrar smashes the arrow into the crazy Northmann warlock's chest. Shaking off the impact and the magical explosion, he gets very, very, very angry.

"Can't you just be very, very, very dead?" - Harold.

It was repeated so many times on the night that I promised it would make it into the write-up. The blind man shot him. Indeed. The blind man shot him.

There was some suggestion that perhaps Kel'Serrar should go around with a blindfold from now on.

Meanwhile back in front of Breanna.

"Master, wake up!" - Distressed Midlander cultist.

Breanna attempts to slit the man's throat, but he hears a slight rustle of clothing and tries to stand up. In the struggle, the hilt of her dagger gets caught in his throat and he falls to the ground unconscious.

Harold staggers up and starts to lope, limping as he goes to try and attack the Northmann as the warlock gets up. He sees the running Invarrian and attempts to throw a ball of flaming razor-wire. Razor-fire if you will. Dev patted my head condescendingly at this point. I actually thought razor-fire was a good term. It certainly got across the danger involved. The ball unravels as it flies through the air, catching Harold's leg as he dodges to the side, delivering minor burns and lacerations to the Invarrian's calf. Luckily though, the web of fire dissipates into the air behind him, not causing any more damage.

With a great surge of power, Maebh calls up another Fireball and throws it into the Northmann's face, literally blowing off his head.

All that's left of the cult that attempted to summon a daemon minutes ago is two mangled corpses and a single unconscious Midlander.

Harold tries to find his staff and succeeds, avoiding the Wall of Blades and the gaping hole in the ground in the process.
"Go fetch. Fetch the stick!" - Ladyhawk.

Maebh suggests interrogating their prisoner, while unsurprisingly Breanna reckons they should cut his throat while they have the chance.

Together, Maebh and Harold tie him up, but then disagree on what to do next. Maebh thinks that taking him outside where he might be able to run away and hide is too dangerous, while Harold believes that they would have access to more skilled interrogators back in Summer Hill. Kel'Serrar then brings up the point that there are secret doors that lead to this room and the other Midlander escaped. With that, Maebh relents and the Invarrian hefts the prisoner out to the wagon.

Well he attempts to, but without help he has some difficulty doing so, his wounds causing no end of trouble. In the end, the grizzled duellist decides, screw it and just drags the prisoner up the huge flight of stairs and then through the hallway, tunnel and out into daylight where he and Kel'Serrar haul him onto the wagon.

Interesting points from Sins here.

"Coincidentally, has anyone noticed that this is all rather neat and tidy? Bandits, notes. So far we've delivered one note that evidently they weren't all that happy to receive as it wasn't the message they were planning on. Is anyone finding this just a little bit odd?" - Kel'Serrar.
"I'm finding it very odd, but for now, I just want to leave." - Harold.
"Feel free to leave, but when we go collect our payment, let's just say, I don't want to be in the room." - Kel'Serrar.
"Yeah.... I'm going to need you in the room I think." - Harold.

They discuss what to do when they finally get back to Petyr Rangard and tell him what happened here as they climb onto the wagon and head back to Summer Hill. They eventually decide that wherever they meet him, it will either be in an open space where he can't kill them off quietly, or in a place of their choosing with Kel'Serrar covering the meeting with his bow and Breanna hiding behind a curtain.

Night comes swiftly and finds Maebh sitting at the fore driving the horse. In the wagon behind her the prisoner is still drifting in unconscious slumber with Breanna watching him intently while sharpening her knives.
"You're really creepy, you know that right?" - Harold, addressing Breanna before turning over and trying to go to sleep.
Meanwhile:
"Sharp.... sharp....." - Breanna, crooning to her knives.

I made a joke here about how Breanna was internally thinking, "I wonder what colour your spleen is..." I think it may now be her new threat. She wrote it down on her character sheet. We shall see how that pans out.

Harold gave her instructions that she was allowed to slit his throat if he looked threatening in the slightest. As such, she was alert to his every move. Harold himself slept in the tray while Kel'Serrar sat on the back taking the first watch.

In the middle of the night, the party hears a low growl from the tree line.

And we left it there cause Sins had to go.

The Wrap-Up

Everyone levelled up halfway through this session. Here's a detailed recount of everyone's choices.

Maebh's Choices

Increases to her Ballistic Skill, Strength, Willpower and Intelligence along with Fire Ball, Wall of Blades and Aethyric Shield for her Spells. She then took Healing, Intimidation and Search for her Skills and the Destructive Will Talent, which adds double the first digit of her Willpower Statistic to any Destruction Spells she casts, meaning that her Fireball causes D10+11 Damage plus her boosted Fire Damage from Make it all Burn.

Kel'Serrar's Choices

Increases to his Ballistic Skill, Strength, Dexterity and Intelligence along with improving his Dodge Blow Skill as much as he could along with +10% bonuses to Silent Movement and Concealment. Finally he took several Talents, all of which helped him hurt things with archery. Eagle Eye, which equates to +3 Damage when using Aimed Shot, plus adding the first digits of both his Strength and Perception Statistics through Powerful Shot and Precise Shot respectively. Lastly, he picked up Witchflame, giving him +1 to Hit when using his Flaming Arrow Spell.

Breanna's Choices

Increases to her Weapon Skill, Strength, Toughness and Intelligence along with an increase to her Health and two Spells, Obscuring Mist and Terrifying Visage. In all, she's now quite an effective scout and by now her stat-line has caught up to her Talent choices, making her an effective killer too, at least from hiding, something Obscuring Mist should help with.

Harold's Choices

Increases to his Weapon Skill, Dexterity and Intelligence. In addition to this, he garnered a basic ability in just about every Basic Skill available. Harold now has Animal Care, Charm, Command, Concealment, Deception, Disguise, Dodge Blow, Gambling, Haggling, Intimidation, Riding, Silent Movement and Taunting. Of course he had a few of them before this level up, but quite a few of them are new. Additionally he picked up Swordmaster for +1 Damage when using a sword and Fall on Their Own Blades, which, on a successful parry, allows him to turn one opponent's blade into the path of another opponent.

Along with this, the party looted the other party from Summer Hill and picked up their equipment.
The list:
Maebh picked up Mordra Goldshine's arming sword, claiming it for use in her magic, as a sword is considered a non-essential ingredient in Wall of Blades.
Breanna picked up the same man's dagger, adding it to her collection of little bladed instruments.
Kel'Serrar took Eradan Blackstar's cloak, seeing as the dead man no longer had any use for it. Bloodied an dirty it might be, but that is nothing to a Danann.
Harold added to his portable armoury, taking Worron Radyzor's steel cuirass, greaves and vambraces, adding them to his defences, in turn destroying any hope he might be able to travel quietly. He also takes Eradan's longsword, belting it on. Because he didn't have enough blades already.
All the rest is piled onto the wagon to be sold when they find a merchant who will take it. They also found some money on the dead men and split it, fairly equally.

And that's all I think. Once again we finish it up with a massive cliff-hanger, but this time at least it's not practically an instant before potential death.
Or is it? :smallbiggrin:

Please let us know if you're reading this, or have any questions or anything. We love getting feedback. :smallsmile:
Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2013-01-28, 03:41 PM
I just logged into Norbayne and have started posting random ideas. Please let me know what you think, and when you're going to release Norbayne as a published product, and when you and Ladyhawk are going to get married:smallredface: (Ok, just kidding on that last one.)

Also, I'm glad to see Breeana getting a chance to really use her SA abilities. Look forward to the next installment!

Amidus Drexel
2013-01-28, 04:34 PM
As an aside, this might be the first time I have ever been forced to say that the minotaur is between you and the possum you want to throw at it.


Heh. :smallamused:

Everything does seem to be fitting in a little perfectly; they should be suspicious. (I'm of the opinion that an adventuring party should always be suspicious, though. :smallamused:)

Phoenixguard09
2013-01-29, 01:37 AM
Thank you Reader, any suggestions are very much appreciated. I hope you stay over there for as long as you wish. :smallwink:

To Amidus, indeed things are fitting together rather well, though I can't figure out if that's because my plot's too simplistic or if things just seem that way to them.

Or something else entirely. I'm not completely sure, but I do know that the person which the players feel is most suspicious carries a dark secret, the impacts of which have already been felt by them all. :smallbiggrin:

Of course, you should be able to tell who the suspect is, but only the most careful readers will be able to tell if he is a "villain."

One of the main premises of Norbayne was no alignment system. People can do good things or bad things depending on the situation. Doing something bad for the greater good in a situation which offers very few options doesn't necessarily make someone an evil person.

For that matter someone can be honourable, but not a good person. Or nice, but evil. Or a good person to some and not to others. All in all, alignment is far too large of a concept to approach from a rules perspective.

Whether a character is good or evil should depend on how the player actually feels about them. And for that matter, NPC's should react to a character on an individual basis, not implicitly trusting someone because they are good, but not trusting the nice, but sort of evil guy.

Oh and spells which only affect people of an evil alignment for example. How could that possibly work?

Sorry, that was a bit of a rant and I actually forgot what the point of it was. But anyway, that's why there's no alignment in Norbayne. Because I don't believe that anyone is truly, completely evil. Or good for that matter. It's all shades of grey.

Cheers and sorry for the rant everyone,

Phoenixguard09
2013-02-20, 08:03 PM
Small update, the next Norbayne game is set for tomorrow evening. :smallwink:

Cheers,

Mewtarthio
2013-02-21, 01:30 AM
Good to see this is back.

ReaderAt2046
2013-02-21, 11:13 AM
Agreed! Stabby possumlet is so cute!

Phoenixguard09
2013-02-22, 09:31 PM
Well just thought I'd quickly let you all know it went well last night. :smallwink:

We did pick up another player, Wings, who is playing a Dwergar Engineer, Tremor Ironfist.

Unfortunately, he was pretty late so we didn't end up starting until late, so it was only a short session, despite getting through a fair bit of material.

Better go now,
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-19, 09:18 PM
Session 2.1: Drunken Lullabies

After playing what would have been session 1.10, it was decided that to keep the numbering system rational, the previous 1.4 should really be the first session of the second arc. Hence this one has been renamed 2.1. Hope that's not been too confusing. Cheers,

I am sorry that this took so long to write up, but despite being so short, this session took an awfully long time to write up. Probably because the group spent more time actually playing rather than paying Dev out. So let's get to it.

Due to our new player, the party started out split. Oh no! But it's okay, cause I fully intended to have them join up shortly.

The party itself was heading south, back to Summer Hill, Maebh driving the wagon. It was decided that they would like to play out the afternoon again, something I was quite happy to do as it meant we could get Tremor into the action quicker in the long run. I know, you wouldn't think so, but unbelievably I think it did.

"So how do we want to approach firstly the matter of our payment and secondly the information we have gained?" - Harold, addressing the group from his seat in the back of the cart.

"Payment?" - Maebh.

"Yes, payment from the man who is essentially bankrolling us at the moment." - Harold.

"Perhaps you didn't understand me. I don't want to be in the room." - Kel'Serrar.

"I understand that. You can cover me. You could be across the street with an arrow ready. I'm sure it won't hit, but at least you might get close." - Harold.

"I guess I should find a blindfold." - Kel'Serrar.

Laughter.

"Maebh, I would like you there as my right hand." - Harold.

"And you would like me not to be there." - Breanna, pre-empting an assault on her capabilities.

"No, I would like you to be there and ready to slit some throats." - Harold.

"... I can't do that unless he's short enough for me to reach." - Breanna.

With that, they decided that they had sorted out how they would handle the collection of the money they were due.

Breanna continues her attempts at creeping out the prisoner as they make their way back to Summer Hill in the cart. The sunlight fades and they find themselves on the road at night. The decision is made to press on through the dark hours, to arrive in Summer Hill as soon as possible.

That night they hear a strange howling from the east. Alert for signs of danger, they press on, sharpening weapons and keeping watchful eyes on the tree line. Maebh contemplates casting a Magical Alarm on the road behind them to warn of anyone following, but they decide not to as she needs to drive the wagon forward and casting the spell would take time.
Harold considers relieving Breanna from her prisoner-watching duties but promptly forgets when they all notice the eerie sensation of being watched by something in the forest.

Meanwhile in Summer Hill, I had Wings take an Alcohol Consumption Check to signify how Tremor was spending his night. This was to make sure that he was doing something while the others were rolling their Perception Checks.

So therefore, for his first action in the story, Tremor Ironfist sits in The Iron Moon Inn, trying hard to drink himself into a coma. He is failing for now, but is certainly putting away a lot of alcohol.

Meanwhile out on the road with the howling echoing in their ears, the group has an uncomfortable feeling they are being watched.

Kel'Serrar did exceptionally well on his Check, going into negatives and Harold tried to use his Invarrian nose to garner some more clues.

On the very edge of his hearing, Kel'Serrar can hear what sounds like very soft footsteps. He's not sure if they're real, but he has learnt to trust his gut instinct by now and he thinks there is something there. The pattern with which they hit the ground seems vaguely familiar to him. His first thoughts are either Corpsewalker or marcwolf.

Harold takes another whiff of the air, but in all the smells he gets, he comes up with nothing out of the ordinary. He can smell horse, Leathe, Danann, Invarrian (drunken dog-man) and the various smells of the forest.

And then it hits him. A very faint whiff of decay.

The whole group starts to freak out and whinge about how it's a Corpsewalker and how mean I am to them. I was incredibly happy with this turn of events as that is precisely the attitude I want towards the Corpsewalkers. I think it means I have gotten just the right balance of fear, enough that they dread taking them on, not enough that they'll run out on the plot.

Maebh drives the horse to a bit more speed now, taking the road a little quicker than perhaps is safe, but none of the others mind as the faster they travel, the further they are from any Corpsewalkers.

Now past midnight, Tremor takes another Check for the alcohol he is consuming. He is still barely affected. It has gotten so late that the barkeep himself has told the taciturn and alcoholic dwarf,
"Look it's getting late. Help yourself, I'm going to bed. Don't set yourself on fire. If you do, make sure it's in the fireplace." - Sleepy barkeep.

Quite a bit of laughter follows this because of the earlier joke regarding Harold setting himself on fire after a night in this same tavern.

Nodding to the barkeep, Tremor accepts the offered key to the cellar and proceeds to help himself.

Back out on the road, it is now early morning and the pale light of the early sun is just breaking through the cloud cover. They have just reached the section of the road where the carriage careened through the undergrowth over a week before.

Perception Checks again.

They can still feel the uncomfortable sensation of being watched and Breanna can hear both a soft padding from the road behind them and once the sound of scratching on the bark of a tree.

Tremor's still drinking in the town, despite the sun coming up outside. Finally, he can feel the effects of all the alcohol, despite having spent at least six solid hours putting away various alcoholic beverages. At this time, some people are actually starting to awaken. Not the many who attempted to match the dwarf drink for drink last night, they're going to be out of it for a fair while yet, but despite this, some people are beginning to stir. Sitting up against the wall with two large tankards of ale, Tremor keeps gulping.

Back on the road they discuss whether they should move past the carriage and back to Summer Hill or whether they should retrace their steps back to the now abandoned marcwolf cave and see if they can find the bandit camp. Kel'Serrar badly wants the brigands out of the way, however Maebh and Harold advise caution, particularly since Harold himself is still badly wounded. In fact the whole party is still a little worse for wear.

Despite all points to the contrary, Kel'Serrar heads out to go check out what he can find on his own while Maebh drives the cart with the others back to Summer Hill.

There is some discussion about whether they should stay to provide him with a quick getaway until it is pointed out that he can actually run faster than the cart would travel with five people in it, plus all of the equipment Harold insists they take with them.

OOC it is pointed out how slow it will be when the Dwergar joins them.

"That's it, I'm getting another horse to go with this one!" - Ladyhawk.
"You could pull me along in a little sled behind you." - Wings.

Kel'Serrar follows the now almost non-existent trail they followed days before and comes across the ruined carriage. It has been completely wrecked by something with a not inconsiderable amount of strength. The girl's corpse, and those of the two horses, have mysteriously disappeared, leaving no discernable trace for the Danann ranger to follow.

Checking more closely, Kel'Serrar finds a small ring which he recognises as being worn by the girl when last he was here, lying upon the shredded remains of the richly upholstered seat. The ring itself is practically worthless, however its presence is unusual.

Looking closely at the scene and the tracks left behind, the ranger determines that the carriage must have been travelling very fast, probably trying to escape from something on the road. Now what could possibly be big enough, hungry enough and fierce enough to lead to that kind of reaction? Just outside a town in the Midlands of all places.

Kel'Serrar considers whether it is worth trying to find the old marcwolf cave they sheltered in several nights ago, and from there scouting out the bandit camp, but his ability to find both of these considering the cold trails he would be following is unknown. With this in mind, the Danann ranger turns and promptly lopes back onto the road, despite the light-headedness which still plagues him, hoping to catch up to the wagon before he faints. On the way he curses his weakness, wishing that he could deal with the bandits now and by himself, but he is smart enough to know that he's just not capable of that. Yet...

Maebh's wagon is only an hour at the most outside of Summer Hill when they recognise the running figure of Kel'Serrar approaching from the north. All of them are half dead from fatigue having spent the majority of the previous night in watchful fear.

Blinking her bleary eyes, Maebh drives her wagon through the western gate of Summer Hill at mid-morning.
"To the drinking hall!" - Harold, to stony silence. "No, okay then."
"Alright let's go to the fountain. Breanna and Kel'Serrar, I want you two to cover us while we talk to this guy while you Maebh, I want you to just be your beautiful self, standing next to me." - Harold, getting the hang of using flattery to get his way.

"Thank you." - Maebh, in such a regal tone that everyone cracked up.

"Please don't eat me." - Harold in an undertone. And we all thought that perhaps he was starting to use his Charm Skill the way it should be used. For example, without punching people in the face.

Meanwhile Tremor is still sitting in a tavern, putting away ales because he enjoys his nights. And mornings.
"And all other times. Provided he's awake." - Ladyhawk.
There's a lot of talking about respective weights. Especially how Tremor is probably getting closer to a blob than a dwarf.
Tremor is approached while sitting in the tavern by a short, slight, well-dressed man with a trimmed, pointed beard and short, dark hair. He is very pale, his skin clammy, but any illness he must be feeling he puts aside in his manner.

"You look like you're relatively experienced." - Rangard, with just a small amount of disdain towards the grizzled Dwergar.

"I need a hand. I wish you to join a group who is currently in my employ. They'll likely need someone of your abilities anyway. But in the meantime at least, I might be in danger from them as I don't know just how much danger I just put them in. So basically, I will pay you a lot of money if you will make sure that they don't just kill me out of hand." - Rangard, looking slightly nervous.

Tremor staggers to his feet, looks up at the man, stares him directly in the eye and pauses for a moment, before nodding his agreement.

Harold leans back against the fountain, finishing off the last of the rum he bought last time he was in town. The rest of his group are waiting in readiness, half of them hidden in the trees and Maebh beside him remaining calm. Walking towards them they can see the figure of Rangard and a short, hairy Dwergar clad in leather and staggering with slight drunkenness. Which after hearing how much he's had to drink over the last twelve hours, is quite an accomplishment.

"I don't know what happened out there, but judging by the look on your faces, that was not what we expected." - A very pale Rangard to Maebh and Harold.

"Can you not tell by the rest of us?" - Maebh, pointing out that her clothing is singed and burnt and Harold himself is nursing several major injuries and is looking more battered than ever. Being savaged by a sword-wielding northerner will do that to you.

Rangard looks at them appraisingly before cracking a slight grin.
"I thought it would be impolite to mention it my lady. Now please tell me, what happened out there?" - Rangard

"Well the first night we came across some marcwolves which were trying to eat us. Then speaking of things which wanted to eat us, there were actual Corpsewalkers! And then even more Corpsewalkers." - Harold.

Rangard flinches at the mention of Corpsewalkers but does not react further.

"And then, when we actually find the group you sent before us, we found out they were all bitten!" - Harold, indignant.
"And now they're all dead." - Maebh, in a far too cheerful manner.
"Yes, cause we were fortunate enough to be there on the day they started to turn." - Harold, sarcastic.
"How was that fortunate?" - Ladyhawk. Dev isn't the easiest person to determine levels of sarcasm in. As in, he always sounds vaguely sarcastic.

There is silence for a short while before,
"I take it from what you say that you put them down?" - Rangard.
"Yes!" - Harold. Political intrigue is not something Harold will ever be good at.
"And there were no survivors?" - Rangard.
"None!" - Harold still frustrated.
"We survived..." - Maebh in the background.
"Except us!" - Harold to Rangard.
"Thank you Mar-ve" - Dev.
"MAY-VE!" - Everyone. Judging by the recording, even Wings.
"Mar-ve, May-ve. what's the difference?" - Dev.
"No because pronunciation doesn't matter does it Gyeorg?"
"Yes, thank you James." - Dev
There is silence....
"I expected Jar-mays."
The war on pronunciation begins anew, with Duke Dev at the forefront, spreading illiteracy wherever he goes.

"I haven't been completely truthful with you-" - Rangard beginning.
"OH REALLY!?" - Harold.
"Yeah we kind of figured." - Maebh.
"I would like to share what I can with you now if that is okay." - Rangard.
"Yes that would be useful. Will it also be sprinkled with more hidden lies and slander?" - Harold.
"I haven't slandered you at all." - Rangard.
"Well not yet!" - Harold. He's a stubborn bastard and tends to get completely off-track in conversations. A trait he shares with his player. In copious amounts.

"I need help. I am for Summer Hill, that's all I care about. That doesn't necessarily make me a good person, but I'm a damn sight better than the alternatives. As you know, the queen of Elspeth has long wanted to claim Summer Hill as her own. Now what you don't know is that, as of these last few months, Queen Esmerelda has been trying to claim us through clandestine means. As you can imagine this is not good for Summer Hill at all. We value our independence, a long-standing gift from a good man and a great king.

I came by knowledge of these attempts and approached one of my friends here in the town in an attempt to put a halt to these events. Though it took us weeks and in some cases led us into extreme peril, we eventually found that there were some ancient artefacts that could give us the strength to fight back, Focus Stones. Imagine our surprise and joy when we found one may have been hidden in this very area! It became an obsession of ours, to find its location and obtain it, to use its power to crush the power of this cult.

My friend was a very powerful mage, easily the best magic user the town could lay claim to, capable of melting the very rock with the heat of his conjured flames, and having no experience in these matters myself I used what assets I could to engage some hirelings to accompany him into the ruins. We told them only that we wanted to explore the ruins and they were to accompany my friend.
I did not know, but at least one of them was in the employ of Elspeth simultaneously and betrayed us. My friend died down there, cut down from behind even as he sent a whisper to me.

Now my investigations have led me to believe that the cult has been using those very same ruins as some sort of headquarters where they come together to plan I imagine-" -Rangard, interrupted in the middle of his spiel.
This is about as close I have come to arrogant GM monologue. :smalltongue:

"Ha, we killed them." - Maebh, triumphantly.
"Well , not all of them." - Harold in an undertone.
"You found the cult?" - Rangard, grave.
"Yes, we killed the head of the cult." - Harold.
Rangard stands in place, taking in this new information. Meanwhile, Tremor, to whom all of this is new, is just perplexed.
"Actually, we killed a really strong one, and there was also a short, old man. Oh and another one who's sitting in the cart whimpering I reckon." - Maebh, thoughtful.
"Have you managed to get anything out of him?" - Rangard, latching on to this new player in the game.
"We have two pieces of information, and we will share them with you. I think I will ask you to go get the prisoner Maebh." - Harold, probably thinking that Rangard and Tremor don't necessarily know that Kel'Serrar and Breanna are in hiding and are therefore unknown observers, elects to send his already revealed ally.

Probably the best choice he could make in the circumstances.

"Well, before you send your mage away, I have a request I'm afraid I must ask of her." - Rangard, a small trace of desperation leaking into his usual calm voice.
"Only if you ask nicely." - Maebh, putting her 'haughty' on.
"I will ask nicely, as it pleases you my lady." - Rangard, bowing slightly. For an arrogant man, this is about as close to actual respect one could get from him. He continues.
"Through some means, I know not how, the cult must be aware I am working against them. I have been cursed and I do not expect I have much life left in me. Unfortunately, since my friend died, I have no other mage in this town whom I trust." - Rangard. He pauses.
"I don't even trust you that much, I am sorry. But you're the only hope I have." - Rangard.

The astute here might realise that his story here has some holes. Whether this is down to yet more untruths or perhaps just a gap of knowledge, who’s to say?

"Ah, not til I get some answers." - Harold cuts in.
"I am sorry, but time is of the essence. Whatever questions you have, I swear I will answer to the best of my abilities once I am cured." - Rangard. Even in mortal peril, he can't help but strike a deal. Must be the merchant in him.
"Alright then." - Maebh, rolling up her sleeves and ignoring Harold as she prepares to cast the spell.

As Maebh observes the merchant closely, she can feel the darkness within him, slowly eating him away. He is likely in rather extreme agony and it's a miracle he's not catatonic with the pain. She can also see that his condition is will worsen within the hour.

Rangard was hit with the Black Death curse. It slowly but surely strangles every vein in his body with burning daemonic energy, causing a very painful death. Usually it takes less than a day to bring down the target, the effects increasing as time wears on.

Rangard's been dealing with the curse for over a day now, showing an extremely strong will, not only to have survived this long, but still be able to communicate and move. Of course, even he is not invincible, and without a cure, his time would be up.

"Okay, looks like a dangerous one. I'm going to need some water someone." - Maebh, playing the doctor for once and holding out her drinking bowl.
Harold takes the bowl and dips it into the fountain, bringing up some water which he carefully carries over to the mage.
Maebh accepts the bowl of water without comment and holds it before her in both hands, channelling some of her power into the water contained in the vessel. A soft green-ish glow emanates from the liquid, which cannot truly be called water anymore. Dipping a dainty finger in it, Maebh draws a runic symbol of the Scribhinn The Scribhinn is the Danann script. The language is called the Cainte. on Rangard's forehead before offering the rest to the merchant to drink. He does so and gasps as the liquid instantly freezes his insides, burning out the dark magic with extreme, purifying chill.

In true Monty Python fashion, he got better.

"Okay then, as you know the group I sent out betrayed us to Elspeth and killed my friend." - Rangard. He takes a deep breath.
"The Corpsewalkers are my doing. I set them upon the other group, hoping to destroy them in a way which would not be traced back to me in any way." - Rangard.

"Okay then, next question. What is it a cult of?" - Harold.

"The destruction of what I hold dear. Failing that, they're trying to find a way to bind a daemon to bring us down from within. There is no religious purpose behind them. It is sheer acquisition of power and gold, nothing more." - Rangard.

"Right. Okay, 'Mar-ve,' could you please go get the prisoner." - Harold, once again mangling Maebh's name.
"First of all it's Maebh, and secondly okay, but only since you asked politely." - Maebh, primly.

Maebh heads off and swiftly returns with the struggling and bound prisoner slung over her shoulder. He must be rather heavy, but the tough Danann mage doesn't seem to notice his wriggling or his whimpers of fear.

Makes you wonder what she usually carries over her shoulder like that....

"I see. Hopefully you don't mind if we deliver him into the care of one of my associates. She should be able to wring some truth from him." - Rangard, with a hard glare at the bound prisoner.
"I want to be there." - Maebh, quick as a flash.
"That can be arranged." - Rangard, nodding.
"So do I." - Harold, with something approaching weighty finality.
There is silence for a moment, then....
"How many people do you wish to cram into this tiny little torture room?" - Rangard, eyebrow raised.
"Just two more than usual." - Harold.
"Right so four already, plus the one being cut up..." - Rangard. He looks at the Danann and Invarrian, sizing them up.
"Okay, I shall see what can be done." - Rangard.

"Good. There is also an issue regarding a bandit camp in the vicinity." - Harold, pulling forth the note given to them by a previous prisoner. Their prisoners tend to meet damn sticky ends.....

"As you can see it's been signed by their leader, code-named, The Shadow. Any clues as to who that is?" - Harold.
"Unfortunately, I don't know, but I would bet it has something to do with Elspeth and their damned Queen." - Rangard, regretfully.
Harold sighs and nods his head resignedly.

"Well, I believe I owe you all a not inconsiderable amount of money." - Rangard.
"Yes, and you'd better pay up now." - Maebh.
"Okay then, let us go to my manor and we shall organise payment and the interrogation of your prisoner." - Rangard, turning to leave. Before he does so, he halts and turns back to the Invarrian and Dannan.
"I don't suppose you managed to find that Focus Stone while you were down there by any chance?" - Rangard, with just a little bit of hope.
"No." - Maebh, lying through her teeth.
"Well, we might have actually. We'll have to got the cart and check it out." - Harold, trying to get a bit of time alone to discuss it with the others.

"Well then, I guess I should give you your money first and we can sort that out later. I'd be very much obliged if you would come with me and I will introduce you to my associate while we're there." - Rangard, a little preoccupied with his own thoughts.

More to come very soon. :smallwink: Right here in fact. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14928910&postcount=35)

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-19, 09:28 PM
Told you so, here's part 2 of Session 1.4.

The merchant heads off with Harold and Tremor in tow, leaving the Danann with the bound prisoner. Grinning maliciously, she takes the rope and pulls the man after the three men, oblivious to his feeble struggles. After they have left, Breanna and Kel'Serrar drop out of their respective trees and make their way back to the wagon, thinking to guard it while the others are otherwise engaged.

After leading his companions to his household, Rangard takes them to his study and starts the transaction, paying them from his own personal reserves.

Everyone gets their money and there is much rejoicing. Tremor gets a bit less than the rest as really all he's done is act as an intimidating, short, drunken bodyguard.

"Now that is out of the way, I shall introduce you to my associate." - Rangard, rubbing his hands together. He's looking a bit livelier already, but it will take some time before the damage inflicted by the curse is fully reversed.

"Are you talking about the dwarf?" - Harold, pointing at Tremor.

"No." - Rangard, who nods his head towards the corner of the room.

Standing there in the corner, unobserved until now, is a short Selkye woman, clad in dark grey cloth, a deep cowl obscuring her facial features. She stalks over to the group, cold eyes appraising everyone individually before bowing respectfully to Rangard.

"Well met." - Selkye assassin, having straightened once more. At about the same height as Tremor, both Harold and Maebh tower over her, but she still holds herself with an easy confidence.

"Indeed." - Harold, with a raised eyebrow.
Maebh offers a respectful nod in greeting, while Tremor simply grunts.
Rangard addresses the group.
"With your permission, I would like to grant this woman access to your prisoner." - Rangard.
The prisoner starts to try and escape again, drawing only a very sharp pull on the rope from Maebh which promptly cuts into his windpipe. He starts whimpering some more.
"Shut up. Do you want something to complain about? Like my boot in your face?" - Harold.
"So, may I begin?" - Selkye assassin, quietly.
Maebh simply nods.

The small woman reaches down and picks the man up by the scruff of the neck, before physically hauling him out the door and down the hallway, ignoring his panicked struggles and screams. She is very strong for her size, ruthless, and focussed only on doing her job. The others follow her out.

She continues down a flight of stairs, dragging the prisoner as she goes, thinking to exploit the bruised flesh later, before turning right through another doorway. Inside the room are two tables, one bare stone, the other polished wood, strewn with various wicked looking knives.

The Selkye woman ties the man to the stone table while Maebh and Rangard look on and Harold and Tremor lean up against the doorway, getting to know each other through the universal language of betting.
"Three coppers says he lasts no more than three minutes." - Harold, rubbing two coppers together.
"You're on, he'll last longer than that, no matter how good the little lass is." - Tremor.

Ten seconds later....
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH! DON'T HURT ME AGAIN!" - Cultist.
"I win?" - Harold, grinning.

Within ten minutes, the cultist has revealed everything he knows to the gathered torturers. The assassin gives him some time to talk without the attentions of the steel blades. Those wicked steel blades.

"We were hired to produce something which could be unleashed within the town so that the forces outside can strike while they are distracted. We’re looking to harness a daemon, bend it to our control completely without anchoring it to a physical target. One cannot use the power of the daemons without anchoring it to a physical object. When you use magic, you anchor a daemon within yourself. Necromancers anchor the daemon to a corpse, which is far less volatile than anchoring the daemon to a living being, especially one who is unwilling to be a receptacle. We seek to bind it within an aethyric box, and then turn it loose and although we would prefer to retain some control over it, that control is not necessary to our needs.” - Frantic and bleeding cultist.

"Do you mean that control is not necessary now, but your long term desire is to control it?" - Tremor, interposing himself in the conversation with typical gruffness.

The cultist trembles.
"Well..... AAAAARGH! More or less...." - Cultist, defeated after the assassin stabs him once again, thinking he has gone long enough with pain.

"Well then, that was informative. We will leave Meldith here to dispose of him, shall we?" - Rangard, unconsciously rubbing his hands together as if washing them.
"Fair enough. I'm not really into the disposal of bodies." - Dev.
"I noticed. Like the little girl's body you consigned to the wolves."
"Well.... It was good protein for them!" - Dev.

The three companions follow Rangard back into his study, leaving the Selkye to her grisly task.
"As you can see, I did not lie to you about the cult within the town." - Rangard, grim.
"No you did not." - Harold, nodding in agreement, if perhaps a little grudgingly.

At this point Dev says, "But you did...." and makes a strange whining noise in the back of his throat. The weird thing? So does Wings. Everyone else laughs and ignores the important question.
"What?" - LD.
The fact is, none of us had a clue what the two of them were talking about in their own weird, spontaneously created whine-language.
"We obviously bonded over the gambling!" - Dev.

"Say hypothetically, we continued helping you...." - Harold, leaving the question open.
"Would we be paid more?" - Tremor, finishing it. Those two would become nigh inseparable as the night went on. May all the Gods of men save us all.
"Of course." - Rangard, smoothly.
"Okay then, so in that hypothetical world, how much are we talking, and what would be our next step?" - Harold.
"To answer your first question, however much you feel you are worth. I am a wealthy and powerful merchant. Name a figure remotely reasonable and I shall see it fulfilled." - Rangard, somewhat smug.
"I want one hundred crowns." - Maebh, quietly leaning against the wall.

One hundred crowns is an awful lot. In modern day terms, what she did there was like trying to withdraw seven million dollars from the local supermarket.

"How about ten then?" - Maebh, smiling a little in the face of Rangard's incredulous look. It's still a lot of money, but he's wealthy and he needs them. So he can afford it for now, but in the overall scheme of things, that is likely to break him when combined with the money he handed out earlier that day.

"So two each then?" - Rangard, with a sinking feeling when he sees the Danann mage shake her head.
"No, just for me." - Maebh, cheerful.
Stunned silence. Then,
"Our mage regards herself very highly." - Harold, somewhat sarcastically. Well we assumed so anyway. He might just be the master of understatement. You never can tell with Dev.

"I do. You would all be dead if it weren't for me." - Maebh, haughty, and a little affronted that Harold would take that tone regarding her.
"I am willing to negotiate with you all individually." - Rangard, heading off the argument. After all, he really doesn't want a mage to start flinging fire around inside his expensive manor house. Especially if he's going to have to hand over a significant portion of his money to said mage.

"Well anyway, from this point onward, I want you to be open and honest with all of us. Otherwise, I'm out and hanging you out to dry." - Harold, moving back to the task at hand.
Rangard nods, but crucially, doesn't commit to anything.

"What did you need the stone for exactly?" - Maebh, bringing up the one mystery she had left to her before Harold can demand a commitment from Rangard. The Focus Stone she found, while useful, doesn't exactly lend the wielder earth-shattering power by any stretch.
"Ah, well as you know my friend was a rather powerful mage, and that stone was to be the deciding factor in this struggle. But of course, if you haven't found it then we just need to rely on old fashioned force of arms to get this done." - Rangard, sadly.
"But even if we had it, you'd have no mage to use it." - Maebh, frowning.
"If we had the stone, I might just trust you enough to be happy letting you use it." - Rangard, sighing.

"So what is our next step now?" - Harold, moving onwards.
"So wait, what's the time? In the game." - Wings.
"About eleven in the morning."
"Ah, time for a drink then?" - Wings, to much laughter.
"So would we look at taking out this bandit camp?" - Harold.
"Honestly, I don't think that's much of a problem compared to the cult within the town itself. Now I do have a lead for you if you are willing to investigate. I'd prefer you to do it than any of my other associates. Meldith is unfortunately, a little too well-known around here." - Rangard.

"She had a bit of a tight scrape while observing another person of interest and only escaped by assuming a fourth false identity during the chase." - Rangard, ignoring the raised eyebrows and disbelieving expressions. They all know that Breanna is not capable of anything like that, so it gives them all a bit of an idea regarding Meldith's abilities. That and the fact that whatever ran her off was powerful enough to do so.

"We'll have to get our own assassin to do this by the sounds of it." - Harold, in an undertone while stroking his chin.

"Anyway, there is a man in town, goes by the last name of Shylocke. He's a merchant, one of the more powerful ones in the area. Now I had him followed by Meldith and she found that he frequents the Harvest Wolf, Wilmund Brewer's tavern over on the west side of town. Unfortunately, access to the backroom was difficult for her to access and she was only just able to escape without being compromised." - Rangard, imparting as much information as possible.

"Okay, I take it the dwarf is joining us?" - Harold, referring to Tremor.
"Us and our little band of murder-hobos?" - Sins.
"I would be very much in your debt if you would join them." Rangard.
"Yes. Yes you would." - Tremor, gruff.
"Welcome. By the way we are called the Order of the Stick!" - Dev.
"No we are not!" - Ladyhawk, indignant that she didn't get to propose her name for the party.
"Order of the Beard?" - Dev.
"I don't like it cause I don't have one." - Ladyhawk.
"Order of the Beer?" - Dev. Strangely apt.
"....No." - Ladyhawk.
"Order of the Arrow?" - Wings, helpfully.
"We don't really know each other well enough to have an 'Order' yet." - Ladyhawk.
"How about we just stick with Murder-Hobos for the moment?" - Sins.
Silence.....
"Order of the Murder-Hobo?" - Ladyhawk, laughing.
"Wow.... How noble...."

"Well then, that's settled. Like to go drinking at the tavern?" - Harold to Tremor. New best buds they are.
"Yes!" - Tremor, gruffly.
"Okay then, well we'll do that and Maebh, perhaps you might want to.... um... well..." - Harold, thinking over the best way to use the prickly mage.
"Sneak in the back door?" - Tremor, helpful as ever.
"Yeah!" - Harold. Let's face it, he's probably already half drunk on the mere thought of alcohol.
"We'll cause the distraction lass, you go around the back." - Tremor.
"I've got it! We'll start a drinking competition with EVERYONE in the pub!" - Harold, excited at the glorious bingeing to come.

At some point Tremor did work out rates. The dwarf gets 20 sulvers a week for every full week he stays in service to Rangard. In addition to that he will get 2 crowns upon the cult's destruction.

The rest of the party will also get the 2 crowns each, however they have not come to any conclusion with Rangard with regards to other payment.


They head off in their separate directions after getting instructions from Rangard on how to get to the Harvest Wolf. Tremor and Harold walk directly to the tavern, happily getting to know each other, while Maebh strides back to the cart, a solitary, foreboding figure in the town. She's going to pick up Breanna and let Kel'Serrar what's going on. Hopefully by the time she and the Leathe make it to the tavern, the drinking games will have begun and no one will notice them. Hopefully.

Out on the street, Maebh changes her mind about going back all the way, sending her two companions news of the situation through a Whispering Wind.

Much like D&D’s Sending, Whispering Wind is a Weathermancy spell, very handy in the right circumstances.

“At Rangard’s house. Prisoner gave away everything, evil queen woman to invade. Going to a pub to find out more, need Breanna here.” – Maebh’s whispered message.

Kel’Serrar and Breanna, after initially freaking out at the noise, recognise Maebh’s voice. Kel’Serrar leans back against the edge of the cart, completely at ease. As far as he’s concerned, it’s not his problem and watching all their belongings is probably the best thing he could do at the moment.

Breanna meanwhile decides that she should go help, and accosts the first person she comes across, asking the townsman where she could find Rangard’s house. She obtains decent directions and knocks on the door of the house matching the description she was given.

A servant answers the knock.

“You’re with the group my master has hired, aren’t you?” – Servant.
“Yes, I am.” – Breanna.
“Would you like me to bring you to him?” – Servant.
“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind.” – Breanna.

The servant shows the Leathe into a sitting room and she waits for barely a minute before Rangard comes in, pale yet smiling.

“I take it you are looking for your friends?” – Rangard.
“They’re not my friends, they’re my cover, but yes I need to find them.” – Breanna.
“They’re at the Harvest Wolf, a tavern on the west side of town.” – Rangard.
“Thank you!” – Breanna, bubbly, trying to freak him out. It seems to have worked.
“Now get out of my house please.” – Rangard, looking worried at the assassin’s sudden and pronounced change in demeanour.

Breanna leaves the house, whistling cheerfully to herself, heading off the Harvest Wolf.

Meanwhile, Harold and Tremor have come to the modest tavern and have ordered a massive amount of alcohol.
“Can I expect that between the two of you, you will drink me out of house and home?” – Wilmund Brewer, owner and barman of the Harvest Wolf.
“We’re an Invarrian and a Dwergar…. What do you think?” – Harold.
“Okay, I’ll just be down in the cellar.” – Brewer, sighing with resignation.
“While you’re down there, make sure you bring enough up. We’re going to having a drinking competition.” – Tremor, gruff but happy.
“And who will your opponent be?” – Brewer, looking slightly happier. After all, someone’s going to have to pay for the beverages.
“EVERYONE!” – Harold and Tremor together. At this point, Brewer knew his doom was approaching.
“….. Let me go put up a sign.” – Brewer. He’s a shrewd businessman and knows that the more advertising he gets in, the better.

The sign reads as follows:
Come test your stomach against two of the world’s most seasoned drinkers! Harold Oakenshield and Tremor Ironfist have come down from the wild lands of the cold north, to partake of Summer Hill’s best ales. If you manage to outlast either of them over the course of the afternoon, you get half your money back!

Despite only being two in the afternoon at the latest, the drinking competition starts off huge, with at least forty of the locals trying their abilities against the Invarrian and the still hung-over and partially drunk Dwergar. The ale is quaffed easily and both Tremor and Harold share an approving glance. It’s good stuff.

Maebh stands and watches outside, eventually joined by Breanna, while round after round of ales come round the table for the next two hours. The two hour’s solid drinking has made the rest of the crowd considerably less enthusiastic, while Harold and Tremor are just getting warmed up.
Drew a comparison to the Legolas and Gimli drinking competition in The Lord of the Rings.

More people are coming in, drawn by both the spectacle and the good mood pervading the tavern and surrounding area, one which makes passers-by really feel like a drink.

Tremor sits in his seat, still downing ales one after the other, with a blood-alcohol concentration swiftly approaching something in the range of 60%. It’s likely one could inject a donkey with that amount of alcohol and kill it outright.

“We’ll go another hour before giving Maebh and Breanna the signal to move in.” – Dev.
“Yeah, we’re trying to drink the whole town unconscious.” – Wings.
“You know, if anyone can drink over two thousand people under the table, it would be you two. You’re sure you want to go another hour?”
“Yeah, we want the concentration to be on us.” – Dev.
“At the moment, the concentration is within you.”
“Alright well, we’ll give the signal to start to head around the side now.” – Wings.

Tremor stands up, stretching his hands into the air, but in his drunken state he forgets about the matter of his height. So he stands on his seat, the crowd looking at him like he’s about to topple over and fall unconscious any second now. They’re to be disappointed.

“That’s the signal, let’s move.” – Maebh to Breanna. The two women start to walk surreptitiously around the edge of the building.

Tremor on the other hand sits down and starts chugging his ale again. Both of them are starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, but neither is looking like falling over yet.
Mechanically, Tremor is looking a lot worse than Harold is at the moment, but neither has suffered a failure by enough to cause unconsciousness. On the other hand, the negatives to their Alcohol Consumption Checks are really adding up, so it’s only a matter of time. Harold almost went down in this third hour, but expended a Luck Point to adjust the roll.

Breanna approaches the backdoor of the tavern with Maebh covering her. The Leathe takes her thin dagger and with supreme skill, picks the padlock. With a small sound of delight, Breanna grabs the door with a small furry hand and swings it open towards herself and walks in.

The small, dark room was lit only by a single candle upon a wooden table, so when the door was opened, letting in the late afternoon sun, the group of men gathered around the table knew about it immediately, noticing the new light source along with the haplessly backlit Leathe assassin standing in the doorway, who is only now realising her mistake. All of them take a look at the diminutive Leathe-girl and bolt. Through her.

The men run out the door, leaving Breanna battered and bruised on the ground as she’s been trampled. Maebh is taken by surprise as well and with a split-second thought, she tackles one of them, slamming the man to the ground. But something feels wrong. She lifts herself off him and sees he is smiling before he just disappears into thin air before her eyes. Maebh scrabbles desperately but quickly comes to the conclusion that he is not invisible, but is in fact not even there anymore.

Breanna eventually picks herself up off the ground, with some difficulty while Maebh walks into the room, still troubled by her recent run-in with whatever she had a run-in with.

Harold and Tremor keep up the drinking, not knowing how things are progressing outside. Tremor finally has had enough and he sinks to the table in an alcoholic haze, probably with more alcohol in his system than any other bodily fluid. And he’s not due to wake up until at least five tomorrow morning.

Unaware of Tremor’s alcoholic collapse, Breanna and Maebh search the room for anything they can use as incriminating evidence. They find very little, a small black candle, lit on the middle of the table and some sheets of blank parchment and pens on a desk in the corner, along with some innocuous books in shelves along the eastern wall and a bottle of fairly expensive wine in a small box.

Leaving the candle where it lies, Maebh walks around the side and back out to the front, letting Harold know that it is time to go.

“Well, that’s it, I’m done. I’d better take my mate here to go get some sleep.” – Harold, swaying slightly as he gets up, before bending over to try and pick up the comatose dwarf.
As drunk and slightly crippled as he is, it’s unsurprising that this doesn’t work. Maebh comes over to help.
“I’ve got it lass.” – Harold, drunk and slurring.
“Fine. I could set you on fire you know.” – Maebh.
With difficulty, Harold manages to lift the dwarf over his shoulder, and manages, just, to carry Tremor to the wagon, throwing him down into it, disturbing Kel’Serrar.
“I’M SO HAMMERED!” – Harold, a drunken apology perhaps?

Maebh on the other hand hires two rooms at the Iron Moon Inn, one for herself and another for Breanna, in a rare show of camaraderie. Kel’Serrar? Sleeps in a tree in the courtyard again, having escaped from the cart and its alcoholic aroma.

Harold and Tremor lie in the cart in a drunken sleep.

Six in the evening and Maebh and Breanna eat together in the tavern, Harold and Tremor are still sleeping and Kel’Serrar sits in his tree, trying to ignore the stench wafting up from beneath him. The two poor marcwolf pups curl up at the base of Kel’Serrar’s tree.

They wake up with the worst hangovers they have ever experienced. Where most hangovers make the head hurt and everything else feel sort of fuzzy, for these two, everything hurts. They drank so much that their teeth will feel as if they are buzzing and every single one of their noise hairs will be burning with agony. They declare vengeance against the birds of the world, who sing as the sun comes up. This is, in fact, an act of vengeance in itself, an attack against those whose alcoholic fumes took the lives of several birds during the night.

Harold and Tremor awaken almost simultaneously to the sound of a keening shriek, one which sets their teeth on edge and fills Harold with fear. Corpsewalker!

And we left it there.

As you can see, despite only playing for half as long as our previous sessions, they really did get through a lot dialogue. I think it was also a good first session for Wings and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

Our next game is this coming Friday, hopefully with Wings, though he's quite difficult to get a hold of. But we shall see.

Hope you all enjoyed, sorry for the delay,
Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2013-03-19, 09:39 PM
Wow That's A Lot Of Alcohol!!!! Did they win the drinking match? How much did the owner make off of them? Just how hard is it to cast a Teleport spell like that one bad guy did?

Amidus Drexel
2013-03-19, 09:56 PM
Awesome session. I approve of drunken dwarves. :smallcool:


Wow That's A Lot Of Alcohol!!!! Did they win the drinking match? How much did the owner make off of them? Just how hard is it to cast a Teleport spell like that one bad guy did?

I think that "a lot of alcohol" is massively understating what happened... :smallamused:

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-20, 01:56 AM
Well I'm glad you both approve. :smallsmile:

That was indeed a lot of alcohol. An awful, awful lot. :smalltongue: Technically, as Tremor collapsed and Harold tossed it in after three hours, no one really won, which is just about their respective trains of thought when they woke up with such extensive hangovers. But yes, everyone who tried to match them from the beginning went down afore they did. Towards the end, they were challenging blokes who'd come in after the two of them had been drinking for an hour or two already. And often drinking them under too. :smallbiggrin:

Brewer made a hell of a lot off it, though at some point he stopped charging Tremor and Harold as by this stage he was rolling in it and had a lot of money off all the other customers. (I might add that Brewer's prices are quite high usually, so even those who managed to claim the discount were still paying a bit more than the ale was worth. So Brewer could afford to be generous. Consider it the Entertainer's Tax.)

As far as casting a Teleportation-type spell, nigh-on impossible, something the players and their characters know. Suggesting that there is something else at work here.... :smallwink:

Glad you enjoyed it guys,
:smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-22, 09:23 AM
Well that went rather well. :smallwink:

Nice, roughly three and a half hour session, plenty of good-natured ribbing and a slightly more serious tone than last session.

Oh, and Kel'Serrar's past comes back to bite him....

ReaderAt2046
2013-03-22, 09:40 AM
Well that went rather well. :smallwink:

Nice, roughly three and a half hour session, plenty of good-natured ribbing and a slightly more serious tone than last session.

Oh, and Kel'Serrar's past comes back to bite him....

Yay! When can we expect the write-up? Oh, and is there any way to send Breanna a feezy squeez?

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-22, 08:17 PM
Well I expect the write-up to be finished in maybe a week or so. Hopefully. :smallwink:

Oh, and dare I ask, what, pray tell, is a feezy squeez?

ReaderAt2046
2013-03-25, 05:58 PM
Well I expect the write-up to be finished in maybe a week or so. Hopefully. :smallwink:

Oh, and dare I ask, what, pray tell, is a feezy squeez?

Feezy squeezes are a creation of my sister, small fuzzy creatures (about maybe an inch tall in this world), with unknowable magic powers and the personality of about a 6-year-old. Physically, they have a spherical head/body (nobody knows which it is) with a face on one side. They have very big ears, but smallish hands and feet, and no legs or arms. They are obsessed with cheese and powdered sugar, can teleport at will, frequently attempt to literally get in my hair, and a large chunk of them inhabit a demiplane located in my pants pockets...

Yeah. They're weird. But they are also extremely cute and fuzzy, so they match Bree really well.

Phoenixguard09
2013-03-25, 09:24 PM
Well I've started the write-up, about half an hour into the three and a half hour session. :smallwink:

I shall attempt to pass on the fezzy squeez to LD. It is my humble and solemn duty to do so.

On another note, wow they got off topic last month. And it's interesting to note that they really lost track of the important stuff they need to do.

Without giving away too much, they didn't follow up on their failed investigations, but instead went out and tried to find the bandit camp.

I mean okay, Kel'Serrar has a massive hatred of bandits and Harold really wants to beat up something weaker than he is for once, but still, this could be disastrous.

Stay tuned, :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-17, 10:00 AM
Session 2.2: The Lady in Red

Okay we started out by allocating dice to everyone as Wings doesn’t have any D10’s and Sins and Dev forgot theirs, meaning that Ladyhawk, LD and I had to split our dice between everyone. It was difficult to manage but we sorted it all out swiftly enough.

We now begin where we left off, with Harold and Tremor awakening in the party’s cart.


Harold and Tremor awaken almost simultaneously to the sound of a keening shriek, one which sets their teeth on edge and fills Harold with fear. Corpsewalker!

And then he looks around and takes in the grins Breanna and Kel’Serrar are trying to hide with varying amounts of success. A look of comprehension slowly begins to draw across Harold’s face, even as the startled Dwergar next to him looks around frantically for the threat.

Breanna secretly used Phantom Noise to emulate a Corpsewalker’s scream in order to freak out the two drunkards. Cue hilarity from Ladyhawk and Sins. Admittedly, after the first few moments of shocked realisation, even Dev and Wings found it distinctly hilarious.

After some time trying to get their bearings, Harold and Tremor get up, with some difficulty and gasping in exquisite agony.

Both Harold and Tremor suffer from a -10 to any Skill Checks until they can get cleaned up and feeling better due to the massive hangovers. Usually it would be a -5 but this was a LOT of alcohol.

The five of them are arranged around in the courtyard where this all began, Tremor having joined their number and assimilated fairly well into the group. On the other hand, with yesterday’s distinct lack of success in finding out more information on the cult, they are no nearer to the core of the situation.

“Food…. Now…” – Harold to himself, face in his hands, trying to force the pounding in his head to go away. Funny how drinking always seems like fun until the next morning when the birds are singing and the sun shines brightly.

There is some semi-out of character chatter here as the others make fun of Harold’s predicament in particular. Dev responds with threats of violence, but Ladyhawk delivers the kicker.
“I have a spell which creates blazing light….. Don’t piss me off.” – Ladyhawk.

“I’m going to go get something to eat.” – Harold, struggling to stand up from his seat on the fountain. “Tremor, do you want to come with me?”

With a groan, Tremor stands and walks with the Invarrian, the two of them attempting to find a tavern they can order a meal and clean themselves up in. As they walk off, Harold whistles to his marcwolf pup, wincing in pain as he does so. Yet the pup perks up his ears and bounds after the two of them, yapping quietly to himself and keeping pace with them with a happy expression.

While Harold and Tremor go on their way, Kel’Serrar finds himself another tavern in the opposite direction, Maebh sits with her horse, looking after it, thinking to herself and enjoying the peace and quiet. Breanna on the other hand picks up her marcwolf pup and sits down in the shade of a tree, playing with it and just resting. After all, you never know when another life or death situation might come up, and a little bit of rest couldn’t hurt.

After some time, Tremor ends up leading Harold to the Iron Moon Inn, the very same establishment Tremor was staying in before he met up with the rest of the group. They open the door and hear a gruff voice from inside.

“No dogs allowed in here.” – Barkeep, wiping a tankard.
He looks up and sees the two walk in, missing the marcwolf pup at their feet and apologises.
“Sorry, I thought I could smell wet dog.” – Barkeep, realising that he can in fact smell mankyInvarrian.

Harold and Tremor order a large breakfast, rooms for the use of the baths and glasses of water and brandy to try and see off some of this infernal pain. They set to it, first washing up to be more respectable, Harold feeling sorry for the state of his clothing as he takes his bath, noticing once he starts to take it off that it’s ripped and bloodstained beyond almost all recognition.

All the same, he has nothing else, so he puts the shredded garments back on, hiding the pup in his backpack again. It’s going to be a far more difficult to do this soon as those pups won’t stay small and young forever.

And for that matter, those pups might be cute and friendly now, but without some proper training, they’re going to be vicious predators with no restraint when they grow up. Lucky Harold and Breanna have Animal Training, not so lucky that neither of them is particularly good at it.

After washing up, both come downstairs to eat their breakfasts and get as much fluid as possible into their systems in an attempt to flush out the alcohol. After some time, the marcwolf pup clambers out of Harold’s pack, sitting on the floor next to the Invarrian who reaches down to give the little creature some choice pieces of bacon, which are set upon with cute, slavering ferocity.

-5 penalties now which will hang around for the next three hours in game. This is instead of the -10’s they were dealing with.


The barman looks disapprovingly at the marcwolf but holds his tongue and lets it slide.

Kel’Serrar manages to find the fourth tavern in Summer Hill, the Golden Arrow and orders water and raw meat, garnering him a funny look from the edgy barman. After all, there’s no one else in the common-room apart from the carnivorous Danann and the barman, who looks confused at the savage meal and the distinctly un-manly beverage.

Kel’Serrar is completely unconcerned. After all, what should he care what the barman thinks?

Some off-topic where Wings asks about investing in a business, The Iron Moon in particular.

Heading back to the cart, Harold and Tremor go through what is left of the ‘loot,’ Tremor taking anything he feels he could use in the future, namely a pair of leather bracers. The rest they gather up and look to take it to the marketplace, hoping to find someone to take it off their hands. Unfortunately for them, finding someone who will take this war equipment off their hands in a relatively quiet town is quite difficult, only managing to get rid of a jerkin and the scimitar. Even with a bit of haggling, Harold is unable to get an amount equal to the armour’s worth. That being said, this particular jerkin was EradanBlackstar’s, who after all, was impaled through the jerkin by a Feartarbh horn. And the jerkin hasn’t exactly been cleaned, nor repaired.

Breanna meanwhile sets her pup to sleep after an intense playing session and climbs the tallest tree in the courtyard, ostensibly Kel’Serrar’s tree, before settling down to take a nap.

The party takes inventory again after heading back to the cart with a little extra weight in the pockets. Maebh claims the tower shield they were unable to sell, figuring it might come in handy as a spell component, if not, perhaps it could be used to deflect arrows and the like. Tremor on the other hand takes a chain hauberk, wearing it under his leather jerkin, plus the pair of leather bracers. Only the head of Manius’ maul is left in the cart with no one claiming it for any use.

A bit of out of character discussion regarding whether or not they should take on the bandit camp out to the north, or try and follow on their failed task from yesterday. Looking back on it I wish I had insisted this be in character, as it really should have been, but I slipped up here.

“Alright, we’re going to sort out these bandits then, because they might have something to do with Elspeth and because the bloody Leathe messed up, we still don’t know who needs to die here.” – Harold, summing it all up.

“Well, it’s about time.” – Kel’Serrar, with grim determination.

“I’m so glad you’re excited, because you’re usually so indifferent.” – Dev, slightly sarcastic. We think.

Anyway, the party heads back to the courtyard to pick up Breanna, Kel’Serrar spotting her in the highest branches of his tree. There was some talk about throwing objects at her to knock her out of the tree, but, well, thankfully they agreed with me that would be stupid.

As it is, Kel’Serrar climbs the tree and shakes the Leathe girl awake, before pushing her out of the tree. Breanna screams as she falls, cursing Kel’Serrar. Luckily for her, Maebh drives the cart underneath the tree, and Breanna tumbles as she lands on the back of the wagon, diffusing most of the impact of her landing. With a quiet laugh, Kel’Serrar drops out of the tree and strides along beside the cart.

And they’re on their way, heading out of Summer Hill once more and back out onto the north road at about mid-morning. Their journey is uneventful, however, looking behind them, Kel’Serrar spots a lean figure in dark red on the road towards Summer Hill. He brings this up with the others, but only Breanna is in a state where she’s able to see the figure. The whole party seems to be advocating killing their follower, but Harold stays his hand.
“Let’s not just jump to conclusions about killing them out of hand.” – Harold, not wanting to become known as the Order of the Murder-Hobo. Surprising really, considering his usual temperament.

“Whoever it is, it’s keeping up with us, right? What if I jumped off and hid in the bushes and followed whoever it is?” – Tremor, thinking deeply.

“Well, I think she’d be better for it than you.” – Harold, pointing at Breanna.
“Or even him.” – Maebh at Kel’Serrar.
“Actually, I think Breanna could do it better than I could.” – Kel’Serrar, shaking his head.
“No I couldn’t! I’m just shorter, why couldn’t you just bend down!?” – Breanna, realising it’s a dangerous situation and trying her best to avoid it.
“Well, I can hide, but she can turn invisible.” – Kel’Serrar, making his case.
“Technically I don’t turn invisible…” – Breanna.
“Still better than what we’ve got.” – Maebh.
“Bugger.” – Breanna.

Breanna is still bitter about her wake-up call, despite the fact that she came out of it smelling like roses.

“After being so rudely asked to do this, I’ll leap off the side and hide in the bushes on the side of the road.” – LD.
“Can you not jump? Could you maybe… slither?” – Wings, tentatively.
“I CAN’T BLOODY SHAPESHIFT! YOU WANT ME TO BE A SNAKE ALL OF A SUDDEN!? BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU’VE GOT!” – LD, ballistic.
She calms down after a bit.
“Fine, I’ll use Shadowskin before I leap off the cart.”

Breanna tenses slightly as she calls up the daemonic entity, getting a good hold on it and starts to drain its power. She then takes the energy and cloaks herself in shadow before sailing through the air drawing attention to herself with her arcing dive, a half-pike double twist with a squeeze of lime, and losing herself amongst the thick undergrowth alongside the road.

She lies in wait as the wagon trundles on towards the overturned carriage. After almost fifteen minutes of waiting, the Leathe can see their follower. She is a tall, young, slender woman with long brown wavy hair and dark eyes. She is wearing a dark red tunic and tall leather boots. She appears unarmed, but it would be folly to walk out on the roads without any protection. She also bears a long, pale scar running down the side of her neck.

As an aside, through the whole description, Ladyhawk is telling the party to, “Kill it.”

As the woman passes Breanna’s hiding place, the Leathe can see that she is definitely following the cart, looking at the tracks the cart and its heavy load have pressed into the roadway. Breanna’s lucky she is so light and the ground so hard-packed that she didn’t leave any readily apparent traces of her passage. Seeing this, the Leathe decides to follow the woman, daggers held ready in her hands.

Almost an hour after Breanna left them, the rest of the party comes across the place where the carriage careened off the road weeks ago. They quickly discuss whether they should blaze a trail and take the wagon with them, or if they should leave it behind, in which case it might be stolen or ruined.

In the end, Maebh unhitches the horse and takes the shield out of the cart, slinging it over her back. Everyone grabs their equipment and supplies, Tremor grabbing Breanna’s and Harold taking her marcwolf pup, before overturning the wagon on the side of the road.

The party then follows the trail which has changed only little since they passed it last, heading towards the overturned carriage, and then past it and onwards to the old marcwolf cave they sheltered in several nights before. The plan is to leave the horse and marcwolves there and set up camp before Harold and Maebh head back to pick up Breanna.
They don’t end up leaving the animals in the cave, but instead take them with them.

Meanwhile Breanna watches as her quarry stalks along the road ahead, eventually coming across the overturned wagon. The Leathe watches as the tall woman bends down to inspect underneath the cart, probably checking if there is anything in it. Knowing that her Shadowskin has already been in use for almost an hour, she uses the last of the daemon's energy to renew her spell.

"Ummm, uh... Can I ask how tall she is right now?" - LD, pondering her next move.
"Her head is at a lower height than yours at the moment." - Me.
"Awesome! Then I'm gonna go slit her throat!" - LD, cheerful.
"WHY!?" - Dev, in agony.
"Well then, maybe, YOU should have gone and hid. You didn't think this through at all did you?" - LD, unrepentant.
"Ah, well, she'll probably miss anyway." - Dev.
"64!" - LD, happily, still getting the hang of the idea of rolling low to succeed....

The Leathe assassin glides across the ground like a dull grey ghost, silent as the grave, knife at the ready, but at the last her strike goes wide, the woman's shoulder raising accidentally as the Leathe moves in for the kill. Breanna's forearm slams into the red-clad woman’s shoulder, who instinctively rises to her feet, pushing backwards into her invisible assailant. Breanna stumbles back, and darts away into the bushes again, hiding from her target.

The woman, looking around frantically, draws a longknife which she holds in an icepick grip and scans the deepening shadows under the forest canopy for her assailant.

Still shrouded in shadow, Breanna waits for about a quarter of an hour before taking up her trusty carving knife. Hefting the small but heavy blade, the Leathe flips it in her hand so she is holding the blade before running up to her target and swinging the hilt with all of her might into the back of the woman's head.

LD takes her first Strength Check to knock the woman out and rolls an 89 failing by sixty-two. Luckily she picked up the Sturdy Trait thanks to her punctual interview, allowing her to re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Checks every day. She rolled again and this time scored a 16, passing by eleven.

The woman in red sinks to the ground with the solid hit, thoroughly unconscious.

Seeing this, Breanna snatches the longknife from the woman’s fingers and darts down the trail in an attempt to chase down her companions, catching up to them in a matter of minutes.

“Harold, I need you to come pick up a body.” – Breanna’s disembodied voice. “Oh right, wait a second.”
She dismisses the Shadowskin.
"I need you to follow me and come pick up this unconscious body.” – Breanna.
“Okay, everyone, I’m going to follow Breanna. We’ll meet you at the cave. Oh, and Kel’Serrar, can I please borrow some rope?” – Harold.
“Only if I have to give it to you.” – Kel’Serrar, grudgingly handing over his rope.
“Thank you. You are a valued member of the team.” – Harold, sort of sarcastic. We think.

The two of them head back to the unconscious woman, Harold still using his staff to keep moving easily. Within ten minutes they come upon the woman who was following them, still sprawled where Breanna’s strike put her down. Harold quickly ties her hands together behind her back, slings her over his shoulder and carries her onwards to the cave, the whole party back together again.

More to come. :smallbiggrin: It just happens to be here. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15108461&postcount=46)

ReaderAt2046
2013-04-17, 10:07 AM
"cute, slavering ferocity"-very funny.

And maybe I've just read too much ASOIAF recently, but I'm sure the Red Woman was supposed to be an important and powerful ally. Me thinks the party might be in trouble now...

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-17, 10:08 AM
Here it is.

Once there, the Invarrian takes some rope and lashes the unconscious woman in a sitting position against a large boulder, specifically facing a direction in which she cannot see the horribly mangled corpse Maebh strung up into the trees almost a week ago. He then takes out his drinking bowl.

“Can I get some water in this please?” – Harold, to Maebh.
Silently, the Danann mage sends some water trickling out her hands and into the drinking utensil.

Taking the now full bowl, Harold walks over to the tied up woman and splashes it on her face, drenching her upper body. She wakes up spluttering, scared and obviously with a massive headache.

Dev considers asking the rest of the group to leave the immediate area here.
“Well, we’re not interrogating her.” – Harold.
“What are you going to do then?” – Maebh.
“Uh, I was thinking charming her.” – Harold.
Everyone cracks up.
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF CRAP!” – Harold, exasperated.
“I’ll get the bandages….” – Kel’Serrar, resigned.
“You’ve tied her to a boulder, how charming could you possibly be?”
“I want to hear this played out actually.” – Sins.

The others back off a small distance, but all of them are within earshot and Kel’Serrar has an arrow nocked and ready.

“I am sorry about my associate knocking you out. I had no choice in the matter. What’s your name?” – Harold, putting on his best ‘I’m a sweet, lovable dog-man, not a vicious killer,’ voice.

“Can you let me go first?” – Red-clad woman, eyes darting from side to side.
Slowly, steadily so as not to startle her, the Invarrian reaches across and unties the ropes. Despite this, he is still somewhat wary, hand on the hilt of one of his swords.

“My name is Dhara.” – Dhara, smiling with just a little more goodwill than before.

A Southlander name.

“So why were you following us Dhara?” – Harold, gently.
“Oh, I saw you in Summer Hill and thought there was something suspicious about the Harvest Wolf. I saw your performance there yesterday and I realised that we were on the same side. So I wanted to come and meet with you, share information and find out what you know about this business.” – Dhara, earnestly.

“Well, why don’t you tell us what you know first, and then we’ll tell you?” – Harold.
“Well, I’m afraid I really don’t know that much. I’ve only recently found an interesting correlation between Morgaris Shylocke and Petyr Rangard. I think they might be working together on something which bodes ill for Summer Hill.” – Dhara.

“Hmm, now that adds up with why Rangard would want that Focus Stone. I mean, they are trying to summon a giant daemon, a Focus Stone would help.” – Kel’Serrar.

“This is true.” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar. He turns back to Dhara. “We were actually hired by Rangard. Unfortunately, we are not sure what is actually happening, but for now we’re just trying to get some information. There is a bandit camp in the area. We’re trying to find it.”

“Ah yes, I know of this bandit camp. A notice was actually put up in the area about a month ago, warning the town as a whole that bandits were in the area. They should be just to north-west of here.” – Dhara, nodding. She’s trying to helpful.

“Breanna, I believe you have her knife.” – Harold, holding his hand out expectantly. Breanna hands it over. Holding the blade of the longknife in his hand, the Invarrian offers the woman back her knife.

“Why thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again when I woke up without it.” – Dhara, sheathing the blade in the scabbard down her leg.

“You’re coming with us to the bandit camp. I think we’d all appreciate it if you would watch our backs for us.” – Harold, using his staff to push back to his feet.
“That’s good, I’m happy to help. I have a feeling you’re all working towards the good of Summer Hill.” – Dhara, also getting to her feet, a little unsteady due to the headache.
“Okay, we’re moving out.” – Harold, to the rest of the party.

The group heads out in a north-west direction, pushing out into the wilds in the vague direction of the bandit camp they know is out there. After some time, Tremor heads off further to the west, thinking to flank the camp. Before he leaves, Harold hands him one of his shortswords.

As they walk, Breanna approaches Dhara.
“You know, I’m really sorry you got mugged by that really weird Leathe guy who just showed up told me I could have his knife. When I asked where he got it from, he said from an unconscious girl down the road.” – Breanna, failing her Deception Check.

“No that’s okay, I know why you had to do it.” – Dhara smiling, though rubbing the back of her head.
“How did you know it was me!?” – Breanna, indignant.

Tremor, by himself, is as wary as he can be, scanning the treeline. He is rewarded for his efforts when he spies a flet in the branches of a tall tree. He knows from experience that this platform would be manned by two sentries as part of the picketline. He looks around for a way further in without alerting the camp, but he finds nothing.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group spots another flet in the tress ahead of them, even in the failing light. Breanna’s keen eyes strain, but as far as she can tell, no one is standing on it.

“Hmm, so you guys can’t see anyone up there?” – Harold.
“No.” – Kel’Serrar and Breanna.
“Okay then, go up there and kill them without them knowing you were here.” – Harold, to Breanna.
She struggles with a daemon and puts her Shadowskin back on while Harold unclasps his cuirass and hides it behind a tree, thinking to allow him to walk a bit quieter.

Breanna, sneaking through the undergrowth, scales the tree silently, a dark and deadly ghost. She clambers up onto the flet and looks around wildly, daggers held at the ready.

There is no one there.

“Roughly what time is it?” – Sins.
“About six in the evening.”
“THEY’RE ALL ASLEEP!” – Wings. The way he said it was hilarious. Might be one of those things you have to be there for.

From her new vantage point, Breanna looks around and can see a few more flets up in the trees, but none of them appear to be in use.

A passed Intelligence Check from Breanna confirms that she knows that the setup of flets is a picket line. But only Kel’Serrar picks up that this is an unusual level of organisation for a woodland bandit camp.

“We should probably all be together for this.” – Harold, quietly. Kel’Serrar nods in agreement.
“I’ll get Tremor then.” – Kel’Serrar, who slinks off into the undergrowth to find the engineer.

Tremor, hunkered down and watching the flet he found, finds Kel’Serrar materialising out of the undergrowth to his right. After a short, relatively cordial discussion, Tremor and Kel’Serrar head back to the rest of the group to find out what Harold wants him for.

While Kel’Serrar’s finding the dwarf, Harold silently beckons Breanna down.

“What’s the situation Breanna?” – Harold.
“There’s absolutely nothing up there. I could see quite a few platforms, but nothing on them. No people, no weapons, nothing. They must all be asleep or something.” – Breanna.

Taking a deep whiff of the air, Harold finds that he can’t seem to pick up any smells which would indicate recent habitation. It looks as if the bandits have moved on.

But there is one smell which does stand out, faint, but definitely there.

I ask Harold to make an Intelligence Check to see if he can put it all together.
“Oh good, I have a good Intelligence score!” – Dev, happily.
Snickers erupt from the group.
“It’s true, I do!” – Dev, indignant.
“What is it then?” – Sins.
“42.” – Dev.
Silence.
“Wow.” – Wings.
“How….. Are YOU smarter than ME!?” – LD.
To put it in perspective, Maebh’s is the second highest on 36. Tremor’s is still mid-twenties, but he is a level below the others. Breanna has no such excuse.

Suddenly Harold’s mind clicks the pieces of the puzzle together. It’s a Danann scent, but it’s neither of the two he’s been travelling with. This scent is too raw and strong. This is a different smell of death and decay.

As Kel’Serrar and Tremor appear from amongst the trees, the Invarrian prepares to move.
“I want you to stay here please. We’ll come back for you, but this could be dangerous.” – Harold, to Dhara. She nods in reply and silently takes the horse’s guide-rope from Maebh.
Waving the party onwards silently, Harold leads the way along the overgrown woodland track, quietly sneaking past a few more abandoned flets. After a few minutes of this, they reach a clearing.

The centre of the clearing is a blackened circle, roughly six feet across, ringed with stones and filled with ash a charred wood. It would seem to be a rudimentary fire pit. Kel’Serrar walks over to it and surmises it hasn’t been used in at least a week.

There are several bare patches in the grass on the ground where it is likely tents were pitched, but they are gone now.

Aside from those patches and the fire pit, there is nothing in the clearing which suggests habitation, no signs of life in the immediate vicinity.
“Let’s look for tracks, shall we?” – Tremor, rubbing his hands together.

After a short time, they find some old, faint human-ish tracks, milling around. Maebh is particularly lucky, noting a large and very strange paw-print.
“Aww no, not another marcwolf!” – Dev.
“Actually, this is bigger than the average marcwolf’s print….” – Ominously…..
“Oh crap, a grizzly bear!” – Dev….

The party clusters around the print, but none of them can identify the creature. From the facing of the print, it appears to be heading in an approximately southerly direction. Worryingly, the most recent human tracks all seem to be going in the same direction, a beeline straight for the road.

“Maybe we should get Dhara. You never know, she did follow us, she might be good at this sort of thing.” – Tremor.
Admittedly, there is a big difference between following a few minutes behind a loud, noisy group of adventurers in a cart in the middle of the day and following faint, week-old tracks in the undergrowth, but at least he was being logical.
“Fair enough. I’ll go see if she will have a look.” – Harold, nodding in agreement.
Harold heads back to the first flet to go get her.

He fetches her, even in the fading light and brings her back to the clearing. Harold shows her Maebh’s paw-print and even in the darkness can see by the widening of her eyes that she has some sort of recognition.
“I’m not seeing much here.” – Dhara, shrugging ruefully.
“She lied, kill her.” – Ladyhawk.

“Well… Let’s see if there’s any clues to be found back in that cave.” – Harold.
He takes Maebh and Dhara with him, probably not thinking it safe to leave Dhara unsupervised.

Meanwhile the others keep looking around the abandoned campsite, but by now the light is failing and they can’t find anything of use. Tremor swiftly gives up on that and instead looks for herbs and other plants to harvest, thinking to start up an alchemy/apothecary business on the side once he can settle down a bit.

Having climbed into the nearest flet to the clearing, Kel’Serrar peers down at the ground with his keen eyes. While he finds nothing in terms of physical evidence, his predator senses tell him that there is some sort of pattern and control to the chaotic mass of tracks. He sits back against the tree, eyes closed, and ponders the nature of this chaos.

Meanwhile, Harold, Maebh and Dhara are walking back to the cave. Scanning the ground, Maebh notices a single trail of human tracks leading directly into the cave, fairly fresh and light. As far as Maebh can tell, whatever made this did so within the last two days.

As it is quite dark now, Harold asks Maebh to go hunting to get some dinner. While she does so, he gathers up some dry wood to serve as fuel for a fire. Dhara meanwhile just looks lost, staring up into the trees at something. It takes a while for Maebh to remember that she had strung a flayed man in those very branches just a week prior.

While all this is happening, Tremor gathers up some wood of his own and starts a fire in the abandoned fire pit while Breanna gathers up some berries and other fruits of the forest. Kel’Serrar meanwhile continues to ponder.
“I’m just going to do all the important stuff. You know, start a fire, go to sleep, wash clothes…. I don’t think I got the order right.” – Tremor, to much laughter.

It takes him a while, but Kel’Serrar actually thinks he recognises the pattern. His mind takes him back to some years ago, another bandit camp and a certain escapade with an old companion.
“Oh no….” – Sins.
He can tell from the movement of the prey in this instance that this is the hallmark of a predatory tactic he and Chirya worked on together. However, it would only work with more than one hunter, leaving him with a disturbing thought.

She had replaced him.

And on his way back down the tree, he sees the proof he didn’t need for himself, but for the others. In the elegant script of the Danann Cainte, the letter ‘C.’

Harold on the other hand, for some reason, not wanting to go into the cave anymore, starts to head back along the forest trail, bundle of sticks in hand with Dhara and Maebh with a brace of dead rabbits alongside him.

From their right, echoing menacingly through the shadow shrouded woodland comes a deep, rumbling growl.
"Oh lovely." - Ladyhawk.
Maebh immediately turns to her right, peering into the gloom while Dhara positions herself so that Harold stands between her and whatever is in the undergrowth.

"Keep moving, but slowly. And keep an eye out." - Harold, under his breath.
As soon as he takes his first step, an arrow whistles out of the night, brushing so close to the side of his face he feels a slight tingle from its passage. It embeds itself in the trunk of a tree behind him.

Only his sudden sideways movement saved his life.

"RUN!" - Harold, bellowing to the others and dropping his bundle of firewood.
Together, they bolt back to the camp along the trail.
Behind them, they hear a terrifying, thunderous roar. It is so loud that even the rest of the party in the clearing can hear it, causing both Kel'Serrar and Breanna to hide, one in a little more panic than the other. And it wasn't Breanna keeping calm.

Meawhile, Maebh has started to pull ahead of both Harold and Dhara, the Invarrian due to his injury and the Southlander due to simple anatomy. The Danann has longer legs and a predator's body, built like a wolf.

Tremor stands behind a tree, borrowed shortsword clenched tightly as he prepares to attack whatever his chasing the rest of the party. Obviously Wings hasn't realised that selfless acts are thinly spread in this group.

Breanna meanwhile is hiding in amongst a large clump of berry bushes, nervously eating as she waits to see what is coming down the path. Kel'Serrar stands in his flet from earlier, pressed against the tree and trusting his cloak and the shadows. Looking down the path, Maebh can be seen, running full-pelt towards the fire. She reaches it and turns around, purple threads of magic crackling to life in her hands as she readies herself to face off against whatever was chasing them. As she does so, she can see Harold and Dhara pass Tremor's hiding place almost simultaneously, the Invarrian hobbling now after his initial burst of speed, his injuries having re-opened (again). She also sees Tremor with his sword, standing ready with his back against the tree.

Tremor's heart is racing. He knows that whatever comes down this path next will be the beast that loosed that monstrous roar. He is ready. To fight or to die.

But nothing happens. Silence surrounds them, broken only by the crackle of fire and their ragged breathing.

Hunched over, fighting back a scream of agony, Harold draws his other shortsword over his shoulder and offers it to the slightly built Southlander beside him. She nods her thanks, takes the blade and draws her own dagger with her other hand, her back to the fire. Harold meanwhile, gasps with pain and slowly, carefully draws forth his sabre. It's edge is pitted he has neglected it over the past few days, but it is the best weapon he has. He too stares down the trail, waiting for the monster that was so close to them only moments before.

And then the debate about the pronunciation of dance and nectarine came up again and totally screwed over any tension I had worked hard to develop. Ah well.

Kel'Serrar takes an arrow from his quiver and quietly nocks it to his bow, hoping to remain in hiding.

"Kel'Serrar, do you have any idea what that was!?" - Harold, breaking the silence with his ear-splitting shout.
Kel'Serrar rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer, not wanting to give away his position.
The echo of Harold's shout fades away in the forest and he thinks better of trying to yell out again.

A little bit of discussion about Tremor's background when Wings asks if there's any chance the dwarf has heard of anything like this in his travels. We decided that where Tremor could well have travelled extensively up in the north, there is very little likelihood that he would know very much about the southern lands.

Harold takes a very deep whiff and recognises the smell. Death, decay, wet fur.... He's smelt this before, in the wagon on the way back to Summer Hill, but he was never able to place it.

Where she lies in wait in the bushes, Breanna hears quiet rustling from the undergrowth behind her. And then a low, resonating growl.

Breanna, calling on her magic tries desperately to get her message across without giving away her position. In her haste she loses control of the magic, and suddenly, her fingernails turn black and many of her blood vessels burst. She whimpers quietly in pain, but stifles it swiftly. Sadly, Phantom Noise is not able to deliver anything but two word messages.

The words "CHECK FRUIT!" echo around the clearing in a shrieking, keening tone, one which the party immediately recognises as their Leathe companion in a great deal of anxiety. However the meaning of the phrase is lost on them.... Except Tremor.

And we left it there....

The Wrap-Up:
Sorry that took so long to do, I was really struggling to find time to do it. So once again, 1:06 in the morning and I have university tomorrow morning.

Not much of a wrap-up this time round, but I can say that the next session is scheduled for the 26th of April, which might just give me enough time to get material sorted out for them. And maybe finish the Engineer advance options. :smalltongue:

Cheers and thanks for reading,

ReaderAt2046
2013-04-17, 10:18 AM
Well, we still haven't really seen "Dhara" in action, but at least she seems to be roughly on the party's side. I wonder if we're about to meet Mab's old boyfriend? (Might be a nice therapeutic way for you and Ladyhawk to act out any annoyances you might have with each other).

And on the topic of the magic penalties: owie!

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-17, 10:37 AM
Well I have to say that I don't think Ladyhawk and I have any problems, so luckily we don't need that at the moment. That being said, it's a nice idea. So if the day comes where we do have problems like that, I know what my backup plan is. :P

Cheers,

Amidus Drexel
2013-04-17, 04:05 PM
Interesting. I like this.

I have to agree with Ladyhawk, though; killing people that are suspicious is the safest route. It's hard to be betrayed by a dead person. :smallamused:

"Check Fruit", huh? Hrm... I've got no idea.

ReaderAt2046
2013-04-17, 07:30 PM
Interesting. I like this.

I have to agree with Ladyhawk, though; killing people that are suspicious is the safest route. It's hard to be betrayed by a dead person. :smallamused:


Yeah, but it's also hard to be saved by a dead person.

BTW, Phoenix, will the meaning of the campaign title ever become significant? Or rather, are we supposed to be able to know what it means?

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-17, 10:30 PM
I have told the players that at least one part of the overall campaign title has been revealed, but intriguingly, not the important ones. But yes, the title is relevant. :smallwink:

Mewtarthio
2013-04-18, 03:07 PM
"Check Fruit", huh? Hrm... I've got no idea.

"Investigate the berry bushes"?

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-21, 10:09 PM
I bring good news. Wings hopes to have his background finished by Friday's session and due to a quirk in respective timetables, may well be bringing along a sixth player.

We shall see. keep your fingers crossed, :smallwink:

Phoenixguard09
2013-04-29, 12:48 AM
Great to see GitP is back, I've been frantically checking on it for days now. :smalltongue:

We did play on the 26th, a good 4 and a bit hour session in all, though we ended up with neither Wings' background, nor the extra player.

On the other hand, 1.6 was definitively played.

Next time in Three Coins:
An unseen menace is thwarted, though not without sacrifice, much frantic healing is undertaken and several clues are found through the looking glass of a dwarven-shaped hole in the door. :smallbiggrin:

We are hoping to have the next session on the 10th, a somewhat shorter break than usual as several players have suggested that the current format is not frequent enough.

Cheers,

Doorhandle
2013-05-01, 01:23 AM
Great to see GitP is back, I've been frantically checking on it for days now. :smalltongue:

We did play on the 26th, a good 4 and a bit hour session in all, though we ended up with neither Wings' background, nor the extra player.

On the other hand, 1.6 was definitively played.

Next time in Three Coins:
An unseen menace is thwarted, though not without sacrifice, much frantic healing is undertaken and several clues are found through the looking glass of a dwarven-shaped hole in the door. :smallbiggrin:

We are hoping to have the next session on the 10th, a somewhat shorter break than usual as several players have suggested that the current format is not frequent enough.

Cheers,

Good to see this is still going! can't belive I didn't read it before!

Also, you weren't the only ne perturbed by this site's absence.

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-01, 07:56 PM
Yep, we're still going strong, though I do believe that we will be getting close to the end of the current arc pretty soon.

After that Dev will almost certainly be running a Norbayne game with more or less the same group. We might lose Lady Darkmoon for that one. Dev really wants an evil game, so as her brother I am concerned it might be too dark for her. Although it has been pointed out to me that she's more sadistic than all of us. Combined. :smalltongue:

Depending on what we decide, we might play Three Coins' second arc simultaneously, alternating with Dev's, or we might just play Dev's through and then get back to Three Coins. We shall see.

But the whole group has expressed displeasure at the possibility this arc might not be followed by another, so I think we'll be around for a long while yet. :smallwink:

Glad to see we've attracted another reader. Hope you find it entertaining mate. :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-06, 12:56 AM
Just thought I'd give a quick update on the campaign.

I am over halfway through the write-up but have found it impossible to finish at home with the distraction of Third Age Total War. I intend to do it at university, hopefully tomorrow because Wednesdays and Thursdays are a bit more hectic over there.

We also intend to play Session 1.7 this Friday. Hopefully things will become more clear to everyone. Just waiting to hear from Wings regarding whether he can make it.

Until then, cheers,

EDIT* Almost finished. I hope to have the write-up available tonight.

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-07, 07:53 PM
Session 2.3: And Now For Something Completely Different

Welcome to Session 2.3 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.

As we know, the party -

“For the sake of the recording I’d like to point out that we all lost The Game and you just did too.” – Sins.

Ahem…

As we know the part is being harassed by an, as yet, unseen bestial menace. Maebh, Harold and Dhara have been chased down the woodland path, sprinting as fast as they can to avoid both arrow and beast, before finally coming to a halt with backs to the blazing fire Tremor has built. The Dwergar himself stands with his back to a tree, borrowed blade at the ready, prepared to face down whatever was following the others.

Kel’Serrar meanwhile stands up in his tree-top flet, scanning the darkness for movement, while Breanna huddles in the shadows of some fruit bushes.

From behind her she hears a low, rumbling growl, prompting her to draw the attention of the party to where she hides.

“CHECK FRUIT!” – Breanna’s piercing magical shriek.

As so we come to Tremor, who alone of the party has the presence of mind to do anything about the Leathe’s cry.

“What?” – Tremor, looking around the area, pondering what the voice could be asking of him. Effectively wasting his free action.

Unfortunately for Breanna, the only person aware that the bushes actually contained fruit was Breanna herself. The others were all doing important things while she was stuffing her face with berries.

The bushes explode with violence and a bone-rattling roar. Something goes for Breanna, something she can’t see in the darkness, but she is aware enough of its proximity that she is able to flip out of the way with exceptional ability.

Some brilliant rolling here as Breanna not only sees the attacks coming with a Perception Check of 05, but dodges both with 05 and 03 respectively. This is in addition to her exceptional Dodge bonuses anyway.

I then make a mistake. I tell LD that she did so well that she can tell me what that success results in. They spend over three minutes discussing the outcomes.

“Someone who doesn’t usually succeeds and all of a sudden, we don’t know what to do!” – Sins.
“This is so difficult, I didn’t think this through at all!” – LD
“That’s fairly evident.” – Sins
“Oh no, success is difficult!”

In the end she just flips out of the bushes and into the cleared area.

The sudden movement draws Kel’Serrar’s eye, who prepares a Flaming Arrow. After contemplating the situation for a moment, he draws back and literally fires, blazing a path through the bushes. In a recurring theme for Kel’Serrar, his blind-shot was effective, and a pained roar rings out through the bushland. Whatever he hit retreats further into the forest.

“Any idea what that was Kel’Serrar?” – Maebh, slightly panicked.
Unsurprisingly, the ranger does not respond.

An angry shout is heard and a rain of arrows falls upon Maebh, Harold and Dhara, but the range and uncertain light mean that only one scrapes a gouge in Dhara’s calf and another slams into Maebh’s upper arm.

“Give up the tree-girl and I might let the rest of you live!” – Feminine voice, followed by ominous laughter.
“Give up the tree?” – Dev, confused.
“Girl. Tree-girl. Me!” – LD, not confused.
“Why would she want a possum?” – Wings.
“Leathe are a delicacy to the Danann.” – Dev.
“It’s a Danann is it?” – Ladyhawk.
“Well, I smelt Danann earlier.” – Dev.
“Actually you smelt death and decay. Don’t be racist about it!” – Sins.
“Don’t give me away! I promise that when I die of natural causes I’ll let you both eat me!” – LD
“… Damn… That’s a convincing argument.” – Sins.
“I thought so.” – LD, with a laugh.

“First question. Who the hell are you!?” – Maebh, shouting out to the darkness.
“It doesn’t matter.” – Feminine voice, followed by more low, ominous, mocking laughter.

“I think I’m going to send out a fireball as a bit of a warning shot. Kind of like, “Don’t mess with me bitch.” – Ladyhawk.
“So this is a bit like a ‘Legolas-Gimli’ warning shot is it?”

With a slight growl, Maebh lets go of her readied Bladewall and blazes a flaming trail into the bushes with a Flare. She is greeted with more mocking laughter.

“Should have gone with a bigger ball of fire.” – Maebh, to herself.

Tremor hefts his borrowed sword and runs into the undergrowth, thinking to loop around the hidden archer’s position. On the opposite side of the clearing, Kel’Serrar drops from his vantage point and sneaks around the northern edge himself, although this is less from a desire to find the archer, and more to get in a hidden position.

Breanna, standing in the open, calls up a daemon and cloaks herself in shadows again, falling into the dark embrace with a feeling of optimistic familiarity. Maebh, still near the fire, clads her skin in golden magical plates, provided herself with some form of protection against stuff that wishes to hurt her.
Sins used the opportunity to say ‘massive-bone-scythe-flaming-claws’ three times with considerable speed. He was commended on it, though I don’t think any of us really knows what made him think of it.

Harold meanwhile, rips yet more cloth from his already tattered garments to bind the bleeding wound in Dhara’s leg. Maebh snickers at the obvious pain the woman is in, despite it being a rather small wound.

Tremor, short legs stumping through the undergrowth feels a slight chill as he realises he doesn’t know where the archer is. And then three arrows spit out of the darkness at him. One flies over his shoulder, the archer obviously used to shooter taller opponents, however the other two thud into his chest. The first is mainly turned aside by the leather jerkin, however the other digs deep into the flesh. Tremor takes 7 Damage in all. Angered by this attack on him, the Dwergar snaps the arrow-shaft, tosses it into the bushes and continues his relentless forwards movement.

Breanna too works her way into the bushes, seeing Tremor tracking his way through the undergrowth.

This amused me because it demonstrated to me that the group actually was quite interested in the situation.
“Okay, Perception Checks from Breanna and Kel’Serrar. Oh and Tremor too.”
“Can I do it anyway?” – Ladyhawk.
“Yeah sure, if you just want to roll some dice.”
Dice are rolled.
“Ah bugger.” – Wings, who failed.
“Aww.” – LD, who had also failed.
Various sounds of disappointment from the group as a whole.
“So no passes?”
“Ah! No, I passed with Danann Senses!” – Sins, going through his Traits and Talents.
“Ooh, what does that do? +5% to Perception Checks? Then I passed too.” – Ladyhawk, happily.
“I got a 03!” – Dev, also happily.

With those passes and such enthusiasm for the game, where I literally sat for a minute as they worked out whether they had succeeded without asking me if they had or not, I realised that the group had finally grasped the system itself, which is a great moment as a game designer. So despite not originally intending to count Harold’s and Maebh’s attempts, I did provide them with some information too.

Harold sniffs the air and can still smell rotting flesh and charred meat. Whatever the beast was earlier, it is still around.

Maebh meanwhile, can hear rustling in the bushes as several things move around. People, beasts, friends or foes, she cannot tell, but the darkness behind the treeline hides much detail, even from her keen sight.

Kel’Serrar looks ahead and can see ahead of him, a glint of metal in the moonlight. He assumes it must be an arrowhead. But crucially says nothing.

Tremor, still charging headlong through the undergrowth never sees them coming. Three arrows, two of which slam into his chest once more, and another which hits him in the thigh. He ends up taking a total of 12 Damage. He falls over onto his back, choking on blood and soaking his beard in it. The rest of the group hear his shouts of pain and agony, and Kel’Serrar and Breanna are both near enough to help, but neither of them are very selfless. At all.

Harold heads out towards the shout, heedless of the danger. He starts out trying to run, but eventually devolves into hobbling due to his earlier exertions.

From the direction the arrows came from, Breanna finally sees their tormentor. A tall, painfully thin, almost ghost-like figure in the darkness, cloaked and wielding a recurve bow.

“My early optimism of this fight has just gone down the tube!” – Dev.
“So it’s gone right where it belongs, somewhere in the realm of standard.” – Sins.

Breanna charges towards the figure and takes to her with the carving knife. And for the first time in memory, was actually successful. The excessively sharp blade slams into the archer’s leg.

“Does she scream?” – Ladyhawk, sadistic.
Small silence….
“She’ll do well in my campaign.” – Dev.
For those who don’t know, Dev is planning on running his own Norbayne campaign, probably once Three Coins is finished. The overall premise so far is, “You’re all evil and are completely focussed on obtaining power and ****.”

And yes, there’s a yelp of pain. The archer attempts to backhand the Leathe’s face, but misses completely and runs.

Maebh just laughs in a mocking manner, trying to provoke anger, just because she’s angry herself. Kel’Serrar meanwhile succeeds brilliantly when it comes to patching up Tremor, finding a few herbs in the immediate area which can be used to numb the pain. Tremor is stabilised and the bleeding is more or less stopped, but the dwarf is by no means feeling much better.

They head back to the cart on the road, wanting desperately to get back to the town. Tremor is slung over the horse’s back, as he is certainly not in a position to be able to walk.

Harold goes around and takes his swords back from both Dhara and Tremor, but neither of them are necessarily completely happy about it, although Tremor’s a bit too far gone to complain and Dhara realises her position is tenuous.

Stressed out as they are, it takes the party a fair bit of time to get back to the main road, where their overturned wagon sits. Straining and struggling, Harold eventually manages to lift the cart, but in doing so opens up one of the more serious wounds he received against MacSilver. They also dump Tremor into the back of the cart.

Dawn arrives while they are on the road and it is not until after midday after a sleepless night of travel that they head back through the gates of Summer Hill, somewhat worse for wear. For the first time since they’ve been in Summer Hill, there’s a watch set at the gate. The watchmen merely nod at the group, friendly enough, they don’t stop the party, but all the same, they have not been there before.

“I blow them to shreds.” – Ladyhawk.
“You nod at me? DIE!” – LD, sarcastic and to much laughter.
“I’m sorry, I take that back. They seem nice.” – Ladyhawk.
“She’s going to do REALLY well in my campaign.” – Dev.
“You greeted me with friendliness? DIE! You dress up as a rabbit? DIE!”

Kel’Serrar finds his tree and sleeps in it, pondering the nature of this business and thinking over what he knows of Chirya.

Harold and Tremor find someone who will patch up their injuries, staggering and half-dead as they are. The man they find usually sells ‘healing potions’ and the like, but he is capable of sewing up their wounds. Between the two of them, they pay thirty sulvers, which is twenty less than the original offer. Dhara excuses herself early to go find someone who can patch up her admittedly lesser injury.

Now that he is capable of walking without assistance, Tremor goes looking for an animal breeder, someone who can sell him a creature which he can lavish attention on. He finds one bloke in the surrounding farmlands who breeds dogs for the whole area.
“You really want to find Harold’s parents?” – Sins, cracking us all up. Even Dev found it amusing.
Tremor has a look, but he’s really after something smaller and leaves empty-handed. He spends the next hour or so running through the forest trying to find a “weird and unnatural rodent” to make a pet of. After some time he eventually finds a clearing with a small herd of about ten capail (Propaleotherium (http://www.abc.net.au/beasts/evidence/prog1/images/evi_propaleotherium_large.jpg)), but his sudden movement startles them and they bugger off soon enough. Eventually he ventures back to town, disappointed, but at the same time inspired. After all, why make friends if he can literally make friends….

Harold meanwhile goes to the market district, obtaining new clothes and getting the nicks and chips in his swords fixed up. After that he gets his armour fixed up too, depositing his cuirass and hauberk. He waits in the Harvest Wolf for the armourers and weapon-smiths to finish their work, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be suspicious. He is to be disappointed and leaves.

Breanna finds an inn where she hopes to obtain some food. She eventually ends up at the Iron Moon, whose barkeep doesn’t approve of dogs. He is about to inform the Leathe as such as he looks up, but takes in her unnaturally bouncy, happy gait and assortment of knives and decides that it isn’t worth it. He turns back to wiping one of the tankards and takes her order, which is bread and ham, the latter of which she feeds to her marcwolf pup on the floor. Breanna, like most Black Magic users, gives off a distinct aura of wrongness. When added to her overly cheerful persona, it is VERY off-putting. The bartender knows that one moment she could be happily cutting her meat, the next, happily cutting his throat. And her marcwolf pup, which is now approaching sheltie size, is on hand to dispose of any evidence….

Last time a marcwolf came in his tavern, this particular barkeep realized swiftly that disapproval of the pup would possibly result in his face being punched in. And therefore, he would not be touching it with a ten-foot pole, which for some reason happens to be standard-issue equipment for adventurers. What supermarket stocks ten-foot steel poles?

After her afternoon tea, Breanna finds a nice shady tree and sits beneath it, playing with her marcwolf, quietly so as not to wake Kel’Serrar.

Lastly, Maebh unhitches the horse from the wagon and leads it through the township, looking for someone who can patch her up, but her investigations lead her to an old dwelling at the edge of the town, owned by an interesting woman, Old Maggie. She is known for her skill in herblore and when she opens her door and sees the mage standing there looks very concerned and immediately brings her inside, applying salves with a great deal of skill and speed. Maebh immediately feels better as the medicine dulls the pain from the magical burns she forgot she was feeling.

After applying the salve, the woman suggests Maebh rest and kindly offers her the bed. A few hours later, Maebh comes down and offers five sulvers, three of which Old Maggie eventually takes, leaving the other two.
“Keep them, you’ll need them more than I.” – Old Maggie, cryptically.
“Oh yay, crypticism!” – Dev, making words up again.
After leaving Old Maggie, Maebh finds some craftsmen and obtains a saddle and tack for her horse. She then spends the rest of the afternoon getting the horse used to the riding gear.

They rendezvous at the courtyard where they left the cart and Kel’Serrar, before deciding that visiting Rangard might be a good idea.
“I’d like to point out that our little red-clad friend has not come back.” – Kel’Serrar, pointedly referring to Dhara.
“Wait, what did we tell her?” – Breanna, worried.
“Nothing too much, but she has bailed.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Well, she hasn’t necessarily bailed.” – Harold.
“She said she’d find a healer and meet up with us again. She’s not here and it’s been a whole afternoon.” – Kel’Serrar.
“She’s bailed.” – Tremor.
“Yeah, she’s bailed.” – Harold, conceding the point.

While they’re discussing this, Rangard himself shows up, his many eyes having informed him of the party’s return.
“So, how did you go?” – Rangard, referring to the investigation of the Harvest Wolf.
“In a word, crap.” – Harold.
“I have some news for you. I sent Meldith after your own assassin the other day when you went to the Harvest Wolf. She tells me that Shylocke was seen fleeing the premises. He must be working against us, though not necessarily with the actual cult itself. It might be worth having a look at his manse.” – Rangard, after laughing at Harold’s reply.
“Thank you for the information, we’ll take it from here.” – Harold.
Rangard nods his acquiescence and walks away.
Ladyhawk suggest blowing him up as he walks off.

Harold details a plan involving Breanna breaking into the back of the house with Kel’Serrar providing overwatch. Maebh, Harold and Tremor were going to hold Shylocke’s attentions, hopefully stopping him from noticing Breanna’s investigations.

The whole thing just dissolved into laughter, despite the plan probably being rather good. And then they got pretty off-topic talking about coffee going up your nose, which amazingly fixes blocked noses with startling efficiency. Apparently it destroys your olfactory organs for a few days, but at least you can breathe.

And then they went back on topic, but only for as long as it took to explain what had already been explained, namely that Breanna would be sneaking in before Geoff pointed out that the Mission Impossible theme music would fit. Ladyhawk countered with Pink Panther’s, myself with Get Smart.

Interestingly enough, this came up a bit later but when it was pointed out how similar the party dynamic is compared to OotS, Ladyhawk informed me that she saw a girl in her lecture reading either Start of Darkness or Origin of PC’s. They hi-fived.


“Would there be any people in there?” – Breanna, wondering just how sneaky she’ll need to be.
“I’d say yes.” – Harold.
‘There’d be servants. He’s wealthy.” – Kel’Serrar.

Harold goes in search of a beggar in a back-alley. Maebh just happens to go along with him. Before they go, Breanna stops the Invarrian and flips him three sulvers to give to the beggars as payment. After a moment’s delay, she tags along anyway.

Kel’Serrar goes off to scout out the target’s house, looking around and figuring out the general layout of the manse, while staying inconspicuous. He finds the place in the Merchant District. The manse is quite large, of similar scale or even larger than Rangard’s, two stories and constructed of wood. The second story is considerably smaller than the ground level, probably only one room. He can see there are two large closed and obscured by curtains dominating the front of the house. It seems that the place is empty at the moment.

The street is also deserted, the time being such that everyone is enjoying their evening meals, either inside their own houses or out in the town proper. Thus it is easy for Kel’Serrar to remain unnoticed. He also finds two good vantage points, one on the roof of the dwelling on one side, the other at the window of the second story house on the other side, which would probably require breaking into the house.

Tremor meanwhile has obviously been affected by his recent near-death experience and walks down into the Merchant District himself. He too finds Shylocke’s house and knocks on the door.

Harold finds himself a beggar, huddling in destitute poverty. The man looks up at the Invarrian and Harold can detect a glint of both anger and fear in his eyes. Harold takes one of Breanna’s sulvers and flicks it over his fingers.
“There’s a sulver in it for you if I can get some information.” – Harold, trying to barter.
“What do you want from me, dog?” – Beggar, and not in the Randy Jackson meaning of the term. At least I think its Randy Jackson. The bloke from American Idol. I don’t know, I don’t watch television much.
“Anything you might know about Morgaris Shylocke.” – Harold.
“What do you think I’d know about him?” – Beggar.
“Anything you little twerp.” – Maebh, over Harold’s shoulder, sitting astride her horse. She had moved up beside him while the Invarrian was talking.
“Shh.” – Harold, before turning back to the beggar. “Beggar’s eyes are everywhere.”
“What are you trying to say?” – Beggar, getting angry again.
“That you know things most-“ – Harold, placating.
“Do I look like a beggar to you!?” – Beggar, very angry.
Silence…
“Yes…” – Harold, slightly amused.
The beggar hunkers down where he has made his own little dwelling in this little alley and refuses to give any further information.
“My turn.” – Maebh, dismounting. Harold shrugs, turns and walks away.
The mage picks the man up by the throat and shoves him up against the wall. The wiry Danann is easily strong enough to do so, not letting the squirming man loose. In her other hand she calls up a tongue of flame and holds it up to the beggar’s face.
“Now you should answer the questions my friend just asked you. Because I want to know too.” – Maebh, intimidating.
“He didn’t ask me anything!” – Beggar, thoroughly scared.
“I burn him.” – Ladyhawk. And it’s official, Maebh just took a dive into the deep-end of the alignment pool. If Norbayne had one.
The Danann presses the flame into his cheek and revels in the scent of burning flesh and his screams of pain.
“Honestly! He just wanted information on Shylocke! The merchant!” – Beggar, through agonised shrieks.
“Oh right. Sorry about that.” – Maebh, taking the flame away, and at least having the decency to look sort of apologetic.
“Now tell me everything.” – Maebh.
The beggar says straight out that he finds it unbelievable that they ask about pretty much the richest man in town and expect just about the poorest to know everything about him, but he gives what he can, scared of the wild-woman with her fire.

He tells them that the merchant is unmarried and has a business rivalry with Rangard, one that has escalated since Rangard’s company became dominant in the region. Somewhat less of him has been seen in recent times too.

Maebh sets him back on the ground and flicks him two coppers before mounting up and riding away.
“I’ve given up on the beggars, with them being *******s.” – Dev.
“And, I’m better at it than you.” – Ladyhawk, smug.
“No, I was being nice.” – Dev, defensive.
“It’s like good cop bad cop. Except your harassing defenceless beggars. You know, old men in cardboard boxes.”
“It’s like bad cop, worse cop.” – Sins.
“Hey I was offering him money if he’d help us.” – Dev, still defensive.
“You’re a six foot tall dog man, armed to the teeth, standing over him in a dark alley and flicking coins at him.”
“Heads you live, tails you die!” – Wings.

The Invarrian, Leathe and Danann head off towards the manse, and as they arrive, they come to the realisation that something awful is happening….

More to come.... (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15192511&postcount=59)

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-07, 08:09 PM
Told you so. :smallwink:

Cut to Tremor, who is knocking on the door to Shylocke’s manse. Eventually it is opened by a servant, who looks out. And then down.
“What?” – Servant, not appreciating this interruption to his servant duties.
“Hi.” – Tremor, presumably about to say something more.
The door is slammed in his face.
“I don’t like him. I’m going to knock down the door.” – Wings.
Tremor sets his boot to the door, but the sturdy wood resists his attempt to break through and he can hear an amused snort from the other side. So the Dwergar turns to other methods. He backs up onto the road and then charges at the door, using his body as a veritable compact battering ram, smashing a massive rent in the bottom half of the door, his momentum carrying him through into the greeting hallway. The servant, with a stunned look on his face, falls to the side against the wall. Tremor slaps him in the face.
“That was extremely rude.” – Tremor, angry, yet eloquent.
“Door…. Dwarf….” – Servant, dazed, confused and in no small amount of pain.

Harold looks on as Tremor smashes through the door, bowing his head with the agony of it all.
“Why must I be surrounded by idiots?” – Harold, bemoaning his luck.
“That’s it, I’m casting Flare on him.” – Ladyhawk, with a laugh.
“Which I block, because I am a badass.” – Dev.
*Facepalm*
“Behold! TPK!” – Sins, as if reading from some kind of holy text.

“Breanna, time to go around the back, there’s your distraction.” – Harold, trying to salvage the situation.

Breanna starts trying to contribute her own plans here, though she seems not to have quite grasped that the point of the distraction was to get her inside and unnoticed, rather than her causing a distraction herself. I’ve condensed the whole thing because some tempers flared here and quite honestly it was just a bit of confusion because both of the girls have a tendency not to listen when the game doesn’t directly focus on them. Eventually LD accedes to Dev’s plan, mainly because Ladyhawk explained the whole thing without any violent remarks, something Dev finds difficult to do when no one listens to him. We moved on.

“I pick up the servant and throw him at the others.” – Wings, inordinately proud of this plan.

Picking up the stunned servant, Tremor grabs him the collar of his tunic and swings him around. Crucially, he lets go at the wrong moment and smashes the man head first into the wall of the hallway.

As a side-note, the servant’s neck was broken in the attempt.
“That’s it, I’m going in there and dragging him out by the hair.” – Ladyhawk.
“NOT THE BEARD!” – Dev, channelling Gimli.
“Uh, how will you do that? The door’s still closed and locked.” – Wings.
“You think that’s going to stop me? Fireball!” – Ladyhawk.

And to think that they were just going to send one person in to spy on the place. Now they’ve destroyed his front door, killed his servant and are contemplating setting fire to his house. Good one. Send him a message he will never forget.

“Never have we lived up to our name more.” – Ladyhawk, in a wondering sort of tone.
But she does go inside, to the wonderment of the three surviving servants who are not causing any alarm yet because of the sheer shock of having a dwarf and a Danann mage just suddenly burst through the front door.

Breanna heads around the back and attempts to pick the lock of the door she finds. In her attempt, she unfortunately snaps the tip of her dagger.

“She should just make a hole in the door. It seems to be the new fashion.” – Ladyhawk, to much laughter.
“Yeah, except I’m so weak and frail, I might die.” – LD.
“She’s so weak and frail, she almost broke her wrist trying to pick the lock.”

Meanwhile, back in the hallway,

“What just happened?” – First servant, starting to snap out of the daze.
“Is his neck okay?” – Second servant.
“I’ve never seen a man with his head growing out of his own arse before.” – Idea regarding the third servant’s line.

I’ll use this point to describe the floor-plan.

After busting through the door, the party find themselves standing in a long, dark hallway with three doors to the left and two to the right. On the walls there are lines of portraits which quick investigation will reveal are portraits of the Shylocke family line. In addition there is a tall flight of stairs at the end of the hall which leads to the living quarters on the second story.

Resigning himself to the situation, Harold walks up to the front door, drawing his sabre and sighs as he realises he’s going to have to crawl.

“I duck in-“ – Dev.
“You’re going to have to crawl.” – Said with a smile.
“Fine, I crawl in-“ – Dev.
“Oh, good dog.” – Wings, the punch line for the joke we’d been setting up for at least ten minutes.
Harold walks up to Tremor and smashes the basket hilt of his sabre into the back of the Dwergar’s head. Tremor stumbles forward, his rage abating in the face of the Invarrian punching him in the head.

Still mad, but this time at a different target, Tremor bull-rushes the taller Invarrian, trying to grab him, but Harold manages to hold his ground. Wrestling together, neither notice what Maebh is doing.

Before they realise it, they both feel a hard, sharp whack from her spear-haft, one cracking across Harold’s shoulders and the other smashing over Tremor’s head. They stumble apart from each other, Tremor leaning against the wall and nursing his head, which now hurts a LOT.

Back outside, grabbing a rock off the ground, Breanna smashes a back window on her second attempt and climbs inside, finding herself in what she takes for the guest quarters, a large, three part room consisting of a study with a few books worth of reading material, a bedroom and a privy. The guest quarters look like they have not been used for a very long time, if at all.

Breanna looks around and finds several books in the shelves which possess innocuous titles. Certainly nothing suspicious in terms of daemonic cults. So she walks out into the hallway behind the servants, sees the other members of her party, and walks up the staircase at the end of the hallway.

Going up the stairs, Breanna finds herself facing a door. It is a considerable door, heavy and made of hardwood, featuring extensive carvings. It is likely very expensive.
“I want to break it! Dwarven battering ram!” – Wings, to laughter.
Breanna opens the door and deduces quickly that she has come across Shylocke’s personal quarters. A large marble fireplace sits against the west wall, the mantelpiece covered in small mementoes of past experiences, a thick pipe, several small portraits, a decanter of alcohol and a golden time-keeper. Along the other walls is an abundance of bookshelves, proving that he is an extensive reader, though many look as if they have not been removed from their housing in a long time.

Back out in the hallway….
“Would you mind stepping outside for just a few moments please?” – Maebh to the servants, trying to clear the place of innocent bystanders while the other two are not trying to kill each other.
“Uh…. Yeah alright.” – Servants, before walking past the party carefully. After all tonight has gone from bizarre to freaking dangerous, and it can only get worse when the pissed off mage starts throwing fireballs around.
“Good.” – Maebh, once the servants have left. “Let’s go.”
And together, the three of them troop up the stairs to join Breanna.

“Don’t break anything more in here, alright?” – Breanna, to the others.
I thought this was really good of her to think of and I loved that she actually tried to impose a little authority on the group. On the other hand, it’s a bit late. Anyone coming after them could probably get a positive I.D from the dwarf-shaped hole in the door.

Having walked into the room, another room can be seen through an access in the wall. A bed takes pride of place there, dark velvet and silk sheets, but aside from the opulent bed, the room is bare, save for the wooden drawers by the side of the bed.

“Have a look in the bookshelves.” – Maebh, before heading over to one herself.
“Particularly, the ones he’s read recently. The ones without dust on them. Let’s get an idea of what he’s been up to.” – Tremor, nursing his head. He’s going to have at least one lump there tomorrow.

In all, they don’t find anything suspicious, thought they do find he has a strange fixation on crime mysteries.
“Oh, I wonder why!?” – LD, seeing this as suspicious.
“Because that’s what we should be doing, and we haven’t been.” – Sins, with a laugh, seeing right through my subtle hint.

Breanna goes into the sleeping area and opens the drawers next to the bed. All she sees is a small stack of blank parchment. But with a bit of scrabbling, she quickly discovers a false bottom in one of the drawers, uncovering two letters.



Morgaris,

On behalf of my lady wife, I implore you to move more swiftly in your progress.

R,



Guildmaster Shylocke,

I know not your stance on these matters, but I have some business of importance to bring to your attention. Would you meet with me for repast at the Harvest Wolf on the morrow?

With thanks,
Baronet Edmond Carhold,
The party is aware that Carhold is the Naillish ambassador in Summer Hill.

Breanna takes the letters and reads them where she stands, while Tremor and Maebh continue searching through the bookshelves. Harold looks out the second story window and quickly spies out Kel’Serrar on the next door’s roof. He opens the window and calls over to the Danann.

“Shoot the servants. I’ll explain later.” – Harold, talking only just loud enough the be heard.
Kel’Serrar facepalms by way of response.
“The feeling’s mutual!” – Harold.
Nocking an arrow to his string, Kel’Serrar smashes it through the head of his first target, striking with such speed and precision that the ranger is able to send another shaft on its way before the other two notice. The second servant drops with an arrow through his head and the third finally realises what’s happening and bolts down the road, Kel’Serrar’s third arrow sailing wide. Correcting his aim, his fourth shot takes the man in the top of the leg and pitches him to the ground. He starts to stagger away and looks to be making some ground when Kel’Serrar plants one last arrow through the man’s shoulder and into his chest, killing him.

That was some skilled shooting at some harmless guys. Maebh should be welcoming both Harold and Kel’Serrar into the deep end of the alignment pool around now.

Tremor checks the fireplace for any hidden spaces and notices while fiddling around that both the pipe and alcohol decanter are both attached to one of the marble bricks which makes up the mantelpiece. Using the horn pipe, he lifts the block and finds that inside the block is a recess, within which is a small black book.

“What did the letters say?” – Harold, to Breanna.
She reads the first one to the party.
“Hmm, our employer’s name is Rangard….” – Maebh, thinking suspiciously.

Breanna reads the second letter to the party.
“The meeting they’re talking about is probably the one we broke up.” – Tremor, pondering while flipping through his own find. “Oh wow, listen to this.”



He was brought before the Queen of Eagles by the Grand Master, who gave Him introduction to the knowledge of the Veil, may He be ever grateful. Her Wisdom gave unto Him great amounts of lustre. He must succeed in overthrowing that cursed upstart. The Hill of Summer needs one who is strong. He is that one.
__________________________________
He met the Grand Master at noon this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The time is come.
__________________________________
The Lord of the Gate sits high in his room, plotting to keep his charges awake in the cold. He must be removed, though He has not the resources.
__________________________________
He met the Grand Master upon the twilight of this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The Seabear and the Wolfwhaile have been deprived of spark and the Wolfwhaile’s handler has been taken. The Woodwolf knows not where. The experiment has not succeeded and the Lord of Winter remains unconquered.
__________________________________
He was to meet the Grand Master in the afternoon this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The Grand Master, in his wisdom, was late to the cup, and He was uncovered by a mite. He fled the scene with the Others in His wake and did sit and wander in the most noble of fashions.
__________________________________
He did report the mite to the Lady, as the Grand Master was not to be seen. Her Ladyship has dispatched her Falcon to see the job done, a Falcon for the Lady of the Queen of Eagles.
__________________________________

And then Dev, Wings and LD spent a VERY long time trying to figure out if there was a hidden message. Anything at all. I think perhaps they started out with just the capitals, but then it just devolved. Between them they put paid to four whole A4 pages, covering them all with notes.

“You know Queen of Eagles, QE, Queen of Elspeth.” – Maebh.
“Isn’t her name Esmerelda?” – Tremor.
“And the symbol of Elspeth is an eagle.” – Breanna.
“I hate riddles.” – Harold.

The Elspeth’s sigil is a gold eagle on a dark grey field while Naille’s is a black and red robin on a dark green field. As the others know by now, these are the two birds.”

Maebh is not having any more luck looking for evidence in the bookshelves, unable to find any false books, nor any false backs in the cabinets.

“We should leave this room, go downstairs and check out the other rooms. I’m thinking there could be another book down there which explains this one.” – Breanna.
“One second.” – Harold.
While the others walk out of the master bedroom, Harold stays behind and checks the bed. Seeing that there is no space beneath the bed itself, he lifts the mattress and flings it up against a wall, ripping back the sheets and pillows. He has no luck finding anything, so he heads back out into the main room and drinks the alcohol in the decanter on the mantelpiece, finds it is a nice, strong whiskey, and then uses Shylocke’s privy.

Maebh heads into the second door on the right from the staircase and finds herself in a long dining room with what seems to be considerably higher ceilings than the rest of the dwelling. The dining room is dominated by the long, richly varnished wooden table in the centre. Many chairs line the table, indicating that the owner is used to accommodating a large number of guests. There is a small fireplace against the east wall and doors to both the north and south, leading to the library and the kitchens respectively. Seeing that it is unlikely for there to be any clues in here, she heads through the northern door and into the library.

The eyes are drawn firstly to the large window built into the front or northern wall of the house, which during the day, lets in a goodly amount of light. The library is a large room with several expensive and comfortable chairs strewn about and a fireplace in the corner. The room appears to have been constructed with the express purpose of accommodating several guests at a time. Bookshelves line the walls and there is a not inconsiderable number of books either within them or scattered around the room in various states of being read.

Maebh once again finds herself searching through recently read books, trying to find something, anything suspicious. Unfortunately she finds very little in that regard, though there are plenty of interesting titles such as The Illustrated Stories of the Man Hunter, The Biography of Brodor Mhorshield and The Complete Handbook of Etiquette. As can be seen, he has such erratic reading tastes that nothing really stands out as bizarre. He appears nothing more than a bored man with lots of money.
At some point here they try to make me write out a large religious tract and its eighteen subsidiary texts, detailing the Holy Trinity of Gods in the Midlander Triad belief system. I told them to get stuffed and that there’s no way I would hide clues in a book I will never write. Ever.

Breanna meanwhile tries the other last door on the other side of the hallway and finds herself in the servants’ quarters, a long hallway with small cots set up in rows along the walls. The entirety of the servant body lives here when not on duty. Shylocke’s fortunes have begun to wane in recent times, and one of the first spending cuts he had to make was that of the servants. As it is now, the servant body is considerably smaller than it once was, with several of the beds no longer in use. I wrote this before Kel’Serrar and Tremor butchered the last servants.


The Leathe girl runs through the servants’ quarters, ransacking the place and finding nothing more than a few meagre possessions amongst all the belongings. This doesn’t stop her from flipping the cots over in her haste to find something useful.

While I ran through what Maebh and Breanna found respectively and Wings sat there, trying to find hidden messages, Sins and Dev had a quick conversation regarding Dev’s upcoming campaign.
“But honestly, if this is what’s going to happen, I might just scrap the whole thing.” – Dev.
“This is what you wanted!” – Sins and myself, practically simultaneously.
“No…. No it’s not.” – Dev, so sad it was hilarious.
“But this is us being the GOOD guys. Imagine what we’ll be like when we’re not!” – Sins.
“I don’t think we are the good guys anymore.” – Dev.
I don’t think they are either.
“I think we are. After all, I haven’t burnt down his house yet.” – Sins, unrepentantly cheerful.
“The ‘yet’ worries me, so much.”

Breanna has look at the fireplace in the room, noting that there are two cast iron torches set into the wall, one on either side of the mantelpiece. This strikes her as passing odd.
“Why would someone put two torches on either side of a fire?” – Breanna, to herself.
She tries to manipulate them in various fashions and eventually finds that she can press the one on the left down and she does so, causing the fireplace to sink slowly and quietly into a recessed pit beneath, revealing a small room beyond.

Hearing the slight noise, the others cluster around Breanna and together they walk inside, minus Kel’Serrar who is still outside. It is dark in here, which is probably why there are more cast-iron torches bracketed to the walls, which Maebh lights with the flame in her hand. Like the previous room, this room too, has many bookshelves, however the eye is drawn first to the large, unornamented round wooden table in the centre of the room which is surrounded by ten chairs. Compared to the opulence of most of the rest of the house, this area is quite sparse. Apart from the table, chairs, books and a small writing desk over in the far corner, the room is practically empty.

Maebh goes to the bookshelves and immediately finds several books on Black Magical theory and daemonic binding.
“We’ve got him now.” – Maebh.
“Uh, maybe give them to Breanna, she does that sort of thing.” – Tremor, breaking the unspoken rule, which is turn a blind eye to Breanna’s shenanigans.
However when Maebh tries to open the books to read them, she finds she cannot. The cover simply will not open, no matter how much she pries.
“The book is resisting! Maybe we should interrogate it?” – Sins.

Tremor walks to the desk and searches it, turning up a quill, an inkwell and some sheets of blank parchment.
"Maybe it wave near the fire Tremor.” – Harold, thinking it might be invisible ink.
Tremor does so, careful not to accidentally set the page on fire, but no writing becomes apparent. It was worth a try.

Tremor leaves the desk and goes to a bookshelf, joining Maebh in her attempts to pry another book open. He is unable to, so just turns it over to look at the cover. It is a large book, bound in dark red leather and locked with a bronze clasp which refuses to be opened. The lettering, engraved into the leather on the front of the book reads, The Daemons of the South: An Account of a Grateful One in Starfall.
Starfall is a southern city, named for being built in the crater caused by a meteorite. I’d already named it before I found out that there was a place of the same name in Game of Thrones. Luckily for me, it’s only a background note, rather than a central part to the setting.

Breanna also grabs a black leather book and tries to open it, but she doesn’t have any more success than the others. On the other hand, her proximity to this sort of thing leads her to realise that these books are what they seem. They are really books about daemonic binding and there is a way to open them.

So she decides to summon a daemon to try and open it. The Leathe holds the book in both hands and calls a weak daemon into her before trying to siphon its power into the book. She lays the book on the table and the ephemeral creature sinks into it, causing it to shake violently on the wood. Suddenly there is a bright flash of light which illuminates the room, before fading away, leaving the book still and slightly smoking on the table. Breanna picks it up again, but has no more success in opening it than she did before.

“Do it again, but pick a bigger daemon!” – Tremor, still ignoring the unspoken rule.
“No! I think it’s obvious we’re playing with stuff too far above us here.” – Harold. He’s not wrong at that.
“Well, how about we cut the spine? If we cut it open at the arse-end, all the rest should just spill open right?” – Tremor.
“You want to cut open a daemonically possessed book? – Maebh, questioning.
“Well when you put it like that… Yes, that is what I am suggesting.” – Tremor thinking it through. “Nah, maybe not such a good idea anyway.”

Outside now, Kel’Serrar spies a handful of people making their way down the road and into the district. That would be all the rich people who went out to have dinner in the town itself. He doesn’t want to be discovered, so the Danann ranger drops down from the roof, takes his arrows and flees the scene, heading back to the cart.

Inside, the others realise that they really do need to hurry so they all leave the room. Before he follows the others, Tremor takes the book he picked up earlier and tries to leave. As he crosses the threshold, a wall of bright blue energy flares up in front of him. The Dwergar drops the book immediately and the wall dissipates. He runs through, joining with the others and together they take a circuitous route back to the cart where they find Kel’Serrar waiting for them.

They have completely and utterly ransacked Shylocke’s house. His library was thoroughly searched, with books strewn over the room by the end of it. His secret room was left with the hidden door open, and several books off the shelves. The servant quarters were pretty destroyed, what with Breanna’s searching knocking over cots and strewing possessions across the room. His hallway now has bloodstains and a dead man half embedded in the wall and upstairs, well, not only have the books been thrown around the place, his bed has been torn apart and to add insult to injury, Harold left a parting gift in the privy.
“At least there’s no DNA testing.” – Harold.

“So he is part of the cult?” – Tremor.
“Yeah, definitely looks that way.” – Harold.
“Could the Seabear in this be the Selkye we killed? Also the Wolfwhaile and the Wolfwhaile’s handler…. We did take that man alive, so the handler could be the one who was taken.” – Kel’Serrar, looking over the notebook for the first time.
“Yeah…” – Harold, thinking it over.
“It’s a pity we don’t know when these were written.” – Kel’Serrar, musing over the book.
“No, couldn’t find anything that might give us a date.” – Breanna, preoccupied from where she sits on the cart, scratching out all the different ways there might be hidden code in the text on some pilfered parchment.
“The Lord of Winter remains unconquered… Well they did summon something… The Lord of Winter?” – Kel’Serrar, still reading through.
Silence as the whole group tries to puzzle it out.
“Straws? Clutching? Give me some answers people.” – Kel’Serrar.
“I don’t know.” – Harold, professing ignorance, but still reading through it over the Danann’s shoulder.
“So what do we know? That they’re trying to summon a big daemon, right?” – Maebh, starting from scratch.
“Right, to destroy a town called Summer Hill!” – Tremor, gruff, yet happy.
“Lord of Winter would be a good indication that whatever it is, it isn’t an ally to Summer Hill.” – Kel’Serrar, putting it together.
More silence….
“He and Him must be the same person.” – Tremor, starting over.
“Not necessarily.” – Kel’Serrar.
“How so?” – Tremor.
“They are the same on the one page, but they could be referring to different people across pages. I doubt it, but it could be right.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Hmm, I still think it’s the same person.” – Tremor.

“I think we need to speak with our friend in red.” – Harold, musing.
“Which means we’ll need to leave town.” – Kel’Serrar, snide in an undertone.
“No, we don’t.” – Maebh.
“She knows the town far better than any of us.” – Harold.
“I don’t really care. I don’t like her.” – Maebh, stubborn.
“You don’t really like anyone though.” – Harold.
“I’m fully willing to leave town and go after her, but when some of us die, can any survivors not give away all our gear?” – Kel’Serrar. Not sure if he’s deranged enough to think that his spirit will linger on in his weapons or whether he just doesn’t like the idea of someone else handling his gold.
More silence….

“So our friend in red could be the Falcon or the Lady…” – Tremor, thinking it over.
“The Falcon could also be Chirya, though I don’t think it’s likely she’s working for the queen.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Chirya?” – Harold.
“The bitch who shot me.” – Tremor, vindictively, also indicating that perhaps he too has met Chirya in his past.
“She attacked us. I think it’s very unlikely she’s not working with the queen, if not for her.” – Harold.
“Well, I do know that we split up because of her intention to speed up the conflict in these lands. So she could well be.” – Kel’Serrar.
And then we quoted the rabbit skit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That was practically the end of the night. Then we discussed the Major Talents for the Ranger class, namely the one where the Ranger imbues his animal companion with magic, causing it to roar with great strength. Even if it’s a rabbit.

And we left it there....

The Wrap-Up.
I thought this was a good session, despite the utter destruction at the end, caused mainly because I think Wings feels a bit restricted in terms of what his character is capable of. Sadly, he has picked an Engineer, a class I hadn't finished when he joined us, restricting him a bit when it came to picking his Talents and the like. I'm really hoping that his next level up will really help him out here as I have added quite a few new Talents and the like.

Just thought I'd put the theories they came up with regarding the notebook here.

Theories on the Meanings of the Black Book
Him/He: Probably Shylocke. Maybe Rangard. Could be someone else.
Queen of Eagles: Queen Esmerelda of Elspeth.
Grand Master: Maybe Shylocke but probably Rangard. Perhaps someone who hasn’t revealed himself yet.
Knowledge of the Veil:
Her Wisdom:
The Hill of Summer: Summer Hill.
The Lord of the Gate: Maybe Rangard.
The Seabear:
The Wolfwhaile:
Deprived of spark: Either lost the Focus Stone, or dead.
The Wolfwhaile’s handler:
The Woodwolf:
The experiment: Summoning the daemon.
The Lord of Winter: The summoned daemon.
A mite: Breanna Blackrose.
The Others:
The Lady: Perhaps Dhara.
Her Falcon: Either Dhara or Chirya.

They really don't trust Rangard, nor do they believe that there is much chance that Shylocke is being framed. Which doesn't completely add up if Rangard is working with Shylocke... The plot thickens...

Let's see if they get any answers on Friday.

See you then and thanks for reading.
Cheers,

Amidus Drexel
2013-05-07, 08:25 PM
And the plot thickens as the PCs decide to participate in the age-old adventuring tradition: B&E. :smallamused:

At least they didn't burn his house down.

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-08, 06:24 PM
Thank God for that. They certainly had me worried towards the end, what with Kel'Serrar and his itchy "draw-fingers." Well that and Maebh's first suggestion for getting inside, which was along the lines of, "No wooden door can withstand copious amounts of fire."

What do they say? The answer to life's problems is the immediate application of fire? Kill it with fire? If that doesn't work, kill it with more fire?

So all in all, Shylocke probably came out of that smelling like roses. Except his privy, because Harold's unthinkingly cruel like that. :smallbiggrin:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-11, 02:13 AM
Well we played it out last night, and despite Sins getting here late, we still managed a roughly three hour game.

Let's see, what happened?

Discussion was had, a fire was fought, a nice old couple were discovered, Harold was badly hurt but some decidedly unfriendly fire and then bought himself new clothes.

For more details, stay tuned. :smallwink:

Cheers,

ReaderAt2046
2013-05-11, 05:47 AM
Well we played it out last night, and despite Sins getting here late, we still managed a roughly three hour game.

Let's see, what happened?

Discussion was had, a fire was fought, a nice old couple were discovered, Harold was badly hurt but some decidedly unfriendly fire and then bought himself new clothes.

For more details, stay tuned. :smallwink:

Cheers,

Did Melisiandere show up again?

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-11, 08:00 AM
No, Dhara made no return appearance last night, though I can say that she was mentioned in conversation several times. :smalltongue:

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-22, 05:20 AM
Over halfway through the writeup for the last session. We're just about to get to the infamous fireball attack. :smalltongue:

Stay tuned,

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-27, 08:57 PM
Session 2.4: The Infamous Fireball

Welcome to the seventh-

"The Game." - Sins.
"I hate you!" - Ladyhawk, with a laugh.
"We all do." - Wings.

Aargh! Welcome to the seventh session of Three Coins.

They've all well and truly trashed Shylocke’s manse and are now resting in the courtyard behind the White Stallion Inn with the cart, discussing what is happening with regards to the cult and what they plan to do about it. It is late at night, and most of the town is winding up after a long day. On the way back, Tremor stopped off at a tavern and availed himself of a drink.

The conversation began well, but soon devolved into tracking back over onto questions they had already moved on from. Sadly, there was very little constructive effort put in here as the topic turned to the impossibility of buying trust.

A small plan is devised regarding Harold's nobility giving him a good chance with talking to Carhold, a noble in his own right.

Small hitch here, in that Harold's "knighthood" is based around pillaging the Northlands. So would Midlanders necessarily respect or even acknowledge an Invarrian title? The consensus is that it's better than nothing.

At this point they finally get around to listening to what Maebh had come up with, though they did interrupt her at every turn. While most of it was consolidating what they already “knew,” mainly regarding Elspeth’s Queen being referred to as the Queen of Eagles, she did come up with an important point, namely that the notebook seems to suggest that she wishes to put one of her people in a position of power in Summer Hill.

Tremor suggests that killing the current powerbrokers would be a good move, though admittedly, all of them are suspected Elspeth agents.

But after all, as Ladyhawk said and Dev reiterated, putting someone in power who is native to the area is one of the best ways to solve civil unrest. It worked for many real world ancient empires, why not for Elspeth?

Regarding the letters, the only conclusion Tremor came to was that they are painful to decipher, but Kel’Serrar points out that they don’t know who ‘R’ is and while they have suspicions (Rangard), due to the nature of their employment, pointing out their suspicions to him would be a sure way to miss out on payment, plus he could pay off half the town to kill them.

On the other hand, Carhold is definitely a possibility to talk to.

Kel’Serrar really pushes for this meeting to occur, preferably in the open, or at least in a place where he and/or Maebh can provide overwatch.

“If you need to move, let me know in advance. Organise a signal, even if it is really stupid. I care not, so long as it gives me enough time to get a shot off.” – Kel’Serrar, to Harold, discussing the upcoming meeting.

“We need a watch word.” – Dev.
“The watchword is ‘help.’” – Sins.
“Funkytown.” – Wings.
“No. Um, what should the watchword be?” – Dev, pondering.
“Funkytown?” – Wings, being ignored.
“Runs past screaming…” – Sins, describing the inevitable ending to this conversation.
“No, one or two words that can be worked into conversation.” – Dev.
“Apple?” – LD.
“You don’t want to say it accidentally.” – Sins.
“Well, how about, ‘This is a funky town?’” – Wings.
“Unfortunately I have, ‘The sparrows fly south for the winter,’ stuck in my head. Curse you Skullduggery!” – Sins.
“Heh, I really need to read them at some stage.” – Dev, getting offtrack. “Now, two words, that can be worked into conversation.”
“Moustaches.” – LD, with finality.
“That’s one word.” – Dev.
“Big moustaches.” – Wings with a smirk.
“Something LD wouldn’t normally say.” – Sins, pointing out the floor in using ‘moustaches.’
“How about three words? ‘Danann eat me.’” – Sins.
“She says that a lot too.”
“Yeah, but she won’t say, ‘Please, Danann eat me.’” – Sins.
“You guys might forget it’s the watchword though!” – LD.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” – Sins.
“So we need three or two words that she can say to us so we can get out of there.” – Dev.
“I like plough horses.” – Ladyhawk, submitting her own suggestion.
“I HATE PLOGH HORSES!” – LD, as Breanna’s parents sadly met their end at the hooves of some plough horses, leading to the Leathe’s fixation/fear.
“That’s brilliant. Plough and horse.” – Dev.
“No it is not! It’s against everything that I stand for!” – LD.
“See? Brilliant. There’s no way you’d accidentally say it.” – Wings, happily.
“But I won’t say it even if it’s necessary, so you guys won’t even know anyway.” – LD.

After literally seven minutes of this crap they finally come up with, “Pay attention to our illustrious leader, he has something to tell you.” As you can see, it is no longer a watchword but a watchparagraph.

They go back to talking about speaking to Carhold, mainly using Harold’s nobility to gain entrance, leading to the best pun combo of the night.
“We moustache him a question.” – Sins.
“But I’ll shave it for later.” – Dev.
It was god-awful, but sadly amusing at the same time.

The overall gist of Harold’s plan is to establish some sort of trading agreement between Naille and Varr. He hit a bit of a snag with Naille being an inland kingdom without any access to the sea, but as you will see later, he works around this rather nicely.

Theories on the Meanings of the Black Book
Him/He: Probably Shylocke. Maybe Rangard. Could be someone else.
Queen of Eagles: Queen Esmerelda of Elspeth.
Grand Master: Maybe Shylocke but probably Rangard. Perhaps someone who hasn’t revealed himself yet.They’re pretty sure that he’s Shylocke.
Knowledge of the Veil:
Her Wisdom:
The Hill of Summer: Summer Hill.
The Lord of the Gate: Maybe Rangard. Harold brings up a good point, mainly that the Captain of the Watch would be considered a “Lord of the Gate.”
The Seabear:
The Wolfwhaile:
Deprived of spark: Either lost the Focus Stone, or dead.
The Wolfwhaile’s handler:
The Woodwolf:
The experiment: Summoning the daemon.
The Lord of Winter: The summoned daemon.
A mite: Breanna Blackrose.
The Others:
The Lady: Perhaps Dhara.
Her Falcon: Either Dhara or Chirya.

The decide to break for the night, Kel’Serrar climbing his favoured tree, Breanna pitching one of the, as yet unused tents in the courtyard next to the cart and Harold, Maebh and Tremor head off to rent rooms in some taverns.

Perception Checks passed by Breanna and Maebh.

While pitching her tent, Breanna picks up the distinct smell of smoke. In a predominantly wooden town. As she looks around, startled, she catches Maebh’s eye. She has smelt it too. The two of them tell the others and they move off as quickly as possible towards the red glow in the sky in the direction of the merchant district. As they do, Tremor shouts out in his gruff baritone, warning the township.

“FIRE! FIRE IN THE MERCHANT DISTRICT!” – Tremor, bellowing.

They arrive in the merchant district, pushing their way to the front of the crowd which as gathered to watch as….

Rangard’s house burns down.

There is a handful of people working hard to put the fire out, but Rangard’s manse is beyond saving. The neighbouring dwellings are in little danger any more, teams of servants working hard to contain the blaze, though there are signs that the fire had spread to the other houses before the effort had been organised.

They quickly realise that Maebh’s trickle of water she can create will not be enough to fill the buckets any quicker than getting the water out of the wells.

Harold runs over to one of the firefighters.
“Is there anyone left inside!?” – Harold, over the blaze.
“Not that we know of!” – Servant, beating at the fire with a blanket.
“Can I help!?” – Harold.
The servant tosses the Invarrian his blanket, which is flaming on one corner, and runs off to the stockpile to grab another.
Harold too runs over to the stockpile, dipping the end of the blanket in a bucket to put out the flames before grabbing the bucket itself and throwing the water on the fire, tossing the empty bucket behind him to get it refilled before charging off to fight the blaze.

Tremor too, heads to the stockpile and joins the fight.

I have both Harold and Tremor take Toughness Checks to see how they cope with smoke inhalation. Minor Strength and Toughness negatives if they fail, but these do stack meaning that they can die from it if either their Strength or Toughness hits -10.

Meanwhile, Breanna and Maebh decide that discretion is the better part of valour with regards to the fire and Kel’Serrar is busy fighting back hatred and fear of the fire and ashes.

Another check for Tremor and Harold as they continue to fight the fire. Tremor starts to have some difficulty, finding that the smoke is beginning to tear up his throat. Harold finds himself shying back from the heat and flames, unable to really get anywhere.

It takes some time, but eventually the fire is gotten under control, but by then the fire has utterly gutted the house. The ground is red hot, but at least there are no more open flames after almost an hour of heavy fighting.

A fair bit of discussion as the party head back to a dark alleyway to discuss the possibilities.
Why Rangard’s house burnt down.
- Because the cult found out he was working against them.
- Because he was working for the cult, cut and run and is now covering his tracks.
- Because he was working for the cult, cut and run and now this is revenge.
- There are two cults and this is a mob-war.

“I think Maebh’s theory might be correct. Two cults in one town. We pissed off one and they got back at us by killing off our employer.” – Tremor, despairingly.
“They didn’t necessarily kill him to our knowledge.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Well as they say in my land, payback…. Is a bitch.” – Tremor.
“And they still don’t know who we are.” – Harold, said with far too much confidence.
“I have a feeling he’s still alive. I just don’t think he’d die.” – Kel’Serrar. Possibly meta-gaming, but who cares?
“I’d like to check out what’s left of the place when it’s all cooled down because there might be hidden passageways under the house which he may have used to escape.” – Maebh, thinking of all the options. That and she never trusted Rangard, so scarpering is something she can believe of him quite readily.
“Or he could have not been in the house.” – Harold, a bit more trusting.

Working off Harold’s suggestion that they are still unidentified, they move on to why Rangard would be attacked.
“He must have been attacked for a reason.” – Maebh.
“So what about Shylocke? He attacks Rangard to stop him from being a big influence in the town.” – Harold, thinking through culprits.
“Or was it us and we just don’t realise it?” – Ladyhawk. “Because with everything else we’ve accomplished, I would not be surprised if we were to just accidentally burn down our employer’s house. Probably kill his dog or something while we were running away.”
“Thinking about it, our companion in red whom we have not seen for ages doesn’t like Rangard.” – Kel’Serrar. “And, they might not know who we are, but if someone’s acting against them and well, Rangard’s already been cursed once so he’s a known opponent. Another alternative is that they’re covering up evidence.
“They might be covering up evidence, he might be a known opponent, he might even have evidence to hold against them and he’s already been cursed once-” – Harold, warming to his theme.
“We’ve not been exactly subtle all these times, meeting him, working with him, meeting him in public places, dragging people to his house.” – Kel’Serrar, interrupting and making a very good point.
“He’s not been completely subtle either.” – Maebh.
“He has.” – Kel’Serrar.
“No, he hasn’t. Not really.” – Harold.
“He’s been relatively subtle, trying to meet us in dark and secluded places. There haven’t usually been many people around when he’s met us rather than us meeting him. He’s been more subtle than we have.” – Kel’Serrar.

Seeing as it is about midnight, Harold, Tremor and Breanna head back to their sleeping arrangements while Maebh and Kel’Serrar climb up onto the roof of the building across the road from Rangard’s manse, hoping to stay out of sight while they watch anyone who takes undue interest in the destruction of the manse after the crowd disperses. Kel’Serrar scrambles up easily, making a little bit of noise and alerting the people inside. An elderly Midlander couple lean out the window and see the two Danann trying to scale their dwelling. They exchange looks and then walk away from the window, probably confused.
“Damn PC’s.” – Dev.
Maebh on the other hand cannot get proper purchase and takes another attempt to get up. She does so, but any chance of being stealthy about it is pretty blown. At least once she gets up there she won’t have to move and anyone coming along won’t know she’s there. Anyone currently in the vicinity on the other hand is aware of her presence.

Tremor on the other hand goes off to the tavern and decides to scratch some designs onto the table. He’s moved on from his shoulder pet and is now considering a mount. Something tough, sturdy, something a Dwergar can ride. Oh, and mechanical.
“On a steel horse I ride,
I’m wanted,
For running through doors.”

The Invention Skill for the Engineer is ridiculously open-ended and I hope that any Norbayne GM brave enough to take on an Engineer in the party realises that he can’t let the Engineer get carried away. The Engineer first puts forward an idea. This can be literally anything. The GM must then come up with the rules for said item and the difficulty of creating it. There are three basic categories, Easy, Average and Difficult. An Easy Invention doesn’t impose any negatives to the Design Check, an Average one imposes -20 and a Difficult one a -40. As the GM you are fully within your rights to say no to a character’s idea on whatever grounds you like, though try to make sure that only the exceptionally ridiculous are vetoed. For example Wings wished for a mechanical horse. I would rate this at Difficult, and it would require extra work to be sentient. (Magic.) Then Ladyhawk informed him that he could ride a mechanical anything, leading him to suggest as giant mechanical eagle. Which could fly. This I informed him would be so difficult it would make building the horse seem like drawing a circle.

Once per level the Engineer may actually make an attempt to create one of his crazy designs once he has a working blueprint and the materials needed. But I shall not bore you with further details. Back to the story.

He draws several designs but in the end settles on a small steel falcon. He comes up with something that might be workable in the future but he doesn’t believe his calculations are quite right. What he’s designed is probably not capable of flight. Tremor goes to bed.

Kel’Serrar sits and stares at the burnt-out manse and Maebh dozes on the roof nearby as the early hours of the morning wear on. Over an hour into their vigil, Kel’Serrar hears a slight whisper coming from below. He looks over the edge of the roof and sees the elderly couple looking up at him, offering a plate of fruit and a pitcher of water.
“We know you’re going to be up all night, so here’s something to keep up your strength.” – Elderly couple.
“Much obliged.” – Kel’Serrar, stunned and yet thankful at this generosity.
“What nice people.” – Ladyhawk.
“Remind me not to burn down their house when the time comes.” – Sins, laughing.

Over the course of the next few hours, the couple inside go to bed, wishing their two rooftop vigilantes a good night and Kel’Serrar eventually awakens Maebh to take her watch. Unhappy at being woken from her rest, she hunches down on the edge of the roof, drawing her cloak about her.

The sun is just beginning to come up when she sees a man in a long grey cloak walking down the roadway.
“Kill him.” – Ladyhawk.

The dull light makes it hard to tell if he’s really there, but soon he is close enough to make out details. He has his hood up and his cloak conceals pretty much to be seen. He is not holding anything in his hands. Walking down the road, he stops just in front of Rangard’s destroyed manse.

Maebh takes up her spear and prods the sleeping ranger with the haft.
”Oh great, I’ve been stabbed.” – Sins
“No, with blunt end I’d say.” – Dev.
“… It’s Maebh.” – Sins.
“True, she probably reckons that you’d wake up faster if she stabs you.” – Dev.
“The less blood in him, the quicker he reacts.”

More to come, which can be readhere. :smallbiggrin: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15318693&postcount=67)

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-27, 09:09 PM
Welcome back. :smallwink:

Kel’Serrar recognises that the man is definitely a Midlander, relatively slightly built. Maebh suggests that he be shot in a non-lethal place but Kel’Serrar declines as that would be a ‘Bad Idea.’ TM.

Maebh in the end leaves the ranger up on the roof and stealthily climbs down, succeeding with a bit of luck and silently creeps across the road towards the man in grey. This close, she can tell the man is almost a head shorter than she is and is cloak is of expensive quality. She decides to tackle him, hoping to take him unawares.

The tackle is effective, the Danann mage slamming shoulder-first into the man, smashing him to the ground where she quickly pins him there. As she does so, she realises that the face is familiar. It is the same man who disappeared right in front of her eyes when they investigated the Harvest Wolf.
“Knock him out, knock him out, knock him out, knock him out, knock him out!” – Dev and Wings, together and frantic.

He looks to be in his mid-to-late fifties, with greying hair that is becoming quite wispy and thin. He looks quite old and just a little bit frail and Maebh is surprised that he wasn’t knocked out by her tackle. She swiftly thinks about whether or not she should try to strangle him or smashing his head against the ground. She decides on the latter. And in the process…. He disappears. Again. Before he does so, she can see the bastard’s smiling.

In the air around them, as Kel’Serrar can hear it too, they hear a voice.
“You still don’t know who I am, do you?” – Disembodied voice, who then delivers some mocking laughter.
“I’m throwing a fireball.” – Ladyhawk.
“You don’t know where he is.” – Wings.
“I don’t care, I want to throw a fireball at something.” – Ladyhawk.
Enraged, Maebh flings a ball of fire into the sky, venting her frustration at being foiled again.

More laughter.
“You really don’t know who I am.” – Disembodied voice, answering his own question.
“Where’s the voice coming from?” – Ladyhawk.
“All around you.”
“NO! There needs to be a direction so I can send a Wall of Blades that way.” – Ladyhawk.
“But I am not totally unfair. I am willing to talk.” – Disembodied voice.
“Name a location. Preferably one that does not lead to us being blasted apart.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Here works well.” – Disembodied voice.
“Tell us everything.” – Maebh, being very forceful with someone who she can’t see or seem to pin down.
She is ignored.
“I hate you. I will kill you.” – Maebh, swearing revenge.
More mocking laughter from the air around them.
“Who are you?” – Kel’Serrar.
“You may call me, The Trickster.” – The Trickster.
“Considering your latest antics, a fair response. Care to explain what this was?” – Kel’Serrar.
“You have witnessed the destruction of someone who was causing problems.” – The Trickster. The manner in which he spoke indicated he was choosing his words carefully.
“So is Rangard dead then?” – Maebh, trying again.
“You don’t know.” – The Trickster.
“Yeah? Well neither do you by the sounds of it.” – Maebh, giving up on playing respectful.
He laughs, but her verbal foray has hit home. From this they deduce he is a proud individual.
“The disappearing act is a nice touch. Care to teach it?” – Kel’Serrar, moving on.
“I do not believe it lies within the talent pool of one such as you.” – The Trickster.
“How about mine?” – Maebh, curious.
Silence.
“Ah it does…. You *****.” – Maebh. Now she’s just getting insulting.
There is a human growl of discontent before, “You’re a bitch.” – The Trickster, sullen.
“And you’re wimpy disappearing bastard.” – Maebh, warming to her theme.
He growls once more, but he turns it into a laugh. It is a forced laugh though, almost like he needs to enjoy this for it to be worth the time.
“What information do you feel like sharing with us then?” – Kel’Serrar, fishing.
“You will be seeing more of me soon enough.” – The Trickster.
“I look forward to it.” – Kel’Serrar, aiming for cocky courtesy.
“I dare you to materialise in front of us and disappear again.” – Maebh, trying to get a chance to blast him apart.
“How do you know that what you have seen was even me at all?” – The Trickster. A bit cryptic.
“But you were there! Physically present!” – Maebh, outraged.
“Ah, an illusion is only as real as you believe it is. If you thought he was real Maebh, it could well have felt that way.” – Kel’Serrar, seeing possibilities.
“You are quite perceptive. I look forward to seeing you in the future. Farewell for now.” – The Trickster.
“Which one do you look forward to seeing?” – Maebh.
“… Farewell for now.” – The Trickster.
“Bastard.” – Maebh.
“Bitch.” – The Trickster.
“I hate you.” – Maebh.
Silence.

Due to their investigative efforts, I gave them a level up, something they were all craving. I think they were all after some new toys to play with.

I’ll put up their basic choices later.

I turned off the recording for the period of time where we determined what everyone gained in their level up. Upon resuming it, I informed everyone as such.
“Recording once more.”
“And there was much rejoicing.” – Sins.
“Yay…” – Absolutely everyone, without fail, timed this to perfection.

I have an awesome group.

The sun is coming up and the Market District is beginning to come to life in the new day. Maebh, back up on the roof, sends a Whisper to Tremor, Harold and Breanna.

“We have many important things to tell you about last night. We want to explore the ashes before everyone wakes up, so get the *expletive* down here.” – Maebh’s Wind Whisper.

Tremor meanwhile, awakens in the morning after a restless night’s sleep. He realises that a flying creature would be very difficult to create and so puts his efforts into using what he’s seen of Harold and Breanna’s marcwolf pups to help him in putting his newest design onto paper. A large, mechanical marcwolf. While he’s scratching down the design, Maebh’s Whisper arrives. He listens to it, then ignores it all and continues with his design.

Breanna is sleeping in her tent when she gets Maebh’s Whisper.
“What!? Wait, what was that!? Oh, just Maebh.” – Breanna, who gets up, stretches, puts on her boots and makes her way to the Merchant District to meet up with the others. She leaves the tent next to the wagon, her marcwolf pup following, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, fairly differently from its master.

Harold is also awakened by the Whisper, causing him to get up and head downstairs to the common room of the Iron Moon and orders breakfast. The barkeep glares at the Invarrian when handing over the food. Harold on the other hand just sits down at one of the tables, his little marcwolf sitting next to him, forepaws on the table eating off the plate.

Seeing the man’s consternation, Harold drops a sulver on the bar before he leaves. The barkeep acknowledges this gesture with a nod and then goes back to polishing the glasses.

Soon enough, Harold and Breanna arrive to meet up with Maebh and Kel’Serrar. Despite the heat still present in the ashes, it is far more bearable than last night, merely uncomfortable rather than lethal, and they begin their preliminary investigation. They soon find things very difficult, what with all the ash. Sifting through it all is taking a lot of time, plus it keeps getting into their lungs and eyes.

After about an hour, Kel’Serrar still sits upon the roof in his lonely vigil. He watches over the others as they look around in the ashes, making sure that they have plenty of time to appear inconspicuous if anyone approaches. From inside the house he sits upon, he can hear movement. Below him, a head pokes out the window, looks up, smiles kindly and then disappears back inside. The delicious scent of bacon being fried wafts up from out the window and it isn’t long before the elderly couple reappear, offering bacon and water to the young Danann on their roof.
“How did it go?” – The old man, winking conspiratorially.
“Aww, what lovely people.” – Ladyhawk.
“Rich old people are the nicest people in the world.” – LD, pronouncing this with all the force of a little goddess.
“Rather well.” – Kel’Serrar, mysteriously.
“Ah yes, I see.” – Old man, smiling appreciatively and tapping the side of his nose.
The couple goes back inside.

Kel’Serrar jumps down to go check out the ashes himself while Breanna climbs up and has a peach thrown to her by the old woman inside, who realises that the person climbing her house is different from the person who climbed their house earlier. Sadly, Breanna fails to catch the fruit, but the old woman manages to recover the failed attempt herself.
“I’m a better catch than you!” – The old woman, in a way that can only illicit an “Awww, cute,” in response.
She hands the fruit up to the Leathe.
“Thank you, you’re such a nice old lady.” – Breanna.
“And skilled.” – The old woman.
“Such a nice, skilled old lady.” – Breanna. “TEACH ME!”

To describe the remains of Rangard’s home would require me knowing many synonyms for ash to prevent the description from being repetitive. It is really stuffed. I would have drawn up a floor-plan but the whole thing is now just a mountain of ash with a few support struts.

Maebh considers the benefits of blasting the ash away with a powerful gust of wind, asking the rest of the party whether or not it’s worth it. They say yes and back away as soon as she starts her casting process. It takes her a long time to build up the power necessary but when she does, she wipes the foundations of the house clean, blasting away the ash. Unfortunately, she also knocks down some of the support struts, which had been weakened in the fire.

Maebh uses her new spell, Gust of Wind. She used a bit more power than she intended, miscasting but passing the resulting Toughness Check.
“Ah, she’s just winded for a bit.[/i] – Sins. He was full of them.
“I’m going to throw you out the window in a minute.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.

The howling wind alerts several other people in the vicinity who look out of the houses lining the street. They see the Danann mage walk forward into the destruction and shrink back inside their own houses. Obviously, she’s a little out of the league of the average merchant.

“Wow, that was great.” – Harold, sarcastic before heading into the foundations to search once more. Maebh snaps and throws a Flare at the Invarrian’s back.
“Tempers will flare.” – Sins. I think it was ignored at the time, but as I said, he was on fire. Well, someone was anyway.

This is the first time I’ve had to properly deal with inter-party conflict. Ladyhawk explained that she only wanted to hurt the Invarrian, not to kill him. But of course she is using magic fire to teach her lesson. To discourage her from doing this again, I didn’t allow her to just cause 1 point, and made her roll for Damage. Magic should be respected and not used a toy. On the other hand, this did put Harold in a fair bit of danger, so I ended up fudging by ignoring all of Maebh’s bonus Damage to Fire Spells. I hope that the end result was fair to both parties, but I sincerely hope that this doesn’t happen again.

Harold lands on his face, his back on fire, Before he can get up, Maebh puts the fire out with an aimed torrent of magical water over his back.

Fury of the River causes another point of Damage. But at least the fire’s put out.

The water courses through the foundations of the house, turning the whole place into a thick ashen slurry.

Kel’Serrar runs over to the wounded Invarrian and quickly patches him up as quickly as he can, padding the wound with bandages and applying a salve he picked up at some stage for the burning. Meanwhile of course, Harold is face down in what is now mud, his nice new clothes now ripped, burnt and muddied. He gets up, and in the face of Maebh’s hostility, walks away.
“That’s it, screw you all. You can all do this yourselves.” – Harold.
The Invarrian walks off to a tavern and rents a room to go clean up.

After his departure, Kel’Serrar and Maebh continue to search the area, but soon realise that if there was any small pieces of evidence the fire-wind-water combo would have destroyed it.
Some jokes about how Maebh has caused a multitude of asthma attacks and flooded half the town.

Meanwhile, over in the Iron Moon Inn, it takes Tremor four hours, and to quote Dev, many anachronisms later, but in the end he has a design so inspired that the technology to make it does not exist. Tremor will need to find a smith who can look at his design and make the components exactly right. Or he could do it himself, but the margin for error is extremely small.

The Invention Check roll could scarcely have been better with a 01, but what Wings wants to make is ridiculously ahead of its time, ie. A clockwork, draft-horse-sized bear-wolf. Naturally once it’s made, he will still have to infuse it with sentience to get it working properly, but even a big mechanical statue of a draft-horse-sized bear-wolf would be impressive in terms of building it.

After creating this masterpiece of a drawing, Tremor heads downstairs, buys a drink and heads outside with the hard liquor in his water skin. He soon shows up, rolling slightly as he walks. He casts his eye over the muddy scene, choosing to ignore the dirty figures of the two Danann. From his position he sees that the fire appears very controlled and as far as he can tell, either the response was very prompt or the blaze was set in a very controlled manner. Heading inside, Tremor slips in the mud, but upon getting up finds that there really isn’t much to look at.

Tremor comes to the conclusion that there’s likely no evidence left to be found.

Breanna meanwhile, sitting on the roof has had about five peaches thrown up to her. Being on lookout duty has turned out to be really good fun.
“I love these old people! Can I be adopted by them?” – LD.

Finding the White Stallion Inn, Harold cleans himself up before heading out to avail himself of another set of nice clothes including a comfortable royal blue shirt and a long leather jacket, fur lined around the collar and a good quality, thick leather belt. He’s off to go see the Naillish ambassador, Baronet Edmond Carhold. He soon realises that he isn’t sure about where to find the man, so he engages the merchant in conversation, eventually getting to his main point, hoping to hide his question amongst innocent conversation.
“Where would I find the Naillish ambassador?” – Harold, after chatting with the man for almost an hour.
“Oh, he’s a regular customer of mine, as you now know. He is quartered in the mayor’s residence, the big hall up on the Hill.” – Robett, the clothes merchant.
Think Meduseld with less gold and horses.
The Invarrian finishes the conversation and pays the man. Now looking the part of a wealthy sea-raider, Harold goes to find Baronet Edmond Carhold.

He makes his way to the Great Hall. It is old, older in fact than most of the town around it. Sitting high upon the Summer Hill itself, the hall commands an imposing view upon the surrounding lands. Harold doesn’t know the history of this place, but even he can tell it’s of an older style than the rest of the town. Walking up the stairs, he is stopped at the doors by a guardsman in a thick, dark red leather tabard.
“Who might you be?” – Guardsman.
“Harold Oakenshield of Varr.” – Harold, answering as formally as he can.
“And what business brings you here?” – Guardsman.
“I wish to see the Naillish ambassador if possible.” – Harold.
“Is the Baronet expecting you?” – Guardsman.
“No, I would like to make an appointment.” – Harold.
The guardsman beckons over a page.
“Tell the Baronet that a Harold Oakenshield is here to see him.” – Guardsman to the page.

Harold and the guardsman engage in some conversation while the page is away, yielding some information. The guardsman is actually the captain of Summer Hill’s guard, Royan Setwatch. After almost ten minutes, the page returns and quietly gives the guardsman Carhold’s response.
“The Baronet is free to see you now Sir Oakenshield. Please allow me to take your weapon.” – Setwatch, polite as he should be towards a foreign dignitary. Even if that dignitary is considered as such because of his ability to kill, steal and plunder.
Harold hands over his sabre, having left the rest of his armoury on the cart and is guided inside by the page to the eastern wing of the hall. The page introduces the two men, acting somewhat like a herald.

“Sir Harold Oakenshield, of Varr, this is Lord Edmond Carhold, Naillish ambassador here in Summer Hill and Baronet of the Carhold.” – Page.
Harold sees a man of middling size, neither particularly tall nor short, with short dark hair and thick stubble on his jaw. He is between thirty and forty years of age and dressed in dark with a black leather jacket. The Invarrian holds out his hand and the Baronet takes it firmly.

“Ah, Sir Oakenshield. What would bring you here?” – Edmond Carhold, inquisitively.
“I’m here on a matter of business between our two peoples.” – Harold Oakenshield, putting his nobility guise on.
“A matter of business?” – Edmond, warming to the theme.
“There has been some talk that it might be more profitable to trade with Midlanders rather than raid them.” – Harold, getting straight to the point.
“I see.” – Edmond, with a slight grin. It suggests that he himself has not had to deal with aftermath of an Invarrian assault. “And where would this talk be coming from?”
“Some younger members, some older members of the Invarrian court obviously. I quite like the idea of offering trade myself. Who would dare raid the raiders? And it would be profitable for both our people.” – Harold, smugly confident that he has the upper hand.
“You raise a fair point. Now, I have happen to have some knowledge of you.” – Edmond.
“Really?” – Harold.
“Yes.” – Edmond.
“And what do you know?” – Harold.
“I happen to know that you haven’t been on Varr for years. So could you please tell me how it is you would know what is being said in the Invarrian courts these days?” – Edmond, playing his wildcard.
“Well not today obviously, but when I was last home there was talk of this. And if an older personality were to return to court and support this, with an interested party, ready to go. It could be useful.” – Harold, backtracking smoothly.
“I can see that this proposal has its benefits. I can certainly see how it would benefit me.” – Carhold, nodding. “Now you are aware that I am no merchant?”
“I am aware of this, but you are a nobleman and can therefore talk to your king and have the trade rights written up and ready for us to sign.” – Harold.
“I can think of two more objections, the first being that the Invarrians, whilst they as far as I am aware, hold a certain amount of respect for their Stormlord, they are by no means a united kingdom. Would they hold to an agreement? Would the Stormlord be able to prevent his reavers from attacking Naillish ships?” – Edmond, revealing he knows a surprising amount about the way things are done on Varr.
“I could not say. But if Invarrians loyal to the Stormlord were to find out that some reavers were forsaking a bond between the Stormlord and your king, those reavers would be considered traitors and punished as such.” – Harold.
Carhold smiles, though he does not seem entirely convinced.
“My last objection is that Naille is a land bound kingdom and your people are predominantly seafarers. As it is, I see no direct avenues for trade. We are landlocked and share no borders with you. Any trade would be occurring through hostile territory. ” – Edmond.
“Hmmm, this is true.” – Harold, at a loss. He, of course, doesn’t really know the geography of the area very well.

In response, Carhold finds a map and unrolls in upon the table.
I try my best to draw a map. It’s awful but at least gets the point across. Instead of trying to explain it, I’ll just have to scan and upload the slightly better map I drew later. So:

WATCH THIS SPACE FOR A MAP OF SUMMER HILL AND THE SURROUNDING AREA.

They continued their little conversation.

“Well, there’s Winterbourne. They have a coastline. You could establish a trade agreement with them.” – Harold.
“Now, our king and the king of Winterbourne traditionally do not have much love for each other. At the moment, we are quite neutral, but it would be very difficult to arrange. There’s a lot of hatred there.” – Edmond, looking over the map.
“How about Greymont then?” – Harold.
“Heh, funny story there actually. Now this story really isn’t a secret, but all the same I will ask you not to spread this around. Greymont’s king is in his late twenties, but his wife is older as she was his late older brother’s wife before he died an untimely death. As is tradition, as his brother’s unmarried heir, he married the widow and adopted his brother’s young daughter too. The girl is of a comparable age with our own king and it is common knowledge that Greymont wishes to marry her off to him to prevent her from contesting the throne with any future heirs he might sire himself.

As you can imagine, we do not want to be in a position where Greymont can say, yes but only if our king marries their bastard girl.” – Edmond.

“Well, you may not get along with the men of Winterbourne, but perhaps it might be worth opening up a lucrative trade agreement with them, opening up a way to a trade agreement with us. In itself, it might stop them from wanting to trade with Elspeth.” – Harold.
“There’s not much chance of that happening. Greymont hates Elspeth more than they hate us.” – Edmond. “Your idea does have some merit. I shall have to consider this.”
“Of course. There’s no need to rush to any conclusions here. Please take your time.” – Harold.
“I thank you. You must remember, I am only a baronet and that my position does not give me much standing in court. I can speak, but I cannot promise I will be heeded. But I shall gladly send a message to my king and inform him of this offer.” – Edmond, swallowing his pride. “As a further question, what sort of goods would be on offer here?”

Harold is well aware that the goods his people would attempt to sell would be goods pillaged off other people. Carhold probably is as well. On the other hand, Invarrians do have skilled leather and metal workers.

“Well-made leather, well-made steel.” – Harold
“Well-made **** from other lands.”
“If Invarrians can no longer raid certain points along the coast, they will concentrate more on places we can raid. So if a certain location has something you want….” – Harold, leaving the ending open.
Carhold laughs and pours two goblets of wine. The two clink the glasses together and knock them back, toasting a to-be successful business partnership.

And we left it there,

The Wrap-Up:
I'm not home at the moment so I can't actually tell you what they took, but everyone save Tremor had access to the Major Talents Sins and Lights have been working on due to the majority of the group reaching their fifth levels in their respective classes. No one has elected to multi-class yet, something I am grateful for as I can just guess that they'll pick classes I haven't finished yet. :smalltongue:

The Infamous Fireball of course refers to Maebh's Flare, something which the group has discussed at length. Dev admits he deserved it and Ladyhawk admits she was heavy-handed but I imagine there will still be a strained relationship between the characters. Which does make sense really, though it is sad as personally I like having a friendly party. Picking on Breanna was fine, but throwing fireballs is not good. :smallwink:

Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed that. We're taking a bit of a break due to exams and assignments. Ladyhawk, Sins and myself are just getting really busy at the moment, but we hope to have a game played by the end of June. Sins has something like ten tests in three weeks, Ladyhawk has several assignments and I have an exam and a few assignments too. Plus an essay that I only found about today. On the plus side, I've managed to figure out a way to write about Lord of the Rings, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

See you next time,

Amidus Drexel
2013-05-27, 11:09 PM
Heh, intra-party conflict is nigh-inevitable in a party with human players. :smallamused:

Always good to cut it short, though.

As always, this is incredibly entertaining, and I look forward to more. :smallcool:

Marlowe
2013-05-30, 11:45 PM
Very enjoyable thread and I'm interested in the system. I must say the setting sounds frighteningly brutal. Like midsection "Canticle for Liebowitz" brutal. Is it just the PCs?

Phoenixguard09
2013-05-31, 01:16 AM
Hey Marlowe,

Glad you're enjoying our little adventure and I hope you stick around. :smallsmile:

To answer your question, the setting itself aims for a relatively dark fantasy. A splash of horror here and there for those who like it, but I envision it as allowing a GM to play whatever sort of game he likes. Hopefully anyway. :smallwink:

Now when you ask about the brutality, if you refer to instances such as Maebh's sacrifice, then that is Ladyhawk's homage to some source material. With the addition of a small amount of sadism I guess. :smalltongue:

However stuff like the torture of the prisoner they took is just the sort of game I like to run. Basically, if I get a group of heroic characters, I will gently prod them towards things that seem necessary at the time, but when looking back on it are viewed as evil. I like exploring the idea of just how far you will go to be a hero.

And in addition to that, the setting is pretty brutal too. Only luck came between Kel'Serrar and death in the very first combat with the marcwolves, Harold has come close a few times, and Tremor came way too close in the combat with Chirya. I have rules for losing limbs, appendages and the like too, but I asked them what they thought of it before I decided on implementing the rules for this campaign.

After all, we're trying to have fun here and playing a cripple might dampen the experience for some.

So yes, to a certain extent the setting is brutal, as is the system, although I like to think it's a bit more gritty realism in terms of combat, rather than over the top lethality.

Plus Luck Points play a part too, helping people out with regards to actually being heroic. Without them, I don't think anyone would dare. :smalltongue:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-06-21, 07:49 AM
Well, we just played Session 1.8: Walking Away.

Next session hopefully in about a fortnight. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2013-07-04, 12:55 AM
Just letting everyone know that the write-up for Session 1.8 is coming soon, I've just been a bit busy recently, what with sorting out university stuff, Ladyhawk's birthday celebrations and some other stuff which I don't exactly remember at the moment. :smalltongue:

On the other hand, we had hoped to play Session 1.9 this Friday, but this has been postponed for at least a week. Maybe two. We shall see.

Anyway, the write-up is coming,

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-08-01, 03:04 AM
So as to make sure that you all know what is happening, we plan to play Session 1.9 tomorrow night.

I'm really aiming to have 1.8 available to read tonight, but damn I've been busy. :smalltongue:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-08-01, 11:30 AM
Session 2.5: Walking Away

Welcome to Session 2.5.

"YOU LOST THE GAME!" - LD
"Now that we've got the obligatory reference out of the way-"
"Go see Man of Steel!" - Dev.
"Shut up Dev." - Ladyhawk.
"Just shut up. Reference time is over." - Wings.

Okay, then, moving on. Small recap, Harold has just had a meeting with Edmond Carhold, the Naillish ambassador to Summer Hill in his apartments in the Grand Hall. The rest of the party meanwhile are still sifting through what is left of Rangard's house.

Harold walks out of Carhold's apartment feeling good about what he has just done. He comes face to face with a small man of Selkye descent, clad in dark grey. He has a recurve bow at his back with a quiver of black fletched arrows at his back. His eyes flash with recognition as his hand reaches for a knife at his belt.

There is a fair bit of discussion regarding what Harold should do here, as Dev tries to gather a bit more information on the surroundings, namely that there are no guards in sight and the combat is taking place in a corridor. There is a closed door directly behind the Invarrian's assailant, in addition to the closed door behind Harold which leads to Carhold's rooms.

This discussion devolves into hysterics when Ladyhawk suggests tackling the man and going for his knife-hand, the accompanying hand gesture appearing rather risqué. As the majority of the group is dirty-minded in the extreme, there was over a minute of laughter and progressively worse re-enactments of Ladyhawk's initial suggestion.

Children.....

On the other hand, it did end up reminding me of a joke. To be warned, children should probably look away now, and it's probably only going to make sense with those familiar with Warhammer.

How many Slaaneshi cultists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
At least two of course, but how they got in there is anyone's guess.

Crass, I know, but everyone thought it was funny on the night.


Harold moves forward and attempts to grasp his assailant's wrist to prevent him from drawing the knife.

An opposed Dexterity Check for Harold here.

Opposed Checks work along the premise of rolling over your opponent's Statistic, with a negative or bonus equal to every point either over or under the opponent's Statistic. In this case, Harold needed to roll above his opponent's Dexterity, with a negative of 12, as his opponent's Dexterity was 12 points higher.

Harold manages to grab hold of the smaller man's wrist.

"****!" - Selkye assassin, startled, who attempts a left-handed punch at Harold's face.
The strike fails to connect.
"Nice try." - Harold, who strikes back.
The assassin ducks under the Invarrian's roundhouse punch and lays a hand on Harold's forearm.

Failed Willpower Check from Harold.

Oakenshield falls to the ground, instantly deprived of physical motion, and slowly drifting into a magical coma. The assassin steps over the defeated Invarrian and opens the door to Carhold's rooms.

"Wha- AAARGH!" - Carhold, taken by surprise as a knife flies across the room and embeds itself in his shoulder.

Harold is about to get up when he hears what can only be described as an earth-shaking roar from behind the other door. Said door is slammed off its hinges and an eight foot tall, jet black Feartarbh charges across the hallway and into Carhold's rooms, luckily stepping over the Invarrian on the floor.

The Selkye looks behind him and immediately darts to a window, flinging himself through it. The Feartarbh follows, taking half the wall with him.

"YES! I love this guy!" - Dev.
"Can we make him party leader instead of Harold?" - Sins.
"Yes, can we?" - Dev.

Carhold comes over to Harold and helps the Invarrian up, the Selkye's spell swiftly being overcome by Harold's natural toughness.

"Thank you for standing between the assassin and myself, but I think my shadow will take care of it now." - Carhold, with a bit of a smile.
"I'm sure he will enjoy it." - Harold, returning the grin.
"Shall I help you to a doktor of some description?" - Harold, using the Invarrian term, not knowing the Midland word.
"No thank you, the mayor's physician should suffice. I will make my way there now." - Carhold.
With his hand to his shoulder, he heads off.

Harold, still shaking off his magically induced sleep, makes his own way to a drinking establishment.

Meanwhile, Breanna comes to the conclusion that any evidence left in Rangard's house would have been incinerated, blown away or drowned. Therefore, leaving now would not necessarily be a bad idea. Together, the rest of the group find Harold in the Iron Moon Inn, the first place they look for him, knowing that his problems with higher authority will lead to repeat occurrences of him bringing his marcwolf pup into the only establishment with a "No Dogs," policy.

Maebh walks over to Harold, who sits in a booth, nursing a mug of ale with his pup sitting beside him.
"May I speak to you?" - Maebh, uncomfortable with the situation.
"You can." - Harold, blunt and not looking up at her.
"I am very sorry for reacting how I did. I attacked in anger and I do sincerely apologise." - Maebh, awkward and clearly not used to apologising.

"Can I add puppy-dog eyes?" - Ladyhawk, giving her best approximation. It's quite effective in reality.
"... I think she should roll on Charisma to see if I'm affected by puppy-dog eyes." - Dev, thoughtful.
"Okay then, Ladyhawk, Charisma Check."
A 03.
"You are very much affected by the puppy-dog eyes. Mainly because you see them and think, 'Awww, reminds me of home.'"

As an aside, this conversation was quite awkward. I mean, how often does this situation occur in reality.
"I am very sorry for the way I acted." - Party 1, remorseful.
Party 2 turns to a random bystander.
"I accept the apology." - Party 2.
Dev tried precisely this by turning to me after the laughter following the puppy-dog eyes check had died down and announcing that he accepted the apology.

Everyone else sits down at Harold's table and buys various drinks and food. They proceed to sit around and ignore the fact that they are on an urgent, deadly quest.

To cut down on pointless exposition, they inform me that they are sulking because they've hit a dead-end and their employer is dead. I inform them that they are useless and there is much laughter. LD says that everyone's useless, leading to Dev saying that she's one of the most useless members of the party. LD fires back by reminding everyone of Dev's inability to hit the marcwolf in the first encounter. Dev threatens her with death by pencil.

"Ah, I've had worse." - Wings, matter-of-fact.
Silence....
"You've.... died?"
"No, been threatened with worse. Paper cuts was the worst." - Wings, nodding.
"No, no, no, paper cuts.... and lemon juice!" - Dev.

And my plot goes down the drain as everyone decides that talking about their favourite methods of mutilating captives is far more productive.

Moving on....

I decide that it's time to throw them a lifeline.
"Now, think about this. Rangard sent you guys to go check out Shylocke. Now you checked out his house, but where did Rangard tell you to go find Shylocke?"
"Ah, the marketplace?" - Ladyhawk.
"No...."
"Oh, the place they trampled me! The inn!" - LD.
"The Harvest Wolf." - Sins.
"THAT!" - LD.
"Exactly. That's where he told you to go. If you remember, Rangard told you to get into that backroom because Shylocke goes in there often to have little meetings and such that Meldith was not able to get into. Now, Breanna broke up that meeting, and the Trickster was, perhaps, present. At least as present as you can suspect the Trickster to be."

"So that meeting was in the back room of the Harvest Wolf. What does that lead to?"

There was a lot of talk about the significance of the Harvest Wolf. How it was an easily accessible location for the cult generally.

"Who owns the inn?" - Sins.
"Wilmund Brewer."
"That's a great last name." - Sins.

I then ask who everyone thinks is the main bad guy and then who they need to stop immediately. Most toss up between Rangard or Shylocke being the main bad-guys, though everyone agrees that the Queen of Elspeth is probably in charge of one of them.

"Alright, this is getting nowhere. Who's Dhara working for? Or is she in charge of her own operation?"
"Nah, she's just a hand." - Wings.
"Well there's two options. Either she's an independent or she's working for the other side. If she's an independent, then that's a third or fourth faction which we were not even aware of." - Sins.
"She did specifically say that she was suspicious of both Rangard and Shylocke." - Dev.
"Yeah I think it's safe to say she's not on Rangard's side. But she might be on Shylocke's." - Sins.

They then discuss how much they disclosed to Dhara about their employer, situation and investigations.

To help everyone with keeping track of what was actually disclosed to Dhara, here's that conversation the players couldn't completely remember.

Taking the now full bowl, Harold walks over to the tied up woman and splashes it on her face, drenching her upper body. She wakes up spluttering, scared and obviously with a massive headache.

Dev considers asking the rest of the group to leave the immediate area here.
“Well, we’re not interrogating her.” – Harold.
“What are you going to do then?” – Maebh.
“Uh, I was thinking charming her.” – Harold.
Everyone cracks up.
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF CRAP!” – Harold, exasperated.
“I’ll get the bandages….” – Kel’Serrar, resigned.
“You’ve tied her to a boulder, how charming could you possibly be?”
“I want to hear this played out actually.” – Sins.

The others back off a small distance, but all of them are within earshot and Kel’Serrar has an arrow nocked and ready.

“I am sorry about my associate knocking you out. I had no choice in the matter. What’s your name?” – Harold, putting on his best ‘I’m a sweet, lovable dog-man, not a vicious killer,’ voice.

“Can you let me go first?” – Red-clad woman, eyes darting from side to side.
Slowly, steadily so as not to startle her, the Invarrian reaches across and unties the ropes. Despite this, he is still somewhat wary, hand on the hilt of one of his swords.

“My name is Dhara.” – Dhara, smiling with just a little more goodwill than before.

A Southlander name.

“So why were you following us Dhara?” – Harold, gently.
“Oh, I saw you in Summer Hill and thought there was something suspicious about the Harvest Wolf. I saw your performance there yesterday and I realised that we were on the same side. So I wanted to come and meet with you, share information and find out what you know about this business.” – Dhara, earnestly.

“Well, why don’t you tell us what you know first, and then we’ll tell you?” – Harold.
“Well, I’m afraid I really don’t know that much. I’ve only recently found an interesting correlation between Morgaris Shylocke and Petyr Rangard. I think they might be working together on something which bodes ill for Summer Hill.” – Dhara.

“Hmm, now that adds up with why Rangard would want that Focus Stone. I mean, they are trying to summon a giant daemon, a Focus Stone would help.” – Kel’Serrar.

“This is true.” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar. He turns back to Dhara. “We were actually hired by Rangard. Unfortunately, we are not sure what is actually happening, but for now we’re just trying to get some information. There is a bandit camp in the area. We’re trying to find it.”

“Ah yes, I know of this bandit camp. A notice was actually put up in the area about a month ago, warning the town as a whole that bandits were in the area. They should be just to north-west of here.” – Dhara, nodding. She’s trying to helpful.

“Breanna, I believe you have her knife.” – Harold, holding his hand out expectantly. Breanna hands it over. Holding the blade of the longknife in his hand, the Invarrian offers the woman back her knife.

“Why thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again when I woke up without it.” – Dhara, sheathing the blade in the scabbard down her leg.

“You’re coming with us to the bandit camp. I think we’d all appreciate it if you would watch our backs for us.” – Harold, using his staff to push back to his feet.
“That’s good, I’m happy to help. I have a feeling you’re all working towards the good of Summer Hill.” – Dhara, also getting to her feet, a little unsteady due to the headache.
“Okay, we’re moving out.” – Harold, to the rest of the party.

Following on from this, it's pointed out that no one could really know it was they who trashed Shylocke's place.

Despite not having come to any conclusions, Maebh speaks up in the middle of this discussion.

"Look at us! We're not doing anything. We should stop this moping and actually go do something. Let's go." - Maebh, as she stands up, takes up her spear and begins to walk out of the tavern.

The rest follow her out and they all stand outside the door of the Iron Moon.

"I want to go to the Harvest Wolf." - Harold.

There's a bit more discussion here. I shall condense it for the sake of brevity as it really wasn't all that groundbreaking. The Selkye assassin comes up and Harold explains that he seemed to recognise the Invarrian. Maebh immediately wants to go after him, prompting Harold to inform her that he was last seen with a massive Feartarbh pursuing him through the town. Ladyhawk then hopes that the elderly couple who helped them earlier are okay and Sins, LD and Ladyhawk all threaten me that if those old people are either evil or harmed, there will be consequences.

It turns out that Breanna is the best tracker of the group, seeing as she has taken a bonus to the Survival Skill, followed by Maebh and Tremor who have taken the Skill and Kel'Serrar and Harold have not.

It's decided that Tremor and Kel'Serrar should go try to find Dhara while Maebh and Breanna attempt to go find the Selkye assassin and Harold heads to the Harvest Wolf to scout out the situation.

Maebh and Breanna.
The two girls make their way to the Grand Hall, walking around the side of the building to the approximate place Harold told them about. They find that there is a rather large hole in the west wall of the Hall. Peering inside they first see a massive black Feartarbh sitting at a table. The Feartarbh notices them as they approach and appears furious before calming down almost immediately.

"Sorry." - Feartarbh, gruffly apologetic.
"Hello. How are you?" - Maebh, trying to be friendly.
The Feartarbh responds with a somewhat quizzical look. His silence is more confused than unfriendly however.
"We wish to help you with your search for the Selkye. We have some questions of our own we would like answered." - Maebh.
"How did you know about the Selkye?" - Feartarbh.
"We are friends with the Invarrian you ran over." - Maebh. This cracked us up.
"What Invarrian?" - Feartarbh.
"The man you were chasing incapacitated our friend and in your rush to catch him, had to step over his body. He later came and told us the story." - Maebh.
The massive Feartarbh looks down at the floor, and if it weren't for his bulk and fearsome appearance, one would guess he looks ashamed.
"Oh. I didn't see him." - Feartarbh.
Maebh pats him consolingly on his arm.
"Aww, he looks so cuddly in my head." - Ladyhawk. I guess my description of an eight foot tall, jet black minotaur came across as cute. Despite the massive build and horns. Dev suggests I obtain a small stuffed minotaur for Ladyhawk for Christmas.
"I need to find my charge now, I am late. Farewell." - Feartarbh, who nods in a companionable manner and walks out of the room, probably looking for Carhold.

Maebh and Breanna head down the hill from the smashed wall, heading into the heart of the market district. They quickly deduce that the chase probably didn't last too long. They can see an overturned market stall with the owner struggling valiantly to right it.

Tremor and Kel'Serrar.
Looking for Dhara, Kel'Serrar suggests that heading out of town might be the easiest way to find her. The two of them head toward the eastern gate. As they do so, a grey-fletched arrow flies down from behind, striking the ground between them. Tied around the arrow is a small scroll.


Meet me at the eastern gate tonight,
Bring the rest of the party,

M,

"Could that be Meldith?" - Tremor.
"Shylocke's first name is Morgaris...." - Kel'Serrar, worried.

They decide that Kel'Serrar will go find Breanna and Maebh and Tremor will try to find Harold. It is already late afternoon so they will have to hurry if they wish to meet the mystery figure tonight.

Harold.
The Invarrian goes to the Harvest Wolf and sees a small body of clients in the tavern. He heads to a secluded seat at the back of the establishment and proceeds to sit and watch. The clientele seem to be enjoying themselves, Brewer can be seen at the bar, polishing tankards and a young man, Brewer's assistant, is sweeping the floor in front of the hearth. Harold goes to the bar and orders a pint of strong beer before sitting back down. As he does so, an obviously rushing Tremor bursts in and immediately uses the privy.

It is a running joke now that whenever a player excuses themselves from the table to see to the call of nature, their character also runs off to find the nearest privy/convenient bush.

Maebh, Breanna and Kel'Serrar.
Meanwhile, the two girls approach the man who is still clearly struggling with the weight of his stall. He sells bolts of cloth, many of them quite exotic, and all the rolls are large affairs and rather weighty.

"Did you happen to see a Selkye and Feartarbh run past here earlier?" - Breanna.
"Oh, I saw the Feartarbh going that way. How could I miss him?" - Cloth-trader, pointing to the west and further into the market district. "But I didn't see what he was chasing."

While the two girls are questioning the merchant, a clearly tiring Kel'Serrar runs up to them.

"We've found something of interest on the way out of town. It seems we either have a message from an unknown benefactor or a slight problem. Considering how little we actually know, we might need to take this opportunity." - Kel'Serrar, after swiftly getting his breath back. "Oh, and we all have to be there."
"Fair enough." - Maebh.
"Was there a name?" - Breanna.
"M." - Kel'Serrar.
"Okay then. Brilliant." - Breanna, sarcastic.

Harold and Tremor.
Harold keeps an eye on the old barkeep and therefore notices when Brewer ducks into the backroom as soon as Tremor walks into the privy. This piques the Invarrian's interest, not that Brewer walked out as soon as Tremor removed himself from the room, but that Brewer exited the common room in as surreptitious a fashion as possible.

The Dwergar swiftly finishes his business and heads out of the privy to see that the Invarrian is not attending his drink very closely, scanning the rest of the tavern as he is. Tremor walks over to Harold's table, intending to swipe some of the Invarrian's beer.

Tremor reaches the table and takes a long pull from the tankard.
"We've got a message from someone who only signed off as 'M.' It's a bit suspicious but I think we're looking at meeting whoever this is tonight." - Tremor.
"Did they give a specific time?" - Harold, still scanning the tavern.
"No, just that it needed to be tonight and the whole group." - Tremor.

Harold concentrates on the conversation that he can hear from the other clients of the inn. One man has lost his cat. Another man is complaining about a large rat problem in the residential district.
I had to specify here that large rat problem didn't necessarily mean that large rats were the problem, but that the rats constituted a large problem. I got a laugh and we moved on. And before anyone asks, LD was the one with the obligatory Princess Bride reference, namely ROUS's.
Finally a workman on the other side of the common room responds loudly enough for the whole room to hear to a question about which Harold is intimately familiar with.

“No, haven’t seen him around at all. But did you know his servants were found on the road outside his house with arrow wounds? How suspicious is that?” - Midlander workman.
Harold pricks his ears up, but aside from that, attempts to stay inconspicuous.
"No, I didn't hear that. Reckon he's dead too?" - Another workman.
"Why would we not have heard about the servants dying?" - Third workman.
"What do you think it means?" - Second workman, asking the first.
"How did you hear about it anyway?" - Third workman, continuing his train of thought, also addressing the first man.
"Because my cousin saw it happen." - First workman, only answering the last question.

Upon discussion, the group reason that this cousin probably didn't see who was responsible. The group is after all, quite easily recognised. Harold is about the only Invarrian in town and both Maebh and Kel'Serrar cut rather individual figures in the area. Only Tremor and Breanna could potentially blend into the populace, and neither of them particularly successfully. The Dwergar and Leathe populations are small in Summer Hill. The fact that the authorities aren't out after an old black and white Invarrian suggests that they're not aware that Harold had a part in this.

Seeing that Harold is ignoring him, Tremor walks over to a small booth in the corner of the common room where two dwarves are sitting, one smoking a pipe and both cradling tankards of some strong alcohol. The Dwergar notices that these are Geardarr, or hill dwarves, more tanned and less stocky than his own people. The older one with his pipe looks up with his one good eye and smiles at the new arrival.
"Ey laddie, grab a seat!" - Old Geardarr, obviously rolling drunk. There is at least a score of empty tankards littering the tabletop, with even more having fallen beneath it.
"Don't mind if I do. " - Tremor, returning the grin.
"AY! GET US THREE ALES NYUH!" - Old Geardarr, massive grin plastered to his face and beckoning to the bartender.
"Uh-huh." - Bartender, who props his broom against the wall and walks around behind the bar.

Within seconds of Tremor deserting him, Harold had walked to the bar to wait for service.
"What can I get you sir?" - Bartender, whilst pouring three tankards of ale for the dwarves.
"Four pints of your best beer." - Harold, already fishing out the coins.
"You right to take those four to your table? Because I don't think those dwarves can get up over there." - Bartender with a wry grin.
"I'm right." - Harold with a chuckle, who takes the pints two in each hand and walks over to the table of workmen.

The bartender then deposits the tankards with the dwarves and then retreats back behind the bar.

Maebh, Breanna and Kel'Serrar.
"Alright, I guess we have to go. How much time do we have?" - Maebh, referring of course to the mysterious note.
"The note says tonight. What time that means is anyone's guess." - Kel'Serrar.
"Assuming nightfall, that gives us three, four hours at the most?" - Maebh.
"Thereabouts." - Kel'Serrar.
"Should we keep looking for this assassin while we still have light?" - Maebh.

The three then wander through the marketplace, asking if the Selkye has been seen, but the merchants are not particularly helpful, their attention drawn mainly to the massive Feartarbh rather than whatever he was chasing. The best they can do is just point to the west.

This having failed them, the three travel from door to door of the dwellings which rim the marketplace, asking if anyone has heard strange noises coming from the rooves. Unfortunately, this doesn't turn up any results.
"Excuse me, have you heard any weird noises from the rooftops today?" - Kel'Serrar, executing his best salesman voice.
You do turn up one creepy individual.
"Hello, I'd like to..." - Best seedy impression I could do.
"SLAM THE DOOR!" - Wings.

Then follows some discussion about the feasibility of asking about rooftop jaunts, mainly that the beginning of the chase occurred down the middle of the market district, which is an open plaza. The possibility of someone being able to escape unseen onto the rooftops in broad daylight while being actively chased is slim to none.

The problem is, the Selkye is rather inconspicuous and the Feartarbh would have drawn the attention of anyone who saw the chase.

I couldn't figure out why this came up but LD started an interesting tangent.
"Why is there an 8 foot tall minotaur on my roof!?" - LD
"Actually it would probably be, why is there an 8 foot tall minotaur in my bathroom." - Dev.
"Why does my bathroom no longer exist? All of a sudden, it's open-air."

"You've run into a dead-end with this investigation."
"What about the Feartarbh? Did he just run through it? No dead-ends for him!" - LD.
"He is a dead-end."


Having hit a metaphorical dead-end, Maebh decides to head back to the Grand Hall, thinking to talk to the Feartarbh again. Breanna and Kel'Serrar follow her.

More to come. :smallsmile: Right here. :smallbiggrin: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15736690&postcount=75)

Phoenixguard09
2013-08-01, 11:39 AM
And here it is. :smallbiggrin:

Harold and Tremor.
From the scars all over the younger Geardarr's hands, Tremor deduces he is a carpenter or blacksmith or maybe even a butcher. He is not a warrior, being neither particularly well-muscled, nor scarred in a way which suggests conflict in his past. The scars appear to be small knife cuts to his hands. The elder dwarf has a long, pale scar running down the side of his face, from his temple and down his neck. He is weathered and his face craggy, his demeanour and presence leading Tremor to believe that he was a mercenary in the past, though he has since gone to seed.

"So, how is your trade progressing these days?" - Tremor to the younger dwarf, knocking back a mouthful of ale.
"You would be amazed how many people are after good woodwork these days. The blacksmiths all want it for their weapons. My business is going well." - Geardarr carpenter with a wink, he too knocking back his ale.
"I couldn't help but notice your eye, but your scar looks to be a similarly grievous wound. How did it happen?" - Tremor, turning to the elder.
"Ah lad! Aaah, I in tha hills, tha Arrer Hills, I lost me eye. Tha carrion they came up and took it! Cut us up real good, but no they didn't get me, didn't get me, didn't get me. I lay down, all quiet like and wait til there's no sun, no moon, nothin. An' then, when 'ey start gettin' all riled up and e'erythin', that's when I ups me axe and took a few of them! I paid 'em back real good for me eye, but I never be findin' it again." - Old dwarf warrior, who trails off into his ale, obviously scarred by the event in more than just body.
There is a little silence at the table as the three dwarves take care of their ales.
"Did you hear a house burnt down in town just last night?" - Geardarr carpenter, changing the subject.
"Ah yeah, do you know what happened?" - Tremor.
"No, not really. As far as I know, the man inside hasn't been seen since though. Probably dead." - Carpenter.
"Hmm, who was it? Anyone you knew?" - Tremor.
"No, I didn't know him. Heard he was a sorcerer though. Set his house on fire to destroy the evidence some people are saying." - Carpenter.

Many fanfares from the assembled group. They find it interesting that their own suspicions on Rangard are being carried out by the rest of the town.

"Do you reckon you could still wield a weapon?" - Tremor to the elder.
"Ah, I'd a-love to laddie. But I can a-see about three o' ye at tha moment." - Elder, surprisingly upbeat.
"Could you sober up in the next three or so hours?" - Tremor.
"Uh, no lad! Too much alcohol." - Elder, unrepentantly cheerful.
"And you?" - Tremor, to the younger dwarf.
"Eh, not much use in a fight mate. Sorry." - Carpenter, shamefaced.

Harold meanwhile has brought drinks over to the group of workmen, and while they first favour him with suspicious looks, mainly on account of his fine clothing, they quickly realise that he's brought them beer, so he can't be all bad.

"I heard you talking about Shylocke's house. Did you say that some poor buggers were found outside? Do you know what happened?" - Harold, passing around the drinks.

"Why did you say that in an Irish accent?" - Wings.
"Because I like my Irish accent you ****er." - Dev, good naturedly.
"That became Scottish." - LD.
"I also like changing my accent halfway through." - Dev.
"Now that one started to go Welsh."
"I'm having an identity crisis!" - Dev.

And then we got sidetracked talking about kebabs for about six minutes.... Yes, that seriously happened.

"I know, it's awful isn't it? We reckon he killed all those men and ran away into the forest." - The second workman from earlier, who identifies himself as Wawrike.
"Why would he do that though? He was the most powerful man in town?" - The third workman, an older man by the name of Patris.
"More powerful than even the mayor really." - Garron, the first workman with a short laugh.
"How could he have that much power? I'm new here." - Harold, inquisitive.
"Ah, well he has all the money. Not that Mayor Redwyn has that much power anyway. Well, not him personally." - Patris, knowingly.
"In fact, I don't even know how he could have so much money." - Wawrike, referring again to Shylocke.
"What about Rangard? I don't know much, but he's a big name around the town too isn't he?" - Harold.
"Ah yeah, he's that other merchant isn't he? It was his house that burnt down, right?" - Garron.
"The short man right? I heard he dabbled in all kinds of sorcery." - Wawrike, making a sign to ward himself against Black Magic.
"Probably dead. And if he was a sorcerer, than a good thing that is too." - Patris.
"What type of sorceries did he dabble in?" - Harold, perhaps fishing a little too deeply here.
"You'll mind your own business if you know what's good for you. Asking questions like that can only attract the wrong sort of attention friend." - Patris, in a warning, but friendly tone.
"His friend definitely was a sorcerer though. Up to his eyes in Black Magic" - Garron, in an undertone.

Of course the players don't know if that makes him a warlock or if that's the superstition talking.

They then discuss that Rangard did tell them his friend was a magic user, though he died at the hand of Mordra Goldshine, stabbed in the back.
"Aww, poor mage." - Ladyhawk.
"That's okay, we stabbed that guy in the back ourselves." - Wings.
"Actually Kel'Serrar shot him in the top of the end."
"Which is a kind of stabbing." - Dev.
"He died of natural causes. An arrow in the head naturally ends one's life." - Sins.

"Did anyone notice where the barkeep went?" - Tremor to his new friends.
"Ah, I didn't notice he'd gone." - Carpenter.
"Want another round?" - Tremor.
Both dwarves are pretty enthusiastic.
"I'll just go find him then. My shout." - Tremor, getting up and heading to the bar.
Harold has just gotten up to get some more drinks for his own table and the two meet at the bar.
"I'll be with you in a minute." - Brewer's assistant, who quickly heads into the backroom.
"Distract them, I want to find Brewer." - Tremor, whispering under his breath.
"He's in the back." - Harold, similarly discreet.
The assistant comes back into the common room.
"What can I get you?" - Bartender, polishing a tankard.
"I'd like to get a round for everyone!" - Harold, raising his voice at the end so that the whole bar focuses on him. There is much cheering.
The bartender starts to pour the beers and then hand them out after taking the Invarrian's money.

With successful Concealment and Silent Move Checks, Tremor sneaks around the bar and then finds the nemesis of hidden heroes everywhere. A closed door. He manages to open it without any problems.

Tremor
He steps carefully inside, using the shelves filled with barrels of alcohol to hide himself from the inhabitants of the room. There are two people sitting at a table in the centre of the room, lit by a single candle. One has his back to the Dwergar. The other is a short, elderly man, clean shaven with thinning grey hair. The room is quite dark, so that is about all Tremor is able to make out. The elderly man is sitting side-on to Tremor, so the Dwergar feels relatively safe from his hidden vantage point.

More generally successful checks.

Tremor makes a slight shuffling noise as he moves around to try and get a better view of the man with his back to him, who he suspects must be Brewer. The two men pause their muttered conversation and look around the room, but notice nothing odd and continue talking.

To Tremor's relief, the other man is Wilmund Brewer. The Dwergar stands as still as he can and listens into the conversation as well as he can.

Ladyhawk put it best I feel.
"But, but, but, he's a dwarf! How is he better at this than everyone else!?" - Ladyhawk.
The answer is a fair bit of luck and spending his Skill Pts on Concealment and Silent Movement despite everyone telling him he had better things to focus on.

Harold
Back out in the common room, Harold is feeling no ill-effect, however around him patrons are starting to feel a bit drowsy.

Garron faceplants on the table.

The Invarrian's eyelids begin to droop as the rest of the room starts to drop off. Even the two dwarves in the corner are affected, the elder one shaking the younger carpenter even as he too succumbs to the drowsiness.

Harold shakes it off as best he can. Something is seriously wrong here. It's mid afternoon. People should not just be falling asleep simultaneously at this time.

Maebh, Breanna and Kel'Serrar.
They make their way back to the Grand Hall, mood's somewhat disconsolate as they have been unsuccessful in finding the assassin. Approaching the gaping hole in the wall, they see a man they assume must be Carhold and the Feartarbh bodyguard sitting at the table, playing a card game.

It appears the noble is winning and as they approach they hear a deep baritone sigh and a quick laugh from the man as he pulls the small pile of gold towards himself. Both players look up when they notice the group of three approaching. Both appear friendly enough but Kel'Serrar notes that the Feartarbh does have an astounding number of massive weapons ready to hand, not the least of which the broad-bladed dagger at his belt, a blade which would pass for a broadsword in a smaller individual's possession.

"Hello again." - Maebh, rather friendly.
Both respond with friendly, yet quizzical looks.
"I'm still looking for the Selkye from earlier." - Maebh.
"I lost him." - The Feartarbh.
"Where did he go?" - Maebh.
"I don't know. That way." - The Feartarbh, pointing out the gaping hole in the wall. He is trying to be helpful, but he simply doesn't know where the man went.
"Where did you lose him?" - Maebh.
"At the end of the marketplace. He rounded the corner on the right and was gone." - The Feartarbh, unhappily.
"Do you have any idea who this assassin was?" - Maebh, to Carhold this time.
The noble gives her a look like, "Do you know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am?" - Ladyhawk.
"This is not a game of who the **** are you."
"Haven't got a clue." - Carhold, dismissing the matter and going back to his cards.
"I'm sorry, who are you again?" - Maebh.
"... Lord Edmond Carhold of Naille." - Carhold.
"Ah right... Never heard of you." - Maebh, dismissive.
Carhold gives the mage a piercing look and then starts to laugh, soon joined by the deeper booming laugh of his bodyguard.
"In all seriousness, do you have any idea who he is, where he's gone, anything like that? We need him." - Maebh, getting back to business.
"I don't know, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say an Elspeth agent. They wouldn't want me here." - Carhold.

And then it got really off the wall.
"If he ever comes back to assassinate you again, could you please tell him-" - Ladyhawk. That's as far as she got before we all cracked up laughing.
"WHAT!?" - Wings.
"Are you here to kill me? Oh, well I'd better just give you a message."
"Did you really just say that?"
"Yeah. If he comes back, or if you see him around, can you please tell him that Maebh at the cart by the gate wants to speak with him." - Ladyhawk, laughing.
We decided to pretend this bit didn't happen.

The three of them politely take their leave and make their way to the east gate to meet with the mysterious 'M.'

Tremor
"So, Morgaris, what's the situation?" - Brewer.
"They're coming along quickly. We hope to have it under control by midday tomorrow." - Shylocke.
"And then I appear from around the corner. BUSTED!" - LD.
"No! Stay out! No busting! Please!" - Dev.
"NO! In every single RPG campaign on the internet or movie or tv show or book, just when they're about to say something really important, someone knocks on the door, someone knocks something over, someone has to sneeze, someone dies. No busting!" - Ladyhawk.
That escalated quickly. Those selfish bastards, dying just before the plot is revealed. We did contemplate making Wings make a Willpower Check to avoid doing something stupid.
"Is the Legion ready?" - Shylocke.
"I will have word from the Captain tomorrow. Any time after that, they should be here and available for our use. Which is all to the good. What news have you on this group of cretins running around the town at the moment?" - Brewer.
"Are we the cretins?" - LD.
"Woot! We're moving up in the world!" - Sins.

"Yes, after they ransacked my house, I found my journal was missing. I made sure that they should not be able to come to any conclusions from that. At least I hope they will not." - Shylocke, somewhat shamefaced.
"Writing a journal was foolish, yet the mark of an organised mind. As such, I will not punish you for that. Back to the matter at hand, I have two of them out there now. I have told Larus to put a little nightshade into their drinks. I imagine that those two will be done by the time this conversation is over." - Brewer.
"Very good. I must go now Master. The longer I am in town, the greater the chance I will be discovered." - Shylocke.
"I must get back to the bar anyway to keep up appearances. May the Veil move aside for you." - Brewer.
"Thank you Master. As always, I am grateful for your time." - Shylocke, who walks out the back door Breanna used just the other day, disappearing. The door slowly creaks shut.
Brewer meanwhile walks out into the Harvest Wolf's common room.

Harold
The bartender is polishing the tankard with a feverish intensity noticing that the Invarrian is not dropping as quickly as the others. Despite the man's nervousness, Harold feels himself slipping away.

Failed a Toughness Check and then a Willpower Check to resist the poison. A Luck Point is spent to reroll the Willpower Check, but with no luck. Harold's in deep trouble now.

The Invarrian soon realises that his hands and legs are not responding. But he does have a general command of his arms. He attempts to pick up his drink in an attempt to splash it on his face to wake himself up, but his hands just won't respond. He spills his drink all over the table, the tankard falling to the floor.

Tremor
Knowing that the people out in the common room are slowly dying from Nightshade poisoning, Tremor immediately starts searching for an antidote. His initial results yield no results, so he takes a deep breath and searches again. He does find a few vials which he can't identify. They might be antidotes. They might be poisons. He takes both the green and red vials before rushing out into the common room, bursting through the door, hatchet in one hand and hammer in the other.

Wildly swinging, the Dwergar shoves the startled Brewer aside and smashes Larus' kneecap with the hammer, the assistant falling to the ground with pained scream. Tremor turns to Brewer.
"You've made a grave mistake dwarf." - Brewer, furious.
"So have you!" - Tremor, hefting his weapons.
The barkeep disappears in a blast of roiling flame, which billows towards Tremor and Larus, setting both their clothes and a not inconsiderable portion of the bar on fire. Tremor immediately stops, drops and rolls, seeing to himself before patting the flames out on his crippled prisoner.

"Now if I pour this beer down your throat, which vial will fix it?" - Tremor, to the scared, burnt, crippled bartender.
"I don't know! Don't hurt me!" - Larus, terrified.
"Let's test this shall we?" - Tremor.
"Seriously, I don't know!" - Larus. Tremor notices that the man's eyes flick towards the red vial.
The Dwergar pours some of the beer down the man's throat, and while there is much gurgling and spluttering, Larus eventually has no choice but to swallow. He immediately bursts into tears.
"I don't want to die!" - Larus, wailing.
"Which one is it?" - Tremor.
"I don't know!" - Larus, still wailing. Once again his eyes twitch to the red one.
"Alright, let's try the green one." - Tremor.
The bartender's eyes look to almost be daring the dwarf as Tremor prepares to administer the liquid. Tremor pours three drops down the man's throat and forces him to swallow it.
"I will still die." - Larus, almost resigned to his fate.
"Yes. Now what does this one do?" - Tremor, indicating the red vial.
"Extreme... pain...." - Larus, drifting off into a deep sleep. His breathing becomes more regulated, his eyelids droop and body relaxes.
Tremor administers three drops of the red vial.
Immediately, Larus' body convulses as if being hit by nightmares. He still appears to be unconscious, but in his convulsions, his chest seems to be rising in the air and his limbs flailing everywhere.

The Dwergar packs the vials away for later use and finds the insensible Invarrian, supporting the far taller Harold without too much trouble, despite his bad state.

Tremor finds an apothecary after a short walk, and meets a kind looking old man with a severely hooked nose. The apothecary introduces himself as Melvyn and agrees to do what he can for the poisoned Invarrian. Tremor informs him of the nightshade poisoning and happily hands over four sulvers for an antidote for his friend. He then asks Melvyn to identify the mixtures in the two vials, which the old apothecary hastens to do, looking first at the red vial and then the green.

"This first one is an infusion of fyrewort root in aqua. Makes you feel as if your very veins are on fire. It's a narcotic, but it does ease external pain, making it quite useful really for war surgeons. And that is a mild pain killer." - Melvyn the apothecary.

Harold is administered the antidote and then uses the next hour resting and building up his strength.
I informed Harold that once he gets over the poisoning he will be fine, but he will have the occasional twitch for the rest of his life.
"You're old already. It won't be that long." - Ladyhawk, callous.

Tremor helps Harold to the east gate to meet the others.

They spend a fair time planning how they're going to watch the gate in preparation for this meeting. After all, no one knows who this is going to be, but everyone has their suspicions and none of them are nice.

Walking to the gate, evening is just falling. The first thing they notice is a lack of guards upon the walls, however a short figure is standing beneath the gatehouse in the open gateway. The figure walks towards the group, cloaked and hooded, shrouded in the fading light.

"I can take you to Rangard." - Meldith Ivorwyn.
"He's alive?" - Tremor.
"He's alive and waiting for you outside the town." - Meldith.
"I see he's being somewhat subtle." - Kel'Serrar.
"Indeed, that's why I'm here as you can't seem to do that yourselves." - Meldith.
That's a burn.
The Selkye woman leads the companions out the gate and out onto the road.

Around Summer Hill is wide expanses of farmland and it is towards a nearby farmhouse that Meldith leads the companions. She knocks upon the door.
"Who is it?" - Disembodied voice from inside.
"Meldith. I have company." - Meldith.
The door opens and the party troop inside the small building.
A young man in a roughspun tunic opens the door, eyes widening as he looks at the company and then invites them in. He opens a trapdoor, revealing a stairwell which leads underground, beneath the farmhouse. The party follow Meldith down and come face to face with Petyr Rangard once more, sitting at a desk.
"Well well, friends. This is all your fault." - Rangard.
"Really?" - Maebh, indignant.
"Can we all just sit down before we start laying the blame on each other? Mainly because I've just been poisoned." - Harold, resigned.
"Oh yeah sure, take a seat. Especially after you made sure I lost all mine, and my walls and my roof and my books and everything I owned." - Rangard, bitter.
"How is that our fault?" - Tremor.
"They didn't know who I was. And all of a sudden they did. And that certainly couldn't have been because you told them could it?" - Rangard, sarcastic.
"I thought you said you were a known enemy?" - Harold.
"I didn't say that. I was cursed, but that was a dead drop. They had no idea who I was, which was the only reason they never went after me publically. And then you went around and you told them who I was." - Rangard.
"No, not us." - Kel'Serrar.
"We don't even know who they are! We're new to Summer Hill. You never told us anything!" - Harold, angry in his own turn.
"All I know is that one of their agents came in and she came in and said, "I know who's working against us." I have Meldith's report on this." - Rangard.
"But who is they?" - Maebh.
"I wasn't sure. That's what you people were supposed to figure out! That's what I paid you for." - Rangard.
"Well then, tell us what these are." - Harold, handing over the letters and the Shylocke's journal.

Rangard reads the letters first.
"You know the mayor's last name is Redwyn right?" - Rangard, referring to the persona of 'R.'
"No, we didn't!" - Harold, forgetting that they did. "That's why you hired us, because were an unknown quantity."
"... Was it that ****ing hard to find out who the mayor was?" - Rangard, disdainful.
"That's it. Hand over my spellbook. He has until I flick to Fireball." - Ladyhawk.
"In my experience, people who are hired to investigate, usually do some investigation." - Rangard.
"We were busy investigating other things, like the leads you gave us." - Breanna.
"And that worked out well didn't it?" - Rangard, scathing.
There's no answer to that.

Rangard reads the second letter.
"Hmm, I hoped Carhold would not be caught up in this, but he is asking for a meeting at the Harvest Wolf, which is the establishment I asked you to check on in the first place." - Rangard.
"We did, several times." - Tremor.
"And as Meldith informs me, your first attempts were damned useless." - Rangard. "Hmm, actually I don't know if Carhold is actually in on this. He wouldn't respond to any of my messages."
"Well maybe, he lost internet connection." - LD, perfectly weighted and cutting response.
"But he's not used any code in this message at all, no attempts to hide his identity. Maybe he's not involved at all?" - Rangard.

The dispossessed merchant starts to read the black notebook but barely makes it through the first page before tossing it aside and pronouncing it utter drivel.

There is a fair bit of conversation here as they discuss whether Rangard's accusation against them are true. They quickly realise that they really only told Dhara who they were working for. And so now the Southerner is a roundly hated individual by the party, one I am sure they will be itching to get back at.

Back to the story at hand though.

"Do you know of a woman named Dhara?" - Harold.
"No." - Rangard, sitting at the desk with his fingers steepled.
"How about a Chirya?" - Kel'Serrar.
'No, haven't heard of that one either." - Rangard.
"Actually.... I have worked with her at one stage. I hired her to help with the Corpsewalker operation. But I have not seen her since." - Meldith.
"Ah. Well, Kel'Serrar, could you please explain to our friends here why she came to Summer Hill?" - Harold.
"Mainly to accelerate the spread of war in the area. And you know she hates humanity?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Yeah, I have to say that became apparent after seeing some of the malicious pleasure she was taking in inflicting the virus on those bandits." - Meldith.
"Well the way I see it, we have two options here Rangard. We can either sit here bitching about how you have no home, or we can set about the arduous task of actually fixing the problems we have made. Your choice. Or we could just pack up and leave, because I am homesick and just want to get out of this place." - Harold.
"You want to go home, go ahead but I won't be paying your way." - Rangard.
"Right, fine." - Harold, standing up and walking out.

The Invarrian walks to Summer Hill's stable and approaches the stable-hand as the young man sees to the horses.
"What can I do for you my lord?" - Stable-hand.
"I need a horse. How much?" - Harold, in no mood to bandy useless words.
"One hundred sulvers." - Stable-hand.
"One crown for the horse and another for the tack?" - Harold.
"Brilliant, the horse is yours." - Stable-hand.

Tremor passes on what he overheard in the Harvest Wolf.
"If what you've told me about Brewer and Shylocke is true, both of them must die. And as far as the legion is concerned, that's Elspeth's Legion. If they get a clear run at this town, we're screwed." - Rangard.

The party decide that they need to get an early night and head back to the town.

Harold is walking his horse out to the north of Summer Hill when he hears Maebh's voice on the wind asking him to wait. He does so an soon enough, the party has come to farewell him.
"We do have a lead on Brewer and Shylocke. We're hoping to destroy the cult tomorrow." - Maebh, trying to get Harold to stay.
"I must go, but I will be back. You will see me again" - Harold.
And the Invarrian walks his horse down the road, away from the other four companions before disappearing into the gloom.

And we left it there.

The Wrap-Up:
It's so goddamn late here and I am bloody tired so I'll make this short. We will be playing 1.9 tomorrow evening, so I hope I can stay awake for it. We're right on the cusp now.

Stay tuned and I hope you enjoyed. :smallbiggrin:

ReaderAt2046
2013-08-01, 04:48 PM
I take it the "M" of "



Meet me at the eastern gate tonight,
Bring the rest of the party,

M,


is Melisandre?

Phoenixguard09
2013-08-01, 06:34 PM
No it was Meldith, but the group certainly suggested it might have been Dhara. I think Dev in particular wanted her to explain herself. :P

Amidus Drexel
2013-08-01, 07:28 PM
Children.....

On the other hand, it did end up reminding me of a joke. To be warned, children should probably look away now, and it's probably only going to make sense with those familiar with Warhammer.

How many Slaaneshi cultists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
At least two of course, but how they got in there is anyone's guess.

Crass, I know, but everyone thought it was funny on the night.


Heheheheheh, this is hilarious. :smallbiggrin:

Looking forward to more, as always.

Phoenixguard09
2013-09-10, 12:49 PM
I am sorry that it appears that this has been neglected. :smallfrown:

I am however, pleased to inform you that this is not the case. :smallsmile:

We did play Session 1.9 a little while ago and I intend to have it available for reading pretty soon. We also wish to play what will likely be the last session of the story arc on the 20th, a longer break than we would have liked, but there's been several commitments which had to be honoured by various parties. :smallwink:

Rest assured though, this has not been forgotten, nor has it died. I will post the write-up soon.

Cheers, :smallbiggrin:

Scow2
2013-09-10, 03:16 PM
Glad seeing this back! And I somehow missed last month's update!

Phoenixguard09
2013-09-20, 09:51 AM
Well it was played and things happened. :smallsmile:

Stay tuned, for next time we shall see explosions, doors being hacked apart and a lot of death.

Cheers,

Scow2
2013-09-20, 10:23 AM
Well it was played and things happened. :smallsmile:

Stay tuned, for next time we shall see explosions, doors being hacked apart and a lot of death.

Cheers,I hope none of it afflicted Harold or Tremor or anyone fuzzy!

Phoenixguard09
2013-09-21, 06:48 AM
I can assure you that no one fuzzy was harmed in the event. From memory at least. Once again, Breanna outdid herself with acrobatics, scouting and exceptional leg-hacking ability. :smallwink:

In fact, in what turned out to be the culminating chapter in the first story arc, everyone got at least one Crowning Moment of Awesome. Some people got more than one, but you can all read about that soon. :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2013-10-12, 11:12 AM
Okay, now I'm way behind on write-ups but we played again on Friday night. It was a good session which almost set up the next arc. :smalltongue:

Anyway, there are now three write-ups coming for you all to look forward to. My university stuff's almost done for the year so I should have some time coming up to work on it all. :smallsmile:

The first of the three is also nearly done. :smallwink:

Cheers,

To whet your appetite, here's something which we played that was separate from 1.9. Enjoy! :smallbiggrin:


Session 2.5 (a): Harold's Midnight Ride

It is early evening and Harold Oakenshield is riding along the road. His plan is to find the old marcwolf cave the group used as a campsite, hoping that he might find Dhara at some stage. He wants to confront her, something he didn't want to confide in the rest of the party due to what he perceives as their murder-happy tendencies. He wanted to talk to the woman, preferably without killing her.

Failed Perception Check.

One moment, he is riding along the dark, rough road by himself. The next, there is a woman riding beside him.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it's too late Oakeshield." - Dhara.
"I'm guessing you work for the queen of Elspeth." - Harold.
"Indirectly, yes." - Dhara, with a shrug.
"You also work for Shylocke then?" - Harold.
"Well, I don't work for Shylocke. Let's just say we share some motives." - Dhara, thoughtful.
"You say you share motives. What motives would those be?" - Harold, fishing.
"The queen wants us to succeed. Shylocke is an important tool in allowing this to happen." - Dhara.
"As a tool, he can be cast aside." - Harold, pondering, more to himself really.
"Absolutely. As we all are." - Dhara, quietly.
Silence....
"So tell me, who do you work for?" - Harold.
"Ah come now Oakenshield, I can't tell you that." - Dhara with a slight chuckle.
More silence.
"Are you planning to kill me at the end of this conversation?" - Harold, resigned.
"No. I'm planning on having Chirya kill you at the end of this conversation." - Dhara, who then nods to someone standing in the shadow if the nearby treeline.

Three arrows fly out of the darkness, two flashing over his head and one skating off the Invarrian's armoured shoulder. There comes a muffled curse from the darkness but Harold is too busy to notice.

Harold turns his horse and gallops flat out towards the town once more, several arrows thudding into his back as he rides. It isn't until he is in sight of the gatehouse that Harold ceases his horse's exertions, pulling the steed back to a walk.

The Invarrian finds the farmhouse he left in such a rage earlier in the evening, dismounts and knocks on the door. The exasperated young farmer who owns the place opens the door a crack and looks out, recognising the somewhat war torn Invarrian.

"Oh you've returned?" - Farmer.
"Yes. I'm going to have to talk to Meldith again. I just want to kill the people who've been shooting me." - Harold.
"She's not in at the moment." - Farmer, looking like a night-time visit from an irritable bloody Invarrian is just about the last thing he wants to deal with.
"Where is she then?" - Harold.
"No idea. Like she'd tell me?" - Farmer, fear giving way to irritability.
"Right, fair enough. Farewell then." - Harold, swiftly losing interest and walking away.

Harold realises that he is going to have a big day tomorrow. Cults to infiltrate, people to kill and the like. As such he decides that his best bet is to enter the town and find somewhere to stay. He stables his horse and continues to the gates on foot.

As he does so, he is stopped by a guardsman at the gate holding a torch.
"Don't cause any trouble, alright? It's late at night and I want ye' to go straight to bed. I'm only letting ye' in at all because ye' look a right mess and I recognise ye' from when ye' helped fight the fire in the Merchant District." - Guardsman, with a friendly pat on the shoulder. His other hand never leaves his sword hilt, so he's still wary of the Invarrian.
"Actually, I have a quick question if you wouldn't mind. Has the captain of the guard changed recently?" - Harold, thinking about his theory regarding the 'Lord of the Gate' mentioned in Shylocke's notebook.
"No, Royan Settwatch is still the captain of the Summer Hill guard." - Guardsman, amiably.
"How long has he been the captain?" - Harold, fishing.
"Ah, since before I came to the town, I'm from Haystead In The North originally. At least twelve years he's been in charge." - Guardsman.
"I see. Thank you. Have a nice night." - Harold.
"I'm a guardsman, there's no such thing. But no problem friend, but go straight to bed now, ye' hear?" - Guardsman, concerned as he notices that the Invarrian is swaying a bit as he walks.

Harold makes his way to a tavern, taking his very tired marcwolf pup with him. The common room is deserted in the Iron Moon and there is no one behind the bar. He sees that there is no one there and heads back out to the stable to grab his tent. He goes to the wagon and sets up his tent near Breanna's before heading off to sleep, his marcwolf pup crawling out of his backpack and huddling up against his neck.

And we left it there... :smallsmile:

The Wrap-Up:
This one was interesting. I'd given the group instructions to send me what they were going to do the night before their sting operation. Dev doesn't like typing, so he asked me if he could play it out as a mini solo-session, to which I agreed.

Other than Dev, only Sins really gave me any information on what he was going to do, stuff you will likely discover in future write-ups.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-10-13, 10:19 AM
Session 2.6: The Coming Metaphorical Storm

This is how I opened the session:
"Once again welcome to Session One-Point-Whatever-The-Hell-This-Is, and yes you lost The Game. I'm getting in before you bastards."

It is early morning on a cloudy day. It is rather miserable and is only going to get worse as the day wears on. Everyone had rather restless nights, whether just through bad dreams in the case of a few of them, or being shot at in Harold's case.

The plan-
"Crap, we had a plan?" - Dev, probably surprised.
Was to use today to strike against Brewer and Shylocke.
"Because that worked so brilliantly for us last time." - Dev, probably sarcastic.
Now the last any of you saw of your "illustrious" leader-
"Since when have I been illustrious?" - Dev.
Will you shut up! The last you saw of your illustrious leader, he rode off into the sunset, saying he'll be back.
"No he rode off into the sunset saying, "F*** you." - Wings.
"No, I said I'd be back!" - Dev.
"What Wings said is what we chose to remember." - Sins with a laugh.

"We need to come up with a plan." - Ladyhawk.
"We need to find Shylocke and Brewer." - Sins.
"And then take them down." - LD.

They got a little sidetracked again where Ladyhawk accused some of the other players of not contributing to the investigation. Most of her calls were fair, although she was a bit off criticising Sins.
"And you lurk up in your tree, doing...." - Ladyhawk, thinking of a diplomatic way to say, 'nothing.'
"Patching up all the wounds you guys inflict on each other." - Sins, cutting.
"Ha, what wounds?" - Ladyhawk.
"What wounds asks the fireball thrower?"

I had to leave the room for a short period and Dev tried to convince Sins to look up some form of anime pornography on the computer.
"What!? Why would people even like that?" - Ladyhawk.
"Because it's funny."- Dev, not really thinking his answer through.
"WHAT!?"- Practically everyone.
"Sorry PG, I've failed my Sanity Check. I'll just be quietly burbling in the corner if you need me." - Sins, sadly.

The conversation then turned to Harry Potter, somehow.... Ladyhawk suggested that the time-turners could have resolved everything. Dev countered with a "fact" that all time-turners were destroyed. Which begs the question, why not then create a time-turner and then use it to go back in time before the time-turners were destroyed. Dev reckons it would take time to create one, but it's not as if you need time if you have a device that exists solely to make sure you have time.

Ladyhawk asks why all these capable wizards would not go back in time and kill Tom Riddle before he got powerful. Wings tries to get into the conversation, but is informed that to do so would be adding to the mess.
"But the box fixed itself..." - Wings, seemingly troubled.
Cue hilarity.
"The time-turner cabinet, that was destroyed, it, fixed itself in the book." - Wings. I think he may have been a bit confused here.
"Which book? Cause I'll check this when I get home." - Dev.
"B.... A, B.... Yeah, B." - Wings, now just really confused.
"What!?"
"Ah!I meant the movie, you know part A and part B. Yeah, the last book." - Wings, laughing.
"PG, are you crying?" - Ladyhawk, concerned.
"I just, I... Don't.... I'm failing MY Sanity Check!"
"I know it was hit by a spell, it was destroyed and then it fixed itself." - Wings.
"Not only do I not.... Yeah I don't know. I got lost at Book A and Book B."
"Plus it's Part 1 and Part 2 isn't it?" - Dev.
"Yeah but that's too may numbers. Way too confusing. Anyway, now that we've totally destroyed eleven minutes."
"Destroyed? Don't you mean, enjoyed?" - Dev.
"Shoot him now." - Ladyhawk.

Breanna
The small Leathe wakes up in the morning and stretches, patting her marcwolf's head fondly before putting on her belt and getting ready to face the rain to get to the Iron Moon Inn, where she's going to meet the others. As usual, she has slept later than she meant to, but the others are used to her tardiness by now. She is about to head out when she notices the note on the floor of her tent.

The Danann have yet to be fed and know where you are.
Sleep well,

She notices that the paper seems to be the same as that used by Tremor in his work, swiftly realises that this is either Kel'Serrar or Maebh messing with her, laughs and walks out.
"I have a feeling I am going to die today. Whether that's die and get eaten or get eaten and then..." - LD, smiling as she realises what she's saying.
"And then die? No, that doesn't seem like a logical cause and effect at all!" - Wings.

Earlier that morning
Tremor
Tremor Ironfist awakens in the morning to discover that his paper and writing implements have mysteriously vanished.
"You bastard, you stole my paper!" - Wings to Sins, who was cracking up.

Maebh sends a message out to the whole party, including Harold, hoping that her message might encourage him to come back.

Meet me at the fountain. - Maebh's Whisper.

Everyone meets up, braving the rain. To their surprise, Harold arrives too. Also to their surprise, he's dealing with some arrow injuries. He's bandaged, wet and mangled.

It was fairly evident that Ladyhawk had watched Harry Potter recently after informing us that she viewed the Whisper as sounding like Parseltongue and that she wanted to check the fountain for something similar to the Chamber of Secrets. To encourage her investigative nature, I rewarded this.

Maebh finds that there is a loose brick at the base of the fountain, covering a cavity. Inside the cavity is a small box. It is locked.

"Break it open!" - Wings.
"Can I break it open?" - Ladyhawk.
"Yes."
"Wait, cause I'm an Engineer, can I pick locks?" - Wings.
"She can." - Pointing at LD.
"Yeah but I might break my wrist. I need insurance!" - LD.
There is a fair bit of laughter before....
"Okay, I've taken Lockpicking and I have a +10% on it. Dexterity right?" - LD.
And so the youngest player demonstrated a greater understanding of the system than most of the others. And I was very proud.

Breanna gets the box open with her dagger and inside is twenty sulvers. She and Maebh dole them out, four each, including Harold.

"Now we need a plan. I think we need to, despite all my better judgement, split the party. Now some of us should go to Shylocke's house and see if we can find anything more. If we can't burn it down and try to draw him out into the open where we can kill him." - Kel'Serrar.
"Kill him? Really?" - Tremor, questioning.
"I call for an immediate change in leadership. " - Dev.
"I also think some of us should go to the mayor. If he's in not in on it, it's going to be really hard to slip this by him without his consent. Luckily we have some willing volunteers just here." - Kel'Serrar, referring to Tremor, Harold and Breanna.
"Wait a minute, I didn't volunteer for-" - Tremor, indignant.
"Yes you did. You did if I say you did." - Maebh, acting as Kel'Serrar's lieutenant in his hostile takeover as captain of this merry band.
"You have been volun-told. Do as I say." - Kel'Serrar, willing to brook no argument.

Having determined that Kel'Serrar and Maebh are heading to Shylocke's house and that Breanna, Harold and Tremor are going to the Grand Hall to meet with the mayor, they go their separate ways.

Harold, Tremor & Breanna
Having climbed the stairs to the entrance to the Grand Hall, the trio is stopped by the Captain, Royan Settwatch.
“Wow, what happened to you?” – Royan Settwatch to Harold.
“Let’s just say a bad run in with a Danann with a bow.” – Harold, putting it somewhat lightly.
“Haha, right.” – Royan, deciding it’s better not to enquire too deeply. “So, what can I do for you friend?”
“Is the mayor busy today?” – Harold, trying to make an appointment and failing.
“I can’t tell you of the mayor’s schedule today, for I do not know. He wouldn’t tell me anyway. But I can organise an appointment with him and he can work it out.” – Royan.

“So what are you three doing?”
“Sneak around him and kill him.” – Wings.
“Hey, come on! I like this guy!” – Dev.
“Oh okay, we do it the polite way. Knock him out!” – Wings, evilly.
“Since when has knocking people out been the polite way?” – Dev.
“Since he smashed through that door and the people behind it.” - LD.
"I can actually see now why people find this entertaining to read." - Ladyhawk.
"Yeah, but now we've wasted an hour." - LD.
"WASTED!?" - Dev, scandalised.
"Yeah, it's already half-past eight."
"So yep, wasted." - LD.
"Anyway, let's see how I can use the environment to my advantage. What can I throw him into?" - Wings, evilly.
"No, I'll just make an appointment." - Dev.

Would you believe that we got sidetracked about violently dealing with telemarketers, how feminism is "stupid," tapping empty glasses with a pencil to make music and how pushing someone down a flight of stairs does not constitute murder as there is no guarantee they will be alive when they hit the bottom?

No I wouldn't believe it either if it didn't happen to me. Would you also believe that this sidetrack actually took up over half an hour after it was already pointed out how much time had been wasted?

Good. It's not just me.

"If he's busy we'll come back later." - Harold, turning to go.
"If you say so, but I doubt he's that busy." - Royan, shrugging.
"Actually, do you think you could slip us in somewhere?" - Tremor.
"I can find out for you." - Royan, beckoning up a page.

He sends the page off with some quiet instructions and then continues to talk to the three of them, unconsciously steering clear of the somewhat off-putting Leathe. They inform him that they want to see the mayor to come to an arrangement, but remain pretty ambiguous on what that arrangement actually is.

Kel'Serrar & Maebh
The two of them head to Shylocke's abandoned house. The windows are boarded up and there is a bar nailed across the dwarf-shaped hole in the wall. They slip under the bar blocking the doorway. The place is unlit, there are sparse cobwebs in the ceilings and there are bloodstains on the walls, though the corpse has been removed.

Maebh goes to the library and opens up the secret room using the torch bracketed into the wall. In the secret room, the eye is drawn first to the large, unornamented round wooden table in the centre of the room which is surrounded by ten chairs. Following that, they notice again that the walls are lined with bookshelves. Apart from the table, chairs, books and a small writing desk over in the far corner, the room is practically empty. It also appears that the room has not been touched since they were last here.

Maebh calls up a small flame in her right hand to give the two of them some light and they both head over to the writing desk. There is a quill, some blank sheets of parchment and a dry inkwell. Maebh starts sifting through the parchment, trying to see if there are any magical traces left upon them, but she is disappointed to find there are none. Kel'Serrar walks to the round table in the centre of the room and studies it. At first it appears to be unornamented, but after some careful looking he deduces that there is a thin ring carved into the upper surface. The carving appears to be set no more than an inch from the edge of the table and seems to be a perfect circle. Beyond that, there seems to be nothing special about the table, save that it seems to be bolted onto the stone floor. Maebh looks very closely at the table and blue light passes over her eyes. To her magical vision she can sense that the table has been used in a daemonic binding ritual in the past. The groove possibly held blood during this ritual.

The group considers setting it off or destroying it, starting out with Dev telling Wings to put an axe into the groove despite the fact that neither Harold nor Tremor are in the immediate vicinity.
"Hey, I want you to go meddle in the affairs which you know nothing about and I know nothing about either."

Eventually they come to a decision...

"Maebh, you might want to back away in case this turns out to be more stupid than even I think this is..." - Kel'Serrar, ominously drawing his belt knife.
Maebh immediately turns and walks out of the room.
The ranger on the other hand takes his knife and plunges it into the surface of the table, over and over again, concentrating mainly on the carved groove. The table.....
Does nothing.

It has not reacted in any way, shape or form. Kel'Serrar sheathes his knife with something approaching disappointment. Maebh walks back in and presses her fire-filled hand onto the surface of the table. The light in the room diminishes and the mage finds herself having to feed more power into the spell to keep the flames alight as she smothers the flame into the table. The wood begins to heat up and she can feel that it would not take too long to actually set it on fire. But there is not a magical reaction.

Breanna, Harold & Tremor
The page runs back out and addresses the group directly.
"The mayor will not see you right now." - Page.
"I will make sure that Mayor Redwyn knows you want to see him, but for now there is nothing I can do." - Royan Settwatch, apologetic.
"I have very important news. There is a legion of Elspeth on the way." - Tremor, playing a trump card.
"We know this because we saw them last time we were out of the city." - Harold, lying through his teeth.
He takes a Deception Check here, with a small bonus as Settwatch is favourably inclined towards the Invarrian. He succeeds easily.
"That is worrying. Why didn't you say so earlier? I must tell the mayor immediately." - Royan, who runs inside himself, not deigning to use the page this time. This news is far too important for that. He runs up to the door, opens it and then turns back to the three companions.
"Are you coming or not?" - Royan, holding the door open. After all, as far as he is concerned, they've seen this legion, so they're going to have to give the information.
The three of them sprint up the stairs. They have their audience.

Kel'Serrar & Maebh
Kel'Serrar runs upstairs, realising that they are on a time limit. After all, they have no idea how much time they have before the cult is enacting their plan. The ranger searches Shylocke's room, completely ransacking it. It has not been disturbed since last they were here and Harold's crap has therefore become putrid. The bed has been literally torn apart. Sadly, Kel'Serrar finds nothing immediately incriminating, but the search was a long shot anyway.

Maebh meanwhile picks a book at random, sits on the writing desk and closes her eyes, willing herself to really focus on it.
Successful Channelling Check, although only thanks to the bonus granted by the Focus Stone.
Maebh's eyes begin to glow, the pale blue light leaking from under her closed eyelids. A small tempest builds up around her, rippling her hair and garments, yet not disrupting anything else in the room. She feels the power welling up within her until, like a glass filled to overflowing with water, she loses her grasp on the magic. With a keening shriek, the light gutters out and her eyes snap open. She has a splitting headache, but the book lies open upon her lap. She has broken the lock. She finds that the book seems to be a list of rituals, each of them on the topic of binding daemonic entities.

Wings asks if Maebh could write down these rituals to give to Breanna and it is pointed out that Kel'Serrar grabbed the parchment over in the corner and the inkwell was dry anyway. The conversation then turned to how Kel'Serrar had stolen Tremor's writing implements the night before. Of course this means that the players had to start using their own writing implements as chopsticks. I include all this simply because it amused me.
"He who can catch fly with chopsticks can do anything." - Dev.
"He who walk through airport sliding door sideways is going to Bangkok."
Sometimes I make myself laugh. Other times, I drive myself to tears.
Back to the game.

Maebh studies the book, flipping through it and reading the forward. She quickly comes to the conclusion that the book is a record of successful daemonic bindings. The mage closes the book and tosses it into her backpack and heads out of the room, looking for Kel'Serrar. She approaches the threshold warily, but the fire does not block her path. It seems that in breaking the lock, the book no longer sets off the spell.

Kel'Serrar meanwhile continues his searching of the room, turns around and comes face to face with the Trickster, who is lounging against a wall, smiling sardonically.
"Hello. Welcome my friend." - The Trickster.
"You're quiet." - Kel'Serrar.
"Thank you. I pride myself on my ability to approach unseen and unheard." - The Trickster.
"I hope I'm not destroying anything too important here." - Kel'Serrar, somewhat sarcastically.
"Of course not. Feel free. I do not need this place anymore." - The Trickster.
"You sure?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Absolutely." - The Trickster.
The confirmation that the Trickster is Shylocke, or at least that's how the players took it.
"I'm going to hazard a guess and say that if I shoot you, the arrow will just go straight through you as you're not really here, are you?" - Kel'Serrar.
"And you are correct. You really are quite astute aren't you?" - The Trickster with a small nod and a somewhat gracious smile.
"If I were, I probably would not have joined this venture in the first place." - Kel'Serrar.
"That is probably true, sadly. You may just have enough time to leave this place without any repercussions falling upon you." - The Trickster.
"Interesting. How long will you give me?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Two minutes." - The Trickster.
"And you won't mind if I 'accidentally' break a few doors on the way out?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Not in the slightest." - The Trickster, still smiling sardonically.
"Then I will take my leave." - Kel'Serrar, who strides out of the room.

Maebh leaves the hidden room to see Kel'Serrar walking swiftly down the stairs and towards the front door.
"I wouldn't just stand there if I were you." - Kel'Serrar.
"I heard voices." - Maebh, still standing in place.
"We're not alone in here. If you would like an interesting conversation, head into the top room, but I wouldn't be here in a few minutes if I were you." - Kel'Serrar.
Maebh runs upstairs but finds it empty. She looks around, but finds nothing. Kel'Serrar meanwhile is waiting for her outside on the road. She trails a flaming hand over anything flammable, and exits the now burning building.

"We didn't start the fire..." - Dev, singing the Billy Joel song.
"Except this fire, we did."

And with that note, I leave it here. But just for now, I'll be back shortly. :smallwink:

And here it is, the next part. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16209210&postcount=86) :smallwink:

Phoenixguard09
2013-10-13, 10:22 AM
I hope you all believed me. :smallsmile: And now back to it.

Breanna, Tremor & Harold
Having been led to the mayor's office by Settwatch, the companions find themselves facing a rather heavy-set middle-aged man in opulent dark red clothing. He is not obese, but relatively portly, with shoulder length dark hair and a straggly beard.

Borous Redwyn looks up from his desk from where he is writing something.
"What is it Settwatch?" - Mayor Redwyn, covering whatever he was writing with another sheet of parchment.
"We have a report that Elspeth is moving on the town. These three here have seen the legion." - Royan Settwatch, wasting no time and indicating all three companions.
Redwyn's eyes widen slightly and he frowns at the suggestion.
"Can you tell the mayor what you saw?" - Royan, turning to Harold.
"Okay, well we saw a military camp, just a short distance from the town with Elspeth flags flying above." - Harold.
"I don't believe that you're telling the whole truth there. I can't see why they would be coming for us. There's no danger." - Redwyn, shaking his head and frowning.
"I am just relaying what I have seen." - Harold, holding his hands out and appearing apologetic.
"Would you be an agent from another kingdom, trying to foster ill will between Summer Hill and Elspeth?" - Redwyn, accusingly.
"I'm an Invarrian, from the Isle of Varr! Why would I..." - Harold, flustered.
"Why would we want to **** with your relationships? We could sit here all day at this rate." - Tremor, taking up where Harold left off.

Breanna reasons to herself that Redwyn is trying to discredit them in front of Settwatch, who everyone realises is the one with the real power here. If Redwyn wants them out of the way, he needs to convince Settwatch that they are in the wrong.

Thankfully, Harold is pretty lucky and Settwatch seems to like him. In addition to that the captain is a relatively intelligent man and can see that the companions have a point. Why would an Invarrian care about this?

"Well if anything, surely we could take the precaution of putting the guard on high alert? If we're wrong , we're wrong. But if we're right, then everyone remains safe." - Harold.
"I don't see why we should put the guard on alert today. After all today is not a nice day, look at it. It's raining outside. The guardsmen have lives beyond being guards. They are militia. If we draw them all up today and then nothing happens, that will have been a complete waste of their time, not to mention the losses in profits." - Redwyn.
"But if it does happen today, then Summer Hill would be unprotected and vulnerable." - Breanna.
"It will not happen today. The Legions of Elspeth are not marching on Summer Hill and will not be doing so in the foreseeable future." - Redwyn, getting somewhat angry.
"How do you know, Mr Know-It-All?" - Breanna, under her breath.
"If it does happen today and the guard are not sent out, Summer Hill will be destroyed." - Harold.
"As I said to the tree girl, they will not be attacking Summer Hill in the foreseeable future. Now I am a busy man. Stop wasting my time with this." - Redwyn.
"Are you willing to bet your life on this?" - Tremor.
"Absolutely. Settwatch, please escort these people out of my office immediately." - Redwyn.
Royan Settwatch opens the doors and makes a gesture towards the companions to leave. They do so.

"Captain, would you mind speaking with me outside?" - Harold, to Royan.
"Absolutely Sir Oakenshield, I would be glad to." - Royan, holding the door open as they troop out.
Tremor purposely trips on the doorway and stumbles forward, critically drawing Settwatch's attention. As the captain helps the gruffly apologetic Dwergar to his feet once more, Breanna ducks into the corner and quickly casts Shadowskin, shrouding herself in darkness and making herself as inconspicuous as possible, provided she sticks to the shadows. Before Settwatch closes the door, the Leathe ducks inside, silently rolling across the floor and into the corner of the room. The door closes behind her, locking her in the room with her target, alone save for her knives.

"Kill him, kill him, kill him, kill him!" - Wings and Dev, chanting their encouragement. It got near to the chanting in the Fellowship of the Ring when they are running away from the Balrog.

"So, Sir Oakenshield, what was it you wished to speak to me about?" - Royan, inquisitive.
"You and I are both men of action and we both know that politicians can be slow to action. In a time of crisis, precautionary measures are always wise. Perhaps not drawing up the militia, but at least send some scouts. I would prefer to be proven wrong than be proven right by our deaths." - Harold, putting his hand on Settwatch's shoulder.
"Sending out scouts would be very easy to do. And while the mayor did not seem to be too concerned about the situation, rest assured I am. I will send out scouts forthwith." - Royan, nodding his thanks.

Maebh & Kel'Serrar
Having exited the building they both notice a figure lounging against the wall of the house opposite Shylocke's dwelling.
"Oh, you came out a lot quicker than I expected." - The Trickster, smiling.
"I reach my deadlines." - Kel'Serrar.
"I see we have met again." - The Trickster, to Maebh.
The mage doesn't deign to respond. For now she lets the thin trail of smoke wafting out of the house speak for her.
"So, what have you found?" - The Trickster, for all the world seeming helpful and smiling somewhat sardonically.
"Perhaps you would be better suited to tell us than the other way around. After all, you know the house better, don't you?" - Kel'Serrar, taking a stab at the Trickster's identity.
"Well played. You know who I am?" - The Trickster, chuckling quietly.
"It's obvious. Evident really." - Kel'Serrar.
"I see. Evident? No matter. It's true, I did used to live here. It was nice." - The Trickster, quietly, almost reminiscent. He smiles, in a somewhat kindly manner. "I told you that you could leave the house without repercussions. I am extending that to the town as a whole. Please, leave now and be happy. If you stay, I cannot guarantee your safety."
"Why do you want us to leave? What will we be in danger from?" - Maebh.
"You will likely not survive the coming storm." - The Trickster, only answering Maebh's second question, a fact that seemed lost on the pair of Danann.
"Too bad now that my curiosity has been roused." - Kel'Serrar with a shrug.
"I tell you now, take this offer and you will survive the storm." - The Trickster, still looking like he only wants to help.
"Is it a proper storm or one you're creating?" - Maebh, inquisitive.
The Trickster just stares at her.
"Why, what's in the storm?" - Maebh, interrogating.
"Thunder and lightning, like all storms." - The Trickster, ambiguous.
"I can do that. I thought you were supposed to be impressive. Is there going to be a tornado too? How do you know this? Can you control the weather?" - Maebh, dismissive.
It is evident that this incessant questioning is annoying him, cracking through the normally calm exterior.
"It was a metaphor!" - The Trickster.
"Then I ask again, what's going to happen? If there's no thunder and lightning then it is not a real storm." - Maebh, seeing that in his anger he might make an uncharacteristic mistake.
"It is not a literal storm-" - The Trickster, cut off.
"Then what is it?" - Maebh.
"It is a metaphorical storm." - The Trickster, with some heat.

"Obviously I'm trying to get under his skin. Is it working?" - Ladyhawk.
"It's working on me." - Sins.

The Trickster pointedly turns away from the mage and looks steadily at Kel'Serrar. Not to be cast aside like this, Maebh steps across in front of the ranger with a sardonic smile. The Trickster shakes his head in amusement.
"Anyway, I'm far too interested in your plans to just leave now." - Kel'Serrar.
"The plans are not mine, but my master's." - The Trickster.
"Ooh, who's your master?" - Maebh, still trying to get the Trickster to look at her.
She is ignored.
"That just makes it all the more interesting I'm afraid." - Kel'Serrar, falsely apologetic.
"This is the last chance you will receive. Leave now." - The Trickster, losing patience.
"Sorry, I've survived worse I'm sure." - Kel'Serrar.
"I'm not leaving either." - Maebh.
"I'm saddened by this. We may not meet again. For what it's worth, being as we are on separate sides of this conflict, I wish the best of luck." - The Trickster with a sad nod.
"I'd wish you the same luck but judging by how you have performed so far, I do not think you would need it." - Kel'Serrar.
"If we do meet again, I may have no choice but to kill you. I am very grateful to my master, and he wants you dead. Believe this, I am not a bad man. I just wanted the power to make a difference in the world and sadly this storm is how I must repay my debts to a great man. Farewell." - The Trickster.
He nods and disappears.

Breanna
Redwyn has begun to write his note again now that his visitors have left him. Intrigued, Breanna creeps over behind him to read over his shoulder.

Redwyn's note.

I have been told you need help.

R,

She is standing behind him, preparing to strike when a side door opens and in walks a woman. She is tall and her features have a somewhat familiar cast to them. The Leathe realises that this Southland woman has very similar facial features to Dhara, the woman they encountered out on the road. Save her clearly greater age, they could be sisters, though this woman is at least twenty years older than the woman in red they captured before.
"Borous, get up!" - Woman, commanding.
The mayor immediately jumps to his feet, almost standing at attention.
"Who were those people who were here?" - Woman.
"Uh, I think they were working against the cult." - Borous Redwyn, clearly about to speak some more.
This is before she delivers a thunderous backhand across his face.
"You idiot! What did you tell them?" - Woman.
"Nothing! They knew about the Legion. I tried to get them to back off." - Borous, whining.
She slaps him again, a solid forehand this time.
"Did you give away that they are coming?" - Woman.
"No, I denied their very existence. I made sure that they had no reason to be suspicious at all." - Borous.
If he hoped that by doing so he would make her happy, he is sadly mistaken. She slaps him again.
"You idiot! How vehement were you in denying their presence?" - Woman.
"As much as I needed to be! They were utterly convinced they were coming. The Invarrian even claimed he had seen them on their way!" - Borous.
"You idiot!" - Woman, slapping him again. "How can he have? They haven't even moved out of the Eaglefort yet!"

Redwyn looks absolutely devastated, almost on the verge of tears. Over the years of their marriage, the Lady Sarya Silverwood has terrorised her husband, to the point that at any time he feels he may have failed her, he immediately worries that she will bash the living **** out of him. Because she does so on a regular basis. She wears many heavy rings, and each crashing strike she has inflicted has broken the skin. The mayor is bleeding from various lacerations to his face and is going to be sporting some serious bruising.

"I will have to get word to the Queen immediately. You disgust me." - Sarya Silverwood, with one last backhand, this one almost half-hearted before walking out the main door.
Redwyn sits down behind his desk once more, wipes the blood off his cheeks with a handkerchief and then breaks down into tears.
Breanna resolves that he has felt enough pain today and slides the knife into the side of his throat and withdraws it. She then takes the various bits of parchment from the desk and stuffs them in her belt pouch, thinking to save them for reading or even further use later. There might be clues to be read and if not, at least she can use them to draw her adventures for later publication.

This is a blatant hint to LD to get off her ass and draw/paint me pictures.

In the drawers of the desk the Leathe finds many letters and a small pouch of coin, all of which she pockets. Following that, she then makes her way out the side door after the now deceased mayor's wife.

Tremor & Harold
The Dwergar and Invarrian follow Captain Settwatch outside and pick up their weapons.
"Be ready for a fight. It's coming." - Tremor, while shoving his axe through his belt.
"From where?" - Settwatch, looking troubled.
"It's just a feeling. But it will happen." - Tremor, grim.
"Hey, where's the Leathe?" - Settwatch, looking around.
"I don't know. She must have already left, her weapons aren't here." - Harold, hoping that Settwatch wouldn't have noticed that she never left her daggers outside at all.
The captain looks troubled but he trusts the Invarrian and lets it slide.

Two scouts have been sent out to find this Legion. Off the record of course.

Kel'Serrar & Maebh
Kel'Serrar begins scanning the town to find a good defensible position to hold when the Legion arrives. Maebh thinks about attempting to find Dhara, but comes to the conclusion that she's probably made herself far too difficult to find and they are on a time limit.

Kel'Serrar figures the Grand Hall is probably the most defensible spot, and decides that his best bet would be to go check it out. He arrives with Maebh in tow to find Tremor and Harold just about to leave.

Breanna
The Leathe continues to follow the late mayor's wife through the Grand Hall, remaining completely concealed as she does so, past the occasional servant. Eventually the woman leaves the building and goes outside, walking down the street. Unfortunately, inside the building, it's hard to notice the shadow-swathed assassin, but outside she would be noticeable on the streets. On the other hand, if she can just get onto the rooftops, she should be free. Tearing down the street, hell for leather, she takes a running jump and clambers up the wall, with only a little difficulty, hoping that anyone who noticed her wouldn't raise a cry.

Once up on the rooves she can move swiftly and with little fear of discovery. She sees that the mayor's wife has been joined by a squad of ten men in leather jerkins with black surcoats, bearing round shields adorned with the sigil of a single white arrow. They walk out the main gate, enter the stables and mount up. All the while, the diminutive figure of a shade-cloaked Leathe watches them from atop Summer Hill's outer wall.

The mounted party heads down the eastern road. Breanna slides down the outer wall and follows them on foot, though soon realises that she's going to lag too far behind and her erstwhile companions will likely need her today. She quickly turns back and walks back through the gate, nodding companionably at the guards.

Harold, Tremor, Kel'Serrar & Maebh
They wait while Tremor uses the guardsmen's chamber pot and once he comes out, they discuss with him what their next plan is while walking back down the stairs and into the city proper.

It is almost midday when the companions stop at the wagon, assuming that Breanna will go there to rendezvous with them. While doing so Kel'Serrar informs the rest of his and Maebh's run in with the Trickster and Harold informs those two of how the mayor is most likely connected to the cult in some way. And then how he sent the Leathe in to eliminate him.

They discuss the Trickster's identity, and generally they figure Shylocke would be the Trickster. Maebh also sends a Whisper to Breanna.
"I have a book for you. We're at the wagon." Maebh's Whispering Wind, in a taunting manner.

It is only a short time before Breanna reappears at the cart. She stops to fondle her marcwolf pup before informing the rest of the group of her actions.
"The mayor, Redwyn is now dead and his wife's a bitch. He's not Redwyn now, he's Deadwyn. The wife looked eerily similar to Dhara." - Breanna, trying to get through it all as quickly as possible.
"Oh, speaking of Dhara, she nearly killed me last night. She's mates with Chirya now, hence my arrow-wounds." - Harold, interrupting.
"As I was saying, the wife's now in charge of Summer Hill, and I might add, insane. She's just left the town with a squad of what I reckon are her personal guards." - Breanna.
"What livery?" - Kel'Serrar, intrigued.
"Black field with a silver arrow." - Breanna, reciting it off the top of her head.
No one's familiar with the sigil, but they all agree that the assumption that they are her personal guard is a good one.
"Anyway, I followed her as far as the east road. I also have the note he was writing when we barged in on him." - Breanna, nodding to Tremor and Harold and producing the note.
They notice immediately that the note is written in the same handwriting as their earlier note which was also signed by the mysterious R.

The companions troop off to the White Stallion Inn. On the way Tremor theorises that the centre of the town may have some significance. Interestingly enough the Merchant's District is just about in the centre of the town. And both Rangard's and Shylocke's houses were in that same district. Very convenient.

On the way Breanna is quizzed about the nature of daemonic summoning, asked about what sort of stuff they should be looking for. She answers that summoning circles can be constructed of many different materials but metals are most common, particularly valuable metals like gold.

Once inside the Inn, they order meals and Maebh hands the book over to the Leathe assassin. Breanna takes it with some glee and quickly realises that she can use this information.

In game terms, the book grants her bonuses to her Willpower for the purpose of summoning daemons, justified by being able to read what went wrong in the cult's own attempts. Being forewarned is forearmed and all that. On top of this, in a story sense, she may read through it to gain a better idea of what sort of daemon summoning has been attempted and what has succeeded, therefore giving a better idea of what they might face.

"Basically, what you grabbed was their record book." - To Ladyhawk.
Dev drops a fifty cent coin he was fidgeting with.
"And the penny dropped." - It was a lot funnier at the time. I got high-fives and everything.

"As far as I'm concerned, the Grand Hall or the very centre of the town are the most likely locations. Hmm, maybe the warehouses.... Look at that, they're close to the centre and the nearest section is the slums..." - Harold, looking at a map of the town which Tremor has fished out of his pack.

Reading her book, Breanna notices that most of the summonings are being conducted within Shylocke's house. However, at the end of the book she reads a note which says that other research is being conducted in other locations. They can't split the party. And it's crunch time.

They decide on their next target, the warehouses, hoping that they're not wrong. If they are, they're going to be too late. If they are too late, at least the warehouses might provide some places to hide.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up
I do wish I had done this earlier so that I could remember the session a bit better. I do remember approaching the session at the time as if it were going to be the end of the arc, but it didn't happen. We ended up playing the end of the arc over two sessions, but it all turned out well.

I hope everyone's continuing to enjoy this. :smallsmile:

Anyway, stay tuned for they're about to properly reap the whirlwind....

Ladyhawke
2013-11-01, 10:43 PM
I'm glad you guys like it :D We are hopefully going to play another session soon. :smallsmile:

Amidus Drexel
2013-11-02, 02:41 PM
Yeah, you guys' sessions are brilliant. I love reading these write-ups. :smallbiggrin:

Scow2
2013-11-02, 05:08 PM
I hope so too! Love reading this campaign journal - especially the antics of Tremor and Harold.

Phoenixguard09
2013-11-10, 08:28 PM
I have to say thanks to everyone who reads this. Your enjoyment means a lot to all of us. :smallsmile:

I'm just wrapping up the next session to be put up now. I'm really hoping to have it available to read this afternoon.

Then I only have one to write up before the 29th, which is looking like our next session date due to exams, family stuff and LD's ballet.

Anyway, cheers for now. Hopefully I'll be back soon. :smallbiggrin:

Scow2
2013-11-10, 09:13 PM
I Must Read More About The Exploits Of Harold The Awesome!

Phoenixguard09
2013-11-11, 12:24 AM
I hope Dev reads that comment. :smalltongue:


Session 2.7: The End of the Line

"Welcome to Session 1.10, and yes I realise that is some bizarre numbering, but I couldn't care less."
I later fixed the numbering of the earlier sessions so that we didn't get weird session numbers like that. :smalltongue:

The companions quickly suit themselves up. By now Tremor and Harold both have some substantial armour and Harold in particular can resemble a walking armoury. They're going to take this cult on. No more hiding in the shadows, no more subtlety. This time, the ****'s going to hit the fan.

The storm is approaching, the clouds dark and ominous. The rain is getting heavier and the distant thunder is gradually getting closer. It will be an ugly night.

The party splits into two groups, hoping that they might be a little less conspicuous. Tremor and Breanna can sort of blend in a little as there are other Leathe and dwarves in the town, but Harold, Maebh and Kel'Serrar are far more noticeable. Tremor and Breanna head off together while Maebh, Kel'Serrar and Harold stick together as well. Before they head off, Tremor asks Harold for a better weapon than his own hatchet and hammer combo. The Invarrian thinks about this and then unbuckles one of his belts, handing over his longsword to the Dwergar, who takes a moment to reconfigure the suspension system and slings it over his back.

Tremor also picks up a loud whistle from a vendor on the way, thinking it could only be a good idea.

The two groups arrive to find that the warehouses are arranged in five rows of five. The first four rows appear to be relatively old constructions, weathered, with dirty windows and rough woodwork. The hindmost row however appears to be of a considerably newer make, showing less signs of wear.

Harold considers setting the whole thing on fire, but they throw that plan aside quickly. Maebh notices that the two closest ones on the corners are dilapidated and abandoned. In fact judging by the accumulated dust, only the central warehouse in the first row has been used in the last few weeks.

There is precisely as much thought given to Tremor running through each column of warehouses, blasting each wall apart as he goes, as you might expect after his theatrics on Shylocke's door. It was seriously considered, which, to be honest, doesn't say much for the IQ of anyone involved.

"I think we should be checking inside the most recently used ones." - Harold, stroking his canine chin.
Each warehouse is made of wooden planks, the doors about two inches think with a heavy lock. The side walls have high windows that are designed to allow light into the structure during the daylight hours. On the other hand, it might be able to admit Breanna if she climbs up on Harold's shoulders to get up there.

The companions walk around to the right hand side of the central warehouse of the front row and Harold heaves Breanna up. As he does, she grabs hold of the window sill and pulls herself over the edge before dropping to the floor in a neat crouch.

Unusually for a warehouse, this structure is almost empty. In the front corner of the room there is a desk with a piece of parchment on it, but in the sparse light and at this distance, she cannot see what is on it. In the centre of the room there is also a small construction. It appears to be a small golden bowl upon on a three legged silver stand. The bowl contains a dark substance, but the Leathe cannot make it out.

First she approaches the desk and looks at the piece of parchment, finding it is a map. The map shows Summer Hill, though it appears to be different from the map that she is familiar with, namely the one Tremor produced when asked. According to this map, Summer Hill has actually shrunk in size. Crucially, this makes the warehouses almost squarely in the centre of what did make up the entirety of Summer Hill's boundaries.

This is very interesting here, because while this may look like a case of GM fiat to get this arc over and done with, it was not really. The fact that Summer Hill is smaller now than it used to be was something I came up with quite early, though the players never thought to enquire about that when they were discussing potential places for a summoning ritual to be held at. As they never considered that the town might have shrunk, I felt that was something I shouldn't point out as a possibility as that might have just given it away. In hindsight, they were getting frustrated so maybe that was something I should have managed to drop somehow a fair bit earlier.

In all I think I might be most frustrated by how I played Rangard. I wanted him to be an ambiguous character that would turn out to be a relatively powerful and interesting ally in terms of his connections and money rather than any real personal power. Sadly, I got annoyed that none of the players were particularly thorough with the investigative side of things, and they got annoyed that things weren't clear-cut and straightforward. Their first impression of Rangard was that he could not be trusted, and while that is true to a certain extent, he was intended to be an ally.

Anyway, I guess it's true that you can't guess in advance which characters your players will like and which ones they hate, though admittedly I found it bemusing that they did end up hating Rangard more than their various nemeses.

Moving on from that rant, and on to the previous one, the fiat did not come in with regards to the size of Summer Hill and the location of the ritual. That was set right from the start. In fact, the only fiat involved here was that I intended to make sure that the map was found regardless of which warehouse was entered first so that they knew they were on track. And that was just so that we wouldn't waste another session on relatively pointless exposition. Again.

Back to the story and thanks for reading my rant/s.

Beside the map is a small key. Breanna snatches both and stuffs them in her beltpouch before taking a closer look at the golden bowl. As she walks close enough to recognise the contents of the bowl, she stops, within a step of walking into the magical field around the contraption. Breathing slightly quicker now, Breanna realises that the field is likely an alarm or maybe a ward that could hurt someone who gets too close and decides that she is magically out of her depth here. She cautiously backs away and approaches the front door.

"I'm going to slide a key out for you to try on the lock okay?" - Breanna, fumbling to get the key out of her belt-pouch.
"Don't bother." - Harold, who along with Tremor hack at the doorway with their axes until they stand inside.
"Hmm, it seems we have a key. Let's draw attention to ourselves by hacking our way in!" - Ladyhawk, shaking her head and laughing bitterly with LD.
"Maebh, I think you need to look at this." - Breanna, pointing at the contraption.
The Danann mage walks over to the bowl and quickly snaps the control over the ward. It's a pretty slapdash job so takes her very little time.
Breanna grabs the bowl as soon as Maebh gives her the nod and studies it for any clues. She realises quickly that the blood is intended as an offering for a very, very powerful daemon. The Leathe figures that frozen blood would be an appropriate offering a daemon with a particular affinity for cold, leading her to believe that this is something to do with the Lord of Winter. She also knows that there must be more of these offerings around, intended to lure the daemon into the town and then trap it. Just dealing with one or two of these offerings will not stop the summoning, only leave a "gate" for the daemon to escape and wreak havoc. They must either destroy all the offerings before the summoning begins or leave them intact until the summoning has commenced and then banish the daemon before it is unleashed.
They study the map and then have a short conversation about how to approach it.

Somewhere along the line it was revealed that only a few warehouses had been used. When shown the map, a diamond shape was apparent in the bird's eye view with the very centre of the diamond being the central warehouse itself. It was swiftly decided the recently used warehouses must have had focusing devices such as the one they have found, and the central one is where the summoning is actually being performed. This was mainly delivered through Black Magic Knowledge Checks from Breanna, though the recording is hard to make out here, hence this OOC spoiler. Just thought I would explain this diamond business to the readers before the players start flipping their **** about it.

"Can we shift this diamond to outside the town? And then have Breanna hijack the spell?" - Tremor, stroking his beard and ignoring the unspoken rule regarding Breanna's magic.
"I don't think it works like that." - Breanna, quietly.
"Us moving the diamond is no guarantee that the daemon will show up out there when it's summoned. The diamond's just to trap it right?" - Harold, correct in a way, and yet incorrect in another.
"The diamond's here to attract it too. If we shift it, it might not show up at all." - Breanna.
"But if we shift it and it does show up, it's now in the middle of the town and uncontrolled." - Maebh, grim.
"Anyway Tremor, even if we did shift the diamond, I don't think our Leathe would be able to do anything about it. As my people say, one person on a mhor's back may direct it. One flea on a mhor's back does nothing." - Kel'Serrar, chiming in.
If you're interested, a mhor is something like a small indricothere. Sins actually said elephant, but Kel'Serrar wouldn't know what an elephant is, so I'm using creative license.
"So shifting or tampering with the diamond in any way is a bad idea..." - Tremor, resigned.
"That's okay, we don't need to. I say we go to the central warehouse, which is where they're performing the summoning, right Breanna?" - Harold, turning to the Leathe.
She nods.
"Right. We go there and kill the bastards." - Harold, clapping his hands together.
"I don't think we can take them all. Judging by Brewer, they've got some impressive casters in there." - Tremor.
"Bad plan. We'd all die." - Maebh.
"No, fine then. We burn it down!" - Harold, exasperated.
"But then they'll just run out and kill us. I'm pretty sure they'll notice if the building they're in starts smoking. Plus this rain's only getting heavier." - Maebh, pointing out the flaws.
"I can give everyone two words for a really good reason as to why we shouldn't just go blindly in there. The Trickster." - Kel'Serrar, grim.
"Aaaah.... Yeah..." - Harold, troubled.
"Whose side is he on anyway?" - Maebh, with a sarcastic laugh.
"Probably not ours. And do you really want to find out?" - Kel'Serrar, with a laugh.
"Back to the problem at hand though, what do we do?" - Harold.
"Regarding that, I had an idea. Frozen blood right? If I immolate it, it's not frozen anymore. Breanna's already told us it has an a affinity for cold. So I suggest that if I melt the blood it might not be attracted to it, but leave the tripod intact so that if it is summoned, at least it can't break free because of us." - Kel'Serrar, thoughtful.
"Will that work Bree?" - Maebh, quickly.
The Leathe shrugs and then nods.
"I guess so." - Breanna.
"That's good enough for me. Do it." - Maebh, to Kel'Serrar.
Everyone else nods and the ranger pulls an arrow from his quiver, concentrates for a moment and fire erupts from the shaft. He stabs the arrow into the block of blood-ice and watches as it begins to melt in contact with the superhot flames.

The arrow is ruined by the time the blood is melted, the flames having licked up the shaft and turned the hardwood to charcoal. He puts the arrow in his quiver anyway so as not to leave any evidence behind.

"Tremor and I have axes, we'll go break some doors in." - Harold, foregoing subtlety.
Breanna tests her key out on the lock of the warehouse they're already in, opening it with a slight *click* and giving the rest of the party condescending looks.
"To save time, Tremor and I will take every second one." - Harold, really wanting to hack down some defenceless doors.
Breanna and Maebh share an eyeroll and the party moves out. Tremor and Harold attack the next warehouse in the diamond while Breanna runs ahead to another one on the list and unlocks it with her key. Kel'Serrar and Maebh follow them, the ranger with a lit torch to melt the blood and the mage ready to do some serious dispelling.
Surprisingly, this all goes according to the plan, and within minutes they find themselves outside the first warehouse with the summoning diamond hopefully disrupted. Every warehouse they attempted to get into, they did so and there was a contraption in each one. Somewhere along the line they even had time for Tremor to take a quick leak on the side of the warehouse.
Yet another occurrence of our special houserule, wherein if a player needs a bathroom break, we find a way for the character to do so too. We've not yet had to deal with this in combat to my memory, though I envisage it potentially being full of funny.

It was interesting to note that all of these warehouses had been recently completely cleared out and the last row are actually such recent constructions that they consider the possibility that they were created specifically for this ritual.

And then, trouble. From the direction of the town proper, they hear the sounds of a commotion of some description.
There are guards coming, wearing the Redwyn livery, not that of the town. They are wearing leather armour and armed with shields and a mix of maces and spears. These are the mayor's men.

The mayor Breanna recently killed.

There are ten of them and they are swiftly approaching.

"I don't really want to get into a drawn out combat that I will probably die in." - Dev.
"Well do you want to get into a short combat where you wound a few of them while the rest of us run?" - WIngs.
"No." - Dev.
"Right, well then. I'm running away." - Wings.
"My arrows will be going in the same direction as our dwarf." - Sins.
"I outrun your arrows!" - Wings.
"WHAT!?" - Ladyhawk and myself, practically simultaneously and cracking up with laughter. In hindsight, the funny part was just how he said it.
"Run fast little man, for I have twenty-three friends who fly faster than you." - Sins. And the whole table lost it. And after the event, I award him the Badass One-Liner of the Night Award. And it was glorious.

The group runs, taking cover amongst the warehouses, taking the warehouse furthest from the oncoming guards and barricading it from the inside. Unfortunately, Tremor attracts their attention as he runs, his chain hauberk clanking slightly.

Maebh scored a 3, Kel'Serrar a 1 and Breanna a 0 on their Concealment Checks. All three have bonuses and Kel'Serrar and Breanna's are rather substantial ones. Harold also passed, but not that amazingly.
"I'm a stabbing shrubbery, in a warehouse, and I'm still so inconspicuous that everyone thinks it's completely normal!" - LD, very happy with her rolling. As well she should be. She's turned into quite the little Dice Jesus. Or should that be Jesus-ette?
Many jokes were made how she could steal someone's shoes, belt and pants and then shave their hair without them noticing. In fact, she's so good, she could probably steal their identity from them. And they still wouldn't have a clue.

In a complete turnaround, Tremor's stealth failed him and the guards charge after him.
"Quick, that way!" - Guardsmen, after the dwarf.
Tremor, not wanting to lead the guards to the rest of the party, waves them on and changes direction, turning left and hoping to throw the guardsmen off.
Some OOC discussion where Maebh suggests a Wall of Blades between the Dwergar and his pursuers to allow him to get away, but Wings turns it down, wanting to do things differently.
The party looks back out at the Dwergar who nods at them before running towards the central warehouse, leading the guardsmen away from his companions. They take his cue and quickly close the door. Breanna, hidden with her Shadowskin and preternatural stealth skills, stays outside and relocks the door before scrambling up the wall and through a window.

"Quick, stop him before he gets to the centre!" - Guard sergeant to his men. The whole group hears this as the guards pass their warehouse, conforming that the guards are in league with the cult.

Hearing this, Harold growls.
"We can flank them." - Harold, to the rest of the group.
"Our assassin just locked the door Harold." - Kel'Serrar, pointing out a major flaw.
"Then open it for me." - Harold, with a grin.
Maebh readies a Wall of Blades as Kel'Serrar draws an arrow from his quiver.
"Stand back, this might be painful." - Kel'Serrar as he ignites his arrow. Magical flames ripple over it as his spell works.
The Danann draws his bow, takes a step forward and aims for the centre of the door, roughly where the lock is on the other side. And looses. The arrow slams the doors open and flames billow out, startling the guards who turn and look with horrified expressions as a tall Invarrian lays into them with axe and sword.
Tremor turns with his borrowed sword in hand, in time to see the explosion and grins in anticipation as the first of the guardsmen reach him.
Harold whirls into two of the stragglers, smashing them aside with consummate ease before running further out to his beleaguered companion, shoving his axe through his belt and drawing a shortsword over his shoulder. One of the guardsmen closing in on Tremor turns to face the duellist and takes one of Harold's swords on his shield. The guardsman is so amazed to have survived this onslaught, he loses his grip on his mace and drops it.

Kel'Serrar meanwhile prepares a Patriot Arrow, with just a little bit too much power and giving himself a splitting headache.

"Is there anything in the warehouse?" - LD.
"No there's not really save the gold and silver contraption. In fact, one thing you guys note is just how clean it is."
"You know, you could have put some loot in this scene for us." - Wings.
"There is. Walking loot. Whoever wanted ten maces and shields and some leather armour, you've got it."
"Right well then, is there any way I can affect this fight in any way whatsoever?" - LD, after the laughter had died down.
"You could go out and stab some guards."
"Right. I go out there with my carving knife and attack the first guy I see." - LD.
"Don't you have a dagger?" - Dev.
"I have two daggers, but I prefer to kill with my carving knife." - LD, just about creepily enough to give me nightmares that night.
"Okay..." - Dev, practically speechless. As we all were.
"Yeah, so I'll run out there.... And start swinging randomly, hoping to hit someone in the kneecap." - LD, to much laughter.
"I'm going to assume you meant you want to go out there and flank them?"
"In the kneecap!" - LD. And all lost their respective ****.

That's all for now. But I'll be back in a minute. :smallbiggrin:

EDIT* Here's the second part. Enjoy! :smallbiggrin: (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16397812&postcount=93)

Phoenixguard09
2013-11-11, 12:29 AM
Breanna runs out, shrouded in darkness and wielding a heavy carving knife. One of the guardsmen moving towards Tremor is unaware of the little assassin up until the point where he find his right leg will not move. He looks down and notices the his lower leg is lying upon the ground beneath him. And then he crumples, in too much shock to even feel the pain as he bleeds to death. Breanna's presence is unnoticed by all, having already moved on.

LD's maniacal cackle in the background of the recording is really quite disconcerting. An interesting point came up here though. Breanna is at this stage, the strongest party member, narrowly beating Harold in that regard.

So where there were jokes about her being somewhat chubby at the beginning of play, the character's weight is actually quite accurate as Breanna is obscenely strong. As in, would probably win an arm-wrestle against the six foot tall Harold.... Ah well, that's what happens when you pump the Strength stat. As an aside, Breanna is probably the most optimised character in the party at the moment, though that is purely in a killing things sense.

Tremor barrels past two guardsmen and meets up with Harold, cutting one of them down with his sword as he goes.
"THE RUM COMPELLS ME!" - Tremor, giving into his berserker blood.
Also, Wings wanted to roll an Intimidate Check on the second guardsman to try and avoid a Provoked Attack. Part of Tremor's background is that he has a massive case of blood-rage. We've still not decided if it's a curse or a disease or just something supernatural that will always remain mysterious, but it basically gave Tremor the Beserker Rage Trait virtually for free. As it was a characterful idea which explained his rampant alcoholism, I was happy for him to take it.

The guardsman grits his teeth and swigs at the Dwergar, but Tremor ducks under the mace with supreme ease and delivers a raking sword wound across the man's chest. He continues to run towards where Harold is facing a single disarmed guardsman.

Maebh steps out of the warehouse, with her readied spell crackling in her hands and anchors it between two warehouses, splitting the remaining three guardsmen from Harold, Tremor and Breanna with the disarmed guard, buying them some time. She takes quick stock of the situation and notices something alarming.

"One's missing!" - Maebh, letting the rest of the party know that one of the squad of ten guards has disappeared.

The disarmed guardsman in front of Harold throws his shield to the ground and hold his hands up, gaze flickering from Harold to Tremor and then back again. The Dwergar gives a snort of contempt and picks up the guardsman's mace and shield before stalking over to the Wall of Blades, where he eyes of the guardsmen on the other side. The man whose chest he carved open earlier has been eviscerated where he lay by the blades as they whirl through the air.
"Please, let me go. I don't want any trouble." - Disarmed guardsman, nervous.
"Why did you attack us then?" - Breanna, scoffing and still hidden.
"Wherever you are, whoever that was, I'm just doing my job." - Disarmed guardsman.
"Tell us everything and we'll let you go." - Maebh, striding up to the conversation.
"About what? I only started this job a week ago. I was a baker before that." - Guardsman. Up close they can tell he is quite young.
Dev asks if he can check to see if the guard is lying. They all roll and Harold is the only one to fail. So everyone thinks he's telling the truth, except Harold, who gets an inexplicable urge to beat the kid's face in because he just knows he's lying.
"The boy can go on his way-" - Maebh, cut off.
"No, no, I don't think-" - Harold, advocating a more permanent solution.
"After we release him from the storehouse which we lock him in." - Maebh, finishing her sentence.
Kel'Serrar gives a somewhat admiring chuckle from inside the warehouse.

There's a fair bit of OOC here and I started worrying that I may have been wrong when I thought that this would be the last session of this arc. That my players' inability to agree on the simplest of solutions had struck once more and we would be debating what to do with this guardsman until after midnight. Because similar things have happened in this game.

Dev went on one of his, "I need to mindlessly antagonise people" benders and decided that the disarmed guardsman needed to be fed into the Wall of Blades. The rest of the party was sort of passively against this, save Ladyhawk, who had her heart set on keeping him prisoner and releasing him later.

I must remember to put an overview of the resulting post-game conversation in the Wrap-Up as it leads to some interesting role-playing observations.

Anyway, back to the game.

Before a decision is made, from where Tremor is hurling abuse at them from the other side of the wall, one of the three stunned guardsmen has a brainwave.
"**** it, go round!" - Guardsman, who promptly sets off running with his fellows around the warehouses.
"Pick up your weapons and fight lad!" - Another grizzled guardsman with pepper grey hair and beard, to the younger disarmed guardsman upon coming face to face with Harold. He obviously didn't notice Tremor picking them up earlier.

The young guardsman backs off with his hands still raised until his back brushes against the wall of a warehouse with a saddened expression on his face.

Dev continued to propose methods of killing the unarmed guardsman.
"Right, so if you don't want me to kill him, can I just mortally wound him?" - Dev.
"No or I will shield bash you with his shield!" - Wings.
"Why not!?" - Dev.
"You've got three guys running towards you and you're going to turn your back on them and go for the unarmed guy?" - Wings.
"He could grab a weapon and kill us from behind." - Dev.
"He moved away from his weapons! Plus I already have them!" - Wings, getting frustrated.

Maebh sends of Gust of Wind toward the three oncoming guardsmen. Two of them are lifted off the ground by the force of her magic and thrown through the wall of a warehouse. The third is slightly more solidly built and manages to keep his feet through the buffeting wind. He braces himself with his shield before him but then finds himself cut down by Harold, who charges at him with sabre and shortsword.

"Brother!" - Disarmed guardsman, with quite a bit of grief.

Aww you made him cry." - Ladyhawk.
"Haha, you made him cry!" - LD.
"Argh! Who cares!" - Dev.

The guardsmen have been taken care of. Both guardsmen who went through the wall have not stirred, so the party assumes they're out for the count. So Harold, Tremor and Breanna spread out amongst the corpses and start to divest them of their money. Which is real sensitive in regards to their prisoner.

The rest of the party was not aware of this at the time, but Harold finished off the two unconscious guardsmen before looting the bodies.

Maebh approached the prisoner with three sulvers in her hand.
"You can have these if you leave town for a couple of days. At least until this all blows over." - Maebh, apologetic.
"I have nothing left here anymore. If you want me gone then I shall leave gladly." - Guardsman, wiping away tears.

"Aww, I hug him." - Ladyhawk.
"He shrugs you off, still upset at the role you played in killing all of his friends."
"I bet I'm stronger than he is. I hug him." - Ladyhawk.
"You may manage to pin him down in a hug, but he doesn't hug you back."
"Fine then, I kick him in the shins and walk off." - Ladyhawk.
"Or you could stab him in the throat." - Dev.
"Put him out of his misery." - LD.
"No because Dev is getting angry for some reason, let's move on." - Ladyhawk.
"The sociopathy with you guys is incredible. I mean, you just killed this guy's mates and brother so you are seriously looking at slitting his throat to put him out of his misery."
Order of the Murder-Hobo indeed.

Breanna reckons he should be put out of his misery, believing that he will probably commit suicide over the course of the next two days or so anyway. Dev agrees with this assessment, although his reasons for wanting to kill him are a never fully explained as the rest of the group seem to reach a consensus that the guardsman being a threat is unrealistic. Ladyhawk expresses some dismay at their predictions regarding the young guardsman's lifespan, which cues a massive rant from Dev where he questions the very nature of role-playing itself. Once again, the specifics will go in the Wrap-Up, but some of the points expressed are quite interesting.

The guardsman walks away and the group discuss how they're going to take on the central warehouse. They have bigger fish to fry.
"We're going to fry him? I'll get the oil!" - LD, maliciously.

"Let's burn it down." - Harold.
"In the pouring rain...." - Kel'Serrar.
Silence...
"I don't care." - Harold, with a slight smile.
"I don't care about your fancy 'laws of reality!" - Breanna, laughing.
"Can I have my longsword back?" - Harold, to Tremor who is busy adjusting the strap of his new shield, appropriated from the young guardsman.
"No." - Tremor, grimly and not even looking up.
"There's only one doorway in and out." - Breanna.
"Let's make our own entrance then." - Harold.

Maebh pools fire in her hands and sends it out in a roiling gout of flame which blasts the side-wall in. Inside, there is, a room.
"There are some walls, and, some ceilings... Wait! Just one ceiling." - LD and Ladyhawk. I used to quote Red vs Blue a lot and it seems to have rubbed off on them.
There is a cabal of warlocks in long, dark red robes. Wilmund Brewer is in pride of place, standing before a wrought iron pedestal, fashioned into the shape of a three-clawed hand, with hands upraised. Set into each of the claws is a thick, gleaming coin. Beside Brewer stands the Trickster, clad in nondescript drab grey. Five other warlocks stand in the warehouse, three men and two women. The missing guardsman is also here, sprawled on the ground with a jagged chunk of splintered wood embedded in his throat.

Brewer looks up from where he is standing before the pedestal and his brow creases in frustration.
"Stop them. Quickly!" - Brewer, to his compatriots.
Breanna recognises what he's doing. He's in the middle of this summoning and she can tell that it's not going the way he wants it to. She surmises this is down to the group screwing with all of his lures.
Harold, the first to react, charges across the warehouse and smashes into one of the four warlocks who turned to stop the group when Brewer gave his command. The Invarrian manages to push both of them back, and both are badly injured by his blades, but neither goes down.

There is a flash of light from next to Brewer and with a strangled yelp, six identical copies of the Trickster flash into being. There is another flash of light and one of the copies gives another yelp of pain, turns blackened and burnt for a split second, and then disappears.

Having readied a Flaming Arrow earlier, Kel'Serrar draws it back and sends it towards Brewer, but the arrow flies wide and slams into the opposite wall, blasting a small hole in it.
Maebh calls up a tempest and flings it into the warehouse. Harold staggers slightly, but keeps his feet, while Brewer is taken by surprise and is blasted off his feet and into the opposite wall. The various Tricksters dissipate upon contact with the howling wind and there comes a thud from that wall, along with a muffled groan of pain, though there is nothing there to be seen. One of the female warlock flies into a wall and hits it with a sickening crack. She falls to the ground, lifeless.
One of the warlocks next to Harold managed to avoid the majority of the blast and starts clicking his fingers, trying to call up some sort of magic. With a small grin, Maebh figures that this must be the incompetent who was set to ward the lures.
The other warlock against Harold calls a flaming green dagger into existence is his hand and takes a swing at Harold. The Invarrian uses his decades of experience and takes the man's wrist high on the flat of his blade and guides it down beside him and into the chest of the clicking warlock, who falls to the ground with both a surprised expression and a gaping, steaming and corroding wound in his chest.

A successful use of the Fall on Their Own Blades Talent. Basically, on a successful Parry against one of two or more opponents, Harold may force the parried strike to hit one of his other enemies. They get a Reflex Save, but if they fail, they take the damage. It's a Talent which is designed to make the Duellist just a little better at taking on multiple opponents in a truly swashbuckling style.

Brewer staggers to his feet, looks around and appears to get pretty angry.
"If you've read Harry Potter, book B I believe." - A call-back to a previous conversation.
From the warlock's hands springs a roiling whip of fire, which then seeks out his first foe, Harold, but the wily Invarrian manages to roll away from the flames.

The only member of the cabal who is not yet engaged hurls a blast of fire at Maebh, who brings up a disc of shining gold energy between herself and the oncoming flames. Her shield absorbs the majority of the blast, but it doesn't stop it all and Maebh finds her arm is burnt.

Breanna ducks inside and makes for the warlock with the green flaming dagger. She takes her carving knife and puts it through the man's leg. He dies and his dagger gutters out into nothing.

Tremor charges inside with his hatchet in hand and a looted shield strapped to his arm. Brewer's whip cracks at the Dwergar, but it slams into his shield instead, singeing Tremor and staggering him slightly, but still he carries on. He slams his shield into the warlock, pushing him back with a roar of fury before caving his chest in with the hatchet, smashing him to the ground and almost decapitating him with the rim of the shield.

Three cries of anguish ring out, one from what seems to be nowhere as Tremor practically mutilates their leader. Harold charges at one of the surviving warlocks and cuts him down easily. Kel'Serrar puts an arrow in the last one and brings her down.

Running footsteps can be heard heading for the breach Kel'Serrar made earlier. Maebh uses Trueseeing and all of a sudden, she can see him. And he looks terrified. The Danann mage throws two blasts of fire at him, one of which hits him and the other slams into the wall before him. The Trickster falls to the ground, flames wreathing his body. She walks over to him.
"I got you, bitch." - Maebh, putting her spear through his throat and grinning.
And that's it. The cabal is finished.

Harold walks over to the two female cultist and pulls back the hoods. His suspicions however are unfounded when he finds that neither woman is Dhara.
Breanna, Tremor and Maebh go to the pedestal and Breanna explains that the coins seem to be a receptacle for daemonic power, however they are empty. Tremor takes them out of the pedestal and hands one each to Maebh and Breanna, taking the third for himself.
Tremor then joins Kel'Serrar and Harold in looting the bodies, picking up some money and the Dwergar grabs an amulet from Brewer himself. It is a gold medallion on a silver chain, the symbol of a burning pine tree carved into the token. He hands it to Maebh, who studies the enchantment on it, but comes to no conclusion other than it appears to be enchanted with preternaturally good luck. The mage hands it back to him, informing him that it is safe. Tremor puts it around his neck.
Breanna picks up a book from the young warlock, recognising it as a banned text. She has seen it before though never read it.
In essence, Daemon Summoning for Dummies.
Maebh searches the Trickster's smoking corpse and finds very little. Some spare coins and a small note.


Morgaris,

Remember to fill out last quarter's trade report when you get home.

They take a moment to breath, before heading out. The cult's been taken out. It's time to leave.

And we left it there....

The Wrap-Up
Okay, first up that was quite an enjoyable session. Now on to the interesting debates we had.

First Rant: Dev expressed here that of the party, the Danann were not playing their characters completely right. Now that is dangerous ground to be treading to begin with, but he did back up his argument with examples.
Maebh: Hates humans and would think nothing of sacrificing them according to her background, is suddenly squeamish about killing an innocent.
Kel'Serrar: Much the same, except that he was indifferent in the event anyway.

In response, Sins said that Kel'Serrar didn't really care anyway, while Ladyhawk defended herself by saying that interacting with the group has led to her softening in general as she's realised that her people have cast her out and maybe that other peoples are perhaps worthy of more than just a swift death. Dev still believed that she was playing herself and not her character, something Ladyhawk took some offence at, believing that instead she was playing out a more complex arc of her character's development.

Second Rant: Dev then expressed that he could not believe that the players were getting emotionally attached to this NPC. As far as he was concerned, the sympathy they felt was not something he felt should be taken so seriously. Personally I feel that if you are not emotionally invested in a story and the characters then there is no real point in playing, but I recognise that people so play differently. The problem is when someone tries to force others to play their way when the others don't really want to. An interesting observation I guess.

Anyway, that's it for the second arc. Session 3.1 has been played and I will get to that soon, but for now this is all. I'm also going to make the stat blocks of each character available online for the readers to take a look at.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2013-11-20, 10:15 AM
Just letting everyone know that the write-up of Session 3.1 is in the works and I hope to have it finished pretty soon.

Sadly we have called off the next session until at least after Christmas as Dev is unavailable. Hopefully this hiatus won't be permanent, but if I'm honest, I can't guarantee that.

Still, here's hoping that 3.1 isn't the last one. :smallsmile:

Thanks for following us this far.

Cheers,

Amidus Drexel
2013-11-20, 11:17 AM
Just letting everyone know that the write-up of Session 3.1 is in the works and I hope to have it finished pretty soon.

Sadly we have called off the next session until at least after Christmas as Dev is unavailable. Hopefully this hiatus won't be permanent, but if I'm honest, I can't guarantee that.

Still, here's hoping that 3.1 isn't the last one. :smallsmile:

Thanks for following us this far.

Cheers,

:smallcool:

Aw... well, that sucks... :smallfrown: I hope you guys can get together again afterwards. I love reading these. :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2014-01-09, 12:06 PM
I hope everyone has had a good and safe Christmas and New Year. :smallsmile:

I also bring glad tidings.

Tiding the First: Session 3.1 is on it's way. I've been busy over the last few weeks but I've slowly been chipping away at it. So not long now until you can all read the latest adventure. :smallwink:

Tiding the Second: Dev finally got his ass into gear. We are looking at making a return game some time in January. :smallbiggrin:

So anyway, should be a bit of fun for everyone.

Talk soon,
PG

Phoenixguard09
2014-01-21, 10:15 PM
Just a small update so as to reassure you all that you are not being abandoned. :smallwink:

We are going to play 3.2 tomorrow night. Everyone has assured me they can make it, so we are full steam ahead. :smallbiggrin:

Cheers,

Mewtarthio
2014-01-22, 02:07 AM
I shall anticipate with all my strength!

Phoenixguard09
2014-01-22, 11:22 AM
Session 3.1: Fire, Smoke and Dwarven Catapults

Welcome to Session 3.1
"Interrupting noise!" - Dev.
"Aaaand, we've killed Sins." - In response to Sins who has faceplanted on the table.

I ask if they wanted to actually play out their escape or just time-jump to wherever they want to go. Dev wanted to time-jump but the rest of the group seemed to be pretty set on at least playing the escape from the town.

Personally I expected them to go for the time-jump. I thought they couldn't wait to get the hell out of Summer Hill.

The cart is in the courtyard behind the White Stallion, along with Harold's horse, which he had picked up from the stables earlier that morning and hitched to a tree next the wagon. The marcwolves were both tied up as well. The group decides that they need to get there and quickly.

Before they leave, Tremor finishes the decapitation job on Brewer and quickly fashions a sack for it from the man's robes, following Kel'Serrar's suggestion that they are far more likely to be paid if they have evidence of Brewer's demise.

"We need to get to the east gate." - Maebh.
"What happens if they are closed, barred, whatever?" - Harold, tightening the straps of his cuirass.
"Well we blow them open. I've done it before, I'll do it again. It's just on a larger scale this time." - Maebh, wanting to get on the move.
"We could make a dwarf-hole!" - LD.
"Because dwarf doors are invisible when closed." - Dev, knowingly.

They exit the now swiftly burning warehouse.
"Wonder who that was? And the two madly grinning Danann answer the question."
"And there's a slightly disappointed Invarrian watching them." - Dev.
"Who's also on fire." - Sins.
"It's okay. Just a little bit. Like a shoulder." - Ladyhawk.
"It's only in your hair man." - Sins.
"But I'm covered in hair!" - Dev.

They exit the warehouse district and are closing in on the tavern, when they notice movement on the streets ahead. Several squads of guardsmen coming closer at a steady jog.
This particular district of Summer Hill is laid out in something approaching a grid. Luckily for the party, by the time the squads of guardsmen started arriving, they were only two streets away from the tavern where they had left their wagon.

Maebh and Kel'Serrar turned right as soon as they saw the guards, thinking to go down the street the White Stallion was on and approach it directly. Tremor and Harold, realising that they were definitely going to be the most noticeable of the group, continue to move straight to the east gate, drawing the majority of the guards away from the mage and ranger. Breanna decides to hell with it and climbs onto the rooftops while the others take a moment to discuss the plan, and proceeds to leap from rooftop to rooftop without any difficulties.

Breanna passes any tests she is required to make by a minimum of five degrees of success, something the group decided meant she was practically flying over the rooves. We have joked about her microwaving her dice to achieve better numbers, but so far she has vigorously denied doing so.

We got a little off-topic here as there was some conversation regarding Tremor's sneaking ability. I include the following only because I am proud of the word-play.
"Yes, Brewer and Shylocke most likely heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, but passed it off because hey, he's only a little drunk."
I got a lot of laughs on the night, though looking at it now, I'm probably inordinately proud of the remark.

Harold, on horseback, leans out of the saddle and heaves Tremor up behind him, regardless of the Dwergar's indignation. The two of them then canter down the street, towards what they assume is a squad of guardsmen.

Seeing Breanna scramble onto the rooftops, Kel'Serrar and Maebh exchange a glance and then follow her up there themselves, struggling a little more to gain purchase than did the abnormally strong Leathe. The ranger pulls himself up, but Maebh slips in the rain and would have fallen if not for Kel'Serrar's help.

"Can I assist her Climbing Check?" - Sins.
"Yes, you can actually. Especially since you're already up there yourself."
"Do you have any rope?" - Wings.
"Yes I do. I have the entire party's supply of rope actually." - Sins.
"....Why!?" - Wings.
"Because nobody has taken it off me yet." - Sins.
"Well fair enough. I wouldn't take it off you, mainly because you will shoot me." - Wings.
"... Yes. Yes I probably would. My rope." - Sins.

The jumping from rooftop to rooftop is made a fair bit more difficult by the rain, which is gradually getting heavier and heavier. Breanna succeeds quite well. The two Danann however find themselves being dragged up onto each roof by whichever one manages to avoid slipping and falling. Once they reach the first street, the two Danann clamber down, finding the rooftops just a little too dangerous. Where they climb down, Breanna practically soars over the street, moving at incredible pace, rolling immediately into yet another springing leap to bring her onto the roof of the dwelling adjacent from the tavern. From her vantage point, she can see the various squads of guardsmen marching towards the warehouse district. At least one squad will reach the tavern before the Danann. As the Danann start to make their way to the tavern, that squad notices them and the guards break into a brisk run, thinking to apprehend them before they reach their cart.

The squad which is running towards them is comprised of four regular guardsmen, clad in the livery of house Silverwood and armed with maces and shields. They are led however, by a large man in heavy armour who wields a broad-bladed shortsword and a large, rectangular shield. He carries no livery however, so they are unaware of his place of origin. As they get closer to the two Danann, they start to move slower and more cautiously, spreading out along the breadth of the road so as to avoid the Danann from running past. In response, Maebh calls up a torrent of raging water, knocking most of them over and snapping the arm of one of the guards.

Kel'Serrar hits the leader of the group with a Patriot Arrow, which punches into his abdomen and leaves him dying on the ground as the two Danann sprint at full speed to where the guardsmen are still recovering from the magical deluge they just suffered.

As the Dwergar and Invarrian canter down the street on horseback, they are surprised by a squad which jogs around the corner ahead of them. Another squad of five men, their leader is clad in heavier armour and wielding a spear, something Harold doesn't want near his horse.
"Wait, you're developing a horse-powered dwarf catapult?"
"PG gets it! I'm so happy." - Wings, laughing.
"On a scale of one to stupid, this is stupid." - Ladyhawk.
"Right, so you're okay with it?" - Dev, to me.
Silent, wondering nod.
"Sooo, how do we do it?" - Dev.
"I can't guarantee you will survive this." - Harold, over his shoulder to Tremor.
"Wha-?" - Tremor, as he is grabbed by the Invarrian and, with the aid of his horse's momentum as Harold wheels it around, is thrown into the midst of the formation of guards, crushing the sergeant and running another guardsman through with his hastily drawn sword.
"Whee!" - Tremor, inevitably drunk, this time on horsepower. (Pardon the pun.)

Still mounted, Harold finds himself surrounded by three guardsmen who are attempting to pull him down to kill him. The horse, they can sell.
"Tremor, take the one on my left!" - Harold, using his horse to push through the guards and swinging at the two others on the right. One guardsman goes down with a sabre strike to the neck, while the other manages to get his shield in between the Invarrian's blade and his head.
Tremor meanwhile picks up the vanquished sergeant's spear and hurls it through the guardsman. Somewhat sadistically, Tremor grinds his boot into the sergeant's broken arm as he stands up before moving towards the Invarrian. The Dwergar takes a moment to relieve himself on the side of a dwelling while he watches Harold's flashing blade bring down the last guardsman of the squad.

The various companions make their way swiftly towards the inn, cutting their respective ways through any squads they come across. Points of interest include Tremor taking out a captain and a guardsman together with a single, scything blow, Breanna dropping from a rooftop to put a knife through the head of a guardsman who was heading towards Maebh and Kel'Serrar and those selfsame Danann putting down two squads together between them with a storm of arrows and magic. In all, the party fights as a well-oiled machine, save for the fact that the party fights as a barely organised bunch of quite powerful individuals.

Ah well...

At this point in the recording, LD took a moment to say hi to her legion of adoring fans.
"Hi public!" - LD, with corresponding creepy face to go with it.

Maebh takes a moment to rush inside the inn and answer the call of nature while Kel'Serrar stands in front of the wagon and covers the streets with his bow, Breanna standing beside him with knives at the ready.
At this point there was an amusing interlude. We play on my pool table, and as such, there is netting which hangs from each pocket of the table, filled with the balls which are required to play. At around this point in time, Wings noticed the knocking noise which was emanating from Dev's direction.
"Would you stop playing with your balls?" - Wings, to general laughter.
"The worst part is, they're not his balls." - Sins, to more laughter.
Good times were had by all, but not like that.
"Actually everyone who reads this, what you are thinking is exactly how it happened. It was awkward. All awkward." - LD, trying to mislead you all. But she requested that I write that.

And so we continued.
Once Maebh had finished in the inn, she quickly comes out and hitches her horse to the cart before the three of them mount up. On their way, they pick up Tremor, while Harold rides on slightly ahead, riding down the occasional guardsman who gets in his way.

While sitting in the cart, the party recognises that the heavily armoured leaders of the guardsmen are armed in the fashion of Elspeth legionnaires. Which is enough to worry the companions regarding the talons that kingdom seems to have inserted into the town.

During this ride, Harold attempts to intimidate a squad of legionnaires. Holding his sword high, he induces his horse into rearing.
"Death to Elspeth and your whore-queen!" - Harold, brandishing his blade.
Harold succeeded on this test and managed to break their morale, making it an easy matter for the party to blast their way through, Harold personally riding down their leader, dispatching him in short order and riding onwards to join his companions. But this may not have been the case.

For his birthday, I bought Dev a gold-plated D10 so that he would always have a tens dice for any percentile rolls. Sadly however, this dice manages to always land between 5 and 8, making it a poor tens dice for a "roll-under" system like Norbayne. As such, we decided that instead, the golden dice would be his ones and his usual silver plastic dice would be the tens. Harold's efficiency took a sudden climb at this point.

"I should stick this one in the microwave." - Dev, referring to his golden dice.
"Yeah, but you know, you should probably not put metal in the microwave."
"Oh yeah, right." - Dev.
"Actually, in all seriousness, how about the oven? Would that be safe?" - Ladyhawk.
"I have no idea."
"Not if you don't have mittens. You could end up with gold all over your hands." - Wings.
"Then he would have the Midas touch." - LD, in a sing-song voice.

The wagon heads at a breakneck pace through the streets of Summer Hill, until it comes to a halt, a mere bowshot from the eastern gate. The gates are closed and the gatehouse manned by guards bearing the Summer Hill livery.

Harold notes that Captain Settwatch is in command of the guards.
"Royan!" - Harold, calling up to the gatehouse, upon which some guardsmen level low-powered bows at the Invarrian. The rest stand ready with spears to repel anyone who comes up the stairs to use the winch to open the gate.
"Sir Oakenshield. I hoped it wouldn't come to this." - Settwatch, grim.
"Come to what?" - Harold, either trying to bluff or genuinely confused.
"The mayor is dead. You killed him." - Settwatch, laying the charges.
"No I didn't!" - Harold.
"I did!" - Breanna, somewhat cheerfully.
"Technically then, your companion committed the murder. That is still something you all must answer for, despite your various other actions including arson, break and enter and destruction of property." - Settwatch.
"What witnesses are there to pin the mayor's death on Breanna?" - Harold.
"Does it matter? She just confessed. But regardless, I shall tell you. The Lady Silverwood has it that the Leathe was seen leaving the mayor's office and followed her to the outskirts of the town as she was suspicious. As it happened, she had good reason to be so." - Settwatch. From this it can be deduced that the Lady Silverwood has some magical ability as she was able to detect the Leathe, and has since lied about who was following who.
"I've seen what you can do and I know a mere man like I cannot stop you. But I am bound by my duty to stand in your way, and by my honour I will not stand aside." - Settwatch, resigned to his fate.

A tough thing to put to the group because on the whole they liked him. Only Tremor and Breanna actually considered killing him at all, something both Harold and Maebh agreed was the wrong thing to do.

"Then Royan, I am sorry. Maebh, blow the gates." - Harold.
The Danann mage blasts open the gates with a fireball, blowing the portal open and allowing the cart to storm through as the guards atop the wall look on in helplessness as they were thrown to the floor. A few guards immediately send up the call for water to put out Maebh's fire, while a handful more take up their bows.
Harold, trotting behind the wagon stops and turns back to Royan with a self-satisfied grin. Without being able to help it, the captain of the guard gives a small smile and waves a hand to call off the archers.
"My friend, you may want to sort out the fire and fix the gate!" - Harold, calling back.
"I shall. Take care on the roads, you will be hunted!" - Settwatch.
The wagon too draws to a stop and Maebh stands on it and calls back.
"Beware the Lady Silverwood. You will find that we destroyed a cult in our time here which intended to bring down your town from within. She was part of that cult." - Maebh, shouting, although Settwatch makes no indication of having heard.
"Cause she's a douchebag!" - Breanna, in a sing-song voice, delivering the finishing touch.

With that, the party begins their long ride to the east, hoping to get within Naillish territory.

And that is the proper end of the second arc.

On the plus side though, that means that now the third arc begins for real. And I will be back with that soon.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-01-22, 01:54 PM
The companions have found themselves on the road east, travelling for many weeks. They remain unmolested on the road, and gradually push further and further into the kingdom of Naille.

On this journey, the marcwolves begin to grow. Outside of any constraints, they now run alongside the wagon, climbing up into it to sleep at night. Most of the party spend the time deep in thought and thinking about what they have done and where they are going. Tremor takes the opportunity to imbue some of his equipment with power, laying runes upon them.
I do not actually have a list yet of what Tremor did, only that he has done so.

At one point on the journey, after unhitching her horse from the wagon after a hrd day's journey, Maebh took the beast aside to graze. She had felt herself become more and more attached to the creature as the journey had progressed, and now felt sure enough in her own power to attempt to bind the horse as a familiar. Reaching out with her consciousness, she mentally touched the horse's mind and was overcome with a wave of calm, assurance and overwhelmingly, curiosity. And so did Toirneach become bound to Maebh, awakened in a sense by a small portion of her being.
We did come up with a backstory for Toirneach, which was quite interesting. For visualisation, think a black Andalusian horse. Gameplay wise, the horse is able to communicate with her through a mind-link. The downside being that there are those who may be able to tell that they are bound and that Toirneach's death could put Maebh out of action for a while. Any pain one feels is felt by the other, and they do, to a certain extent share emotional reactions too, though this is limited and can be controlled.

After this substantial journey, the main road peels off and into a riverside village. A nearby signpost declares the village is named Dreven. In terms of how to visualise it, think of Riverwood from Skyrim.

Seeing as most of my players have played Skyrim to a certain extent, basing locations like this off that game has aided me in setting the scene. I haven't had to devote a great amount of time to describing Summer Hill or Dreven, instead just drawing up a map and telling the players that the place looks like Edoras/Whiterun or Riverwood as the case may be.

That's not to say Dreven isn't different. Just that the basic layout is similar. This is also due to the fact that I'm not much of a cartographer and I struggle to make towns and the like, look realistic. But that's neither here nor there.

The company leaves the wagon by the western gate of the township and lead the two horses to the stables. Unusually for a village in these parts, not only is there a dedicated stable for livestock, but it is situated within the walls of the town, which are squat, sturdy stone affairs, roughly eight feet high. The marcwolves tag alongside Breanna and Harold, both having grown to the size of large sheep. They are well behaved though, to an extent. They are wild animals after all, and their trainers are amateurs, so they are rather rowdy and don't always do as their told. Despite this, Harold manages to get them both in the stable without too much difficulty, having to grease the stable-master's hand with just a little more copper than if he was just stabling a dog.
"Make sure you get in the common room of the inn tonight, eh?" - Stable-master, pocketing his copper and looking up at the sky with a bit of trepidation.
"Why is that?" - Harold.
"It wouldn't do to speak of it out here. Make sure you get inside. And all your friends too." - Stable-master, walking away.
Harold shrugs his shoulders and heads off to the inn.

Kel'Serrar heads to the smithy and sees a massive bear of a Northmann, easily seven foot tall working at his forge.
"Good afternoon." - Blacksmith, looking up from his work and wiping his brow.
"Good afternoon. I was wondering, would you have any arrows for sale?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Hmm, I have arrow-heads. How many would you like?" - Blacksmith, frowning.
"Five should be enough." - Kel'Serrar.
"Well then I can do that. Hang around for about half an hour and I should be able to let this sit by then and I will go sort it out for you. Is there anything else you might be after?" - Blacksmith, about to take up his hammer once more.
"Fine, I'll cave. I might be looking for a sword." - Kel'Serrar, with a wry grin.
"Ah, then you are in luck! I have been called one of the finest swordsmiths in Naille. Once I am finished here I will show you my wares." - Blacksmith, nodding to the ranger and then going back to his work.

Tremor makes his way to the general store and has some time to look around. A bearded man at the back of the store looks up and smiles at the newcomer.
"Ah, what can I do for you my friend?" - Shopkeeper.
"I need this identified." - Tremor, drawing forth his unidentified root.
"Hmm, I'm afraid I do not know. But, tell you what. Magdalyn, out the back of the village, she might know." - Shopkeeper.
"Do you have writing materials and or paper?" - Tremor, swiping the root back into his pouch.
"Ah, that we do. I don't really sell much in that way out here, but of course that means I have quite the backlog! What would you like?" - Shopkeeper, with a laugh.
Tremor purchases various writing instruments and a quantity of parchment to replace that which was stolen.
"Ah, I have another thing for you to look at. Can you identify this?" - Tremor, fishing his amulet out from under his shirt.
"Look friend, I am sorry but I could not say. From the sheen on it, I would say that magic was involved in its forging and I would pay a handsome price for it, but I couldn't tell you of any properties it may have beyond the natural." - Shopkeeper, apologetic.
At this point Maebh walks in, having stabled Toirneach and seen to his feed and water.
"Oh! Another newcomer to our village. What can I do for you?" - Shopkeeper.
"Just looking around for now." - Maebh, quietly and almost to herself.
"Well then, do let me know if you need anything." - Shopkeeper, obviously unnerved.

Kel'Serrar takes a walk around the village, at first to clear his mind, but then he starts to look at the place as a potential battlefield. The village is too quiet to be a cheerful place, the overcast sky lending an ominous air. Several dwellings on the outskirts are abandoned and others show the signs of having been under attack. Windows are barred, doors heavily reinforced and anyone on the street looks to be a in a severe hurry to get back inside. Unsettled, the ranger heads back to the blacksmith, who is just laying his work to rest after quenching the steel in the trough.
"Good timing! So, arrowheads and a sword was it? Follow me and I shall see what Ingir can do for you." - Ingir, good naturedly.
The blacksmith leads Kel'Serrar into a workshop and rifles through some draws before withdrawing five arrowheads and placing them on the wooden counter.
"Now for swords." - Ingir, absent-mindedly going through finished pieces.
He eventually places a collection of arming swords upon the counter and, after testing the balance and heft, the Danann picks out one he would like.
In the end Kel'Serrar gets a good deal on the blade and arrowheads and heads outside with his purchases, thinking about how he's going to fletch some arrows.

Harold walks into the tavern, thinking to get himself a room and maybe some food for his marcwolf. Upon coming in, he realises that the common room is being used as a communal area for most of the village, with bedrolls everywhere. A short blond man at the bar looks up.
"Ah, a newcomer. We don't get many here anymore. Can I help you?" - Innkeeper.
"I think I may be here for a while." - Harold.
"Unfortunately, all our rooms on the second floor are taken, but there is still room here in the common room." - Innkeeper.
"That will be fine. I'll pay for two nights right now." - Harold, handing over the sulvers.
"Is there anything else you may be after?" - Innkeeper, having fleeced the Invarrian something shocking.
"Yes actually, meat for my wolf please. In fact, I'd better go get him now." - Harold, with a malicious grin, knowing he has been ripped off and fully intending to get back at the innkeeper.
"What does he eat?" - Innkeeper, somewhat faintly.
"Meat." - Harold.
"An old ram was slaughtered today. He'll take mutton?" - Innkeeper, looking steadily more uncomfortable.
"Aye, he'll eat almost anything really." - Harold, far too cheerful.
Harold then heads out to the stables to retrieve his marcwolf, and then gets sidetracked by the blacksmith.

Maebh looks around the store and is singularly unimpressed by what she finds. There really does seem to be nothing of any interest. She is just about to head out in disgust when she notices a glint from the corner of the room. There is a golden dagger on the floor, a short blade which appeared to have fallen from a table at some point. The blade is golden and the hilt seems to have been wrapped in a form of white leather. She cannot see a sheathe around, but picks it up and finds that it is quite dusty and has been there for quite a while. Interestingly, it is of a Danann design and she thinks she has seen this blade somewhere before, though she cannot place its origin.

Tremor makes his way to what he was informed was Magdalyn's house, a dilapidated affair on the outskirts of the village. It is quite overgrown, vines creeping up the walls. The front door is barely on its hinges, but Tremor knocks anyway out of politeness.
"Just lift the door and come in!" - Woman's voice, calling from inside.
Tremor takes the door and opens it with more difficulty than one would expect from a small wooden door before walking in. The interior is considerably more well-kept, with firelight spilling from a room to the right. Tremor moves towards it and comes across a young Selkye woman stirring a large iron cauldron. She is small and lightly built and clad in a simple dark green dress.
"So, what can I do for you?" - Magdalyn, not looking up from her cauldron.
"I was told you could identify this root for me." - Tremor, fishing the root out of his pouch.
The woman laughs at his unintentional pun and then takes the root (I'm so sorry) from the Dwergar.
"Ah, you have found something interesting. This is bloodroot. You can make heaps of things out of this, but the most common use is if you grind it up, add a little water and you get a rich sauce." - Magdalyn.
"Hmm, that's nice. Anything else?" - Tremor.
"Some people believe that when mixed with lavender it has healing properties, though that's stretching a bit. Other than that, just use it as food flavouring." - Magdalyn.
"So why did you say it was interesting?" - Tremor, disappointed.
"Well, because it is rare. Particularly in these parts. It requires pretty special conditions for it to grow." - Magdalyn.
Tremor is about to leave when he has a thought.
"Hmm, can you teach me any of your craft?" - Tremor.
"Yes I can, but you will have to be willing to learn." - Magdalyn, who spends the next few hours teaching Tremor the basics of herblore. With a bit of lavender and his bloodroot and a lot of water, Tremor is able to craft three small vials of a healing liquid. The two part ways on good terms, one happy with his newfound knowledge and the other with the progress of her student.

Harold drops off his weapons at the blacksmith for service and sells the shields and maces, the wood Ingir will use for firewood and the iron maces can be melted down. Harold looks at the blades Ingir has available, one in particular catching the Invarrian's eye. Almost three feet, utilitarian hilt and a tempered, blued steel blade.
"I have not seen a blade of such exceptional craftsmanship." - Harold.
"My forge is exceptionally hot. A mage came through these parts a few years back and I asked her a favour. The payment was harsh, but she came through for me and now my forge-fires never die and can reach higher temperatures than I have ever before felt." - Ingir.
"That must work very well for you." - Harold.
"Aye, as difficult as the payment was, it was worth it." - Ingir.
Harold spends a lot and gains a blade of masterwork quality.

Standing in the corner of the general store, staring at the dagger in her hands, Maebh starts when the shopkeeper calls out from behind his bench.
"Have you found something you like?" - Shopkeeper.
"Yes.... Yes." - Maebh, preoccupied.
"Hmm, I have never seen that before..." - Shopkeeper, walking around to her. "I may... have to ask for that I'm afraid. Yes. It's not for sale." - Shopkeeper, holding out his hand and looking troubled.
Maebh hesitates, but eventually hands it over. Almost immediately, the shopkeeper produces a bolt of cloth and wraps the dagger in it. Almost as if he fears to touch it...

While all this is going on, Breanna just finds a tree, climbs it and has a quick sleep.

And we left it there....

Scow2
2014-01-22, 02:16 PM
Seems ominous. I'm hoping they can be genuinely heroic here, instead of Murderhobos R Us like the last town they were in.

ReaderAt2046
2014-01-26, 12:29 PM
Was that dagger the "gilded sword" of the campaign title?

Phoenixguard09
2014-01-26, 10:06 PM
The players know by now, so I'll tell everyone here. No. It's not. :smallwink:

Phoenixguard09
2014-02-02, 10:05 AM
Well the session was played but I will leave it up to the readership to determine whether or not there was any more heroics than before. :smalltongue:

Phoenixguard09
2014-03-31, 11:18 AM
Okay, sorry for the triple post but I felt the need to update everyone.

The next write-up will be along shortly. I've been quite busy recently, just turned twenty and some other stuff I've forgotten about.

After our early year hiatus, we've scheduled a game for this Friday night, hopefully with another player, a friend of LD's. We may also see yet another player's arrival in the next few months, depending on whether or not he behaves.

We shall see. Anyway, this message was just to let our readers know that we still think about you and you all haven't been abandoned.

Cheers everyone, :D

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-16, 11:17 PM
Okay everyone, picture time. :)

First up, here's the group as it stands.
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv154/dragon-gate/IMG_0556.jpg
From left to right, Ladyhawk, Dev, Wings, LD, Sins and PG. Note the ever important Coke in the foreground.

Next up, we've got a new player, Wings of the Opal Sky, or Opal for short. She's a bit of a budding artist herself, and drew some fanart style pictures of Maebh and her soon-to-be-introduced character, Therressa Bannimagen.

First up, Maebh.
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv154/dragon-gate/Maebh.jpg

And secondly, a first glimpse of Therressa.
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv154/dragon-gate/TheresaPic.jpg

That's all for now, but LD has some stuff that will be made available soon.

EDIT* Here's LD's picture of the group, including Therressa.
http://i679.photobucket.com/albums/vv154/dragon-gate/PartyPicture.jpg
This image is actually based on a joke sketch I produced about half a year ago. I knocked it up in about fifteen minutes while I was in the bathroom actually. It's actually quite peaceful, but I digress. LD did a very good job of taking my lack of ability and blocky shapes and turning it into a pretty classy sketch. I'm personally very impressed, if only because I've seen the original she is emulating.

On an unrelated note, we were supposed to play tomorrow, but Wings cancelled at the last minute, so we're postponing again. Opal may or may not be available for the next session, we'll see.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-20, 11:07 AM
Session 3.2: Sleepless Nights and Undead Wolves

The dead line of the Wildermonts once held Blackfort on Mount Dove, an ancient and now abandoned stone fastness built into the side of the mountain in a forgotten age. The Wildermont kings ruled the lands surrounding Mount Dove with a firm and yet fair hand. In a time where the forests were even more untamed than today and villages were under constant threat of attack from neighbouring kingdoms, the Blackfort's positioning gave the Wildermont kings a strong strategic position to strike out at invading forces from. In time, the kings of Wildermont were renowned as the most powerful of those in the western Midlands.

And then one man took the throne who never should have.

History has never recorded if his condition stemmed from causes mundane or arcane in origin, but once the Wolf King was crowned, the lands surrounding Mount Dove would never be the same....
- From Records of the Ancient History of the Naillish Kingdoms.

"Welcome to Session 3.2-"
"You lost The Game." - LD.
"Ah, and there we go again." - Wings, despairing.
LD fails to open her dicebag and drops it on the floor.
"LD verses inanimate object." - Sins.
"So far, inanimate object seems to be winning." - Dev, to general laughter.
"Proof if ever it was needed that the assassin should never have to go up against inanimate objects." - Sins.

So the company finds themselves in the village of Dreven. It is late afternoon and various things have happened around the village. Harold's had his metal objects polished and sharpened, Maebh is upset she's had to hand over a nice golden dagger she found in the general store, Tremor's spent the afternoon with a witch who has taught him all kinds of witchery, Breanna's spent the afternoon sleeping in a tree and Kel'Serrar bought some stuff and buggered around for a while.

The sky is becoming rather dark and overcast and it would surprise no one for rain to set in later. But before we see to that, we must cut back to Maebh, who is still conversing with the owner of the general store.
"Why do you not want to sell it?" - Maebh inquires, regarding the dagger.
"Because I do not know where it has come from, but it is not for sale." - Store owner, looking troubled.
Perception Check from Maebh reveals that he is uneasy about the situation, though most people would be uneasy alone in a room with an irate Danann.
The store owner retreats back behind the counter.
"Very well. If you change your mind, do let me know." - Maebh, before turning and leaving the store.

Tremor is walking down the main road of the village thinking about how he will use not only his new-found witchcraft but also his runecraft which he learnt in secret before he was exiled from home. His initial thoughts are to steal some pieces of equipment from Harold's extensive armoury to practice on, but he discards that for the more honest approach.
"Harold, may I have a word with you?" - Tremor, gruff as he has not had a drink since noon.
"Yes..." - Harold, wary as he knows the Dwergar is prone to sudden changes in character. It would not be out of the realm of possibility for the next ten minutes to become either village-wide drinking contest or an all-out brawl between two very competent warriors.
"Would you have spare pieces of armour I could practice my runecraft on?" - Tremor, inquiring.
"I might do. What were you thinking?" - Harold.
"Runes of protection and fortitude which will hold them strong in battle mainly." - Tremor, already thinking ahead and not focussing entirely on the conversation to hand.
"Aye, I believe I can lend you something." - Harold, grabbing his vambraces and handing them over. "Will these do?"
"Aye, but I hope you won't miss them too much if I bugger it up." - Tremor, taking them.
Tremor takes the bracers to the workbench near Ingir's forge and begins to carefully chisel protective runes into the steel. In little time at all he has completed his task and hands his handiwork back to the Invarrian.
"Thank you." - Harold, taking the vambraces.
Tremor is already thinking about his next project and ignores the duellist. He wanders off to the wagon and picks up his greatsword, bringing it back to Ingir's workbench. He then spends the next half an hour chiselling runes into the blade which will allow him to send molten silver flying from the blade on his command.

Having perfected the runes necessary to provide what he heard described as the Silver Arrow effect, Tremor finds Breanna and offers to give her more powerful weapons. The Leathe, awoken from her slumber throws down her knives to the Dwergar and tells him to go away. Happily, Tremor wanders back to the forge and chisels the runes in, working past the time where the sun dips into the horizon and the majority of the light he is working by is given off by the forge-fires Ingir is still working.

Soon enough Breanna wanders past the smithy and reclaims her knives from the Dwergar, the two of them joining Harold in heading to the inn.

"Now over the course of this journey you have befriended your horse and given him a name." - To Ladyhawk. "Which reminds me, LD and Dev, your marcwolves have gone a hell of a long time without names. They were introduced in the first session..."
"Well, Mark...." - LD offers helpfully.
"What? And Wolfe?" - Sarcastic.
"Ah that's it! Wolfgang! Mine is Wolfgang!" - LD, happily.
"Wolfgang von Markus?"
"Haha that is.... My marcwolf's name." - LD
"And keeping with the minstrel theme, Bach." - Sins, to generally laughter.
"What about Amadeus?" - Ladyhawk.
"I'm torn between Amadeus and... Bach." - Dev, lengthening the syllables of the latter due to his distinctive Dev-ian accent.
Laughter all round.
"Well, roll off then." - Wings.
"Wait, whatever you don't call your marcwolf, you call your horse."
"Okay, the horse is Amadeus. The wolf is Bach." - Dev.
"I'd like to point out for the sake of the recording, you did this." - Sins, blaming me for starting this tangent.

The companions meet up in the tavern and obtain a table. The barkeep wanders over to them.
"I have already spoken with you Invarrian, but not your companions. I imagine you will need a place to stay the night?" - Barkeep, trying to be friendly.
"How much will this cost? Because if it's expensive, back to the tree I go." - Breanna.
"Two sulvers to stay in the common room. We have no more rooms available upstairs." - Barkeep, frowning slightly.
"No rooms available?" - Maebh, frowning.
"No, none." - Barkeep.
"So we'll be down here with other people, on the floor?" - Maebh, frowning even more.
"Yes." - Barkeep.
"I am not staying here. I'll set up my own tent out near the cart." - Maebh, with finality.
"I will too. This is ridiculous." - Breanna.
"I can't recommend that. You really should come in." - Barkeep.
"Of course you would say that, you're charging us for the privilege of using your floor." - Maebh.
"I cannot say, for the Wolf Lord might hear, but for your sake, you should all be indoors when night falls." - Barkeep.
"Fine, I'll pitch my tent inside. I want privacy. And I refuse to pay extra for that." - Maebh.
"It's two sulvers to stay the night in the common room. What you do once you have paid is your business." - Barkeep, shrugging.
The company pays the barkeep for shelter for the night.
"Now, tell us. Who is the Wolf Lord?" - Maebh.
"I cannot say, for if he hears me it would draw terrible vengeance upon us." - Barkeep, leaning in and keeping his voice low.
"Who could I ask for more information?" - Maebh, just as conspiratorial.
"Look, stay in the village tonight and you will know why I am wary." - Barkeep.
He looks around the common room and the companions follow his gaze. They realise that the majority of the village seems to have congregated inside the building. Many of the people look to have abandoned their homes and now are living out of the inn.

A small period of discussion here is turned off topic as Wings describes how he will propose the next Tremor and Harold vs Norbayne drinking contest.
"I have decided that Dev will be the drinking drinker tonight." - Wings, launching into a planning monologue.
"Meanwhile, Dev is sitting here scratching his head, thinking, "What the actual f***?" - Dev, laughing.
"While Harold is sitting, thinking, "Ale!!!!" - Sins, to more laughter.
"No guys, wait, you didn't let me explain! I'm going to stand up on the table and call out, "Ten sulvers to the one who can outdrink my man here!" - Wings, trying to derail things further.
"Well before the crowd goes to stupid, can we get something to eat?" - Ladyhawk.

The inn provides meals to its patrons as a matter of course. The fare is simple, a cut of roasted meat, a hunk of bread and a slice of hard cheese. Usually there would be more variety available, but times are hard in Dreven.

Plates are promptly served to the companions, who delve in with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The meat is overcooked to the liking of the Danann for instance, but the irritating habit they have found amongst other Midlanders of providing vegetation as foodstuffs is absent, much to their relief.

"So, how about we liven this place up a bit, eh? I'll put my money up for anyone who can outdrink my mate here." - Tremor, friendly to the barkeep.
"I am sorry, but we have not received any goods in town for a long while. I simply cannot afford to do anything like that." - Barkeep, apologetic.

The people within the inn are quiet and subdued, none of them willing to make eye contact with the strangers, let alone strike up conversation. Outside the inn, those few people who are not sheltering there at night shut up their houses and shore up any points of egress as well as possible.

Ingir the smith has finished his work and practically barricades himself inside his house. Having seen how the populace prepares for the evening, what was initially thought to be extreme reinforcement of the stable and inn are now viewed in a new light.

The feeling inside the inn is that few outside will survive.

A hallway upstairs has a window which looks out over the stable, allowing Maebh to potentially look out over her horse. The window is barred too, making it difficult for anything to get in.

Night falls. Families huddle together in the common room of the inn. A small child begins to cry and the way the nervous mother hushes the small boy gives the feeling that they've been in this situation before.

Through the mind-link with Toirneach, Maebh can feel a growing sense of restlessness. The other animals in the stable, livestock, dogs and the few other horses start to panic and even the normally stoic Toirneach finds himself getting nervous. The sounds of the animals in their panicked state can be heard clearly from within the inn.

Harold walks upstairs and looks out the window. The sun has set and dark heavy clouds shroud the skies. Two torches have been lit in the iron brackets on either side of the western gate, brave men having run out and set them in the brackets before retreating to the safety of the inn. Aside from those two points of light, Harold can see nothing from his vantage point.

Everything is black.

A low thunder builds in the distance and the wind begins to blow harder through the trees. The thunder gets closer and louder as the minutes roll by. From within the stable, Toirneach is starting to panic, caught up in the same mad frenzy as the rest of the animals inside. His great black shoulder slams hard into the side of his stall and the stallion screams into the night. Through her mind-link, Maebh can feel that panic and fear, but with a great force of will, she pushes the emotions aside.

Willpower Check from Toirneach is failed, so he succumbs to Fear. Due to the mind-link, Maebh must also take the same Check with a negative equal to how much Toirneach failed by, in this case netting her a -17 to the Check. Which is hefty, but not insurmountable. Her Check is passed, and she manages to retain control of her own emotions.

Having a familiar has its upsides, but there's some disadvantages too.

Kel'Serrar slips deep into a trance where he sits upon the floor, trying to determine just what is coming. His mind's eye leaves his own consciousness, affording him an eagle-eye view of what is transpiring.

Kel'Serrar took the Woodland Senses Major Talent at some point, but I think this is the first time he's used it. Major Talents are basically very useful effects that can generally only be used once a session. Woodland Senses is a Ranger Major Talent that basically allows the Ranger to see the landscape from above and determine just what is in the immediate area. It's a combination of extraordinary, almost supernatural senses, knowledge of the lands and patterns in nature and just an innate sense of direction.

Kel'Serrar swiftly notices that the rolling thunder is in fact the sound of hundreds of paws hitting the ground at great speed, but it takes some time for his mind to adjust to the new perspective he is being granted. The spectral vision of his mind's eye reveals the area around the gate, where there is a great rushing pack of creatures, subtle hints in the air suggesting both that they are both wolves and not of the living variety. Such is Kel'Serrar's attunement to the world around him, he can tell that they are not breathing, nor are their hearts beating.

"What is it?" - Tremor, to the Danann ranger.
"Wolves, but this is no ordinary pack..." - Kel'Serrar, mumbling in his trance.

From his window, Harold can see only the vaguest of shapes passing by on the street below. There is a series of sickening thuds, a crash and then the screaming begins in earnest from further within the village.

Harold attempts to sniff but, has no luck smelling over the smells of the various people in the tavern and the woodsmoke permeating the inn.

The darkness outside seems to be drawing closer and closer to the torches, drowning the light being emitted.

"Can we kill the things now?" - Wings.
"Well, if you want to go outside..."
"No, I don't want to go outside. Not yet. I want to find out if we can kill them." - Wings.
"If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." - Sins.

The screaming ceases. The pack thunders through the village. And that's it.

It's over for the night.

The mood in the tavern is not panic as much as depression. As far as the common people are concerned, no one will be leaving this village alive. Every night, the wolves return and kill a few more citizens and it's only a matter of time until the wolves break into the inn and kill everyone inside.

"I want to be able to wake up immediately if something does come crashing through." - Wings.
"So sleep in front of the door. Nothing can go wrong with that." - Sins, helpful.
"No, that would put me in the direct path of attack. I don't want to be the doorstop." - Wings.
"The dwar-stop?" - To pained laughter. They can't all be funny.

The companions set themselves up in the common room and sleep for the night, wary and with weapons close at hand. Bach wriggles his way under Harold's jacket, seeking reassurance before he sleeps.

"Meanwhile, my marcwolf's out in the barn screaming, "What the hell's going on!?" - LD.
"Yeah pretty much."
"Sorry Wolfgang!" - LD.
"No don't say sorry to the wolf-gang, they just rampaged through town." - Sins, proving my earlier statement regarding puns to be correct.
"You have planned this." - Dev, glaring at the GM, as if it were my fault that LD named her marcwolf after a famous composer.

As dawn breaks across Dreven, the people of the village awake to do their daily business.

"Did Dev's marcwolf pee itself on him during the night?" - Wings, sniggering.
"Oh no, please tell me it didn't." - LD, head in hands.
"No it didn't, although it did get very anxious at various points in the night."
"If it does continue to do that, we may change his name to Often Bach." - Sins, redeeming himself for his earlier pun.

The companions head out together into the village. Maebh, Harold and Breanna cross to the stable to go check on their various animals, while Tremor heads to the general store to avail himself of a pipe and pipeweed and Kel'Serrar heads to the party's cart to bring all of the group's belongings that have been left on it into the common room of the inn.

"We were fortunate last night that the stables were not attacked. That was a large pack- Ah, but I have said too much." - Stablehand, unbarring the door and lifting the chains away.
The companions reunite with their animals, both Maebh and Harold leading their horses out into the open air. Where Harold does so to simply get the horse's muscles warmed up and moving again, Maebh takes Toirneach aside and speaks with him quietly in the shade beneath a tree. Breanna leads Wolfgang outside too before settling down to play with him in a farmer's abandoned paddock.

Kel'Serrar, having shifted the party's gear inside the tavern begins exploring the town. The dirt road leading through Dreven has been turned to churned up mud, both by the continuous rain during the night and by the horde of wolves. The Danann finds the dwelling which was torn into and is struck with the oddity of what he finds. The corner of the house had been forced inwards to allow the wolves in. The ranger assumes that the wolves just battered themselves against the walls until they gained entrance. Inside, the table is set as if for dinner, however two wooden chairs are overturned and there are splashes of blood upon the floor. No body parts, nor torn clothes, just blood.

"Can I take a Wilderness Knowledge Check to determine just how odd this is?" - Sins.
"Don't need the check, it's very odd and your character has never seen anything like it."
"Okay, second thing. I engage sociopath mode and loot the house, how much money do I find?" - Sins.
"*Sigh* Roll a D10... Do something heroic why don't you..."

Having searched the house for evidence, Kel'Serrar finds himself in the possession of several sulvers and a good deal of coppers, which, seeing as the previous owners are probably eaten, half of which he pockets, the other half he sets aside to be spread evenly through the party later.

Harold happens across the Danann as he is just sorting through the coins. The Invarrian studies the dwelling carefully, wordlessly accepting the money from the ranger.

"Look at this." - Kel'Serrar, holding up one of a handful of teeth scattered around the corner of the house where the wolves forced entrance. To the ranger's trained eye, it appears as if the wolves literally chewed through the wall.
"That is odd..." - Harold, peering at the fang in Kel'Serrar's hand.
The walls themselves are mud slabs built over a light wooden framework. Sturdy enough, and will keep the wind out, but not so strong to be impregnable to wolves. At least exceptionally determined wolves.
To Kel'Serrar's experienced eye, the wolf-fang in his hand appears quite rotten. It is something he would expect to see in the mouth of a year-old corpse rather than a moving creature.

Tremor passes the Invarrian and Danann on his way to Magdalyn's house on the outskirts of the village. As he does so, Kel'Serrar throws a small coinpurse at the Dwergar who catches it, nods his thanks and keeps walking.

The ramshackle door of Magdalyn's house is still intact, as is the rest of the somewhat dilapidated dwelling. Tremor knocks upon the door, causing it to fall inwards with a thud.
"Ugh, just lift it up and come on in. Fix it up when you leave." - Magdalyn, exasperated.
The Dwergar gingerly picks the door up and sets it against the wall before heading into the woman's main room.
"Ah, Tremor. You survived the night I see." - Magdalyn, brightly.
"Yes I did. How did you survive?" - Tremor, suspicious.
"By not dying." - Magdalyn, raising an eyebrow.
Tremor is unconvinced.
"They know better than to attack me. Now come master dwarf, you can help me. I need someone to lift this. I started work on it yesterday, but it's all **** now. Come on now, take it out and empty it for me, there's a good chap." - Magdalyn, referring to a full cauldron on the floor.
Tremor takes it and lifts it with a small amount of difficulty, carrying it outside. He hesitates once out the door.
"Just go ahead, tip it on the garden. Won't hurt it." - Magdalyn, referring to the twisted, brown growths protruding from the patches of bright violet soil on the ground.
Mentally shrugging, the Dwergar pours the oozing grey sludge of the cauldron onto the ground.
"Disgusting. Looks like my mother's cooking." - Magdalyn, sniffing. "Right, take that back in for me."
The Dwergar does as he is told and carries the cauldron back inside and setting it into the recesses in the stone floor. With his task done, Tremor looks back to the Selkye woman.
"So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" - Magdalyn.

"What happened last night? The innkeeper was not very forthcoming about events." - Tremor, sitting at Magdalyn's table, finally having found a seat in these lands which he does not swing his legs like a child while sitting.
"The Wolf King sent his minions. You're relatively intelligent, so you probably got that already. You know about the Wolf King? No? Ah right, well then, he's an ancient sorcerer living in the woods who has the people of these lands caught under his 'evil spell!" - Magdalyn, wiggling her fingers at the last words and laughing. Obviously she's not taking the situation too seriously, despite the fact that her next-door neighbours were eaten just last night.
"Look, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. He doesn't seem to be able to get them riled up enough to attack me properly. So I'm just going to continue as I have done since I came here." - Magdalyn, more serious now.
"Can you help me then? If I go to take down this sorcerer, how could you help?" - Tremor.
"I do not know, I could potentially patch you up after you've taken a few hits... That's about it I'd say." - Magdalyn, apologetic.
"Why do they not attack you?" - Tremor, hoping for some of that stuff instead I guess.
"I think they're scared of me." - Magdalyn, simply.
"Why?" - Tremor.
"Because I am me." - Magdalyn, with finality. She then hits her head with the palm of her hand.
"No wait, this might be the reason!" - Magdalyn, springing up and heading into the room directly across the hallway.
Tremor follows her and is amazed at the shelves full of completed potions and ingredients which are being stockpiled. The Selkye woman snatches up a vial from one of the shelves before ushering the Dwergar out of the room and onto the road through the village.
"Yes, this might be it." - Magdalyn, before throwing the vial into the centre of the road.
A three metre square section of the road erupts in a blindingly bright fireball before receding into nothing, scorching the mud.
"Yes, that may be it. I hope you enjoyed that, I only have three of them left now." - Magdalyn, absent-mindedly.
"How would we make more?" - Tremor, getting to the point.
"Right. Yes, well, I, uh, don't actually have the ingredient at hand at the moment...." - Magdalyn, looking at the ground, somewhat bashful.
"They're in the woods, aren't they?" - Tremor, scowling.
"Uh.... well.... yes...." - Magdalyn, scuffing her shoe in the mud.
"Write me a list of what is needed. I shall take it to my companions and we'll try to find it." - Tremor, coming to a decision.
"Uh, that would be helpful. Who knows, we might even be able to mount a bit of an active defence next time they come knocking." - Magdalyn, with a laugh, having brightened considerably after Tremor offered to find her ingredients.

The Selkye woman runs inside and emerges with one of her books, riffling through pages and pages of spidery handwriting. She goes through six books, growing more and more irate with every new volume. Placing the sixth back in the shelf with some annoyance, she slaps her hand against the wood. A book falls off, which she picks up and flicks through.
"Aha! This is it!" - Magdalyn, ripping out the page with the instructions, crumpling it and throwing it to Tremor.
"Okay now, out you get. I've got work to do and you're in my way. Go on, out with you." - Magdalyn, moving back to her storeroom.
"Okay, okay I'm leaving." - Tremor, with a smile. The Dwergar picks up the woman's door and sets it back into place across the doorway.
"There, I even put the door back." - Tremor, half to himself.
"Thank you!" - Magdalyn, from inside the dwelling.
Chuckling to himself, Tremor heads back to his other companions.

Throughout Tremor's misadventures, the rest of the party have been investigating the most recent break-in, Maebh and Breanna having joined Kel'Serrar and Harold.
"Hmm, no scraps of clothing, no pieces of the victims. So either they've been dragged off, eaten whole or..." - Harold, trailing off.
"Or what?" - Maebh.
"Or they've turned into wolves themselves." - Harold, quietly.
Not so long ago, some of them may well have laughed at the idea, but now, even in the light of day, they can't help but shake off that such a thing might be possible.

Tremor soon joins them in the house, standing around a particularly large blood splatter on the floor.
"Do you have anything to tell us?" - Harold, to Tremor.
"Yes I do. I know what's going on here." - Tremor.
"People are dying and being eaten by wolves?" - Kel'Serrar, sarcastic.
"No, it's a sorcerer apparently. I went and saw the witch and she was far more helpful than the tavernkeeper. There is a sorcerer plaguing the town. Um, the wolves really dislike her, which is a positive. Oh, and she's given me a list of things she needs to make well, explosive vials of stuff. Firebombs! She's only got three left, but she can make more if she has the ingredients." - Tremor, explaining the situation.
"And what are these ingredients?" - Kel'Serrar.

Wanting to avoid any major issues with regards to not actually having names made up on the spot for explosive tubers of the forest, I informed the players here that the page simply had what was required and that both Kel'Serrar with his woodland knowledge and Tremor with his newfound herblore would be able to recognise them. The players understood and moved on, which I do think is the key to dealing with issues with a particular GM.

For instance, I know a fair bit about combat and medieval weaponry, however town layout and botany are two things I am not as well versed in. So I pinch things when I can and admit my faults when I can't. Players understand this and move on in my experience, and good fun can be had by all.

More to come. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-20, 11:15 AM
I would never lie to you lot. On with the game. :smallbiggrin:

"Okay, there they are. I suggest you all go looking for them while I stay here. Having seen what these things are capable of, I can see that come nightfall, these people are in great danger. I can help them. My plan is to obtain as much wood and iron as possible and start turning the tavern into a fortress." - Tremor, handing over the page with the ingredients and explaining his plan.
"So we traipse around in the dark forest looking for mushrooms and the dwarf stays safe in the village?" - Kel'Serrar, sceptical.
"Come nightfall, if I don't do this, none of will be safe." - Tremor, simply.
"Are you going to let him do this?" - Kel'Serrar, turning to Maebh.
The mage considers it for a moment.
"You're going to owe us." - Maebh, to the Dwergar.
"Agreed. I will owe you all one favour each." - Tremor, shrugging.
"Well, first favour, I have five arrowheads, can you attach shafts to them?" - Kel'Serrar, pulling the arrowheads forth from his satchel.
"Sure. I can't fletch them, but I can attach the shafts." - Tremor, taking the arrowheads.
"More of the job done. I'll find a fletcher. Regardless, it's still not my problem." - Kel'Serrar, smirking.
"Okay, good luck my friends, I'm going to get to work." - Tremor, taking his leave.

I gave Wings a basic overview of the tavern's floorplan and then tossed him a pencil and told him to start drawing in his fortifications while I took the rest of the group through their journey into the forest to find the crap they're after.

For the sake of continuity, all of Tremor's preparations can go here.

Tremor heads to the tavern and takes out his newly purchased writing implements to begin sketching his fortifications. Upon finishing this he heads around the village, first talking to the innkeeper and getting the man's permission to make his alterations.

Well actually he approaches the innkeeper, gets frustrated with the man's recalcitrance and knocks the man out. The innkeeper finds himself oddly compelled to not hinder the dwarf.
"The power of unconsciousness compels you." - Sins.
"Anyone else in here who wants to survive the night, you'd be better off helping me than getting in my way." - Tremor, to those men in the tavern. A few men had stood up to intervene on the innkeeper's behalf, but the engineer's steely gaze cows them.

Tremor then sets to gathering up a small team of stout-hearted men who will follow him to the eaves of the forest to cut down some trees for wood. He gets his hands some wood-cutting saws too, to help with this endeavour.

"So, on a scale crap to ten, how crap is this plan?" - Kel'Serrar, to Harold.
"Well.... I've dealt with worse ones in my time." - Harold, thinking.
"It's comforting to know that I don't need to run faster than whatever attacks us, only faster than you." - Kel'Serrar, clapping Harold on the shoulder and finishing his preparations.

Before they leave, Maebh purchases a time-keeping candle to help them manage the time they are outside the village. The candle has notches in the side, each notch corresponding to an hour. In their preparations, Harold decides to take Amadeus and Bach out into the forest, while Breanna slinks ahead, Wolfgang by her side and dagger in hand. Her task is to make markings in the bark of the occasional tree she passes so as not to lose their way in the tangled woods. For his part, Toirneach follows Maebh warily, unhappy about going into the forest, but unwilling to be parted from the mage.

The forest around Dreven is dark and brooding with exceptionally thick undergrowth, twigs, roots and thorns entangling the companions as they forge their path under the canopy. After almost two hours of travelling, their diligence pays off, and the companions begin to find significant amounts of the items needed.

"Three successes on finding them, so now Intelligence Checks from Kel'Serrar to see if they're the right ones or if they're just similar in appearance."
"Oh great, we're screwed." - Sins, before passing all three checks.
"Well what do you know? I know my weed." - Sins.

Not long after their first discovery, a low, gravelly howl can be heard from the north in the direction of Dove Mountain. At the sound of the howl, Amadeus rears and strains against the lead-rope in Harold's hand. With a quiet snarl, the Invarrian manages to keep the horse from bolting and soothes it with some quiet words.

Maebh drops into a defensive crouch, spear held before her and magic writhing in her grasp. Kel'Serrar moves up behind her, bow in hand and an arrow nocked and ready. He has heard many wolves over his years in the wilds, and that was like no wolf he had ever heard before. Whatever made that noise sounded like it had its throat torn out.

Ahead of the rest of her companions, Breanna simply crouches against a tree truck, one hand on back of Wolfgang's neck, calming the young marcwolf.

Minutes go by and there is no answering howl. The woods are silent now. No birds fly overhead or sing in the canopy. All is still, save the brave band looking for herbs.

"I think we should go back. We'll call Breanna back and head to Dreven." - Maebh, voicing her opinion.
"If you can cover me, I can try to sense any movement around us." - Kel'Serrar, making a usggestion.
"I will cover him." - Harold, to Maebh.
Maebh consults her candle. Only a little over two hours have passed.
"Hmm, we haven't been gone long and this stuff is supposed to help us. Okay, Kel'Serrar, you do what you can. Harold, guard him. Don't either of you get eaten and warn us as soon as you know something's coming. I will find Breanna and the two of us will keep searching for ingredients. We will stay out here another hour and then begin heading back." - Maebh, coming to a decision and commanding the group.

The mage moves forward and eventually finds Breanna, softly calling out to her until the Leathe breaks cover. The two of them study the ingredients already discovered and then start to search anew, this time with a far better idea of what they are searching for. They find more ingredients, although Maebh notices that the flowers of some of the plants being harvested are not exactly the same as the first example they found. She hopes that they're the same plant and throws them in the sack regardless.

Meanwhile Kel'Serrar sits against a tree and starts to meditate on his surroundings, Harold standing over him, sword in one hand and Amadeus' lead-rope in the other. Bach sits at his master's feet, looking around at the shadowed undergrowth with some apprehension. Toirneach meanwhile just stands apart from all of them, staring off into the undergrowth which Maebh disappeared into.

Unfortunately, despite all his best efforts Kel'Serrar cannot attune himself. These woods are not natural and the more he tries to become one with them, the more they unsettle him. It's no use. He just can't do it now, jittery as he is.

Thus it is not Kel'Serrar, but Harold and his keen ears which can hear that the dead silence of the forest is in fact that. Dead silence. The only noises to be heard are those of his companions in the undergrowth, however when he closes his eyes and really focusses he can hear, beyond the forest, faint howling. Hundreds of wolves howling over the top of one another until each individual howl is lost in the mash of sound and then carried down the mountain by the wind and into the forest to Harold's ears.

The sound chills him to the bone.

The Invarrian takes a deep sniff of the air and considers what he can sense. Death and decay. Damp wood and moss. Mud and leaf-litter. Nothing living.

And then he smells something he recognises. The same smells of rotting flesh from the woods around Summer Hill. The smell he associates with one thing.

Corpsewalkers.

Except not. Where the corpsewalkers smelt of death and disease and rotting flesh, this new smell has an unclean acrid tang to it. Almost a strong, acidic smoke. The Invarrian is puzzled, and tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Ranging ahead, Breanna and Maebh find a crevice between two standing boulders with an abundance of one of the herbs growing in between. They harvest as much as they dare before heading back to Kel'Serrar and Harold, Wolfgang roving ahead of them through the woods, following the Leathe's signs, first to the Dwergar and Invarrian and then on to Dreven.

Once the trees are cut down, Tremor organises teams which work to shape and position the logs. At least two logs are set aside to be carved into sharp clusters of wooden spikes which are driven into the gaps between the walls and rooves of both the tavern and the stable, to prevent the wolves from clambering up the walls and then through the thatch.

Two more logs are used to create two barricades to form a chokepoint in the common room of the inn. Tremor also enlists Ingir's aid to create iron braces for the doors, barring them shut. The only way into the tavern is through the kitchen door on the side of the building. He also pays the blacksmith for the use of his forge for a short time, creating a universal key to his exact specifications.

The first successful use of the Invention Skill. Tremor has drawn out the blueprints for such a key at an earlier date, but only now has he had the chance to actually forge it. The key works with a flat 80% chance to work as a key for any mundane lock.

The last of the logs are used to create a walled off section of the common room for the citizens to sleep in. The stairs to the second floor are broken up for firewood, replaced by a swiftly fashioned ladder which can be kicked down if in need. The ladder should also be impossible for the wolves to climb.
"What in the name of the three gods happened to my stairs!?" - Innkeeper, once he comes around.
He is roundly ignored, the populace impressed by Tremor's enthusiasm for his task and his hands-on approach to the work at hand.

It is around this stage in the work when Tremor's companions return from their foray into the woods, rattled by the experience, but alive and critically, bearing the fruits of their labour. They return to find that the humble tavern is now a fortress. Indeed, the sign hanging above the door is just now being repainted, on Tremor's suggestion. Emblazoned proudly on the wooden sign is a white silhouette of the tavern on a red field, a scroll painted beneath the symbol bearing the words, The Fortress.

"Good work here my friend." - Harold, clapping Tremor on the shoulder and looking on at the masterpiece.
"Thank you, but our work here is not finished. Maebh, I must ask, can you please ward the side door. Let me show you." - Tremor, guiding Maebh around the side so she can ward the area around the side door with her magic to provide early warning if the wolves manage to break through.

With that done, the companions hand over their findings to Tremor so he can take them to Magdalyn.
"Ah great, I can make more from all this. Thank you!" - Magdalyn, excited.
"So, how many vials can you make now?" - Tremor, gruff.
"Oh, just one." - Magdalyn, absent mindedly.
"Ah! What!?" - LD, outraged.
"She is joking right?" - Ladyhawk.
"I have no idea."
"The Leathe reckons she's possum-ly insane." - Sins.
"Just, stop. Please." - Ladyhawk, laughing.
"Hey, he told us to 'paws' the insults earlier." - LD, getting in on the action.
As a side note, before this spoiler, this write-up was sitting on exactly 6,666 words.
The witch takes the ingredients inside and starts working.
Tremor takes to a new task, hefts his hammer and starts to try and "fix" the witch's door. He hammers at it for a while, but soon gives up. The door might be fixed, but he just doesn't care anymore.
"Time for a drink now." - Tremor, wiping his brow.

Wings failed his Woodcrafting Check three times in a row, on the third forgetting what he rolled, only that he failed. We took that on board when describing how Tremor went about it.

As an aside, Sins made an awful Australian joke here, which a lot of international readers may not understand.
"And now we're definitely in the land down under, cause there are men at work." - Sins, very proud.
We laughed, although in hindsight, cringing may have been the more appropriate response.

Harold finds a quiet spot and practices his sword-drills, Amadeus safely ensconced in the stable and Bach looking on. He gathers a small crowd of the townspeople, watching as he goes through his forms.

Maebh meanwhile sits in the corner of Toirneach's stall in the stables, mentally preparing herself for the night ahead. Her thoughts drift to the golden dagger in the general store and she realises something. Standing, she farewells Toirneach and heads off to find Kel'Serrar and Breanna to explain her plan.

Kel'Serrar sits alone in the corner of the common room of The Fortress, running a whetstone over the blade of his new sword. He has never used a sword before, far more familiar with bow and knife, but the extra reach the sword provides should prove useful this night.

Breanna plays with Wolfgang, but even the usually bubbly Leathe is reserved. She knows what is coming.

Tremor remains busy and after buying himself a drink from the bruised barkeep at The Fortress, he heads around the village trying to round up everyone to bring them to safety. To each, he delivers the same ultimatum.
"Come with me or you will die." - Tremor.
He is mainly successful, save for two people. The first is Ingir, the blacksmith.
"No, master dwarf. I have laboured my whole life, and the results of that labour are here in this home. I will not let them drag it away." - Ingir, adamant.
"What would wolves want with quality ironwork?" - Tremor, chortling.
"How would I know? But it is not only people who have been dragged into the night, but belongings too." - Ingir, angry.
"Very well, as you wish. I hope I will see you on the morrow." - Tremor, resigning himself to the situation and finding someone else to hassle about it.

The Dwergar heads to the witch's house and sees the door he attempted to fix earlier has fallen off its hinges completely. It seems to always be in a constant state of dilapidation. Tremor walks to it and knocks. It falls through the doorway to land flat on the floor.
"Damn it all, that f****** door! Oh, Tremor, you're back! What can I do for you?" - Magdalyn, cheerful. Her dress is blackened and her face smudged with black, sparkling dust.
"Can I persuade you to leave here and come back to the inn with me?" - Tremor, pleading.
Magdalyn's eyes seem to wander off over Tremor's shoulder, before snapping back into focus.
"I'm sorry, what was that? Something about the inn?" - Magdalyn, cheerful and certainly not listening.
"Yes, will you come back with me?" - Tremor, exasperated.
"Uh, well, no. I have work to do here. If you will excuse me." - Magdalyn, distracted.
"Have you finished the explosives?" - Tremor.
"Oh yes, I finished it ages ago. Here, takes this one too." - Magdalyn, absent-mindedly handing over two firebombs before heading back to her cauldron.
Shaking his head, Tremor leaves the dwelling.
The party has started to refer to these vials as Vials of Boom-sauce. I approve of the name.

The Dwergar then enlists Harold's help to organise the populace into work-teams. The two of them gather volunteers to man the barricades in the common room while the women and children start making spear-hafts and quick, ready shields for the militia. The two of them obtain a handful of spearheads from Ingir, along with the shields they sold him earlier.

Command Check from Harold. Easy pass.

Harold quickly realises that these men, accustomed to working as part of wood-cutting teams, are well equipped for working together as a group. In no time at all, Harold has them working in a close approximation to a shieldwall. Tremor adds his own expertise, picking up the faults in the formation.

The militia is ten strong and armed with shield and spear, along with a scattering of other weapons, hatchets, daggers and the like. Hopefully they will last the night.

Having gathered both Breanna and Kel'Serrar, Maebh informs them of the dagger and how the storekeeper was loath to part with it. With the entirety of the village in the inn, a break and enter would be easy to cover, but the mage is too easily recognisable. Kel'Serrar and Breanna however, well they could do it without raising attention, especially if they waited until twilight to make their move.

Breanna picks the lock on the backdoor under the cover of the growing darkness, cracking it with no difficulty. She slinks inside with Kel'Serrar, both wielding daggers.

They are met with pile after pile of accumulated junk.
"Get me tobacco! Feed my addiction!" - Wings, whispering.
Searching through all the junk, Breanna focusses on finding the golden dagger, while Kel'Serrar starts gathering all the vessels of oil, pitch and flammable liquids that he can find, stuffing a swiftly pilfered burlap sack. Breanna finds a bolt of cloth, wrapped around a dagger resembling the one Maebh described. The Leathe pockets it.

The two of them also grab as much dried meat as they can conceivably stuff in their sacks before making for the exit, Breanna swiftly pocketing some exotic feathers from the front counter before she does so. They take the sacks through the kitchen of The Fortress, leaving them on the second floor and using the bustling of the preparations to mask their purpose.

"Oh, Tremor. I happen to have twelve casks of oil and pitch. I won't tell you why I have them, but they're your problem now." - Kel'Serrar, with a wry grim.

Night falls. A few brave men go out and light the watch-torches before running back to the safety of The Fortress. Those same men dig a hasty trench just inside the kitchen door, filling it with Kel'Serrar's pilfered oil, the plan being to light it as soon as the wolves break in. The companions take their positions, the mage and duellist having left their horses in the stable, the marcwolves in the common room, tethered to a table.

I asked here about the marcwolves and where they were.
"So, Bach and.... Wolfgang von Markus-"
"Every time you say it is a victory in itself." - Sins.

Maebh sits up at the second floor window with Kel'Serrar, the ranger about to use his preternatural senses to detect where the enemy will be. Tremor and Breanna sit in the kitchen with two vials of boom-sauce. They intend to hold the kitchen for as long as they can before falling back past the barricade using the cover of fire. They just hope that doing so will not burn their Fortress down. Harold meanwhile stands in the middle of his formation of spear-armed militia, fully armoured and ready for the coming battle.

The sun has completely set and the darkness has crept completely over Dreven. To the north, the thunder begins anew. The shadows close in around the torches in an unnatural fashion and even the keen-eyed Danann find it difficult to see more than two feet away from the flames.

The militia are on edge, hands gripping their weapons tightly.
"Stand down men. The mage has warded the doors with her magic. We will now when they come. For now, just try to relax and stay calm." - Harold, commanding the men to steady.
He is successful, to a point.

From their vantage point, Maebh and Kel'Serrar can see vague, indistinct shapes hurtling through the darkness and into the village. Then there is a gurgled howl and the sound of rending wood coming from the smithy. A man's startled yell and the sounds of steel meeting flesh and crunching bone can be heard before stopping suddenly, leaving only a dragging noise.

But despite having taken their prey, the wolves remain.

From inside the stable, Toirneach can only hear what is happening outside. His panicked emotions start to trickle through to Maebh, and where she sits, staring out the window, she cannot help but be affected. Her breathing quickens and she shivers, but not with cold.

Despite his companion's discomfort, Kel'Serrar slips into his trance-like state again, the wraith-like vision of his mind's eye showing him the wolves that are tearing through the village. The foremost members of the pack suddenly stop, before turning back.

The Fortress is now surrounded by a mass of wolves. They do seem to be ignoring the stables, which is all to the companions' good.

In the common room, the mood of the civilians is poor. They know what happened to Ingir and despite the example provided to them by Harold, they start to get jittery.
"Hold men!" - Harold, noticing the way they are shrinking back from the barricade.
The men are momentarily calmed by Harold's barked command, but this forced calm is swiftly replaced with nervousness once more.
"Incoming! They're surrounding us!" - Kel'Serrar, calling down to Harold's militia.
"Pardon the pun." - Sins.
It took everyone a moment to realise he meant, "Inn-coming!"

The main door shakes as wolf after wolf slams into it at some speed, trying to break it down with force of numbers. These creatures care nothing for physical pain and will continue to batter their way in until physically incapable of moving. More wolves scratch and chew at the walls, or leap and attempt to scrabble up the walls and into the ceiling.

But all are unsuccessful at first, thanks to Tremor's fortification efforts.

The kitchen door however, is the weak point. Needing to provide an access point for people to get inside, the kitchen door was not as securely barred as the main door. Nor for that matter, is it made of such strong wood. In minutes they have managed to force breaches in the door, snarling and clawing at the wood until it starts to splinter.

Tremor takes up his spear and begins to strike at snouts and paws, but his efforts to dissuade them are unsuccessful, the spear ripping into rotting flesh, but as far as Tremor can tell, the wolves are ignoring his strikes. Behind him, Breanna hefts a lit lantern, ready to hurl it into the trench of oil.

Eventually, one wolf manages to force its way through. For Tremor, there is an instant of snapping jaws and glowing green eyes before it is engulfed in flames as Breanna hurls the lantern. The walls of the kitchen are thick, sturdy wood and will take sustained flames to catch. The oil on the other hand lights up instantly, as does the wolf.

And it is enraged. Flesh melting off its bones, flames wreathing it in light and jaws snapping in rabid fury, it launches itself at Tremor.

Breanna, having shielded her eyes as she through the lantern has spied what Tremor did not. In the wolf's ribcage, approximately where its heart would be is a small, glowing green gemstone. And so she leaps forward, dagger flashing into the wolf's ribs.
"I'm going to stab it in the stones! No, wait, that didn't come out right..." - LD, to our laughter.
The stone shatters and the wolf falls to the floor, limp and thoroughly dead, the glowing, murderous light in its eyes fading. Before her eyes, the molten flesh disintegrates into sludge, leaving only charred bones.
"In other words, not even worth eating." - Sins.
But she and Tremor have only a moment to marvel at this because more wolves are forcing their way through the door and flames. The Dwergar grabs Breanna around the waist, slings her over his shoulder and tumbles over the bar, hurling her into the safety of the militia as he runs to the chokepoint.
"They seem to be animated by stones in the ribcages. Shatter them and they die." - Tremor to Harold, catching his breath.
"Hear that men, they can be killed! Remember the drills and aim for the heart." - Harold, exhorting his men.
There's not quite a hearty cheer, but at least they're determined. Together, the militia lower their spears and raise their shields, ready for the onslaught.

Sitting on the floor of the second level of The Fortress, Kel'Serrar tracks the movement of the wolves as they launch themselves at the building. He can see them all, the pack numbering well over a hundred and he wonders how they will survive the night.

Staring out the window, the already jittery Maebh is startled by a wolf launching itself up at the window from below. Tremor's spikes installed on the top of the walls impale the wolves as they hurl themselves up, but the creatures do not seem dissuaded, and in fact, after several attempts, start to pull the contraptions down with sheer bodyweight. Some wolves even become stuck, impaled on the spikes, still snapping and snarling in fury, eyes aglow with green fire. Their living, but trapped, bodies form further footholds for more wolves from below. One wolf, clambers up the chain of bodies and clamps its jaws around one of the bars of the window.

Despite the situation, and knowing that Kel'Serrar is helpless in his current state, Maebh seizes up with panic. With a strangled yelp, she breaks through the fear and blasts the wolf from the window with the sound of a thunderclap and a focussed gust of wind. The creature loses its grip and there is an ugly, wet snap from below as it hits the ground.

On the first level, the horde of wolves come tearing into the common room and are met by the militia guarding the chokepoint.
"Stand fast!" - Harold, to his men.
And they do.
Where the first wave of wolves come at them, the men push back, shields presenting a solid wall to the onrushing beasts. They even manage to put a fair few down, more than would be expected of a handful of hastily gathered and trained men, spears punching into the heart-stones and shattering them.

Having withstood the first wave, the men hold firm behind their shields, just pushing against the horde. For their part, the wolves, in their ravenous fury are actually doing more damage to the other beasts around them, ripping into limbs and tearing off hunks of charred flesh. And then, everything changes.
There is an eerie horn-blast from outside, two clear, consecutive notes ringing into the air. The wolves prick their ears and pause their attack, before rushing back out the kitchen door. The men, seeing their foe turning tail, make to pursue, but hurriedly barked orders from Harold, Tremor and Breanna keep them back.

Upstairs, Maebh stabs through the window at any wolves still impaled on the spikes, until they either fall to the ground, or the green light fades from their eyes.

To Kel'Serrar's ghost-like vision, the wolves seem to have retreated past the outskirts of the village, but he cannot see if they are gathering for another assault, or if they have been recalled for the night. He remains in his trance, just in case.

On the first level, the bulk of the wolves having retreated, the companions deem it safe enough now to break formation and they and their militia disperse through The Fortress, dispatching any stragglers which had been incapacitated or slowed in the fighting.

The initial assault has been seen off, with no losses to the militia however the defences have been damaged.

The long night will continue, but the companions have earned their small moment of peace.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up:
This was, quite honestly, a great session as far as I'm concerned. Everyone did their part, one character got to play a mini-game while the others contributed to a side-quest and they actually progressed some way in the plot.

We also had a fair bit of action, a lot of drama and some horror and suspense.

I personally had a lot of fun and I hope the players did too.

I just wanted to ask if there would be any interest in the character profiles going up for your viewing pleasure? I'm considering it, but it would be a fairly involved process, so I just wanted to find out if there was any interest first.

What else? Oh yes, I am going to start putting excerpts from in-game texts in front of the write-ups from now on, hopefully providing an incentive for the players to actually read them before we play as they contain some important information I may not have shared yet or made clear was important.

Okay, I still have a mini-session to post up too, played by LD and Opal the other day. It's set a couple of years before 3 Coins and will detail the previous exploits of Opal's character, Therressa Bannimagen.

The session itself was just to give her a run-down of the system and an understanding of how table-top games work. As I understand it, Opal has been involved in freeform PBP games before, but no table-top ones. I believe she had fun and both girls impressed me personally with how they approached it, LD jumping in admirably as an experienced gamer.

Okay, that's enough from me. I hope you all enjoyed this massive update, as it is by far the largest write-up I have delivered. This is actually the second night in a row I have spent working on it until after 2 am, so I hope it was worth it. Very close to 10,000 words in this chapter alone.

Good night and thanks for reading.

Sartharina
2014-04-21, 11:33 PM
Wow... this was pretty awesome. Maybe I shouldn't have been reading about nightmare-inducing undead wolves at midnight during a thunderstorm, though.

ReaderAt2046
2014-04-22, 05:45 AM
Yes, I would love to see character profiles.

"If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..."

Also, may I sig this?

Amidus Drexel
2014-04-22, 08:45 AM
Awesome as always! :smallcool:

The bit with the absentminded witch reminds me of Matoya from 8-bit theater for some reason... :smallamused:


I just wanted to ask if there would be any interest in the character profiles going up for your viewing pleasure? I'm considering it, but it would be a fairly involved process, so I just wanted to find out if there was any interest first.

What else? Oh yes, I am going to start putting excerpts from in-game texts in front of the write-ups from now on, hopefully providing an incentive for the players to actually read them before we play as they contain some important information I may not have shared yet or made clear was important.


Sure! I'd love to see those.

Heheheheh :smallamused:

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-22, 11:39 AM
Well I'm very glad there's enjoyment to be gotten out of it. :)

Reader, feel free to sig away.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-25, 11:30 AM
Mini-Session 1.1: Caves and Conundrums

Okay, welcome to the mini-session which will describe some stuff about Therressa's past.

The Northlands of Norbayne are a wild, cold and windy place, especially the coastline near the Norstrand archipelago.

Therressa Bannimagen finds herself in the small village of Snowshard. Her overwhelming impression is very grey and very snowy, with timber buildings.
"Just like home." - Therressa, surveying her surroundings, having just arrived with her horse, Augustus.

Snowshard's population is mainly made up of Northmenn, Midlanders with small pockets of Dwergar, Feartarbh and Invarrian habitation.

Therressa, thrill-seeker that she is, wishes to explore the area and look at climbing Brokeclaw mountain, which overshadows the village. She has just stabled Augustus outside and is about to head into a tavern called the Cracked Flagon, when she runs into an old acquaintance who has just arrived by ship.

Cue the introduction of LD's one off character, Assar Eilert, and Invarrian Ranger. Sadly, this character had a very impressive backstory, which is unfortunate as it is unlikely that she will ever be used again after this session.

Name: Assar Eilert
Race: Invarrian
Primary Class: Ranger
Age: 27 years old. As such Assar is considered to be in her prime adventuring years.
Eye Colour: Green.
Hair Colour: Neatly groomed, shiny black.
Birthsign: The Wolf
[SPOILER]Trying to tie down these free-spirited individuals is often frustrating for those around them as Wolves are happiest on the move, exploring new cultures and ideas. Freedom loving, optimistic and honest, Wolves are notorious for their lack of tact however they do tend to work well in groups, both as leaders and members of the pack.
Height: 5' 8"
Weight: 130 lbs

Assar carries a longbow, two sabres, a collection of throwing axes and a dagger as her wargear. Her adventurer's kit includes a backpack with three torches, twelve feet of coiled rope, a spare knife, a tinderbox and a one-man portable tent.

Very short background info.

Assar hails from a small fishing village on the east coast of Varr. She was an only child, and was raised solely by her father, a poacher, who taught her how to survive on her own. When her father died, she ran away to Norbayne, working in several northern villages as a contracted poacher. Before she left Varr, in her early years, she was relatively close to the Bannimagen family.


"Whoa, Therressa Bannimagen! It is a small world!" - Assar, surprised.
"Do I know you?" - Therressa, looking up at the black-furred Invarrian.
"Yes, I was friends with one of your brothers, several years back. On Varr." - Assar, with a friendly grin.
"Oh yes, I remember. Assar, was it not?" - Therressa, nodding.
"Yes, I was the creepy one. Everyone shunned me for my pelt. We never really talked that much unfortunately." - Assar, smiling.
"That would be why I don't really remember you. But it wasn't cause you're black." - Therressa, nodding.
Heaps of laughter here. LD's inclusion of racism in her background was completely spontaneous.
The two Invarrians walk into the tavern together.

The general mood of the tavern is pleasant. It is far warmer inside, several woodfires placed strategically around the room to keep everyone toasty.
"Come in, come in. Tell me, what would you like?" - Innkeeper, to the two Invarrians who have just walked inside.
Therressa and Assar walk to the bar, Therressa leaning on the wooden counter.
"I would like a barrel of wine please. Preferably red." - Therressa, with a wink.
"Just water please. Someone needs to be sober to keep her out of trouble." - Assar, grinning.
"Make it two barrels actually. I may need more." - Therressa, thoughtful.
"This is what I'm getting at." - Assar, rolling her eyes.
The innkeeper grabs a pitcher, fills it with water and hands it to Assar.
"I do hope you can afford these barrels." - Innkeeper, suspicious.
With a laugh, Therressa throws a small purse of coppers at him. The innkeeper jingles the purse with a raised eyebrow and pockets it.
"There's more than enough in there." - Therressa, leaning back in her chair.
The innkeeper heads down to the cellar to get the barrels.

"So, how have you been for the last, hmm, ten years?" - Therressa, to Assar.
"Hmm, well Father died. Left home. Went adventuring, seen the world. Met some people, climbed some mountains. I've seen some impressive things." - Assar, rattling off her achievements.
"I bet I've climbed more mountains." - Therressa, with a laugh.
"So what have you been doing?" - Assar, taking a mouthful of water.
"Well nothing much was happening at home and I decided to head out into the world. Climbed mountains, did some mercenary work, seen some things too. Just trying to enjoy myself really." - Therressa.
They pass some time in companionable conversation, eventually deciding to split the payment for a room in the tavern and to head off to Brokeclaw mountain in the morning, Assar joining Therressa in her quest to see the top.
Of course, Therressa plans to add to the feat by doing so drunk.

Having decided what will be done in the morning, the two Invarrians retire for the night.

The next morning, one wakes up considerably happier than the other. Assar is refreshed and ready to take on the day ahead. Therressa, well...
"Why won't the sun just shut up? I need some brandy to wash away the pain." - Therressa, hungover.
She heads downstairs and powers through her porridge before walking outside and plunging her head into the snow as a refresher. Assar just stands behind her, grinning madly.

With a last goodbye to August, Therressa joins Assar on the northern outskirts of Snowshard, ready to start climbing. According to local legend, the mountain has never been scaled successfully and Therressa intends to be the first, with her newly purchased cask of wine at her back.

The two make their way over the tundra before reaching the foothills of Brokeclaw mountain. The foothills are easy work, experienced travellers that they are. But the further they go, the harder the going gets.
"When the going gets tough, the tough go downhill." - LD.
"And when they finish rolling, start drinking." - Opal.
The ground steadily becomes more and more treacherous as the companions progress, icy patches underfoot threatening to overturn them.
Climbing Checks from Assar and Therressa. Both pass at this early stage.
At about midday they decide to break for a short while, taking a swift meal, a well-deserved rest and another swig of wine.
Another Climbing Check to get higher. Assar passes, Therressa fails.
Between the hangover and the extra weight of the wine cask, Therressa begins to struggle. She slips.
I made a deal with Opal. One Luck point and she keeps the wine or she ditches the wine to lessen the load.
With some swearing and gnashing of teeth, she lets the barrel of wine fall. A waste, but luckily she does still have two skins full of ale. So things could be worse.
"For the sake of the recording, I rolled my eyes here." - LD
After that, the journey passes rather uneventfully, save Therressa's constant mumbling about it being such a waste and her worry that she will be haunted by a lonely, abandoned wine cask in her dreams.

The companions reach a flat plateau, suitable for making camp. The sun will not be long in the sky and so they decide to set a camp rather than risk a broken neck in the dark. Assar pitches a small tent and lights a small fire using some of the wood she has carried up the mountain, while Therressa just wraps herself in a very thick blanket and tarp, trusting to the fire and her Invarrian constitution.
Opal wanted to stress her being somewhat, "ditzy." Fair enough.

In the morning, once again Assar wakes up considerably more comfortable than Therressa. Wiping the snow off her face where it has settled during the night, the warrior fixes the two of them a swift breakfast using the fire.

After their breakfast, they begin their climbing once more, navigating their way without too many difficulties. After another two hours of climbing, they reach another shelf in the mountainside, not too far from the peak. However, what sets this shelf apart from the others they have passed already is that tucked against the rock-wall of the mountain, is an abandoned campfire. Assar deduces it is recent, perhaps only two days old. There is also a dark cave leading into the mountain.
"Hmm, why are we here again?" - Assar, pulling forth a torch and tinderbox from her pack.
"Because I was bored." - Therressa, also bringing out her own torch for the ranger to light.
"You may have a torch, but you don't have a fear of small, dark, enclosed spaces..." - Opal, trailing off. We weren't sure where she was going with this.
"But then, neither does Therressa. Let's go!" - Opal, realising that she didn't really know either.
"So you're going in?"
"Yeah?" - LD, making it sound more like a question than an answer.
"Why do I think you're telling the truth but it sounds like you're lying?"
"I don't know, because I'm ashamed of it? And I don't want people to know?" - LD.
"I'm going to slap you soon." - Opal, to LD.
That I tried to hang myself from a fluorescent light and it broke? Because I'm too heavy? Yeah? Yeah. Definitely." - LD, continuing her rant.

Assar walks forward, sabre in one hand, torch in the other, Therressa behind her, again with torch in hand. At first, the walls and floor are bare stone, but after some minutes of slow, careful shuffling forward, they notice paintings on the walls. Very simple paintings, basically just paint smeared on the rock.

A horizontal blue line is struck through the wall to the left, with white beams striking down from above. Where they land, what appears to be mountains erupt from the blue line. Great, winged, scaled beasts coil around the bases of the mountains, digging furrows around them. Then comes the introduction of people, as two legged figures begin to dominate the images, hunting, gathering, dancing. As the paintings continue, this basic theme runs through them. Then the newer ones. Paintings of two legged figures climbing the mountains. Paintings of two legged figures with spears in them, being thrown off the mountains.

Therressa approaches the images and sniffs it. The majority of the paint is various types of ochre or plant-dye, however some of the paint has been made with blood.
"Someone's bled here Assar." - Therressa, quiet.
The ranger just grunts, bemused by the whole cave-painting scene.

There is very little in the way of signs of habitation. In fact, the smeared cave-paintings are just about it. The further the pair get in the cave, the more recent the paintings are, and the more recent the paintings, the more violent the source material.

And then, from the end of the tunnel, they hear deep, gravelly voices speaking in a language they do not recognise. There is a snarl and then firelight emits from around a corner at the end.

The Invarrians halt.

From around the corner comes a large, heavy set figure, moving at some speed and clad in heavy furs. Slightly taller than the Invarrians, it is armed with a short, heavy hatchet. It stops once it sees the companions and sniffs once before roaring and charging.

Assar moves forward and intercepts the charging figure with her blade, but the figure parries it easily. Therressa moves forward and pushes the figure back with her shoulder, but it evades her follow-up strike with her blade.

Assar dodges aside from its hasty strike and darts forward with her blade again, but is foiled by the figure's quick reactions. Therressa steps forward herself, pressing from her side, but the figure manages to sway aside.

From behind him, two more figure arrives, another with a hatchet and the last with a spear.

All the combatants are struggling to make their strikes count in the darkness, but eventually Assar manages to cleave her blade into the original axeman's face. He falls to the ground, allowing Therressa to move forward. She sets her shoulder behind her shield and charges forward, the heavy wood of the shield smashing into the second axeman and sending him ploughing into the spearman behind him.

All three enemies are still alive, Assar's axeman bleeding profusely from the face, Therressa's axeman struggling to get up with a broken arm. From this distance and given a little time to take stock, the Invarrians can see their opponents are fur-clad insofar as they are wearing thick hide coats. Their skin is beyond leathery, stone-grey and wrinkled and their out-thrust jaws bear protruding, yellowed tusks. Their hair is dark and their ears slightly pointed.

And so the Invarrians continue their attempts to stab them. The original axeman manages to stagger to its feet before Assar lunges for the throat, striking a mortal blow. Therressa too moves forward and strikes at the broken-armed axeman, but the creature rolls out of the way at the last second. The spearman desperately thrust at the warrior, driving her back, but not even coming close to drawing blood.

Assar strikes at the spearman, taking it unawares and scything her blade into his ribs. It sinks to the floor, bleeding profusely. Therressa takes off the last axeman's leg with a downward swing before finishing it off with one last strike to the head.

Three more figures approach from around the corner. Two are much like the others, the third is much larger, shaggy and horned and led out in chains. The first two are holding the chains, one looped around the Feartarbh's neck and the other around his wrists.
The introduction of my brother's character. My brother, Scotticus, is quite young but has been pestering me to play for a long while. I viewed this as a good opportunity for him to see what it is all about without compromising the main game night with his immaturity.

Anyway, Scotticus is playing a Feartarbh warrior, Martialis Ironlaw. We came up with a decent backstory for Martialis and he was going to play this session right from the beginning, but due to a scheduled haircut we were not aware of, he was missing for most of the session. Once he had returned, I tried to slot him in on the fly.

Unfortunately, Scotticus and LD don't play all that well together in real life, and Scotticus seemed to really struggle with getting in character, which is absolutely fair enough when one considers that he is only approximately ten years old.

The Feartarbh, Martialis, has been trapped in the mountain for some time now, having been captured by the tribe held prisoner. But he does not want to be a slave and seeing these two Invarrians, he sees his chance. I ask Scotticus what he wants to say here.
"Kill them! Kill the Invarrians." - Martialis, commanding the mountain-tribe.
"What?" - LD, not happy.
"Can we just pretend no one understood him?" - Opal.
"Okay fine, let me out of here!" - Scotticus.

The Feartarbh falls to the ground, pretending to have fallen. The mountain-tribesmen start to haul on the chains, the iron cutting into the Feartarbh's throat. Assar steps forward and strikes at one of the chain-bearers, taking it in the shoulder, cleaving through fur, flesh and bone. With a strangled roar of agony, it drops the chains and draws a heavy bone and wood axe.

Martialis, struggling to breathe finds he can now move his hands, so he staggers to his hooves and attempts to wrap the chains around his wrists around the tribesman's neck. Weakened by his ordeal, Martialis fumbles in this and is struck by the tribesman, its axe biting into the Feartarbh's upper arm.

Assar ducks underneath the wild swing of her axe-wielding opponent, striking it down with a sword through his ribs. Therressa sees the last tribesman engaged with the Feartarbh and launches into a flying tackle, smashing it to the ground. It drops the chain and attempts to strike at the Invarrian with his axe, but she gets her shield in between the blow and her flesh.

Assar takes a quick look around the room and can see no surviving tribesmen other than the one tangling with Therressa on the ground. She steps over and drags the thing off her friend, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck and slamming her sword into its ribs. Therressa stands and delivers the finishing blow, taking off its head.

Assar approaches the Feartarbh, sword lowered but still in one hand, torch in the other.
"Who are you, why are you here and what do you want now? If you answer wrongly, we are armed and will attempt to kill you." - Assar, grim.
"Shut up, can I kill you!?" - Scotticus, laughing.
And so we called it quits as LD's response was to stab him in the face and I didn't want to have to deal with two players fighting at the table.

But I thought Opal and LD both played well, with both Therressa and Opal likely to prove to be successful additions to the group.

Cheers,

Sartharina
2014-04-26, 11:15 AM
I like Opal's character already!

I was under the impression she was some sort of catgirl from the teaser post, though.

Phoenixguard09
2014-04-30, 09:03 AM
Well she's definitely an Invarrian, so canine, though perhaps more terrier than Harold's border collie? :smallwink:

Glad that the most recent write-ups have been well received. I am unfortunately unsure of when we will have our next session as LD's dancing seems to have killed our chances for Friday nights. There has been talk of looking at Saturday afternoons instead, but until we can get that working, we are on a hiatus, at least until the mid-year holidays.

Cheers,

Opalwings
2014-05-09, 10:49 PM
Hey, theressa may be small, but she's got bite!

Phoenixguard09
2014-05-25, 07:37 AM
Just letting our readers know that we are planning two sessions to be played in quick succession in mid-June. So, a bit of a hiatus and then hopefully two good sessions which should see us through to the end of the Wolf King arc. :smallsmile:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-15, 04:23 AM
Okay, first up we are definitely going ahead with a session on the 21st. And we should have another on the 28th. Should be interesting being our first day sessions. We'll see how it goes.

The other thing is I'm going to post the character sheets so far. All stats are accurate as of the end of Session 3.2.


Invarrian Level 6 Duellist
Stats:
Combat Skill: 51
Ballistic Skill: 32
Strength: 41
Toughness: 42
Dexterity: 36
Agility: 36
Actions: 2
Initiative: 37
Health: 12/19
Charisma: 41
Perception: 32
Intelligence: 47
Willpower: 27
Luck: 3/6

Skills:
Animal Care +10
Charm +20
Command +10
Concealment +10
Deception +10
Disguise +10
Dodge Blow +10
Gambling +10
Haggling +10
Healing
Intimidation +20
Riding +10
Silent Movement
Taunt +10
Common Knowledge (Duelling)

Talents & Traits:
Reaver: +5 to Navigation and Sailing Checks.
Invarrian Senses: +10 to Perception Checks.
Ambidextrous: No penalties for attacks made with non-prefered hand.
Cool-Headed: Re-roll a single Intelligence Check per day.
Dashing Figure: +10 to Charm Checks.
Moves Like Quicksilver: +10 to Dodge Blow Checks.
Experienced Duellist: +10 to Parrying.
Flurry of Blows: May attack twice per normal attack with a -10 To Hit.
Lightning Parry: May sacrifice any number of attacks in a round for that many attempts to Parry.
Fall On Their Own Blades: On a successful Parry Check against multiple opponents, the parried strike is resolved against another target in the same combat.
Swordmaster: +1 Critical Damage when using a sword.
Deathsword: +1 attack for every enemy with a lower Comabt Skill in the same combat.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Sabre (Quality: Common)
2 shortswords (Common)
Walking staff (Improvised)
Arming sword (Masterwork)
Boarding axe (Common)
Armour -
Chain haubergeon (Common)
Steel vambraces (High) Enscribed with Runes of Protection
Steel plate cuirass (High)
Steel greaves (High)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Tinderbox
Torch
Rations


Danann Level 6 Mage
Stats:
Combat Skill: 33
Ballistic Skill: 46
Strength: 34
Toughness: 42
Dexterity: 30
Agility: 34
Actions: 1
Initiative: 45
Health: 15/15
Charisma: 22
Perception: 39
Intelligence: 51
Willpower: 42
Magic: 3
Luck: 10/6 (Luck points as a reward took Maebh over the maximum. Her Luck will slowly drain at a rate of 1 point per week until it reaches the limit once more.)

Skills:
Climbing
Concealment
Dodge Blow
Drive
Healing
Intimidation
Riding
Search
Silent Movement +10
Survival +10
Channelling +10
Hypnotism

Talents & Traits:
Danann Senses: Night-Eye and +5 to Perception Checks.
Unrestrained Power: +1D10 to Cast.
Lightning Reflexes: Re-roll a single Initiative Check per day.
Master of Destruction: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Destruction Spells.
Make It All Burn: +2 Fire Damage.
Dual Casting: May cast two Spells with a single Action. -4 to Cast the second Spell.
Destructive Will: Adds the first digit of Willpower to Destruction Spell damage.
Force of Destruction: Doubles the effect of Destructive Will.
Master of the Bri: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Weathermancy Spells.
Mage's Eye: +10 to Search Checks.
Master of Protection: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Protection Spells.
Arcane Lord: +2 per Magic Level to Cast all Spells. Stacks with the Mastery Talents.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Hunting spear (Common)
Arming sword (Common)
Tower shield (High)
Armour -
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Leather boots (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart and the focus stone which is a pendant and worn around her neck.)
Tent
Rations
"Candle-clock"
Lesser focus stone
Summoning coin (Uncharged)

Magic:
Flare - Magic missile, D10+Fire Damage (Destruction)
Create Element - Small amount of fire, water, wind or electricity.
Magic Alarm - Wards an area, producing a loud noise, plus alerting the caster to anyone in the immediate vicinity of the ward. (Protection)
Remove Curse - Caster nullifies any active Curse effects on the target.
Whispering Wind - A slight gust of wind carries a short message to a target. (Weathermancy)
Wall of Blades - Creates a wall of magic blades which shred anything which tries to pass. (Destruction)
Fireball - Magic missile, 2D10+Fire Damage (Destruction)
Aethyric Shield - Magic shield, provides heavy cover against ranged attacks. (Protection)
Eyes of Truth - See through illusions, invisibility and magical darkness.
Gust of Wind - Strong gust of wind which staggers anyone it it's path. Causes minor damage.
Fury of the River - Torrent of magical water, D10 Damage, can drown targets.
Bloodboil - Causes the target's blood to boil. Fire Damage on touch.


Leathe Level 6 Assassin
Stats:
Combat Skill: 43
Ballistic Skill: 37
Strength: 42
Toughness: 32
Dexterity: 32
Agility: 38
Actions: 1
Initiative: 32
Health: 14/14
Charisma: 25
Perception: 36
Intelligence: 39
Willpower: 25
Magic: 2
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Animal Care +10
Charm +10
Climbing
Concealment +10
Deception
Disguise
Dodge Blow +10
Evaluation
Haggling
Healing
Intimidation
Riding
Search
Silent Movement +20
Survival +20
Lockpicking +20
Sleight of Hand +20
Prepare Poisons +10

Talents & Traits:
Tree Dweller: +5 to Climbing Checks.
Sixth Sense: On a successful Perception Check, may ignore the Ambush rules.
Blade in the Shadow: +10 to Concealment Checks.
Sneak Attack: +D10 Damage to unaware enemies.
Excellent Vision: Re-roll a single Search Check per day.
Knife-Fighter: May still Parry with a knife.
Like Killing A Shadow: +10 to Dodge Blow Checks. Increases to +20 in shadowy areas.
Backstab: +2 Damage when Sneak Attacking.
Sturdy: Re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Check per day.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Carving knife (Common)
2 daggers (Common)
Armour -
None.
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Rations
Torch
2 daemonology books
Summoning coin (Uncharged)

Magic:
Shadowskin - Caster is wreathed in a shadowy veil. Counts as light cover and provides +20 to Concealment Checks. (Illusion)
Magic Dart - Magic missile, D10+2 Damage (Destruction)
Phantom Noise - Creates a single noise from a specific location. May duplicate two syllables of speech. (Illusion)
Obscuring Mist - Creates a blanket of fog. +10 to Concealment when within the fog. (Illusion)
Sleep - Causes the target to fall into a short magical coma on touch.
Terrifying Visage - The caster causes Fear for the duration of the Spell. (Illusion)
Shadow Figure - Creates the sillhouette of a single man-sized figure, which may perform any action the caster desires. The figure is insubstantial and disappears after a short time. It cannot be harmed, nor can it interact with the environment. (Illusion)


Danann Level 6 Ranger
Stats:
Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 51
Strength: 40
Toughness: 22
Dexterity: 41
Agility: 37
Actions: 2
Initiative: 36
Health: 11/11
Charisma: 20
Perception: 45
Intelligence: 41
Willpower: 24
Magic: 3
Luck: 10/6 (Luck points as a reward took Kel'Serrar over the maximum. His Luck will slowly drain at a rate of 1 point per week until it reaches the limit once more.)

Skills:
Concealment +20
Dodge Blow +20
Healing +20
Silent Movement +20
Survival +10
Common Knowledge (Wilderness) + 20

Talents & Traits:
Danann Senses: Night-Eye and +5 to Perception Checks.
Quick Reload: Nock and loose an arrow in a single Action.
Mighty Shot: +1 Critical Damage when using a bow.
Herblore: +10 to Healing Checks.
Forest Cloak: +10 to Concealment Checks in the wild.
Whisper in the Tress: +10 to Silent Movement Checks.
Secrets of the Ancient Archers: +1 to Cast Arcane Archer Spells.
Might of the Ancient Archers: +3 to Cast Arcane Archer Spells.
Aimed Shot: Sacrifice an Action for +10 To Hit with a ranged attack.
Sturdy: Re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Check per day.
Cool-Headed: Re-roll a single Intelligence Check per day.
Eagle-Eye: +3 Damage for Aimed Shots.
Powerful Shot: Adds the first digit of Strength to ranged damage.
Witchflame: +1 To Hit with the Flaming Arrow Spell.
Precise Shot: Adds the first digit of Perception to ranged damage. May also make a called shot with no penalties.
Skillful Shot: Adds the first digit of Ballistic Skill to ranged damage.
Masterful Shot: Combines Skillful, Precise and Powerful Shot Talents. They do not stack normally.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Longbow (Common)
Long knife (Common)
Quiver with 25 arrows (Common)
Arming sword (High)
Armour -
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Leather boots (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Rations
Rope
Compass
Writing implements (Stolen from Tremor)
Silver ring
20ft of rope

Magic:
Flaming Arrow - Arrow causes Fire Damage and can used as a lightsource. (Arcane Archery)
Patriot Arrow - Auto-Hit. (Arcane Archery)


Dwergar Level 6 Engineer
Stats:
Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 22
Strength: 30
Toughness: 43
Dexterity: 33
Agility: 34
Actions: 1
Initiative: 26
Health: 17/20
Charisma: 21
Perception: 29
Intelligence: 40
Willpower: 35
Luck: 5/6

Skills:
Command
Concealment +10
Disguise
Dodge Blow +10
Evaluation
Gambling +10
Haggling +10
Intimidation +10
Silent Movement
Survival
Invention +20
Alchemy
Craft (Wood) +10
Runesmithing +10
Craft (Metal)
Common Knowledge (Herblore)

Talents & Traits:
Craft Master: +10 to Evaluation Checks.
Innovative: +10 to Invention Checks.
Stout-Hearted: Re-roll Fear Checks.
Cold of the North: Re-roll Strength reduction Checks due to cold.
Bloodrage: Can go beserk.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Hammer (Improvised)
Hatchet (Common)
Greatsword (Common)
Wooden roundshield (Common)
Spear (Common)
Armour -
Chain hauberk (Common)
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Leather boots (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Universal Key
Saw
Nails
Tent
Rations
3 vials of healing salve
1 vial of pain-killing draught
1 vial of pain-inflicting draught
2 vials of "boom-sauce"
Silver whistle
Pipe and weed
Writing implements (Stolen from Tremor)
Summoning coin (Uncharged)
Amulet (Luck enchantment)

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-22, 09:18 AM
Okay, first up I thought I'd update everyone, firstly with some good news, and then a little bit of bad news.

Firstly, we did play on the 21st and to this point the 28th is likely to go ahead too. Without giving away too much, Session 3.3 was full of action and good fun. Personally I think that the Saturday afternoon worked pretty damn well too rather than the Friday night, so that definitely opens up some options on the regularity of gaming.

Then the bad news. Due to the haste with which we had to pack up and the age of the laptop we rely on, there was a technical mishap in which all three and a half hours or so of recording was lost. Luckily I was well prepared going into this session and between my own and Ladyhawk's notes plus Wings' map, we should be able to reconstruct it relatively faithfully. Sadly though, a lot of the humour and most of the off-topic chat is forever lost, so this write-up is likely to be a shorter one. :smallfrown:

On the plus side however, everyone seemed to have fun and we are most likely going to play this weekend too, hopefully a longer session and almost certainly without the recording being stupid. :smallbiggrin:

I also have updated character sheets for anyone who is interested, made more interesting by Sins multi-classing in 3.4.

The other good thing about the situation is that no recording means that I've put my ass into gear when it comes to actually writing the damn thing so that I forget as little as possible. This means of course that I will definitely have the write-up available to read sometime this week. So that's something to look forward to I guess. :smallsmile:

Cheers everyone,

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-23, 01:06 PM
Session 3.3: The Lair of the Wolf King

"Even one who is pure of heart and says their prayers at night, may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."
- Old Leathe nursery rhyme, usually told to frighten small children.

"Welcome to Session 3.uh... 3?"
"Does it really matter?" - Dev.
"Don't say it! No one say it!" - Ladyhawk.
Silence reigns for a few seconds.
"DAMN IT!" - Everyone, with laughter.

Now I shall preface this with an apology. Unlike the usual thing which is lost at this point in the write-up, I must confess that there was an issue this time around. Sadly, due to malfunctioning hardware, we did not lose the Game this time, but the whole goddamn recording.

As such I shall endeavour to reconstruct as much of this session from memory as I possibly can. And we'll see how that goes.

We begin in the dark hours of the early morning. The Fortress has held for the night and the wolves have retreated, thankfully without any loss of life, presumably save for those who stayed outside and ignored Tremor's ultimatum. The remains of those wolves which were felled in the assault have been dragged outside by the militia. The kitchen doorway too has been heavily boarded up. The kitchen itself is a blackened husk of what it used to be, but at least the assault has been seen off.

The few wolves which impaled themselves on Tremor's spiked installations atop the walls remain where they are, snapping at anything which comes close until Maebh takes her spear to them, shattering their heartstones.

On the whole, the people are exceptionally thankful towards the companions, particularly Tremor who has given them increased hope. But the fact is that The Fortress only barely held out the night and another attack could spell doom for the people of Dreven.

The companions are preparing to bed down for the night when they are approached by the innkeeper, his eyes bleary, the bruise Tremor's fist left on his head clearly visible. Despite their earlier confrontation, he seems in decent humour now, if very tired and scared.

"May I borrow a moment of your time please? I understand how weary you all must be, so I swear I shall be swift." - Innkeeper, who introduces himself as Aurel.
Cue snickers from my players. Immature sods.

He is adamant that the tavern could not withstand another attack, but perhaps it would not need to. He shares his speculation regarding the controller of the wolves, reminding them of the horn blast which called them off, informing the companions of his belief that the legends of the Wolf King may just be coming back to haunt them.

Harold asks for a bit more information on the Wolf King and is told a variant of the common legend. Several centuries ago, the lands surrounding Mount Dove where ruled by a line called the Wildermonts. The last of that line was an absolute nutter with an unhealthy obsession with wolves. In time he began to display wolf-like tendencies, eating his meat raw and filing his teeth to points. Over time he became even more depraved, so much so that some stories say that he had the pelts of slain wolves sewn onto his own skin. Every morning the bodies of servants would be found, mutilated and half eaten in the cold stone hallways. Dark shapes could be seen slinking in the shadows and in time, the king's human subjects left him, either fleeing in terror or consumed by the mad king and the wolves which followed him everywhere.

The Wolf King and his packs terrorised the lands around Mount Dove for almost a century before the high king of Naille at the time slew him in single combat.
"Nailed him." - Sins. It was beautiful. Thanks for reminding me Ladyhawk.
The wolves fled as soon as their king died and for over three hundred years, the lands around Mount Dove have been safe.

Until recently.

Aurel also tells them of a man named Elias who passed through Dreven just a few weeks ago, asking about the old legends of the Wolf King. The villagers were wary of him and so gave him nothing and he left. It was not long after that when the attacks began again. Elias is described as a tall man who gave off an unsettling aura. His cloth was poor, clad in dark greys and browns with a mangy wolf pelt around his shoulders. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, he carried a heavy wooden staff and kept a dagger at his belt. Aurel reiterates that people are not the only things dragged away and that many other objects have been taken, mainly ironwork.

Tremor speculates that he might be forming an army, but Maebh and Kel'Serrar point out that the iron could be reforged into all manner of things, Kel'Serrrar suggesting that it might be a mining operation.

Aurel also tells them that if they intend to go to Mount Dove, the trek will take them several hours and that they had best do it during the day. He does not know, but he suspects that if these creatures are ever dormant, it would be during the day.

With that out of the way, the rest until morning.

The next morning, they awaken later than they usually would. Some of their hastily formed militia are already up and about, but not many. The companions head out of the Fortress and into the weak sunlight, Maebh splitting from the others to go to the stable to retrieve Toirneach. The others head to Ingir's house, thinking to investigate.

The house and the smithy are deserted. Bits of wolf which have been cleaved from the animals can be found, paws, limbs and one head which growls at the companions as they approach. Harold crushes it under his boot and hears a soft clink. He bends down and retrieves three arrowheads from the wolf's jaws, which he tosses wordlessly to Kel'Serrar. There is a small puddle of blood on the floor which is smeared as if something was dragged through it. The drawers and backroom are checked, and all iron, worked or no is gone.

Of Ingir himself, presumable aside from the blood, nothing can be found.

Tremor does find a set of journals, which he skims through and is happy to find detail metalworking techniques. He puts them in his pack for later.

A substantial amount of money is found in the house, which is spread evenly through the party. Interestingly, no gold can be found in the house at all.

The group then prepare to leave, it starting to grow late in the morning. Tremor takes the casks which were emptied of oil the previous night and fills them all with coals from the late smith's forge-fire, knowing that they are enchanted to never go out. A draft-horse is rented from the stable-master too to pull the party's cart, Maebh deeming it beneath Toirneach now. Breanna is placed in a sack to prevent her taking revenge on the horse, a plough-horse in a previous life.

Before Breanna got in the sack she handed over the golden dagger to Maebh, still wrapped in cloth.

And then I gave them a level up since Maebh was the only one who had Drive and she didn't want to, they'd just been through a traumatic experience and Sins was dying to try out being a Mesmer.

I will put up the latest character sheets for everyone, but for now Maebh is able to create lightning bolts, Breanna's stats increased, Kel'Serrar picked up a sudden affinity for screwing with people's heads, Tremor got better at making things and Harold got better at killing people and not dying himself.

Harold goes back to the Fortress where he ingratiates himself further with the militia, paying them all a single sulver each for their efforts that night and promising further reward for some brave souls to follow him. Four men are eager to do so, the others torn between wishing to spend their last day with their family or wanting to be able to protect their loved ones in the coming night. Harold takes what he can get and details the four volunteers to come along.

They then began their hike up to Mount Dove, and from there, further up to the Blackfort itself where the Wolf King awaits.

The hike up to the Blackfort is relatively uneventful, everyone noticing the clearly visible wolf tracks they are following. Except for Breanna, who can only see darkness and the inner stitching of her sack.

On the ride, Maebh wards each and every oil-now-coal cask with aethyric shields. The intent is to provide a handhold to actually grasp them. Once warded, they are placed carefully into a large leather sack which is placed in the care of the militia volunteers. Kel'Serrar also experiments with magic, changing his appearance to that of a tall, grey-furred Leathe.

After several hours the undergrowth becomes too thick for the cart to continue and the party dismounts. The wagon is overturned and Amadeus, Bach and the new draft-horse are left tied to it. Maebh simply tells Toirneach to stay in the area, and though they are loathe to separate, they do so, Maebh vowing to return. Wolfgang however stays with Breanna, who is herself let out of her sack on the proviso that she make no sudden moves. As soon as Harold turns away, Kel'Serrar changes his appearance once more, this time to exactly match Harold's. The Invarrian is impressed, but not especially pleased.

One of the militia-men hefting the sack of coal-casks, the party heads onward and up into the foothills, which if anything are even more heavily forested than the woods surrounding Dreven. The woods are silent save for the party's progress. Not a creature stirs around them. No birds sing, nothing. Tracks can be easily followed, all of them leading up to Mount Dove.

Halfway up the mountain, the party comes to a cave, a dark, dank hole in the side of the mountain.

The cave-mouth is strewn with bones and old, dried blood. There are many wolf tracks leading both in and out of the cave. There are also plenty of drag marks where the wolves have presumably dragged captives, prey and valuables.

Inside the cave is a slaughterhouse, mangled remains of partially eaten villagers are strewn liberally about the place. The further they go in, Breanna at the fore, they also find that it is not a cave, but a long tunnel, which appears to have been clawed out of the mountain by both wolf-claws and, troublingly, mining tools. The further they go into the tunnel, the narrower and more cramped it gets, until if they want to get any further, they must crawl on hands and knees.

From further on, they hear the faint sounds of howling and snarling.

And then, on the very edge of perception, the wailing of people.

Breanna is sent in first as she does not need to crawl, merely stoop and she does so, Wolfgang slinking behind her. She pulls a shroud of shadows about herself as she goes, briefly wrestling with a daemon for the energy to do so. Rounding a bend in the tunnel she finds herself coming up upon a long, dark stone hallway. Turning back, she softly calls the others forward assuring them it is safe.

I do have a map of the labyrinth they have discovered and I will post it up to ensure that what occurs next is understandable. What comes next is a very short, traditional dungeon crawl.

It is very short because as I figured it, they had time constraints. After all, the village they have attached themselves to is probably going to face destruction tomorrow night and on top of that, they just stripped the village of most of its defenders. So if they take too long and the Wolf King attacks the village while they're screwing around in the dungeon then they will have single-handedly been responsible for the destruction of the village.

They immediately decide to explore this hallway, quickly finding that the place is a labyrinth of cold, dank stone. Tremor sets himself to the task of drawing a map for the group and Maebh calls upon her power to see through illusions and the like, just in case someone has attempted to hide something from her sight.

I had drawn the map before the session began, (I am usually not that organised, to my shame) but I asked the group how they wanted to approach this, giving them two options.

The first: To have my map placed in the centre of the table. This would ensure there would be no confusion as to where everyone was, however it would also mean that everyone would know exactly where every path led. None of the rooms were marked on the map however, so only I knew what was in each room.

The second: To keep my map secret and have one player draw out a map which the group would use. If we had a smaller table and perhaps if I were better descriptively, this could certainly work, but probably would have required more preparation and ability on my part to work well. Despite Ladyhawk's misgivings, we tried it out and Wings did do up a very serviceable map on an A4 piece of paper, which was far easier to make out than my 6" by 6" sketch. I have a bad habit of drawing things far too small.

Anyway, we got some way through before abandoning it as too hard, though Wings finished his map by copying mine, ensuring that two copies could be had around the table. So for what it's worth, good work mate. ;) Ladyhawk does want me to state however that she was right all along and we shouldn't have bothered trying, but I for one am glad we did. Now I know what went wrong this time around, I'd like to have another crack at it next time we do a dungeon crawl.

Rant over, back to the game.

The exploration went quite well, at first at least, Maebh finding that there were manholes in the ceilings of some rooms which let the weak sunlight stream into the labyrinth. They could be used to get out, but the noises from above suggested that the wolves were out there in force.

Everywhere the party went they found piles of bones, some fresh and recently chewed, others old and dry, cracked either by age or the attentions of the wolves.

From their original position the sounds of both the wolves and the people in the hallways seemed to be coming from the left, and after some exploration, that is the way the group went, every now and then sending individuals out by themselves to explore some paths.

After some time they came to what seemed like a central room. Ahead were two paths, one more each to the left and right and of course, the one they had just came from. The path to the left seemed to be where the sounds of the wolves were coming from, while one of the paths to the fore seemed to be the source of the wailing people. Maebh went right, discovering nothing but more bones and the remains of a man who had been taken by the wolves. Breanna took the path ahead to the right, while Kel'Serrar took the one to the left. Harold and Tremor took up position facing the direction they assumed the wolves would come from if they did, the militia forming a wall of shields and spearpoints around them.

Kel'Serrar
Kel'Serrar took the path and found it leading upwards slightly, the ground becoming slippery and treacherous in the dark. Rounding a bend to the left he came upon a very dark room and two green glowing eyes. To his keen eyes, he could see the owner, a powerful, yet mangy wolf, which stalked towards him, balefire glowing in its eyes. Kel'Serrar, arrow already nocked to the string of his bow, slowly stepped backwards, calling upon his magic, and swiftly enchanted the arrow to strike truly. With a smooth motion he loosed the missile at his target as it sprang towards him, a feral snarl echoing through the corridors. The enchanted arrow took the wolf in its "heart" and as the crystal shattered, the wolf slumped to the floor, flesh sloughing of its bones. The ranger took a moment to calmhimself, but in the silence following the wolf's demise he could hear something which worried him. Or rather, the lack of something which had been worrying him. The snarling of the wolves coming from back where he had left his companions had ceased. Suddenly there was a loud, muddied howl and the snarling returned, growing closer and accompanied by heavy footfalls. Softly cursing, he made his way back towards the room where he left the others.

Breanna
Breanna meanwhile, having taken the right-hand path rounded a bend to the right and came upon yet another room. In the centre of the room was a veritable mountain of corpses, what appeared to be villagers who had been ripped limb from limb. The Leathe quickly scrounged through them, but found nothing of value. Two paths lay before her, one to the right and one straight ahead. She took the one before her, following the sounds of people. Before she left the room, Wolfgang turned and growled at the path to the right, before scurrying to her side, but she did not pay any attention to him....

Harold & Tremor
Down the path to the left, Tremor and Harold could hear the oncoming horde. They heard the snarl from Kel'Serrar's direction and could only hope he was okay. Ahead of them came a rush of snarling beasts, the horde visible in the lowlight mainly by their flaming green eyes. At Harold's command, the militia presented their shields to the onrushing wolves were embroiled in a nightmare.

Breanna
Following the path before her, Breanna came to a long flight of stairs which lead to a thick, wooden door, reinforced with iron bars. The people were on the other side, and from this distance she could hear more of what was being yelled.

"Is anybody out there!? Help us!?" - Unidentified voices.

She turned back and made her way to her companions.

Retracing her steps she found herself back in the room with the mountain of corpses, however she and Wolfgang were no longer alone. Before them were two massive wolves, eyes blazing with green fire. Snarling they began to stalk towards the Leathe, who gripped her daggers tightly and closed her eyes.

LD asked here if she had any way of attacking both wolves before they attacked her. Now by the rules, no she didn't, only having enough Actions to attack a single target. However, that's where the Luck points come in.

Generally speaking Luck points are used to re-roll failed Checks. They also provide a target for Luck Checks. When a Luck Check is called for, a single D10 is rolled, with the aim being to score equal to or under the character's current Luck points.

Personally I think it rather elegant and does get across the idea of one's luck running out as it were. But that's neither here nor there.

They do have another function entirely though and it is as follows. At any point, a GM may make a deal with a player, basically to waive a rule or two in order to allow the character to do something cool.

In this case, I asked LD for 2 Luck points to do what she wanted to do. She accepted and got the chance to roll for successes. And all in all, it turned out awesome.

Breanna darted forward, the steel in her hands weaving with deadly grace. Leaping into the air, she sprang onto the face of the wolf to her left, before leaping again to the right, thrusting her dagger into the eye of the second wolf. She hit the ground, rolled to her feet and ran down the corridor, Wolfgang using her distraction to dart past the wolves too as they stumbled behind her. Snarling, they turned to give chase.

LD rolled an Agility Check for the initial kick to the face and succeeded by about three degrees from memory, followed by a called shot to the face and then another Agility Check to get away, which she passed easily.

The whole thing was awesome and all comes down to having a rule which says sometimes, the rules need to shut up and sit down.

Harold & Tremor
Where they were in the fighting, at the forefront against the wolves, there was always going to be danger. Unfortunately, at this point, Tremor wasn't quite equal to it and he was brought down by a leaping wolf, it's fangs gouging into his face as it brought him to the ground.

Harold leapt forward, blades swinging and took off one of the beast's forelimbs, causing it to lose its footing.
Pun intended.
As it staggered back, one of the militias' spears took it in the "heart." Harold dragged Tremor back, exhorting to his men to stay together as he did so and looking up. As such he saw both Maebh and Kel'Serrar appear from their sojourns, the latter immediately seeing to the injured Dwergar. Having seen to his friend's wellbeing, Harold jumped back into the fray.

To his practiced eye he could see that the Engineer was beginning to succumb to some kind of paralysis, which he deduced quickly was as a direct result of the wolf's saliva which dripped from Tremor's face. The ranger swiftly wiped it away before starting to stitch the ragged flesh of Tremor's cheek back together. As such, he was busy when Breanna came streaming back into the room, a haunted look in her eyes, Wolfgang, running alongside her. Two wolves followed her, barrelling into the room.

But where Kel'Serrar was occupied for the moment, Maebh was not and she took the opportunity to unleash her power. Calling upon the elemental force of unbridled fire, she blasted one of the wolves into oblivion leaving nothing but fine, grey ash. The sheer concussive force of her strike set the other sprawling into the stone wall, mangy fur smouldering. Maebh's strike gave Kel'Serrar all the time he needed and taking up his bow from where he had set it aside to see to Tremor, he sent an arrow straight into it's heartstone, shattering it.

Harold meanwhile continued to lead his men, striking out at the wolves which continued to batter away at their wall. Despite everything, none of the four had fallen, but Maebh did not want to risk it and she strode forward, setting up a wall of aethyric blades between the militia and the remaining wolves. The magic spinning blades shredded at least three of the oncoming wolves, leaving only two to continue their charge bearing minor injuries.
"What constitutes minor injuries to these things?" - Dev.
"Ah, well you know, missing limbs and the like."
Everyone seemed to find that really funny.
The last of the wolves were swiftly taken down by the militia, who seem to relish the chance to actually strike back at the creatures which have been terrorising them for weeks.

That'll do for now, back in a minute. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-23, 01:08 PM
We're back! :smallbiggrin:

Before moving on, Maebh wards each passageway into the room with her magic, ensuring that if any creature is to follow the party, they will trip the alarms and the companions will know of it. Taking stock of their situation, the companions decide to follow the path Breanna scouted earlier, however Tremor investigates the passageway she skipped when they come to the room with the mountain of corpses. Following the passage he comes upon another room, again littered with bones, but in the far left corner there is a wooden chest.

The engineer carelessly opens the chest, releasing a quantity of foul-smelling green gas. He holds his breath and thankfully, his stout Dwergar constitution allows him to shrug it off. Inside the chest is a plain iron dagger, a small amount of copper coins and two old scrolls.

Tremor claims the spoils for his own and then unfurls one of the scrolls. The language is one which he is unfamiliar with, but despite that he attempts to read it anyway, attempting the pronunciation to the best of his ability. As soon as he reaches the end of the page, the script is overlaid with a glowing golden light and the words are erased as if they are being burnt of the paper. And then the chest immolates, leaving nothing but ash in seconds. The scroll too shrivels up in the dwarf's hands.
"Cool." - Wings.

Tremor hands the remaining scroll to Maebh, who reads over it, careful not to give voice to the incantation upon it. She swiftly reveals that the scroll is intended to produce a flame which will consume almost anything in a matter of moments. Tremor tells her to keep it.

They continue through the labyrinth, eventually coming upon the flight of stairs which Breanna had discovered earlier. Breanna picks the lock on the door and they barge through. What they find is horrifying.

The room is dark and damp and not empty. To the left of the party is another long, steep flight of stairs. To the right is a concave wall, and set into the wall are seven iron-barred cage doors. Behind the left most doors are groups of bloodied, ragged people, some clamouring at the bars to entreat the party to release them, others huddled in silence against the rock walls, already surrendered to their fate. The two doors on the right however hold only one captive each, both of whom are covered in blood and snarling, hands reaching and clawing at the companions from behind the bars.

The group recoils from the two men, spying the remains of late captives in those cells which were torn apart and eaten. All the visible captives bear bite-wounds, what appear to be deep, infected gashes. The party withdraw from the room and back down some of the stairs to consult with each other in private. Doing so also prevents the militia-men from seeing the captives.

They then engage in a short debate on what to do with the captives.
Unfortunately, I cannot remember who wanted to do what with the captives and Ladyhawk's notes don't say either. Suffice to say that some wanted to kill them all, some wanted to leave them for now and sort through them later and some wanted to free them immediately.

Freeing the two feral captives was considered out of the question. Those two men would have to be put down. The others however could still be saved, but someone does point out that unleashing all these captives upon an unsuspecting Dreven only for them to turn rabid, or worse, into undead wolves, would be tantamount to consigning the village to death.

Not that the party even knows if that could or would happen. But I'm happy to see someone thought of it.

In the end, for their safety it is decided to leave them in the cages for now, but Tremor does provide one of the calmer captives with a hastily drawn map of the labyrinth for them to study so that they are prepared to move when they get their chance, the party intending to come back later.

The militia, once again for their safety, they detail to guard the room, both the doorway into the labyrinth and the captives, telling them not to open the gates, simply to guard them. The companions move on, up the stairs and out the door to the left.

They come out into a massive hall, stonewalled, dark and cold. It is richly decorated in an ancient style, the faded banners proudly bearing the Wildermont sigil, a black mountain on a red field, surmounted by the antlers of a stag and a black sunburst. To the right of the party is a passageway to another room, ahead of them two thick wooden doors, approximately ten foot tall and to the left, two doorways, of normal size this time.

Exploring, they find that the passageway to the right leads to a winding staircase which provides access to the levels of a high tower. They ignore this part of the castle for now, assuming that the Wolf King, if present is likely to be in a throne-room of sorts. There is no guarantee of course that he is present at all, the Blackfort cold and seemingly lifeless, however the echoes of lupine howls can be heard on the air. The wolves are close.

The party heads for the two doorways, splitting into two groups to tackle it, Harold and Kel'Serrar taking the right doorway while Maebh, Breanna and Tremor take the other. Silently, they prepare their weapons, Kel'Serrar binding magical flames to the head of one of his arrows. Harold holds up a furred hand and slowly counts them off.

Five...
Breanna gives Wolfgang a quick pat as he stands ready beside her. She murmurs softly to him, just reassuring sounds, no words...
Four...
Kel'Serrar gently draws back on the arrow he has nocked to the string of his bow, senses alert for anything coming from the next room...
Three...
Tremor clenches his longsword tightly, muttering an oath under his breath...
Two...
Maebh's hand itches with the urge to unleash her power. She closes her eyes, sends a reassuring thought to Toineach and lays a hand on the door...
One...
Harold pushes the door aside, Maebh doing the same to the other door and the companions charge into a long hall.

Before them are six long wooden tables, arranged in two lines of three. At the end of the hall is a raised platform, just three stone steps off the floor. On the platform sits an ornate carved wooden throne. And in the throne sits a man.

Not just any man, but a tall and gaunt figure, clad in baroque steel plate harness and a thick grey wolf-skin cloak over his shoulders. An ornate steel longsword rests on his knees, but that is not the most imposing feature the man possesses, for his very skin is a patchwork of crudely stitched wolf-pelts. Upon his grotesque head sits a dark wrought iron crown, barbed and of an ugly shape.

And standing beside him is the skeleton of a huge man, he too clad in heavy steel plate, bearing an enormous iron kite shield and a longsword in its right hand which would require two hands for Harold to even swing. The skull of the creature is covered by a finely wrought steel representation of a wolf's head. It turns to face the companions as their charge falters, but makes no move towards them.

"Who enters my domain?" - The Wolf King, in a booming, unearthly baritone, like two boulders giving speech.
Sadly, I'm just not very good at voices. The players killed any tension here by responding with such gems as, "Me!" and "Don't you know who I am?" It was very funny, but we just ruled it as the characters were shell-shocked.
"No matter, you should not be here." - The Wolf King, who waves a hand dismissively.
His champion starts forward, pacing down the length of the hall.

And we have combat! Maebh wins initiative. Three guesses what she does next. :P
Maebh meets it with a roiling blast of fire which deals some solid damage to the skeletal figure.
"Maebh, the scroll!" - Tremor, beckoning to the mage who throws him the scroll they found earlier.

The Wolf King looks at her and sneers before raising his hands above his head. He then brings them together with the sound of a thunderclap. From behind the party comes the ominous sound of howling followed by pounding footsteps. He then points a finger at Maebh and hits her with what looks like a thin sliver of silvery-green dust. Where it hits her, the flesh turns black for a second, eating away at her flesh and vitality before her body restores itself, but some damage is done.

Harold charges forward, meeting the champion in single combat. The two exchange blows but for the most part neither is able to land a telling strike, Harold's attempts foiled by the wight's shield and thick armour, his own skill proving just enough to ward off its return strikes. Crucially though, he has halted the champion's momentum and now at least it is not threatening the Invarrian's companions. It is not long before Tremor joins in the melee too, trying to flank the champion and take its legs out with his greatsword, but he is unable to break through its guard.

Kel'Serrar meanwhile takes stock of the situation and looses his arrow at the King himself, who takes significant damage from the strike.

Noticing that the attention of both the King and his champion is focussed squarely on her companions, Breanna darts forward, daggers at the ready and hoping that she can get close enough to the King to strike without him noticing her. She is doomed to failure however and she is picked up by the throat and thrown bodily across the room in a fiendish display of strength. Groaning, she sits herself up, dazed.

As she does so, she sees a scene from her nightmares. Behind Maebh and Kel'Serrar come bounding three hugely muscled beasts, all fangs, claws and savagery, eyes blazing with an animalistic bloodlust. Their features are vaguely lupine, but they are like no wolf the Leathe has ever seen, bounding forward on all fours and standing on only two legs to fight with scything claws.

The beasts remind her of a legend she had once been told when she lived in Greenstone, a horror story the village elder delighted in sharing, especially late at night around the fires. A legend of a curse which would take the most noble of people and turn them into a hateful raging bloodthirsty beast.

The legend of the varghulf.

Wincing in pain, she shouts a warning to the ranger and mage.

Maebh reacts first and before the beasts can pounce she blasts them with a torrent of magical water which glows with a white light. The torrent blasts one of the beasts into the wall between the doors and the other two back through the doorways completely. She then turns and smashes a fireball into the Wolf King upon his throne, who howls in pain as the fires catch on his pelts.

Looking up in anger at the ranger and mage who have dared to assault him, he throws two more entropic bolts, hitting both Kel'Serrar and Maebh. The bolts do their work, weakening both and draining them of yet more of their life-force. Knowing that he is on the edge of death, the Wolf King then starts to weave another enchantment which surrounds him with a glowing green burst of energy, which then fades into nothingness.

Harold, Tremor and the King's champion continue to trade blows, some getting through, but none particularly telling.

Kel'Serrar shoots off an arrow at the closest varghulf, hoping to take it down before it recovers from Maebh's magical river. The steel bodkin penetrates its chest, but the beast ignores the injury and staggers to its feet. Snarling, it lunges forward and its claws catch Kel'Serrar in the chest, felling the weakened ranger.

The varghulf raises its head and howls its triumph as its other two pack members slink in behind it, wary of the flame-handed Maebh, who herself is slowly backing away.

Breanna meanwhile picks herself up of the floor and makes another attempt at the Wolf King, darting forward, keeping to the shadows and then biding her time. The King sees Kel'Serrar go down and crows his victory, which is all the chance the Leathe needs. Her daggers flash and the King's head hits the floor.

And we left it there....

The Wrap-Up:
First of all, it was great getting everyone back together for this. It really had been a long time since we had last played and I certainly had missed it.

Secondly, it was a very good session, and I do believe that the day-time session certainly helped. Everyone seemed to be just as, if not more, invested compared to our usual sessions and we would have gotten to play for even longer than we usually do had Dev been on time.

As you can see, it was a seriously tense session, particularly at the end and we've certainly left it on a cliff-hanger. Luckily, we won't be in suspense for too long because at this point we are almost certainly playing this week. Sadly, it does seem that Opal will not be joining the group for some time yet.

What else is there? Oh yes, I do heartily apologise for the lack of detail, particularly regarding dialogue this session. It won't happen again. We will be using Ladyhawk's laptop from now on, which will not crash I'm sure. That being said, perhaps I might just get someone else to see to the recordings from now on due to my technology curse. I swear it all hates me. :P A special thanks is due to Ladyhawk too, who compiled hand-written notes for me to comb through. Plenty of stuff in this write-up I had forgotten about completely until I read it in her notes, so yes, thank you very much.

So yes, big cliff-hanger and do join us for the next update, which will see plenty of action I am sure.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-26, 11:49 AM
Just updating everyone,

Saturday will go ahead at this stage and a few players have expressed their excitement to me regarding the short break between sessions. Maybe we will be able to be a little more frequent in the future. :smallsmile:

So tune in for wolves, explosions, heaps of loot and undead bits and pieces flying everywhere. That's what I expect will happen anyway and the group is unlikely to disappoint.

Cheers, :smallbiggrin:

Amidus Drexel
2014-06-26, 02:04 PM
Woo!

I love reading this - I can't wait for more. :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-28, 03:11 AM
Unfortunately Wings fell quite ill and had to call off today, but on the plus side a game on the 5th of July is looking like close to certain. :smallsmile:

I have got something people might find interesting however. I am running a contest for the players, as I do on a semi-regular basis and have asked them to conduct their own interview with their characters. I would like to extend the opportunity to you, the readers, to post any questions you might have for players and/or characters.

These questions can seriously be just about anything you want, so go nuts. I'm hoping to encourage the players to differentiate player reactions and character reactions.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-06-29, 12:45 PM
Okay, well I have a heap of pictures I wanted to put up, maps and all but for now I will have to be content with only three and sadly, not three of my finest works. :smallbiggrin:

First up, the floormap of The Fortress, the Dreven inn which Tremor took a liking to. Down the bottom you can see the second floor of the inn and on the left hand side you can espy a quick sketch of Tremor's amulet, which may just start to become more important.
http://phoenixguard09.deviantart.com/art/The-Fortress-of-Dreven-464364406

Next we have the sketch of the labyrinth beneath the Blackfort which the players recently fought their way through. The left hand side shows the cave and tunnel entrance into the passageways. On the right, one can see the passage out and into the dungeon.
http://phoenixguard09.deviantart.com/art/Blackfort-Labyrinth-Map-464363770

And lastly, for a bit of fun, here's the original sketch I put together in the bathroom which LD took and adapted for her own purposes. As you can see, she's a far superior artist.
http://phoenixguard09.deviantart.com/art/The-Original-Party-Sketch-464364915

I would have posted them up as images but didn't realise that Deviant Art would cause such problems when I tried to. I shall go back to Photobucket now I think.

That's all for now but I will be putting up a basic topographical map of Norbayne, a known world map and a geopolitical map of the area around Summer Hill. Along with a sketch of Harold on a horse.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-07-03, 09:47 AM
Okay, back now everyone, this time with heaps of pictures that will be displayed here instead of Deviant Art.

First up, a map of the labyrinth under the Blackfort. Hopefully it can be followed to some extent.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/BlackfortLabyrinthMap_zps71adaaa6.jpg

Secondly, the Fortress of Dreven, replete with various things Wings figured out. In the bottom left you can see Tremor's amulet he picked up off Wilmund Brewer.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/TheFortressofDreven_zps36306406.jpg

Next, a world map of Norbayne which might help people with the geography and such.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/NorbayneWorldMap_zpsd4462f06.jpg

The lands around Summer Hill. Each number represents a city, town, fort or other point of interest.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/TheLandsAroundSummerHill_zps34d57bb1.jpg

The original party sketch I did in the bathroom.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/TheOriginalPartySketch_zps160da52d.jpg

And lastly, a sketch of Harold Oakenshield on horseback. Even when taking it seriously, I'm still pretty crap.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/HaroldOakenshield_zps52aabdd8.jpg

That's all for now though I will be putting up stat sheets as of the end of 3.3 soon. Sadly, Wings just informed us the other day that he goes away very early Saturday morning, so unfortunately we will not play this weekend.

Cheers

Sartharina
2014-07-04, 02:06 AM
Yay, this thing's back! Sort of. And I am kinda as well.

Questions for characters... hmm, I had a lot, but only one is currently sticking out in my mind is "Why isn't Harold getting more attention from the ladies?"

Now that I've picked up sketching again (Losing my laptop and internet for several weeks has done wonders with my life!), I think I'm going to draw a sketch of Harold at some point. (I may or may not include Tremor at his side in a back-to-back badasses pose)

If Dev reads this - Make sure that wolf doesn't die next session, or any future ones either! However, I won't mind if his adventures cost him his armor.

Phoenixguard09
2014-07-04, 10:31 AM
Yep, we're kind of back indeed. Just waiting to hear from Wings as to when he's good to go as I'm growing weary of organising days and calling them off. :)

As to the question, I will put it to all the characters as that will likely be quite amusing. :P

And as far as sketches go, to your heart's content. Anything you want to do would be awesome.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-07-09, 03:17 AM
Hey everyone,

I ran a solo session for my seven year old brother yesterday. I think he's seven anyway. Whatever. :P

Anyway, I've finished a write-up of the session which can be found on my forum. Here's a link to it. (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/topic/10124466/1/) I reckon it would be awesome for the little guy to see that people have read and enjoyed his story so just a comment left on here for him to read indicating you enjoyed it would mean the world to him I'm sure.

Thanks in advance guys, and hopefully that will sate your appetite for Norbayne goodness until we get Wings to sort out a date. ;)

Cheers,

Sartharina
2014-07-09, 03:33 AM
Hmm... nice judgement call about leaving the dagger.

The guy seems pretty cool. I can't get enough of your campaigns, and the system intrigues me!

Phoenixguard09
2014-07-09, 08:12 AM
Hmm... nice judgement call about leaving the dagger.

The guy seems pretty cool. I can't get enough of your campaigns, and the system intrigues me!

The highest praise I can get, thank you so much. :)

Apparently he is nine, (turning ten!) but hey, he hasn't changed much in the last two years. :P

Thanks for reading,

Phoenixguard09
2014-07-12, 04:35 AM
Okay, well only two players could be bothered with the challenge I set them, so I guess we know who gets the rewards... :smalltongue:

First up, Kel'Serrar. This is set just as the Wolf King has blasted him with the entropic dart.

A bolt of powerful magic hits me and I can feel my life fading away and with it, reality.

My eyes open and there, before me is a tall, familiar looking old man with a long grey beard and weatherbeaten skin. He stands clad in a dark grey robe and bearing a carved wooden staff. He nods in greeting, shifting his weight upon his staff and pulls out a wooden board with a piece of parchment on it and a quill.

“Again? You know this really isn’t the best time to do this..."

“Considering what you’ve just been hit with, can you honestly say you have anything better to do right now?” the old man asks, laughing at the question.

There wasn’t much I could answer that with, if anything. After all, I’m still not certain I haven’t been killed. Admittedly, if I had known this was the afterlife, I probably would have killed a lot more people, might at least make things interesting.

“Nice to see we agree on something then, before we begin… do you have any questions?”

“Is this the afterlife? Do I get paid for this? What is the meaning of life? Can I borrow that walking stick?” What can I say? If I am dead, then he can’t kill me for being annoying. If I’m not dead though that may be about to change.

The old man looks at me for a moment, and then continues, “Well then, since you don’t have any questions, I must ask… if you have such a fear of fire, why is it that you actively attempt to set buildings and other people on fire?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I fear fire, if anything I’m actually rather fond of it, there are few of life’s challenges that cannot be solved through the immolation of everyone around you. What I dislike are the ashes that remain behind once the fire is gone. Ashes mean there’s no more life here, nothing left and it’s time to move on again.

As to why I try to start fires, well… after many years of fighting, raiding and killing, my people learned a remarkable truth about the other races. Almost all of them are afraid of being set on fire. In the little time I have spent outside of my village, this has yet to fail me”

“Then let me ask of something else, you have been using a new form of magic recently, one rather foreign to you all things considered. Why?”

“That is a far simpler question to answer. Why? Because I was told I couldn’t. Back in Summer Hill, while I was talking to ‘The Trickster’ I asked him about the magic he was using, and whether he would be willing to teach it. I was told it would be beyond my ability to learn, how could I resist?

From what I’ve learned of it so far, it seems like it would have quite a lot of use if I ever return to the wilds, being able to change my appearance almost at will would certainly be effective against any group of bandits. The ability to hide any sound would simply be an added bonus, it would certainly help when working with Chirya.”

“Ah yes, Chirya. You don’t think she might be annoyed at a certain note you left her recently… one that I note you have made no effort to find a response to?”

“In all honesty... no. She herself has done similar in the past, knowing her, any reply she would make, she’ll leave somewhere in my way and I’ll find just after she’s left the area. Actually… that does seem to happen far too often. Quite often we will both find ourselves in the same area, yet never actually see each other. It certainly makes things interesting at least.

As much as I miss her though, the situations she would get us into… she once had us try and besiege the town of Sul, well, if I’m being honest, it was more of a village than a town. The reason? She was bored. Before I tell you how we did it, just think for a moment how you would do it. A quiet village, thirty people at the most living there, on the edge of the wilds. These villagers were fairly well armed, and had a well-trained militia for the nearly constant problems caused by the wilderness.

Thought how you would do it? It probably wasn’t this. We surrounded the village, yes, surrounded it, just the two of us. This was only the second strangest thing that happened that day. The strangest was that it actually worked. The villagers did not believe that we would try something quite so abysmal without having a small army in hiding nearby. I’m not entirely sure if they ever really learned the truth, but I hope so, it wouldn’t be quite as exciting to do it twice if they haven’t learned.

That was about only a few days before we both went our separate ways near Summer Hill, and I haven’t seen her since… although it was certainly amusing to find out about the holes she put in Harold. “

“What about this town you have been fighting in, this Dreven?”

“I’m glad to be out of there in all honesty, those wolves were simply too much. They are a perversion of the natural order and have no place within the wilds. The sooner they can be dealt with, the sooner we can leave this place, and travel further. Who knows, we may find more members, or we might all leave, one of the two.”

“Interesting, my final question then, the other members of the party… You've had a fair bit of time to form an opinion of them. What do you think of them?”

“They are certainly convenient, as a group we achieve much more than we would separate, but this group is not the most reliable. Harold is practical, if someone is dead, they cannot act against us… a good philosophy, if we weren’t hunting someone long dead, who controls undead wolves. He has few issues with looting, so he would be decent if he were not so fixated on separating the party while we adventure.

Maebh is powerful, very powerful, yet sentimental. An odd mix for a Danann. She is good company to adventure with, but will often let sentiment cloud her vision. Those prisoners were a good example, if they were released, they had every possibility to turn into more wolves and an enemy behind us as well as before us is not an ideal situation.

Breanna… well, Breanna makes Chirya seem like a travelling hero of the people. There is something very wrong with her mental state, but it certainly helps whenever we need to kill something. With every town we go to, I find myself expecting her to go on a murdering spree and get us chased out of town. Again.

Tremor is a small and very flammable wall. While it is amusing to see him thrown at various targets we have met, he seems much more capable building than he does fighting. If he were to actually hit his targets they have little chance to continue breathing, but he seems to be far more successful at desperately flailing than fighting.

And then there is me. In all honesty, I remain with this party because it pays the best, and they don’t usually object too loudly when there are objects in need of stealing. This does not engender much in the way of trust among the party. We all know that the others will get the job done, but when there’s nothing left for us to hunt, what then?”

“Odd, but very well, thank you for your time, you may return to your world again… Oh and try to move out of the wolf’s way.”

The old man fades away, and reality seems to reassert itself, as do the wolves moving closer to Maebh and myself…

And then the other one I got was from LD. So here's Breanna's interview. This one is set just after the Wolf King has cracked her head against a stone wall.

My eyes open and before me is a very different sight. Where I was in the middle of a life and death struggle just moment before, now I am sitting on a tree-stump at a campfire at night. Before me is familiar old man, clad in dark grey. A carven staff lies beside him and he carries a quill and wooden board with parchment. He smiles across at me.

"That was a nasty head knock girl. Now, do you have any questions?"

I shake my head, still trying to come to grips with the situation I have found myself in.

"Very good then, we shall begin. We are very curious, what are your values?"

I take a deep breath and then start to talk.
"The things that I feel most strongly about are strength, morality and justice, though, for obvious and, quite frankly, disturbing reasons, you would not think this…I’m a bit of sociopath, or psychopath, depending on which you find to be more fitting. Honestly, I think I’m both. However, back to the matter at hand. Strength, honor and justice hold strong with me due to my background. Now, I know we Leathe are not exactly renowned for our bravery and/or excellence on the battlefield, but hearing fables or warriors and the like really took a place in me, so strength, I find, is quite a good trait to have, both physical and mental. As for morality and justice, this is going to be a massive hit of hypocrisy, though my true opinion. Morality is possibly one of the best characteristics to have, the knowledge of right and wrong and all that crap, justice, honour, and integrity…they all come into this category. These are, what I find, to be some of the most important things in the world, though, in this age of Norbayne, is hard to find."

"What was your view on the supernatural? Have these views changed throughout the course of your little adventure?"

"I have always had this idea of no divine over-ruling spirit, and the same applies to the supernatural creatures we've run across. I was always taught as a child that these things were simply used to scare children into doing their parent’s bidding and the like; however, this journey has made me rethink my opinions on the world completely. Undead wolves being controlled by an ex-king psychopath who should be otherwise dead? Come on, I’m oblivious, but even I know something’s up when that comes into play! I get the whole “it’s magic and that’s all there is to it” thing, but there’s definitely something, more, there has to be something that the world of Norbayne isn’t seeing. As to my views on the supernatural now? It’s real, and it should be feared, like death."

"Do you think redemption is possible? If so, can anyone be redeemed, or are there only certain circumstances that can be? If not, why do you think nothing can redeem itself?"

"Redemption is a possibility, for most people. All hope is lost for me though, hurt too many people, caused too much pain, but other people could do it. Though, I hope some people never do manage redemption. The world is such a horrible place, but there is still some good left in the world."

"What do you think is wrong with society, overall?"

"The majority of the people of this world, have a tendency to be avaricious, whether it is for wealth or power. It is our greatest flaw, because, let’s face it, there are so many flaws with the world."

"What is your current long-term goal for this venture?"

"I would say that my long-term goal would be for, at the end of this, to get paid…but…that is sort of out unlikely, so maybe just to live through this bloody (literally bloody) venture. Maybe come out of it with some valuables so I can set myself up, far away from Greenstone all together."

"And then, what is your current short-tern goal at the moment?"

"At this point in time I just want to survive. I have an ominous feeling about how all this is going to pan out, and, to put it lightly, there is a substantial chance of dying by “Wolf King evil kill-iness”, so, I’m essentially preparing for the worst. Though, it would be very pleasant to actually live through this thing."

"My last question then, before I let you get back to it all, some of us are quite interested. Why do you feel Harold Oakenshield doesn't get more attention from the ladies?"

"He is a very…unique Invarrian. As to reasons why he doesn’t get, as you say, more attention from the ladies, I give you this image: picture a half dog half man covered in whiskey, curled up on a mat, shedding everywhere, laying so close to the fireplace that you’re actually afraid that he’s about to combust… Come get it ladies!
But, in all seriousness, he is a sea wolf, and racism is an issue that needs to be brought to light. Around here, his kind are known for being merciless raiders. Plus, after a month or so of travelling around with the dog, you learn pretty quickly that he has no filter between his brain and his canines.

And there you have it guys, the two things I did get. :smalltongue:

Phoenixguard09
2014-08-05, 10:36 AM
Just a short status update for anyone who is anxiously awaiting the next installment.

At the moment several of us, myself included have been exceptionally busy. I play club football, LD's at school and takes her ballet dancing very seriously, Dev, Sins and Ladyhawk are all studying and Wings works full-time. As you can imagine, co-ordinating everyone can be a rather stressful task.

As it was, Friday nights were great for everyone last year. LD only had dancing two times a week and everyone had the day off on Saturday so we could all be out/up late. This year however, LD picked up another night of dancing, specifically Friday nights. Unfortunately, this restricted us to playing either in the school holidays when the dancing academy had time off, or changing the sessions to Saturday.

This would not have been such an issue if it weren't for my own acquisition of football to my time-table. With games alternating between Friday night and Saturday afternoon, this severely cut down what opportunities were left by LD.

What few opportunities remained to us after these issues Wings and Ladyhawk managed to scuttle, leaving us with a pretty bare roster in terms of sessions in 2014. :P

However things are looking up. I play my last game for the season this weekend and should also finally get my licence which should help with co-ordinating people in itself. LD's dancing should also be wrapping up soon, but at least I won't have to call off any more Saturdays myself.

We are also hoping to have multiple sessions in September. :D Well, I am anyway. We'll have to see how the others feel about that.

To finish this message, I'll just assure you that the adventures of this group are not over by a long shot and we are still going. We're just going to be a little late about it. :P

I also hope to play another session of Pirates of Lemaria with Scotticus this weekend, so keep your eyes peeled for another chronicle featuring Martialis Ironlaw.

At 1:36 from the east coast of Australia, I bid you a good night,

Phoenixguard09
2014-08-14, 10:27 AM
Another quick update, but this one is not only positive news but content-filled! :smallbiggrin:

First up, we're playing a session on the 23rd of August. Hooray for the end of lengthy hiatuses! Is that a word? It is now.

Secondly, Opal will probably be joining us. Suffice to say, there will be a legitimate reason for her to show up. :smallwink:

Thirdly, I played Session 1.2 of Pirates of Lemaria with Scotticus some time last week. We had a blast and the write-up can be found here. (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/topic/10124466/1/#new) Enjoy. :smallbiggrin:

That's all for now guys, please post if you have any questions or comments, we love seeing comments on here. :smallwink:
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-09-14, 04:16 AM
Session 3.4: The Danann Pack

The witch Kresimina is an interesting case, a woman whose past is hidden amid the blood and flames of her terrible reign. She first rose to power almost a decade after Imperator Felix Aureus Ferox fell in battle against the Danann of the Dragain's Tail. What began as rumours of a powerful sorceress coming to power in the Northlands quickly became full-scale war between the forces of the reeling Bovus Empire and undying legions from the north, led by their witch-queen, a necromancer of terrible power.

Kresimina took for herself the sigil of the burning pine tree, a symbol of her conquest, the Razing of the North....

From the Codex of Blood.

Welcome to Session 3.4 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword. This session went for about three and a half hours, with a lunch break in the middle and saw the introduction of a new player, Opal, who has been lined up to join us for quite some time now.

Let's begin,

"You lost The Game." - Sounds like everyone.
"You bastards."

Harold and Tremor stand in the middle of the dining hall, trading blows with a giant, armour clad champion. Breanna stands at the end of the hall, knife in hand, having just decapitated the Wolf King. Two varghulfs stalk towards Maebh, magical light flickering in her hands, while the third crouches over the felled Kel'Serrar, about to tear his face off.

Things are not looking good.

And so with a shout Maebh hits the oncoming varghulfs with all the power she can muster, a torrent of magical water blasting them apart. Wrenching the magical energies around, she directs the water at the third beast on Kel'Serrar. It too is blown apart, leaving the stunned Danann ranger wiping blood and flesh from his face.

Inspecting the corpse before her, Breanna notices a thin green-grey wisp of magic emanating from the Wolf King's neck. She pushes that to the back of her mind and looks over to where Harold and Tremor continue to trade blows with the champion. She takes up her dagger and hurls it across the room. The keen blade flashes into the champion's skull, easily penetrating the steel helm. The skeletal figure appears not to notice.

For whatever reason, half the group bursts into song while Wings and I are trying to determine whether or not he dodges one of the champion's strikes. Naturally, no one actually knows the words to the song, and so four members of the group, naming no names, just hum along till they get to the parts that they know.

Unfortunately, between the humming and the singing and the usual OOC chatter going on, I can hear very little of what is going on. Luckily I have a nasally and irritating voice, so at least I can hear myself some of the time.

Three streams of molten silver ripple from the blade of Tremor's sword, punching into the champion's cuirass, but again they seem to have no real effect on the hulking figure. The champion and Tremor exchange blows once more before the Dwergar falls back.

Maebh prepares to blast the champion with fire.
"How many steps do I get as a free action again?" - Ladyhawk.
"Five steps."
"Cool. Can I shout a warning to Harold and Tremor?" - Ladyhawk.
"Of course you can."
"Alright then, I take five steps forward and shout, 'Duck!'" - Ladyhawk.
"Where? I love ducks!" - Dev and myself simultaneously.
"I hate ducks. A duck ate my honey-soy duck." - Opal, quietly.
"Holy ****. That's morbid."
"A duck broke my foot once." - LD.
"What!?" - Most everyone, save for me as I have heard this story before.
"It's a long story."
"The short version is, I was on a trampoline. A duck flew down, scared me and pushed me off the trampoline." - LD, to stunned silence.

Wings came up with an idea. Basically, he wants to be able to carve runes into his flesh. The rules stipulate that they may be carved onto any metal item, but it is a cool idea. The solution? I'm going to write talents that allow Engineers to carve the runes onto other materials. And Warlocks will gain a flesh-rune mechanic, because that seemed kind of evil.

The blast of flame smashes the champion to ground, but the undead warrior is still not completely felled.
"He's down! Kill him!" - Maebh, ignoring the fact that it is already dead.

I had to leave the room at this point to rescue our soft drinks from the freezer, and so everyone took great delight in screaming at the recording device until I returned. Such gems as, "STOP TOUCHING MY DICE!" and, "You lost The Game.... Again..." and lastly, "Does anybody have a lovely bunch of coconuts?"

I return and impose some form of order upon the session.

On the plus side, not as bad as the infamous anime pornography incident.

Harold obliges and his blades flash as he hacks the champion apart.

The armour of the champion and the Wolf King is far too heavy and impractical for any of the party to use, even Harold. On the other hand, their weapons are both expertly crafted and well-maintained.

The champion bears heavy plate harness, a massive sword and a weight solid-iron shield. On the champion's belt is a ring of heavy iron keys, which Harold takes, along with the champion's sword.

Maebh stalks over to the decapitated Wolf King and examines his corpse. His armour is ornate and heavy, as is his longsword. His wolf-pelt cloak, while likely rich in a past life, is now dank and musty and frankly, smells like ****. On his left hand, he bears a thick, rune-engraved golden ring. Maebh takes the longsword for herself and tosses the ring to Tremor, who has shown a somewhat disconcerting urge to collect expensive jewellery.

I've known Wings for years. Surely he should know by now that Lord of the Rings are my favourite books and movies of all time....

Leaving the dining hall, the party goes up the stairs, coming upon the first floor. Opening the door, the party comes across a room in which a great number of skeletons are working away at desks and stacking books in bookshelves. No moves are made towards the party, they simply work at their tasks, sorting through books, stacking them and writing them. Progress is slow, but steady. The party search through the books, stepping around the skeletal beings. All the books they look at are written in a language none of the group are familiar with, though it seems to be similar to the Scribhinn, the Danann script.

From what they can tell, it seems that the books are written histories. And while they are almost illegible, they are beautiful works of art.

As Dev points out, the skeletons seem to be almost magical automated typewriters.

Each party member picks up a handful of books and scrolls, stuffing them into backpacks and then continue up the tower. Every room they come across is much the same as the first, filled with more skeletons creating written works.

The party finally reach the top of the tower, where the staircase ends with a much larger door. Where the other doors were ordinary, unadorned wooden affairs, this door is much larger, made of dark carved iron. A carven, rather daemonic looking face glares at the party from the door.

I remind Opal that she can jump in at any time, and she offers that currently she is eating a steak in Dreven's Fortress inn.

LD suggests opening the door.
"That sounds like a mis-steak." - to laughter and groans of disgust.
"I would join in the puns, but the steaks are too high." - Sins, to more laughter than I got.
"You're one of my favourite people." - Ladyhawk, to Sins, grinning sheepishly.

The door is not locked and the party cautiously creep inside. Immediately they are set upon by two skeletal guards and a deadwolf.
And I explain how Initiative works for about the fiftieth time as everyone bar Sins does it wrong again. I need to come up with a better system I think.

Maebh immediately opens up with another Fury of the River, smashing the two guards into shattered piles of bone on the ground. Only half of the deadwolf remains, glowering and slavering at the party as they stride past it.

It took longer to roll Initiative than finish the fight there, which is another sign that it needs to be more intuitive than it is.
"Sorry." - Ladyhawk.

Against the back wall, an unconscious dwarf is chained to the wall in an iron cage.
"You breed fast." - Sins, to Wings. Massive laughter.
In the centre of the room, there is a large, rusted iron table covered in bloodstains, engraved runes and heavy chains. Tremor and Breanna inspect the table and determine between them that the runes are of a cursing variety, and that they are specifically used for some kind of transmutation. Basically, one taps into the power of the runes to change the form of whatever lies upon the table into a pre-determined shape.

"I'm disappointed. When you said cursing, I thought the table was for swearing at people who get too close." - Sins.
"I'm glad I wasn't the only one who pictured the runes saying, '****.' " - Ladyhawk, laughing.
"The way they actually work, you could end up with **** actually on the table." - Opal.
"That's some curse."

Tremor thinks about copying these runes for his own use. Essentially, Tremor's runecraft is a form of Spirit magic, where Tremor takes the ambient energy of spirits in the world around him and binds it into the engravings he places upon metal. The runes however, instead of binding the energy of spirits, are actually binding daemonic entities and so are both far more powerful and far more volatile.

Instead he walks over to the unconscious dwarf and recognises him. The Dwergar in the cage is none other than Tremor's cousin, Barandin Rostenson of Clan Stonefist. He does not look in a good way, dried blood streaking his face, beard and chest. He would appear dead if it weren't for the slight rise and fall of his chest with his breathing. As Tremor approaches, he looks up and a fierce golden light gleams in his savage eyes. The chains hold him back as he begins to growl at his approaching cousin.

I figure they need yet another hint here.
"Now LD's knowledge of the Leathe legends has suggested that the varghulf condition is a curse. This table has been revealed as one which places a curse on whatever is chained to it."
"Can we change him back?" - Wings.
"My knowledge of the varghulf is that I destroy them..." - Ladyhawk, whispering.
"On another note, not only do you guys steal everything which isn't nailed down, LD even stole my name." - Opal, whose real name is very similar to Breanna.
"To be fair, she picked it because she was too lazy to come up with a name particularly different from her own." - LD's real name is also similar to Breanna, which naturally makes it confusing as hell trying to differentiate who we're speaking to.
"Anyway, what are you doing with Barandin?"
"Can we work the table?" - Wings.
"You might be able to."
"Maebh's leaving the room then." - Ladyhawk.
"So we could work the table perhaps?" - Wings.
"You could, but there might be an easier way to do it..." - Blank looks from everyone... "Your walking magical battery might have an easier alternative."
"Walking magical battery? Do you have a better solution than the table?" - Wings.
"Uh, yeah don't use the table. It seems dangerous and we don't know what we're working with." - Ladyhawk, to Dev's laughter.
"Right, but PG said you might have a solution." - Wings.
"This is a curse...." - With heavy emphasis on the final word.
"Oh right, Remove Curse... How many times have you hinted that?" - Ladyhawk, laughing.
"Hmm a couple... Two sessions now."
"Should I get the bowl of water then?" - Ladyhawk.
"You can."
"Will it help?" - Ladyhawk.
"Yes, it will help."
"Right, bowl of water then please?" - Ladyhawk, asking around.
They start discussing where to get water from.
"Yeah some water from a skin will do, right?" - Ladyhawk.
"Well yeah sure. You know you can make water in your hands right?"
"Oh yeah!" - Ladyhawk.

Maebh begins the ritual to cleanse the cursed Dwergar, and finally places her hand upon his forehead. He tries to bite her, but she avoids his gnashing teeth. Upon being cured, his eyes turn back to a dark, almost black grey and he sags against the wall. He looks around confused and his eyes eventually fall on Tremor.

"Tremor, is that you? What are you doing here?" - Barandin Stonefist.
Harold moves forward and uses the keys on the champion's pilfered ring to unlock the cage and manacles.
"I have news from home Tremor. Your brother, he is... Well, a ******** to put it lightly. I am sorry, but your father is dead. Your brother killed him for the rulership. He has also had your sister sold off to a rival clan. To my knowledge, everyone we grew up with, friends we fought with, are dead. Or exiled, but they're probably dead too." - Barandin, trying to get everything out in case he lapses into unconsciousness again.
"You're a noble?" - Maebh, quietly.
"Yes." - Tremor, also quietly.
"****." - Maebh, concerned.

Tremor's cousin is physically battered, unarmed and unarmoured, but it seems he insists he is well enough to try and leave this place with the party.

"We will help you rescue your sister Tremor." - Maebh, gripping her spear tightly.
"Yes, we shall." - Harold.
Tremor nods his gratitude.

From the main room there are two doorways, not counting the large iron door they just came through, one to left of where they stand and one straight ahead. To the right is an open balcony which overlooks the courtyard and the mountain.

The party inspects the room straight ahead first. It appears to be an armoury of sorts. To their left is another wooden door. Four suits of heavy steel plate harness line the walls, too heavy and impractical for any of the party. The cloth and leather of all four suits are worn with age. Upon one sits a highly ornate steel helm in the shape of a wolf-skull which Tremor takes.
Against the left wall lies a display case with a powerful hunting bow and five well-crafted arrows, which Kel'Serrar claims.
Against the right wall is a wooden desk covered in parchment and a single book which details the art of scroll-crafting. Tremor takes both the bow and the parchment.
Next to it is a chest which Maebh points at and it pops open.
Successful Channelling Skill Check to open it.
Dark black and green wisps of lightning crackle from within it, indicating that it was probably warded. Within the chest is a small selection of already completed scrolls, a wolf-fang talisman and two wands, one of alderwood and the other rune-inscribed oak. Tremor takes the scrolls and Maebh takes the talisman and wands. The mage studies the talisman and determines that it grants the wearer the favour of woodland spirits.
Essentially +10 to Survival Checks in woodland areas.
Another chest lies against the back wall, which Harold approaches and unlocks using his pilfered keys. In it is a fine steel dagger and longsword, an enchanted thick black cloak, and a steel war axe. The Invarrian takes it all and gives the axe to Barandin and the cloak to Kel'Serrar.

Tremor heads back out into the main room, before taking the other doorway. The rest of the group meanwhile go through the doorway from the armoury and come upon what they assume to be the Wolf King's personal living quarters.

A sumptuous bed which has not been used for probably hundreds of years dominates the room, and a wardrobe and chest made up the rest of the furnishings. Maebh immediately inspects the chest and split the money and small bag of gemstones inside. A cask of pipeweed is set aside for Tremor.

Tremor
Going through the door they Tremor first notices long wooden table with a comfortable leather chair. Along two walls are expansive bookshelves with considerably less books in them than they were constructed to hold. There is also a small fireplace.

The Dwergar immediately takes one of the books off a shelf, an exotic tome written in gold ink, bound in leather and trimmed with bone, and sets himself down upon the chair to read. Flicking through the book, named the Codex of Blood, Tremor finds a treasure-trove of knowledge regarding ancient necromantic masters. The Dwergar, flicking through, comes across the first page of a chapter embossed with the symbol of a flaming pine tree. He has a moment to recognise the resemblance between that symbol and the one engraved upon his amulet before he is wracked with a not-inconsiderable amount of pain, causing him to drop the book. The pain subsides in a moment, leaving him with a splitting headache, and he opens his eyes to find the book again, which is lying open at a different page, one detailing the master Odon. He closes it and slams the book into his backpack.

Tremor looks through each book in turn as the rest of the party finish in the Wolf King's chamber, and continues to do so after they come in to the study.
"What's up?" - Tremor, in a non-committal greeting.
He then picks up another book from the pile next to him, an impressive tome bound in carved wooden plates. Opening it, Tremor reads the title, Hosimmo's Articles of Daemonic Manifestation in blood upon the linen page, before his mind is consumed by images of the brutal carnage of daemonic legions locked in an endless war. In seconds, his mind snaps back to reality and he is left mentally scarred by the experience.
The others look at him, panting heavily and with a fist clenched to his forehead.
"Are you okay?" - Maebh.
"Yeah, sure..." - Tremor, grimacing.

At the end of the book is a note, written in black ink upon parchment in spidery handwriting. It is pinned to the wooden plate binding the book.


My research indicates that Hosimmo was slain by a summoned pack of daemons he thought were under his control, a grim warning to one who would attempt to replicate his feats for themselves.

Sitting on the table is a small blackthorn puzzle-box, lying where Tremor placed it for now, having taken it from the bookshelf.
"Can I give this a go?" - Harold, to Tremor.
"Yeah sure." - Tremor, nursing his head and taking a break from combing through the books. One of them has just belched a cloud of red smoke into his eyes.
"You're really not having a good day." - Breanna, vaguely sympathetically as Harold starts to work out the puzzle-box.
Almost a minute later, Kel'Serrar snatches it from the increasingly frustrated Invarrian and deftly opens it.
Within the box lies several sheets of parchment, covered in line after line of tiny inked lettering. Kel'Serrar takes a quick look at them, realises they're magical and passes them to Maebh. A quick glance tells her that these, The Scripts of Udlar, contain several advanced magical theories which she might be able to put into use with her own ritual magics.

Tremor takes every other book, stuffing them in his backpack for later reading. They're heading out now.

The party takes the staircase once more, eventually reaching the entrance hall and then down once again into the dungeons. Everything is much as how they left it, the militia talking quietly with those who are trapped in the cages. The men who had been affected by the varghulf curse were still snarling and reaching for the militia who had retreated as far away from those two cages as possible.

"We've found out some information while you were gone." - Jon, the sergeant of the militia, to Harold.
"Let us here it then." - Harold, taking the offered handshake.
"As it happens, these people have been taken for use in the mines. The enemy wants these dark gemstones from beneath the castle. Anyone who resists is set upon by the deadwolves and then risen to serve anyway." - Jon, grim and wary. "I take it you were successful? The Wolf King is no more?"
"Indeed." - Harold, who takes up his ring of keys and starts unlocking cages, until only the last two remain unlocked. The occupants continue to snarl and rage, throwing themselves at the bars.
"Maebh, you're needed here." - Harold, staring down the bestial villagers.
The mage comes forward and removes the curses from both the men, leaving them dazed and confused. Harold is opening the doors before they hear a loud crash and some cursing from behind them and up the stairs.
"In the name of both the gods, why do I keep falling!?" - Unseen voice, who it seems falls over a lot.
"I shall take the villagers and the militia back out the tunnels." - Harold, who gathers his men and takes them out, Kel'Serrar following him, still wearing the shape of the Invarrian duellist.
His reasons for this are just to confuse matters, but I get the feeling Sins probably wanted to play a changeling kind of character from the very beginning.
Maebh leads Tremor, Barandin and Breanna up the stairs once more.

With a hand on her sword, Therressa Bannimagen looks over the oncoming figures.
"Would you know of Harold Oakenshield?" - Therressa, questioning.
"Yes, downstairs." - Breanna, laughing.
"HAROLD! Someone wants you!" - Maebh.
The Invarrian hears the yell and continues down the tunnels, perhaps slightly faster than before.
"OAKENSHIELD!" - Theressa, her voice slightly familiar to Harold.
He stops, the voice ringing a bell as a distant and vague memory stirs. He seems to remember that voice being connected somehow with his sister, and a very blurry night which friends informed him the next day involved a drinking contest which he lost.
He remembers nothing of the night itself, only the next morning, where he awoke on a softly rocking ship halfway to Unterguardt.
"It looks like you recognise that voice. Shall we keep going?" - Kel'Serrar, to Harold.
The Invarrian nods and they continue on their way and leave the tunnels.

The rest of the party follow in their wake, Therressa tagging along. They come to the cart, where a strange horse is grazing near the cart. When they emerge, they see Harold strapping swords to his own horse, Amadeus, with someone who could be his twin offering mocking advice over his shoulder.
Therressa takes a random stab and guesses that the serious one is the Harold she is after.
"Oakenshield!" - Therressa, grabbing his attention and throwing a letter at the duellist. He snatches it out of the air and opens it. It is a message from his sister, Helga.

Don't open this if you are player other than Dev, as I don't think he has revealed this to anyone yet.

Dear brother,

I hope this letter finds you well, though knowing you as well as I do, I rather doubt it to be the case.

Since you have left, our family's fortunes have improved greatly. Just last ice-season I purchased another three longships and fully outfitted them all. A wise investment, for we reaped the profits tenfold come the reaving-season.

Hosker was made captain of the Stormlord's Guard too. He looks just like I remember Father, though Hosker is likely far more skilled with a blade. He might even be a match for you Harold.
I have a litter on the way too brother. I shall name one after you of course, and I hope that I can introduce them to their other uncle before they grow too old. Likely they will have come by the time you receive this message, but I write to you as things are now.

I have some ill news too I am afraid brother. The insufferable Windchasers had been on my back about our business acquisitions for seasons now. Their scion, that big bastard Ovar, he even threatened me last season. Told me that he'd fire our ships if I sent them out again. I told him that if he did, he'd answer to you, trusting that your reputation would see him off. Unfortunately, it would seem he took it as a challenge and he did try to fire one of our vessels.

Since then I've kept a close eye on his family's dealings, and behold! There were three longships on their ledger which had just popped into existence of their own accord. Naturally, I informed the authorities and the Windchasers are now in disgrace. Of Ovar, I have not seen hair nor hide of him for over a month now, but rumour has it he took his ship and is scouring the Northlands for you.

I don't know where this letter will find you, but I do hope it finds you before he does and gives you some warning. I rather doubt he intends to just have a friendly chat.

With love,
Your sister, Helga Oakenshield

That's all for now, back soon. :smallsmile:

Here we are. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18107809&postcount=136)

Phoenixguard09
2014-09-14, 04:21 AM
We're back. :smallbiggrin:

"I am Therressa Bannin- Banni- Ban- something, I'm not entirely sure. My parents never were really clear on that." - Therressa, struggling with her surname.
"Anyway, Harold's sister asked a favour of me and she's an old friend so I said yes. And he owes me money anyway." - Therressa, to the rest of the party and gesturing towards Harold.
"Wait, what money?" - Harold, halting his reading for a moment.
"You owe me about five sulvers." - Therressa, to the duellist.
"Hmph..." - Harold, still reading.
Therressa approaches him, drawing her sword. She brandishes it threateningly.
"Give me my money." - Therressa, to Harold.
The duellist looks unimpressed and mounts his steed before drawing his sabre.
"Do you really want to do this?" - Harold, at ease.

Therressa runs over to her own horse and mounts it, putting herself on a fairly even footing with Harold.
"Help me out and there's two sulvers in it for you." - Therressa, to Kel'Serrar, who nods thoughtfully.
The ranger, still in Invarrian form, saunters over to the wagon where Bach sleeps peacefully.
"I'm holding him hostage Harold, give her the money." - Kel'Serrar, the mercenary bastard.
"Get Bach!" - LD, to laughter.
"I'd really prefer if this didn't devolve into inter-party violence. If he's not going to give you the money, I suggest dropping it for now." - Wearily, to Opal.
"Yeah, that's alright." - Opal.

The two Invarrians size each other up, the party looking between them with bated breath. Finally, Therressa sighs.
"If you will not give me the money, then I will just follow you around till you change your mind." - Therressa, sheathing her sword.
"Oh God, Dev why didn't you just give her the money?" - Wings.
"She was going to follow us around anyway." - Dev, rather magnificently. Don't know how he did it but we were all impressed.
"Says God!" - Ladyhawk.
"Hi guys." - To laughter. Sometimes I can be funny too!

Now, with Therressa tagging along on Augustus, the party head back to Dreven, having eventually loaded up the rescued prisoners into the back of the cart, drawn by another horse now that Toirneach is apparently too good for that duty. Due to the prisoners being carted along, the rest of the party who are without steeds walk alongside the militia.

Maebh takes point on Toirneach, Harold next on Amadeus with Bach trotting alongside. The cart itself is driven by Tremor and filled with those who were rescued and too weak to walk. The militia and Kel'Serrar walk alongside and Therressa on Augustus make up the rear, carrying Breanna too with Wolfgang alongside. Within minutes, Kel'Serrar has disappeared, but they do seem to have picked up another prisoner who sits silently upon the cart....

On the way, Harold drops back for a moment and speaks to Ingir, who strides purposefully forward, back to Dreven. The man is obviously in poor condition, but seems driven to use what strength he has left to get home.
"In the castle, there is a lot of high quality steel-work lying around. I don't know how many enemies remain up there, but one day, gather up some stout-hearted men and take what you can." - Harold.
"Thank you." - Ingir, simply and Harold can tell that the man is grateful for far more than just the steel.

Upon arriving back in Dreven close to sunset, the first thing they realise is that, despite the hour the people are ecstatic. The people of Dreven stream out onto the main street to acclaim their heroes, who have returned with many of those they feared were lost.
"PARTY IN THE FORTRESS!" - LD.
Tremor keeps an eye out for the witch, Magdalyn, but he cannot see her.
I reveal here that the barkeep, Aurel, has died in their absence.
"Yeah, he died from awful-****ing-name-itosis."
"He has been replaced by his cousin, Anel?" - Wings.
"I kind of like Arnald actually, let's go with that."

Sitting astride a dark grey horse beside the stables, and staying well away from the press is a dark, weathered Danann clad in blackened steel scale armour and a long, hooded green cloak. At his back is a powerful bow and a quiver of arrows and in his hand a leaf-bladed spear.
Where the party notice him fairly quickly, Harold can also smell more in the area.
"Let's leave as quickly as possible." - Maebh, who blanches at the other Danann's sudden appearance.
"Agreed." - Tremor, fingering the hilt of his sword.
"We are surrounded I think. There's more than just him." - Harold, sniffing the air.
Tremor dismounts from the wagon and takes aside one of the villagers, pointing over his shoulder at the Danann.
"When did he get here?" - Tremor, quietly.
"He came by here yesterday actually. Said he was passing through." - Villager, looking warily at the Danann.
It's obvious that this individual has most of the village afraid of him. So naturally, Tremor approaches him.

The Danann looks down at the dwarf like he is-
"Dirt?" - Wings.
"No, more like you're a child who just rolled yourself in ****."

Meanwhile, Kel'Serrar has taken on a few different shapes and managed to ingratiate himself into at least three separate families, all of them believing he is a long-lost relation. Essentially, he's getting hugs from people he has never met before, but they are utterly convinced that he is their cousin Jon.

Barandin and Therressa, despite having done nothing really have been showered in praise, and in Barandin's case, even clothed. They've been accepted as part of the group who have delivered there people back to them. At some point, Therressa manages to duck off to the Fortress to use the privy.
And the house-rule strikes again!

Maebh simply ducks away from the press of people and speaks quietly with her horse and Breanna stays out of the new Danann's line of sight as much as possible, trying to avoid being eaten.

Harold walks Amadeus over to where Tremor is unsuccessfully trying to initiate contact with the stranger. Seeing the Invarrian, the mounted Danann rolls his eyes.
"Why must you bother me? Can you not see I want nothing to do with either of you?" - Stranger, still scanning the crowd.
"What are you doing in my town?" - Tremor, bluntly.
"Your town?" - Stranger.
"Yes, my town. Why are you here?" - Tremor.
"None of your business. If you want to remain alive, keep to your own affairs." - Stranger. He immediately kicks his horse into a trot and rides out of the village.
Harold, who has been concentrating on deciphering the scents he can pick up, has determined there are at least three distinct Danann scents in the area, other than Kel'Serrar and Maebh. But there might be more.

There is a bit of discussion about overall plans here. The initial plan is to leave as quickly as possible and to go north, to Nordtarnet to save Tremor's sister, and from there perhaps on to Varr, at least for Harold. Of course, that's going to require going over the ocean, so that means leaving Naille and finding a kingdom with a coastline and then chartering a ship.

Tremor finds Barandin in the crowd and takes him aside to discuss matters with him.
"How can we find Marya? Do you know where she is now?" - Tremor, asking about his sister.
"Well last I saw, Bain gave her to the Windrider clan for more warriors to expand Nordtarnet's lands." - Barandin.
"Lands? Nordtarnet had practically no lands, it was but a border-town." - Tremor, confused.
"Aye, it was at that, ten years ago. Now Bain's gone mad, expanded in all directions at once, but mainly south into the Northmenn lands. A lot of the town of Nordtarnet itself has been replaced by new stone structures. He's turned the place into a fortress." - Barandin.
"So he has spent the strength of Nordtarnet's fighters expanding his lands?" - Tremor.
"To an extent, which is why he bargained with other wealthy clans, like the Windriders. Marya for more swords." - Barandin, grim.
"I will get her back cousin. Now, I have taken some pieces from that bastard we fought up there. Let's start re-forging it to fit you." - Tremor.
The Dwergar make for Ingir's forge, which is still afire with magical coals, where Tremor produces the armour he has plundered and begins to melt it down.

This will take some time, so the party elect to wait in Dreven for as long as it takes Tremor to complete this. The villagers grant their saviours one of the dwellings now left abandoned by the slain occupants, which the party accept with great gratitude.

Harold stables Amadeus, finds some small amount of alcohol and then finds his militia, deciding to spend some time with them, and enjoy the camaraderie.

Maebh sits in Toirneach's stable-stall, talking with him quietly through their mind-link. Therressa is seeing to Augustus in the next stall over. Upon finishing, the Invarrian offers to brush down Toirneach as well, which Maebh solemnly allows.

Kel'Serrar has continued his quest to ingratiate himself with every person in the village as some kind of relative. So far he has been extraordinarily successful.

Breanna meanwhile has found a tree and is dozing in it, dangling a tail down for Wolfgang to bat at playfully until it gets cold enough that she seeks shelter inside.

The night passes uneventfully.

The next morning, the party engages in much the same tasks. Most of the village is awoken early in the morning by the sound of a hammer pounding steel on an anvil as Tremor takes up his work once more.

At around midday, a party of troops approaches from the road to the west. A small troop, almost twenty men bearing forest-green kite shields, emblazoned with a golden sparrow. A familiar face rides alongside them, clad in a dark grey-green cloak.

"Oh yay! Is it that guy?" - Dev, referring to Carhold I think.
"I don't think it's a yay Dev." - Ladyhawk.
"No, it's not a guy. It's a woman."
"Aww no, not her!" - LD, panicked.
"Arrgh! I hate her. It's that stupid Dhara, isn't it? Where are my fireballs?" - Ladyhawk.
"No, it is not Mayor Redwyn's wife, nor is it Dhara..."
"Oh good then." - Ladyhawk.
"Oh, NO!" - Dev.
"Oh yes...." - Sins.
"Sins is happy to see her."
"Only because I look like someone else." - Sins.
"Yes, it is in fact Chirya guys."

Beside her is another man, clad in much the same way as the infantry, in chain with a green leather tabard over it with a sword at his belt. Unlike the men, on his helm he bears a single white feather and he rides a horse.
Chirya recognises Harold, who is overseeing the militia's drills and rides over to him, ignoring the scowl on the faces of both the leader of the troops and the Invarrian.
"No hard feelings regarding those arrows I sent into you last we met I trust?" - Chirya, dismounting and offering a hand.
Harold thinks for a moment before shaking the proffered hand.
"You're a professional, I understand." - Harold.
"Not that professional, I missed. If I were that much a professional, we would not be having this conversation." - Chirya, darkly humorous. "Now, would Kel'Serrar still be with you?"
"We got separated in the fortress to the north. I do not know where he is now." - Harold, lying through his teeth. She knows it too, but will not call him a liar to his face. With a pointed look, she continues.
"Well, if you do see him, let him know that I want to speak with him again." - Chirya.
Tremor walks up to where the two of them are speaking, Barandin trailing behind him, having ceased smithing when they noticed the band of soldiers arrive.
"You are still breathing dwarf? I was sure I had shot truly that night." - Chirya.
Tremor merely smiles in response, but it never reaches his eyes.

In the light, and with a new day, one can see that a lock of the Dwergar's usually coal-black hair is now a streak of silver-blond. He does not know why this happened, but his dreams last night were troubled indeed, haunted by a voice he was sure he did not know, and yet sounded so familiar. Countless battles played over in his mind, living warriors pitted against hordes of undying monsters. And over it all, flashes of a burning pine wreathed in smoke.

"So why are you here?" - Harold, to Chirya, snapping Tremor's thoughts back to the present.
"I've been hired by the king of Naille himself, though he is but a whelp. I have been attached to this patrol to guide them through these lands. Apparently patrols were going missing, and word has spread of my woodcraft." - Chirya, leaning into Harold and speaking a little quieter. "There's no plan other than escalating the conflict and screwing with them all. To add to the attraction, they're even paying me to do it."
"Sounds like fun. How much are you being paid?" - Harold, brow raised.
"I don't know and to be honest, I don't really care. It's always been about the hunt for me, although it serves my purposes to see as many people consumed by this conflict as possible. If those in power prefer to believe I'm aiding them for the coppers, well that's their problem." - Chirya.
"So you're coming through here on patrol?" - Harold, fishing for information.
"Yes, we're going through all of Naille's westernmost lands. There have been some troubling rumours coming out of Summer Hill." - Chirya, stepping back to a more normal distance.
At this, Therressa, who has been following the conversation from a distance, chimes in.
"I passed through those lands recently, and the rumours are probably true." - Therressa.

Having surreptitiously overheard this conversation, Kel'Serrar retreats to the party's dwelling and pens a note, which he will attach to another tree outside town.
I haven't gotten it yet, but I will post it as soon as Sins writes it for me.I finally received the letter.



"Well the rumours are frankly quite worrying." - The captain, having dismounted and offering a hand Harold, who shakes it firmly. "Captain Olivar Westbrook."
"Harold Oakenshield, of Varr. What rumours are there?" - Harold.
"Wailing monstrosities roaming the countryside, breaking into hamlets and devouring the occupants. And then Elspeth moved against the township. From all we know, at least one legion is still encamped around it. Anyone who ventures there does not return." - Captain Westbrook.

"Except me." - Therressa, to Maebh under her breath.
"What do you know?" - Maebh, responding in kind.
"There's a lord who has taken over the town. He has control of these creatures, keeping them locked up during the day, but he releases them at night. There's a Feartarbh in his command too." - Therressa.

"Has Naille sent any forces to check on the situation?" - Harold.
"I probably should not be saying this, but the kingdom cannot afford to send out armies." - Captain Westbrook.
"Where are Naille's armies then?" - Harold.
"You misunderstand me, we don't have them. Extended conflicts with Elspeth and now these attacks from unseen quarters in our own countryside. We don't know where half our men have gone. Communication has broken down and we have lost far too many men on routine patrols." - Captain Westbrook, grim.
"What happens then if Elspeth makes a move on Naille itself?" - Harold.
"We don't know. We're keeping large patrols out so that at least we'll have forewarning, but there are only so many patrols we can send out as each has to be much larger than usual or they are never seen again. In fact, this here is the smallest patrol we've sent out since the Carhold fell." - Captain Westbrook.
"So you're bluffing." - Harold, a statement, not a question.
"Essentially yes, we don't have the forces to repel them if they attack." - Captain Westbrook.
"Wait, the Carhold? Isn't that the holding of the ambassador in Summer Hill?" - Tremor.
"Yes, it was. Lord Edmond is presumed dead, although we have no way of knowing if he has survived what has befallen that town. No word has reached us of his continued survival." - Captain Westbrook.
"Well I should get back to overseeing the training of these men then." - Harold, shaking the captain's hand once more.
"It has been a pleasure Sir Oakenshield. Good luck to you and your companions on your ventures." - Captain Westbrook, re-mounting.
"Till we meet again Oakenshield." - Chirya, also remounting.
They lead the troops through the village and down the east road.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully and the party enjoy their well-deserved break.

Some small amount of healing for those who had taken wounds and a recharge of Luck too. Tremor also finds out that Magdalyn left with no fanfare in the middle of the night while they were gone, leaving nothing behind. Not even her door.

It is late evening and Tremor and Barandin still work at the forge, intent on their task. The rest of the party have withdrawn to their rooms in their communal dwelling. Then, through the main street of the village comes the sound of hoofbeats. A party of cavalry are riding through the settlement.

Harold, who had planned on a quiet, alcohol-filled evening, sets aside his rum and approaches a window, joined by Maebh and Breanna, both of whom were awoken from slumber by the hoofbeats.

Kel'Serrar, has taken up residence in a family's house as their second cousin-twice-removed Shadie, looks out his window too, but makes no other move. Therressa meanwhile hears the hoofbeats, but rationalises it as the village's horses and goes back to sleep.

Those looking out the window see the party of five horsemen stop outside their house. One of their number dismounts. In appearance, he is tall and gaunt, his long face pale and utterly without joy, fixed in a constant arrogant sneer and framed by brown dreadlocks, held by golden clasps. A longsword and a dagger hang at his belt and a strong bow is at his back. He is clad in a curious leather jerkin and a rich fur-lined brown cloak.
"Maebh Preachain-Eite! Are you in there?" - Male voice, in the Cainte.
"Oh no..." - Ladyhawk.
"I have no compunctions regarding burning down this house. Are you in there?" - Stranger.
They do not respond.
"You have caused me a lot of pain. You have caused many people a lot of pain. And you will pay for it." - Stranger.
Harold finishes belting on his sword and together he, Maebh and Breanna stride outside. Therressa follows them.
"I heard shouting and couldn't get back to sleep." - Therressa, by way of explanation.
"Who are you?" - Harold, belligerently to the stranger.
"I am someone so far above you that you could not even imagine. Stand aside Invarrian, I care only for Maebh." - Stranger, a Danann.

Barandin taps Tremor's arm as the latter is hammering at the steel.
"Yes?" - Tremor.
"Your friends seem to have some company." - Barandin, pointing to the standoff between their company and the Danann.
Tremor leaves the steel to cool and both start to walk to the confrontation.

"Maebh, it has been too long." - Stranger, with a grim smile, revealing teeth far too pointed, even for a Danann.
"Not long enough Bastaird." - Maebh, revealing she knows who this is.

This spoiler has stuff containing bits and pieces of Maebh's backstory. It's pretty obvious by now, so I guess it's not too bad if the players read this. Just keep in mind that your characters don't know all this until/unless Maebh tells them.
Bastaird Asaldiog was one of the only mages in Maebh's clan. You know, the one she practically destroyed?

He also had a creepy obsession/fixation with her, which she did not reciprocate in any way whatsoever. He has a propensity for fire magics and showing away, and did so regularly. As his name suggests, he is a bastard son, left abandoned by both his parents. The clan took him in and named him as such to remind the orphan of where he came from.

Over the years the name became a point of pride for Bastaird, who looked for every opportunity to be different from those around him.

When Maebh left the clan burning in her wake, Bastaird took that as a personal insult. He cared little for the fact that she had just destroyed the people who had given him life, but more that in running away she had rejected him entirely, something he could not abide. Using the anger of the clan to his advantage, he vowed to hunt her down and punish her for her misdeeds, though personally he cared only for making her suffer as he felt she had done to him.

And that's the backstory I came up with after I asked Ladyhawk what her stalker's name was and she replied, "Bastard ********."

Bastaird draws a golden dagger from his belt and hold it up in slender fingers.
"You have something of mine Maebh." - Bastaird, and Maebh can see that the dagger in his hands is almost identical to the one she has in her possession.
Swift as a snake, Bastaird strikes at Maebh with the golden blade in his hand, but she manages to jump back just in time.
Weapons are drawn all around. From his hidden vantage point, Kel'Serrar takes up his bow and nocks an arrow.
Tremor starts running towards the standoff, fumbling in his backpack for a vial of "boom-sauce."

An arrow flashes down from a rooftop and lands in the ground in front of Tremor. The dwarf doesn't even check his run. Two arrows smash into his back, but they barely penetrate the chain hauberk he wears. He stumbles for a moment, rights himself and keeps running. And then hurls the vial with all his strength.

Unfortunately, he missed his intended target. He didn't hit the bow-armed Danann behind Bastaird. He's close though. The vial disappears in a fiery explosion, which wreathes the ranger's horse in flames, which naturally startles all the other mounts. The Danann pack struggle to rein in their steeds while all the ranger can do is throw himself from the saddle as his horse wails piteously. He rips his cloak off and throws it to the ground before the liquid flames can spread any further.

Harold draws a blade and attempts to interpose himself between Bastaird and Maebh, but the dagger-armed Danann backs away, allowing a woman armed with a spear and clad in a heavy chain hauberk with a tough leather sleeved jerkin over the top, complete with a long brown hooded coat, to come forward to meet Harold. She swings the leaf-bladed spear at the Invarrian, but he easily avoids the strike.

Another Danann woman, also armed with a spear, is still on horseback and as she chants under her breath, she is surrounded by a dark purplish wisps of magic. On the ground beneath her horse, a dark purple mist forms and what little of her skin can be seen under her dark cloak and robes glistens a dark purple-black. The mist begins to crawl along the ground towards Maebh, Harold and Therressa.

Maebh and Kel'Serrar in particular start to feel an internal drain on themselves, like an oppression on their spirits. Shrugging the uncomfortable feeling off, Maebh concentrates on calling the power of the storm to her location. She has to really struggle, wielding more power than she had since she immolated her village. The clouds above her rumble with thunder and lightning flashes around her. She directs some of the bolts at her enemies, rocking the mounted mage in her saddle in a flash of clashing magic. A few other bolts flash down, but most just miss their targets, the draining effect on Maebh taking its toll.

From his hidden vantage point, Kel'Serrar takes aim at one of the Danann to the rear, a tall, powerfully built individual, clad in tough leathers and bearing a black forest lion pelt over his shoulders. Kel'Serrar's aim is true and the man falls from his horse, transfixed by the arrow in his throat.

"Mharu!" - The mounted mage, who releases her hold on the magic mist creeping towards Maebh and the two Invarrians and dismounts to run towards where the stricken Danann lies.
"Naira, take Mharu and fall back! To the forest!" - Bastaird, who helps the burned ranger to his feet before mounting his own horse.
Harold and Therressa both make for the spear-armed warrior, swords drawn and she intercepts both blades with her spear before leaping back and accepting a hand up from the ranger who has mounted the warrior's horse.
"You may have won this round Maebh, but I will follow you. You've always been mine..." - Bastaird, before turning and riding out of the village.

And we left it there....

The Wrap-Up:
Not too bad a session. Unfortunately it wasn't a great session for Opal to join in on due to how long our hiatus had been. We had to spend precious time going over the rules at various points and got very bogged down in off-topic chatter several times.

Unfortunately, Opal felt a little useless at this point, not helped by the fact that she barely got a chance to have a go in combat. Hopefully the next session might be a little more eventful. We intend to have an admittedly short session on the 27th of September. Hopefully we can make the combats run a little smoother.

As usual, thanks for reading and if you have any questions or comments, please go ahead and post. :D

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-09-17, 09:30 AM
It has come to my attention that because I took some time to update the first post, some might not have been aware that there was a new session posted.

Just making sure that people know, the session is up. :smallwink:

We're very likely to play again on the 27th of September. And because Wings is looking like being late, it'll be a quick one to write up too. Hopefully.

We're also expecting Dev to have his presentation ready for Whispers in the Dark, which he will run and I will chronicle for him because he hates typing and I'm the one looking at doing journalism for a living. :smallbiggrin:

Anyway, Ladyhawk and I intend to play twins, Branimir and Benedykta Voijinski, or Bran and Benny for short. Sins and Wings will both be playing too. Whether or not LD and Opal join us, we're not sure, but neither have provided any indication on the matter.

Cheers guys, hope you enjoyed the latest session,
If you did, or hell, even if you didn't, please comment eh? We crave the attention of our peers... :smallbiggrin:

Sartharina
2014-09-17, 10:45 AM
Ooh! How'd I miss the update?

Why are your sessions so far apart? You should be having them all day every day!

Phoenixguard09
2014-09-17, 11:10 AM
Sadly we're all pretty busy individuals and setting the time aside is difficult. Add that to my personal rule to not play unless everyone is present, well it makes things difficult. People get sick or have other commitments and I call it off rather than dropping a character out for the session.

We're telling a story and so the protagonists need to be front and centre all the time. Or at least, that's the idea. ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the update. Tell your friends! :D

Amidus Drexel
2014-09-17, 11:14 AM
Cheers guys, hope you enjoyed the latest session,
If you did, or hell, even if you didn't, please comment eh? We crave the attention of our peers... :smallbiggrin:

I definitely enjoyed reading it! :smallbiggrin: I would have posted earlier, but I've been so busy lately.

Phoenixguard09
2014-09-25, 07:08 PM
Just a head's up, Wings is sick again so we're knocking it back again. Unfortunately, for at least three weeks due to family commitments on this end.

LD may be going to Melbourne after that too, so that throws things out again.

Phoenixguard09
2014-10-29, 04:09 AM
Another update,

I've been without internet for the last week and have been unable to keep everyone coordinated.

Unfortunately, we're still a few weeks off another session. On the other hand, we've got some stuff that's happening before the next session that has been given to me online. So that's something to look forward to I guess.

Additionally, I've come up with some good stuff for the next arc.

Anyway, hopefully we get a chance soon.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2014-11-08, 11:49 AM
Okay, just a quick update,

I received Sins' letter to Chirya, so I recommend going back to the most recent write-up and having a squiz, because it's a killer.

In addition to that we have our first interlude due to be posted on the 12th of November. Not sure how I will number it as it is not a session, but it should still be an entertaining read. The interlude will detail the party's journey from Dreven to Beachead, the port-city capital of the kingdom of Greenbay, which is where the next session will kick off.

Speaking of the next session, we are due to play again on the 28th of November, which looks like a pretty sure thing to go ahead at this stage.

Again I apologise for how erratic our schedule has been this year. Hopefully we'll be a bit more stable next year.

In addition to that, it would appear that the Whispers in the Dark campaign in not far from a start date. Lady Darkmoon and Wings of the Opal Sky will not be joining us for these games which, if you are not aware, Duke Dev will be running and I will be scribing. Other than that, the group is the same, though the party very different.

As far as I am aware, Sins is playing a somewhat disturbed necromancer scion of a now-deceased noble family and Wings will be taking on an adolescent druidic necromancer or something like that. Ladyhawk and I will be playing Benedykta and Branimir Voijinski, the twin children of an abusive Roanfaille chieftain who grew up to be successful mercenaries with people issues.

Honestly I'm really looking forward to it, though I am hoping that "evil campaign" doesn't mean, "****-ish campaign." :smalltongue:

Cheers everyone, and stay tuned, because more 3 Coins goodness is on its way,

Phoenixguard09
2015-01-03, 09:16 AM
Well we did go awol for a fair time there didn't we?


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone from the group by the way. I speak for all of us when I say we hope you have all enjoyed your holidays.

To update, the interlude which I spoke of in the last post will be available over the next few days, as will Session 1.3 of Pirates of Lemaria, which was short and played by Scotticus tonight.

The session of 3 Coins I spoke of earlier which was due in November never went ahead due to Wings falling sick, but we are due to have at least one session next Thursday, which will be good.

Cheers everyone,

Phoenixguard09
2015-01-07, 11:00 AM
Interlude 3.5: New Beginnings

In a time renowned for great warlords and mages, few would carve out a realm to match that of Kresimina, the Witch-Queen of the North. Few too, are the realms which come into existence in such a storm of fire and death and leave so little evidence of their passing.

The realm of Kresimina was one forged from the lands of petty warlords, defeated by the Witch-Queen's undying legions and then reanimated to serve her will. And then, in one night, after almost two decades of her violent and expansionist rule, the realm collapsed. Her forces crumbled in an instant and those lucky few who survived her rampage fell prey to those hungry rulers of the fearful realms on her borders.

It was said the Witch-Queen sought immortality, but it would seem the only immortality she found was that of all great and terrible figures in history, the immortality of print...

From A History of the Northern Realms.

This is a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I guess quality over quantity, right?

Anyway, this is something a little bit different due to the fact that a huge amount of time has passed between sessions, but tomorrow is definitely going ahead and the group decied on a time jump to get us to the action a little sooner.

So here we are, starting from right after the last session...

EDIT* In green are the pick of the comments from the group which occured as I read the interlude to them at the beginning of the most recent session. Hopefully you will find them entertaining.

"Well, we are not going to catch a pack of Danann in the woods at night" - Harold, sheathing his blades.
"I am struggling to believe this, but I agree with Harold." - Kel'Serrar, walking out to collect spent arrows. "We had the advantage here, but in the woods they can set all manner of traps for us. Besides, they'll be watching us. Maebh's friend said so."

The companions spend the rest of the night in relatively restless sleep.

In the very early hours, Maebh takes Toirneach and retreats to a clearing on the outskirts of town where she attunes herself to the area and practices calling on her magics. She feels that she will have to grow in power to ensure both her own safety and that of her companions.

Some hours later, Harold approaches the blacksmith, Ingir.
"I am gathering the militia to gather the iron and steel from the Blackfort. If you would like to join us to pick out some choice pieces, you are welcome." - Harold.
Ingir agrees to accompany them.
With the Invarrian and the militia go Tremor and Kel'Serrar, the former to drive the cart, the latter simply to get out of the town.

The Blackfort is eerily quiet, as is the forest, but the party are unmolested as they tear through the abandoned fortress in search of workable iron and steel. The place still feels unwelcoming, but no wolves are seen. The place is deserted, but it still smells of death and the air itself has an eerie, ethereal quality.

Naturally, the expedition do not tarry long.

After retrieving the materials from the Blackfort, the companions spend a few days resting in Dreven, recovering their strength before heading north. They know that once they are out on the road, they are fair game for the Danann pack.

Harold spends the days drilling the militia and encouraging a laconic Kel'Serrar to teach them marksmanship. To the militia, it seems as if Harold brings in a new archery instructor every practice session... When not helping Harold, the ranger seeks solitude to continue practicing his own skills, albeit of a more arcane nature.

Tremor on the other hand uses the time to finish his work on Barandin's accoutrements and to continue chatting about what has been occurring at home in Nordtarnet. His cousin is now more heavily armoured than any in the party, which is exactly how the mountain dwarf likes to be in battle.

It is a cold and clear morning when the companions set out from the safety of Dreven, taking the Northern Forest Road to Warding and then on to Beachead, the capital of the coastal kingdom of Greenbay.

Harold and Maebh flank the cart, on Amadeus and Toirneach respectively, Bach trotting along behind Harold, now far too large to sit in the Invarrian's pack.

Tremor drives the cart, with a heavily armoured Barandin beside him. The cousins take it in turns to drive, as Tremor takes any opportunity while sitting down to work on his runecrafting or mechanical designs.

Breanna and Kel'Serrar sit on the back, Wolfgang nestled between them. The marcwolf has picked up many of his owner's mannerisms, and can often be found sleeping on the job.

Therressa and Augustus bring up the rear of the group, walking within easy talking distance of Breanna.

However even the naturally talkative Breanna and Therressa find themselves quietened soon after leaving the relative safety of Dreven.

Despite it being a clear morning when they left the village, the weather seems to have taken a sharp turn for the worse. Barely two hours have passed before an inexplicable mist hangs over the undergrowth. The air grows even colder, and all of a sudden their breath is escaping in puffs of steam.

And then, through the mist, hanging from the tree branches on either side of the road, the shapes of men can be seen. No one is game enough to investigate closely, but the slain men appear to be the remains of a Naillish patrol. Unconsciously, Maebh, Harold and Therressa ride just a little closer to the cart and Bach even jumps onto the back, waking Wolfgang momentarily.

They continue onwards, at a faster pace. They do not know who would have taken out the patrol and strung them up in the trees, but the Danann pack are a good bet, so the quicker they move out of the area, the better.

The next few hours, while terse and watchful, are uneventful and the companions find themselves coming upon a ford over the Greymont Run, the natural border between Naille and Greymont. They cross it as quickly as they can, leaving the troubles of Naille behind.

The southern lands of Greymont are quite similar to those of Naille, grassland broken by dense pockets of forest. It is a three week journey from the Greymont Run to Warding, the fortress which guards the Coldfell Pass, the safest route through the White Mountains.

These weeks are spent bonding amongst the companions, specifically with the newest of their company, Therressa Bannimagen.
"Banni-may-gen." - Opal.
"Close enough."
"Why are you correcting him? She doesn't even know!" - LD.
She is a relatively experienced adventurer and well used to hard life on the road, but is used to walking such a road in isolation, with only the company of Augustus. Despite this, she is a cheerful and friendly soul, and bonds quickly with Breanna, someone of similar temperament.

Tremor meanwhile has become more and more withdrawn, even with Barandin. Every night, the Dwergar is caught in a web of ill dreams. Flashes of hellish battles long past wreak havoc in his mind. Even in his waking hours, the image of a burning pine blazes in his mind, and a female voice which sounds so familiar murmurs to him, though he cannot make out the words.

In short, he is being driven insane, but beneath the burgeoning madness, he can feel a well of power within him, encased by a thin shell. But that shell is weakening. Every day, he chips away at it a little more...

Though concerned for Tremor's wellbeing, there is nothing the companions can do for him and so they watch as their short friend is slowly consumed by his own internal quest.
Cue torrents of laughter at the short friend remark. The passage lost all impact when the group lost their ****.

Maebh at first was quite withdrawn after the reappearance of Bastaird in her life, but over the weeks of travel, has started to open up with her companions. Despite their differences, she can see that these people she is travelling with are good folk, and worthy of respect.
"Wait, what?" - Wings, to explosive laughter.
"She is still hanging out with us right?" - Sins, laughing.
Regardless, she still does not say much unless it is necessary and her nights are troubled. Indeed, her dreams would be no better than Tremor's if it weren't for Toirneach, who senses Maebh's distress every night and shields her from the pain, allowing her to lose herself in his own dreams of running free and careless under the open sky, over an endless green plain.
"My little pony, my little pony..." - Opal, singing.

* * *

Warding, the Gateway to the North. A tall, imposing fortress set into the sides of the White Mountains themselves. To merely get to the massive gates, one has to travel the length of the causeway, a stone ramp a mile long, suspended both by traditional stonework and magical supports. The open southern gate towers above a small party on the stone causeway, three mounted adventurers around a horse-drawn cart.
"Oh look! It's us!" - Ladyhawk.

The fortress is heavily guarded, Midlanders in the traditional garb of the Watchmen line the high walls. Through the centre of the fortress runs a wide road, kept clear of snow by the near constant traffic of patrols and merchant caravans through the Coldfell Pass. One such caravan is passing through to the south as the companions arrive in Warding, a procession of covered wagons and surly hired blades.

The companions do not stay long in Warding, and leave to the north as swiftly as possible, taking the Coldfell Pass through to the kingdom of Greenbay.

While cold and difficult to traverse, the Pass is kept relatively safe by the constant patrols of Watchmen out of Warding, and the companions exit the pass unharmed.

And that's it for the interlude. Tomorrow's session kicks off in the port city of Beachead, the capital of Greenbay.

Hopefully it will not take me too long to get that all written up and you'll have some stuff to chew on until we can get a definite schedule organised. I am looking forward to this year guys. :smallbiggrin:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2015-01-25, 09:18 PM
The group did play both the next session of 3 Coins and the first session of Whispers in the Dark, but I have been really busy and haven't finished the write-ups yet. But they are coming.

What I do have for you though, is some artwork.

Okay, here's a thread for the official Norbayne artwork which will be in the book.

The first is a massive bridge which spans across multiple islands in the Norstrand archipelago. No one knows when or how it was built, but it is said to be indestructible.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2010_zps03dbd873-1.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2010_zps03dbd873-1.jpg.html)

The second is a depiction of the deadwolves stalking the forests around the village of Dreven, at around the time the 3 Coins party was in the area and opposing the Wolf King.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2012_zpsadb6091d-1.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2012_zpsadb6091d-1.jpg.html)

The third features Galehollow, a small village in the Northlands, on the western borders of the kingdom of Stormhold.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2013_zps1ddae31b-1.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2013_zps1ddae31b-1.jpg.html)

The fourth shows the Brilliant Towers of Drell and the Golden Cliffs, where those who would study the arcane arts travel to learn from the only formalised academy of its kind in Norbayne. One must be prepared to pay a substantial amount to the masters of the towers for tuition though, so it is only for the nobility.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2014_zps363b6409-1.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2014_zps363b6409-1.jpg.html)

The fifth depicts Sunrock, the fortified capital of the southern kingdom of Benden.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2015_zpsffab318a.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2015_zpsffab318a.jpg.html)

And lastly, the bridge of Des-Carte which spans across the River Malicent and provides the only crossing for miles.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/jimspaintings2017_zpsb549434c-1.jpg (http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Phoenixguard09/media/jimspaintings2017_zpsb549434c-1.jpg.html)

I hope you enjoy,

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-08, 12:43 PM
Session 4.1: Over The Cold Northern Sea

In the year 1642 CE, Lord Godrik Ironfist of Nordtarnet died and was succeeded by his second son, Bain. His first son, Tremor had been exiled for crimes undisclosed by the royal clan.

Bain’s rule was swiftly marked by the extreme fortification of the once humble border-fort, and the zeal and speed with which he exerted his power over the neighbouring realms. The first to defy the growing Ironfist influence was Lord Ersun Blackbear of Valewatch. His rebellion was as brutal as it was swift, and Bain Ironfist had Blackbear’s wife and sons executed. Ersun himself was sent into exile as Bain, “Would not take the life of such a noble lord.”

Blackbear was driven into the mountains by mounted warriors, with nothing but a waterskin and a ragged shirt, a death sentence in itself…

From The Bloody History of Nordtarnet.

Welcome to Session 4.1 of Three Coins.

"Shoebox, tissue, band-aid. Random words. String them together." - Sins, testing the microphone.

So the session began with a recap of the Interlude, which was posted previously.

Upon leaving the Coldfell Pass, the party make their way through the forested lands of Greenbay towards the capital of that coastal realm, Beachead.

Beachead is a prosperous trading hub with an absolutely thriving market district. It is bustling when the companions arrive and they soon split up to take advantage of the goods before them. Their overall task is to charter a ship which will take them to the southern coast of Unterguardt, but they are also looking to replenish their personal stocks and equipment, along with warm clothing for the voyage.

"Because I am an Invarrian, would I know anything more about sailing?" - Dev.
"I'd imagine most of your knowledge would be regarding what ships look like easy targets."
"Right, but what about just general sailing knowledge?" - Dev.
"You likely would not know too much more than the average sailor who does it for a living."
"What about tricks of the trade?" - Dev.
"Uh, yeah, maybe."
This could be foreshadowing. Or it might never come up in the future.

"Also, because we're furry-" - Opal.
"Yes, we still have to wear clothes." - Dev, cutting that tangent off at the pass.
"Right, but do we need the heavy stuff too?" - Opal, questioning.
As it happens, Therressa has the Cold of the North Invarrian Trait which gives her Resistance to Cold, but Harold does not. All the same, this voyage was likely to get very cold so I encouraged Opal to get something heavier for Therressa anyway.

There was also a serious delay as several maps were pored over and they made fun of my drawing. Varr looks like a wolf head and Unterguardt looks like a bear's head swallowing an acorn.

A reminder, I need to print off another Equipment sheet for Tremor as he has run out of room on his current one due to his travelling library.

Tremor finds a winter-clothing merchant who happens to be a Dwergar. Even more amazingly, the merchant hails from Nordtarnet and Tremor has met him before.
"And he knows you slept with his sister." - Opal.
"Did I!?" - Wings, either outraged or gleeful, we couldn't tell.
"You might have, but that's not going to come up in this conversation."
The merchant, Eidrik Silverhand gives Tremor a discount for him and his friends, for old time's sake.
The wardrobe additions are as follows:

Maebh:A long furry black coat of wolf-fur which comes down to the ground and has a great cowl. She also gets some warm grey cotton clothing to wear under her customary leathers.

Kel’Serrar: A thick jerkin of layered hides and a long white fur cloak.

Tremor: A thick black coat made of bear hide and fur. The coat has a deep cowl, lined with fur. The collar also can be brought up over the lower face to protect against the wind.

Harold: Thick woollen tunic and breeches in brown with a leather greatcoat lined with bear fur. Heavy leather boots, also lined with bear fur complete the ensemble. Harold bought two sets of tunic and breeches, anticipating that they will be ruined.

Breanna: Heavy, fur-insulated leather boots and a thick, and two fur-lined chocolate brown leather jackets with a detachable hood and black wool face mask.

Therressa: (Have not received Opal’s homework yet.)

For getting their homework in by the deadline, everyone added a Skill Point to their total and received a re-roll to be used during Session 4.2. Ladyhawk got hers in first and therefore received an in-game item in that session, while LD's was of the highest quality, replete with images she had found on the web to help describe the exact cut and colour of her clothing. For this, she received a can of coke at lunch and was very grateful.

They are successful in replenishing their supplies and in obtaining warmer clothing, though Therressa does try to 'accidentally' steal hers. As to passage however, this is a bit more difficult. One ship is found which will be big enough to carry the horses. The captain of the caravel is a man by the name of Jon Burgundy, a big man with a southern accent almost as thick as his massive black moustache.

The cart is sold, all the crap within it gathered up by the companions. Only Tremor with his library and Harold with his armoury are overly burdened, though Maebh only realises now that she has had a tower shield in there since the ruins outside Summer Hill.

"Well, how am I supposed to carry this around?" - Ladyhawk, pondering the tower shield.
"How about if you cast some kind of spell on it to make it smaller?" - Opal.
"You could just sell it." - Dev.
"No, I get an advantage if I use it as a component for my shield spell." - Ladyhawk.
"I will allow you to do a shrink item effect on a successful Channelling Check, to allow you to carry it as a talisman."
"I love how I have such a massive amount of daemon summoning stuff in my backpack." - LD, to all round sniggers.
"Actually, now I think about it, I don't do defensive spells. I attack to defend myself." - Ladyhawk.
"Oh, I've noticed." - To laughter.
"The best defence is not a good offense, the best defence is burning everything that moves." - Sins, quietly.

The tower shield is sold, although Sins does suggest tying it to the back of the ship and having Tremor sit or surf on the back.

The cart is sold too, and the horse with it.
"14 sulvers? That's a rip off, I paid a crown for that!" - Ladyhawk.
"It loses value as soon as you drive it off the lot." - Sins.

Harold, Maebh and Kel'Serrar sort out transport to Unterguardt, telling Captain Burgundy that they need to get to Urik's Landing, a small port-town on the southern coast of Unterguardt in the kingdom of Southreach.

"That's a reasonable voyage. Over two months of sailing at this time of year, in difficult conditions too. How large is your party?" - Captain Burgundy.
"Seven of us, three horses and two marcwolves." - Harold, counting them off.
"Okay, well that's twelve sulvers each, plus another four per animal." - Burgundy, adding it up.

"Bloody hell...." - Ladyhawk, unhappy at the expense.
"Can we kill them and take the ship? We do have two Invarrians skilled in sailing." - Opal.
"The ship's bigger than Invarrian longships. We'd struggle to run it properly." - Dev.
"Ah, that makes a lot of sense." - Opal, thoughtful.
"Who runs the ship again?" - Wings.
"Captain Jon Burgundy..." - Said slowly and with a grimace. Wings himself named the character.
"I knew, I just love hearing you have to say it." - Wings, laughing.
"Every time he says his name, we win." - Sins, to general hilarity.
Wings originally petitioned for Ron Ted Burgundy, but I managed to dodge that one.

"Come now, you can offer better than that, surely?" - Harold, haggling.
"Think about it, we're offering you a fighting crew, two more experienced hands and I am a healer of some small ability." - Kel'Serrar, tacking on his piece.
"Very true. Okay then, would seven sulvers each and another two per animal be fair?" - Burgundy.
"Fair enough." - Harold, shaking on it.
"Excellent, we leave on the morrow as soon as the tide allows." - Burgundy.

Seeing as it is mid-afternoon, the companions split up to take advantage of the bustling market and Tremor, Barandin and Therressa go to a tavern for some lunch.
"I order my traditional delicacy! What is it?" - Wings.
"Uh, haggis."- To laughter.
“Really, that's the best you could come up with?" - Wings, laughing.
“It could have been goat balls." - Opal.
“Well, you're a dwarf, therefore Scottish, therefore haggis. And if you're not careful, I will introduce a Rory McEnroe and he will be a dwarf, because Rory is a classically Scottish name and... I don't know where I am going with this." - Leaving everyone else confused.

Breanna picks out a crossbow and shortswordat Harold’s recommendation, while Maebh heads off on her own and takes in the sights. Plenty of exotic materials, jewellery, foodstuffs and other miscellaneous items. And then she sees a merchant selling eggs.
“Question. Why is he selling eggs?” – Opal.
“None of your flipping business! Heeeey!?” – LD, trying to rouse some appreciation.
“Nooo.” – All, with sniggering.
“You do need to look at things sunny side up….” – Opal, trying her luck.
“Noooooo.” – All, again.
“I win this round!” – LD, gleeful.
“I’ve told you all before, no poaching my jokes.” – Sins, quietly.
“You…. You are the king.” – Ladyhawk, to Sins who nods graciously.
“I’m feeling pretty ashamed now.” – LD.
“Why? For the pun or because you lost?” – Dev.
“Because I lost.” – LD.
“You could say, she’s a bit cracked up about it…” – To groans of disgust.

One of the eggs on this man’s stall is around the size of Maebh’s fist which appears to be made of stone, but the merchant assures Maebh that there is a living creature inside.
“This is an exceptionally rare creature, one that you do not readily find in the shell. I suggest thirty sulvers?” – Merchant, rubbing his hands together.
“That sounds reasonable…” – Maebh, thoughtful.
“Hold on, hold on, we can do better than that.” – Tremor, who had caught up to the mage.
Tremor takes a closer look at the egg, and is astounded by what he notices. Not only is the man telling the truth about the legitimacy of the egg, but it is likely even more valuable than the merchant realises. What’s more, Tremor can determine what the egg holds, recognising the egg from illustrations he had seen in his youth.
“You do not run into too many dragains, even in this trade now do you?” – Dev, getting ahead of himself.
“It… is not a dragain.” – To groans.
“God damn it!” – Ladyhawk.
“It is… a mantikor.”
“I want it.” – Ladyhawk.

Maebh hands over the money for the mantikor egg, and then purchases some furs to keep the egg wrapped in to keep it warm on their sea voyage.

Tremor sees a shard of a bright green gemstone on the stall of a merchant selling precious gems and manages to haggles him down to three coppers. The Dwergar does not divulge to the merchant that he recognises the stone as one that held the eldritch life of the deadwolves of Dreven, but pockets the stone as soon as the money changes hands.

He then joins the other companions for dinner at a seaside eating establishment. And they enjoy their meal thoroughly.

* * *

The next morning sees the companions loading their horses onto one of the lower decks of the caravel, Winter Wind. Toirneach goes on far more willingly than Amadeus and Augustus, though this is hardly Augustus’ first sea voyage. Captain Burgundy approaches the companions as Therressa moves to help the crew put Augustus aboard.
“We shall be making sail soon. If you could see fit to just make yourselves useful, that would be much appreciated.” – Burgundy, donning his wide-brimmed, feathered and spiffy hat.
“If anyone has an injury, feel free to send them my way. I can stitch wounds and set broken bones.” – Kel’Serrar.
“That would be great.” – Burgundy, sweeping an arm toward the gangplank to invite them aboard.

The initial month of the voyage is not only uneventful, but almost pleasant. The crew swiftly take to the companions, particularly Harold and Therressa who do more than their fair share of physical labour onboard, and Kel’Serrar, who proves his worth when a freak accident caused a man to fall from the mast. The man’s arm was broken in the fall, but all are confident he will make a full recovery thanks to the ranger’s swift treatment.

The second month however is less cheerful. The closer the ship gets to Unterguardt, the worse the weather gets. It is cold, it is windy and the rain is just torrential. Even during the day, the sky is black and Maebh keeps a massive ball of light aethyrically tethered to the prow of Winter Wind at all times. Despite how useful this is, much of the blame for the absolutely foul weather is directed at her and her magic, which it is believed has offended some powerful denizen of the deep.
Opal leaves for a bathroom break at this point.
“The voyage has either pissed Therressa off, or given her the ****s. Either way.” – To outrageous laughter.
“She didn’t understand the meaning of ‘poop deck,’ did she?” – Dev.
“Is this being put in to the write-up?” – Ladyhawk.

“I have been through many a winter storm, and this is blatantly ridiculous.” – Captain Burgundy.
“I just love hearing him say his name.” – Sins, laughing.
“I would love to be powerful enough to call up a storm of this magnitude, but it would not be in our interests to cause this.” – Kel’Serrar, pointedly.
They debate the merits of either talking the captain down or devolving into full-fledged mutiny.
“The lowest levels of hell are reserved for mutineers and traitors.” – Dev.
“I have been through many a sea-storm myself, and my gods have never let me drown.” – Harold, pulling his medallion out and showing the captain the image of the Invarrian god of the sea.
“I guess all we can do is keep praying then.” – Captain Burgundy, who then stalks past the companions, including Maebh who is concentrating intently on her tethered ball of light.

Despite their prayers, the weather gets worse. Visibility, despite Maebh’s torch, becomes a serious problem due the sheer amount of rain and wind lashing the vessel. When it is not raining, it is snowing and even the swell on the open water is half-frozen. The companions are all grateful for their warmer clothing, but it is not long before they are sodden and chilled to the bone. At some point Maebh gets thoroughly angered at the ice falling from the sky and wrenches her magic into a glowing shield above the ship. It doesn’t prevent all the rain, ice and snow from falling on the ship, but it does stop that coming from directly above, making the weather a little more bearable.

“So while they’re freezing their butts off, Harold and I are just like, ‘It’s a bit chilly out?’ right?” – Opal.
“No, I think we’re freezing our tails off too.” – Dev, laughing.
“Yep, you guys are freezing your tails off. The rest of you mob,” – Sweeping my arm around the table to encompass the rest of the party, “Are almost catatonic. If they’re not, they’re playing marbles with bits of their fingers which have fallen off.”

Maebh’s magic makes conditions just a little bit better. It is still bitterly cold, but at least the crew can see and stand on the top deck without being driven into cover by the piercing rain and ice. As an aside, Kel’Serrar was kept busy, stitching up lacerations from the falling shards of ice.

* * *

It has been over two months since the Winter Wind left Beachead when a battered caravel crawls into the port of Urik’s Landing in the early evening. It is a wonder that the ship was not run aground when making port, but thanks to Harold, Therressa and the good Captain Burgundy, the crew are able to bring the ship in without any major damage.

Urik’s Landing is a small town on the southern coast of Unterguardt in the kingdom of Southreach. All that can be seen from the ship is two vague rows of wooden longhouses. Despite the weather, which has barely relented, there would appear to be a substantial dockside brawl erupting on the pier, right in front of the companions.

EDIT* http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Uriks%20Landing_zpssroj1ppp.jpg
I apologise for the quality of the map, it was done on the fly in the middle of the session. And I'm a ****e cartographer anyway.

Having been cooped up onboard ship for so long, many of the companions are looking for an outlet for their violent tendencies.
“A brawl?” – Ladyhawk.
“Essentially, it’s a public brawl, so you guys can just weigh in and hit people. You have free reign to whale on people to your heart’s content.”
“Yes!” – Wings.
“Oh **** yeah!” – Ladyhawk, to laughter.
“Dwarf-tossing!” – Wings.
“Can I toss the dwarf in?” – Dev, rolling dice.
“I want to be tossed!” – Wings, bellowing in rage. It was actually kind of terrifying.

This was essentially just something fun to do. They’ve been good for almost an hour and a half in session now, and their characters have been so for months. It has also been a long time since our last game, so I wanted to just give them all an opportunity to cut loose.

How I ran this was not as a combat, but more a loose collection of skill checks. I just asked each person one at a time around the table what they wanted to do, applied a skill check to it, got them to roll and extrapolated from there.

We had a hell of a time! :D

“Am I able to draw a weapon?” – LD.
“Well, they’re all unarmed at the moment, so it would be a bit unfair.”
“Right, but I’m a possum. Oh hang on, I’m a possum with a higher Strength than the dogman pirate viking. I’ll be right. Can I fly-kick people in the face?” – LD.

Harold grabs Tremor and throws him into the brawl, the Dwergar roaring his anger. Breanna practically flies off the ship and kicks a man in the face, rolling into the shadows. Maebh vaults over the side of the ship and starts to put people down with her spear, deliberately not using the head of her spear, just the shaft to crack legs and heads. Tremor, having picked himself up off the ground, walks up to the first man, kicks him violently in the shin, headbutts him as he falls forward and then walks away to his next victim like the short hairy badass he is.
“I have three actions. I want to kick, headbutt and walk away.” – Wings, distilling Tremor’s fighting style into a simple three pieces.
Kel’Serrar also leaves the ship, but skirts the brawl. One man does run towards him, but the ranger coolly steps aside and clotheslines him, laying him out on the floor. He’s after an inn, someplace warm and dry to rest after a trying voyage.

Another man is running towards Maebh, unaware that Breanna is right in front of him. She slides between his legs, leaps up behind him and then delivers a sharp blow to the back of the head.
“I just realised that this brawl is being fought by people punching in mittens.” – Sins.
“Essentially, you guys are just big furballs. Especially Tremor.”
“I am Breanna, the fluffy destroyer of worlds! I am fluff! I AM DEATH!” – LD, to hysterics.

Maebh continues to lay people out with her spear, cutting through men like a blunt scythe.

Therressa meanwhile just sits on the side of the ship with a pilfered wineskin, laughing at the carnage. After some time, she gets down and sorts through the belongings and smallchange of some unconscious brawlers.

Tremor puts down another man with brutal prejudice, before squatting in the mud to steal his money. Because, why would he pass up on cash?

Harold on the other hand makes himself useful and collects their animals from the ship’s hold. He emerges from the depths of the ship leading three horses and two wolves. In the time he was below-decks, the brawl has come to a halt due to the tender attentions of his companions.
“Did I win?” – Ladyhawk.
“Oh yes. Not even a single scratch or bruise.”
“Awesome.” – Ladyhawk.

Kel’Serrar swiftly determines that there are two taverns in Urik’s Landing. And that’s where things become more difficult. The families who own these taverns hate each other, for reasons which are lost to the depths of history, and the rumours of which do not bear much contemplation.

One way or the other, the companions must get into one inn or another, because it is just so cold outside.
“These two families… They wouldn’t happen to be called the Blackmanes and the… Battle-Birthed?” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“It was Greymane and Battle-Born by the way.” – Dev, rolling his eyes.
“She knows, she’s just changing the names slightly because that’s what I do. And you know what? Fine, that’s their names.”
“If you have names already, use them instead. I was just… taking the piss I guess.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“Well I did have one, the Irontusks.”
“Oh that’s cool. Use that one.” – Ladyhawk, to general agreement.
“So we have decided the family names by democracy.”

More coming soon....

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-08, 12:48 PM
And we're back. :smallsmile:

The inns are run by the Irontusk and Blackmane families, and they literally face each other across the main road of the Landing.
“So McDonalds and Hungry Jacks?” – Opal.
“Yeah pretty much, but more swords, axes, blood-“
“Efficiency…” – Sins.
“Similar number of rats though…”
“So who supports the Stormcloaks? Sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.

The Irontusk Inn looks marginally larger and nicer, but the Blackmanes have a larger and a better kept stable. Whatever inn they pick, they will not be welcome in the other.
“Well then we know what we’ll pick. I’ll go the ****ty one, because the other might look nicer but this one has better food.” – Wings.
There is silence for a moment, before…
“I said better stable mate, not a better kitchen.”
“Better steaks right?” – LD, thoughtful.

“Captain Burgundy.” – Harold, who passes the man on the street. “Which inn do you recommend?”
The Captain looks troubled and glances around to see if there are any unwelcome ears nearby.
“Well I have never set foot inside the Blackmane Inn, but I have stayed in the Irontusk Inn and it is very pleasant. Of course, I will likely never see the inside of the Blackmane Inn, for I would surely be killed if I tried.” – Captain Burgundy, quietly.
“How do they know? Do they sit outside and watch who enters the other inn?” – Therressa, scoffing.
“Indeed, each inn has employees who stand in that booth out there, see it?” – Captain Burgundy, pointing to a little shelter just off to the side of the Blackmane Inn’s porch, and then to a similar booth on the other side of the road outside the Irontusk Inn.
“The man within records the name if known, or a detailed description if not, of everyone who ventures into the other establishment. These taverns are not so much taverns, but cults.” – Captain Burgundy.
“I say screw the taverns, we’re hardened campaigners. We can sleep out here.” – Maebh, belligerent.
“You think it is cold now lass, it is nothing compared to the chill of the northern nights. We need shelter.” – Harold, shaking his head.
“Well then, I want to find out more.” – Maebh, stalking over to the Blackmane lookout post.

“Excuse me, I just wanted to get some information.” – Maebh, to the lookout, who frantically writes down a note on his ledger before snapping the book shut.
“What can I help you with?” – Blackmane lookout, in a thick northern accent.
“What started this feud?” – Maebh, blunt.
“Well, to be honest I don’t know, it happened so long ago. Most stories say that the scion of the Blackmanes had relations with the daughter of the Irontusk family many years ago. The Blackmanes say that the match was arranged and the loved each other, the Irontusks that she was abducted and held against her will. Whether that story is true or not, and even then, who is at fault, we cannot know. All we can do is choose a side and live with the undying hatred of the other family.” – Blackmane lookout.
“Well you have been completely unhelpful. I’ll stay here then.” – Maebh, beckoning the companions up to the lookout post.

Doesn’t exactly sound like a reasonable cause for a feud which stretches back over a century, but there are a few things to keep in mind here. First, that the town has always lacked strong authority and many families have leave to rule themselves in most ways. Secondly, that the town was originally settled by Invarrians, who are quick to stand upon their honour. And thirdly there is the fact that Invarrian females are only capable of bearing a single litter of pups in their lifetime. Naturally an unmarried female who bears a litter becomes practically unmarriageable as she is incapable of continuing her would-be husband’s bloodline.

So in this story, both families essentially believe their scions were stolen. No matter who tells it, the daughter and her pups were put to death, though neither side agrees on who actually performed the deed.

“That makes my backstory all the more tragic.” – Opal, who is correct.

“I preferred the Greymanes anyway.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“Because you are a traitor.” – Dev.
“No because the Battle-Borns were *****.”

The animals are stabled outside the Blackmane Inn and the companions sign the admittance ledger, with varying degrees of grudging recalcitrance. In the end, the whole party signs, but no illusions are made to the fact that as of entering, if they now set foot on Irontusk property they can and possibly will be killed on sight.

“Let’s do it! And steal their alcohol?” – Wings, laughing.

The Blackmane Inn is very well-furnished and quite pleasant. Plenty of portraits and other paintings adorn the walls, with information regarding the history of the town. The interior is far nicer looking than the exterior, which is easily explained by the fact that Urik’s Landing is, at the moment at least, a windy, rainy, icy hellhole.
“But it’s my hole.” – Wings.
Simply for choosing them over the Irontusks, the Blackmanes provide a free meal to their newest clientele.
“Sweet!” – Most of the party.
“I’m starting to think something’s not quite right here. We’ll go out to the stables in the morning and find that we have eaten our horses at dinner or something.” – Opal.
“If that happens, I’m murdering the whole town.” – Ladyhawk.
“Maebh has a mental link with her horse anyway. As soon as something was up, she would be aware of it.”
“Right, but Therressa wouldn’t know about Augustus.” – Opal.
“Toirneach’s pretty clever. He’d let Maebh know as soon as anything weird happened.” – Ladyhawk.
“Aww, are they friends?” – Opal.
“He thinks Augustus is alright.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“Guys, we have better things to think about than a horse bromance!” – LD.

The innkeeper turns out to be willing to supply the companions with as much alcohol as they can stomach. Except Tremor. The man couldn’t afford to part with that much.

“This weather is really bad, even for our winters.” – Blackmane Innkeeper, a patchy brown-furred Invarrian.
“How old is this town?” – Harold, at the bar.
“Around 150 years old. Urik was an Invarrian, much like ourselves. He was looking for new lands, was blown wildly off course and had to put in on the south coast. The original town was made by Invarrians, but it has since been recolonised by Northmenn and other peoples.” – Blackmane Innkeeper, whose name is Alrik.
“And who rules here?” – Tremor, he too sitting and drinking at the bar.
“That would be Theyne Embermald, sworn sword to Jarl Sidgrun of Southreach. He lives in the hall atop the hill on the eastern edge of the town. You can’t miss it. He’s got some problems to the north too, your kind up in Nordtarnet.” – Alrik, polishing a tankard and looking pointedly at Tremor.
The Dwergar just grunts and keeps drinking.
“Is there anywhere we can buy a cart and, a mule perhaps, some kind of pack animal?” – Maebh, cradling her mead.
“I’m sure you could a farmer around here willing to part with a cart and beast. It is a hard task trying to eke out a living from the soil around here, but there are those brave or foolhardy enough to try it. Old Man Hays might be able to help you, just north of the town and right at the second signpost and you’re on his land.” –Alrik, trying to be helpful.

The companions finish their drinks and their meals and then head off to sleep, unfurling sleeping rolls and bedding down in two well-furnished rooms on the second floor of the establishment, save Tremor who falls asleep at his table drawing and drinking into the night.

* * *

The next morning, the companions take a table in the common room and are served breakfast, a hearty meal of steak, bread, bacon and eggs. The friendly innkeeper, Alrik, sits with them for a while, sharing information.
"The Landing is not exactly a safe place to be at the moment my friends." - The Invarrian, in a low voice.
The companions lean into the centre of the table to hear him better.
"Please, tell us more." - Harold, tucking into his bacon.
"Well to the north lies Nordtarnet, which was not exactly a problem until quite recently. The place was a hill-fort basically, on the border of Borsa and Rivervind. That was until Bain Ironfist took over. They say he murdered his father, the old lord and was behind the exile of his older brother. Since then, the lands south of the Blackspine have gone mad. Nordtarnet is now an impregnable fortress, or so the scouts say. Those as make it back anyway, and they are few enough. Southreach's northernmost village lies on the other side of the Iceflow, the river which divides the lands of Nordtarnet and Southreach. As you can imagine, the more Bain Ironfist expands his territory, the more lords he manages to bring under his sway." - Alrik.
“Why would he want to come south? This is hardly prime farming land.” – Harold.
“Well, meaning no disrespect to your kind master dwarf, but the Dwergar are viciously ambitious little bastards as a rule. And the more Ironfist has under his control, the more they will want to stake their claim on everything they can.” – Alrik, to a fair bit of laughter. Even Tremor cracks a smile.
“That’s hardly all there is going on here either. We’ve had other issues of late. The farmers in the outlying hamlets claim that a ferocious beast is roaming the marshes and killing their livestock at night. And then within the town itself, someone has been killing girls on the street. No one ventures out at night anymore.” – Alrik.
“There’s a serial killer in town.”
“No, there are six of us.” – Opal.
“Definitely not you guys.”
“We have time to solve that. Give us a night and there’ll be seven serial killers in this town. Give us another night and we’ll be down to six.” – Sins.
“That sounds quite familiar.” – Breanna, thoughtful.“The last victim was actually a serving girl from this very inn. We’re still looking for someone to replace her. I told her she should have stayed here the night, but the girl was always wilful. They found her in the morning, cut in half on the side of the main street.” – Alrik.
“Have there been killings from both sides of the feud?” – Sins, fishing for leads.
“Aye, there have. All girls though. Well, women at least, and Midlanders or Northmenn as a rule. I’d best start serving the other clients. It is a poor innkeep who neglects his guests to eat his own breakfast.” – Alrik, taking another rasher of bacon, smiling and then leaving to serve other tables.

“I have news of mine own which I must share. The Resistance hides in the Blackspine, the mountains north of Nordtarnet. They are dangerous, but there are those who know them well.” – Barandin Stonefist, sitting next to Tremor and addressing the companions in a hushed voice.
He takes out a map of Nordtarnet, drawn and labelled in his own hand.
“I will travel on ahead and alert them to your imminent arrival. The sooner we get you an army cousin, the sooner we get you back on your throne.” – Barandin, nodding to Tremor.
“Do we need them?” – Maebh, thinking her haunch of steak is overcooked. She would have preferred it to have still been alive when served on the table.
“My brother is a dangerous foe. We’ll likely need all the help we can get.” – Tremor, downcast.
“Aye. So I will leave for the north as soon as the rain lets up and hope I can find a contact. It will, like as not, take me several days to find anyone. If you do not hear from me in ten days, assume I am dead or captured and follow your own plans. Do not tell me of them though, for if I am captured I cannot betray your secrets if I do not know them.” – Barandin, helping himself to another tankard of ale.

A discussion on the relationship between Tremor and Barandin:
The relationship between Barandin and Tremor is interesting. The Stonefist clan have been the chatelaines of Nordtarnet for generations, and have been closely tied to the Ironfists for just as long.

Tremor of course is an Ironfist, and Barandin is the get of the latest Ironfist-Stonefist intermarriage, with Tremor’s late father Godrik having married off his sister Meredith to the head of the Stonefist clan at the time. As such, Barandin and Tremor are cousins of comparable age who grew up together, engaged in the Dwergar coming of age rites together and were sworn battle-brothers. They were just about as close as they could be without marrying each other, though this was strained by their respective exiles.

In Tremor’s case, the fact that Barandin didn’t stop him from killing his other battle-brothers continues to haunt him. For Barandin, he cannot help but hold a grudge against the Ironfists for the way Bain has treated him, the last scion of a house so close to his own.

Despite this, Barandin is about as loyal to Tremor as a Dwergar can be to another. I’ll leave that up to you to decide if that’s enough.

The companions spend most of the day in the Blackmane Inn, enjoying the hospitality provided and acquainting themselves with the townsfolk. Very few townsfolk do enter the inn however, the driving rain enough to deter all but the most religious of drinkers. The day is quiet and uneventful, and most of the companions spend their time reading, eating, drinking and chatting, whiling the hours away.

Tremor’s nightmares have lessened in intensity, aided in part by the excessive alcohol consumption during his waking hours and the fact that by the time he passes out in the evening he is so utterly exhausted that the dreams have little to no hold on him. Despite that, he awakens with the same images of the burning pine and the female voice in his head. He can only make out snatches of words and phrases, but he has heard them often enough that they stick in his mind, and even in the day, his head rings until he drowns it out with the alcohol once more.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up….. The dead…. Arise….. Rise now…. AWAKEN!” – Mysterious voice.

* * *

Barandin leaves at dawn, the rain having lessened enough to allow him to buy a pony and be on his way. The companions see him off in the privacy of their own rooms, not wishing to draw attention to his departure. It is still raining, cold and grey, but at least the rain and snow has lessened and the gale-force winds have died considerably. It is bearable, but hardly pleasant.

“Okay, I want to solve these murder mysteries.” – Ladyhawk.
“Monster hunt!” – Dev.
“Why can’t we do both?” – Wings, like the little girl from the Old El Paso advertisements.
“All in favour of monster hunt?”
Dev, Wings and LD raise their hands.
“All in favour of murder mystery?”
Ladyhawk, Sins, Opal and Wings raise their hands.
“Did you just vote twice?” – Dev.
“Don’t tell me how to vote!” – Wings, laughing.
“All in favour of starting an all out war between the two pubs?” – Opal.
“AYE!” – The deafening response.
“See this? This is why we can’t have nice things.” – LD, laughing.
“See we have had Corpsewalkers and undead wolves and undead kings and… That’s a lot of undead… Anyway, my point is, can’t we just avoid the supernatural stuff for once?” – Ladyhawk.
“Unless the serial killer is some kind of sorcerous cyclopes or something. In which case, well, bugger.” – LD.

Talking with Alrik provides some more information regarding the murders too. The companions are once again seated at a table with Alrik, this time over a warm lunch and cold drinks.
“Basically, women on the streets after dusk are getting ripped apart.” – Alrik.
“Any commonalities between women?” – Harold.
“Yes, all between 20-45ish really. And as I said before, generally Midlanders and Northmenn women.” – Alrik.
“So, they are prostitutes.” – Breanna, which draws frowns from most of the people in the conversation.
“Parts of the bodies have been missing too, though what has been missing from each victim tends to be unique. The latest, as you know, was split in half vertically. I do not know what kind of blade could have made such a cut though.” – Alrik.
“Is there a doktor in this town?” – Harold, fishing for information.
“Yes, Doktor Jurdric. He is very good, though quite old. The only doktor worth a damn for many miles. Why do you ask?” – Alrik, curious.
“Just wondering. Any doktors not worth a damn?” – Harold.
“Well, two I guess. Old Jurdric’s apprentices, his son Endric and the hired hand, Welyn. I don’t quite see what this has to do with anything though.” – Alrik.
“I call it’s one of the apprentices!” – Dev.“What parts have been stolen?” – Tremor.
“Well it varies from girl to girl. One poor lass was missing only the skin from her face, flayed perfectly. No other mark on her by the way, just her face missing, from ear to ear. Others have been split open and organs missing, though what exactly was taken I could not say. Three girls have been missing limbs too, one her legs and two others their arms.” – Alrik.
“So the one missing her face, was she the first?” – Tremor.
“No, the third. There was not much found of the first lass.” – Alrik.

“Someone’s trying to make a golem.” – Opal.
“Or the perfect girl…” – Ladyhawk.
“That’s… That’s gross.” – Dev.

Harold points at a map of Urik’s Landing on the wall.
“Could you just quickly point out to me where these bodies have been found?” – Harold, to Alrik.
“I’ll do you one better…” – Alrik, who stands up and retrieves the map from the wall. He fetches a stick of charcoal from his pocket too and starts to mark crosses on the map.
“Now this map is a little out of date as it shows what the Landing looked like a good fifty years ago and the town has grown since then, but you should still be able to figure it all out.” – Alrik, marking the map.
When he is done, there are a score of crosses marked on the map, up and down the main street which runs through the Landing from the dock.
“There, you may keep that.” – Alrik, sliding the map to Harold, who nods his thanks.
“Strange that no one should see these events taking place, even if it is at night. The main street is a strange place for murder.” – Harold, thoughtful.
“Well you saw the ****storm that’s been out there these last few days. No wonder no one saw a murder, we could barely see the town when we arrived.” – Therressa, making a good point.
“You’re right lass, save that the storm has been wracking the town for, say, the past two weeks? These murders have been taking place for over a month. If anything, they have lessened in frequency since the storm began in earnest.” – Alrik.
“A month… How long has doktor Jurdric been living in Urik’s Landing?” – Harold, questioning.
“Over forty years my friend.” – Alrik.
“Hmm, very interesting… How about the apprentices?” – Harold.
“Well Endric was born here, some seventeen years ago. Welyn however, well… I guess he arrived not long before the murders began.” – Alrik.
“Any history of mental instability in the doktor’s family?” – Therressa.
“None to my knowledge. The doktor and his son are, by all accounts, some of the kindest people you would ever meet. The doktor is like a father to many of the folk here. He is quite old now though, and with the weather being the way it is, he has gotten rather crotchety, but, well…” – Alrik, trailing off unhappily.
“That’s just old age, yes… Any others arrived in the last few months? Other than us of course.” – Harold, kindly.
“Well, none as have stayed around. A mercenary band from the far south before the storm broke and a merchant caravan the week before, but other than that, no. We do not get many visitors out here. Oh, a party of Dwergar from the north too as emissaries, a few months back, but they were not here long, they just wanted passage to the capital.” – Alrik.
The Invarrian innkeep gets up to leave and then turns back.
“One last thing I forgot. These bodies, where they are found, there are no signs of struggle. No blood, save that which pools beneath the bodies and freezes in the snow. It is quite strange. The one thing to be grateful for is that whoever it is has not started breaking into houses to do his bloodwork.” – Alrik, giving a friendly nod before leaving to serve other clients.

“Well then, that was grim. I’m going to go see Bach. I haven’t seen him since we arrived.” – Harold, preparing to take his leave.
“I think I might check out where some of these bodies have been found. May I borrow that map?” – Therressa, to Harold, who slides the map across the table to her.
“I think someone needs to go talk to these doktors.” – Kel’Serrar, grimly.

Maebh, Tremor and Therressa
In the end, Maebh, Tremor and Therressa head to the site of the first murder, which has naturally been disturbed since the victim was found.
Successful Channelling Check from Maebh.
To Maebh’s keen eyes, the wisps of magic which still permeate the ground are barely visible, but even the small traces left are enough to determine for what purpose they were cast. The spell is one of preservation, and it stinks of daemonic energy.
“There was a very dark magic at play here.” – Maebh, in a low voice.
Therressa kneels on the ground and starts to sniff, but she comes up with nothing, the cold so bitter her nose starts to hurt and she needs to sneeze. But after doing so, so close to the ground she can see almost a shadow beneath the layer of snow, and starts to dig, unearthing a simple round iron medallion on a chain, engraved with the symbol of a dagger. She too can smell the magic, but it smells like Breanna’s backpack, not wholesome at all.

Harold, Breanna and Kel’Serrar
After collecting Bach, Harold, Breanna and Kel’Serrar go to the good doktor’s surgery, a small wooden building on an alley off the main street.
“Is there a police force here?” – Dev.
“No there isn’t-“
“Guards?” – Dev.
“No, it’s vigilante justice all the way.”
“Lynch-mobs!” – Sins, gleefully.
“Essentially, if you have a problem, you go kill it yourself. If you can’t kill it yourself, maybe it’s not such a big problem after all.”
“So how does the ruler keep them in line?” – Dev.
“The theyne rules by dint of being the biggest badass in the town. Whenever a bigger badass comes along, there’s a challenge and the winner is the new theyne. The current theyne defeated his father in an honour duel when he came of age. Upon winning, he let his father, who he loved quite dearly, live out his days in comfort. Usually though, the loser dies. Being a patricide is actually seen as a mark of honour amongst the Northmenn, provided it was done openly with honour.”
“Wow. So hang on, the biggest badass rules, right? So I could take over the town?” – Ladyhawk.
“Well there’s a reason this guy is still the theyne. He is a serious hardass.”
“So… I could take over the town?” – Ladyhawk, to laughter.
“Well he’s a massive man, at least eight foot tall, clad in the ancestral armour of his family and armed with one of the largest greataxes you will likely ever see. You want to give it a try, go ahead.”
“Right, but could he survive a lightning bolt to the face?” – Ladyhawk.
“Only one way to find out really, but he is a reasonably influential noble from a long line of men who held their title through violence, in a land where you need to kill anyone who decides they can take you. He has money, power and influence, so there’s a good chance that he would have magical defences too.”
“Well that’s bull****. You just don’t want me to take over the town.” – Ladyhawk.

Upon knocking on the door, it is opened by one of the apprentices, a Northmann with sandy blonde hair.
“Well met strangers. Do you have an appointment?” – Young apprentice, who is slightly taller than Harold. It is rather disconcerting for all three of the companions.
“Ah no, but I would like a check-up please. At my age, it’s a good idea and I’ve had some wounds recently which I would like to get checked over.” – Harold, mixing business with practicality.
So the companions are let into the surgery and they look around, Kel’Serrar and Breanna left in the waiting room while Harold is looked over by the outlander, Welyn while the old doktor Jurdic overlooks the proceedings. The procedure goes well, though Kel’Serrar had already done a good job of making sure the party’s various injuries do not fester. They don’t even charge the old raider for their services as his scrapes and such are far removed from their usual fare, which consists of cauterising missing appendages and binding hands missing fingers due to frostbite, misused farming implements or hungry farm-dogs.

* * *

The companions meet up once more at the Blackmane Inn for dinner to discuss the day’s events.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
All in all, a pretty good session I felt. We did plan on running two sessions that weekend, but sadly did not exactly do so, instead playing the first session of Dev’s Whispers in the Dark, which will be coming soon. (To a store near you!)

I did ask for some homework in the last week, trying to get some detail on the actual clothing the party has in their possession. Some gave more detail than others, but all of them got back to me within the week, which was a pleasant change. I think offering real-life rewards along with the in-game ones may have been part of it.

The next session will hopefully see a resolution of sorts to the murder mysteries, along with the monster hunt. I am certainly looking forward to it.

The next session is scheduled for the 21st of March, which makes it the last session before my birthday. That’ll be nice. We hope to have a steady schedule this year due to the issues last year with organising game days. We’re hoping for a rate of once a month. Hopefully that might keep everyone reasonably well-acquainted with the game system. I can hope, right?

As usual, if you enjoyed this write-up, please comment. We do crave the attention of our peers. Any questions, feel free to post them on the thread too. I’m more than happy to discuss the setting with you.

That’s all for now,
Cheers and thanks for reading,

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-21, 11:16 PM
Just thought I would let everyone know, we played Session 4.2 yesterday, and had over four hours of game time. Which was awesome.

Next time on 3 Coins:
The murder mysteries gripping Urik's Landing are resolved, the party goes to hell and comes back out and Tremor finally realises his power.

Oh, and Breanna is left stranded in a dark and dangerous place...

EDIT* We also have some artwork to display:

First, the map of Nordtarnet, the kingdom which has risen to the north under Tremor's brother, Bain Ironfist.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Map%20of%20Nordtarnet_zpswdiffiny.jpg

And then secondly, LD did some quick concept sketches of Harold and Kel'Serrar.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/KelSerrar_zpsbotc8iec.jpg
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Harold_zps8a9r1sfw.jpg

Cheers guys,

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-24, 08:38 AM
Okay, small update guys,

Session 1.3 of Pirates of Lemaria is available to be read here. (http://s4.zetaboards.com/Battlehammer/single/?p=8261120&t=10124466)

As I stated before, it's a solo game I am running with my brother. We played this session ages ago, but I only finished writing it today. It would really make the little guy's day to see some comments regarding it, so if you wouldn't mind, a comment on here or over there for me to show him would be awesome. :smallsmile:

I've also finished writing up Session 1.1 of Dev's Whispers in the Dark game. I'm just waiting to hear from the man himself as to how he wants to present it, either here or on a thread of it's own. Hopefully that will be up soon as it is a pretty good session and we're looking forward to playing more.

As to 3 Coins, I've said before that we're really hoping to be a bit more consistent this year in terms of regular play, and with that in mind we have already tentatively pencilled in the next two sessions.

You also have Session 4.2 to look forward to, which is over four hours long. I see it being a long write-up.

Talk soon, and don't forget to comment, :smallbiggrin:
PG

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-26, 08:47 AM
Alright then,

I got in touch with Dev and he basically told me to just go nuts on this.

So I will.


Whispers in the Dark
The campaign was originally pitched to us as an opportunity for us to cut loose and be evil, manipulative douchebags. Sounded like fun.

Then Dev told us that he was going to introduce an all-powerful figure who would lord it over us from the very beginning and that we were beholden to him and had pledged loyalty. Not so much fun.

Anyway, we gave him the benefit of the doubt, and despite several times doubting we'd ever get started, we did eventually play the first session.

To his credit, we actually really enjoyed it and I personally am really looking forward to the next time I get to change perspective for a game session.

The Players
I just want to quickly preface this by saying that the information which follows is correct to my knowledge. Dev made it clear to us that we should keep parts of our background and ambitions secret and that is what we have done. Ladyhawk and I have been a bit more open about our characters since that seems to be in keeping with their personalities, well Bran's at least.

On the other hand, with regard to Sins and Wings, I am under no illusions that I do not have all the information. I know I do not. You'll just have to live with that, because Dev's not willing to write the log.

With that out of the way, we'll go with me first then, Phoenixguard, or PG for short. I've got a fair bit of experience, and of course, wrote the rules and setting we're playing with. With a little bit of help.

Name: Branimir Voijcinski
Classes: Guardian 4/Warlock 1
Heavily armoured, the Guardian has access to healing and protective Spirit Magic while still being heavily armed enough to serve as a front-line fighter. Very Paladin-like but more about protecting others than healing and killing people.

The Warlock has light to medium armour, focussed on lots of Black Magic. Warlocks are very similar to Mages really, except with Black Magic instead of Arcane. They may specialise in the same way. I'm considering dropping the Necromancer as a full class and just having the Warlock cover the Archetype through skills.
Race: Roanfaille
Considered by some to be the most naturally talented warriors in the south, the dark-skinned, wiry Roanfaille of Sothbayne are instinctive fighters, their pride and fierce independence legendary in the other lands. As a race, the Roanfaille are tall for humans and their lean muscles belie substantial strength. They generally possess dark skin, ranging from light brown in hue to nearly black. Their hair is usually worn long with trimmed beards in abundance. Roanfaille culture places great significance in tattoos, with each family having its own symbol.
Age: 26
Eye Colour: Violet.
Hair & Skin Colour: Copper skin-tone and dark brown, almost black hair.
Birthsign: The Bull
Bull: Underneath their cool, calm and collected exterior, Bulls are usually a maelstrom of pent up energy. They will let others get close, but only so close as they want them. It is for this reason that Bulls are sometimes regarded as withdrawn or even boring. Bulls hate to be put in jeopardy of any kind and this usually leads to Bulls going out making the future happen as they want it, rather than leaving it to fate.
Height: 6’
Weight: 190lbs or 86kg

Bran is armoured with brigandine and heavy leathers, befitting his Horseman background. He is armed with a bastard sword he acquired during his time in the north, a heavy round shield and a long, curved knife. At his back is a recurve bow and a quiver of arrows, but he is an indifferent marksman at best. He is of an average height for his people and well-muscled, with piercing eyes and shaggy, shoulder-length hair roughly tied back to stay out of the way. On his right shoulder-blade is a tattoo of two crossed black swords, the sigil of the Voijcinski clan.


Roanfaille Level 4 Guardian / Level 1 Warlock
Stats
Combat Skill: 52
Ballistic Skill: 35
Strength: 41
Toughness: 43
Dexterity: 31
Agility: 33
Actions: 1
Initiative: 32
Health: 20/20
Charisma: 29
Perception: 30
Intelligence: 33
Willpower: 31
Magic: 1
Luck: 6/6

Skills
Animal Care
Charm
Climbing
Command +10
Dodge Blow
Healing +10
Intimidation
Riding +10
Search
Silent Move
Survival +10
Swimming

Talents & Traits
Nomadic Lifestyle: +5 to Riding Checks
Savvy: Re-roll a single Deception or Gambling Check per day.
Swordmaster: +1 Damage with a sword.
Guardian Might: +1 To Cast Guardian Spells.
Experienced Warrior: +10 to Parry
Shieldwall: +10 to Parry with a shield.

Equipment
Weapons:
Bastard sword
Recurve bow
Quiver with 20 arrows
Hunting knife
Round shield

Armour:
Brigandine cuirass
Leather vambraces
Leather leggings
Long leather coat

Miscellaneous: (All stored in a rolled up cloak, save the tent which is usually carried by the horse)
2 torches
Tinderbox
One-man tent
Rations

Combat Manoeuvres
Heroic Strike: +D10 Damage on a strike the round after a successful Parry.
Cleave: Additional attack on a prone target within range.
Smite: Forces an Opposed Strength Check on an opponent the round after a successful Charge Attack. If the test is failed, the target is knocked prone.
Flurry: If no Damage was taken in the previous Round, the Guardian may perform a single Quick Attack on every target within range.

Magic
Armour Skin - +2 to Armour Value on all locations for D10 Rounds per Magic Level. (Guardian Spell)
Summon Glyph - Summons a glyph, a daemonic creature of relatively dog-like dimensions and intelligence. (Warlock Spell)
Protective Aura - +2 to Armour Value on all locations for D10 Rounds per Magic Level on the caster or a single ally within touch. (Guardian Spell)
Flame Shield - Light cover for the caster plus Fire Damage on targets within 5 feet. (Guardian Spell)



Ladyhawk was next, my girlfriend who plays Maebh Raven-Wing in Three Coins. She's come a long way as a player from the beginning and was looking forward to playing around with a different character. Maebh and Benedykta are quite similar in some ways, but then I guess magically powerful independent women only come in so many flavours right?

Name: Benedykta Voijcinski
Classes: Warlock 4/Warrior 1
The Warlock has light to medium armour, focussed on lots of Black Magic. Warlocks are very similar to Mages really, except with Black Magic instead of Arcane. They may specialise in the same way. I'm considering dropping the Necromancer as a full class and just having the Warlock cover the Archetype through skills.

Heavily armoured, focussed on killing **** up close. Warriors are both good at dealing damage and taking it. Through skills they can cover may different archetypes including the Berserker and the Knight. They will also have a little ranged ability but their skills will not offer any of the archery perks associated with the Ranger or Rogue.
Race: Roanfaille
Considered by some to be the most naturally talented warriors in the south, the dark-skinned, wiry Roanfaille of Sothbayne are instinctive fighters, their pride and fierce independence legendary in the other lands. As a race, the Roanfaille are tall for humans and their lean muscles belie substantial strength. They generally possess dark skin, ranging from light brown in hue to nearly black. Their hair is usually worn long with trimmed beards in abundance. Roanfaille culture places great significance in tattoos, with each family having its own symbol.
Age: 26
Eye Colour: Violet.
Hair & Skin Colour: Copper skin-tone and dark brown, almost black hair.
Birthsign: The Bull
Bull: Underneath their cool, calm and collected exterior, Bulls are usually a maelstrom of pent up energy. They will let others get close, but only so close as they want them. It is for this reason that Bulls are sometimes regarded as withdrawn or even boring. Bulls hate to be put in jeopardy of any kind and this usually leads to Bulls going out making the future happen as they want it, rather than leaving it to fate.
Height: 5’ 10"
Weight: 158lbs or 72kg

Benny is equipped with light armour, aka tough leather armour. She has a bastard sword and a assortment of numerous daggers hidden in many places. She enjoys throwing the daggers but still has a long way to go before she is a master at it. With both of us having horses, she has a few personal and necessary items in her saddle bags. She has a few dark magic tomes (just for fluff) and a few yucky things used for rituals.

Benny has a bad scar running down the left side of her face, (more of this will appear in the background). Her leathers are black. She also has a necklace made up of teeth collected from beasts defeated over their travels along with a few feathers in her hair.
Benny is a very beautiful woman, the scar down her face, instead of marring her beauty, strangely accentuates it by making her seem tough and mysterious. Her hair is wild and curly reaching down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are the same colour as her brothers, but seem to have more of an unnatural sheen to them. She is lean but has a fair bit of muscle due to the many hours of sword training with her brother.


Roanfaille Level 4 Warlock / Level 1 Warrior
Stats
Combat Skill: 35
Ballistic Skill: 33
Strength: 32
Toughness: 42
Dexterity: 24
Agility: 31
Actions: 1
Initiative: 34
Health: 12/12
Charisma: 25
Perception: 33
Intelligence: 31
Willpower: 50
Magic: 3
Luck: 6/6

Skills
Animal Care
Climbing
Deception
Disguise
Dodge Blow
Intimidation
Riding
Search
Silent Move
Survival
Channelling
Alchemy
Hypnotism +20
Common Knowledge (Black Magic)

Talents & Traits
Nomadic Lifestyle: +5 to Riding Checks
Savvy: Re-roll a single Deception or Gambling Check per day.
Flaming Hands: +10 to Intimidation Checks
Dual Casting: Two spells per Combat Round

Equipment
Weapons:
Bastard sword
5 daggers

Armour:
Leather jerkin
Leather vambraces
Leather greaves
Leather leggings

Miscellaneous: (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually carried by the horse)
Fresh leek
Tinderbox
One-man tent
Rations

Magic
Deepest Darkness - Impenetrable darkness around the caster for D10+2 Combat Rounds. (Warlock Spell)
Summon Glyph - Summons a glyph, a daemonic creature of relatively dog-like dimensions and intelligence. (Warlock Spell)
Steal Life - D10 Damage on touch. Any Damage cause is converted to health for the caster. (Warlock Spell)
Doombolt - Magic Missile. D10 Damage, can be augmented by summoning elementally aligned daemons. (Warlock Spell)
Creeping Death - A deadly fog creeps along the ground. D5 Damage on targets within the affected area. Can be augmented by summoning elementally aligned daemons. (Warlock Spell)
Phantom Noise - Creates a single noise from a specific location. May duplicate two syllables of speech. (Warlock Spell)
Silence - Causes the target to lose the ability to form speech on touch. (Warlock Spell)
Sleep - Causes the target to fall into a short magical coma on touch. (Warlock Spell)
Armour Skin - +2 to Armour Value on all locations for D10 Rounds per Magic Level. (Warlock Spell)
Terrifying Visage - The caster causes Fear for the duration of the Spell. (Warlock Spell)
Shadow Figure - Creates the silhouette of a single man-sized figure, which may perform any action the caster desires. The figure is insubstantial and disappears after a short time. It cannot be harmed, nor can it interact with the environment. (Warlock Spell)



As you might have noticed, Ladyhawk and I are playing siblings, twins in fact. Don't worry, we are no Lannisters here. :smalltongue: The background information we concocted is presented together in the next spoiler.


Questions:
Where are you from?
- The twins are from a large clan nomadic horse clan which roamed the territory on the north-coast of Sothbayne, the Voijcinsk. Their clan symbol is two black crossed swords, the twins bearing the marking on their right shoulder-blades.

What is your family like?
- Abusive father, mother died in child birth. More about the family will follow in the background story bit.

What is your social class?
- The father was the clan chief, but none of that matters anymore.

How did you become an adventurer?
- There was no home left for them. (And they are both a little insane, Benny more than her brother)

How religious are you?
- Bran is very superstitious and believes Benny is being blessed by some god when she works her powers. On the other hand, she doesn't agree because she knows that a god wouldn't submit to being basically strangled for power. Since he has started manifesting his own abilities, Bran has been forced to rethink this. But he's still not certain how he's doing it.

Who are your best friends and worst enemies?
- No enemies that they can recall, though there are plenty of people who are hated, usually by Bran. No real friends, we are the only important people in each other’s lives.

What are your prized possessions?
- Our horses and weapons.

Who are you loyal to?
- Each other.

Who do you love and hate?
- Bran loves his sister. Everyone else is secondary, and what's more, a threat. Same goes for Benny.

And finally, what sort of temperament does your character have? How do they view the other peoples of Norbayne?
- As to how Bran views others, basically what I said a moment ago. Same for Benny again.



Both of these characters grew up in a very troubled childhood. Their father was a greedy, horrible man and his wife had been unable to provide him with an heir or any children at all. So their father turned to a demon to provide help in getting him a son. However, the daemon being a daemon, tricked him and gave him twins. His wife also died in the childbirth. Both children were touched and practically created by a powerful daemon. Benny is specifically affected due to her whole existence being the result of a daemon’s tricks.

When they were born, her father hated Benny from the very beginning, and was very abusive towards her. Being touched by the daemon caused Benny to have a strong connection with daemons, so she was quite a powerful warlock at a young age. Her brother has always preferred the sword, to the point that until very recently, he suppressed his abilities with daemon-craft.
Their father’s abuse was only tolerated for so long. At the age of twelve, Benny snapped, calling a daemon well beyond her abilities and destroying her father and almost the entire clan. Her brother saved her from being completely consumed by the daemon-fire but losing control gave her the nasty scar on her face and left her mind quite unstable.
For the next decade, Bran led his sister from their home on the north coast of Sothbayne, across the Southern Ocean and through the Southlands of Norbayne. Plying their trade as mercenaries, the twins garnered a reputation as reliable and discreet.

Dev also gave us a handful of questions to answer regarding our origin.

1. How did you begin working for The Master?

- Bran and Benny started working for the master after Benny began having strange and daemonic dreams. In a nutshell they consisted of her standing on top of a burning world, with an army of powerful daemons at her command. In these dreams many faces showed up, but one face she recognised was The Master's. She therefore, interpreted this as, if she wanted the power she desired and felt like she deserved, it would be in her best interests to find The Master.
- As for Bran, he goes where his sister tells him they are needed. She makes the big decisions and he ensures they survive long enough for her to make the next one.

2. Why are you loyal to The Master?
- Benny is loyal to The Master because of her quest to become all-powerful. She feels in her gut if she stays for now, she will be closer to her goal.
- For Bran, it's the gold. His loyalty is first and foremost to ensuring that he and Benny gain enough gold to live out their days comfortably. What's more, once Bran realises he can control these occurrences around him he acknowledges that the Master can give him the knowledge he needs to control it and hone it. Or at least ensure that he doesn't flip out and kill everyone around him accidentally.

3. How long have you been in his service?
- The Twins have been in his service for about a year.

4. Do you have any rivals/enemies within the syndicate? Have you been caught on a contract for the syndicate?
- The Twins are not exactly well-liked within the syndicate. This is likely due to a sense of superiority from the twins. Not to mention Benny's somewhat inhuman qualities and perception on life. Despite this several men have still tried to make a pass at her, but this has led to humiliation and ridicule from either twin.
- There are a few individuals who could be labelled rivals in the Syndicate. Benny has created a particularly nasty enemy in a neighbouring cell, a man who is not used to getting no for an answer.
Name: Guido da'Gaston (Southerner)
His role in his cell is that of hired muscle. In essence, he threatens local merchants into paying dues to the cell to protect them from criminal activity. He's not that intelligent, but reasonably good looking and very well-built. The third son of an old and wealthy, if not entirely respected family, he has always gotten what he wanted.

When Benny refused him, he didn't leave her alone. She finally ends things by very publicly humiliating him, and he has never forgotten it.

- As for Bran, there's always been the handful of men he's seen stealing covert glances at Benny. He usually disabuses them of any such notions without letting on to his sister what he is doing. From a bystander's point of view, his fists probably deliver a softer lesson than Benny's vicious mind.
- Bran's most hated enemy though would be a mercenary captain the twins served under in the Southlands.
Name: Malberd Cottar (Lowlander)
The captain of the Swiftswords, a small company of mounted warriors who specialised in quick insurgence missions and operated out of the area around Turindor. The Swiftswords had a reputation for minimal collateral damage and a superb success rate. Their current captain, Cottar, comes from a shepherding family deep in the Midland valleys. He has worked his way through the ranks to get where he is now, though some suggest that he might have pushed a few people into the path of oncoming arrows on the way.

- Bran and Benny signed onto the Swiftswords for a single season, and as such were entitled to a single share each in the loot that would be gained from the Swiftswords' most recent contract, a routine infiltration and intelligence gathering operation against a rival mercenary company. The employer would pay 700 sulvers for the number of men and horses with the sum to be doubled if the company's most recent orders could be obtained.

- The Swiftswords devised a plan which would see Bran and Benny sneaking into the opposing captain's tent while the rest of the Swiftswords would distract the company with quick fire raids. Unfortunately, this fell apart as captain Cottar ordered the retreat, leaving Bran and Benny stranded in the middle of the enemy's camp. While the twins struggled mightily to escape with their lives, Cottar led the rest of the Swiftswords to gather the 700 sulvers from their employer.

Okay, Sins of Dusk up next. He plays Kel'Serrar in Three Coins and has a well deserved reputation for granting an essay to those who ask for character background. I love it personally.

Name: Lysrasor Curial
Classes: Necromancer 4/Mesmer 1
The Necromancer has light to medium armour, focussed on the manipulation of dead things through Black Magic. Tampering with the dead requires far too much power for Arcane Magic users, so Black Magic is the only way to access Necromancy. Quite powerful but also prone to being eaten by Daemons.

Light armour, focussed on Illusionary Arcane Magic. I like the idea of a Thief type character who uses a speciality in Illusions to make their thievery better but perhaps this archetype could be covered by multiclassing a Rogue with a Mage who specialises in Illusions. Therefore, it is currently unlikely that the Mesmer will be in the finished product.
Race: Midlander (Southron)
The people of Norbayne are a strong race, tough and adaptable. Compared to the Northmenn of Unterguardt, they are quite slim and stocky, built more like wolves than the northern bears. They are the most populous race in the known world and most cities have at least a small Midlander population. They are almost universally of pale complexion and dark haired, with sharp angular features. Their hair is usually worn long while facial hair is neatly trimmed.
Age: 28
Eye Colour: Crimson (Left) Light Green (Right).
Hair & Skin Colour: Pale skin and white hair with a crimson streak that falls over, concealing the left eye most of the time.
Birthsign: The Stallion
Stallion: Those born under the sign of the Stallion appear to change and deviate from their usual behaviour with the phases of the moon. Life doesn't stand still for this sign, even if they remain in one place. Most Stallions feel one way one minute, then sometimes totally different the next and often have a need to travel and see new things.
Height: 6’ 2"
Weight: 122lbs or 55kg

Lysrasor carries a utilitarian dagger on his belt, along with his family's ancestral crypt-keeping blade. He wears black robes over light leather armour. Trotting beside him is a small dog, like a beagle. Upon close inspection, one can determine that the dog died some time ago but is animated by some kind of Black Magic. It's name is Hctib, and yes, it would appear to have been a female in life.

And then background information, spoilered for length. This is a harrowing, but highly awesome tale.
Born from an Upper Class family, it was certainly a rare occurrence that Lysrasor had to want for anything. Food? The finest the servants could provide would be delivered with but a word. Entertainment? It wasn’t like the servants had anything better to do, after all they were simply property, and property had no fear of a fight to the death. Company? Who wouldn’t kill for a chance to meet with one of the scions of the Curial Family?

This wasn’t to say life was what it should have been however. Despite having almost complete control over the peasants that made up the population of Direhaven, there were still a few matters that irked Lysrasor to no end.

The first of which? A certain lady named Chloe, only two years his senior. A rather talented mage, taking after her parents quite strongly in that regard, would usually stop the servants before they could finish the duels Lysrasor would force them to participate in. However, while this on its own was bearable… barely, there was also the fact that she worked tirelessly to uphold the family’s charge. To keep the dead of Direhaven in their graves and to prevent any necromancers from attaining access to the crypts.

The second little matter was Chloe’s little sister, Tienna. An aspiring mage, powerful despite not having reached her tenth winter. She had very little control over her magic, but it was powerful. To make matters worse, she adored her older sister, and tried to emulate her. Fortunately however, she was still too young to take up the work of her parents and older sister, and was not yet allowed near the crypts.

The third matter was the worst however. The Voices. They lived at the edge of Lysrasor’s mind, whispering, waiting. Sometimes they held untold brilliance, and knowledge that they had no right to know. Other times they spoke of the end of all things, and why the world should burn. Mostly they spoke of power. The power to rule, to dominate, to master all… the power that should have been Lysrasor’s birthright.

Lysrasor was born with a power unlike that of Chloe or Tienna. Lysrasor was born with power over the dead and the mind. It was unclear whether these powers were granted to him by The Voices, or if they were the result of the power. He’d been caught once before as a child, experimenting with the dead, but he was let off with a warning. Youthful ignorance, the grave keepers had called it, but only one chance would ever be given, they had made that clear enough.

He practiced in secret after that and through the years taught himself how the rituals for bargaining with Demonic Entities and raising the dead. Knowing always that he was destined for greater things… and knowing that soon, these greater things would come to pass.

In Truth, the only reason that he hadn’t acted years ago was Chloe, the current grave keeper… and his older sister. The Curial seniors - his parents - were growing old, and while age hadn’t dulled their power, it had most certainly done so to their minds. While they grew weaker, The Voices plotted. It had taken several years for them to convince Lysrasor to follow them, but the promise of greater power was something that the black sheep of the Curial Family would never pass up on.

The night the plot was to unfold, Chloe was out as normal, guarding the crypts. Tienna and the Curial Seniors were in the family mansion, the duty to the dead was not their concern while Chloe was still capable.

All it took in the end was a simple illusion. A phantasm taking the form of Tienna crying to lure Chloe away from her post. Chloe never could resist her little sister, and rushed to comfort her. She never even saw the knife. It was a quick death, The Voices, for all their insanity, still maintained a modicum of practicality, and dead mages cannot cast spells.

Even with Chloe dead and gone though, there were still more grave keepers. It Lysrasor was to succeed, there could be no surviving Curials beyond himself.

It took him most of the night, but he was able to animate the corpse of Chloe and summon a phantasm to speak for her and hide the blood. This would be a memory for Lysrasor to keep… the night his whole family was murdered by his sister’s hand and the force of his will.

The Curial seniors proved little challenge, Chloe simply rushed in to warn them that the dead were rising once more. When her parents turned to ask her how, Lysrasor let the illusion fall, to allow his parents last moments to be of their beloved daughter’s corpse running them through with the families ancestral blade.

Tienna however, was a slightly greater challenge. She awoke when her sister came to warn their parents and made her own way to them in time to see their corpses. What chilled her most however, was that her brother was checking their bodies, and smiling when he pronounced them dead.

It was too much for her to handle. Her power surged, and fire began to pour from her hands and mouth, igniting everything, herself and Lysrasor included. The Voices urged him to put her down, stop the fire before the townsfolk could see it, but he panicked. He took the blade from his sister, and sent her corpse to provide cover for him from the flames while he escaped.

It wasn’t long before the entire mansion was consumed, but it was long enough for Lysrasor to escape with a small portion of the family fortune and his sister’s blade. The blade itself was forged for the grave keepers, but whether it was to aid them in keeping the dead down, or raising them up when the town was threatened has long since been lost to history.

It has been two years since the events at the Curial family home. Two years that Direhaven has been plagued by the dead rising, with no one to put them down again. Lysrasor has since squandered the vast majority of his funds, but has still maintained his sister’s blade. The power promised by The Voices seems distant, regardless of their continued promises.

That is… until an invitation to a strange organisation found its way to Lysrasor’s hands, promising wealth and power on an unmatched scale to any who accept…


Midlander Level 4 Necromancer / Level 1 Mesmer
Stats
Combat Skill: 53
Ballistic Skill: 29
Strength: 39
Toughness: 53
Dexterity: 27
Agility: 22
Actions: 1
Initiative: 23
Health: 10/10
Charisma: 25
Perception: 54
Intelligence: 53
Willpower: 53
Magic: 3
Luck: 6/6

Skills
Search +20
Channelling +20
Raise Dead +20
Academic Knowledge (Necromancy)
Hypnotism +20
Lockpicking +10

Talents & Traits
Sixth Sense: Always strikes in Initiative order and cannot be affected by Ambush Bonus Rounds.
Sturdy: Re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Check per day.
Master Necromancer: +10 to Raise Dead Checks
Aethyric Attunement: +10 to Channelling Checks
Wandering Eye: +10 to Search Checks
Mistweaver: Can modify the Cloying Mists spell.

Equipment
Weapons:
Arming sword (Nehira, the Curial graveblade)
Daggers

Armour:
Leather jerkin
Leather vambraces
Leather greaves
Leather leggings

Magic
Silence - Causes the target to lose the ability to form speech on touch. (Mesmer Spell)
Sleep - Causes the target to fall into a short magical coma on touch. (Mesmer Spell)
Armour Skin - +2 to Armour Value on all locations for D10 Rounds per Magic Level. (Necromancer Spell)
Magic Snare - Wards an area, preventing the first target to enter that area from moving for D10 Rounds. (Necromancer Spell)
Cloying Mists - Provides a bonus to Concealment within the mist.



Lastly, we have Wings of Decay, who plays Tremor in Three Coins. He joined in our first session halfway through, and has a thoroughly interesting character. Unfortunately, I haven't got access to any of his background information, only his character sheet. Hopefully Dev will pass the censored version to me soon and I can update this post.

Name: Raven
Classes: Druid 3/Necromancer 2
Lightly armoured, focussing on Spirit Magic. Only Spirit Magic is available to the Druid but it has some powerful effects, Bestial Form in particular as it allows the character to become an animal for a period of time.

The Necromancer has light to medium armour, focussed on the manipulation of dead things through Black Magic. Tampering with the dead requires far too much power for Arcane Magic users, so Black Magic is the only way to access Necromancy. Quite powerful but also prone to being eaten by Daemons.
Race: Midlander (Woodsman)
The people of Norbayne are a strong race, tough and adaptable. Compared to the Northmenn of Unterguardt, they are quite slim and stocky, built more like wolves than the northern bears. They are the most populous race in the known world and most cities have at least a small Midlander population. They are almost universally of pale complexion and dark haired, with sharp angular features. Their hair is usually worn long while facial hair is neatly trimmed.
Age: 14
Eye Colour: Unknown
Hair & Skin Colour: Pale skin and short black hair.
Birthsign: Unknown

Height: 5’ 2"
Weight: 100lbs or 45kg

Raven is a scrawny, wild looking fourteen year old boy. He is an orphan, and looks like he was left abandoned in the woods for quite some time. He wears light, black leathers and carries two razor sharp sickles on his back.

And background.
Raven was born on a little farm in the middle of nowhere. His father and mother were both poor and could barely feed everyone, but they managed.

Tragedy struck when Raven was only about 5. Somewhere back in his ancestral blood-line was a clan of druids but after centuries of intermarriage, the once strong blood-line had been watered down till there was very little left. This is Raven's gift and his curse because without knowing it both his parents carried the druid gene from this ancestral gene pool.

Through some quirk of genetics, it manifested itself in Raven stronger than it had in centuries. but that great power in one so young has consequences. During his early years it was only small stuff his hair might grow quicker or his nails grow pointed and curled like ravens claws, then to only disappear just as quickly as they had appeared but on his fifth birthday, his parents arguing about how little they had and how long it had been since a decent crop, all the while forgetting his birthday, sending the little boy to bed with barely a meal. During the night, Raven had nightmares about transforming into a monster and ripping into his parents, tearing flesh from bone for being so cruel to him on his birthday.

When dawn broke, Raven woke up to his nightmare come to life, his parents lying dead in the house, his bed torn to shreds, blood everywhere, covering him, his bed and the room itself. It was then that he realised that his nightmare had been truth. He had been the monster. He had killed his parents and the secret fact that he had enjoyed every minute of it the feel of flesh being torn, the smell of fear and terror... the taste of blood.

Skip forward another 5 years and since leaving the farm, raven is now a hired killer, having learned somewhat to control the beastly urges. Now you’re asking, how can a 10 year old be a killer? Well it has to do with the shifting. Every time he shifted, he gained knowledge from dead ancestors and because he shifted uncontrollably for 3 years, the voices of dead druid ancestors speaking to him every time, whispering, teaching, and from them he learned how to control the shifts. From there it was an easy jump to learning the art of fighting both as a human or animal, the art of stealth and many things more.

As to the hired killer part, there was a man who saw him shift while out walking one day and decided to use him in his business so he waited until Raven shifted back and approached him about being an assassin. A deal was struck and Raven joined the man for a short while, but the voices of his ancestors never went away. Sometimes helpful, sometimes a reminder and sometimes a warning, it was the ancestral voices that spoke of the man’s betrayal for a sackful of gold from a baron who wanted something dangerous to hunt. Thinking easy money, Raven's benefactor agreed eagerly. He had the perfect candidate... Raven... but knowing of this betrayal set Raven on a murderous path he had travelled many times before. Killing came as easy to this 10 year old as easy as breathing.

The deaths of the baron, his retainers and the man who betrayed him were all too easy to arrange, a hunting accident in the forest. All he did was play along as the hunted for a while then turned from hunted to hunter and started picking them off one by one, the slow fat one at the rear first. In the end, the only two left alive before dark were the baron and his benefactor. The baron died first, his death sweet but quick. A hamstring and then the jugular.

And then to the man who for 2 years had worked with Raven as an ally and friend. His death was not so swift, nor was it merciful. Just before he died he asked Raven why. The child responded, "It's all about the kill."

These words have been the last words every victim heard before Raven has killed them.

Raven has never worked with anyone again for longer than one job. He does the contract and moves on. His favourite contracts are the ones that are meant to look like accidents because he can replay his first mass killing changing it slightly to his liking making it more artistic or more brutal depending on his mood... leaving nothing but bodies and empty purses.

Raven is now 14 and looking for work...


EDIT* For Session 1.2, we were joined by Sins' girlfriend, Delphoxie, who plays Aeva Nordur-Vatn in 3 Coins. I do not know much about her character, but she has sent through a bit of background for her character.

Name: Aurion
Classes: Duellist 3/Ranger 2
Lightly armoured, focussing on finesse in close combat. Very good one on one, the Duellist is able to prevent enemies from attacking anyone else through Taunts and other such interesting effects. Quite effective at dealing damage, not so flash at taking it.

Medium armour, focussed on outdoorsy stealth woodland stuff and archery. Through skills, can cover the Arcane Archery, Beastmaster and Hunter archetypes.
Race: Danann
The Danann of the Wardenfells are a wild race of hunters and warriors. The Danann wear their dark hair long, often twining talismans and feathers into the braids to give luck and protection when they hunt. Tall and slender, the Danann are decptively strong and have keen intelligence and almost preternatural senses. They view the other peoples as their prey, and warfare is a great hunt, one test the skills of the mightiest of huntsmen. What little is known of their society is mainly through the outcasts who are propelled to seek a life of adventure in other lands. The eastern realms tell of summer nights when the Danann tear through outlying hamlets, seizing terrified villagers to take back to their tall cities to be brutally sacrificed. These are just tales of course...
Age: 19
Eye Colour: Unknown
Hair & Skin Colour: Unknown
Birthsign: Unknown

Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown

I don't know anything about appearance yet.

But I do have background...
Aurion began her life as a princess in the lands of the Gheimridhe. Raised in a royal household she had very little experience with battle and even less with one on one combat. She was raised to be a lady and uphold the rules and standards set by her people. Quiet and keeping to herself, she spent most of her time reading the history and stories of her nation in the gardens of her castle home. She was constantly surrounded by maids and people of power so she had very little time to herself. However, she harboured a horrible secret the wound change her future drastically. She was cursed.

At her naming ceremony, a blood-mage; nameless and mysterious, spoke words to the infant. He cursed her to be beckoned by blades. Whenever she passed the kitchens or even the sewing rooms, the blades called. Her mother and father knew not of her curse and assumed that the warlock had blessed her to be beautiful and humble, as had the rest of the people to visit her.

Unfortunately, not all of her life had been sweet and quiet. Her father, the king was not all that he seemed. He had a secret to. Night after night he would come into Aurion's room and wake her. (This part will remain secret to anyone but her.) His beloved daughter was not biologically his. The king was actually the blood-mage who cursed her. After seeing how beautiful a babe Aurion was, he snuck into the castle the night after the naming ceremony and killed her real father, disguising himself as the king and taking his place. He lay in bed with the king's wife and ruled the lands of the Gheimridhe. And no one but Aurion knew.

The bane of Aurion's existence was an Invarian by the name of Eruven, an exile of the Hidden Wastes. He told her how she could never speak of the curse to anyone because it would come out as gibberish and even if she found a way to tell someone, they would not believe her. He also mentioned that the only way to get rid of the curse was to kill him, which was increasingly difficult, considering he was the king now and he was constantly surrounded by guards.

As to how she became known as evil and malevolent, this was because of the time she gave in to the calling. She passed the kitchens on her walk to her favourite part of her secret garden and wandered in. Mesmerised by the shine on the blade being held by the Cleaver. She stared it down and wandered forward, reaching her hand out to grasp it. And that is all she knew. She blacked out shortly after grabbing it from the Cleaver's hand and when she woke, every person in the kitchen and adjoining rooms was torn to pieces and she was covered in blood.

She removed all evidence that she had been there; discarded her clothes and ran to her 'father', the king. Screaming about what happened and saying what a tragedy it was. The King (Eruven, feigning interest) rushed into the kitchen. Awestruck, he told his guards to search for any possible evidence or trespassers to help discover who could have committed such a crime. The Cleaver was The king's dearest childhood friends. He swore to kill whoever had done this to him.

After several years, Aurion grew tired of the curse and not being able to say anything to anyone about it, so she decided to try and kill Eruven. She crept into his room, late at night and reached for her knife in her pocket. She grasped it and blacked out. When she came to, she was running. A pack of guards following her and a trail of corpses behind them.

She quickly reached the gates and the guards stopped, having chased her from the city. The next day, the hunt began anew and as to whether or not she had succeeded at killing the king was still unknown to her. But she swore that day to kill him by any means necessary if she had not.


Okay, that's it for the players for Whispers in the Dark. The next post will be our first session.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-26, 08:54 AM
Whispers in the Dark Session 1.1: We Are No Spies

Never have I seen such malevolent power wielded as that day by my own sister. With it, she broke strong warriors, our whole clan, savaged by flames and otherworldly beings. This person, this strong woman is as much a part of me as my own flesh and blood, my sister, who destroyed everything I called mine and all who I owed allegiance to, save herself.

I made my choice, she was all I had left.

And I would keep her safe...
- From the personal journals of Branimir Voijcinski.

I began by trying to set up the recording device, asking everyone to speak. Wings was not due to arrive for some time yet, so we decided to start without him.

“My name is *redacted* *redacted* *redacted*” – Dev.
“The Game.” – Ladyhawk.
“Excellent.” – Sins, bringing his fingers together in an evil fashion.
“I will be your Game Master for this evening. This is the first session of Whispers in the Dark.” – Dev.

Nine initiates stand in a cavernous room lit by torches. Before them is a platform atop three stone stairs. On the platform sits a throne which appears hewn out of the cavern itself, a solid block of blackened stone. On either side of the thrones sit two shallow cauldrons, belching silver flames.

On the throne sits a figure and while the room is reasonably well-illuminated by the flames of the torches and cauldrons, the seated figure blends into the darkness behind him. The figure is undeniably male and radiates power, but no features can be seen, which lends him an unsettling aura.

The man speaks in something barely more than a whisper, yet it echoes around the cavern like it is the only sound in existence.
“You all know why you are here. You have all failed me. So the question is… What do we do with you now?” – The Master.
The figure gives off a sense of great disappointment.
“I know that some of you are still serviceable… I will not kill all of you.” – The Master.
With these words, strands of flaming barbed wire encircle two thirds of the initiates in the room and with a twist of his hand, they rip the would-be sorcerers apart, leaving only a fine red mist in the air and a nasty, gooey substance on the ground.
“You few left must now make amends for your mistakes. You will do this by starting from the bottom as neophytes of the Syndicate. Leave now, before I change my mind.” – The Master.
The surviving initiates, now culled, leave the reception room, physically intact, though covered in gore.

Standing now in a long, underground hallway, the newly-demoted neophytes take stock of their situation in the torchlight. Only three survived the Master’s wrath, the Roanfaille twins, Branimir and Benedykta Voijcinski and Lysrasor.
“We are all in this together now it would seem.” – Branimir, offering his hand to Lysrasor.
“Oh yeah, that’s his name now.” – PG, stumbling over Sins’ character’s name.
“Almost as bad as me with Kel’Serrar.” – Dev, musing.
“Noooo… Kel’Serrar is a lot easier than Lysrasor.” – Ladyhawk, also struggling.
“Is that right mate?” – PG.
“Lysrasor.” – Sins, delivering the name with a far cleaner pronunciation.
“Yeah alright, we’ll work on that.” – PG.
The strange young man gazes into space for a moment, listening to his inner voice before giving a small smile and shaking Bran’s hand.
“This is my sister Benedykta.” – Bran, indicating his twin, who gives a small nod of recognition.
The three then head to the mess hall.

Ahead of us sit members of the cells based in the Syndicate headquarters. The mess hall is almost an underground marketplace around a large group of wooden tables, enough for almost the entirety of the Syndicate’s many agents to be seated at once.

“As we are now neophytes, I assume we had best remain handy so that we may be called upon easily if we are sent on contract. I suggest a meal together to get to know each other a little better.” – Bran, taking charge.
The three start to head to an eating establishment, and it is at this point that Hctib appears from the shadows to trot alongside Lysrasor.
Hctib is a small, undead dog…
Benedykta can’t help herself and leans down to pet the creature, which does not acknowledge the motion in any way whatsoever. It attempts to yap at people walking by, but it makes no noise.
“Hctib has no vocal chords.” – Lysrasor, by way of explanation.
“He’s one of those little annoying yappy dogs, but has no vocal chords.” – Sins.
“So he’s annoying.” – Ladyhawk.
“But silent.” – Dev.
“He’s so annoyingly silent! Out of curiosity, what type of dog is it?” – PG.
“Word of God here, I’m going to say he looks like a beagle.” – Dev.
“A beagle with its vocal chords removed!” – Sins, brightly.
I lose it at this point.

The companions get their food and sit together at one of the tables, a bowl of meat and beans each with a glass of wine. Despite the given reason for the meal, neither the twins, nor Lysrasor make much of an effort to make conversation. The silence is reasonably companionable, though made awkward by the lack of knowledge they have of each other.

“So much for getting to know each other…” – PG.
“The silence seems to be getting to him.” – Sins, to Ladyhawk.
“Yes, and I have no sympathy.” – Ladyhawk.
“I now know all I need to know about the two of you… Dicks…” – PG, writing on an imaginary notepad.
There’s a bit of laughter.
“So what’s the plan? I guess seeing as we are neophytes, we’re not exactly allowed to have plans of our own right?” – PG.
“That’s right, you’ll get your orders soon.” – Dev.
“I want to know how we messed up to begin with?” – Ladyhawk.
“We know apparently…” – PG.
“Therefore I got lost on the way to the mission and couldn’t make it out of the cobwebs. Because I didn’t take navigation.” – Sins.
“Neither did I.” – Ladyhawk.
“Oh ****, I was going to and I forgot. None of us know where to go!” – PG, frantically looking at Bran’s character sheet.
“None of us know how to get out of the complex.” – Sins.
“Hey, does Hctib have the sense of smell of a living dog?” – PG.
“Affirmative.” – Sins.
“I suggest he is now our guide and leader. This will end fantastically.” – PG.

Branimir’s old mentor approaches our table and speaks to the group.
“I hear you are all neophytes again.” – Mentor.
“What of it?” – Benny, sharply.
“I’ve been ordered to give you your contract. You will receive 40 sulvers upon completion. Torycastro is a small city to the north. You are required to spy on the settlement, focusing on military matters and then report back. The more information you garner, the better off you will be. There may be a bonus payment if you are able to find any leverage the Master may be able to use against the lord of the city. As you would remember, you have no choice but to accept, or you will be killed.” – Mentor, to the companions.
“Seems fair.” – Bran.
“You will leave at dawn. Do not fail.” – Mentor, walking away.
The newly-made neophytes finish their meal and then go their separate ways for the night.

Branimir has taken up writing a journal to organise his thoughts, but so far has had no luck with actually writing anything lasting. It becomes a habit to write a few sentences, tear out the page and start again. Eventually he gives up in disgust and goes to sleep.

Lysrasor on the other hand takes Hctib and prowls the corridors, looking for other neophytes to prey on. Nothing serious, he simply hypnotises the occasional neophyte walking past him, causing the unfortunates to forget things like their name, where they were going or how to walk… Before going to his own personal chamber, he sets an illusory trap on the door of another initiate he dislikes. The next time that initiate tries to enter his room, the trap will be triggered and a tidal wave of shadow and bloodied eyes will stream out of the room. Smirking, Lysrasor goes to his own room, chatting happily under his breath to the voice in his head.

Meanwhile Benedykta retreats to the lowest dungeon of the Syndicate and practices her control of magic. She’s quite adept. Despite one minor hiccup, protective wards on the wall prevent any serious damage from occurring, and she learns from the experience. She leaves the room smelling of smoke and sulphur and goes to her own chamber.

The next morning, all three awaken in the dark hours before dawn and meet at the outer gate of the Syndicate’s headquarters, a low, thick rusted iron portcullis set into the rocky walls of the mountains. Torycastro is a half-day walk to the north, along the wilderness path.
Our horses were confiscated, so we asked for the reasoning behind that decision.
“Ah, Torycastro is within walking distance, so you wouldn’t need them.” – Dev.
We accepted this at the time, but then came the kicker.
“After two days of travel-“ – Dev.
“Hang on a minute, hang on a minute. Horses confiscated because we were within walking distance… It’s a freaking two day walk!?” – PG.
“You ****.” – Sins, to Dev.
“I thought, like two hours, or something? Not two days.” – Ladyhawk, in a thick Irish accent, which she drops in and out of as amuses her.
“My God, that Irish accent.” – Dev.
“My God, that horse confiscation.” – PG.
The trip becomes shorter and Dev mentions that the confiscation was more to do with punishment than the distance of travel.
“Good save.” – Ladyhawk, still in that same accent.

There is a reasonably companionable silence, save for Lysrasor’s constant muttering. Benedykta occasionally does the same, so neither of the twins are too taken aback by this.

* * *

The thick stone walls of Torycastro loom before the companions in the cold, northern midday sun. The gate-guard halts us at the gate, obviously concerned about the three armed individuals.
“Halt! What is your business here in town?” – Gate-guard, holding a halberd. He appears nervous despite his companion beside him at the gate and the other guards upon the wall and manning the gatehouse itself.
Lysrasor continues his muttering and Benedykta softly sings to herself under her breath. With a sigh, Bran responds to the man.
“We are travelling through on business of our own. We have some friends in high places and they would not be best pleased if we were hindered.” – Bran, staring the man down.
The man is cowed, at least partially due to Lysrasor and Benedykta being quite creepy. He ushers us through quickly, and shivers as we pass.

“Do you reckon you could draw up a map of the town please mate?” – PG, to Dev.
“Ah you bastard. Yeah, alright.” – Dev, taking a pencil and paper.
“This? This is payback for what we put him through.” – Sins, to Dev.
“Payback? Oh no, I just want a map. Payback would be asking for a detailed catalogue of the town library, and then asking for each book to be written. And then translated into Hebrew.” – PG.

We notice on our way to a local tavern that there appears to be a significant military presence gathering in camps inside the walls on either side of the main road. On one side, the majority of the troops are drilling with spear and shield. On the other, a much smaller contingent of tents and the occasional man walking around with sparks of energy flying from his fingers. We exchange grim looks with each other and keep walking, eventually finding a tavern.

We sit down at a booth in the back corner and begin to discuss our plans before swiftly realising we are not alone.
“It’s okay, we share the same master.” – Stranger, who looks like a twelve year old Midlander boy, clad in rough homespun and carrying two crossed sickles at his back. He gives a secret hand signal of the Syndicate, and Bran shifts over slightly, allowing the boy to sit beside him.
“My name’s Raven. I was ordered to find you and aid you in your contract.” – Raven, by way of introduction.
“So who exactly are you and what can you do for us?” – Bran, quietly.
“As I said, my name is Raven. And I kill people.” – Raven. As an aside, Wings’ voice for this character tends to sound vaguely Turkish. It’s a bit off-putting.
Some eyebrows are raised, but the boy gives off an aura of power and no one says anything. Except Lysrasor, but he doesn’t really stop the muttering anyway.

“Surely to get to this position, you must have some kind of unusual ability, especially for one so young. I’m trying to get at you turning into animals mate.” – PG to Wings, dropping character.
“I’d rather not show you in public.” – Raven’s response.
Ladyhawk cracked up here.
“Now you know my pain.” – PG, to Dev.
“Yes, this is feeling like just about the worst impulse decision ever. Now Wings, could you rephrase that one please, for the love of God?” – Dev.
“Nah, it’s fine. If he wants to surprise us with his power then that’s fine. We won’t pressure him.” – Ladyhawk.

“Well I guess we need to find out who the main powerbrokers are in town. Militarily we should probably find out numbers regarding the regular garrison and the army they’re mustering. For that matter, we need to find out who is doing the mustering and why. We need information on the leaders and quartermasters too, the better to get some kind of leverage. Whenever there’s a large body united in common cause, there’s always someone at the centre.” – Bran, to the rest of the group once the drinks have been served.
“This is true.” – Lysrasor, in a rare moment of lucidity.
“We could also find out about patrol routes, in and around the town.” – Bran, continuing on his spiel.
“Any existing or planned troop deployments would surely be good information too.” – Lysrasor.
“Indeed, and merchants in the township we can use. Worth finding out if there’s someone easily swayed we can use for a smuggling operation. If there’s someone starting to get too much power who may not be easily controlled then we might look at taking another couple of merchants under our protection and replacing the current dominant merchant.” – Benny, thoughtful.
“What we do need to know is the political situation here. Who really wields the power here?” – Lysrasor.
“So where do we go first?” – Raven.
“The markets and merchant district.” – Lysrasor, immediately.
“Agreed.” – Bran.
“It would look quite suspicious if we just arrived in the town and went straight to the barracks and started counting things after all.” – Lysrasor.
“Right, well it’s time to eat right now though, so let’s do that and then go look at the markets.” – Bran, his priorities in order.

We order our foodstuffs and enjoy our meal before heading to the markets alongside the river, a strange looking group. Two southern copperskins, a wild-looking boy and a tall man in black robes with a strange dog trotting beside him draw a lot of eyes, few of them friendly. The majority of the town are expatriate Southrons, with those of the local Northerner stock making an appearance every now and then. The four of us do stick out, even if Hctib was hidden from view.

More coming guys...

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-26, 09:03 AM
And we are back. :smallwink:

There’s a tangent here where Ladyhawk tells us she wants to find a fresh leek, as a nod to her experience in Skyrim, where the only leeks she could find in the game were of the grilled variety. It is a source of great frustration to her.

Dev describes a veritable vegetable paradise to her and she picks out her leek. Dev does, however, ask why she wants a leek, which Sins and I predictably jumped on.

The markets are mainly local foodstuffs, particularly fish and other seafood, likely taken from the river. A single blacksmith can be seen plying his trade on the riverfront, but he looks to be limited in his ability. Horseshoes and farming implements seem to stretch his expertise.

“Hmm, that is interesting. Such a large settlement with a sizable military presence and only one blacksmith, limited in ability. My guess would be that any smiths of note here have been conscripted for military purposes.” – Bran, under his breath to Benny, who nods in agreement.

There’s a minor scuffle between Raven and a guard over some petty theft and Bran walks over to try and break it up. He attempts to pick the boy up by the back of the shirt, but Raven wriggles free and kicks Bran in the shin, taking the Roanfaille by surprise, who recoils, his snarl of surprise quickly turning into laughter at the situation.

And then Benny kicks the boy in the leg, dropping him to the floor, though doing no serious damage.
“Are you done with the hyper-violence now?” – Dev, rapidly losing control of the situation.
“You did ask for it mate.” – Ladyhawk, to Dev.
“This has gotten off to a poor start.” – PG.
“Well you’re right there you bloody bastard!” – Wings, in character.
“… That’s it, knife to the throat.” – PG.
“You serious?” – Dev.
“Nah, but I’m going to kick his teeth in in a minute.” – PG.

Bran offers the boy a hand up, and he accepts after a moment.
“Thank you. But don’t get involved like that again.” – Raven, gritting his teeth.
“Fair enough. Good lad.” – Bran, with a pat on the head.

Lysrasor meanwhile has managed to get the guardsman to back off, simply by playing with Hctib. There is something not quite right about the dog that is noticed by even the most cursory of glances and between Hctib, Lys’ constant muttering to himself and the surprisingly gentle and playful way he treats the animal, the guardsman is well and truly creeped out.

We split up to look around the markets. Benny finds her leek and purchases it.
“You bought your leek.” – Dev, to Ladyhawk.
“Thank you.” – Ladyhawk. The recording sounds like she was strangely touched by this gesture.
“She took it. She took that leek.” – PG, giggling.
I couldn’t help it. This went on far too long.
“It was important she took that leek.” – PG. On the plus side, I had Wings and Sins laughing uncontrollably at this point.
“What would you like to do now?” – Dev.
“Was it green?” – PG, to Ladyhawk.
“Yes.” – Ladyhawk.
“Juicy?” – PG. Wings lost it.
“I wouldn’t know.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“Okay, can we stop talking about leeks? What would you like to do?” – Dev.
“Find a saner party.” – Sins, laughing. And there we have it, the necromancer with a pet zombie beagle and schizophrenia wanted to find saner friends.
That’s saying something right there.

Looking around the marketplace, we can’t really see any evidence of any particular merchant being in a position of dominance over the rest, and as most of the stuff available is just local produce, we move on. As it is heading into late afternoon, we decide to make our way to the Golden Chalice, an inn on the mercantile street to discuss our next move and get something for the evening meal.

The Golden Chalice is actually quite a pleasant place, well-furnished and kept in good order.
“Back again young master? Shall I set a table?” – Innkeeper, to Raven, who had led us to the establishment.
“Aye, thank you, for me and my companions.” – Raven, in reply.
The old innkeeper nods and we are informed that he and his wife, who co-own the place, have quickly taken an interest in Raven during his time in Torycastro, and have essentially showered attention on the ungrateful little bastard.
We troop into a booth, Bran, Benny and Raven on one side, Lysrasor and Hctib sitting happily on the other. The dog’s constant yapping is made only very marginally less annoying by its silence, and its unnatural grin is quite unsettling.

An earlier conversation regarding Lysrasor’s clothing comes up here. Sins didn’t write down any clothing items in his equipment, and so when Dev asked for details when we were leaving the Syndicate headquarters, all Sins could come up with on the spot was, “Uh, leather?”


We made bondage jokes as can be imagined.
“Just before leaving, black robes float down from the sky to clothe me.” – Sins.
“No, that’s not what happened. You were definitely wearing clothes the whole time. And they are normal clothes too, not robes made of death or whatever.” – Dev.
“Although, I can certainly see him wearing robes made of the skins of his enemies.” – PG.
“Yes, this. This is what I want.” – Sins.
“No, you’re not doing that.” – Dev, laughing.

Anyway, back to the present, that conversation came up again as Dev describes the inside of the Golden Chalice, including our characters sitting in a booth, one of which is wearing woollen robes the colour of shadow.
“See I envisaged the colour and consistency of bacon.” – PG.
“You get normal clothes!” – Dev, to Sins.
‘But can he get bacon clothes?” – PG.
“NO!” – Dev.
“I was considering wearing a man-size Twinky.” – Sins, referring of course to the hollow cake roll with cream.

“So, who are your charming companions?” – Innkeeper, to Raven. He has come over to our booth to deliver the drinks and has inspected us with a raised eyebrow.
“Well I’m a paid bodyguard.” – Lysrasor, still playing with his dog.
“And we’re just friends.” – Benny, quietly. She knows Bran hates lying.
The innkeeper finishes placing the drinks down, nods and walks away.

We timed our appearance at the Golden Chalice well. It is only now starting to fill for the evening hours, and we have managed to get a booth right up in the back corner, away from the main hub of activity.
“You specifically go for one right up in the back, right?” – Dev.
“Absolutely, right in the back corner.” – PG.
“We aren’t looking suspicious at all, are we?” – Wings, sarcastic.
“Well the room’s quite full and no one’s paying you guys much attention. You were lucky.” – Dev.
“Most people do like to plot in the shadows in the back corner. We were lucky we got in early.” – PG.
“We got in as the lunch crowd were leaving.” – Wings.
“Yes, they have done their plotting for the day.” – Sins.

“I’m growing quite concerned about the army massing in the camps behind the gate. There’s also the main keep, which we haven’t looked at yet, but it would stand to reason that the lord of this town would have a personal guard in addition to the town guard.” – Bran, laying out his notes.

Despite his lack of success with writing his personal journal, the Roanfaille warrior is an avid writer, having learnt the art amongst the southern mercenary companies after leaving home. It didn’t take long for him to realise the advantage he could gain by actually being able to read the contracts he was signing. Few mercenary captains expected a Roanfaille horseman to be able to read and write, and Bran has always believed in having his enemies underestimate him in all things.

Raven has been in Torycastro for some time now, and has a fair bit of information for us. No exact numbers, but he does know that the town’s garrison is substantial in size and appear to be well-drilled.

“So, let’s look at summoning a daemon in the middle of the town. Where’s the warehouse district?” – Sins, in a call-back to the second 3 Coins arc.
“That’s not a bad idea actually.” – Ladyhawk.
“Until the five adventurers show up and **** up our ****.” – Wings.

“We need to look at some more decisive figures, perhaps breaking into the guard captain’s quarters and sneaking a look at the ledger there. That should give us an idea of the garrison size. I wish we knew what the plan was for this town, but we can hardly pave the way for anything when we don’t know what the ‘anything’ is.” – Bran, thoughtful.
“It’s not that unsurprising really that we don’t know. We’re neophytes again, remember? They wouldn’t entrust any more information to us than strictly necessary.” – Lysrasor.
“Very true. Okay, Benny and I will pose as mercenaries, which should be easy enough seeing as it is no disguise. Anyone looking to muster an army will not turn away experience sellswords, so we will go in there, gather some information on numbers and figures of influence and get paid to do so.” – Bran.

And we called it there…

The Wrap-Up:
Honestly, I really enjoyed this. It was a great opportunity for me to take a look at the game from another perspective, plus I quite enjoy playing but never really get a chance to. It was also really good to actually play a character I had created for once. My only long-running game, my character was created for me, concept and all.

The session itself was a good introductory one I felt, and I wouldn't mind collating this adventure and helping Dev publish it once it reaches it's finale.

Dev did a good job really in keeping us on track. I have no doubt we are a difficult group to manage with all the off-topic talk, and I am one of the worst offenders for that. :smallbiggrin:

I hope this was an entertaining read and I'm sure it will not be long before we revisit these same characters.

Cheers,

Amidus Drexel
2015-03-26, 10:30 AM
Ha, leeks. That session sounded like a lot of fun (well-done evil games normally are). :smallamused:

Gah, I've gotten so far behind on reading these. At some point, I'm just going to re-read everything and then I'll be up-to-date.

Phoenixguard09
2015-03-26, 04:31 PM
I'll admit, I was sceptical going in. I thought it would quickly turn into Chaotic Stupid rather than an actual evil game, but Dev managed to keep the situation in hand and the rest of the players were generally pretty happy to work as a team.

For now at least... :smallwink:

Lady Darkmoon
2015-04-14, 09:50 AM
Next time on 3 Coins:
The murder mysteries gripping Urik's Landing are resolved, the party goes to hell and comes back out and Tremor finally realises his power.

Oh, and Breanna is left stranded in a dark and dangerous place...

Because I'm stupid :smallwink:

Phoenixguard09
2015-04-19, 02:16 PM
Well I am three and a half hours into the write-up and I can safely say that it is by far the longest write-up we've had. You guys are in for a real treat... :smallsmile:

Stay tuned,

Phoenixguard09
2015-04-22, 12:45 PM
Session 4.2: Dark Places and Reality Hopping

The roaring fireplace gives the room a soft glow, illuminating it for a family of Invarrians sitting upon the rich furs on the floor. One black-furred and fully grown male, holds a black and white youngster, barely three years old while the other adult, a black and white female struggles with the other three pups, trying to get them under the blanket.

"Hush now pups, and I will tell you about the feared Odon the Black." - Haelfa Oakenshield, to her children whilst settling them down for bed.
"I don't want to hear about Odon, Ma. Tell us about Olorin Shipbreaker instead!" - Hosker Oakenshield.
"No, we head about him last night! Tell us about Manda Silvertongue!" - Helga Oakenshield, lightly batting at her brother's head.
"Come now children, you need to take what you are given. Your mother has offered to tell you a story of Odon the Black. Come listen with me and Harold..." - Hendrik Oakenshield, holding a young Harold Oakenshield tightly...

Welcome to Session 4.2

“Hello, you lost The Game!” – LD.
For posterity, we played Dorito Roulette and it was outstanding, awesome, really good value, hilarious and such a good idea. Only Sins was unimpressed. I was the first to get a spicy one, and it did screw me up for the rest of the day.

We did lose Opal for this session as she had family issues to deal with, but we hope that she will slot back in neatly over the next session or two. To explain this, Therressa has taken off to deliver a reply from Harold to his sister, Helga on Varr.

We left our intrepid heroes at the Blackmane Inn where they discussed their next moves regarding the murders plaguing Urik’s Landing.
“Didn’t we choose this mission because we were sick of dealing with dark magic? And what do we find? Supernatural killings. Damn it guys!” – Sins.
It is early evening and the companions have just finished having dinner.


- The first murder: Berrilynn, Northmann girl, 22 years old. An outlander from the north, and serving girl at the Irontusk Inn. Found cloven in half on the side of the main street and missing most of her internal organs.
- The second murder: Northmann girl, 19 years old. A farm girl from an outlying hamlet. No one is sure of her name as the hamlet was found devastated by a Dwergar border raid from Nordtarnet after her death. Missing only the bones from her legs.
- The third murder: Northmann girl, 27 years old. Stablehand at the Irontusk Inn. Missing all her limbs.
- The fourth murder: Midlander girl, 21 years old. Daughter of Hav Goldfingers, a merchant aligned with the Blackmanes. Missing only her face.
- The last murder: Approximately 24 years old. Serving girl at the Blackmane Inn, daughter of Orolf Anvil-Hand, the smith who plies his trade outside Lordshall.

Naturally this information is incomplete, but it is accurate.

“Well, we went to where they found the first body and we didn’t find much. We did find this amulet and there are traces of a preserving spell.” – Maebh, to the group. Breanna puts the iron amulet down in the centre of the table for everyone to see.

Therressa had left the iron amulet found in the snow where a body had been left, with Breanna before departing the Landing, and so the Leathe and Maebh study it together to see if they can find out anything important. Unfortunately, they don’t turn up anything more than what they already saw earlier. The amulet itself is mundane in nature, however it was certainly in the vicinity of the preservation spell which was likely cast on the corpse.

As soon as he sees it however, Tremor snatches it away. It seems like only an instant to everyone else at the table, but to Tremor it feels like an eternity as he stares at the dagger etched into the iron pendant.
“This is a thing of evil. You will be familiar with it soon.” – Haunting female voice…
Tremor gets the feeling that the amulet itself is not what she is referring to, but the magic which sits in a web around the iron.

It is far too cold outside, so they decide not to do anything until the next day and they retreat to their rooms for the rest of the night.

* * *

The morning arrives and the weather has cleared substantially. It is still very cold and grey, but it is no longer death weather, as Ladyhawk put so well.

Most of the companions go to Jurdric’s practise, save for Harold who instead goes to Theyne Embermald’s long hall.

Maebh, Tremor, Kel’Serrar and Breanna:
Tremor knocks on the door to the surgery and it is opened by Endric, Doktor Jurdric’s son.
“And what can we do for you today?” – Endric, towering over all four companions. He cannot recognise Kel’Serrar, who has picked a random man of the crew of the Winter Wind to look like today, the better to blend into the townsfolk.
“We would like to inspect the most recent murder victim.” – Maebh, blunt.
“Are you the godsfolk? To take her down to the sea?” – Endric, sceptical.
“No, we are not.” – Tremor, gruff.
“No? Then why are you here to bother the dead?” – Endric, arms crossed.
“We want to examine her to find the killer.” – Maebh.
“I don’t know what kind of heathen traditions you hold to in the south, but we do not do that here. Unless you are here for treatment, clear off.” – Endric.
“I’ll take him out at the kneecaps.” – Wings.
“Looks like a job for the possum.” – LD.
“If you want the killer to be found before he kills more people, you will let us see the body.” – Maebh, with a dangerous gleam in her eye.
Endric gives them a worried look, which grows steadily more concerned as Maebh’s hands start to crackle with power.
“Fine, come on through. Just don’t burn anything.” – Endric, holding the door open.

The body of the girl is laid out upon a stone table. And she is a mess.

Harold:
Harold Oakenshield inspects each of the murder sites marked on his map. The Invarrian’s powerful nose can pick up the scent of dark magic, but that is just about all he can find. There would appear to be no blood splatters or any signs of struggle in the vicinity of where the bodies were found, which is in keeping with the information they already had.

Unfortunately, Harold is disadvantaged by the fact that the most recent murder was still several nights ago and there has been a lot of wind and snow since the body was moved.

He moves on to Lordshall on the hill to the north-east of the town, thinking to examine the theyne’s personal archive to find any information he can on serial killers in the town’s history.

Maebh, Tremor, Kel’Serrar and Breanna:
The companions start to closely examine the corpse on the stone table. Within moments, they have all uncovered some startling information. Kel’Serrar is able to determine that the magic which permeates the girl’s flesh is preserving in nature, while Breanna recognises that the daemonic energy used to power the spell had an affinity to ice.

Most troubling is Maebh's discovery.
"Whoever did this is formally trained in the arcane." - Maebh, grim.
"Hmm, so a warlock with formal training. There are very few places where one can get training in the black arts, so there's a good chance this person is more than just an amateur warlock. He could be a mage too." - Breanna, arms crossed.

"How long were we on that ship?" - Sins.
"About two months."
"And the first killing was around two months ago... Anyone else picking up on the ice affinity too? Ice-based preserving spells and a massive snowstorm which almost killed us and isolated the town." - Sins.
"It's a bit obvious don't you think?" - Dev.
"Maybe, but it's really bothering me. I'm pretty sure they're connected." - Sins.

The poor girl has been cut from clavicle to navel and her ribcage removed from the body, seemingly without disturbing the rest of the body. It's quite astounding really and great care was taken not to damage anything.

Doktor Jurdric walks in, followed by his apprentice, Welyn, a much shorter, dark-haired man, obviously a Midlander.
"What in all the hells are you doing in here?" - Jurdric, of the companions as soon as his rheumy eyes fall upon them.
"Examining the body." - Maebh, coolly.
"It's okay father, I allowed them in." - Endric, laying a calming hand on his father's shoulder. The old doktor throws the hand off and grumbles about their presence, but says nothing further to them. Welyn approaches the table.
"So, what have you found?" - Welyn, hopeful.
"That's none of your concern." - Maebh.
"I've been trying to piece it all together myself actually. If you tell me what you've found I will share my notes on the other bodies with you. It's the only way you'll find out about them, as they're all at the bottom of the ocean now." - Welyn, helpfully.
"Okay, then. Let's talk." - Tremor.

The companions thank Endric for his time and leave, Welyn leading them to his accommodation.

Harold:
Approaching Lordshall, Harold is stopped at the top of the stairs by a doorward, a large man clad in heavy leathers and a thick wool and fur cloak. A massive roundshield strapped over his shoulder and a hand on the broadsword at his belt, the doorward is an imposing sight, but Harold has dealt with his kind before.

"Halt! What business does a reaver have in the halls of Southreach royalty?" - Doorward, challenging.
"Does not an Invarrian rule from this hall? Would he not see a kinsman?" - Harold.
"No, the theyne is a Northmann, of one of the purest bloodlines in Unterguardt, not a mere salt-drenched sea-wolf." - Doorward, derisive.
"And neither am I. I am a man of wisdom seeking new knowledge in your lord's hall. I wish to consult his archives." - Harold, lying about not being a salt-drenched sea-wolf. But his motive was honest.
"So you're book-learned?" - Doorward, that derisive tone not leaving his voice.
"Aye, that I am." - Harold.

The Invarrian is shown inside and into the theyne's archive, a large underground room lit only by a single closed lantern on a lonely desk. The theyne's book-keeper is a friendly old man, his grey eyes sunken deep into his skull and his hair long since having abandoned his skull. Despite his friendliness, the book-keeper passes on a grave warning.
"The theyne is not a man of great learning but he treasures his archive. Damage anything and you will pay. And if you cannot pay, you will die." - Book-keeper, patting Harold conciliatorily on the arm.
The Invarrian had seen the massive theyne holding court in the hall as he passed through to the archive, and even from a distance and at rest, the man looked capable of crushing a marcwolf's skull with his bare hands.

"Hey PG, what is the symbol for the doctor here?" - Wings, out of nowhere.
"Uh... an... anchor. Yeah, an anchor."
"Well that doesn't make any less sense than, you know, a snake coiled around a staff or something." - Dev.
"You see, it is seen that those who practise medicine and see to your ailments and illnesses and injuries and the like are your anchor to life itself."
"Well done PG. Wonderful use of improv." - Sins.
"Damn I'm good!" - Laughing, and quoting Ace Ventura.

Maebh, Tremor, Kel’Serrar and Breanna:
It quickly becomes apparent that Welyn is leading the companions to the Irontusk Inn, which naturally the companions cannot enter on pain of death.

Well, Kel'Serrar could easily do so by just taking another identity, which he has practically been doing none stop since he manifested the ability to do so.

And Breanna probably could by a combination of climbing, vaulting and sneaking.

And Tremor could potentially dig a tunnel which came up directly under Welyn's room within the next day.

And Maebh could still set the whole place on fire, teach them a valuable lesson about angering mages with meaningless feuds and damn the consequences.

But none of them do as such, instead having Welyn go in and collect the notes by himself and bring them out to neutral ground.

How's that, the players turned down an opportunity to murder-hobo in a town. Who says PC's can't change their ways?

Upon returning with a selection of notebooks, the companions get a special dispensation from Alrik, the Blackmane barkeep, to allow Welyn to come in an sit in the common room, without need to fear for his personal safety. Alrik agrees, but refuses to serve the man, which Welyn wearily agrees to.

Breanna tells the apprentice doktor of what they found out about the girl, while her other companions pore over Welyn's books. He started his investigations immediately after the first girl was killed. She was an outlander, much like him so his fear at the time was that he was next. The fact that she was his sweetheart and they had travelled south together only made the fear worse. It wasn't long after the murders began that Welyn began to start questioning the possibility of transplants and why the organ of a healthy woman cannot replace the organs of an unhealthy one.

He theorises that the murderer might in fact be that, a woman using the body parts to rejuvenate herself.

He also draws out a worn sulver from his pocket.
"I found this in the snow next to the corpse of the third girl, a 27 year old stablehand from the Irontusk Inn. I knew her, a little, and she was not well-travelled. So it surprised me when I saw where this was minted." - Welyn, passing Tremor the old coin.
Engraved on the back of the coin, the symbol of the Brilliant Towers of Drell.

The foremost centre of magical learning in Norbayne, the Brilliant Towers are an island fortress far to the south. Noble families all over Norbayne often send second sons and the like to the Towers as it brings prestige to the family.

The Towers are more than a school, but are rather a way of life as students are tutored in every portion of how they live their lives. It is a demanding place and few are able to see their education through to the end, but those who do are some of the most focussed and magically powerful beings in the known world.

The apprentice also passes on information they already knew, in that there have never been any tracks around the bodies and that the injuries caused are only those which seem to have been inflicted to obtain whatever parts the killer was after. For example, the only injury inflicted upon the girl who had her face torn off was exactly that, the loss of her face. What actually killed her is still unknown.

Harold:
The history of the town is very dry reading, and Harold quickly finds himself struggling to stay awake. Strangely enough, even in the official records, the origins of the Blackmane and Irontusk feud are very vague.

As to any mention of historical killings, Urik's Landing, for what it is, has always been reasonably peaceful. Even when it was ruled by the Invarrians, the Landing was still ruled by whoever wielded the biggest sword. And when it wasn't, it was the man who threw the biggest fireballs. Law in the town has always been simple too. If you were wronged, you were fully within rights to go murder them. So for what it was, the town has always been reasonably peaceful.

About a hundred years ago the town tried to secede from the kingdom of Southreach but were unsuccessful. And that's just about it really. No serial killings. Plenty of killing, whether accidental, or condoned vengeance, but no one prowling the streets and preying on the populace.

"No history of serial killers and now they just had five enter... This is going to apocalyptic for them." - Sins.

On the other hand, browsing through a census from over two hundred years ago reveals that Odon the Black was born and lived in the Landing for some time. No information is given, but Harold knows the story well.

Odon the Black was a feared Invarrian sorceror and the subject of many Invarrian bedtime tales. They were some of Harold's favourite stories growing up, but he can't remember much in the way of details now.

"My friend, what do you know of Odon the Black?" - Harold, to the theyne's book-keeper.
"Well, he was born and raised here, but he left after his twentieth nameday and his well-known reign of terror was conducted to the south." - Book-keeper.
"Would any of his own books be found in this archive?" - Harold.
"I rather doubt it, but I will search for you if you would like." - Book-keeper, happy to help.
"That would be great. I will return tomorrow around the same time to see if you have found anything." - Harold, shaking the man's hand and taking his leave. He has devised a plan and needs to fill in his companions.

Maebh, Tremor, Kel’Serrar and Breanna:
"So, Welyn, do you know of any outlanders that may have come from the far south?" - Maebh, turning the coin over in her fingers.
"To my knowledge, there is no one in the town who is actually a Southron. The one name which springs to mind is the theyne's court wizard, Heimdar. He may have been trained at the Towers, but he is from Southreach originally." - Welyn.
"And where are you from?" - Maebh.
"The Gwyrai woods, to the west of your homelands. I have not seen the woods for many years now." - Welyn.
"Well, I hope that one day you get the chance to go back there. Meanwhile, I must go speak with this court wizard." - Maebh, standing to leave.
Breanna and Kel'Serrar make to follow and the three of them turn to see Harold walk into the inn, freshly returned from his library visit. Tremor stays seated to finish his latest alcoholic conquest and Harold joins him, passing the others on his way to the table with a friendly nod.

Maebh, Kel'Serrar and Breanna:
The three companions traipse off to Lordshall and make their way to the top of the stone stairway.
"Well then, more newcomers. This is unusual. State your business." - The doorward, who is still imposing.
It must be said that a lithe and wild-looking Danann and a dark-clad Leathe are not the kind that he would usually be turning away. The rough and ragged sailor Kel'Serrar is impersonating, with exaggerated rolling walk is more the kind he deals with.
"I would see Heimdar the wizard. I wish to know if we were fellow students at the Brilliant Towers." - Maebh, imperiously.
"I will find out if he will see you, stay here." - Doorward, turning his great, fur-covered shoulders and striding into the longhall.
"You studied at the Towers?" - Breanna, whispering, eyes wide.
"No." - Maebh, hissing between her clenched teeth.

The doorward swiftly returns.
"He will not see you. I am sorry." - Doorward, apologetically.
"Why not?" - Maebh, sharp.
"Because he is otherwise engaged and regardless, he is not disposed to open his door to any vagrant who shows up on his doorstep and begs entrance." - The doorward, who then raises his hands innocently. "His words, not mine."
"A moment, please." - Maebh, to the doorward. She then turns her back and beckons her companions in close.
"The way I see it is, we have three options. Option one, we go in there and talk to the jarl and see what he knows and how he can help us. Option two, we leave now, come back tonight and capture the wizard. Or option three, we go in hands blazing." - Maebh, whispering.
"I'm for shanking him in the knee." - Breanna cheerfully.
"Is there any way I can see him? What is his schedule for the day?" - Maebh, turning back to the doorward.
"I rather doubt it. As to his schedule, well he locks himself in his room all day, presumably doing spellwork. He emerges only for food or as commanded by the theyne, who only calls on him sparingly. And then he goes back in, I guess for more spellwork." - Doorward.
"What time does he come out for food?" - Maebh, latching onto an idea.
The doorward names a time in the early evening.
"And I would be allowed into the messhall at this time?" - Maebh, continuing on her track.
"I don't see why not..." - Doorward.
"Excellent. I shall see you then." - Maebh, turning on her heel and returning to the Blackmane Inn.

Breanna and Kel'Serrar exchange concerned looks and follow her back.

* * *

The three return to the inn to find that Welyn has left and that Harold has been trying to discuss the coming move into Nordtarnet with Tremor. The dwarf would usually have been quite attentive to this conversation, but as the days passed found himself growing more and more preoccupied with the knowledge he gleaned from the manuscripts found in the Wolf King's lair.

Script which he could make neither heads nor tails of just weeks ago was suddenly starting to make a very real and frightening sense. He starts to get a feeling that a lot of what he is reading about, all of a sudden, he could do. This scares him a little, as murdering lots of people, raising them from the dead and then taking over large swathes of the countryside had never really occurred to him before. Now though, now, he looks forward to it in a detached kind of way.

The companions eat lunch and discuss their next moves, and it is decided that rumour-mongering is the plan. Harold and Kel’Serrar head to the marketplace to gather some information, Maebh and Breanna to the gates to talk to the guards and Tremor to Lordshall.

Tremor:
"Another stranger. What is your business here?" - Doorward, surprised.
"I wish to see the court wizard." - Tremor, gruff.
"You are not the first to seek audience with him today. He is unlikely to agree to a meeting." - Doorward, frowning.
"Tell him I have some scrolls of an unknown nature that I would like him to have a look at." - Tremor.
The guard nods and turns to enter the hall, but abruptly stops and turns back to Tremor.
"And where did you find these scrolls?" - Doorward, curious.
"In the highest tower of an undead mad king to the south." - Tremor, truthfully.
"I see." - Doorward, eyes widening.
The guard is gone for only a short moment before returning.
"Master Heimdar will see you immediately." - Doorward, showing Tremor in.

The court wizard's personal quarters are a small annex off the northern wing of the hall. Upon being led through a carefully engraved wooden door, Tremor takes in a sparsely furnished room. The one concession to vanity is a large mirror on the wall across from the doorway, its frame carved with intricate runes.

Tremor's vision snaps back and again he can see the great burning pine before him.
"THERE!" - The mysterious female voice.
The Dwergar gets the feeling she is pointing accusingly at the runes before them. He has only a split second to ponder this before he is snapped back into the real world, the after image of the burning pine imprinted on his mind.

Heimdar himself is small for a Northmann, a situation not helped by the way he stoops. He looks more ancient than he is, in part due to the long grey beard which obscures most of his face and trails down to mid-chest. He is clad in a long dark grey robe of coarse wool.

The wizard gives Tremor a strange look as the Dwergar's eyes clear. It takes a moment for him to blink away the effects of the vision, but is soon able to see Heimdar standing next to his desk, a sturdy wooden affair covered in arcane manuscripts.

The wizard extends a hand in greeting and the dwarf hurries forward to shake it.
"Well met, my name is Barandin Stonefist." - Tremor, hiding his true identity.
"Stonefist eh? Cousin to the Ironfists... Well I wouldn't go north my friend, it is a bad time for your family up there by all the accounts which have come south. May I offer you a drink and a seat?" - Heimdar, in a friendly manner.
The wizard calls in a servant to attend their needs, bringing a wooden chair for Tremor and then two flagons of mead from the theyne's cellar.

"So, let's get down to business. You have some things you wish me to look at, and I very much would like to see them. I hear something about an undead king?" - Heimdar, cradling his flagon.
"Aye, an ancient kingdom in the Midlands whose king had come back to wreak vengeance upon the living. We slew him and I raided his library." - Tremor, setting his flagon down and pulling forth the scrolls from his backpack.
"Ah, now these are interesting." - Heimdar, taking the scrolls from Tremor and examining them one at a time.
For his part, the Dwergar enjoys his mead and is drawn over and over again to the runes around the frame of the mirror. His mind starts to wander and he can hear the very faintest of otherworldly screams. In his current state, to Tremor it sounds like the screams are coming from within the mirror. Blue flames rush across the surface of the reflection then and he gasps.

The apparition vanishes, and the mirror's reflection is as it should be.

"I said is anything wrong?" - Heimdar, concerned. Tremor notices that the wizard has set the scroll aside and is looking worriedly at the dwarven engineer.
"Aye, nothing the matter. I was just admiring your mirror. I am a runecrafter myself you see and I am impressed by the craftsmanship on display there." - Tremor.
"The mirror is a family heirloom of mine. I must confess I have no idea what purpose they serve, but I keep the mirror as it reminds me of my family, of whom I have nothing else left." - Heimdar, taking another draught of mead.
"I see. Now, would you happen to know about a burning pine?" - Tremor, fishing for information.
Any warmth on the man's face, of which there was very little to begin with, flees.
"The symbol of the one the peoples of Norbayne called the Witch-Queen of the North, Kresimina. Centuries ago, Kresimina sought out the secrets of an endless life, specifically a life in which time could not diminish her beauty nor her power. None can say for certain whether she achieved that goal or not, as she just disappeared from all records. She is considered a figure of dread in the histories and legends of many northern kingdoms." - Heimdar, gravely.
"I saw a mention of it on a tapestry in the south and had no idea what it referred to." - Tremor, lying again.
"Hmm, interesting that relics of her reign have drifted so far. Her predations were restricted to the very northern kingdoms of Norbayne. If ever you come across that tapestry again, I would be very willing to buy it from you." - Heimdar.
"We did not take it with us unfortunately, but I do have some other pieces which might interest you." - Tremor, fishing out the Slates of Anagas from his pack.

One of the pieces which was taken from the Wolf King's library, this set of carved shale slates is contained in an engraved pewter cover. Despite the sheer amount of work which went into carving the stone with the tightly packed runes, the volume appears to be illegible gibberish.
"Oh my, this is something indeed." - Heimdar, running a hand appraisingly over the engravings on the cover.
"Taken from the same king's personal library. I have no knowledge of the language they are written in." - Tremor, finishing his mead.
"I am very interested in this. May I keep it? For now of course. I think I may be able to decipher it, though it would take some time to do so. I would be willing to pay obviously." - Heimdar, engrossed in the carvings.
"Yes, if I can get a copy of the translation when you are done." - Tremor, haggling.
They settle on Tremor providing the scrolls and Slates of Anagas for Heimdar's research. In return he receives 26 sulvers, a promise that he will receive a translated copy when the work is done, and the opportunity to copy down the runes around Heimdar's mirror.
Both men feel confident that they have come out first in this deal.

Before leaving, Tremor extracts a pledge that the translations of the scrolls will be complete within the week.

Maebh and Breanna:
The two girls head to the guards at the gatehouse and are generally unsuccessful, the guards here proving to be a rather close-mouthed lot, unlike their kin in other lands. They do stress the danger of being outside the walls after dark.

A large creature stalks the marshes to the north, preying on the hamlets and their livestock. Just a few nights past, a girl was killed and her father mauled and left in a death-like sleep.

"It never rains, it pours." - Sins.

Harold and Kel'Serrar:
Harold and Kel'Serrar on the other hand have more luck rumour-mongering in the market, and quickly deduce that the common folk generally still believe that Welyn, the friendly apprentice doktor, is to blame for the murders. Lately though, public opinion is starting to shift towards him due to his open and friendly nature.

There is also a lot of talk about the creature terrorising the outlying hamlets.

The companions return to the Blackmane Inn to discuss their next move. It is late afternoon and the weak sunlight is starting to fade in the sky.
"I have a strong feeling that the wizard up in Lordshall is the one we should be following up on." - Maebh, nursing a flagon of water.
"Well I just gave him some stuff I needed translated, so you can't kill him for a week." - Tremor, brooking no argument.
"I have made a promise that I would meet him this evening." - Maebh.
"Promise? Threat more like." - Breanna, laughing and drawing a friendly swipe from Maebh.
"Whatever. My point is, I can hardly back down on this now." - Maebh, turning her attention back to Tremor.
"I need that stuff translated. Leave him be for a week. You can kill him after that if you must." - Tremor, taking a drink.
"I do have a plan to try and draw out this murderer." - Harold, leaning across the table.
"Yes, what is this plan?" - Breanna, eating a peach.
"Well, as we have seen, Kel'Serrar here is quite adept at changing his face." Harold, turning to Kel'Serrar, who has taken on the shape and form of yet another Northmann sailor from the ship which brought them to Urik's Landing. "How would you like to be bait?"
"I'm sorry, what?" - LD.
"Yeah, don't worry LD I heard 'baked' too." - Ladyhawk.
"As did I. I was just trying to figure out if he meant marijuna or just cooking Kel'Serrar into a pie.
'You know how you can change your appearance? Well good, I want you to turn into pastry goodness."
"Not greatly, but then I do rarely like your plans so it is no worse than usual." - Kel'Serrar, sardonic.
"Good, then I believe you should change your appearance into that of a human woman and go out onto the street tonight to see what comes up." - Harold, ignoring the pessimism.
"This is an absolutely awful plan and I will make your life hell for this." - Kel'Serrar, resigned.
"So, no worse than usual. We are agreed that we will do this?" - Harold, getting one back on the surly ranger.
"If it is the wizard and he does come out, can we kill him then Tremor?" - Maebh.
"Yes, if he attacks one of us, then yes. He's fair game." - Tremor, shrugging.

* * *

And so that sees Kel'Serrar, in the guise of Dhara Silverwood standing on the main street outside the Blackmane Inn, looking nervously at every shadow and fingering the knife at his/her belt. All of his/her other weapons were left inside the inn, much to Kel'Serrar's consternation.

All around him, the rest of his companions lie in wait, ready to spring into action should something assault the ranger/damsel.

A sound comes from an alleyway further into the town and behind the Irontusk Inn, but even Kel'Serrar's sharp ears cannot pick up what it is. He/she is on edge, when a small black cat emerges from around the corner of the Irontusk Inn. The cat takes one look at the lonely woman standing on the street and bolts away into the shadows.

Almost an hour passes with no more disturbance, as Kel'Serrar paces up and down the street. His companions have hunkered down and are doing their best to stay warm, but it is a futile effort. The ice has solidified in both Harold's and Breanna's fur and Tremor's beard is practically shimmering in the waning moonlight. Only Maebh seems relatively unaffected, still and silent in the shadow of a house and shrouded in dark furs.

A guardsman bearing a torch and covered in so many furs that he approaches at a waddle more than a walk comes down from the north gate.
"Lass, what are you- It's not safe out here! You'll catch your death of cold!" - Guardsman, concerned.
"Not at all. Just taking the night air for a short while." - Kel'Serrar, who gives an unconscious shiver.
"But is freezing out here! I must insist you go in. I don't mean to scare you, but besides the cold, the Landing isn't safe for women after dark." - Guardsman, still concerned.
"I will go in shortly, I can look after myself." - Kel'Serrar, dismissing him.
The guardsman keeps walking down to the docks, looking back over his shoulder at the ranger/damsel and muttering under his breath. Naturally he now believes that Kel'Serrar is both the killer and some ancient monster incapable of feeling the depths of winter's chill. Well he would, if the person he had dealings with looked anything like Kel'Serrar, but they didn't. So, in fact, his suspicions are actually directed at Dhara handily enough.

Kel'Serrar decides that if there is no more action in the next two hours, he is going to make his way into the Irontusk Inn and find a room there where the rest of the party cannot follow. That'll teach them to make him disguise himself as a woman and then freeze to death in the main street.

Naturally, Kel'Serrar is nowhere near as heavily protected from the cold as he should be. After all, the bait has to look appetizing, and no ball of fur has ever exactly looked stylish and attractive.

This of course, only fuels Kel'Serrar's contempt.

* * *

An hour passes and the guard returns on his route. He nods at the ranger/damsel, makes a sign to ward against evil an hurries away. The cat does not return, much to Breanna's disappointment.

The second hour passes and the guard does not return.

It is very cold and very dark, and the companions who have been lying in wait are starting to get impatient. Unable to take the waiting much longer, Tremor stands and heads down to the wharf, where the guard was last seen walking towards. The Dwergar, despite his keen eyesight in the dark can see no trace of the guardsman. In fact, there does not seem to be any trace of guards anywhere around the town, nor any signs of struggle.

Kel'Serrar follows Tremor down to the wharf and just as he steps onto the wooden pier, there is a flash of cold blue light on the ground beneath his feet.
Willpower Check to resist the spell's effects. It is failed. In response, Sins asks if he can cast a single spell with instantaneous casting time in the split second before the spell takes effect. I put it down to an Initiative Check, which is passed, thanks to the re-roll garnered from doing the homework I set everyone. See guys? Advantages aplenty!

The sky begins to glow overhead, revealing much of what had been hidden just moments before. The shadows most of the companions are using for concealment, suddenly offer nothing in the silvery glow. Even Breanna's Shadowskin fails her, rippling across her flesh in the light before she dispels it with a sigh.

The collective gaze of the companions is drawn to where Kel'Serrar stands on the pier, rooted to the spot. Faint tendrils of ice-blue magic are entwined around his/her legs, preventing the ranger/damsel from moving. Maebh and Breanna hurry over to their trapped companion and start to study the spell holding him/her.

Breanna immediately smells the acrid tang of daemonic energy, a large amount of which was used to power this spell. It bears the same hallmarks as the power used to fuel the preservation spells woven into the corpses too, although the daemon bound by the caster was a different individual.

Maebh on the other hand, is able to determine more. First, that this was a trap, and one of many set up around the town, a snare for the hunter to return to at its leisure. Secondly, that the one who cast this spell was a master. A mere journeyman would have been unable to prevent the spell from loosening a crack when it was triggered, a sharp noise which would draw attention. The fact that this caster was able to fold the spell in on itself the way they did suggests that the caster is a very powerful and learned individual. In fact, the flash of light which they had all noticed was only caused by a reaction with Kel'Serrar's active glamer, the field of energy suffusing the disguised Danann's flesh clashing with the paralysing ward he stepped upon. Even now, paralysed on the pier, his disguise starts to fail, the glamer retreating up his legs slowly.

"Are you kidding me? Helpless again?" - Sins.

We broke here for lunch.

"So, the plan guys?"
"The plan has gone horribly!" - Dev.
"As to be expected!" - Sins.

They perform Search Checks and Wings rolls a 1.
"There are no individuals hiding in the area."
"What? With a 1, how could I not find them?" - Wings.
"Well it is hard to find people if there is no one there, no matter how hard you look..."

The conversation then turns to the trap, which has claimed one of the companions...

"So, this thing is a trap which has been set to allow the person who set it to come back and retrieve the body when no one's around?" - Ladyhawk.
"Aye, that makes sense."
"So why don't these people just yell for help?" - Ladyhawk.
"Sins, do you want to try to yell for help?"
"I'm completely paralysed. That's going to stop vocalisation, right?" - Sins.
"That's right I'm afraid."
"Oh right." - Ladyhawk.
"So, you know, I'd really appreciate it if you could get me out before I suffocate guys..." - Sins.
"Oh, no injuries! They suffocated to death?" - Ladyhawk.
I give a raised eyebrow, but do not confirm.
"Well... I guess we can test it..." - Dev, laughing.
"You leave me to die in this trap and I will haunt your ass for the rest of your existence. And I'll do it in the shape of Chirya, just to piss you off." - Sins.

Concentrating on the task at hand, Maebh reaches out and grasps Kel'Serrar's shoulder. It takes a bit of mental straining, but eventually the strangling touch of the dark magic dissipates and Kel'Serrar is freed.

"Okay, that's enough for me. I shall see you all in the morning." - Kel'Serrar, brushing himself off before heading across to the Irontusk Inn.
The ranger knocks upon the door to the inn and eventually an old man in his bedclothes opens the door, a candle burning fitfully in his hand.
"What? Do you know-? It's late and- What do you want?" - Old man, having been awoken from his sleep, is not impressed with his newest customer.
"I wish for shelter this night. I can pay." - Kel'Serrar, still disguised as Dhara.
He is admitted in, the old man figuring that it is better to take the money and let the poor girl in than leave her out in the cold. Kel'Serrar is required to print his name in the ledger on the front bar and uses Dhara's name, intending to screw her over on the off chance she visits Urik's Landing in the future.

"Well, we've failed, **** it. Let's go inside." - Harold.
He leaves for the Blackmane Inn while Tremor, Maebh and Breanna have one last look around before going in. The others are largely unsuccessful, but examining the ground near to where Kel'Serrar was trapped, Tremor feels his vision go strange again.
"Oh, well in that case I'll make a Perception Check too then to look around." - Dev, rolling.
"But you're already inside!" - LD, laughing.
"You realise that what you'll turn up is something like, 'My God, the man in that painting over there has a foot' right?" - Ladyhawk.
"Stuff it, I'm still rolling." - Harold.
He discovers that the common room of the Blackmane Inn has been cleaned very recently.
"Has the floor been bleached? Cause if so, bang! There's been a murder!" - LD.
"Bleach? Here in Skyrim? I don't think so." - Ladyhawk.
"I need some bleach, some hydrogen peroxide and a ****load of lime."
The Dwergar stares at the ground beneath his feet and to his magically altered sight, the snow starts to melt away, revealing a fleshless skull, grinning up at him. His vision returns to normal and the skull is gone, replaced by the ever-present northern snow.

On his hands and knees, Tremor starts to shovel the snow away with his hands, and there, sitting on the ground before him, is the same grinning skull. It looks like it has been sitting there for several months now, and he realises that it isn't entirely fleshless, little scraps of blackened skin clinging to the blood-slicked bone.
"What have you found?" - Maebh, standing over Tremor's shoulder.
"A skull." - Tremor, gruff.

Tremor takes the skull in his hand and withdraws it, feeling slight resistance. He figures that in pulling it free, he has detached it from the rest of the corpse. The Dwergar opens the drawstring to his head-pouch, in which the severed head of Wilmund Brewer rests, and deposits the skull inside.

"Can you send the ranger a message?" - Tremor, standing and addressing Maebh.
"Yes, what do you need?" - Maebh, starting to shiver in the cold.

In his room, Kel'Serrar is warming himself by a fire and trying to get over the fear he felt while paralysed by the trap when he hears Maebh's voice on a light breeze which blows through underneath his door.
"Come back out, Tremor needs to speak with you." - Maebh whispering wind.
Kel'Serrar has no inclination to do so, but no means of responding.
"I'll deal with it in the morning." - Kel'Serrar, who settles down to sleep.

"He's not coming." - Breanna, after waiting for almost twenty minutes.
"I've got this." - Maebh, who calls up a significant amount of power. This time, she casts the same spell, but overloads it.

Kel'Serrar is awoken by a screaming wind blowing through under his door.
"I said come back out, Tremor needs to speak with you!" - Maebh, in what Ladyhawk described as a 'shouty voice.'

They wait for the ranger to emerge, but have no luck. He's not coming back out again tonight. Together, Breanna and Tremor talk Maebh down and they others traipse back to the Blackmane Inn after an unsuccessful night. All the companions avail themselves of a hot bath before bed though, the better to regain some of their lost body heat.

Back soon...

Phoenixguard09
2015-04-22, 12:52 PM
We're back! :smallbiggrin:

The companions awaken in the early morning. It is overcast and miserable, but not unbearable. Kel'Serrar has changed his appearance again, no longer Dhara but now some random he glimpsed in Summer Hill.

"Not sure what exactly our leads are..." - Ladyhawk.
"We do have two main suspects at this point." - Sins.
"Yes, the apprentice doktor, Welyn, who has been quite helpful-"
"Nice guy." - Sins, interrupting.
"Let's kill him." - LD, rubbing her hands together.
"Yes, that would be entirely within our M.O." - Dev, to laughter.
"You also have evidence which suggests that the perpetrator is magically powerful and well-educated. And there is at least one man, to your knowledge, who fits that bill."
"Hmm, the court wizard. Well, that's it. I'm going after him." - Ladyhawk.

Harold sits alone out on the porch of the Blackmane Inn, seeing to the maintenance of his armoury of weapons. He has awoken before most of the town and is enjoying the peace and quiet. Bach sits beside him, feasting on a side of mutton. It has been a few days since the marcwolves have been out, and surprisingly both Bach and Wolfgang have enjoyed their time in the snow. The most amazing thing however is just how fast the cub-pups have grown. Both are by now, around the size of a common woodwolf.

While sitting there, the Invarrian is a approached by a small man in drab grey homespun clothing.
"My lord, Book-keeper Harris has completed your request and is awaiting your presence up at Lordshall." - Servant, bowing.
"Thank you. Please inform him I will be along shortly." - Harold, standing up before leading Bach back to the stables.
So much for enjoying a rest...

Sitting at a table in the Blackmane Inn, the companions discuss their next moves. They decide to split up at this stage. Harold is to go to the theyne's archives to find out what he can about Odon. Tremor, armed with his newly-discovered skull, heads off to the doktor once more, accompanied by Kel'Serrar. Maebh meanwhile heads on up to Lordshall to confront Heimdar Iceblood, who she has decided ought to be investigated a little more closely. Breanna goes with her.

Harold:
Having already eaten breakfast, Harold leaves the Blackmane Inn before the rest of his companions and arrives up at Lordshall eager to find out what he can about the mighty Odon the Black.

Upon entering the archive, he discovers that Odon the Black was an absolute nutcase of the highest order. Harris has written down every reference to Odon he could find in print for Harold and the duellist spends a fair bit of time reading what he can and then being completely astounded.

According to the book, Odon was born over two hundred years ago. There were a few incidents in his youth, but none quite so disturbing as what he did to a poor lad named Oric, who had the misfortune of making an enemy of the black-furred Invarrian. One night, Odon crept into the house of Oric's family and killed his cat, a creature the whole family treasured. While horrible, this was hardly the end of the carnage that night, as Odon magically bound Oric's family, raised the cat and had it kill the boy in front of them. This was at seven years of age.
"Mother of God..." - Dev.
"Holy hell..." - Ladyhawk.
"This guy was really ****ing nuts guys." - Can't say I didn't warn them.

Tremor and Kel'Serrar:
The two companions walk to the doktor's for what seems like the hundredth time over the last few days. The door is opened, as always by Endric, Jurdric's son.
"Ah yes, master dwarf. And... I do not recognise your friend. Anyway, what is the matter today?" - Endric, reasonably friendly and not recognising Kel'Serrar. At this point even I have forgotten what he looks like today.
"Nothing the matter, I'd just like to speak to apprentice Welyn please." - Tremor, reasonably friendly himself.
It's still early after all.
"Ah yes, he's down the hall and to the left, seeing to the stores." - Endric, showing the two companions through.

"Ah Tremor! And... I don't know you... Anyway, what can I do for you?" - Welyn, looking up from arranging herbs for later use.
"I was wondering, were there any missing people reported before you arrived?" - Tremor.
"I have no idea. I haven't heard anything about it, no." - Welyn.
"Right. And were there any others who arrived with you when you came here?" - Tremor.
"Well no, only myself and Berrilyn made that trip and actually stayed here in town. Everyone else went south by sea or on to the capital." - Welyn.
"Hmm, well, do you know who this is?" - Tremor, pulling the head from his bag.
"By the gods, what is that?" - Welyn, horrified.
"It's a skull... Oh bugger, sorry. Wrong head. Can't believe we didn't end up being paid for this..." - Tremor, who had accidentally pulled out Wilmund Brewer's head.
You know, the BBEG from Arc 2 who was decapitated by Tremor at the end of that arc?
"Sorry, do you know who THIS is?" - Tremor, pulling out the recently discovered skull.
"You carry severed heads around!? Are you-? Never mind, let me look at it then." - Welyn, still horrified.
The apprentice takes the skull gingerly from Tremor and inspects it.

"What can you tell us?" - Kel'Serrar.
"Well , this here is a male, approximately fifty years old. Probably died around two and a half months ago, maybe longer. Reasonably well preserved. I assume you found it in a snowdrift?" - Welyn, who had begun to lose some of his professional detachment after the shock of Tremor pulling severed head out of his bag.
Tremor nods by way of response.
"Interesting." - Welyn, who has started to look at the head more like a puzzle and less like a mouldering skull.

Maebh and Breanna:
"Now Breanna, I'd prefer if this didn't turn into an all-out brawl with fire and death flying everywhere." - Maebh, quietly as they walk down the street towards Lordshall.
"So we're talking to him first then?" - Breanna, fingers tapping the hilts of her knives.
"Yes, but we'll take no chances." - Maebh.

They approach the doorward, who does not appear to be too happy to see them.
"So, what is your business here today? Are you still looking for the wizard?" - Doorward, who makes the mistake of meeting Maebh's gaze.
"These are not the droids you are looking for..." - Ladyhawk as she rolls her Hypnosis Check.
The guard's eyes lose just a little brightness and he stops his fidgeting and Maebh knows that he is hers.
"Brilliant. You are doing an excellent job at your normal duties. You will forget we were here... Back in a minute." - Maebh, beckoning a stunned Breanna to follow her into the hall.
"Whoa, that was awesome." - Breanna, under her breath and grinning at the mage.

The mess hall stretches before them, a massive oaken dining table taking pride of place right down the centre of the room. On either side of the table are rows of chairs and at either end, fire pits. Beyond the table are three stone steps leading to a slightly raised platform, upon which a large throne sits upon many animal pelts. On the wall above the throne, a huge bear's head is mounted, the head longer than Breanna is tall.

On the throne sits an absolutely massive blond-haired man, clad in rune-encrusted steel armour. At his side, resting against the arm of the throne is the largest battleaxe either Breanna or Maebh have ever seen and it glows with fell power.

"What are you doing here?" - Theyne Embermald, not unkindly.
"Hi... Do you have a moment to discuss our lord and saviour?" - LD, laughing.
"We are here to talk with your court wizard." - Maebh, taking charge.
"And my doorward just let you in?" - Embermald, troubled.
"Yes, he didn't have any problems with it at all." - Maebh, gritting her teeth.
"Well, if you have an appointment, he's through there and good luck to you." - Embermald, shrugging his massive shoulders and pointing to a doorway to his left.
"So we have your permission to go see him?" - Maebh.
"If you have an appointment, you don't need my permission. My permission would hardly make him talk to you if he doesn't want to anyway." - Embermald, growing impatient.
"So you're giving us permission?" - Maebh.
"Don't do this Ladyhawk, just go through and see the wizard if you have to." - Dev, getting worried.
"Just ****ing go in there already!" - Embermald, ticked off.
"Taking that as a yes. Let's go Bree." - Maebh, heading through the doorway to Iceblood's personal quarters.

The two girls open the carefully engraved wooden door, and take in the room. Heimdar is sitting at his desk, which is a horribly cluttered affair, marking down notes from a familiar looking book onto a fresh scroll.

Upon walking into the room, Maebh's eyes are drawn immediately to the mirror on the far wall, or more specifically, the runes adorning the frame. She instinctively knows that the runes are activated by a combination of an incantation and a blood tithe. She stores that knowledge away from Tremor.

"The hell are you doing in here?" - Heimdar, furious at being interrupted.
"I have the theyne's permission to come and see you." - Maebh, smug.
"Damn it all, I told him I don't want visitors. Can we make this quick?" - Heimdar, off-hand.
"Okay, what do you know about the murders in this town?" - Maebh, cutting to the chase.
"I know nothing about the murders in this town." - Heimdar, way too fast.
"Hmm, fine. Aren't you supposed to be translating the scrolls before the slates though?" - Maebh, playing her trump card. Turns out Tremor told her about that before they used Kel'Serrar as bait.
The wizard stops and deliberately closes the slates over, very carefully. He looks straight into the mage's eyes, and his glare softens.
"Perfect..." - Heimdar, almost imperceptibly.
Then his gaze hardens once more.
"I can promise you this, and you can tell your hairy friend this too! I shall not continue translating one more damned thing until I get his word of honour that his spies and snoops will leave me well enough alone!" - Heimdar, angrily.
"Well, we are not his spies, and so I don't really care if you uphold your bargain with him or not. What I do care about is searching your room, so you go back to work while I look through your belongings, okay?" - Maebh, arrogant.

Wordlessly, the wizard opens the slates once more and gets back to work while Maebh and Breanna start to riffle through his stuff. They determine swiftly that, although they cannot determine the purpose of much of the equipment, it must be used in his magical research. Judging by all the notes lying around, Heimdar must be an avid and dedicated, if not renowned, scholar of the magical arts.

Maebh purposely pushes a steel instrument off the edge of the desk and lets it clatter to the floor. The wizard looks up at her angrily, and Maebh pounces, holding his gaze. There is a prolonged battle of wills as the two mages mentally war against each other before Maebh can feel him slip, just slightly, under her power. She knows, however, that her hold on him is tenuous and she cannot push too hard or he will snap out of it.

"Tell me, how much do you know about the murders around the town?" - Maebh, again cutting straight to the point.
"I know nothing." - Heimdar, straining under the pressure.
"He knows everything." - Breanna, to Maebh.
"I know nothing. I do my work in here, I spend as little time amongst the peasants out there as possible and then I come back in here to continue my work and further my studies." - Heimdar, straining.
"Do you own any coins from the Brilliant Towers?" - Maebh, probing further.
"Of course I do, I was trained there." - Heimdar.
"Would anyone else in this town have coins from the Towers?" - Maebh.
"How the ruddy hell would I know? I don't go looking in other peoples' purses!" - Heimdar, angrily.
Maebh can feel her control slipping. She doesn't have him for long.
"Would anyone other than yourself have access to your quarters?" - Maebh.
"Not without my permission!" - Heimdar, roaring angrily.
He storms to his feet.
"You come into my living quarters uninvited and unannounced! I have answered your questions, though you have shown me nothing but rudeness and hurled accusations! Leave now!" - Heimdar, furious.
"I have my suspicions. I want to find out who's killing these poor girls and at the moment, you're the prime suspect!" - Maebh, refusing to back down.

She and Breanna are both taken by surprise therefore when strands of cold, ice-blue magic erupt from Heimdar's hands and wrap around the two of them. Both Breanna and Maebh strain against the magic and are able to break free, but it costs them valuable time.

Unfortunately, Heimdar is now between both of them and the door to get out.
"Between you and the possum you wish to throw at him?" - Sins, a callback.

Trapped by the wizard and with no time to consider and fancy combat manoeuvres or casting, the girls respond to the magical assault in the only way they really can.

Breanna goes for the knees and Maebh the head as they tackle the stooped old man to the ground, slamming him painfully into the stone flags on the floor.

He is badly hurt, but not so much that he isn't able to take his own vengeance. There is a deafening burst of magic as Breanna and Maebh are essentially thrown off him with enough force to send them flying into the ceiling. Both of them come back down onto the stone floor hard, badly bruised. Their flesh where they made contact with wizard is badly burnt, blackened as if by ice and Breanna is bleeding from a cut to the back of her head where she cracked it against the wooden ceiling. Maebh on the other hand can feel a sharp pain in her back and has a cracked rib.

Painfully, Heimdar picks himself up off the floor as Breanna and Maebh struggle to breath. The wizard ignores them both and walks to his mirror where he mutters some incomprehensible words and then cuts his hand on the edge of the frame, smearing his blood on the runes. He disappears.

"You guys all hear the explosion when Heimdar blows them into the ceiling. What are you going to do?"
"It's an obvious distraction. Obviously, we need to head towards the obvious distraction." - Sins.
"Yeah run towards it." - Dev.

It isn't long before Harold arrives at the door and helps the injured girls to their feet.
"What the hell happened?" - Harold.
"Tackled... Explosive..." - Breanna, straining. Maebh's still not in much shape to talk.
"Right... Where's the explosive?" - Harold, looking around frantically.
"In... Mirror..." - Breanna, heaving in air.
Harold stalks over to the mirror. He can see the smear of blood on the runes and smell the brimstone in the air.
"This is going to hurt like buggery isn't it?" - Harold, to himself before slashing his hand on the mirror's frame and smearing the runes.
There was a collective intake of breath before:
"We can't let him do this alone. I'm going in too." - Ladyhawk.

Kel'Serrar and Tremor:
Hearing the explosion, the two companions hurtle out of the doktor's with no explanation. Intrigued, Welyn tags along too, but is outstripped by even Tremor, who can actually maintain a fair pace if he tries.

They pass the doorward on their way in to hall, who half-heartedly attempts to stop them, but they have already stormed into the messhall before he finishes his challenge. The theyne simply looks up from the scroll he is reading and points towards the court wizard's quarters.
"That way." - Embermald, pointing.
"I love this guy! That's how you run a town! When crazed citizens rush in and interrupt your reading, just direct them to the nearest explosion and set them loose. This guy is brilliant!" - Sins, who summed up the party's impression of the theyne pretty well.
The engineer and the ranger arrive just in time to see Maebh walk up to the mirror and smear a bloodied hand on the runes. Kel'Serrar and Breanna grimly nod and follow.

Tremor on the other hand starts to gather up his scrolls and the slates. After all, looks like Heimdar won't be doing those translations for him, might as well keep them safe.

* * *

On the other side of the mirror, the sight that greets the companions is seriously nightmarish.

Dark purple and grey clouds drift across a bruised dark red sky. The companions are standing on a floating chunk of rock which appears to have been hewn out of the earth and propelled into the air. Before them on the rock is a wondrously crafted table, glowing with magic and beautifully carved from some unknown material. It is so beautiful that the very thought of harming it is anathema to them.
"I love the fact that you actually prepared for us to go through the mirror." - Ladyhawk, laughing.
"We actually did something we were supposed to!" - Dev.
Cheers all round.
Upon the table lies a woman, or rather the remains of several women which have been patched together to form a work of art, albeit macabre. She is complete, save for her empty eye-sockets.

Behind the companions, the mirror floats, offering them a glimpse back to the material world, where Tremor is busy sorting through what he can keep of Heimdar's belongings.
"Stuff that, I'm not going in there. What can I loot?" - Wings, when confronted with being a hero or a murder-hobo.
Surrounding the floating chunk of rock is a blazing golden net, flaming with magical energy and anchored to the rock by fist-sized golden gems embedded in the stone floor. The net protects those on the floating rock from the spirit predators which are everywhere, writhing on the 'ground' below and soaring sightlessly through the 'skies.' Down below resembles almost a pit of slimy, black snakes, constantly devouring each other. Above, massive floating eel things, again, eat everything they can see.
"Were you high when you wrote this?" - LD.
"See, this is what happens when we follow the plot, we make our way to hell." - Sins.
They made Willpower Checks here to try and avoid being driven insane by seeing stuff that mortal beings should really never see. I won't tell you who passed and who failed.

At the table, stooped over it and looking proudly at his disturbing creation, is Heimdar Iceblood.
"She's almost finished. She just needs your eyes." - Heimdar, looking up to Maebh.
"My eyes? Good luck." - Maebh, calling up her magic.
This is the point I asked for initiative. Not wanting Wings to feel left out, I organised a surprise for him while sifting through Heimdar's drawers.
"You roll too Wings. Tremor is attacked by a vicious turnip."

Tremor opens a drawer to continue searching for things to steal and out jumps a turnip with little arms and legs which has been animated and powered by dark magic.
The turnip got a surprise round, jumping up into Tremor's face.

Back to the real fight at hand and Maebh realises that her power feels different here and immediately decides not to risk corrupting her spirit with the foul energies in the 'air.' She takes her spear, which is not the physical object but more a manifestation of her will to cause destruction, and hurls it at the wizard. As it leaves her hand, it morphs into a bolt of golden light and is absorbed into his essence. Heimdar clutches his chest where the light struck him and staggers. He appears somewhat diminished by the strike, but he is cornered and so close to his goal. He will not give up now.

Screaming maniacally, streams of ice-blue chain lightning surge from his hands, streaking towards Maebh but just as they get close to her, they deviate and crash into the golden net. Immediately, spirits burst through and start to overrun the rock. One makes a beeline directly for the corpse lying on the table. It forces its way down her throat and the corpse shudders with life and sits. She looks around, staring with sightless eyes.
"No! She's not ready yet!" - Heimdar, hands crackling with magic.
The corpse starts to laugh wildly, a strange sound which sounds like it comes from several throats at once and then launches herself off the table and onto the wizard.
"Oh..."
"Oh, that's two 0's..." - Ladyhawk.
"And an 8..."
"Wow, so he's..." - Dev.
"Yep, he got seriously ****ed over."
He gives a single scream before the possessed corpse tears his spirit apart and devours him, all the while cackling daemonically.

Now the party are in a seriously bad situation because the aethyric leviathans, the massive eel-like creatures floating through the skies, are big enough that they could potentially take the whole rock in one go. And the party really does not want to be devoured by leviathans at all, let alone in the spirit world.
"Run!" - Harold, drawing a blazing sword and starting to hack at the daemons that are already between the party and the mirror.

But the real combat, the one everyone wants to read about is Tremor versus the Vicious Turnip. It starts out pluckily, landing two solid hits on the Dwergar before he has time to react. It doesn't take Tremor long however to retaliate, and he does so in brutal fashion, taking the marauding vegetable and snapping it in half. As he does so, reddish-green vapours are released and the turnip falls limp and inanimate. Tremor throws the two halves back in the drawer with disgust, and not a small amount of confusion.

A moment after the turnip was vanquished , the four other companions come streaming out of the mirror, looking haggard and worn. Just as Kel'Serrar staggers out, a pale, bloodied hand reaches through and grabs him by the shoulder. Seeing his friend in danger, Harold turns immediately and slashes the arm at the elbow, severing it at the joint and leaving the appendage twitching on the floor. Sickened, Kel'Serrar draws his sword and smashes the mirror, shattering it completely and trapping the spirits in their own world.

And the murder mysteries were solved. Level ups all round!
"I can't believe it... We finished a quest." - Wings, amazed.
"We finished a quest with minimal casualties..." - LD, awestruck.
"Hang on a minute, we finished a quest without killing the bad guy!" - Ladyhawk.
"Wait, we didn't kill anyone!" - Dev, disappointed.
"We need to fix this." - Sins, quietly.
"You did kill a ghul-ish turnip."

The most important thing that happened here is that Tremor's most recent arc finally came to fruition. He is now an Engineer 7 / Necromancer 1. This ought to be interesting.

I tell everyone that they now have approximately an hour real-time to finish the monster hunt.
"Let's do this." - Dev.

The companions take a moment to revel in just being alive and actually in their own flesh before heading out, taking a moment to laugh at Tremor's turnip nemesis.

Out in the messhall, a small crowd, which had gathered and were waiting patiently for an audience with the theyne is now standing ready to intercept the companions. A few have weapons drawn. The theyne himself however waves them down.

"You killed him then?" - Embermald, still sitting in his throne.
"We didn't actually." - Harold, surprised at himself.
"Not through lack of trying." - Breanna, under her breath. She's still not quite over cracking her head on the ceiling and is feeling kind of faint.
"Your wizard was compiling a collection of body parts from all those dead girls to create some kind of creature. He was doing all this in the Otherworld, which he accessed through an inscribed mirror. We smashed it after his creature killed him." - Maebh, summarising the horrifying experience.
The theyne nods.
"I have no idea if you are telling the truth, but I don't know what kind of person it would take to make something like that up." - Embermald, frowning.
Awakward silence and pointed looks at me after this line.
"But, the fact is, I didn't like the bastard anyway, and you've gotten rid of him for me. So... Take this heirloom. I believe it will help you. " - Embermald, pulling a short bronze chain out of a recess in his leather vambrace and offering it to Maebh.
The Danann receives it reverently, noticing the ancient marking carved into the metal. She can tell immediately that the magic suffusing it has made the bronze harder than steel, but it harbours more powers than merely that.

The reward for Ladyhawk completing her homework first, a reasonably minor magical item. The chain allows the wearer to ignore the first Miscast they suffer each session. The spell is considered to have failed, but no Miscast effects are applied.

As an aside, Ladyhawk asked how her mantikor egg was going.
"You're not entirely sure, but it has certainly taken a beating, what with being on your back when you were flung into the ceiling and then with you on your little reality-hopping expedition."
"Will it be a stunted, yet radioactive mantikor when it hatches?" - LD.

* * *

So now they focus on the beast terrorising the hamlets. Farmers from the surrounding countryside have been coming to Lordshall for several months now, bearing tales of a creature in the marshes which has been preying upon their livestock. No one has ever seen the creature and been able to tell the tale, despite patrols of guards being sent out to hunt it down.

A few nights ago, a girl was taken by the creature and her father mauled. The man was left in a very poor condition and has not moved since the attack. His heart beats and takes the very lightest of breaths, but other than that he may as well be dead. If he does awaken however, he may be able to illuminate the companions on the beast.

And so the party venture out the northgate, taking Bach and Wolfgang with them, but leaving the horses behind.

The road winds its way north, picking a safe, if circuitous route through the swamp. Signposts every half-mile give directions to the few outlying farms and hamlets, and the companions do find themselves at the Bales hamlet.

Trying to eke out a living in the marshes is not easy, and raging death-monsters make thing infinitely harder. The wife of the man who was attacked follows behind a broad-shouldered horse, which Breanna eyes warily as it pulls a rusted iron plough through the icy field. The woman looks up fearfully at the approaching companions, but Harold quickly assuages her fears and asks to see her husband, promising to do their best to help him. Wordlessly, she leads them inside the meagre home and they see a well-built man lying on his back, still as a rock on the hard bed. A thick woollen blanket is wrapped around to keep him warm, and it appears to be doing its job as he is quite warm to the touch, however his breathing and heartbeat are almost imperceptible.

To Kel'Serrar's keen eyes, it is apparent that the man has been badly mauled by a very large predator, but he has been seen to very well, presumably by one of the doktors in town.
"He's definitely getting weaker the longer he stays like this. Can you see any signs of Black Magic?" - Kel'Serrar, quietly to Breanna.
Despite her keenest observation, Breanna sees no evidence of any Black Magic around the man, which confuses her.
"No, nothing." - Breanna, responding in kind.
They stand around the poor man, debating what they can do under their breath, all the while his wife stares at them wide-eyed, internally screaming at their incompetence.
"Ah, stuff this." - Kel'Serrar, taking his satchel of healing herbs and getting to work.

It takes him almost an hour to re-clean and re-bandage the wounds, but Kel'Serrar does all he can to improve the state of the injuries. Something about the man's state however gives him a clue that this is not just the result of a simple crack on the head, or even shock. There is something else at play here.

He is reminded of a spider, native to the coldest and most northern climes of Unterguardt, the Undmoric spider, a small predator with venom capable of paralysing it's prey. The spider itself is not big enough to cause the effect on anything bigger than a rat, but the effect is somewhat similar to what has happened here.
"Is Unterguardt basically Australia?" - LD.
"It's kind of Russia with Australia's deadly animals." - Dev.
One thing is certain though. The mauling this man has suffered was not inflicted by a spider. The lacerations would be fitting with the bite of a large, mammalian carnivore. One larger than a marcwolf.

"Tell me what you know of this creature." - Maebh, turning to the man's wife.
"I've not seen it. I don't think anyone has actually seen it. Some men from the neighbouring farms brought him in. We heard noises from the cattle and he went to have a look and scare off whatever was out there scaring them. When we heard his scream, I couldn't stop our daughter from going out there to help him." - The distraught wife, who then bursts into tears, unable to continue speaking.
"Can you show us these cattle?" - Harold.
"None left. I can show you out to where we used to keep them." - Farmer's wife, shrugging disconsolately.

She shows them to a small paddock, now slightly overgrown. The paddock is surrounded by a low, basic wooden fence, one section of it completely busted apart by a large animal forcing its way in, a creature roughly the size of a large bear.

The cold ground is all torn up by the panicked cattle and pools of frozen blood are scattered across the grass. The woman tells them that some of the cattle escaped, but many were killed or left too badly injured to continue living. The dead were burned as the wounds smelled foul. Of the daughter, no trace was found.

Breanna and Harold give the woman some money to purchase more cattle, or perhaps find a new home in the Landing which might provide an easier life. She offers her heartfelt thanks to the companions, and returns to her house, leaving the party out in the cold paddock to search for clues.

As far as traces go, there are piles of leavings all around the paddock, but as far as the party can tell, it's all from the cattle. On the other hand, large clawed tracks lead to the north, and they decide to follow them.
"The game is on!" - LD.

While following the tracks, there is a lengthy discussion about how to approach this beast. All of the accounts they have heard have painted the creature as a nocturnal predator, and as it is already late in the afternoon, it won't be long until it comes back out to play. After reassuring themselves that the tracks led deep into the swamp, they doubled back to find the nearest hamlet with surviving livestock.

The hamlet they find appears deserted, save for the small flock of twelve Unterguardt caorigh (http://cache.desktopnexus.com/thumbseg/719/719599-bigthumbnail.jpg) in a pen, happily grazing. The gate is open, and so a few have wandered free of their confines, but all are reasonably close together. Safety in numbers, after all. They look up at the approaching companions, and a few bleat in greeting before getting back to their grazing.

Not far from the pen sits a small abandoned house, very similar to the hamlet of the Bales family. Beside it is an outcrop of dark rock, which juts into the sky. The companions approach the dwelling, thinking to commandeer it for the night to watch over the flock of caorigh in order to surprise the beast when it arrives, but as Kel'Serrar opens the door a group of five men come out from behind the rocky outcrop.

"What are you doing there?" - Leader of the band, a young and tall Northmann with long dark hair and clad in brown leather.
"We were going to wait until the beast comes out." - Harold.
"And then kill it." - Tremor.
"Well then friends, feel free to join us. We have much the same plan." - Leader of the band, who goes around to the companions and introduces himself as Eyric.

The band of hunters are five strong and hardy men, clad in much the same manner as Eyric and armed with a mix of bows and spears. They're just young men trying to do right by their families and gain just a little measure of vengeance for what happened to the Bales'. They're brave, and have more balls than sense really, but they are at least willing to stand against the beast in the darkness.

The party get to know the hunters a little bit, but as night falls both groups become a little more apprehensive. Breanna and Kel'Serrar clamber up to the roof of the hamlet, Kel'Serrar with his bow and Breanna with her trusty crossbow. Beside them stand two of the hunters, armed with their own selfbows. They really aren't powerful enough to take down anything larger than a caorigh, but it's still something.

The rest of the group huddle around the rocky outcrop or lie in wait inside the hamlet itself, watching out cautiously over the flock. And then, on the cold wind from the north, a horrific stench of rotten flesh. This thing smells like it is sick. Like a creature that should not exist, so that the very air around it rebels against its nature.
"Ready yourselves. It's here." - Harold, to those around him in the hamlet.
As it draws closer, lured in by the caorigh, the odour becomes almost unbearable, especially to the exceptionally keen senses of Harold and the Danann.
"We have dealt with corpsewalkers which smelt better than this." - Harold, under his breath while simultaneously trying to hold it.


The caorish in the pen have ceased grazing and are now huddled together in the southern-most corner of the pen. They are completely silent, and even in the poor twilight visibility, they are obviously shaking with terror.

A faint distortion ripples through the air, noticed only by Kel'Serrar and Breanna from their high vantage point, before there is a sharp bleat and one of the caorigh is bodily hurled through the air.
"Shoot there!" - Harold, pointing at where the caorigh was just a split second before.
A volley of two arrows and one bolt flash down into the paddock and there is a deep-throated yelp of pain. Kel'Serrar did not shoot however, instead concentrating on conjuring up some kind of magical light to provide some illumination to shoot by. A soft grey light suffuses the area, but it doesn't reveal the creature.

Maebh, looking out the window of the hamlet, spear in hand, calls up the power to see through magical illusions, but even her magically aided sight does not reveal the creature, revealing the effect is not magical in nature.

After the yelp, there is the sound of a large creature moving very swiftly away from the sight of the ambush.

"We've never even hit the thing before, let alone driven it off! Let's get it lads!" - Eyric, taking up his spear and leaping out into the night.
As one, the hunters follow, leaving the companions behind.
"Ah ****, we can't let them go off on their own. Come." - Harold, drawing his masterwork blade.
The companions head off too.

"Don't become separated! Stay together!" - Harold, calling out to the hunters.
They follow the Invarrian's command and the five hunters come together on a patch of dry ground.
"I can't see the trail..." - One of the hunters, knelt on the ground looking for signs of passage.
Only a few paces ahead, it is thanks to Kel'Serrar's starlight casting that the companions see that same curious distortion ripple through the air and careen straight through the party of hunters ahead.

Men are thrown bodily into the air. One is snapped practically in half by the massive jaws, the upper piece taken by the beast as it disappears with a splash into the marsh.

Of the five, only two are still living. One casualty has a heavy laceration to the right leg and what appears to be a broken neck. The last has a severely broken back, practically bent back on himself. Of the two survivors, neither are in a good way, but one of them is worse than the other, with bone jutting from his broken shin.

Harold takes a sniff, but as far as he can tell, the creature is not in the immediate area and so the companions do their best to help the two injured men. Eyric is the man with a broken leg, and he is swiftly going into shock. Harold and the other surviving hunter help each other to support Eyric back to the hamlet.

The others get ready to follow the tracks further, hoping to find the lair.

Meanwhile, back at the hamlet, Harold sets the injured Eyric down. The duellist takes the more or less uninjured one aside.
"Your name lad?" - Harold.
"Edvind. Did you see that thing?" - Edvind, terrified. He was the youngest of the hunters, and is only around fourteen. It wasn't noticeable earlier because, as a Northmann, he was over 6' tall.
"No I didn't, but I saw what it did. We need you to be strong Edvind. Eyric here is..." - Harold, not sure how to put it tactfully.
"Can you watch over him Edvind? Can you do that?" - Harold, imparting some responsibility on the lad.
"Yes, I will." - Edvind, swallowing hard.
"Good lad." - Harold, who turns and leaves without another word.
"He left us..." - Edvind, losing all hope.

Ignoring the carnage around him, Kel'Serrar slips into a trance and lets his senses wander, the better to see just what is in the immediate vicinity.
Another usage of Woodland Senses from Kel'Serrar here.
To his heightened senses, the life in the area at first glance is quite scarce. At first, he recognises the flock of caorigh behind him, still huddled, terrified, in the pen. And then, his companions and what is left of the rapidly freezing corpses of the erstwhile hunters. One of them, the one with the broken neck and lacerated leg, is actually still alive, but barely, and is pumping out arterial blood at such a rate that he will be dead in a few moments.

And then he senses a large, carnivorous beast. It is out there, but he can't pin down where it is. What he can tell is that the creature is not a magical beast, but not a wholly natural one either. It doesn't possess any magical abilities so to speak, but something about it feels wrong. In form, it is a long, low-slung creature, built like a wolf, but far more massive.

Kel'Serrar awakens with a start.
"It's coming back! It's coming back!" - Kel'Serrar, frantic.
He takes an arrow from his quiver and imbues it with energy, ensuring it will fly true.

Hearing the ranger's shout, Harold snatches up a discarded spear from the ground and hurries to the others. There they stand, backs to each other, staring out into the darkness.

Kel'Serrar's arrow gleams with silvery light as he bends it to the bow. Drawing back, the ranger sights along the length, eyes scanning the darkness for that telltale distortion in the soft grey light coming from overhead.

There it is, and he lets fly.

29 Damage rolled on the Patriot Arrow to the face of the beast, making it just about the highest Damage single strike we've seen yet to my memory.

There is a pained roar, and the beast, which was oh so close, withdraws once more, this time in agony.

"Good shot." - Maebh, unable to contain her relief.
"But it's not dead. Let's see if this is going to work..." - Tremor, who bends down next to the man with a broken neck.

The dwarf grimaces in agony and closes his eyes, drawing something up within him before forcing it to obey his will and take up residence in the fresh corpse. With a groan, Tremor's bloodshot eyes snap open and a flicker of green lightning dances across those inky-black orbs. And then the corpse beside him moves too. It staggers to its feet, head flopping grotesquely. Its eyes flash open and a sickly green glow emanates from within. It turns to look at the party and its mouth hangs open, distending oddly and revealing that same green glow within.

Tremor looks disturbed, but oddly pleased with himself. The rest of the party, even Breanna, are disgusted. The Dwergar directs the monstrosity north, following in its path. It has flopped its head back over its shoulder to stare creepily at its master, grinning in that weirdly distended manner.

Tremor knows the daemon he has forcibly bound hates him, and wishes to eat him, but it is incapable of doing so as it is under the dwarf's power. For now.

All it can do is carry out its orders and cause those who it feels has trapped it as much discomfort as it possibly can.

Kel'Serrar and Harold meanwhile go back to the hamlet, Kel'Serrar to set Eyric's leg and try to see to improving his condition and Harold to guard the hamlet in case something comes back to prey on its wounded occupants. Kel'Serrar is successful in splinting Eyric's leg and bringing him out of shock. The danger has passed, for now at least, thanks to Kel'Serrar's quick thinking.

The same cannot be said for the other three companions, who continue to follow Tremor's newest creation. It looks back hungrily at Maebh and Breanna, but it holds only hatred for Tremor, and its baleful glare is directed at him most of all.

As to the trail they follow, even Tremor, who is no great shake at tracking can follow these signs, as the beast is clearly in no small amount of agony and does not care for leaving no traces now. All it wants to do is get back to its lair and get the arrow out of its eye.

Before the three companions and their shambling monstrosity is a massive flat boulder, approximately the size of a house, fifteen yards before which the tracks appear to cease. Closer inspection reveals that the beast looks like it has gone through the rock.

Tremor sends his corpse to check if it is an illusion or something similar and the shambling thing walks straight into the rock an bounces off. It places a cold hand on the stone and pushes, but nothing happens, all the while looking creepily back at the one who has presumed to bind it to his will. The rock is real.

Getting very close to the rock, Breanna notices that there is a crevice at the base of the boulder that one could potentially slip through.
"I'm going to go through." - Breanna, who prepares to slip through.
It is far easier to do than she suspected, and she expects that it was in fact an optical illusion that the crevice appeared so small due to the boulder being so large.

She rolls through the crevice and rides the small drop to the cavern floor. The first thing she notices is that the cavern walls appear to have been excavated by magic as they are perfectly smooth with no noticeable toolmarks. At the far end of the cavern, huge, rusted iron bars. On the other side of the bars, a lit fireplace and a desk.

And then, on her own side of the bars, in the dim light given off by the glow of the fire, she sees a distortion in the air before her. And then the low, menacing growl.
"Maebh! Help!" - Breanna, scrambling backwards.
Panicking, the Leathe quickly calls up a daemon as quickly as she can as the beast stalks towards her. She shrouds herself in the shadows, revelling in the relative safety.

And then she sees the glowing red eyes, following her every movement.

It can still see her...

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up:
Well that was an excellent session really. It ended on a huge cliff-hanger, and it should be excellent to see how that is resolved this Saturday.

This has been our longest write-up by far to date, almost twice as long as our previous ones, which I think is just because I'm getting wordier. Ah well, more for you guys to read I guess. You'll just have to live with how long it takes me to write them.

As always, please comment if you enjoyed or have any questions. We do love seeing that our stuff is appreciated.

Take care,

Phoenixguard09
2015-06-29, 01:12 AM
I'm sure this post will upset a few people because it is not an update, but I promise you that it is good news.

First of all, I have one write-up almost complete. A little over half an hour left to write.

The second piece of good news is that we finished our hiatus. :D That was a short one for us, only two months this time, but yesterday we played an absolutely mammoth session, with seven hours of recording, with a new player joining us.

So that's something else to look forward to.

The plus side is that we have probably played more sessions so far this year than we did for last year combined, so that's nice.

Back soon hopefully with Session 4.3: Ambushes and Treachery...

Coming soon:

Silence...
"He was legal age!" - Wings.
"So essentially you're saying that there's a legal age for being risen from the dead?" - Dev.
"Yeah. Any younger than 18 and it would be, 'morally wrong.'" - Wings, replete with inverted-comma finger motions.

and

“That’s why you have armoured eyelids like an ankylosaurus, bitch.”

Phoenixguard09
2015-06-29, 11:29 AM
Session 4.3: Ambushes and Treachery

"Of the seven voyages of Brin Greenfield, it is naturally his last that we know the least about. He took the Northrunner and sailed into the mists of legend, leaving behind only his daughter. West he travelled, or at least so say most story-tellers, but I believe he went north, to where the mountains grow taller than the Wardenfells and the forests grow thicker than the Gwyrai..."

- Sage Deblin Briarsparrow, the story-teller of Greenstone.

Welcome to Session 4.3 guys.

“You lost the game.” – LD.

I began by prefacing the session by letting them know that the Beast in the Darkness is inherently an unfair opponent and the intention is that they will not take it on by themselves.
“Challenge accepted.” – Sins.

Breanna, down in the cavern, is frozen with fear for a split second as the shadowy shape stalks towards her, eyes glowing in the darkness. With a snarl, it lunges forward at the Leathe, who snaps out of her paralysis at the last second and rolls to the side, away from the attack.

Then Wings asked a question…
“Does it have nuts, and can she cut them off?” – Wings, bloodthirsty.
“What?” – Ladyhawk, stunned.
“Well she is in, underneath the beast. Sooo…” – Wings, letting it hang.
“You are a disgusting person.” – Dev, laughing.
“That’s it, I’m out.” – Sins.
“You are not in a position to do that, you rolled to the side..” – To LD.
“Only because you don’t want her to do that.” – Dev.
“No, because in my mind, she didn’t roll in underneath its ball-sack.”
“I… am right beneath the enemy scrotum.” – Dev, channelling John Turturro.
“Can we please burn the FATAL rulebook now guys?” – Sins.
“Stab out eyes now. Just stab out all the eyes.”

“Okay, my turn. Now for the Agility Check to get out of here safely.” – LD, preparing to roll.
“Yep. A nice low roll so you don’t get caught in your haste. Because if you get caught, you probably get a leg mauled.”
LD smashes her forehead down onto the table after the roll.
“What did you get?” – Ladyhawk, concerned.
“98!” – LD, distressed.
LD uses her free re-roll from last month’s homework.
“19. Thank God.” – LD.

Breanna scrambles out from underneath the massive boulder, the beast clawing at the empty air she just vacated. None of her companions can see her come out, but Tremor’s floppy-headed thrall looks back over its shoulder at her, eyes glowing with daemonic light.

Behind her, the beast attempts to get out of the cavern. If it were calmer, it would be simply squeezing its way through the gap, but in its rabid desire to get at Breanna, it is clawing and pounding at the boulder. The companions can hear this, and discuss the options swiftly, deciding to go with a full-on attack.

Maebh’s eyes close and she starts to chant softly under her breath. The sky above grows even darker as storm clouds swiftly gather overhead. Scrabbling at the earth and rock, the beast gets its forequarters free, but its hind legs are still caught under the boulder.

Tremor meanwhile takes out the last vial of ‘boom-sauce’ from his pack and throws the mixture at the entrance to the cavern, hoping to blast the earth out from under the boulder. The flames do not catch on the beast, although it does seem to be pained by the fire. In addition to this though, the earth is blasted away and the boulder starts to shift, slowly falling down onto the beast. Growling, the Dwergar takes out his hatchet.
“Die!” – Tremor, hurling his hatchet at the beast’s head.
He misses, and the axe clangs against the boulder and falls to the muddy ground.
"Bugger." - Tremor, cursing his luck.

Breanna meanwhile just legs it, hoping to get back to Kel’Serrar and Harold, where it might be a bit safer inside the walls of the abandoned hamlet.
“Has the Shadowskin gone away?” – LD.
“No, still active.”
“Right, can I scare him somehow?” – LD.
“Keep in mind that last time you tried to do that you were nearly decapitated with a torch.”

A single golden bolt of lightning streaks from the sky, and Maebh directs it into the boulder. The rock cracks under the force of the strike, but does not shatter, and is pressed down further onto the beast’s hindquarters. Roaring with agony, the creature hauls itself out of the cavern by its forepaws.

In its anger, the beast has slipped its camouflage and the companions finally get a good look at it. It is low-slung, like a wolf, but much larger than even a marcwolf and covered in spines and thick, bony scutes. The beast’s head is long and low-slung, heavily armoured and elongated with large fangs.
I show the head of a leopard seal, and describe the beast’s head as a larger, heavily armoured version of the same. We then spend a few minutes looking at pictures of one of the most brutal creatures on the planet. Leopard seals are seriously terrifying.

Wings asks if it is possible to take his zombie out of action and dismantle it, then reanimate it in parts and use those pieces as improvised throwing weapons in order to bring the beast down from the inside.

There is a moment of stunned silence.
"That's a horrible idea. So horrible, it might just be brilliant. Can we do that?" - Dev.
"You need to have line of sight to whatever you are reanimating. So those pieces must be reanimated before they are eaten. Other than that, go for it." - My response.
"This is an awful plan." - Ladyhawk, despondent.
"We could really use a turnip at this stage." - Sins, in a call-back.

Tremor withdraws the energies from the corpse, setting the daemon loose into the Otherworld again. He then takes the loosely attached head from the corpse, wrenches it free and hurls it at the beast, though again his eye lets him down and the skull cracks against the boulder and is immediately snapped up by the beast.

Harold, Breanna and Kel'Serrar:
From where they are at the hamlet, guarding the two wounded hunters, both the duellist and ranger hear the massive crack of lightning as Maebh brings her power to bear on the boulder. Immediately, Harold takes up a second borrowed spear and sets off into the marshes once more, hoping that he will find more than a mere smoking crater.

As he runs, he realises that his hands are no longer covered in fine black and white fur, but instead are a leathery flesh colour. He is bemused by this, but resolves to think about it later.

He passes Breanna on the way, though he does not notice as the Leathe'sShadowskin is still up. For the assassin, all she cares about is putting as much distance as possible between her hide and those wicked claws...

Maebh and Tremor:
Maebh draws upon just a little too much of her inner flame in preparing her next casting.
There is a lot of tension here as Maebh is hit with some arcane backlash, drawing upon a little too much power and rolling a double in her casting roll.

Now she made the total, and it wasn't a double 1, so the spell still goes off, but because she rolled a double, she needs to take a Toughness Check to determine whether she sustains any serious side-effects.

Ladyhawk fails her Toughness Check, though not by too much. She then rolls a D100 on one of the Arcane Backlash Charts. And the tension is ramped up further by me having to look through files to find the chart.
"I'm going to die aren't I?" - Ladyhawk, after two minutes of searching.
"No... Your hair stands on end. For-*rolls* twenty seconds."
The relief is palpable.

The storms clouds start to gather overhead once more, Maebh's hair stirring in an unnatural wind.

And then things start to go poorly.

With a great roar, the beast frees itself from under the boulder and springs at Tremor, who only just manages to dodge aside.

Harold, coming upon the carnage can see the beast snapping at his companions and takes matters into his own hands. Hefting one of the spears, he casts it at the beast as he runs. The heavy blade pierces the bony scutes on the beast's shoulder, but causes little damage.

Tremor takes out his greatsword and attempts to flank the beast, but it turns like quicksilver and all of a sudden he is met by its snarling maw. The dwarf turns his momentum into a backwards step, away from those vicious jaws.

The distraction however gives Maebh the time she needs to finish calling her lightning down. Again, the golden bolts streak down from the sky, but at the last moment the creature springs to the side and is only caught a glancing blow. It recovers and strikes out at Tremor, who agilely dodges aside from the first, but is then taken by a raking claw across the chest. It throws the Dwergar back, which may well have saved his life as it meant he was just out of reach of the slavering jaws as they closed where his leg had been only a split second before. A good thing too, as Tremor notes the viscous liquid dripping from the creature's fangs.
"Ewww." - Ladyhawk.

Seeing the dwarf on the ground, Harold picks up speed, streaking across the marshy ground and driving his second spear deep into the creature's side. It turns to face its new attacker, the motion of which snaps the spear-haft, leaving Harold holding a worthless length of wood in his hands.

There's a short tangent here where the respective ages of their hunting partners is discussed. All of them were quite young, the youngest of which is the only one still conscious and alive, at fourteen.
"How old was the one Tremor raised?" - Dev.
"Uh, around 18..."
Silence...
"He was legal age!" - Wings.
"So essentially you're saying that there's a legal age for being risen from the dead?" - Dev.
"Yeah. Any younger than 18 and it would be, 'morally wrong.'" - Wings, replete with inverted-comma finger motions.

The conversation turned back to the combat at hand, but only for a moment.
"I'm going to roll around behind it and Withering Touch it." - Wings.
"You're going to what?" - Dev, unimpressed.
"I'm going to make it easier for you to kill by touching it." - Wings.
"Show me on this anatomically correct doll where the fat man touched you." - Sins.
"Arrrrooo... Arrroooo..." - Ladyhawk, making pitiful dog noises.

Tremor tries to take the opportunity to roll back into the fray, but once again the beast reacts, seemingly before the dwarf has even made up his mind and again it is snarling at him. He disengages and stalks around the fight, looking to pick up his hatchet from where it lies after he hurled it earlier.

And then Maebh unleashes her power once more, a devastating gale tears across the marshland, knocking the creature off its feet and blowing it twenty yards across the ground. It tries to rise from the ground, shaking its head groggily, but can do no more as Harold and Tremor stalk towards it.

It is, after all, not exactly used to dealing with prey which fights back.

Advancing on it, Harold takes a hold of the spear he threw at it earlier and tries to drive it in deeper, but is unsuccessful, the creature's bony armour still too thick to deal with.

Tremor strides up too, mentally draining a daemon dry, and then lays both hands on the beast's flank, the flesh beneath his touch decaying before him. He then strides up to the beast’s side, takes up his greatsword and cleaves it into the beast's neck. The creature gives a strangled yelp, but it is still not dead.

Maebh throws a fireball at the beast's side, the concussive force caving in a few ribs and bringing it out of its daze as the flames lick at its hide. Snarling in rage, it flings a claw out and snaps at Harold, who skilfully manages to avoid the attacks. It then turns to the other side, another claw shooting out to strike at Tremor who is taken unaware and sent flying once more.

Again Harold struggles to drive the spear further into the beast, but thankfully he isn't alone as Tremor picks himself up and strides purposefully towards the creature's flank. The dwarf draws upon what is left of the energies he drained before and lays his hands upon the creature once more, causing another patch of flesh to wither away before his eyes. He goes to strike once more with his blade, but at the last moment he realises that he has underestimated his opponent and the creature turns its glowing eyes towards him once more. It springs, and Tremor sacrifices his chance to hit it to roll away yet again. Again, the creature's jaws snap shut where the dwarf was just moments before, and again Tremor takes note of the viscous liquid dripping from its jaws.
"And again, I remind myself, I do not want to be bitten by this thing." - Wings.
"No you really don't, trust me."
"Actually, this might just be me, but I'm not really a fan of being bitten in general. By anything." - LD, making a very good point.

Now lying on its side, the beast's relatively unarmoured underbelly presents a tempting target for Maebh, who takes up her spear and hurls it with all her strength.
This was pretty cool. Ladyhawk missed on her initial roll to hit, but then used a Luck Point to re-roll it. This missed too and everyone was reasonably despondent. And then Dev came to the rescue.
"Hang on a minute, hang on. Can she use a Channelling Check to help magically aim the spear in flight?" - Dev.
"That's cool. Yeah, go for it."
Ladyhawk rolls her Channelling Check and passes epically, passing with five degrees of success.

Maebh can see as soon as she lets the spear go that it will fly wide, and so she gives it a slight mental nudge. In the dim moonlight, all can see a tiny glimmer of golden light around the spearhead as it alters direction and plunges deep into the beast's heart. With a great shuddering roar, the creature gives its last breath, the glowing eyes closing for the final time.

"I'm a genius." - Dev.
"Yes you are, thank you so much." - Ladyhawk.
This is far greater interaction than when one of them almost murdered the other.
"Can I go shove my spear in further to make sure?" - Dev, to me.
"Yeah, go for it."
"Wait, you need to think of something cool to say!" - LD.
"Uh..." - Dev, drawing a blank.
"Maybe this time!" - Ladyhawk, delivering her own contribution.
And so it is to the triumphant laughter of the group that Harold makes his way to shoulder of the beast and...
"78." - Dev, failing his Strength Check.
"Ah well, well done guys. The beast in the darkness is dead, and you all more or less contributed."
After all, Kel'Serrar shot it earlier, the remains of that arrow can be seen embedded in one of the beast's eyes. Breanna lured it out too, in order to allow Harold, Maebh and Tremor to actually kill the beast. They all did their part.

Tremor takes out his healing draughts and downs them all, accelerating his natural healing processes. He then starts to fill up the empty vials with the venom pooling beneath the beast's jaws.

Having heard the beast's death-roar, Kel'Serrar and Breanna start making their way towards the lair once more, leaving the two injured hunters behind. They arrive to see Maebh, Tremor and a six-foot tall dwarf who also looks a lot like Tremor. Kel'Serrar of course finds this hilarious.

Taking a closer looks at the corpse, the first thing Harold notices is that the beast is not natural. Many parts of the beast appear to have been grafted together, but despite that, he can recognise what it once was.

The creature used to be an ulvenseigl, a beast which prowls the rocky coastlines of Varr. This one is much larger than any Harold has ever seen, and covered in unusual armour and spines, but it was, once, an ulvenseigl. Ulvenseigl also aren't venomous, but this thing was.

Maebh studies the cracked boulder, which has by this stage sunk down into the earth, preventing access to the cavern beneath. Deciding that the best way to find out just who is behind this is to get into this cavern, the mage hurls another lightning bolt into the boulder. Tiny shards of rock whirl through the air, one nicking Maebh's cheek and the other slicing Harold's bicep, but other than that the companions are left unscathed by the storm of rock shards which fly outwards from where the lightning strikes.

Before them beckons the black hole.

They descend into the pit, and again take in the smooth walls carved from the rock by magic and the rusted iron bars separating them from the other side of the cavern, where flames flicker warmly in a fireplace.
"Is there any way to raise the bars?" - Wings.
"With better jokes." - Sins, quick as a flash.
Tremor takes his hammer and with a few quick strikes, breaks the bars apart.
“I made a door.” – Tremor, proud.
“That’s a recurring theme for you.”On the other side of the rusted bars, it is almost a temporary laboratory. A thick stone slab which sits at approximately Maebh’s waist in height and is fitted with thick leather straps, dominates the centre of the room. Strewn on and around the slab are a multitude of bloodstained surgical tools. Small glass cases are set into recesses in the cave wall too, each case holding one specimen of a variety of small creatures, ranging from spiders to snakes and lizards.

In the corner of the cavern is a simple one–man camp. A bedroll lies on the ground near the lit fireplace. Near to the bedroll is a wooden desk, upon which sits a couple of books on medical theory and a great many loose pieces of parchment. A quick flick through the parchment reveals notes in a spidery hand, a barely organised journal which details the procedures the mystery surgeon undertook on the beast.



‘Twenty-Ninthday of Thirdmonth: Begun the process of documenting the creation of the perfect predator. For so long I have wanted to witness such a beast, but have despaired of ever doing so. Now I take fate into my own hands.’

‘Firstday of Fourthmonth: Obtained the sedated beast from Varr. My research indicates the ulvenseigl is the most powerful predator pound-for-pound in the known world, and so it shall be my base.’

‘Third day of Fourthmonth: Have had to abandon the ability of flight in order to ensure the beast is able to return to its lair. Wings would be too easily fouled in this terrain and a beast so large would require elevation to become airborne, much like the dragains of the Wardenfells.’

‘Seventhday of Fourthmonth: Have distilled the venom of the Undmoric spider into a toxin which causes paralysis without the necrotic effect on the flesh the spider’s bite causes naturally.’

’Third day of Fifthmonth: The perfect predator needs to hunt its prey using all the senses possibly available. Many serpents from the southern lands rely on an ability to sense the life-flame of their prey. I have deduced that the ability to do this comes from the presence of organs in the front of the skull.’

‘Fifth day of Fifthmonth: I have isolated the life-sensing organs from a southern viper. Now the enlargement process must begin.’

‘Twenty-Second day of Fifthmonth: The enlargement process now complete, the organs are now ready to be implanted.’

‘Twelfthday of Sixthmonth: The beast escaped last night, but returned to the lair before day-break. It doesn’t want to be fed, it wants to hunt.

I shall let it continue to do so, unless the creature becomes too unruly.’

The notes are confusing to read to say the least. They flit back and forth from day to day, and worryingly, sometimes are written not from the perspective of the mystery surgeon, but as if written by the beast itself.

Plenty of tracks can be seen on the soft cavern floor, the tracks of a large humanoid. While the others look around the room, Kel’Serrar quietly takes the medical texts to study in his own time.

The tracks lead to a solid stone wall at the rear of the cavern. Set into the wall is a shallow stone bowl, stained with years of use. Around the bowl is an inscription:
I come to life the more you die.
“Right well that’s obvious. It’s a blood offering.” – Maebh, to general agreement.
The companions discuss whether or not they would be better served lying in wait in the cavern or opening the door and hopefully following the path to whoever is responsible for all this.
“I reckon we wait here for him to come back and then ambush him.” – Harold.
“We might be here for a long time. Time we don’t necessarily have. We are waiting for a messenger, remember?” – Kel’Serrar.
“Aye. We go through. Who is going to bleed for it though?” – Maebh.
“There’s a rapidly cooling corpse outside, full of blood.” – Breanna.
Kel’Serrar heads out, collecting the beast’s blood in a bowl and pouring it into the stone basin in the wall.

The wall shifts aside, revealing a short staircase and a long, perfectly hewn tunnel. The companions head in, and quickly realise that they are heading back underneath Urik’s Landing. Eventually they come to the end of the tunnel and find a trapdoor above them. Tremor goes first, opening the trapdoor to reveal the storeroom of DoktorJurdric.

There is a fair bit of discussion regarding what to do next. Harold is all for waiting in the laboratory again, hoping that they won’t be waiting too long. Tremor meanwhile believes the best option is to have Breanna lying in wait, ready to alert the rest of the companions if someone heads down the tunnel.

Eventually a decision is reached and Maebh sets a ward on the ground of the tunnel, a short way down the passage. It will alert her if it is crossed and will remain active for a few days until tripped. The companions go back to the Blackmane Inn and hope it is enough.

* * *

The sun has not yet risen when Maebh is alerted. The ward has been tripped. She hurries to alert the rest of the party.
“We need to split into two groups, one from either end of the tunnel. As Harold and I both have horses, we will go out into the swamp and approach from that direction. Agreed?” – Maebh, to the nods of the rest of the party.
She and Harold then make their way to the stable to pick up Toirneach and Amadeus.

Tremor, Breanna and Kel’Serrar:
The three companions run to the doktor’s residence, the streets empty in the early morning. Tremor then spends a good few minutes knocking furiously on the door, until a dishevelled Endric opens it.
“The hell is going on here? It is really early! What do you want?” – Endric, not happy.
“Move.” – Tremor, shoving the young man aside. Despite the size difference, the bulky Dwergar has no trouble doing so.
“Who else is here?” – Kel’Serrar, to the surprised Endric.
“Well my father is in the storeroom. I think Welyn might be as well, if he’s not sleeping at the inn.” – Endric, surprised.
“And how much do you like the idea of a giant death monster being let loose on the town?” – Kel’Serrar.
“Not much… I’m sorry, do I know you?” – Endric.
“No.” – Kel’Serrar, who has taken on the face of someone else again. I honestly have no idea who at this point.
“Look, we’re going to the storeroom. We may have to kill some people.” – Tremor.
Endric looks startled, and then he’s back to being angry.
“Look, tell me what is happening here!” – Endric, shoving Kel’Serrar and pinning him up against a wall.
“Did you miss the part about the giant death monster?” – Kel’Serrar, sarcastic and unconcerned. “Do you know what is happening under this place?”
Endric shakes his head.
“Look, just come with us, you’ll want to see this.” – Kel’Serrar, who is slowly released by the doktor’s son.
Endric pats the ranger’s cloak and smooths out where he had caused the fabric to bunch up.
“Sorry about that. I just don’t know what’s happening.” – Endric, ashamed of his outburst on, an admittedly self-invited, guest.
I asked Sins to make a Charm Check there, which is rolled against Charisma. There were laughs from most of the group and groans from Sins.
“Here we go, time to get my face punched in.” – Sins, as he rolls.
The dice fall, and lo and behold, he has passed.
“I have no idea how that happened.” – Sins, laughing.
“Well Sins, first of all, Charisma… WHEEE!” – Ladyhawk.

They enter the storeroom, Tremor and Breanna first with weapons at the ready, Kel’Serrar and Endric next, both of them slightly more calm. The room is more or less as they left it last night, save that the trapdoor on the floor is open.
“Oh no. Someone’s down there aren’t they?” – Endric, to the others.

Maebh and Harold:
The two companions are riding side by side through the swamps, spears in hand and scanning the ground for safe passage. Harold’s experience on marshy ground proves to be a life-saver as he picks out a path through the marshes which they can take at a break-neck pace.

They reach the cavern, the shattered boulder littering the landscape and the dead murder-beast lying on the ground where the companions left it.

Maebh and Harold dismount and search the ground for any tracks and evidence of people in the area who shouldn’t be, but are unable to find any tracks other than their own from last night.

They decide to wait in the laboratory, assuming that the alarm must have been tripped by someone entering the tunnel from the doktor’s storeroom. Interestingly, they notice that the stone door, which they opened with a blood offering last night, has closed again at some point.

Naturally, Maebh collects some, slightly congealed, blood from the corpse of the beast and opens the door.

“Look after the horses, I’m going in.” – Harold, to Maebh.
“Look after the other horse, I’m going in.” – Maebh, to Toirneach.
“Look after yourself, I’m going in.” – Toirneach, to Amadeus.

Tremor, Breanna and Kel’Serrar:
The companions jump down into the tunnel, Tremor first and Endric bringing up the rear. Ahead of them, a single lantern bobs up and down as someone walks slowly down the tunnel.

Breanna takes up her dagger and stalks up the tunnel, making no noise on the smooth, stone floor. The others follow a fair distance behind, knowing that Breanna will be much quieter than themselves, and hoping she can prevent the target from escaping while they catch up.

Upon approaching the target, the Leathe can see that he is a solitary man, elderly and moving very slowly. He is muttering to himself under his breath too.
“I’m going to tackle him.” – LD.“Who is that?” –Elderly man, turning back towards Breanna, just before she comes flying out of the darkness to tackle him.
He gives a somewhat panicked scream and tries to throw her off, but is unsuccessful.
“I didn’t mean for it to hurt anyone I swear! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” – Elderly man, revealed as doktorJurdric.
“Stop it, you’re hurting him!” – Endric, who rushes forward to pull Breanna off his father.
The Leathe only half-heartedly struggles.
“Let’s keep going down the tunnel and we’ll discuss this in the laboratory.” – Tremor, to the concerned Endric.

They meet up with Harold and Maebh in the tunnel and Kel’Serrar takes Breanna back to the storeroom, leaving Tremor, Maebh and Harold to hold onto Jurdic and lead Endric to the laboratory. The doktor’s son is horrified by what he sees.

Amongst other creatures, the glass cases contain a chameleon, an Undmoric spider and a pit viper. These creatures provided the skin pigmentation alteration, the paralysing venom and the heat-sensing organs respectively.

The fact that the chameleonic effect was natural is why Maebh was unable to see through its disguise, and the heat-sensing organs are why Breanna was still visible to it while still under the effects of Shadowskin.

Kel’Serrar and Breanna: The two companions wait underneath the trapdoor and can hear Welyn fussing around above them.
“I’ll grab you…. I’ll probably need you…” – Welyn, absent-mindedly talking to himself as he gathers up medical supplies for the day.
There are footsteps and the sound of a door opening, as Welyn enters the storeroom.
“Well then, what are you doing open? There’s nothing down there anymore…” – Welyn, confused. He walks over to the open trapdoor and closes it.

It is closed for merely a second before Breanna throws it open once more.
“What are you doing down there?” – Welyn, confused again as Breanna springs out from the underground tunnel.
“Look come with us. There’s something you need to see about the good doktor.” – Breanna.

Harold, Maebh and Tremor:
Jurdric has stopped muttering how sorry he is and has started wandering around the laboratory, feeding the animals in their cases and discussing with himself under his breath what pieces he should add to his beast. It’s like the companions and his son have just ceased to exist and the last fifteen minutes never happened.

“The beast he created is just outside. You can have a look if you want.” – Harold, to Endric, who immediately heads out.
A low whistle of surprise is the next thing they hear from the doktor’s son.
“Holy ****…” – Endric, walking back inside.
“The important thing here is that he is an old man, performing a valuable service for the community.” – Harold.
“I think the important thing is that he stops building this ****.” – Tremor, interrupting.
“Your father is harmless, as long as he isn’t allowed down here, at least without supervision.” – Harold.
“Absolutely… This is terrible. We will need to begin to make reparations… I cannot believe we are responsible for all the suffering those poor people in the hamlets have gone through.” – Endric, disconsolate.
“Well the best way to make reparations would be to help those people, but do not let on that it was your father. If the populace know that he was behind it, there will be riots, and that would be counter-productive. The people would be better served by your aid than your deaths. We will say nothing of what was behind the beast, only that we killed it. But you need to make sure that something like this never happens again.” – Harold.

Welyn comes in and they deliver much the same information to him too. The apprentice is taken immediately by the severity of the situation and promises that first thing he will do when he finishes his work for the day is come down and try to block up the tunnel.

For Jurdric’s happiness though, they take the glass cases up the tunnel to the house so he can continue to look after the various deadly creatures inside. It does seem to be one of the few activities which actually gives the old man some joy and peace.

And then they have a couple of days to rest and recuperate, waiting for some kind of message from Barandin.

* * *

A few days later a dwarven messenger bursts into the Blackmane Inn where the companions are sitting, enjoying their breakfast. He is bearing an envelope marked with the seal of the Ironfists. He is scruffy, and looks pretty weather-beaten, likely from a life spent on the open road.

“It is customary for the recipient to provide a coin to the messenger.” – Dwarven messenger, holding out a grimy hand.
Wordlessly, Tremor hands over a sulver and takes the envelope, which he opens as the messenger jogs out of the inn.


Dear cousin,

I have reached our friends and convinced them to send a man to meet with you. You will know him by the phrase, “The Winter Wind has borne you safely.” He expects the response, “None too soon,” as that was the general response of those here when told of your return.

If the gods will it, I shall see you here safely.

Your loyal cousin,

The companions spend another week recovering from their adventures. In this time, Harold gets his sabre reforged and Tremor buys himself a crossbow, already looking at ways he can improve the weapon…

* * *

The companions are eating their lunches in the Blackmane Inn, having enjoyed their week-long rest, when a stocky and powerfully built Dwergar bursts in through the door, making a beeline straight to where Tremor sits, nursing an ale and a plate of bacon. The newcomer is clad in dark wool and heavy leathers and his hair and beard are dark and wildly unkempt. A stout shortsword hangs from his belt. The right hand side of his face is covered in clan markings in blue ink.

The dwarf walks straight up to the table, ignoring the rest of the companions but shaking Tremor’s hand immediately.
“My name is Rorik Longstride. I am to be your guide. Are you ready to go?” – Longstride, briskly.
“Is there not some kind of code phrase?” – Tremor.
“Oh yeah. The Winter Wind has borne you home safely, or some such ****.” – Rorik, impatient.
“None too soon, right?” – Tremor.
“**** it, I don’t remember, something like that. Your cousin’s a pain for that kind of thing.” – Rorik, frowning.

They debate the plan to head north for a short while, Rorik suggesting they go north-west through the marshland, steal a barge from a riverside village and from there end up in the Valleywood. Harold however wishes to appear as legitimate as possible to those they intend to liberate, and suggests an alternate route, first renting a barge at Iceflow Watch and then proceeding north to The Crag, where they will take a route through the mountains and eventually arrive at the Resistance’s main camp. It will take longer, but also provides a better idea of the state of the realm.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Map%20of%20Nordtarnet_zpswdiffiny.jpg

Rorik agrees, as long as they get moving swiftly, so the companions finish their food, say their farewells and collect their equipment and animals.

The companions pick their way through the marshlands for around three days, eventually hitting Iceflow Watch in the evening. The village is very small, a few dwellings scattered around the rocky ford which spans the Iceflow River. A few barges rest on the bank, tied down securely. The village is quiet, and so the companions make camp on the southern bank of the river, thinking to cross the ford at dawn and hire passage north as quickly as possible.

The companions bed down for the night and are mildly uncomfortable in the cold, but they have no real choice in the matter as Iceflow Watch is too small to have an inn.

In the morning, before crossing the river, Kel’Serrar sets about altering the features of his companions so they don’t stand out so much. Northmenn, Invarrians and Dwergar are all reasonably common sights so far north, but Leathe and Danann, not so much. Using his newly-found illusory magic, Kel’Serrar changes his own appearance once more into a random Northmann from the Winter Wind and Maebh’s, Tremor’s and Breanna’s into random people he took note of in Urik’s Landing, a Northmann woman, a very rotund Dwergar and a young Dwergar girl respectively.

So disguised, the party crosses the ford and are hailed by a bargepike on his vessel, a few barrels of fish on the deck.
“What brings travellers to Iceflow Watch?” – Bargepike, reasonably friendly.
“We seek passage north. How far are you going?” – Harold.
“To Lord’s Ridge.” – Bargepike.
“Would you be open to going further?” – Harold.
“Of course, provided you had the coin to pay for it.” – Bargepike, smiling.
“How much for our group here?” – Harold, getting ready to haggle.
“The animals too? I guess we’ll need the two barges then. Ten sulvers a leg seem fair?” – Bargepike.
“Not really. How much to get to Lord’s Ridge?” – Tremor.
“Ah, seven sulvers a leg?” – Bargepike.
“We’ll offer our protection too. Surely that’s worth a discount?” – Tremor.
“I’m only going to Lord’s Ridge. Don’t need much in the way of protection. Too cold for bandits at this time of year.” – Bargepike.
Breanna flicks a crown at the man.
“Keep it. I have four more for you if you take us all to The Crag.” – Breanna, to the bargepike who is stunned by her wealth.
“I’ll just go get my brother to help me with the other barge.” – Bargepike.

The trip upriver from Icewater Watch to The Crag takes approximately five days. On the way, they pass Eastwatch Keep, a stout, wooden border-fort, manned by a company of heavily armed and armoured Dwergar. The party are not stopped, nor even hailed, as thanks to Kel’Serrar, they look like nothing more than an extended family escaping yet another warzone.
“We’re the Millers, right?” – LD, laughing.

Though they are not stopped, the companions do take good note of Eastwatch, knowing full well that they may be coming back this way to take it…

They also pass Lord’s Ridge, a city built on a cliff overlooking the Iceflow River and Sapphire Lake. According to Rorik, the ruler of Lord’s Ridge, Theyne Balof Redclay, is sworn to Bain Ironfist, but he is not the legitimate ruler. Lord Arald Redclay, the theyne’s older brother is one of the primary lords of the Resistance.

By the companions’ fifth day on the river, they are starting to get restless. The Crag is visible upriver when the bargepike, Willem, decides to ask them just what they want to do.
“So, shall I just drop you folks off at the docks or what?” – Willem.
“Yes, take us to the docks.” – Harold.
“Are you sure about this?” – Maebh, in an undertone.
“The whole reason we hired the barge was to appear as legitimate as possible. If we sneak off outside the city, then what’s the point?” – Harold, equally quiet.
“The fact that he felt the need to ask us if we wanted to be dropped off in the city says that we’ve not exactly succeeded.” – Maebh.
“Honestly, I’d say he’s just as much a smuggler as we are being smuggled. I’d wager this would not be the first time he’s done something like this, nor will it be the last.” – Kel’Serrar, joining the whispered conversation.

“Guys, the fact is that you guys showed up at dawn, having camped out for the night in ****-awful weather and then asked for a barge north. His response was, ‘Sure, for money,’ and you guys went, ‘Yes, we have gold!’ Which was offered to him by a little girl too. So naturally he thought, ‘Wow, this is odd,’ but he won’t ask any questions regarding that because you paid him and you were pleasant. So that’s enough.

Back in minute... :smallwink:

Phoenixguard09
2015-06-29, 11:32 AM
The Crag is a large stone fortress built into the side of a mountain. The dock is reasonably busy, despite the cold early morning weather. The Iceflow and dwarven artisans have combined over the centuries to carve the side out of the mountain, creating a shallow harbour under the rock for river vessels to make port. Sturdy wooden piers jut out from the rock, which leads directly to a modest market, which is only now starting to come to life as the day breaks.

And so the two barges drift into the dock, Willem and his brother, Rojer, throw out the ropes to tie the vessels down, with the help of those companions who can be bothered. Two guards, stout and very heavily armoured, bearing the insignia of House Windrider, watch the barge closely, but do not approach the companions.

Upon leaving the market district and entering the city proper, the companions are struck by just how beautiful it is. The stonework is exceptionally impressive and the artistry and ingenuity required to create the huge windows which admit light from outside while still keeping the entire city out of the elements is mindboggling. The companions do not spend long in The Crag though, following RorikLongstride out the gate and into the mountains, hopefully heading west and towards the Resistance.
“Hopefully we will get through without incident, but there are hill clans, some of which cannot be reasoned with.” – Rorik, pessimistic.

* * *

By the time the weak sunlight fades, the companions have made good time into the mountains. It is ridiculously cold, but the party is aided by their newly-purchased warm clothing. They come across a suitable area and Rorik suggests pitching a camp. The companions agree and Harold and Kel’Serrar set to making a fire while the others put up tents and Maebh sets a line of wards around the campsite.

The night passes uneventfully, although this does not give the party any comfort due to the ridiculously cold weather. Not only that, but the altitude is such that they find it very hard to breathe. Despite this, they all manage to sleep, leaving one person at a time on watch. It is very early morning, the sun yet to appear as anything more than a faint lightening of the sky, when the party is awoken by a blaring noise as a small caorigh trip Maebh’s wards.

Laughing to themselves, and cursing mountain goats, the companions pack up and move out.

* * *

The second day sees the companions moving even further into the mountains, following the bare, rocky path west, or as near to west as they can figure it. A little after midday, the companions start to become nervous, particularly Maebh and Kel’Serrar, an unsettling feeling running up their spines. Ahead, would be the perfect spot for an ambush.

On either side of the narrow valley run ledges, hidden in shadow. Beneath the ledges, pockets of undergrowth, just about the only plant-life they have seen for the last day.

Worried about a potential ambush, Kel’Serrar closes his eyes and attunes himself to the environment. In his mind’s eye, he can see humanoid figures upon the ledges, and more of them lying in wait in the scrub. The air is not disturbed by their breath. They are not alive.

“Is there anything in these mountains we should be worried about?” – Tremor, to Rorik.
“We’re fugitives, travelling with a convicted murderer and potential claimant to the throne, across a realm ruled by a maniac of a king, through hill-clan and bandit territory and you’re asking me if there’s anything we should be worried about? Are you off your ****ing head mate?” – Rorik, scoffing.
The companions quickly decide that Breanna and Kel’Serrar will climb to the ledges to take out the things up there, upon which the other companions will spring the trap.

So naturally the Leathe and disguised Danann climb up to the ledges, Kel’Serrar on the left and Breanna on the right.

On the ledges, facing the valley floor, are lines of skeletons, six on either side. Most of the skeletons are Northmenn, but a few are Leathe. Very few have scraps of flesh or material on them, but most are bare bone. All are armed with a variety of bows, arrows already nocked to the worn bowstrings.

Meanwhile, Maebh thinks better of springing the trap, and just fireballs the scrub to hell. Cold blue magic flares up in the midst of the flames, and the eyes of the watching skeletons with the bows blaze with a cold light as their compatriots burn beneath them.

But now Kel’Serrar and Breanna are in serious trouble, as both lines of archers turn towards them. The Leathe panics, and hurls one of her many knives at the closest archer, crushing the skeleton’s upper arm and rendering it useless. It gives a rattling moan and draws a crude stone dagger from its belt. It charges towards her, but she hacks at its leg with her heavy carving knife and it topples from the ledge.

Kel’Serrar meanwhile heaves himself up onto his ledge, draws his sword and swings it for the first time in earnest. He charges forward, sweeps under the archer’s arrow and pushes the skeleton over the edge.

A few skeletons drag themselves from the undergrowth, Maebh’s unnatural flames burning on the desiccated bones. Harold strides forward to meet them, striking with his axe and kicking them down to the dirt.

Tremor takes out his crossbow and scans Breanna’s ledge, seeing one of the archers about to loose an arrow at the Leathe, who is still clinging desperately to the rock. He brings up the weapon and looses a bolt with outstanding accuracy, punching through the skull of the archer.

Unfortunately, that still leaves Breanna with two skeletons about to attack her with crude weapons or bony claws, and another two with bows ready to shoot.

Those two archers do so, one arrow slamming into the Leathe’s shoulder, the other whistling past her ear. Despite the shock and pain, Breanna grimly manages to cling onto the ledge.

Kel’Serrar’s ledge has four skeletons ready to go with their bows. One arrow flies wide of Maebh, another pings off Harold’s pauldron and the last two go straight through Rorik’s face.
“Sorry guys, your guide is dead.”
“Aww no way!” – Ladyhawk.
“Aww ****.” – Dev.
“When you see the GM pick up a handful of dice and look at them pleadingly, you know the guide is dead.” – Sins.
“Yeah…Two arrows.Directly through the eyes. He’s gone.”
“We are boned. So boned.” – Dev.
“What the hell is up with your dice!?” – LD.
“They went all violent on me.” – in a slow, sad voice. After all, Rorik was going to be important in the next few sessions.
“They do that whenever you need to kill NPC’s.” – Sins.
“And Harold just looks at him.” – Dev, laughing.
“That’s why you wear armour, bitch.”
“Despite the fact that it hit him in the eyes.” – Dev.
“That’s why you have armoured eyelids like an ankylosaurus, bitch.”

Two skeletons try to claw at Breanna as she hangs from the ledge, but she uses one of their arms to heave herself up, in the process pulling the abomination over the edge.

Upon seeing the arrows pick out Rorik with unnerving accuracy, Maebh calls up a blazing disc of golden light in front of her.

Harold charges towards the leftledge to help Kel’Serrar.

Kel’Serrar meanwhile hacks at a skeleton with his blade, but is generally unsuccessful at hurting it. He manages to force it back, but only succeeds in taking off a hand.

Tremor meanwhile, uses Rorik’s corpse as a shield, simultaneously searching the dead dwarf’s pockets. He find a beaten map, with several points of interest in the mountains marked on it, and a small purse of ten sulvers. The silver coins are freshly minted, bearing the face of Tremor’s brother, Bain Ironsfist.

The two archers on Kel’Serrar’s ledge that are still holding their bows shoot at Tremor, but the arrows pass on either side of the Dwergar. On Breanna’s ledge, one archer shoots Kel’Serrar, grazing the ranger’s calf. The other aims at Breanna, but the arrow sails wide.

Between them Breanna, Harold and Kel’Serrar hack apart the last of the skeletons on the ledges, only taking a few more minor cuts and scrapes. Tremor takes one of them out with his crossbow too.

Continuing along the mountain path, Tremor shows the map to his companions.
“Look what our friend had on him. We should be able to find our way through these mountains without him.” – Tremor, omitting the information regarding the sulvers he found in Rorik’s possession.

This was probably a bit of meta-gaming here. The players decided to just leave Rorik’s corpse behind with no second thoughts. Probably because they think he was a traitor. Which he might have been, or he might have been carrying those sulvers to show the Resistance proof that Bain was minting his own currency… We will never know.

A few of the hill-clan territories are marked on the map in the valleys, but quite vaguely. The Mountain Finches and the Baersonlings seem to range over the widest territory. Two crossed swords, just south-west of the Mountains Finch territory likely represent the location of the Resistance. Very close to where the companions believe themselves to be, a black swirl is marked on the map.

They do discuss some troubling details regarding the ambush. Firstly, that the skeletons, while animated, there did not seem to be a necromancer in the vicinity. If there was, the companions couldn’t find him. Secondly, the presence of Leathe skeletons amongst the attackers. The Leathe are so uncommon as to be almost unheard of this far north. Only the most itinerant of travellers, such as Breanna, make their way so far from their homeland.

Within twenty minutes, the companions have come across a splinter path from their mountain pass, a crevice in the rock wall to their right. According to their map, the black swirl likely lies at the end of this splinter path.

So they investigate…

* * *

At the end of the path lies a doorway into the mountain. Strange carvings and runes are inscribed above the doorway. Tremor recognises a few animals carved into the stone as being native to the area, snow-wolves, havbaears and gigants. Kel’Serrar finds that he can pick out some of the words, the script appearing to match the Scribhinn, but it is Breanna who is most amazed by what she finds. Whatever language these ancient inscribers were carving, matches the Leathe dialect pretty closely. There is some lingual drift, but not much, despite these runes being carved many centuries ago.

“Here lies the tomb of the Great Explorer, beloved of his people. Dare not disturb his eternal rest…” – Breanna, under her breath.

Ignoring the warning, Maebh conjures a flame and lights a torch each for Harold, Tremor and Kel’Serrar before the companions venture into the darkness.

Before them stretches a long corridor with a high ceiling. On either side, smooth rock walls, carved with lines of ancient text. Breanna recognises the text as an old myth, of a Leathe explorer. She remembers hearing the story when she was very young, as told by the old storyteller of Greenstone. No one ever actually believed it though, the deeds attributed to the young and dashing Brin Greenfield far too outlandish to be taken as fact.

Perhaps there was more to it than mere fireside stories after all…

On the left wall lies the story as Breanna remembers it, replete with all of Brin’s amazing adventures. On the right, lies the story of what happened afterwards. After defeating the White Dragain of Hithaeril, Brin Greenfield sailed north once more and established a colony in these very mountains.

At the end of the corridor, there is a thick stone door. At Breanna’s chest height, there is a triangular indent in the door, very alike to the key-hole in the ruins outside Summer Hill. Kel’Serrar looks around and notices a loose flagstone on the ground. He pries it free, and there lies a silver triangular medallion, around the size of his palm, a green gem set in to the metal. He takes it and pushes it into the keyhole, and the doors grind open.

Before them is a large, bare room. There is a path leading to the left, two paths to the right and a massive black iron door straight ahead.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/The%20Crypt%20of%20the%20Explorer_zpsf1qbolj9.jpg

“I’ll catch up in a minute.” – Tremor, splitting from the party.
Everyone bar Tremor goes down the left path, while the Engineer walks straight up to the door to inspect it.

The companions go down the path and take a right angle turn to the left, turning them back the way they came. A room opens ahead of them, Leathe skeletons in ancient armour lying on ledges set into the walls, weapons held in dead fists.

The companions dub this room the crypt, and leave quickly.

Tremor:
Tremor’s doorway swings open at his touch. A very large room is revealed before him, the light of his torch illuminating a massive cavern. The outline of an ancient ship is the first thing the Dwergar notices, but then rank upon rank of Leathe skeletons come into view. They are armed for war, facing the doorway. They look as if they have been standing there, like that, for an age. Having seen them, he turns and joins the others.

Having left the crypt, the other companions inspect the pathways on the other side of the main hall. The furthest from the original corridor has caved in at some point in the past and egress is blocked by massive slabs of granite. The other however is a long, winding path which leads further underground. The further they go, the colder the air becomes, and the light emitted by the torches seems to penetrate the darkness less and less.

The companions eventually come to a room, in the centre of which sits a stone sarcophagus. Around the sarcophagus, set into the walls, are more biers holding heavily armoured Leathe skeletons, surrounded by a dark glowing energy. The sarcophagus appears to be the source of the power, the dark light seeping from the rock.

“Ladyhawk, would you be a dear-“ – Dev, about to ask for the Coke.
“Baaaaah!” – I made the closest approximation I could to a deer noise.
“Actually, when I went to the deer park with my family I saw a deer and all it did was stand there going, ‘BUK-Ptthhhh! BUK-Ptthhhh!” – Ladyhawk, with corresponding facial expressions.
As an aside, I do encourage the readers to look up elk noises. They really are amazing.
“But we wouldn’t want this scene to stag-nate, so we’ll get back to it.” – Sins, the Lord of the Puns.

With a crunching of bones, the sarcophagus shifts and the skeletons around the room turn to look at the companions, a fell light gleaming in their empty eye sockets.

“Maebh, set up a few walls of blades in the hallway. We might be in a bit of trouble soon.” – Harold. She does so, careful not to draw too much energy, knowing that if she does so, it might lead to her soulfire being corrupted.

The skeletal constructs stagger towards the companions, eight strong and gripping ancient iron weapons.

Throwing caution to the wind, Maebh blasts the skeletons with torrents of boiling water with enough force to crack five of the dead Leathe against the stone wall.

The lid of the sarcophagus hits the floor and a crowned Leathe in finely crafted leather armour springs out, making for Maebh with a rusted sword. He attempts to strike her, but the mage hurriedly moves out of his way. Breanna pings off a bolt from her crossbow, but is unable to cause any lasting damage.

Not so Kel’Serrar who smashes the undead king’s skull and puts him down with a single arrow.

Harold moves to intercept the last three guards, taking the arm of one and the head off another, which falls the stone floor. Tremor puts the last two down with his greatsword, leaving the king’s crypt in silence as they listen to the army of dead Leathe feeding themselves into Maebh’swoodchipper. None make it through.

The companions look around the crypt, Breanna setting her paws on the king’s finely crafted armour. They do find a chunk of dark, purplish rock in the bottom of the sarcophagus, which Maebh confirms as the source of the dark energy.

Harold picks it up and throws it into the closest wall of blades, the companions expecting an explosion similar to the one which resulted when last time someone threw magic into a wall of blades. Instead, the blades appear to almost be sucked into the chunk of rock, and it falls to the stone floor with a heavy thud.

Tremor takes his hammer to the rock and parts of it chip off and seem to melt into nothing before their eyes, but it hardly seems to be damaging the rock in any real way. So they resolve to leave it be.

Before leaving, Breanna takes down a brief recap of the whole story to take back to her people. The companions also check out the ship, which Breanna vaguely remembers was called the Northrunner. It is not special, just the equivalent of a caravel, (No guns obviously.) though it is pretty amazing how old it is. The room is otherwise empty, those skeletons around it having been ripped apart by Maebh's blade walls.

The companions seal the tomb by closing the doors and taking the key with them.

* * *

The companions follow Rorik's map as much as they can over the next few days, but it is all they can do just to hope they have not become lost in the mountains. By the third day of travelling, the valleys have steadily become lined with trees, giving way to the Valleywood.

It is early morning when they are halted in their tracks by a soft lilting voice coming from the trees above the path ahead.
"What is your business here? Oh wow, you really are a Leathe!" - Voice.
Onto the path ahead drop two Leathe, armoured in tough leathers and holding bows. One is brown furred, the other dark grey.
"Where are you from? I would recognise you if you were from around here." - Brown furred Leathe, friendly.
"Uh, Greenstone. I would not have expected to find any of our people so far north." - Breanna.
"The Mountain Finches have been in the Valleywood for centuries. Come, you and your friends are most welcome to our hospitality for the night, and all questions will be answered at Imreitibh." - Grey furred Leathe.

The companions follow their two new guides to the settlement of the Mountain Finches, Imreitibh. It is a small town, built in the treetops with rope bridges spanning the gaps between trees and dwellings. One can walk from one side of town to the other without ever setting foot on the ground.

The companions are led to the chieftain of the Mountain Finches, a heavily built white furred Leathe named Caober Snowtail, and the clan shaman, his brother Merrt.
"Welcome, my friends, to Imreitibh. The limited services and hospitality of my people is yours for your time with us. And now you, dear girl, what is your name and story?" - Caober, warmly greeting the companions. Which is more than they could expect really considering their state. They've spent a fair bit of time on the river and then on the road. They are dusty, bloodied and probably smell. But despite this, or perhaps because of this, Caober has decided to treat them as well as possible.
"Breanna Blackrose, of Greenstone." - Breanna, by way of reply.
"Ah Greenstone, I know of the village. After all, the great Righ Brin Greenfield hailed from that very place. Do you know his tale?" - Caober, friendly.
"I do, vaguely, but as much as I would love to discuss our history with you and find just how you came to be here, we are on a pressing mission." - Breanna, sidestepping the whole, 'Yes I just finished killing your legendary king again,' with great success.
"Indeed? Well then tell me about it and we shall help if we can. After all, you are family, if distant, and family must always aid each other." - Caober.


The Leathe society is clan based to the extent that an individual Leathe's family is often the most important thing in their lives. Naturally, Caober's words send an immediate pang of regret through Breanna, who has left her own brothers to their own devices for years. The whole reason she is adventuring though is because she was forced into a life of crime to support them, but that backfired horribly.

Betrayal within the family unit is seen as just about the worst crime a Leathe could commit, hence Breanna's fervent belief that her brothers hate her utterly.

Another note, the Mountain Finches are one of the descendant clans of Brin Greenfield's settlers. The other clans have since been destroyed or amalgamated into larger clans, eventually leaving only the Mountain Finches in the Valleywood. Caober Snowtail is an indirect descendant of Greenfield, which is why he considers Breanna family, not just because they are both Leathe.

"This map has a pair of crossed swords to what I assume is the west of this location. Would that happen to be the location of the Nordtarnet Resistance?" - Tremor, trusting that the Mountain Finches are not allied with Bain.
"That would appear to be correct yes. We are aware of their location. Not much happens in these forests without our knowledge. We do not aid them, but nor have we clashed with them. We try to stay out of dwarven politics. It is not our fight." - Caober.
"These troubles are those of men and dwarves. We have our own way of life in these valleys and that is how we like it." - Merrt, coldly to the companions.
"Who else lives in these valleys?" - Harold, curious.
"Well the other main power among the hill clans would be the Baersonlings. They are all Hillmenn, large men and wild. Powerful fighters, though easy to misdirect. There are plenty of other clans too, Hillmenn, Dwergar, even more civilised Northmenn. Oh, and the Sons of Wyre." - Caober, grim.
"The Sons of Wyre... I have heard of them. A mercenary band." - Tremor.
"Yes, a band of the most vicious mercenaries available to one with enough silver to pay for them. And after he took The Crag, Ironfist has silver enough to do so many times over." - Merrt.
"They scour the valleys for the Resistance, but so far they have only found clans. They have encroached on our lands too many times and we have shot them for it, but they retaliated by burning five of our scouts alive." - Caober, sadly.
"This band, where are they now?" - Maebh.
"Baersonling lands, to the north." - Merrt.
"Well, I guess all I can ask is that when you get the chance, kill as many of the bastards as possible." - Tremor.
"We shall. We shoot them on sight." - Caober.
"Why didn't you shoot us? Just out of curiosity." - Harold.
"You travel with a Leathe and our scouts were curious. Be thankful you were so fortunate, many are not." - Merrt.

The companions are granted a dwelling in the treetops for a night, a sturdy wooden affair with a very low ceiling. The Danann quickly find it quite claustrophobic, while Breanna feels right at home. Tremor, after forgetting the fact that he is gently swaying twenty odd feet above the ground, also feels pretty comfortable, while Harold just falls asleep straight away. It has been a long and uncomfortable last few days.

The companions are seen off with many well-wishes in the morning, with replenished supplies, a newly marked map and a promise from Caober Snowtail that the companions can send word and the Mountain Finches will send aid.

It is midday when the companions stumble upon the camp of the Resistance. Immediately they are ringed by Northmenn and Dwergar, bearing spears and other weapons. One heavily built dwarf forces his way forward. He is grim in bearing, clad in a simple long white robe. His beard is long and a dark slate grey. His face has the sunken look of a man who has enjoyed many years of comfort followed by a short, sharp period of deprivation.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" - Old Dwergar, harshly.
"Who do I look like?" - Tremor.
The old man takes a long look at Tremor and recognition gleams in his dark eyes.
"My lord Ironfist." - Old man, falling to his knees.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up
I didn't realise it while writing it, but this session is actually longer than the previous one, which I guess explains why it took so long to write it. I do apologise for that. I really dropped the ball. It has been years since I have not finished the previous write up before playing the next session and I do apologise.

This was a pretty cool session I thought. Everything went pretty quickly in the combats because we had played recently and everyone still remembered how to do things. Unfortunately, we then had two months off and everyone forgot again, but hey, it was fun while it lasted.

The next session truly is gigantic by the way. I know some people here play non-stop for 12 hours and things like that, but by our standards this next one is an absolute beauty. Over 7 hours of gameplay had my throat raw as all hell by the end of it, so if you are a GM who has been able to deliver a game comfortably over that period of time, my hat goes off to you. You bloody legend.

Again, any comments or questions are more than welcome. I have some artwork and maps and such coming up too which I will add to this shortly.

That ought to do it, thanks for reading. Catcha next time. :smallbiggrin:

Phoenixguard09
2015-07-01, 10:12 AM
Okay, it is late but I'm set on posting the character's sheets as of the end of Session 4.4, which is hopefully coming soon.


Invarrian Level 8 Duellist
Stats:
Combat Skill: 51
Ballistic Skill: 32
Strength: 46
Toughness: 47
Dexterity: 36
Agility: 41
Initiative: 42
Health: 19/19
Charisma: 41
Perception: 32
Intelligence: 52
Willpower: 32
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Animal Care +10
Charm +20
Command +20
Concealment +10
Deception +10
Disguise +10
Dodge Blow +10
Gambling +20
Haggling +20
Healing
Intimidation +20
Riding +20
Silent Movement +20
Taunt +20
Common Knowledge (Duelling)
Navigation

Talents & Traits:
Reaver: +5 to Navigation and Sailing Checks.
Invarrian Senses: +10 to Perception Checks.
Ambidextrous: No penalties for attacks made with non-preferred hand.
Cool-Headed: Re-roll a single Intelligence Check per day.
Dashing Figure: +10 to Charm Checks.
Moves Like Quicksilver: +10 to Dodge Blow Checks.
Experienced Duellist: +10 to Parrying.
Flurry of Blows: May attack twice per normal attack with a -10 To Hit.
Lightning Parry: May sacrifice any number of attacks in a round for that many attempts to Parry.
Fall On Their Own Blades: On a successful Parry Check against multiple opponents, the parried strike is resolved against another target in the same combat.
Swordmaster: +1 Critical Damage when using a sword.
Deathsword: +1 attack for every enemy with a lower Combat Skill in the same combat.
Called Disarm: +10% to Disarm on a Called Shot.
Seize the Moment: +10% when Parrying to get a Counter Strike.
Riposte: Gain an additional Counter Strike on a Critical Parry.
Bladelord: +10% to Combat Skill when using a sword.
Swordsman's Grace: Count first digit of Agility for Damage Reduction.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Sabre (Quality: Common)
2 shortswords (Common)
Walking staff (Improvised)
Arming sword (Masterwork)
Boarding axe (Common)
2 spears (Common)
Longsword (Common)
Dagger (Common)
Armour -
Chain haubergeon (Common)
Steel vambraces (High) Enscribed with Runes of Protection
Steel plate cuirass (High) Enscribed with Runes of Blinding Light
Steel greaves (High)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Tinderbox
Torch
Rations
2x winter clothing


Danann Level 8 Mage
Stats:
Combat Skill: 33
Ballistic Skill: 51
Strength: 39
Toughness: 47
Dexterity: 30
Agility: 39
Initiative: 50
Health: 15/15
Charisma: 22
Perception: 39
Intelligence: 51
Willpower: 47
Magic: 4
Soulfire: 75/75
Luck: 5/6

Skills:
Climbing
Concealment
Dodge Blow
Drive
Healing
Intimidation +10
Riding
Search
Silent Movement +10
Survival +10
Channelling +20
Hypnotism +10

Talents & Traits:
Danann Senses: Night-Eye and +5 to Perception Checks.
Unrestrained Power: +1D10 to Cast.
Lightning Reflexes: Re-roll a single Initiative Check per day.
Master of Destruction: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Destruction Spells.
Make It All Burn: +2 Fire Damage.
Dual Casting: May cast two Spells with a single Action. -4 to Cast the second Spell.
Destructive Will: Adds the first digit of Willpower to Destruction Spell damage.
Force of Destruction: Doubles the effect of Destructive Will.
Master of the Bri: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Weathermancy Spells.
Mage's Eye: +10 to Search Checks.
Master of Protection: +1 per Magic Level to Cast Protection Spells.
Arcane Lord: +2 per Magic Level to Cast all Spells. Stacks with the Mastery Talents.
Stormlord: Weathermancy takes one less turn to prepare.
Defiance of the Laws of Nature: Weathermancy may be used underground and indoors.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Hunting spear (Common)
Arming sword (Common)
Tower shield (High)
Longsword (Masterwork)
Golden Dagger (High)
Armour -
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Leather boots (Common)
Miscellaneous - (Most stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart, the sash over her chest, the bronze chain which is worn on her wrist and the wolf-fang talisman and focus stone which are pendants and worn around her neck.)
Tent
Rations
"Candle-clock"
Lesser focus stone
Wolf-Fang Talisman (+10 to Survival Checks)
Bronze chain bracelet (Ignore 1 Miscast per Session)
Red sash (Increases maximum Soulfire by 15)
Summoning coin (Uncharged)
Fire Scroll
Wand of Alderwood
Wand of Oak - Enscribed with Runes of Decay
Pouch of Precious Stones
The Scripts of Udlar (+20% to Ritual Magic Checks)
Winter clothes with big heavy coat
Mantikor egg (Approximately a month until hatching)

Magic:
Flare - Magic missile, D10+Fire Damage (Destruction)
Create Element - Small amount of fire, water, wind or electricity.
Magic Alarm - Wards an area, producing a loud noise, plus alerting the caster to anyone in the immediate vicinity of the ward. (Protection)
Remove Curse - Caster nullifies any active Curse effects on the target.
Whispering Wind - A slight gust of wind carries a short message to a target. (Weathermancy)
Wall of Blades - Creates a wall of magic blades which shred anything which tries to pass. (Destruction)
Fireball - Magic missile, 2D10+Fire Damage (Destruction)
Aethyric Shield - Magic shield, provides heavy cover against ranged attacks. (Protection)
Eyes of Truth - See through illusions, invisibility and magical darkness.
Gust of Wind - Strong gust of wind which staggers anyone it it's path. Causes minor damage.
Fury of the River - Torrent of magical water, D10 Damage, can drown targets.
Bloodboil - Causes the target's blood to boil. Fire Damage on touch.
Call Lightning - Once the weather is called, lightning bolts streak down from the sky at selected targets. (Weathermancy)
Devastating Gale - Much like Gust of Wind, Devastating Gale causes more damage over a great area.


Leathe Level 8 Assassin
Stats:
Combat Skill: 43
Ballistic Skill: 38
Strength: 42
Toughness: 34
Dexterity: 38
Agility: 38
Initiative: 37
Health: 14/15
Charisma: 27
Perception: 40
Intelligence: 40
Willpower: 38
Magic: 2
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Animal Care +10
Charm +10
Climbing +10
Command
Concealment +20
Deception +10
Disguise +10
Dodge Blow +10
Drive
Evaluation +10
Haggling
Healing +10
Intimidation
Riding
Search +10
Silent Movement +20
Survival +20
Swimming
Lockpicking +20
Sleight of Hand +20
Prepare Poisons +10

Talents & Traits:
Tree Dweller: +5 to Climbing Checks.
Sixth Sense: On a successful Perception Check, may ignore the Ambush rules.
Blade in the Shadow: +10 to Concealment Checks.
Sneak Attack: +D10 Damage to unaware enemies.
Excellent Vision: Re-roll a single Search Check per day.
Knife-Fighter: May still Parry with a knife.
Like Killing A Shadow: +10 to Dodge Blow Checks. Increases to +20 in shadowy areas.
Backstab: +2 Damage when Sneak Attacking.
Sturdy: Re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Check per day.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Carving knife (Common)
2 daggers (Common)
Crossbow with 20 bolts
Shortsword
Armour -
Reinforced leather jerkin (Masterwork)
Light leather vambraces (Common)
Leather light helm (High) Enscribed with Runes of Awareness
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Rations
Torch
2 daemonology books
Summoning coin (Uncharged)
2x winter clothing

Magic:
Shadowskin - Caster is wreathed in a shadowy veil. Counts as light cover and provides +20 to Concealment Checks. (Illusion)
Magic Dart - Magic missile, D10+2 Damage (Destruction)
Phantom Noise - Creates a single noise from a specific location. May duplicate two syllables of speech. (Illusion)
Obscuring Mist - Creates a blanket of fog. +10 to Concealment when within the fog. (Illusion)
Sleep - Causes the target to fall into a short magical coma on touch.
Terrifying Visage - The caster causes Fear for the duration of the Spell. (Illusion)
Shadow Figure - Creates the sillhouette of a single man-sized figure, which may perform any action the caster desires. The figure is insubstantial and disappears after a short time. It cannot be harmed, nor can it interact with the environment. (Illusion)


Danann Level 6 Ranger / Level 2 Mesmer
Stats:
Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 56
Strength: 45
Toughness: 32
Dexterity: 41
Agility: 37
Initiative: 36
Health: 11/11
Charisma: 20
Perception: 50
Intelligence: 51
Willpower: 29
Magic: 4
Soulfire: 40/40
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Climbing
Concealment +20
Deception +20
Disguise +20
Dodge Blow +20
Healing +20
Silent Movement +20
Survival +20
Swimming +10
Woodland Senses +20
Common Knowledge (Wilderness) + 20
Mesmerisation +10
Hypnotism +10

Talents & Traits:
Danann Senses: Night-Eye and +5 to Perception Checks.
Quick Reload: Nock and loose an arrow in a single Action.
Mighty Shot: +1 Critical Damage when using a bow.
Herblore: +10 to Healing Checks.
Forest Cloak: +10 to Concealment Checks in the wild.
Whisper in the Tress: +10 to Silent Movement Checks.
Secrets of the Ancient Archers: +1 to Cast Arcane Archer Spells.
Might of the Ancient Archers: +3 to Cast Arcane Archer Spells.
Aimed Shot: Sacrifice an Action for +10 To Hit with a ranged attack.
Cool-Headed: Re-roll a single Intelligence Check per day.
Eagle-Eye: +3 Damage for Aimed Shots.
Powerful Shot: Adds the first digit of Strength to ranged damage.
Witchflame: +10% To Hit with the Flaming Arrow Spell.
Precise Shot: Adds the first digit of Perception to ranged damage. May also make a called shot with no penalties.
Skillful Shot: Adds the first digit of Ballistic Skill to ranged damage.
Masterful Shot: Combines Skillful, Precise and Powerful Shot Talents. They do not stack normally.
Improved Alter Self: May alter the apparent race of the target of Mesmer disguise spells.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Longbow (Common)
Longknife (Common)
Quiver with 38 arrows (Common)
Arming sword (High)
Hunting bow (High)
Armour -
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Leather boots (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart and the Ring of True-Sight which he wears on his left hand.)
Tent
Rations
Compass
Writing implements (Stolen from Tremor)
Silver ring
Golden ring enscribed with Runes of True Sight (The One Ring)
20ft of rope
5 arrowheads
Winter clothing with white cloak

Magic:
Flaming Arrow - Arrow causes Fire Damage and can used as a lightsource. (Arcane Archery)
Patriot Arrow - Auto-Hit. (Arcane Archery)
Starlight - Creates soft glow of visibility around the character.
Alter Self - Alters the caster's appearance. (Illusion)
Deceptive Façade - The same as Alter Self, save on a target within touch.
Phantom Noise - Creates a single noise from a specific location. May duplicate two syllables of speech. (Illusion)


Dwergar Level 7 Engineer / Level 1 Necromancer
Stats:
Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 22
Strength: 30
Toughness: 48
Dexterity: 33
Agility: 34
Initiative: 36
Health: 16/20
Charisma: 21
Perception: 34
Intelligence: 40
Willpower: 41
Magic Level: 2
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Climbing
Command
Concealment +10
Disguise
Dodge Blow +10
Evaluation
Gambling +10
Haggling +10
Intimidation +10
Silent Movement
Survival
Invention +20
Alchemy
Craft (Wood) +10
Runesmithing +10
Craft (Metal)
Common Knowledge (Herblore)
Raise Dead +10
Common Knowledge (Necromancy)
Common Knowledge (Black Magic)

Talents & Traits:
Craft Master: +10 to Evaluation Checks.
Innovative: +10 to Invention Checks.
Stout-Hearted: Re-roll Fear Checks.
Cold of the North: Re-roll Strength reduction Checks due to cold.
Bloodrage: Can go beserk.
Expert Driver: +10 to Drive Checks
Metalworker: +10 to Metalwork Checks
Woodcrafter: +10 to Woodwork Checks

Equipment:
Weapons -
Hammer (Improvised)
Hatchet (Common)
Greatsword (Common) Enscribed with the Rune of Silver Arrows
Wooden roundshield (Common)
Spear (Common)
Iron dagger (Common)
Crossbow (Common) with 15 bolts
Windrider Axe (Masterwork) Enscribed with Runes of Flaming Ruin
Steel heater shield (Masterwork) Enscribed with Runes of Warding
Armour -
Steel wolf-skull helm (High)
Chain hauberk (Common)
Leather bracers (Common)
Leather jerkin (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Universal Key
Saw
Nails
Tent
Rations
2 vials of healing salve
1 vial of pain-killing draught
1 vial of pain-inflicting draught
1 vial of paralysing venom
Silver whistle
Pipe and weed
Writing implements
Summoning coin (Uncharged)
Amulet (Luck enchantment)
Blueprint - Mechanical falcon
Blueprint - Universal key
Blueprint - Otherworld Runes
1 Deadstone (Uncharged)
Winter clothing

Ingir's Journals: +10 to Metalworking
Cune's Folio: Unknown
Hossimmo's Daemonic Manual: Unknown
Scroll Crafting: Allows scroll making as a skill.
Apocrypha of Ribha: Unknown
5 Unidentified Scrolls
Codex of Blood: Unknown
Manuscripts of Odon: Unknown

Magic:
Withering Touch: Reduces the Toughness of a single target within touch. (Necromancy)
Corpse Bomb: All corpses within 18 yards explode. (Necromancy)


Selkye Level 5 Druid / Level 2 Mesmer
Stats:
Combat Skill: 21
Ballistic Skill: 34
Strength: 29
Toughness: 52
Dexterity: 30
Agility: 26
Initiative: 22
Health: 10/10
Charisma: 57
Perception: 29
Intelligence: 51
Willpower: 55
Magic: 4
Soulfire: 40/40
Luck: 4/6

Skills:
Animal Care
Charm
Deception
Disguise
Dodge Blow
Healing +10
Intimidation
Search
Survival
Common Knowledge (Wilderness)
Common Knowledge (Spirits)
Wildform (Small) + 10
Wildform (Medium)

Talents & Traits:
Cold of the North: Re-roll Strength reduction Checks due to cold.
Herblore: +10 to Healing Checks.
Magic Mask: +10 to Deception Checks.
Life on the Waves: +5 to Swimming and Rowing and +10 to Fishing
Beast Tongue: Communication with animals.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Longspear (High) Enscribed with Runes of Leeching
Bone knife (Common)
Recurve bow (Common)
Quiver with 38 arrows (Common)
Hunting spear (Common)
4 throwing daggers (Common)
Armour -
Leather bracers (Common)
Thick fur coat (Common)
Hide jerkin (Common)
Leather greaves (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart and the animal bits which are worn on her belt)
Tent
Rations
Compass
Linen bandages
Writing implements (Stolen from Tremor)
5ft of rope
7 dyes of different colours and needle and thread

Thick leather belt (+5 Initiative)
Rabbit foot
Fox paw
Cat paw
Hawk feather

Magic:
Alter Self - Alters the caster's appearance. (Illusion)
Create Element - Small amount of fire, water, wind or electricity.
Magic Snare - Wards an area, rendering any who walk into it immobile and helpless. (Protection)
Whispering Wind - A slight gust of wind carries a short message to a target. (Weathermancy)
Blinding Light - A surge of light which blinds those in the target area. (Illusion)
Illusory Pit - Creates an illusion of a giant hole in the ground, along with inducing the sensation of falling to those caught within it. (Illusion)


Invarrian Level 7 Warrior
Stats:
Combat Skill: 34
Ballistic Skill: 23
Strength: 39
Toughness: 31
Dexterity: 26
Agility: 27
Initiative: 23
Health: 28/28
Charisma: 21
Perception: 29
Intelligence: 35
Willpower: 29
Luck: 6/6

Skills:
Animal Care +10
Charm
Dodge Blow +10
Gambling
Healing +10
Riding +10
Silent Movement
Survival
Swimming

Talents & Traits:
Suave: A single re-roll to Charm and Haggling per session.
Reaver: +5 to Navigation and Sailing Checks.
Invarrian Senses: +10 to Perception Checks.
Cold of the North: Re-roll Strength reduction Checks due to cold.
Survivor: On a successful Toughness Check, at the end of a combat regain +1 Health
Fear Me: -10 to enemy Morale Checks.
Let's Get 'Em: +5% To Hit in Close Combat and +5% to allied Morale Checks.
Cunning Warrior: +10 to Parrying.

Equipment:
Weapons -
Arming sword (Common)
Wooden round shield (Common)
Skinning knife (Improvised)
Dagger (Common)
Armour -
Leather jacket (Common)
Leather bracers (Common)
Miscellaneous - (All stored in a backpack, save the tent which is usually left on the party's cart.)
Tent
Tinderbox
Rope - 12 feet
Torch
Rations
Compass
2x winter clothing
Wineskin
Map of Norbayne
Winter clothing with heavy winter cloak

Phoenixguard09
2015-07-26, 02:05 AM
Just a quick update,

We are due to play on the 2nd of August, hopefully another all-day session. Delphi will be joining us, Opal most likely not. The session is likely to be marked by the emergence of a few secrets that we didn't know about the cast of characters.

I am also over three hours and 10,000 words into the write-up for 4.4. It has been suggested to me that I may need to stagger the posts over a couple of days so we don't overload you guys.

So stay tuned for Session 4.4: When the Bat-**** Insanity Hits the Fan: In which our heroes storm fortresses, cause havoc and bury an underground city in guano...

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-05, 09:52 AM
Session 4.4 (a): When the Bat-**** Insanity Hits the Fan

“The masters of the Icebays, the Selkye are an incredible people, capable of surviving in some of the harshest conditions imaginable.

The Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn, or the Tribe of the Northern Waters, are typical of the Selkye as a whole. Ruled over by a caste of priestesses, the Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn make their home on the eastern-most Icebay. They worship a pantheon of animal spirits, much like the other Selkye tribes, the priestesses often spending many nights at a time out in the wilderness in the shape of the spirit they wish to contact, seeking wisdom from the creatures which roam the tundra.

The Selkye are renowned as skilled hunters and fishermen, and those of the Nordur-Vatn are no exception, bravely rowing out into the deep, black sea to hunt the massive whales which make their home beneath the waves.

The Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn have a rich tapestry of legends which are passed in an oral tradition from generation to generation. These range from tales of horrifying creatures from the icy depths of the ocean which seek to cover the world in dead, grey, water, through to the legends of the mischievous Fox, an animal spirit considered to be an ill omen…”
- From A Treatise on the Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn.

Welcome to Session 4.4.

We had a short delay on starting as I engaged in a spot of ego-stroking. I just had to show off just how many readers we have. Naturally of course, the effect was spoiled by the fact that I had to spend over five minutes trying to bring it up.

The players started to build towers out of D10’s at some point. Ladyhawk’s was particularly impressive, 9 tall.

Anyway, with that out of the way, we got on with it.

The companions spend the next two days in the camp of the Resistance, which has been thrown into a little bit of unrest by the arrival of their rightful king. On the advice of Harrick Stonehammer, the old Dwergar godsman who first met them when they arrived, the companions have sequestered themselves away from prying eyes until a council meeting can be convened to determine Tremor’s motives and the Resistance’s stance towards him. They are joined in this by Aeva of the Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn, a Selkye woman from the Icebays of Norbayne.

Allow me to introduce our newest player, Delphoxie and her character, Aeva of the Northern Waters. Aeva is a quiet and rather eccentric young woman. She is primarily a Druid, but is multi-classed to Mesmer.

And she turns out to be very useful.

The camp has been pitched in and around an ancient settlement, set into the walls of a secluded valley. Many of the dwellings and chambers have been reclaimed by the Resistance, one of which has been given to the companions for their usage before the council meets. A wooden palisade has been set up at the mouth of the valley which is really a last line of defence.

As to the members of the Resistance, most are Dwergar, but some are Northmenn. The two races tend to keep to themselves. As a fellow outsider, Aeva gravitates towards the companions, but does not share what led to her presence in Nordtarnet.

When the companions leave the safety of their dwelling, they often notice forbidding stares and black looks from many of the populace. Of course many of these people are still struggling with the upheaval which has just taken place in their lives. Naturally, the companions therefore stay indoors as much as possible.

The companions spend their first few days amongst the Resistance resupplying. Harold sees to his equipment, spending a few coppers on upkeep. He and Breanna also take some time to continue bonding with Wolfgang and Bach, hoping that the marcwolves might soon be able to contribute in combat. Maebh, Kel’Serrar and Aeva spend their time listening to the rumours and general chatter of the peoples of the Resistance. Much of the information detailed below is due to their investigations. Tremor is reunited with Barandin, who counsels the companions to caution, at least until the council meeting. They spend much time deep in private conversation.

To the Resistance, the companions are basically Tremor’s retinue, with Tremor in command. To the Dwergar, political little bastards that they are, it is unfathomable that he might not be in charge. After all, the Dwergar exist to rise to the top.
“Well they do start at the very bottom.” – Dev, making short jokes.

There are four main powerbrokers in the Resistance.

The first, Ersun Blackbear:
- Dwergar, grim, scarred and heavily built with a thick black beard.
- The last of his line, ancestral rulers of Valewatch, the keep in the Valleywood.
- He was the first to rise up against Bain Ironfist, but Valewatch was stormed and he was captured. His wife and sons were put to death in front of him as a warning and Ersun was exiled as Bain, “Would not take the life of a noble lord.”
- Is likely to leave the Resistance if Valewatch is retaken. Valewatch is his stake. If they get it back, he’s got what he wants and is probably out.

The second, Freida Grimstone:
- Dwergar, short and fair-haired.
- Her father, lord Mordin Grimstone is held prisoner in The Crag.
- The Grimstones ruled The Crag until the rise of Bain Ironfist, who granted ownership of the keep to Orrin Windrider. The Windriders took over in a single night, Mordin was imprisoned and most of the Grimstone household slain.
- Freida seems mainly motivated by vengeance. She wants Bain dead more than anything else, or so it appears.

The third, Arald Redclay:
- Northmann, tall, dark haired.
- Elder brother of Theyne Balof Redclay of Lord’s Ridge, the family came to prominence due to high quality pottery.
- When Bain Ironfist came to power, Balof took the opportunity to murder his father and run his elder brother Arald out of town.
- Easy enough to depose when Arald is not a people person, being far more concerned with numbers and money.

The fourth, Harrick Stonehammer:
- Dwergar, elderly, grey haired and heavily built.
- Godsman of Nordtarnet Keep, essentially the most senior priest.
- When Godric Ironfist died, Harrick asked that Tremor be found to contest the succession.
- Bain didn’t like this and tried to have the old godsman executed, but Harrick managed to escape, stripped of office.
- It is rumoured though, that this escape was due to him using his brother as a decoy…
- Of all the powerbrokers, Harrick seems to be the most patriotic. It would appear that he just wants his position back.

The companions are invited to attend a council meeting in the evening, seeing as the meeting is intended to sort out what to do about Tremor. And so it is that the companions, plus Aeva, are having a quick chat in the afternoon before the meeting, discussing just what they know of the powerbrokers, and how to approach them. The mood is subdued, except Breanna, who is her usual cheerful self, rolling around with Bach and Wolfgang on the floor.
“In my opinion, Redclay and Stonehammer are the two we are not really sure of. Blackbear has defined goal.” – Kel’Serrar, lounging in an armchair. His features change subtly every few seconds, which is disconcerting at first, but they’re all used to it by now.
“Yeah, Ersun just wants Valewatch. That much is clear.” – Tremor, sitting at the dining table with a tankard of mead.
“Freida Grimstone, that’s just about vengeance apparently.” – Kel’Serrar.
“Also clear cut.” – Aeva, fiddling with the animal bits hanging from her belt.
“Arald Redclay…” – Tremor, knocking back his mead.
“His cards are far too close to his chest to tell.” – Kel’Serrar.
“You probably won’t have time to speak to more than two of them…” – Harold, sitting in the corner, sharpening a blade.
“Okay, well then I shall have to find Stonehammer and Redclay and find out what they want, but without asking them. That would be suspicious.” – Tremor, finishing his drink.
“I’m going to go out too and see if I can find out anything more.” – Kel’Serrar, getting up.
“I’ll come too.” – Maebh, eager to get out of the enclosed room.

Tremor leaves the rest of his companions in their abode and heads off to meet with Harrick Stonehammer first, the godsman being the most ambiguous figure as far as the companions are concerned.

A bit like Yoda, the players sense that the grey-bearded Harrick, who hobbles around on a cane might be a case of disability fraud. He looks like a man who has been forced out of a sedentary life very swiftly, and is too old to adapt comfortably. That being said, he is probably a lot stronger than he looks.

Tremor finds the white robed godsman in a reclaimed dwelling built into the valley walls. Harrick invites him in to speak and the two sit down at a small stone table. A young dwarf sets down two tankards of ale and leaves the room.
“So what can I do for you?” – Harrick Stonehammer, setting his cane against the table. A golden medallion, the symbol of his office,hangs around his neck and gleams in the firelight emanating from the hearth.
“Firstly, thank you for the ale. Secondly, what can you tell me about the formation of the Resistance?” – Tremor, cutting straight to the point.
“Well, Ersun Blackbear was the first lord your brother moved against. After he was rooted out of Valewatch, Blackbear took to the forest, trusting to the density of the Valleywood to protect him. From there, your brother’s actions caused many to abandon their homes and join Blackbear in the forest. Of course, those of noble clans didn’t much care to be under Blackbear’s control, and so they declared an alliance rather than vassalage. Blackbear’s troops are outnumbered by the refugees from other keeps, so he had to accept.” – Harrick, providing a political summary.

“And the last month? What have you been doing?” – Tremor, taking another mouthful of ale.
“Well we’ve just been surviving. The Sons of Wyre are a large and savage mercenary company who have been smashing their way through these woods to find us. So far the Butcher’s men have been unsuccessful, but it is only a matter of time.” – Harrick, grim.

“The expense of maintaining such a large mercenary company for such a period of time would be substantial. How is Bain affording it?” – Tremor, pondering.
“The Blackhand Mines, near The Crag. The silver from those mines is more than enough to pay for their services.” – Harrick.

“So what is the plan for this meeting tonight?” – Tremor.
“Well figuring out what to do with you for starters. Half of us want to name you king. The other half wants to murder you!” – Harrick, with a laugh.
“Great.” – Tremor, finishing his ale.
“The fact is lad, you were banished on pain of death for murder. Now the truth of that is something I do not particularly need to hear, but that is the fact of the matter at hand. Now you have two options the way I see it.” – Harrick, pausing for a drink.

“Option number one, you make yourself invaluable to the lords of the Resistance as a general, which I daresay you have the capability to do so. You do that and there is a lesser risk of someone wanting to stab you in the back, although you run a far greater risk of someone ordering you to get stabbed in the front.” – Harrick, who takes another drink and then launches into his second option.

“Option number two, well that’s the tricky one. Come in and shake things up. Put forward your name as Konungr and do your own little forceful takeover. No one has the power to **** on you from a great height this way, but the downside is that you’ll make enemies doing it, something your dear brother has been learning for a while now.”- Harrick, chuckling before draining the last of his ale.

“So you’re saying I have a choice in the matter?” – Tremor, standing up to leave.
“Of course you do lad, and you have maybe an hour to decide which one you’re going with. Now off you go, I have some choices of my own to make.” – Harrick.

Because this scene only involved one player, I summarised it quite a bit in-session. In hindsight, this was a mistake so I have expanded it to include a monologue from Harrick Stonehammer which was actually delivered by me out of character. Hopefully it will help everyone understand the character just a little better. Unfortunately he came across as pretty bland and generic on the day.

The pavilion of Arald Redclay is a large and ornate affair, which Tremor approaches in his typically gruff way.
“Halt! Who seeks audience with Lord Arald Reclay?” – Doorward, a young Northmann clad in a heavy chain hauberk and holding a halberd.
“Tremor Ironfist, king of these lands. Let me in.” – Tremor.
“Oh… Well, I guess you can come in then.” – Doorward, totally out of his depth.

Tremor is let in and his first impression is that the man before him wishes dearly the chair he is seated upon was a throne. Arald Redclay is tall, but has none of the bulk usually associated with Northmenn. He is rakish and dark haired, handsome but darkly so. He gives the surly Dwergar a small smile.
“Well, Tremor Ironfist… To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” – Arald Redclay.
“I need to know where you stand.” – Tremor.
“I’m sitting at the moment.” – Arald, the cutting response.
“Oh, so that’s how this is going to be.” – LD, laughing.
“What would it take to solidify your loyalty to me and the Resistance?” – Tremor, ignoring the jibe.
Arald is silent for a moment.
“Look, I want my city back. I want to be in a position that when I get my city back, I won’t be screwed by whoever is in charge and I want to get a good deal out of it.” – Arald, leaning forward.

“Sounds like a weasel.” – Ladyhawk.
“How so? He just wants what is rightfully his.” – Dev.
“He wants a good deal out of it. He wants what is his, and then wants to profit from the war. He’s a weasel.” – Ladyhawk.
“The way I see it, he wants what is his and he wants to do well out of that. If he wants to deal then he is willing to sacrifice, as long as he gets what he wants.” – Dev.
“As long as we don’t give him any dirt, that’s all I’m saying.” – Ladyhawk.
“I’ve got a jar of dirt, I’ve got a jar of dirt, and guess what’s inside it!” – Sins, singsong.

“If I make a play for The Crag, would you back that?” – Tremor.
“I would consider it. What would I get out of it?” – Arald.
“Well once we have The Crag we have a foothold and silver mines. We can use that to-“ – Tremor, to Arald’s wry grin.
“Ah, now that’s interesting. I want a cut of the mines.” – Arald.
“Course he does.” – Delphi.
“Help me get into power and I will see what I can do.” – Tremor.
“You expect me to hang my support on that? I couldn’t even hang my coat on it. I need something a little more solid than that. The fate of a kingdom and a rebellion hang in the balance and you are going to, ‘See what you can do?’ I don’t think so.” – Arald, laughing blackly.

“The mines belong to the Grimstones don’t they? Or are they just the mines under The Crag?” – Ladyhawk.
“The mines under The Crag do belong to the Grimstones, but these particular mines are outside the keep and belong to the Blackhand family, hence the name.”
“I have an idea. Why not use the mines as incentive for the lords to back you? Split ownership four ways. One part for each of the lords, the last for yourself.” – Dev.
“That means eradicating the Blackhands.” – Sins.
“That’s fine.” – Wings.
“Well ****.” – Ladyhawk.
“They’ve supported my brother for however long, providing silver for his mercenary armies. I don’t really care if we have to kill them all.” – Wings.
“Look at it this way though. Blackbear was the first to rise against your brother and he was the lord of an entire keep. He got smashed and his family executed right in front of him. These people are presumably not as powerful as Blackbear, but they don’t want that happening to them. They might not be evil, so to speak, just scared. That’s how regimes like this work.” – Ladyhawk.
“Fair enough, but it’s not in my race’s nature to think like that, let alone my character’s.” – Wings.

“You’ll get your cut Redclay. I’ll see you tonight and expect your support.” – Tremor.
Redclay inclines his head, and the Dwergar is ushered out.

Kel’Serrar and Maebh don’t exactly find anything else useful, but do enjoy their opportunity to get out from under the stone ceiling. They head back in when Tremor appears and the companions prepare themselves for the council meeting. Barandin comes to collect everyone, his armour polished to a high shine.

For their part, only Harold and Aeva have changed into gear more befitting the retinue of royalty, although this is probably because they are the only party members with a change of clothes. At least they did take the opportunity to bathe and clean themselves up a bit.

Before they leave, they have one more chat.
“So, Tremor, have you given any more thought to how you’re going to approach this? A lot rides on this meeting going smoothly cousin.” – Barandin.
“Well then, what does everyone think? Assert myself, or be subservient?” – Tremor.
“If it were me-“ – Maebh.
“We know what you would do. Anything that moves, you’d fireball it.” – Harold.
“I would bully them into submission.” – Maebh, ignoring the interruption.
“Aeva?” – Tremor.
“I’d assert myself. From what I can tell, dominance is key among your people.” – Aeva.
“Clan chiefs assassinate officials, kings assassinate clans.” – Kel’Serrar, being all mysterious again.
“Well it would seem that asserting yourself is the prevailing opinion, but I’m not sure if that’s the best plan just yet. I mean assert yourself to a point, and claim the kingship, but make sure that they know that you’re willing to make compromises to make the rebellion work.” – Harold.
“You can’t let them walk all over you though.” – Maebh.
“I’d listen to other people’s opinions though. You can see what they want and act on it.” – Aeva.
“You can assert yourself without being a **** though, that’s all I’m saying.” – Maebh.
“Breanna?” – Tremor, who notices the Leathe about to say something.
“Pretty much what Maebh said. Be assertive, not a ****.” – Breanna.
“You need to listen to what people have to contribute and then take that on, but the final decision should be yours, because if you let them determine the way all the time then you end up being their hound. And if you are the hound, then we are in serious trouble.” – Maebh.
“Be assertive, but not necessarily authoritative.” – Kel’Serrar.

* * *

Harrick Stonehammer convenes the meeting in a high-ceilinged chamber carved out from within the valley wall. A large stone table takes up the middle of the room. Around it sit the three other lords of the Resistance, with Harrick standing at one end. Behind the lords stand their retinues, bodyguards standing with weapons ready for their lords.

This leaves a number of spare seats, which Tremor, Maebh and Harold sink into gratefully, the Danann on Tremor’s left and Harold on his right.
“I’m a noble, **** ‘em.” – Dev.
“I’m the leader of this party, **** ‘em all.” – Ladyhawk.
“So three seated, the other three standing?”
“I’m missing. I’m just part of the crowd…” – Sins, mysteriously.
“You serious?”
“Why did you let him get that power? We hate you for it.” – Dev, to me.
“Because it’s useful.” – Sins.
“Yeah, but you don’t use the power for what it’s useful for! You just use it to screw with us!” – LD, laughing.
“That is what it is useful for…” – Sins.

“Moving on, I’m going to have to introduce you two before they kick you out.” – Wings, to Ladyhawk and Dev.
“It’s simple, leader of a band of mercenaries and raving lunatic dog-man.” – Sins, gesturing to Ladyhawk and Dev respectively.

“We need to discuss now where to strike. So far we’ve managed to avoid detection, but our luck cannot hold. We can’t remain on the defensive forever. As most of you know, our scouts do fine work killing any of the forces in the forest who come close to us, but every skirmish we have paints a clearer picture for Bain as to just where we are hiding.

Our agents are spread across Nordtarnet too. They are few, and only the most canny have survived this long.” – Harrick Stonehammer, addressing the gathering.

The companions get the feeling that most of that was for their benefit. Stonehammer sits down, and Ersun Blackbear stands and begins pacing around the room.

“I am descended from the lords of Valewatch, a mighty line which stretches back further than those most of the folk who are in this room. The blood which flows through my veins has ruled the Valleywood since time immemorial. Lord’s Ridge was built when my grandfather ruled in Valewatch. The first Stonehammer was a mason in the employ of my great-great grandfather. By the blood of my ancestors, my blood, have your families been able to prosper, growing rich off the trade of the Iceflow, or leeching gold in taxes from the mines. It is my blood which has been spilt to get this Resistance where it is today! And I request, no, I demand, that I be recompensed for it! Valewatch is mine, and I want it back!” – Ersun Blackbear, impassioned.

Harrick Stonehammer rolls his eyes. He has heard this before. Freida Grimstone then stands.

“And have not we sacrificed too? My father, from a line at least as old and storied as your own, languishes in the depths of his own dungeon. A dungeon beneath the most heavily fortified keep in these lands, save perhaps for Nordtarnet Fortress now that Ironfist has been working on it for years. We have bled too, but unlike Valewatch, Ersun, The Crag has a legitimate use for the Resistance as a stronghold. The Crag could weather a storm the likes of which would reduce Valewatch to ash. And that is where we must strike, to retake my home, liberate my father and then use The Crag as our own stronghold, where we need not hide, but instead launch our own attacks. And while we are at it, we’ll kill that bastard, Bain.” – Freida Grimstone.

Arald Redclay, lounging in his own stone chair does not stand.

“Naturally, I want my own home back. Lord’s Ridge would be valuable to the Resistance, but I understand that it is not viable as of yet. So therefore, on the condition that Lord’s Ridge will be considered a high priority, I throw my support behind Tremor Ironfist.” – Arald Redclay, with a wry smirk.

And that sets the crowd muttering. Neither Grimstone nor Blackbear look particularly happy with this turn of events, and all the retinues start to chatter amongst themselves.
“Traitor to his own kind, turning to a Northmann before his kin.” – One Dwergar near where Kel’Serrar stands disguised, not quite under his breath.
“How could he trust such a snake to hold to his agreement?” – Another Dwergar near Kel’Serrar.

“Quiet! Now we come to the other matter we must discuss. What to do, with Tremor Ironfist… In fact, why don’t you speak now Tremor? Lay your case before the council. What would you do if granted the mantle of kingship?” – Harrick Stonehammer.
“By the blood of my father, I am the rightful heir. I will personally see you all restored to your rightful positions and see that you are well compensated for your losses.” – Tremor.
This is met with general approval, with Redclay smirking in his chair. Blackbear stands once more, adding all of an inch to his height.
“But what will you do first? That is all well and good for a long-term plan, but what will you do now?” – Ersun Blackbear.
“I believe that The Crag should be our first point of attack, to liberate the Blackhand Mines, free Lord Grimstone and most importantly for me, my sister, who is currently there and by reports, being forced into an unwanted marriage. Once we have The Crag and the mines under and around it, we have a stronghold to strike from and access to the river.” – Tremor.

“That gives us mobility and the choice to be able to go south and strike from the river. We would be able to use the Iceflow to our advantage.” – Harold, who is given stern looks from the gathering.
“Ironfist, control your servant, please.” – Freida Grimstone.
“I am no servant! I am Harold Oakenshield, a reaver lord of Varr and a friend and ally of Lord Ironfist here. Do not mistake me for a mere swordbearer.” – Harold, angrily.

That cows the councillors enough for to allow him to speak, but Blackbear immediately jumps back onto attacking Tremor’s plans.

“The Crag is the most heavily defended fortress in these lands. How do you plan on taking a fortress built into the side of a mountain with the pathetic force at your disposal? Because I assure you, none of my troops will be joining you on this hare-brained scheme.” – Ersun Blackbear, incredulous.
“Using the abilities of my companions, I will take it using only a small number of men. We will be able to mount a surprise assault which I believe will be effective in gaining control.” – Tremor.
Blackbear grumbles and sits back down, for now cowed into submission.

"I still say that Valewatch should be our first target." - Ersun Blackbear, grumbling to himself.
"Valewatch will be our second target then. Once taken, you can keep forces coming from Borsa in the west busy while we take Lord's Ridge." - Tremor, suggesting an alternative.
Blackbear offers no more dissent.

As an aside, no one has any luck with pronouncing The Crag. The damned thing has around seven different names, including The Craig, which led to a picture of a mountain with a smiley face. LD suggests referring to it as the 'Big C.'

The council meeting has been a relative success. The companions have hardly made many friends, but at least for now all four lords are willing to work with them. Redclay and Grimstone both stand to directly gain from the immediate course of action and Stonehammer seems happy with the plan for a swift strike. Only Blackbear is put out by it all, but he is mollified for now. Of course part of that is due to him not seeing how Ironfist could be successful in taking The Crag, but obviously he hasn’t dealt with this band of lunatics before, or he would never doubt the outcome.

Discussion turns to the number and disposition of available troops.

I will briefly go into numbers here.
Blackbear - 200 skilled and heavily armed light infantry.
Grimstone - 300 levied and well-equipped heavy infantry.
Redclay - 400 levied and poorly equipped peasants and less than 50 archers and hunters.

The Valewatch dwarves are lightly armoured woodsmen armed with an assortment of axes, spears and swords.
The Crag dwarves are heavily armoured levies, armed with pikes and shields.
The Lord's Ridge Northmenn are poorly equipped with spears and shields. The hunters have an assortment of bows, crossbows and knives.

There are no magic users of note in the Resistance, although Dev does remind everyone that the Mountain Finches can be called upon to provide skilled archers.

I've condensed most of the planning process here for ease of reading because the conversation was hard enough to follow in person, let alone over the recording.

Delphi pointed out her ability to talk to animals, which led to discussing the weaponisation of the ability. As The Crag is within a mountain, that restricts the possible animals, but in the end that doesn't end up affecting Delphi's plan negatively...

The plan Tremor outlines meets with approving nods. There is a definite lack of belief around the table, but none are willing to gainsay the impassioned Tremor.

* * *

I’m going to try something new with this battle. Because it is such a huge set-piece battle, I’m going to include somewhat of a later historian’s account. Let me know what you think.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/The%20Crag_zps5teoo7f6.jpg

“It is the Thirteenth day of Sevenmonth,1648 CE when the party of Andin Grey-Hammer, a minor noble of Nordtarnet, entered The Crag through the southern gate. Though unnoticed on the day, a kite-hawk flew overhead through the great doors too. This would prove significant in the days to come…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

Upon entering the mountain fortress, Aeva swiftly finds that flying underground with no thermals is very tiring and lands somewhere inconspicuous. Moments later, a small black and white cat with piercing blue eyes emerges from the shadows, heading directly for the barracks.

“The garrison of The Crag was made up of approximately 2000 heavy infantry, loyal to the Bloodaxe and Windrider clans. These troops were very well-equipped, but unlike the usual standing forces of The Crag, not especially experienced. This is due to Bain Ironfist calling upon the mountain fortress to provide forces to put down a small insurrection in the south and further fortify Nordtarnet Fortress.

This led to a drafting of troops in The Crag, which resulted in a large number of inexperienced soldiers guarding the fortress at the time of the battle…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

“And how many of them can we make deathly ill in three days?” – Wings.
“How are you planning on making them ill?”
“Really, really, really bad Heal Checks.” – Sins.
“Poison sumac, right?”
“No, apparently that has a chance to heal them, and we can’t have that. No I expect Delphi can find some way to poison them.” – Wings.
“Rats, bats and automobiles. Just plague proportions.” – Delphi.
“She could keep releasing their pigs too. Make them tired from chasing the pigs and rats and stuff.” – Dev.
“What, and annoy them into leaving the fortress?” – Ladyhawk.
“It could work.” – Sins.
“I don’t care really, however she sees fit.” – Wings.
“With her boundless creativity.”
“Fear me, and my pigs. Fear me! I’m really scary.” – Delphi, almost pleadingly to Sins.

“Basically anything which disables as many guards as possible, bats dropping **** on them...” – Wings.
“Dropping **** on the guards? Sure, that’s annoying. You guys went from full-on Mission Impossible style siege to just having bats **** on everything.”
“Well guano is quite acidic.” – Wings.
“Yeah, bat-**** insane is a decent descriptor of this plan.”
“In our defence, they will not be expecting it.” – Delphi.
“No, no they won’t. Because how do you expect your day to come to this?”
“So we give them three days of that and then proceed with the plan.” – Wings, cheerful.
“Oh lord, give us thy guano.” – Sins.
“And The Lord did grin, and the people did bathe in bat ****.” – Quoting Monty Python.

“The Crag is an underground fortress of three habitable levels, built into the very rock of the Blackspine Mountains. Alongside the Iceflow River and beneath the edge of the mountain, sits the dock and a thriving market district. A short, beautifully carved tunnel leads to the city proper, a craftsman’s district and packed residential area and wide main streets, all of which lead a courtyard of white marble. In the centre of the courtyard sits a running fountain, a wonder of architecture fed by the Iceflow River. Before the fountain lies the palace of the Windriders, a massive structure, heavily fortified and draped with the black banners of the Windrider clan. The palace is so large it spans the habitable levels of the fortress.

Beneath it all lay the Grimstone Mines, a winding labyrinth, the supports in some places centuries old. The main products of the mines are silver, copper and iron, but the volcanic nature of the Blackspine Mountains have led to the discovery of diamonds deep in the rock.

The gates, though heavily fortified and solid stone, reinforced with iron, are not defended by siege weapons. This however is due to the fact that they are not required. The construction of the walls was devised in such a way as to prevent any from storming the walls, with only a slit high enough for a crossbowman on the ramparts to aim at approaching enemies. This also affords practical invulnerability to conventional ranged weaponry to the wall’s defenders.

The only way in would be to break the gates, thick stone which is operated by an ingenious device utilising the power of the Iceflow River itself. In previous times of strife, those inside would simply shut the gates and let the harsh conditions of the Blackspine defeat the besieging force for them. The proximity of the Iceflow River precludes any attempts to starve the defenders out, and the wealth of the rulers of The Crag allowed them to buy off any credible threats if necessary.

Until 1648, The Crag had never been in serious danger of being taken…”
- From The Wayfarer’s Companion: The Crag
“We are screwed… Let’s just get on with the plan…” – Dev.
“This is not a plan, this is a bat-astrophe.” – Sins.

Aeva, the small black and white cat, snoops around the city for the afternoon, taking in all the information she can on troop numbers and deployments, defences, alarm systems and strategic targets. All the while, a plan is formulating in her mind…

“As an underground fortress, the risk of cave-ins and other dangerous events was very high, despite the meticulous attention to detail of Dwergar craftsmen and miners. Small silver bells on iron posts lined the main streets, to be rung in times of emergency. This would attract runners to the site, who would take a message to the appropriate authorities, be that the guards or commander of the fortress…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

Breanna
Meanwhile, miles away, Breanna Blackrose has been engaged in soliciting aid from the Mountain Finches. They send her what few troops they can afford, what with the Sons of Wyre attacking them. Forty Leathe archers join the Resistance, to be led by Maebh Preachain-Eite in the siege.

Breanna notes that while the chief, Caober Snowtail is happy to lend the aid of his warriors, his brother, the shaman, Merrt, is less keen. He stands, scowling unpleasantly through the proceedings, and offers only the barest civility to Breanna throughout.
“Bitch please, I’m a psychotic, knife-wielding, daemon-strangling, magic-casting sociopath with a pet wolf. I will murder you.” – LD, summing up Breanna pretty well.

Aeva
The small cat enters the mines beneath The Crag, searching for a colony of bats. Upon finding them, she implores them to do her bidding.

And she is successful…
“To give everyone an idea of what just happened here-“
“You convince them to do your dirty business.” – Wings, to Delphi.
“A cute little black and white cat nonchalantly strolls through the underground fortress and mines, eventually coming to a massive cavern. Hanging from the ceiling are some gigantic bats, some with a wingspan of more than six feet… ‘Mraow!’ And the human part of your mind can understand it to some extent, and basically the bats are saying, ‘But it’s still day time, don’t get me up!’ but you persevere, and eventually through your cat-speak, and I can’t believe the words are coming out of me mouth.”
“Just imagine writing this later.” – LD, gleefully.
“I know, but I already managed the anthropomorphic turnip without throwing the computer away in disgust. How bad can this get?” – In hindsight, I shouldn’t have said this. Sins and Delphi took it as a challenge.

A storm of bats leave their cavern, ripping up into the upper levels of The Craig, The Creg, The Big C, and they let the Big C fly. They just let it rip.
“Essentially carpet-bombing the city?” – Wings.
It is indiscriminate fire, and it gets everywhere.
As an aside have you ever tried to get bat-**** off something, like your car? It’s awful, the stuff is stuck on there for weeks no matter how hard you try, and leaves a nasty orange kind of stain.
“So basically the cat went in, asked for help and the bats went, ‘Well, ****, eh?’” – Sins.
“Look at this, Delphi has been here for one session and the campaign’s already gone to ****.”
“Fear me, I’m scary!” – Delphi, who is starting to warrant the fear.
“Isn’t guano flammable?” – Dev.
“Now I know most crap is, but I’m not sure. It’s worth having a look.” – Looking up the flammability of guano on Google.
“What I love about this, is that now guano is in his search history.” – Sins.
“Well, would you look at that, guano was used historically in explosives due to its high nitrogen content.”
And so originated the plan to blow up parts of the city with fire and guano.

The cat wanders off with a smug little grin on her furry face, job done for the night. After all, she’s managed to convince the bats to continue their strafing run every night. The bats return to their roost, considerably lighter. Aeva has been so successful, that the bats may even continue their mission after the next three nights, as they actually rather enjoyed it.

So now The Crag is covered in ****, and explosive **** at that.

Back soon guys,

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-05, 10:02 AM
And here we are again. :smallsmile:

“Thanks to the unorthodox tactics of The Resistance, the defenders of The Crag found themselves in a poor position to combat the coming siege…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict
“Have we forced the surrender yet? Can we rock up to the gates, ‘Do you want the **** to stop?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Then open your gates and surrender!’” – Dev.
“We will turn your water to blood and your skies to ****.”
“This got really out of hand, really quickly…” – Delphi.
“This is a high level campaign now…”
“I don’t think the problem here is what is coming out of hand, but rather what is coming out of other places…” – Sins.

“The plans of the Resistance required the presence of a handful of insurgents already on the inside by the time of the storm …”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

Kel’Serrar is able to change the appearance of Tremor, Breanna and a few Resistance fighters, getting them into the city as part of a refugee party. The disguise only lasts a few hours, but that is all that is needed for the two companions and their small party of dwarves to get in. Once inside, Tremor and Breanna focus on just staying out of sight. They are joined shortly by Aeva, who tracks them down by scent. She then changes her form into the shape of a hawk and sits upon Tremor’s shoulder.

Then they wait for the dawn of the third day, the time that the assault is scheduled to begin.

* * *

“Historians disagree on just what caused the devastation at the West Gate of The Crag on the morning of the Seventeenth day of Sevenmonth. Eyewitness accounts from the battle there, report a single mage raining death and destruction, while others suggest a small force of elite archers laid waste to the fortifications. Naturally these reports must be taken with some degree of scepticism, as the damage wrought upon the West Gate appears far too extensive to be the work of a single mage…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

A single figure, clad in grey wool and brown leathers, a black wolf-fur coat and a deep hood shrouding her features approaches the West Gate, nothing but a spear in hand.
“Halt! Who goes there!?” – Commander of the West Gate.
Above, the grey sky darkens, storm clouds scudding across the dawn.
And the hidden Mountain Finch archers take that opportunity to loose their arrows.

That first volley of arrows is terrifying to the inexperienced troops defending The Crag and they take cover as quickly as they can from their unseen assailants. The rock walls of the mountain fortress afford them great protection, and only very few arrows find their target from such range.

But that wasn’t the goal of the volley.

As soon as the last arrow pings off the stone, Maebh hurls a golden lightning bolt from the sky, pounding the entire mountain with her fury. And this continues for an entire hour, over ninety bolts of lightning smashing the western walls with the force of a god. Between each lightning bolt, the Leathe archers, which have run much closer to the walls, shoot at any guard who raises their head above the parapet.

After an hour of this, the gates are a blackened and cracked mess, the heat of the constant lightning bolts having melted the very rock in places. Some few lightning bolts were directed at the gap in the wall, frying any guards there. Burnt and crispy bodies are strewn across the top of the wall, lying atop shattered stone. By the end of the hour, all the surviving guards have left the immediate area.
“Those guardsmen were just trying to feed their families! How do you feel now?” – Dev, trying to make Ladyhawk feel bad.
“Hehehehe” – Ladyhawk, chuckling.
“She feels like frying a few more and their families.” – LD.

The silver bells are not rung, but then the golden lightning storm raging outside for an hour is hard to miss.

No casualties are recorded by the Resistance among the Mountain Finches. They help the drained Maebh away from the field to rest.

* * *

“The constant warfare to the south and skirmishes and raids in the Valleywood and the foothills of the Blackspine led to a constant influx of refugees into The Crag. Tremor Ironfist’s insurgents used this to their advantage, hiding amongst the refugees and taking shelter in one of the hastily erected shacks in the refugee districts…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

Breanna, Tremor and Aeva:
Outside the little shack the companions have taken over for their own personal use, a runner can be seen. He is clad in very light clothing, despite the chilly weather, and is easy to tell apart from the crowd by both his blue uniform and his short, trimmed beard. He stops at a bell and rings it quickly before running on again.

“As soon as he reaches the Palace, he’s going to blow the Great Horn. And once that happens, the garrison will be in full force.” – Tremor.
“So, we need to take him out?” – Breanna, readying her knives.
“No, we want them leaving the barracks and South Gate as much as possible. Maebh’s attack is only a diversion. No, we just need to delay him while we cut down the bells.” – Tremor.

“I could swoop him, and dent his skull. Ca-caw!” – Delphi.
“Bird Attack Simulator…” – Dev.
“I’d buy that.” – It’s true, I certainly would.
“I should have picked goat as one of my animals.” – Delphi.
“I want the Goat Simulator too.” – Again, the truth.
“I have it on Steam. It’s greatly entertaining, but after a couple of hours your start to question what you’re doing with your life.” – Delphi.

“Anyway, back to the runner, what are you going to do?”
“… I’m going to poop on him.” – Delphi.
“Yeah?”
“Why not?” – Delphi.
“Why not indeed. Okay, Ballistic Skill Check, see if you hit.”
“You’re going to have her roll for this?” – Dev, astonished.
“Of course, have to see if she hits. It’s not easy. Seagulls get a bonus.”
“What about pigeons?” – Dev.
“Rapid fire, you get two shots.”

A strange kite-hawk flies overhead, the shadow (Don’t forget those windows in the mountain letting air and light in. See, not an error!) of which passes over the runner’s head. He looks up.

That was his first mistake. The poor dwarf had already lost a hand in a torch and guano-fuelled explosion, and now has to struggle to wipe the raptor excrement from his face. He gags and retches, before continuing his trip.

Trying to keep out of sight, the insurgents break cover, sprinting up and down the main streets and cutting the clappers from the bells. Tremor and Breanna observe the process, swiftly joined by Aeva who takes her now customary position, perched on Tremor’s shoulder.

And then they hear the horn-blast, three great long notes which ring throughout the mountain, calling the garrison to muster at the West Gate. Within minutes, guards are stirring in the barracks, forming up on the main street and in the courtyard just inside the South Gate.

To get to the West Gate, those troops must pass the insurgents on the road, catching them in the act of cutting down the last of the bells. Over two hundred heavy infantry are now converging on the approximately thirty insurgents, the others making for the West Gate as fast as they can.
“What are you fellows doing?” – A guardsman.
One of Tremor’s dwarves takes the initiative and knifes him before his shouting draws more attention, but it is too late. Too many have seen the insurgents at their clandestine work.
“Aeva, I need you to tell Harold and Kel to be ready.” – Tremor, quietly to Aeva.
The kite-hawk takes to the air and perches on the roof of a house overlooking the battle at the gate as Tremor and Breanna wade into the scrape.
“You two need to be ready. We’re in the process of clearing you a path, but things are getting a bit bloody in here.” – Aeva’s Whispering Wind to Harold and Kel’Serrar.

Harold and Kel’Serrar:
“Can you see any crossbowmen or bolt throwers on the walls?” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar.
The two companions stand side by side outside the South Gate, at the head of a force three hundred strong, made up of dwarves loyal to Freida Grimstone and Northmenn loyal to Arald Redclay.
“No, there doesn’t look like there’s anyone up there anymore.” – Kel’Serrar. Truly, the guards on the South Wall left it when the Great Horn rang.
“Let’s look at scaling it then, if we can.” – Harold, hoping his forces can squeeze their way through the tiny gap at the top of the wall.
“We have so many dwarves, are you sure we can’t just throw them at the gates until they crack open?” – Dev.
“These gates make Minas Tirith’s look like papier-mache.”
“You underestimate the number of dwarves we have.” – Sins.

Breanna, Tremor and Aeva:
Breanna darts through the fray, knives flashing. She takes three guards down in a matter of seconds and Tremor follows her, putting down another two. Aeva flies down once more, perching on Tremor’s shoulder and hits a half-score of the guards with a snare.
“I’ve only got them for a few moments.” – Aeva, straining with the effort.
Naturally, one second Breanna stands beside Tremor, grinning at the carnage. The next, she is happily dancing through her helpless foes. Nine guards fall, lifeless, to the ground, leaving only one for Tremor to cut down.

The other insurgents take heart at this and surge forward, hacking and stabbing at the bewildered guards. Almost fifty of the defenders have died in the last minute, the companions and their strike force having taken a horrible toll in lives.
“Caw caw mother****ers.” – Delphi.
Aeva unleashes another blast of paralysing magic, catching another half-score in the snare, which Breanna butchers mercilessly. A handful of the insurgents dart into the gatehouse to open the gates for Harold and Kel’Serrar outside, while the rest hold off the rest of the guards with Tremor, Breanna and Aeva.

Harold and Kel’Serrar:
Observing the efforts of the erstwhile climbers gives the two companions a bit of a laugh. Of the many grappling hooks which are thrown, only a small handful manages to cling to the ramparts. By the time the ropes are secured and the climbers ready to ascend, the great gates have begun to slowly grind open. Most of the troops drop the ropes, readying themselves to charge into The Crag and the teeth of their enemy, although two dwarves stubbornly decide that they are halfway up, they might as well continue, and keep climbing.

Those two climbers are never seen again. Being Dwergar, it is most likely that their rivals scaled the wall from the inside and cut the ropes as they were climbing to the top. But no one will ever know, and it is not particularly important to our tale.

The arrival of the Grimstone and Redclay reinforcements under Harold and Kel’Serrar break the defenders and they flee to the east, to the docks. Unfortunately, at least half of the original insurgents have fallen.

Tremor wanders from corpse to corpse, imbuing a handful of them with unholy life. The undead creatures gather up body parts left over from Breanna’s rampage, creating a small menagerie of awful, awful creations, a hand with only a head attached here, a torso with two sets of arms and a partially severed head there. All of them clearly want to eat Tremor and his friends, but they are too firmly bound by the engineer’s will. He directs them after the fleeing guards and towards the tunnel leading to the docks, stalking after them with a horrified, but intrigued, Aeva on his shoulder.

The Dwergar of the Resistance generally turn a blind eye to the desecration of dwarf-kind Tremor is perpetrating here. As it happens, Dwergar aren’t really against Black Magic, not like Midlanders are for instance. It just makes you a bit like Uncle Mort. Redclay’s Northmenn are horrified, but no one really cares about them anyway, right?

Breanna, Harold and Tremor:
The three companions, after watching Tremor stalk away with his vile creations, decide to take advantage of the guano everywhere, particularly its explosive potential. They head directly to the richest houses they can find, a district just outside the Windrider Palace. And then they do their best to level the place, cracking stone buildings with exploding bat-****.

Now I know, I know, this is not really how guano works, but they were having such fun that I figured that Norbayne bats are special, particularly these giant species. For starters, we are talking a much large amount per dropping thanks to the creatures’ sheer size. The guano is in concentrated amounts thanks to Aeva’s request. And being such a large and completely fictional creature, its excrement contains enough nitrogen to cause the following explosion to be feasible.

If my players want to use bat **** to blow up a city, how can I refuse them?

In addition to this, I ramped the explosion size up due to the rolls I got from them. Out of a possible 300, they scored 294, which I decided was more than enough to explain why they got such a fantastic result.

The companions efforts lead to the noble district going down in a shower of rock-dust and a massive flaming bat-fart. The section of the mines beneath the district has been caved in. In fact, part of the third level has been deposited in the mines.
“Operation Burn-ination has been a success.”

Tremor and Aeva:
Tremor, having chased the fleeing guardsmen into the markets alongside the docks, has a brilliant idea. Watching the routed guards from the South Gate join up with the, as yet fully-manned, Dock Guards, he sets his undead monstrosities in a line stretching across the access tunnel between the docks and the city proper, and starts to draw on even more Black Magic.
“What are you doing?” – Aeva, concerned.
Tremor doesn’t reply, but a moment later the answer becomes clear.
The corpses explode with a blast of sickly green light. The explosions are not prodigious, but are more than enough to cause the tunnel to cave in, separating the main body of the remaining guards from the rest of the fortress.
“There, that will take hours, if not days without the proper equipment.” – Tremor, to Aeva.
“Weren’t we planning to take this place over?” – Delphi.
“Yeah, that was the plan.” – Wings.
“Then why are we blowing it to ****?” – Delphi.
“New plan.” – LD.
“Us doing this is retaliation for completing a quest without killing anybody.” – Sins.
“You kidding me? You finish a quest without killing someone, and your compensation is, ‘**** people, let’s kill a goddamn mountain?’”

“The commander of the Crag at the time of the battle was Orrin Windrider, a former comrade of Tremor Ironfist in the Nordtarnet Border Wars with Rivervind in 1638 CE. HIs subordinates were Leeroy Bloodaxe, captain of the guard and Edrik Blackhand, head of that clan, who was married to Marya Ironfist in exchange for the use of the Blackhand Mines…”
- From The Definitive Guide to the Ironfist Conflict

Breanna, Harold and Tremor:
Having caused a fair bit of destruction, the three companions approach the Windrider Palace. Their forces have set up a number of chokepoints on the main street to head off any defenders returning from the West Gate to relieve those within the palace, leaving only the three companions to face off against the lords of The Crag and their retainers. Coming out of the front doors is a party of grim, heavily built and well-equipped dwarves, a lord and his huscarls.
“My name is Harold Oakenshield, and we have just finished blowing up your nobles’ district and setting fire to stone. Lay down your arms and surrender.” – Harold, trying to Intimidate them into backing down.
The idea of a vicious pirate-viking type with the technical know-how to set fire to stone is pretty terrifying, and the huscarls look like they might be wavering but their lord’s voice steadies them.
“Set fire to stone says you? Set fire to MY stone says I! We do not surrender to the likes of you.” – Lord Leeroy Bloodaxe.

I’ve experimented recently with having the players provide names on the fly for inconsequential NPC’s, to avoid them all feeling the same, and if I’m honest, to help me out because coming up with names on the fly can be tough.

In hindsight, LD is the last person I should ask for a name. It takes half an hour to get a decision from her, and we still end up with Leeroy the dwarf…

The heavily muscled, red-bearded Dwergar charges forward with his greataxe, trading blows with Harold for a moment before Kel’Serrar blows his head off with a Flaming Arrow.

Breanna, carving knife in hand whirls into action, slamming it into a huscarl’s arm. He swipes at the Leathe in retaliation, but fails to connect and the Leathe leaps back.

“Your lord is decapitated! Do you wish to be decapitated too?” - Harold, attempting to intimidate the huscarls once more. They bunch up, shields out and weapons brandished, but these are the very elites of the Bloodaxe clan. They are well-equipped, highly disciplined heavy infantry and will not be cowed easily.
"Seriously, throw down your arms!" - Harold, desperately pleading with them not to sacrifice themselves.
They refuse and Kel'Serrar looses another arrow, which blows off a huscarl's arm. A moment later, Breanna dances back into the fray, whipping her blade across the throat of the huscarl she injured earlier.
And then Tremor steps forward, having made his way to the scene, putting himself directly in harm's way. Behind him, Aeva settles herself on Harold's shoulder, and watches the face-off.
"I am Tremor Ironfist, the rightful king of Nordtarnet. Lay down your arms, or lay down your lives." - Tremor, meeting the eyes of the remaining huscarls.

The huscarls have not had a great week. They've had to deal with all the guano everywhere for starters. Then the early morning assault has had the entire fortress on guard. Then they failed in their duty and had their lord decapitated in front of them. And now they are being told that they aren't even fighting for the rightful king.

They drop their weapons, save one, who fancies the idea of being a regicide.
"Death to the pretender!" - Huscarl, who hacks at Tremor's right arm with his axe.
The blade bites into Tremor's chain hauberk sleeve, inflicting a nasty flesh wound. Aeva flies at the huscarl in an attempt at retaliation, but her talons just scrabble at the huscarl's steel helm.

"Dev, you're up."
"Meh, I'll just put my sword through him." - Dev, preparing to roll.
"You've got Deathsword and these huscarls have a lower Combat Skill than you do. You could potentially put a sword through all of them."
"Yeah, but..." - Dev.
"But they've surrendered? Hasn't stopped you in the past mate. Look, their weapons are right in front of them. They might pick them up and attack. Better safe than sorry."

Harold's sabre punches through the huscarl's chest and the dwarf slips to the ground.

And so Clan Bloodaxe is no longer an issue for the attackers. Their lord's head has exploded, along with their ancestral home, thanks to guano. The remaining huscarls are taken into custody by the invading forces, and the companions make their way up the stairs to the palace. Before they go, Tremor questions the huscarls.
“Windrider, Blackhand and my sister. Where are they?” – Tremor, ready to move out.
“Edrik Blackhand was supervising the mines. Lord Windrider is in the palace, with Marya.” – Vanquished huscarl.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/The%20Palace%20of%20The%20Crag_zpsnujuiphj.jpg

Once the huscarls are taken away, Tremor quickly consults with his companions.
“Which way do we go?” – Tremor.
“Blackhand may have died in the cave in for all we know. Even if he didn’t, it could take days to get in there to find out.” – Harold.
“The Palace, now. We can’t afford to let Windrider escape either.” – Kel’Serrar.

They walk up the stairs at the front of the palace wary of attack. Tremor leads them, Aeva having taken a moment to pad his ripped arm with bandages before resting as a kite-hawk back on his other shoulder. Harold comes next, sabre in hand, Breanna and Kel’Serrar flanking him with blades and bow ready. Maebh has entered The Crag with the reserve forces, overseeing the mop-up of the remaining defenders. She is slowly making her way to the Windrider Palace, but will not get there by the time the other companions have entered.

We had a short break here as Ladyhawk presented us with some seriously spiffy headgear. Unfortunately, she was not feeling too flash on the day and had to go lie down at a few points. To her credit though, she really did try to contribute where she could, and once back at the table, took her character’s absence as an opportunity to help build some player camaraderie.

Hence the crowns.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/IMG_0653_zpsatqt7oyu.jpg

I took the opportunity to explain how the Mesmer spell, Cruel Disappointment works.
“Basically you believe you pass any Checks you might be called on to make for a short period of time. Even if you failed. Which can lead to all sorts of hilarious situations like you thinking you are murdering your bastard half-brother, but then you snap back to reality and realise you have been stabbing yourself in the leg for the last minute and a half and your half-brother is over in the corner laughing at you.”

Honestly, I can’t wait for Sins or Delphi to take that one. It should be great.

Upon entering the palace, the companions storm down a long, richly decorated hallway. But they spend no time taking it in as they are intent upon their prize. Before them is another doorway, which Harold busts open, revealing an entrance hall and throne room.

It is empty.

"It's a trap." - Delphi.

The throne room has two more doorways, one on either side. Tremor, Aeva and Breanna take the left doorway and Harold and Kel'Serrar the other.

Harold and Kel'Serrar:
Before the two companions stretches a long hallway, with rooms off to either side. It appears to be a guest wing or perhaps servants quarters.

Tremor, Aeva and Breanna:
The companions open the door and reveal a dining hall, with a high table for the lord of the hall on the right. Straight ahead, a lit hearth, the flames flickering fitfully. Someone has been here recently. To their left, three long dining tables, bare of everything save candlesticks, which are probably lit for feasts and other stately events. Beyond the tables, a closed wooden door.

The companions approach the door, Tremor first with Aeva on his shoulder, Breanna trailing them. The Dwergar pushes it open and reveals a large, cavernous room, tapestries and ancient weaponry decorating the walls.

And there, standing in the middle of the room is Orrin Windrider, looking much the same as Tremor remembers him, clad in his ancestral plate armour. Around him, ten huscarls, heavily armed and armoured. Beside them, a single grey-robed Dwergar, surrounded by a glowing nimbus of lightning.

“Found the bastard!” – Tremor, to Harold and Kel’Serrar.
“Ironfist! What are you doing here?” – Windrider, who doesn’t seem to view Tremor as much of a friend anymore.
“Reclaiming my throne.” – Tremor.
“Get out Ironfist, this is my throne.” – Windrider.
“Not for long.” – Tremor, hefting his greatsword.

Windrider throws himself at Tremor, flaming axe and rune-inscribed shield clenched in his meaty fists. Tremor rolls away from the strike, Aeva fluttering a little to retain her seat.

The Dwergar mage flings lightning at Breanna, but the Leathe is able to shrug it off with a pained groan.
“My God, you would be the biggest puff-ball ever.” – Ladyhawk.
“I am the Fluffy Queen of Death.” – LD.

Harold bursts through the doorway, having been alerted by Tremor’s shout and engages the huscarls with his blades. He holds most of them off from his companions, but one manages to sneak through and take a swing at Breanna, who flips out of the way.

Tremor takes a quick glance at Windrider’s shield and identifies the runes upon it as ones of protection. Doing so gives him an idea, and he activates the Silver Arrow runes on his greatsword, flinging streams of molten silver at Windrider and a couple of huscarls. One guard gets his shield up in time, the other gives a hoarse scream as the molten metal seeps into the gaps of his armour.

But the three molten darts which slip through the air towards Windrider are ineffective as the runes on the lord’s shield blaze with a cold blue light. Wards appear etched in the air before him, and the magical silver is sucked into it, brightening the cold light of the runes.

Kel’Serrar stands by the doorway and nocks an arrow, taking careful aim across the room at the mage…

Breanna meanwhile dances back into the fray, knife flashing in her attempt to shank him in the kneecap. Blood spurts as she withdraws her knife, but the huscarl doesn’t fall.

From her vantage point on Tremor’s shoulder, Aeva is able to catch most of the enemy force in her Magical Snare, though Windrider, the mage, the huscarl facing Breanna and two of the huscarls facing Harold resist the effects.

And then the back wall explodes in a blast of flame, chunks of stone flying out, threatening to crush the combatants in the room. Maebh strides in, looking haggard and worn, but her hands are blazing with arcane power. She stretches herself to the limit of what is safe and with a flash of light, a handful of golden blades materialise around the Dwergar mage, eviscerating him completely.
“I thought I would still be needed.” – Maebh, quietly.
The Danann slumps against the wall, exhausted by the sheer weight of arcane destruction she has caused today.

Windrider throws himself at Tremor again, axe blazing through the air. It is met by Tremor’s blade, which rings, but holds steady.

Harold carves his way through the huscarls, blades flashing as he whirls his way into the dwarves. Only one survives his assault, backing away steadily from the Invarrian’s bloodbath. Carried by the momentum, Harold strikes at Windrider too, but the runes upon the lord’s shield flare into life once more, protecting him from the Invarrian’s vengeful blades.

The hobbled huscarl facing Breanna again swings at her, but the nimble Leathe dodges out of the way once more, before flicking her knife across the guard’s throat, killing him instantly.

And then Kel’Serrar’s Flaming Arrow bursts through the wards surrounding Lord Windrider, killing the cold light of the runes and setting the lord’s beard alight. The arrow itself merely skates of Windrider’s armour, but he is too concerned with trying to kill Tremor to worry about it. He charges forward, flailing wildly, but only meets Tremor’s greatsword.

Orrin Windrider is decapitated. The last huscarl throws down his blade.

It is done. The Crag has been taken. Orrin Windrider is dead and hopefully, Marya Ironfist has been saved.

This isn’t the end of Session 4.4, but due to the massive size, I have decided to split the session into two parts for ease of reading.

The Wrap-Up
Dev said early on that he has friends at his college who want to hear our sessions in a podcast, but I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to do that.

We used this session to trial a couple of changes. Some complaints were made that the caster classes were too powerful, which is something which plagues most systems. To help try to remedy this, we brought in the Soulfire stat, which is basically a magic-points tracker. In exchange for that limitation, there’s now some crazy huge spells.

Health now goes up at a fixed rate, at 1 point every two levels. Some classes have Talents which adjust this rate. This is to prevent some characters from becoming mountains of health. Even at high levels, characters should still be vulnerable.

The last real change was just enforcing the action economy changes I devised some time ago.

That ought to cover this particular write-up for now.

Until next time,

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-13, 08:01 AM
Ladyhawk and I played the first session of a solo game tonight set in Norbayne. Stay tuned for In the Depths of the Rayncrann Forest...

Along with Session 4.4: Part B of 3 Coins.

In addition to all that material we also have Session 4.5 of 3 Coins and 1.2 of Whispers due to be played on the 23rd.

So do stay vigilant readers! As always, we'd love to see comments letting us know that these are appreciated. :smallsmile:

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-13, 08:39 AM
Into The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest

Welcome, dear reader to the first instalment In The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest, a solo game that I am going to run for Ladyhawk.

She pitched her idea to me as a game where she focussed on a series of much smaller scale events than the 3 Coins group and had access to a sandbox in the forest. A major theme was that her character was at odds with the civilised world.

And so Lily Roisin was born.

This game is an interesting one. I have dispensed with a lot of the Checks, focussing instead on cultivating Ladyhawk's creativity. I am less concerned with the mechanics in this adventure, and more with the idea of cinematic roleplaying.

So I will now introduce Lily Roisin.


Name: Lily Roisin (Ro-sheen)
Race: Midlander (Woodsman / Half-Fey)
The people of Norbayne are a strong race, tough and adaptable. Compared to the Northmenn of Unterguardt, they are quite slim and stocky, built more like wolves than the northern bears. They are the most populous race in the known world and most cities have at least a small Midlander population. They are almost universally of pale complexion and dark haired, with sharp angular features. Their hair is usually worn long while facial hair is neatly trimmed.

Age: 22 years old. Lily is considered to be entering the prime years for adventuring.
Eye Colour: Piercing green eyes.
Hair Colour: Long, wavy golden hair.
Birthsign: The Hare.
There is ingenuity around those born under the Hare, a kind-heartedness, which unfortunately is sometimes played upon by others for their advantage. Despite this, most Hares find cynicism a foreign concept.
Generally creative, Hares are also often delicate and shy, happy to allow others to take the glory but are fully capable of standing up when necessary.

Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 68 kg

Lily usually wears a long green dress, but her home, Rosehollow, a dwelling coaxed into existence from the very centre of a hollowed out great oak, holds several other outfits, including one particularly expensive gown for special occasions when she must deign to mingle with other people.

When performing her duties in the Rayncrann Forest, Lily usually wears her green dress with a light leather jacket over the top, high, well-worn leather boots and a belt, from which hangs a slightly curved knife and several pouches filled with spell components.

When winter comes, the light leather jacket is replaced by a much heavier hide coat and a warm fur cloak and hat.

She owns an expensive silverwood staff too, carved by her own hand, but it usually remains in Rosehollow.

A lion fang is strung around her neck, infused with potent spirit magic, the only remains of a ghul-ish forest-lion Lily struck down some years ago after it was tainted. In times of need, Lily may call upon this power, whether just to lend her strength or heightened senses, or indeed the very shape of a massive forest-lion. Lily also carries the components to take the form of a hawk, a squirrel, a horse or a dog.

Lily is accompanied the majority of the time by her familiar, a red fox named Pixy.

Lily is not entirely sure of her own past, but believes herself a foundling as her first memories are hazy ones of being raised amongst the fey. She does not remember much of those years, just snippets here and there.

That being said, she feels a duty towards the safety of the forest and its denizens and has taken the Rayncrann Forest as her home.

That will probably do for the prelude. On to the story!

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-19, 11:24 AM
Session 4.4 (b): Flying Shadows and a Night of Knives

Welcome back everyone to Session 4.4.

We took a break here for dinner, chats and snacks. And then unfortunately missed Delphi’s care-bear reference with regards to the loot picked up by the characters.

Oh yes! The loot!

Harold Oakenshield:
- A Masterwork steel cuirass, with a runic sunburst inscribed on the chest. The runes are currently not functional. Engraved with Runes of Stone and Blinding Light. Provides an additional +1 to all armour values and has a chance to Blind opponents upon being struck.

Maebh Raven-Wing:
- A dull red sash, embroidered with magical sigils along the edges in gold thread. Provides +15 Soulfire to the wearer.

Breanna Blackrose:
- Rune-encrusted light helm, made of leather and banded with steel. Engraved with a Rune of Perception, providing +10 to Perception to the wearer.

Kel’Serrar Naya:
- Ring of True-Sight. The wearer is able to see through magical illusions. Sins chose to have Kel’Serrar raid the Windrider Palace for jewellery, and found a fair few pieces which could be sold on for a substantial price. Amongst it all, he found a Ring of True-Sight, which he kept.

Tremor Ironfist:
- The Windrider axe, a heavy hand axe of Masterwork quality engraved with a Rune of Fire and a Masterwork quality steel shield, engraved with Runes of Warding. The equipment of Orrin Windrider, this is Tremor claiming his legitimacy. The axe adds Fire Damage to every strike and the shield, when repaired, soaks D10 Damage from each strike the bearer takes. Once the soak is beaten, the runes fall lifeless and must be recharged once more.

Aeva Nordur-Vatn:
- The Vampyre spear, named after the haematophagic creatures of legend and a thick leather belt engraved with a Rune of Speed. The spear drains Soulfire from those it strikes, equal to the Damage the strike causes and the belt grants the wearer +5 Initiative.

I pointed to everyone as I recapped what they got, which was pointless because I couldn’t see myself pointing in the audio recording anyway. Luckily, I wrote it all down.

The days after the taking of The Crag pass busily. Marya is found in the highest levels of the Windrider Palace, alive and apparently unharmed. Physically, she is well but mentally she seems broken. She speaks to no one, a far cry from the spirited girl Tremor left behind all those years ago.

Of Edrik Blackhand, none can say. The miners who have been recovered from the cave-ins confirmed that he was down there with them, but he never emerged. That being said, many miners and guards were killed in the assault, the bodies unable to be recovered and it is possible that Blackhand was amongst them.

The mood is sombre. The army the companions have with them is still greatly outnumbered by the defenders, but without their lords, the common people have lost the will to fight.

In fact, the Resistance plans to use them in the upcoming conflicts. The Crag may be taken, but it is only one fortress after all and the war goes on.

Mordin Grimstone was found in the dungeons, alive, but weak. He is taken to a wing of the palace to recover from his captivity, the Dwergar unwilling to let outsiders see their lord so weak.

* * *

Three days after the taking of The Crag, at dawn, a procession arrives at the south gate. Freida Grimstone leads the procession, at the head of her personal forces. The other lords of the Resistance flank her, also accompanied by their retinues. Next to the heavily armoured dwarves of The Crag march hastily equipped militia from Lord’s Ridge and hardy woods-dwarves from the Valleywood.

Along the main road leading to the ‘Windrider’ Palace, Harold has organised an honour guard evenly made up of the Resistance forces which took the fortress and the defenders of The Crag who stood against them, in a show of solidarity.

Harold notices that the lords of the Resistance appear to be quite disconcerted at the fact that the noble dwellings close to the Palace have been replaced by a noble hole in the ground. The companions have gotten work crews in to try and clear the mess, but it’s not done much good.
It was almost like sliding the trash under the bed and putting a sign up which reads, ‘Do Not Approach.’
Let’s be honest, the nobles aren’t too happy about the massive hole in the ground. The companions’ clean up job involved the application of a plank-
“Several planks!” – Delphi, like that makes it better.
The application of several planks almost like a band-aid across the gaping wound in the earth.

This goes down about as well as you would expect…

Most of the companions wait for the procession in the throne room, Tremor, Barandin and Maebh standing on the stairs leading to the throne. Kel’Serrar is hidden in the corner of the room and Breanna and Aeva are standing at a respectful distance flanking the throne.

The errand-runner Tremor sent to have Mordin Grimstone fetched to present to his daughter returns, without the lord.
“I am sorry Lord Ironfist. I was halted at the door by Grimstone soldiers who told me that Lord Mordin is missing. I came as quickly as I could.” – Errand-runner, catching his breath.
“****.” – Tremor, facepalming.
“Freida probably had him killed. Dwarves, remember?” – Dev.
“She killed Papa!” – Ladyhawk, in an Italian accent.
Ladyhawk and LD spent most of the rest of the night cracking up about this line.
“Don’t be upset-y, have some spaghetti.” – Delphi, in the same accent.

This is another five minutes of discussion regarding where they want to stand. Or in Ladyhawk’s case, well…
“I want to sit in the throne.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“No, you can’t do that.” – Dev, frustrated.
“Well she can, but it would be highly advised against.” – Sins.
“In that case I’ll stand on the stairs too with Tremor. No, one step behind Tremor, so I look more imposing.” – Ladyhawk.
“You could sit on the floor in front of him and look more imposing.” – Sins.
“You could sit in the throne and look more imposing. And I’ll sit next to you on a little mini-throne and throw accusations. ‘You killed Papa!’” – LD, cracking herself and Ladyhawk up again.

As another aside, who knew that Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain could be so pertinent to the siege of The Crag?

Freida Grimstone enters the Palace, followed by the other lords of the Resistance and their retinues. They are stony-faced, obviously not happy with the damage to the fortress, but Grimstone’s face lightens when she sees the throne left vacant for her. She walks up the stairs to come face to face with Tremor.
“Has there been any news of my father?” – Freida, quietly to Tremor.
Ladyhawk and LD lost it again at the question, barely able to wheeze out, “You killed Papa!”
“I think we broke them…” – Delphi.
I was too busy laughing to restore order.
“I’ve never seen Ladyhawk cry before.” – Dev.

Maebh and Breanna snigger to themselves, but no one present remarks upon it, though some of Freida’s retinue look disapprovingly upon the lack of decorum. Freida ignores it all.
“No word. He has thoroughly disappeared.” – Tremor, gritting his teeth.
“So be it. The throne of The Crag is mine to take, and so I will. I pledge my continued support to the Resistance, until my fellow lords regain their seats.” – Freida, turning to acknowledge the other lords of the Resistance.

She then climbs the remaining stairs and sits upon the throne.

And with that, the Grimstones are back in charge of The Crag, and the Resistance officially has a stronghold.

* * *

A council meeting has been scheduled for the evening, to discuss the next move for the Resistance. In the intervening hours, the companions entertain themselves as they see fit.

Harold:
The Invarrian, who has been formulating a plan for the last few weeks, does a few rounds among the newly arrived members of the Resistance, looking for Invarrians. He finds four, two farmers, a miner and a settled raider. He resolves to train them as reavers, ostensibly to help the war effort, but the others think he may just be lonely and pining for Invarrian company.
A succession of Command Checks passed as Harold trains his would-be reavers over the course of a several hours. He focusses on improving their individual abilities, as that is his own speciality, and the Invarrians agree to meet up again the following day to continue their training.

Tremor
While this is happening, Tremor chases up information on the Blackhand Mines outside The Crag. According to his sources, the mines are unlikely to have anything more than a skeleton crew of miners there, most of whom would, like as not, feel no loyalty to the Blackhand clan beyond being paid.

“Perhaps we can have some forces go there? For ‘protection.’ – Aeva, stressing the last word.
The others agree, but it will probably have to wait until after this council meeting.

There is some discussion here about Dwergar society and how the Resistance is currently viewing the companions.

You see, Dwergar society is based around using people. Anyone too powerful to be used, are a threat. The companions have just proven they are a handful, taking a heavily fortified city with next to know casualties, causing a fair bit of mayhem and destruction in the process. In taking The Crag, the companions have made a case for themselves that they may just be too dangerous.

Already, factions within the Resistance are weighing up their options when it comes to dealing with the companions, for while the company is going along with the Resistance for now, that will not necessarily always be the case, especially since the various factions within the Resistance are not exactly keen on each other to begin with.

“Well, they’re going to have fun taking their places back without us then.” – Delphi, summing up the party’s reaction.

Breanna and Aeva:
Seeing as they have some spare time before the meeting, Breanna and Aeva head off to the market district. Aeva is in need of some general gear and equipment, and Breanna feels an urge to look at more stabby implements of death, so they go off together to ensure each other’s safety.

Aeva goes on a shopping spree, picking up a new set of finer clothes, sheafs of parchment, writing equipment, a sewing kit, a selection of dyes, a length of rope and a tent. They then go to the armoury where Breanna picks up some finely tooled leather bracers and some more bolts for her crossbow and Aeva picks up four throwing daggers.

Kel’Serrar:
Aeva and Breanna did not leave alone as Kel’Serrar is with them for a short while, but swiftly blends into the crowd and starts rumour mongering. The slight ranger is completely unrecognisable, and anyone following him would quickly lose him in the crowd.

As could be expected, the common people are not particularly pleased with how things have turned out over the last few days. For one, they aren’t happy about the destruction caused by the companions. Secondly, the bat plague, which it is rightly assumed, the companions were responsible for. Thirdly, Freida Grimstone. Her father was a popular ruler, and now he is missing and she so conveniently happens to be present to pick up where he left off.

Naturally, there are plenty of cynics.

And then of course there’s the fact that where Mordin Grimstone was a well-liked ruler, he was probably too nice. The treasury was a mess when Windrider took over. The Crag’s reputation as a military powerhouse was in ruins, simply because old Mordin didn’t see the maintenance and upkeep of armed forces as necessary.

Grimstone, while just and fair and generally likeable, was just not very effective. Windrider on the other hand, he got **** done. In a short time Windrider returned The Crag to its position of prominence. The mountain fortress was Bain’s jewel in the crown, the ace in matters both military and mercantile.

Windrider may not have been particularly well-liked, but he inspired pride in the citizens of The Crag.
“I love the fact that I just sat down and listened to one old guy rant for a few hours.” – Sins.

Tremor and Maebh:
Tremor meanwhile retreats to private quarters to write out some legally binding contracts to try and lock in the lords of the Resistance. Maebh goes with him to assist him. The mage has turned her keen mind to the political situation, and the two of them spend hours hashing out the exact terms of these agreements.

* * *

The house the companions have commandeered following the assault is one of very few still standing in what was once the noble district. It is a nice place, especially now that work teams have repaired any damage from the explosions and cleaned up the shattered rock and dried guano.

It is two storeys tall, built from solid rock and has more than enough rooms to accommodate the party. A pen sits against the wall too, built for a small herd of livestock which must have escaped in the chaos of the assault.
Cue jokes about wild pigs and goats roaming the underground halls, hungry for dwarf-flesh.
The pen has now been claimed by Toirneach and Amadeus. Breanna and Harold have given up on trying to keep Wolfgang and Bach contained though. The beasts are both large and clever enough to escape, and too mischievous by a mile to be left unattended for more than a few minutes. They have already rampaged through a butchery in the last few days, and have threatened to do worse.

Before the meeting, the companions gather together once more in the parlour of their new home, to discuss what has happened.
“How did the rumour mongering go?” – Breanna, to Kel’Serrar who sits at ease upon his chair.
“Not too badly. They aren’t happy with us at all though.” – Kel’Serrar, master of understatement.
“Can you blame them? We blew up parts of the city, covered it in bat-**** and then killed their leaders.” – Aeva, sitting at the table.
“Don’t forget we caved in their mines and completely showed up their supposedly excellent military by taking this place with a handful of fighters.” – Harold, over in the corner maintaining his weaponry.
“Forgetting that, they liked Freida’s father. And then Windrider took over, and they liked him too. But we killed him, and it is only a matter of time before they start pinning Grimstone’s death on us too. They’ve already started to say it was Freida herself. And we just put her in power. We look like her servants.” – Kel’Serrar.
“We need to start spreading some propaganda on the sly then.” – Harold.

Silence falls over the company as they think about the situation they now find themselves in.

“So how did the writing go?” – Harold, to Tremor and Maebh.
“Well, I think. We’re pretty happy with what we’ve got. We want to make sure that they agree to being subservient to me, with it being a bit ambiguous as to whether they continue to hold to that after they get their lands back. A little bit of uncertainty there would not hurt us.” – Tremor.
“We also need to make sure that it is clear how we are spreading the wealth of the Blackhand Mines. With Edrik missing, presumed dead, we can parcel them out as we wish, our spoils by right of conquest.” – Maebh, looking up from the depths of the focus stone she wears at her throat.
"So, I assume that's what we have done?" - Kel'Serrar, quietly.
"Pretty much. One quarter of the mine's wealth to each lord of the Resistance, minus Stonehammer as he is not really a lord." - Tremor.
"That's only three quarters then. What of the last one?" - Breanna.
"That's ours." - Maebh, with a wild grin.

* * *

The lords of the Resistance meet once more in a hastily organised audience chamber in the palace of The Crag. Lords Blackbear and Redclay are present, along with Lady Grimstone and their retinues. Also present are the companions and a small party of Mountain Finches, attending their ceannasai Rhen Featherwind.

Tremor sits at the meeting table, Maebh and Harold on either side, as equals with the lords of the Resistance. Behind him, acting as his retinue are Barandin, Breanna and Aeva. Kel’Serrar has made himself inconspicuous and taken a place in Arald Redclay’s retinue, the better to keep tabs on dissenters among the parties of the lords.

Again, Godsman Harrick Stonehammer convenes the council meeting.
"Things have certainly changed for us now, but most of the faces I see before me are familiar. My Lady Grimstone, as this is your hall, I shall sit and allow you to continue."- Harrick Stonehammer, before taking his seat.

“After the tragic death of my late father, I have taken up my clan’s ancestral seat. I pledge to continue my support of the Resistance until my fellow lords have also been reinstated.” – Freida Grimstone, beginning her spiel.

Breanna and Maebh struggle to hide their amusement at Grimstone’s pronouncement, but other than a few sideways looks, no one calls them out.

“I said as much publically and I hold to that behind closed doors too. I believe we have some pressing matters to attend to? I invite everyone to speak their minds.” – Freida Grimstone, opening up the floor to the others present.
“Do we know the location of Bain Ironfist?” – Maebh, leaning forward on the stone table.
“My spies report that Ironfist is currently just south of Nordtarnet Fortress, pillaging the countryside. A few villages surrounding the fortress have been withholding taxes and harbouring our agents. Somehow, Ironfist has gotten wind of this and they have paid the price. I am led to believe that we will be seeing refugees seeking shelter at the Southgate within the week.” – Arald Redclay, leaning back in his seat.

There is some muttering around the council at this.
“They’ll never make it this far. We’ve left those poor people to die.” – Concerned Dwergar near Kel’Serrar.
“Aye, they’ll never escape Bain’s riders.” - Another Dwergar, presumably the friend of the first.
“Might be a good thing. We would struggle to feed more mouths.” – Third Dwergar, coldly calculating.

“That brings me to another point. How are repairs and reinforcement of the city coming along?” – Harold.

“Well enough, Herrn Oakenshield. The work of your own people before we even arrived was greatly appreciated and I have had my people join their efforts since. The Westgate is devastated, but we have begun work on a postern gate to provide access to and from the western road. We expect that to be complete within a fortnight. The Westgate itself may take a year or more to repair.” – Freida Grimstone, throwing a dark glare at Maebh, who coldly returns the stare.

“And troops? How many warriors can The Crag provide us with now?” – Ersun Blackbear, gruffly.

“We have the remnants of The Crag’s military, along with the forces who accompanied me to the Valleywood. That is over a thousand troops. I have my steward conducting an audit of The Crag’s military capacity as we speak.” – Freida Grimstone, defensive.

“And now what of our next target?” – Harrick Stonehammer.

The muttering grows louder.
“Grimstone gets her keep, but what of my lord?” – One of Blackbear’s retinue.
“You wait for it, Ironfist will back out of his oath.” – Another of Blackbear’s retinue, nodding in agreement.

“What of Valewatch? Is it feasible to take with, say, five hundred?” – Harold, keen to talk matters of strategy.

There is some laughter at this.

“Ha! Never could Valewatch be taken with such a small number. Your tricks may have worked here, but my people are far cannier. No less than a thousand will suffice. You will find Valewatch a tough nut to crack.” – Ersun Blackbear, amused.

“We just took The Crag, supposedly the most heavily fortified stronghold for many miles around with a handful of fighters.” – Maebh, quietly.
Many of those present are laughing to themselves, but Rhen Featherwind looks at the companions approvingly and Stonehammer is shaking his head at the reactions. For her part, Freida Grimstone is not sharing in the laughter, but has a dangerous glint in her dark eyes.

Tremor tries to speak calmly over the laughter, but is just ignored.
“Quiet! Lord Ironfist wishes to speak!” – Harrick Stonehammer, smashing a hammer down on the table with an era-splitting crack.
“Aye, thank you Godsman. Lord Blackbear, are there any back entrances we might know about? Ways we can enter without the knowledge of the defenders?” – Tremor, to Ersun Blackbear.
“Well, you might not be too keen on going down there, but one could potentially go in through the sewers.” – Ersun Blackbear, still chuckling to himself.

“Who else knows about it? Will the sewer system be guarded?” – Aeva, from where she stands behind Tremor.
“Guarded? Most likely not. It is not a closely guarded secret for all that.” – Blackbear, deigning to respond.

"Valewatch is some distance away and we have enemies closer to The Crag. We should make for Black Hill and destroy it." - Freida Grimstone, to the approval of her own retinue.

"Dame Grimstone, Lord Ironfist has made a vow to retake Valewatch next." - Harrick Stonehammer, to growls of assent from Blackbear's retinue.
Tension starts to grow.

"We have already retaken The Crag for you Lady Grimstone. We must do what we can for others now." - Aeva, blunt.
Grimstone sneers at the Selkye druid, but does not respond.

"The way I see it, we need to take Valewatch. But we need to take it in summer, once we have a large body of well-trained troops. We must also be wary of Ironfist's counter-attack. It is inevitable, and we should not strike out again until we have beaten it off." - Harold, expressing his point.

This is met with some derision around the room.

"Summer is another half a year away. We must move quicker than that." - Stonehammer, so often the voice of reason, this time condoning hastier action.

"A small party, from the inside. It can be done again." - Maebh, with gravity.
"We cannot pull the same stunt again though." - Aeva, from behind the mage, who nods in agreement.
"A veteran force then, storming the keep?" - Harold.

The ceannasai of the Mountain Finches nods at the companions.
"Though this cause is not our own, the Valleywood is our home and therefore the Valewatch situation is one my people must play a part in. I will volunteer my archers to aid you in this endeavour." - Rhen Featherwind, solemnly.

"That may not be necessary. No, I'm speaking of just two or three people, taking out key targets. Victory through assassination." - Maebh.

That gets a reaction once more, generally praising. Assassinations are a topic dear to every dwarf's heart, and a favoured method of warfare, business and settling domestic disputes. Redclay does look less than pleased, though probably not due to any moral difficulties with the activity.
"He won't be happy about that. Potential powerbrokers getting offed is not good for trade." - One of Redclay's attendants, whispering to a friend.

Kel'Serrar's undetected presence in the crowd is proving quite useful.
If only as an exposition device for me.

Freida Grimstone inclines her head, a small smile etched on her cold features.
"I approve of this course of action, and would happily support such a motion." - Freida Grimstone.
"Yeah, that's no surprise." - Ladyhawk.

"Well, we do have an assassin." - Harold, looking towards Breanna, who had been generally ignored up to this point by the assembly. As such she quickly drops the peach she was messily devouring to the floor and licks her fingers, grinning at the lords and their retinues.

"She sneaks in, kills the commander and then we can head in and take advantage of the confusion and their lack of direction and we take over with little to no difficulty." - Maebh.

The debate rages further, but no counter-points are made to this. Grimstone is content to let this play out as the others see fit and Blackbear just wants to gets his keep back. Redclay obviously disapproves of the whole affair, but says nothing to countermand the decision.

"My lords, the hour is growing late. Do we have a decision?" - Stonehammer, eager to get a plan in place and sorted.

"As Herrn Oakenshield suggested, we shall move troops to Valewatch as soon as the season changes. Winter is no time for large troop movements in the mountains, especially since The Crag is so vulnerable at this moment.

Dame Raven-Wing's plan to assassinate the key figures of Valewatch is one I highly approve of. I suggest we implement that as soon as possible." - Freida Grimstone, to nods of assent from the other lords.

Arald Redclay gives his only grudgingly.

Aeva is suddenly struck by inspiration.
"To divert attention from us as we launch our assault on Valewatch, could we not have rumours spread that we are holing up in The Crag for the rest of the winter? Even though it is true, take attention away from our eminent assault on Valewatch by focussing their attention on what we are doing here." - Aeva, to a chorus of agreement.

There are a few other local matters brought up in the council which the companions do not embroil themselves in and then Tremor speaks up.

"Before we bring this meeting to an end, I have a few legal documents I wish to circulate amongst you and have you sign, to confirm your allegiance and continued support." - Tremor, bringing forth the documents he and Maebh prepared earlier.

The documents are circulated, and the lords read them with interest.

In base terms, they are Tremor's demands.



- Continued support of Tremor as the rightful Konungr.
- Troops and supplies according to their means.
- Military alliances at least until the death of Bain Ironfist.
- Shared training and outfitting of troops.

In return, Tremor offers the aid of he and his retainers and a quarter share of the yield of the Blackhand Mines. As Stonehammer is contributing no troops, he gets no silver.

The lords find this reasonable and sign the documents, though Stonehammer hesitates slightly before he does so.

Ladyhawk asked me to sign a piece of paper as all the lords, offering to sign for Grimstone herself. I took this as an opportunity for the group to have a bit of fun and asked them all to sign for a particular lord.

For brownie points readers, guess who signed as each lord.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Signatories_zpsdbigst1y.jpg

Now these documents are not exactly worth all that much themselves, but it does give the companions the moral high ground if the lords do not hold to their word.

"Very well. Lord Ironfist, I will leave you to organise your companions on their mission. With the permission of Dame Grimstone, I call this meeting to an official end. May the Old Gods guide us all." - Harrick Stonehammer.

* * *

Back in a minute...

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-19, 11:29 AM
And we are back! :smallsmile:

On their way from the council chamber to their own dwelling, the companions are joined briefly by the ceannasai of the Mountain Finches, Rhen Featherwind.
"We were sent to aid Breanna Blackrose and her companions in this endeavour, an oath we have fulfilled. As I stated in the council meeting, though our goals do intertwine in places, this is not our fight. For all that however, Valewatch lies close to Imreitibh and though we are to return home, we would be honoured to provide an escort to your hunting party until we must part ways." - Rhen, not unkindly. Though losses amongst the Mountain Finches were very low in the conflict, he has still lost personal friends in this struggle, a loss compounded by the sorry fact that they were participating in a war that was not theirs to fight.

"We would be glad of your company." - Breanna, simply.

It is all that needs to be said.

In reality, more was said.
"We'll arrive at Valewatch with two very fat Danann and one conspicuously absent archer corps." - Sins.
"If you eat them, I swear to God I will murder you." - LD, laughing.

* * *

Over the next few days, the companions seek to complete their own individual tasks.

A city-wide celebration is to be held in honour of all those who took part in the siege on both sides. Breanna travels to Imreitibh with an invitation to the clan elders of the Mountain Finches to attend as guests of honour.

Harold continues training his reavers, joined by Kel'Serrar who has tried to gather up some archers for the same reasons.

Tremor though has been engaged in kingly duties, dealing with all manner of complaints and issues with the lords and nobles. Aeva has maintained her place on his shoulder, and the kite-hawk becomes a widely recognised symbol of Tremor's presence.
"I just sit on his shoulder, watching over him. Whispering obscene things in his ear. 'Look at that girl's tits!'" - Delphi, to general laughter.
"When I have free time I'll just bounce ideas off her too." - Tremor.
"I could totally be his advisor." - Delphi.
"Cause Incitatus worked out so well for Caligula..."

While all this going on, Maebh has been examining all their equipment, particularly the new additions they picked up. In addition to this, she has been seeing to Toirneach and honing her magical abilities. She knows that Bastaird is still hunting her, and wants to be prepared.

They asked me about regaining Soulfire, Luck and Health and I acquiesced to their requests.
"Is taking a city singlehandedly worth a level up?" - Sins.
"Aaaah, no."
"Worth a shot." - Sins, grinning.
"Oh come on, why not?" - Dev.
"Because if I did, we would probably have to wrap up the session right now."
"But we did good and killed a lot of bitches." - Delphi.
"So does that mean we start the next session with a level up?" - Sins.
"Possibly."
"I will be here next session by the way guys, you can't get rid of me now." - Delphi, to a chorus of "Awesome."
"Are you here forever?" - Ladyhawk.
"Forever. Five-ever. That's right. Fear me." - Delphi.
"No." - Sins.
"But I'm scary!" - Delphi.
"No, you're not. You're wearing cat ears. That's not scary." - Ladyhawk.
"It can be scary."
"Mewww" - LD.
"That... That's a bit scary."

A remembrance of the names of the fallen is recounted on the fifth day after the siege, at dawn, at several points throughout the city, many hundreds of names read out as the people of The Crag remember those who were lost. Harrick Stonehammer himself leads the ceremony in the fountain court before the palace for the lords and nobility, but other godsmen are recounting the names at various points through the city to ensure that all get to pay their respects.

The rest of the day is carried out like a Selkye viesla, Aeva having prevailed upon the lords to be allowed to organise the event. All work is abandoned for the day as the people of The Crag revel and make merry.
"I do like to party." - Delphi.

That night, a feast is held in the dining hall of the palace, with the archers of the Mountain Finches held in high honour. For their part, the provincial clansmen of Imreitibh are taken aback by the whole affair, but the companions hope that it might go some way to acknowledging the loss of the Leathe in the fighting and the appreciation of the Resistance for their aid.

* * *

Ahead of the companions lies a heavy task. First, they must travel through the Valleywood, a dense forest with a fell reputation. A reputation well-deserved due to the predators, pools of dark magic leaving lingering parties of undead and a malicious fey court. Making the task more difficult, the Sons of Wyre are still in the area, a hard-as-nails company of elite mercenaries. On top of that, reports from the Mountain Finches suggest that there are Krowavir tribes in the area.


The huge, ill-tempered relatives of the Feartarbh, the Krowavir are rare in the world today, owing to their intemperate personalities and lacking intelligence. Few colonies exist in the wilds, particularly amongst the Southern Ranges of Sothbayne, the darkest valleys of the Wardenfells and, apparently, the depths of the Valleywood, all areas renowned for their fell reputations.

In appearance they are massive, furred beasts, fully grown individuals easily twelve feet tall, with heavily corded muscle, large fangs and tusks and a crown of massive horns. They are usually sparsely clad, if at all, and only rarely use weapons. Those weapons are usually no more sophisticated than a club made from a fallen tree.

When the Bovus Empire fell apart, (Basically the Roman Empire with minotaurs) the Bovus split into two factions. The Feartarbh, who retained a semblance of culture, many of whom assimilated into the various cultures which arose of the fall, and the Krowavir, who retreated into the deepest woods and quickly regressed to a state of bloodthirsty rage at what they had lost.

And then there's Valewatch itself, a well-defended fortress filled with heavily armed woods-dwarves.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Valewatch_zpsfyxovlte.jpg

This is not going to be easy.

I cannot hear many things in the recording as Ladyhawk, LD and Delphi keep chatting about something or other in the background. Whatever it is must have been really funny because they were cracking up about it for a good fifteen minutes. Snippets I was able to glean include:
- Conversation about my cat, Satan, who does sound like she just crawled up from the depths of hell.
- Delphi's yawn can and indeed does sound like a Velociraptor.
- Dev's Kingdom of Heaven reference flew straight over all their heads.
- Sometimes Ladyhawk mishears me and that makes me sound like an alcoholic.
- We are making shirts and jackets for the group... I already have a shirt.

There are three commanders present in Valewatch:

The first, Magnar Runestone, new lord of Valewatch.
- An elderly, grey-bearded Dwergar.
- Was once one of Ersun Blackbear's foremost advisors, but was instrumental in his downfall.
- Never remarried after the death of his first wife. Has only one surviving relative, his heir, Brannigan.
- Has now become grotesquely fat. He's had the run of the place. And the larder by the look of it.

The second, Boris Mordrickson of Clan Yealblade, captain of the guard.
- A tall, dark-haired, heavily built Dwergar.
- Was the captain of the guard during Blackbear's reign. Opened the gates to Bain Ironfist's forces.
- Is not of noble stock, but was elevated thus following his role in deposing Blackbear.

The third, Brannigan Magnarson of Clan Runestone, heir to Valewatch.
- A young, well-built, russet-haired Dwergar.
- Is well-liked and charismatic.
- Disapproves of political machinations. Because of this, is seen to be a little dull by other nobles.

Following the feast, most of the companions leave The Crag, along with the Mountain Finches returning home. The Leathe are not going to aid the companions in taking Valewatch, but the ceannasai is more than happy to provide an escort for Maebh, Breanna, Aeva and Kel'Serrar.

Of Tremor and Harold, they remain at The Crag for now, keeping a close eye on the disparate parts of the Resistance. In three days time, Ersun Blackbear will march on Valewatch with 500 Resistance troops. Harold and Tremor will join them.

* * *

Maebh, Breanna, Aeva and Kel'Serrar:
The Mountain Finches make swift time through the Blackspine passes and part ways with the companions just east of Imreitibh. The ceannasai, Rhen Featherwind offers his blessings to the group and a carved stone to Breanna to remember him by.

And then it is just the four of them, alone in the wilderness, in a very foreboding forest. Ignoring the sinking feeling in their stomachs, the four companions set off to the south-west, to Valewatch, the early morning sun barely glinting through the dense canopy.

Unnervingly, they saw very little in the way of wildlife on the trip to Valewatch. A good thing considering the potentially deadly creatures which inhabit the Valleywood, but also very strange. In essence, no giant death-bears is good, no birds, caorigh or deer is bad. It isn't like their party made much noise, the Leathe skirmishers and three of the four companions all at home in the woodland. Of the fourth companions, a hawk overhead is hardly out of place.

The companions eventually set up a campsite about two miles from Valewatch, hidden deep within the woods. While the three do so, Aeva continues on to get an idea of the layout of the place from the air.

The kite-hawk sees no sign of Lord Runestone himself and cannot pick out Yealblade from his men, but the Runestone heir, Brannigan is easy to find. Indeed, he makes himself very busy, at ease amongst the soldiers. It seems they like him too, their spirits lifting where he goes. He's obviously quite popular.

The keen eyes of the kite-hawk also reveal that the crafts-dwarves of Valewatch are very busy. Smiths, carpenters, masons, tanners, all of them are hard at work. They are cranking out equipment, weapons and armour loaded onto creaking wagons in huge quantities. Fortification of the curtain wall and the construction of more dwellings is also taking place at a feverish rate.

When Aeva returns to the companions' campsite, they cluster around a small fire and discuss what they intend to do around a quick meal of dried meat, hard cheese and foraged berries as the weak northern sun fades.

"So the plan is for Breanna and Aeva to perform the assassination itself, while the two of us provide a reserve force." - Kel'Serrar, leaning back and munching on cheese.

"That's it. If we need to pass on information, I will send you a whisper, which Maebh can pass on to the others if required." - Aeva, sitting on a fallen log.

"Now they are xenophobic little bastards, so I either need a disguise from Kel, or to go over the wall under the cover of darkness." - Breanna, chewing on a couple of berries.

"Well, it will be dark soon. You might as well get on with it." - Maebh, lying down, looking at the stars above.

* * *

The guards are patrolling the ramparts of Valewatch, as they are meant to, but no one notices the small shadow flit over the southern wall.

* * *

Overhead, a kite-hawk soars on the rapidly cooling night air, keen eyes seeking out the commanders. She will probably be grounded soon though, the large bird needing the thermals to stay aloft for such a long period of time.

* * *

A wind carries a faint voice to the campsite where Maebh and Kel'Serrar sit around the fire.

"Give me an hour, then set fire to the forest just north of the keep. Something which appears dangerous, but won't be." - Aeva's whisper.

* * *

In the deepest shadows behind the eastern inner-tower, Breanna lies in wait, knives ready on the off-chance she is discovered. She waits for the call to strike, a signal from Aeva that her first mark is ready to die...

* * *

The kite-hawk lands on the thin blanket of snow covering the ground just north of Valewatch, out of sight of the keep. With a shiver, Aeva throws her usual form back on and begins scribing arcane sigils into the snow around her, entreating the spirits to aid her. When she finishes, she sits down in the middle of the sigils and with a wild cry, a pulse of blue coruscating magic bursts forth from the druid.

Aeva of course doesn't want here wildfire plan to harm the wildlife in the area, so she is using her magic to repel them from the area. As a Spirit Magic Ritual, this took some time to complete, around half an hour. The next half an hour gives the animals time to get clear and Aeva time to get back into position.

Shrugging back into the shape of the hawk, Aeva wearily takes to the night sky once more.

* * *

Now just north of Valewatch, Kel'Serrar watches on as Maebh gathers up a roiling blast of flame and unleashes it upon the Valleywood. The mage artfully controls the gleaming golden flames, weaving it through the trees, doing so in such a way as to prevent any completely unnecessary damage.

For Kel'Serrar, his vigil over Maebh is constantly interrupted by the crackling of flames and memories of burning pain and ashes wafting on a chill wind.

* * *

From her vantage point, sitting on the southern gatehouse, the kite-hawk that is Aeva sees the roaring inferno Maebh is creating to the north. So too can the guards upon the walls, many of which start to abandon their posts to better see what is happening to the north.

Her keen eyes pick out her first mark, a tough, scarred Dwergar in heavy grey plate and chain shouting orders to the defenders to return to their positions. Guard-Captain Boris Yealblade, mostly unattended on the southern tower.

On the wall to the north, surrounded by awestruck soldiery, the second mark, Brannigan Magnarson. He too stares out at the growing fire, amazed by the deadly beauty of it. A weaving wall of death, flickering with golden light through the darkened trees.

* * *

"Now Bree. - Aeva's whisper, to Breanna.

With a slight flash of blue light, Yealblade finds himself momentarily paralysed, but he is of hardy Vale-dwarf stock, and Aeva's snare barely finds a hold on him.

Aeva rolled to determine the amount of time Breanna had to get there and take advantage of the Snare. That did not go well, granting the assassin only ten seconds to cross most of the fortress.

Anyone else could not have done it, but Breanna's athletic and acrobatic feats are now legendary, and so I offered LD an opportunity. Spend a Luck Point and if you ace the Checks I ask for, you get there in time.

Trusting to her dice rolling abilities, LD agreed without hesitation.

05, 01, 00, 03.

Cue round of applause from all present as LD collapses into hysterical laughter.
"****ing dice Jesus!" - Dev, which is his way of congratulating her.
"Give me your crown." - Ladyhawk, who takes LD's crown and adds a subtitle to it.
"So the possum basically teleported across the fortress into this bloke's face. How far did he get sent?" - Sins.

Breanna sprints across the streets of Valewatch, vaulting over a startled guard without breaking stride. She is travelling so fast that he never even saw her, just heard her whistling overhead. A split second later, she is on the rooftops, gliding from roof to roof with practiced ease.

Five...
Ahead of her lies the southern tower and her keen eyes can just make out the stocky, heavily armoured figure at the top.
Four...
She knows she has but seconds left to take advantage of the captain's paralysis. She tumbles forward, landing lightly on the ground in a roll.
Three...
She springs out of the roll, launching high into the air with a single, powerful bound. Her blunt claws latch into the timber and heave her up further again.
Two...
Muscles burning with the exertion, she realises that she is too late. She can't possibly make it in time as she flies over the parapet of the tower.
One...
Yealblade frees himself enough from the snare to start to look back to the north, just in time for the flying Leathe assassin to kick him solidly in the jaw with a resounding crack.

Yealblade flies backward, released by the snare, neck and jaw shattered, to fall to the ground many feet below, impaled upon the wooden stakes driven into the base of the fortress.

Not only did Breanna accomplish this in ten seconds, she managed to do it without alerting anyone to her presence.

* * *

Magnar Runestone sits on his throne, surrounded by a few councillors and attendants and a single huscarl.

"My lord, the fire to the north is spreading ever further. We must organise troops to go out there and fight the blaze." - Councillor.

"No, the fire is just a ruse. It will not harm us. It is merely a distraction to get us to send guards out of Valewatch. Did you not read what happened at The Crag?" - Magnar, disturbingly well-informed.

"But my lord, this fire is out of control!" - Second councillor.

"The Resistance wants Valewatch. Blackbear, wants Valewatch. They cannot afford to have it burn." - Magnar, again disturbingly well-informed.

The councillor is about to respond but he is cut off by a piercing scream from the western wing of the inner keep. The huscarl, councillors and attendants immediately run from the throne room, trying to find the mystery woman. Magnar tries to get up from his throne, but is too fat to do so by himself, and promptly gives up.

While their backs are turned, a dark shadowy figure, short but well-muscled flits into the room, a wicked knife held in either hand. Magnar tries to yelp out a call for help, but Breanna's daggers find his throat before he does.

Wiping the blood from her blades, Breanna grins and melts back into the shadows.

* * *

"Send word to Tremor, Valewatch is ours." - Aeva's whisper to Maebh and Kel'Serrar.

* * *

A few days later, Tremor and Harold arrive at the head of the Resistance troops which have arrived to claim the fortress.

* * *

The attendants and councillors who were the last to be with Lord Magnar Runestone alive were all executed on the spot by the huscarl present in the throne room. You see, when they heard that woman scream, that huscarl was the first to turn his back on his lord to find her. In that moment, those councillors took the opportunity to slit his lord's throat.

Or so he figures...

* * *

Brannigan has taken over the lordship of both Valewatch and clan Runestone, and at the very least is more likely to be able to be treated with than his father.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up:
Wow, what a gargantuan session. It was thoroughly enjoyable though, despite the raw throat I had afterwards.

Delphi really impressed me with how easily she integrated into the group. Aeva is a very strong support character, a force multiplier if you will, which will definitely help this party. Already the Aeva / Breanna tag-team is causing some serious damage.

We are certainly nearing the end of Arc 4. I believe we may only have one or two sessions left before Arc 5 begins. That doesn't mean that Arc 4 has nothing left to give us though, I assure you that some very big secrets are going to be revealed, which may change a few things about this conflict.

I know that this particular write-up was not huge, but that's mainly because I didn't have anywhere near as much OOC stuff to type up this time. If anything, adding Delphi has helped this group stay on track, something I did not think would happen.

Ever.

That's just about it from me. We are going to play 4.5 of 3 Coins and 1.2 of Whispers on Sunday, and I still have a write-up to finish for Rayncrann before we play that next session.

That's it I think, thanks for reading and have a great night,
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-21, 02:20 AM
Into The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest Session 1.1: A Doe Comes to Rosehollow

“I have no idea where she came from, nor what she really is. All that I can say is that we kept her here for no more than a week before she disappeared. All we found in her room was a single hawk-feather…”- Mother Greta, warden of the Goldshire Orphanage, in a letter to her sister regarding Lily Roisin.

Welcome now, to the first session of Into The Depths of The Rayncrann Forest.

Our tale begins in Rosehollow in the early morning. The birds have just begun their morning song and the scents of the forest are rich in the air all around. An open window streams warm sunlight into Lily's untidy, but homely bedroom. She lies upon the small but comfortable bed, mattress fluffed with the shed downy plumage of countless woodland birds which she has collected, warm woollen blankets strewn around her, thrown off in her sleep as the ambient temperature began to rise during the morning.

In her heart she feels as though life is as near to perfect as it could be at this moment. But her mind tells her otherwise. She knows that there is a change coming to these woods, one that she, who has deigned to take upon herself the protection of these lands, must try to halt.

The Rayncrann Forest can be a dangerous place. Fell spirits lurk in the depths, gliding through the mist above stagnant pools on dark nights. Some say that the trees themselves react violently to those who are deemed to be trespassing. Superstition and ghost stories to keep younglings from wandering off in the night, maybe, but the fact is, not all who venture in make their way back out.

Not even Lily, attuned as she is to the patterns of the wilds, is completely safe in the forest. Nor does she know all there is to know of the place. And so she must be careful, even as she completes her daily routine.

The woodland around Rosehollow is reasonably safe, and the closer one gets to Goldshire, the nearest village for miles around, the safer it gets. Bu the depths of the forest are very dangerous, and not just for the large predators which roam the woods.

Somewhere in the heart of the Rayncrann lies a reservoir of dark magic, daemonic energy which seeps into the soil and corrupts the land and its inhabitants. Lily contends with this taint, slaying any beasts or spirits which become affected.

She rises from her bed, awakening Pixy as she does so and prepares herself for the coming day before heading down the naturally grown stairs into the main living area for her breakfast. A small bushel of berries hangs from the ceiling and absent-mindedly, Lily plucks them, eating them slowly as she watches over the clearing outside through a window.

"Any particular plans for today?" - Pixy, curious.
Yes, Pixy is Lily's Magic Talking Fox.

"Just the usual my friend." - Lily, distractedly.

"Well then, I shall see to my own breakfast." - Pixy, sliding through a small hall in the bottom of the front door.

After Pixy leaves, Lily sees a small brown doe hurrying towards Rosehollow. She appears quite frightened and Lily rushes outside to meet her. The doe nuzzles her snout against Lily's hand, seeking comfort and the druid does her best to commune with the fragile creature.

Successful Beast Tongue Check.

It is hard to really understand what the doe is trying to communicate, but Lily is quite practiced at this work, and with a little effort is able to deduce that there are a great number of two-legs, much like herself, with great-fangs, who are coming into the forest on the western eaves, causing destruction.

The deer have apparently all fled deeper into the woods, and it was decided that they would send the swiftest of their number to Lily for help.

"I will do what I can. Go back to your herd. I will deal with them." - Lily, to the doe, which flees back into the forest.

Lily gathers her thoughts and wills herself into the form of a large russet hawk and then takes to the skies, powerful wings beating clear of the forest canopy. She catches a thermal and soars aloft, keen eyes searching the ground for signs of encroaching civilisation.

* * *

It is as the doe said.

To the west, in the direction of Goldshire, a bare three miles from Rosehollow, around a score of axemen are cutting down the trees on the edge of Rayncrann. A handful of tents have been pitched in a campsite, too few for the amount of workers present.

A team of four oxen are penned next to the creek, their enclosure a low, light wooden fence. The four oxen are still hitched to a massive dray, and teams of workmen are overseeing the placement of felled tree trunks in the base of it.

The hawk that is Lily alights on a branch near the workers and tries to overhear any information she can, but all she is able to discern is that these men are extremely foul-mouthed, cursing at every small problem. One of them, a short, stocky Lowlander, clad in rough homespun stands on a stump, shouting orders to the other workers. He is presumably the overseer, but does not give away any plans.

Lily resolves to return at night, and takes to the skies once more, troubled by what she has seen.

* * *

Landing on the ground outside Rosehollow, Lily is struck by the quiet of it all. Something is off.

She notices a flash of rust-coloured fur behind her and to the left.

"Pixy, it's me." - Lily, before shifting back to her normal form.

"I knew that... I was... Testing you." - Pixy, shamefaced.

Lily, still troubled by what she has witnessed goes on her usual rounds through the forest, seeing to the trees and animals around Rosehollow, checking for signs of taint and monitoring the presence of the local fey court.

A few Search Checks.

There are no signs of taint here, so close to Rosehollow, but so are there only few signs of wildlife.

"I did not manage to catch anything this morning. The woods are strangely quiet." - Pixy, under her breath.

Lily does not respond to her familiar, caught in her thoughts regarding why. She assumes it must have something to do with loggers to the west until she catches sight of a fey Mark, a territorial marking left by the local court. This one is woven of spider's silk.

The Court of Frozen Leaves would appear to be expanding their territory. They traditionally rule the deep woods near Rosehollow. The court is not malevolent, but so too are they not benign. They are an alien variable, and it would seem their influence is spreading.

Perhaps that is why the wildlife is fleeing the area?

* * *

That night, Lily takes the shape of a grey squirrel and scampers into the campsite. Pixy helps her evade any predators that might take a squirrel as prey until the pair get to the edge of the camp, at which point Pixy slinks back to Rosehollow.

The squirrel which is Lily sneaks through the camp, past eight tents surrounding a small fire. Drunken snores emanate from each and every tent. She assumes that the other workers she saw today must have retired back to Goldshire once their day's work had ended. The ones who remain are likely not locals, probably itinerant hired hands instead.

The squirrel hurries to the pen which holds the four oxen, which are no longer hitched to the dray, but are still tethered to the fence with long, thin ropes. Lily approaches them and takes her usual form once more.

Successful Beast Tongue Check.

“What is happening here?” – Lily, quietly to the oxen.
The oxen all reply as one, as they do practically everything as a team. They tell her that they are taking trees to the cutting-building by the river, which Lily deduces must be the sawmill just outside Goldshire. They tell her of a life of servitude, but how it is not so bad. They tell her of the pride they feel in pulling the loaded dray.

She asks if they would like to be free, and together they give their assent.

So Lily unties the ropes binding them to the fence and gently opens the gate, closing it behind them. And then the team of oxen stand there next to her, waiting for her commands.

With a sigh, Lily gathers up her thoughts and gives the creatures a package of knowledge each about where to go and how to survive in the woods. Armed with this, the oxen turn and leave, traipsing straight through the campsite. To Lily’s relief, the workers are too inebriated to be awoken that easily.

Exhaling with a sigh of relief, Lily decides to sneak into a tent to see what she can find. Throwing on the shape of a squirrel, Lily sneaks into a tent inhabited by a short, hairy, heavily built man. He is snoring and so thoroughly asleep that he doesn’t notice the squirrel dart in and grab some papers in her little squirrel paws.

Between the poor light and her squirrel eyes, it is hard to make out many details on the pages, but it looks like they are plans and schedules. So she takes them in her paws and legs it out into the night, stopping at the edge of the clearing to change her form once more, now into a hawk again, before flying back to Rosehollow.

* * *

Safe back in Rosehollow, Lily sits in her living room, Pixy curled up beside her. A lantern provides enough light to read by, and so she peruses her stolen pages. What she reads has her furious.

The plans are for a huge mansion to be built in the forest, a location chosen for its proximity to Goldshire. It has been commissioned by Baronet Kalen Steernacht, the only son of Baron Steernacht of Goldshire. The plans call for a truly obscene amount of woodland to be cleared, to provide both the materials and the room for the mansion.

Why he would choose to build it there is beyond Lily, but she cannot help but think that it is due to a lack of empathy brought about by his family’s obscene wealth.

The mansion is to be five stories, and over a hundred rooms, with a cleared garden in front and pasture for livestock.

The schedule suggests that the construction of the mansion will take only five months, with the garden and pastures to take longer again depending on how many groundskeepers are employed. But more worryingly, the schedule suggests that Steernacht intends for the initial clearing to be complete within the next four weeks. Lily realises that in order for this to happen, many more workmen will be arriving over the next month to ensure that the work is completed on time.

Lily doesn’t particularly like killing in general, but she does feel that this particular conflict is going to grow violent. And make no mistake, this will get violent. There is no way Lily Roisin will allow this to come to pass on her lands.

But for now she must sleep and recover her strength, for come the morning, it is war…

The Wrap-Up:
I really enjoyed finally playing this one. We wanted to go with a very small-scale kind of game about keeping her home safe, so that’s what we’ve gone with. Unfortunately it was a pretty short session as we didn’t start until late, but I think we still managed to cover a fair bit of information.

As usual, if you enjoyed this or you have any questions, please feel free to comment on the thread and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Phoenixguard09
2015-08-23, 10:18 PM
Just a quick little update post to let everyone know how we are going.

Yesterday we played Session 4.5 of 3 Coins and 1.2 of Whispers. Unfortunately, both sessions were a fair bit shorter than they were meant to be, 3 Coins because Dev messed up the train timetable on a Sunday and then LD had to leave earlier than we scheduled due to her dance rehearsals.

Once we started Whispers, the group split into three and Dev followed Raven while Ladyhawk and I went to pick up dinner. Unfortunately, they ran into a rules query and Dev decided to just stop the game rather than follow Lys or make a call, until I got back.

Once we returned, we resolved the rules query and continued following Raven after dinner. We didn't get too much further than that before Delphi, who had battled hard all day, finally succumbed to her illness and we called it quits.

I can only speak for 3 Coins, but unfortunately we didn't cover anywhere near as much ground as I hoped. I envisaged wrapping up Arc 4 either yesterday or next session, but after yesterday I think we are probably still at least two sessions away from finishing up in Nordtarnet.

On the other hand, we did have a couple of awesome reveals and some nice roleplay in yet another council meeting. So that was nice.

Anyway, stay tuned for next time:
- Things start to go south for the Resistance.
- A massive reveal regarding Tremor which may have massive repercussions.
- Breanna turns out to be sneakier than any of her companions ever realised.
- Harold takes over as military mastermind of the Resistance.
- Aeva brings out the big guns.

And:
- Raven furthers his reputation as a loose-cannon.
- We are joined by Aurion, a princess of the Danann of the Gheimridhe.
- A knight is killed by a drop-bear.
- Lysrasor reveals the names of his many voices, and then worryingly starts doing as they say....

Phoenixguard09
2015-09-17, 11:17 PM
Whispers in the Dark Session 1.2: Walking Corpses and Dropbears

I can only wish that I knew just what They want from us out here. As it is, Benny and I are doing our best to find out what we can, but we don’t even know what They want information on, let alone what They want the information for.

We’ll do what we can, but I fear that this is an impossible task and we are being set up for failure. I must give some more thought to how to deal with this eventuality. I have some plans, but I know that Benny will not like them.

I also wonder if our compatriots in this cause are to be trusted with my thoughts on the matter.

I think not.”
From the personal journals of Branimir Voijcinski.

Welcome to Whispers Session 1.2.

*A greeting in Japanese.* - Delphi.

We begin about a week after 1.1. A few things have happened in the downtime as the four of us have tried to go underground a little bit. Well, except for Raven, who we are informed, snuck out and murdered some merchant while we weren’t looking.

As for Benedykta and Branimir, the twins managed to obtain a short-term contract as part of the garrison. In Torycastro, mercenaries are only taken on a short term basis. Benny doesn’t want to give away her abilities, so both of them sign up as basic armsmen. They join a handful of patrols over the week, secretly marking the routes down while off duty. They also perform a rough count of the garrison and come to around 300 infantry, 250 crossbows and a handful of casters who they couldn’t get close to.

That is only the garrison though. Any lords in the keep probably have personal guards, and the twins are unable to get any information on them.

Their main contact in the garrison is their commanding officer, Karlos.
We, the players, were not able to ascertain his rank, but Karlos is apparently nobility.
In addition to Karlos, they also had dealings with the Chief Quartermaster, Gordain O’Loghan, who was honest and forthright with them, telling the twins as they collected their pay, that they were no longer required.

Lys on the other hand, having found an archive, has been immersing himself in the history of the town. Apparently, Torycastro was founded, or perhaps conquered over three centuries ago by a Southron warlord. He named, or renamed, the fortress after his hometown in the south, and ever since, the ruling class have been the descendants of that Southron and his men. No one really knows why he was so far north to begin with, but he was there.

And so the four companions find themselves in the Golden Chalice once more, safely ensconced in the back corner, enjoying a quick afternoon tea. No sooner have they begun to take their meal, than they are joined by an elegant Danann youth in a long, richly embroidered dress. She takes out her own goblet from a leather pack and pours herself some wine from the companions’ decanter.

“And who might you be?” – Bran, curious.

“My name is Aurion, from the Gheimridhe in the Wardenfells.” – Aurion, taking a dainty sip of wine.
“You are supposed to do the secret handsign.” – Dev, stage whisper.

We then decided that the Syndicate’s secret hand signal is the finger with live long and prosper.
“So live long and die in poverty.” – Sins.

Aurion, it happens, does not seem as crazy as everyone else, but has still somehow ended up in The Master’s service as a neophyte. Unlike the rest of us, she hasn’t been demoted, rather she is just new. For some reason though, we find her lack of obvious insanity to be unnerving…

“We do not trust you…” – Lysrasor, looking off into the middle distance.

“When he says ‘we,’ he means the voices in his head I think. Personally I haven’t made my mind up yet.” – Bran.

“You have no reason to trust me, but no reason to distrust me either. The fact is The Master has sent me here with additional information for your contract. I am to join you.” – Aurion, finishing our wine.

“Additional information?” – Benny, whose daydreaming was interrupted by that piece of information.

“Indeed, the mentor who gave you your contract missed some vital information and instructions. He has been punished, severely, with fire, but will be fit to continue his duties.” – Aurion, cold.

Apparently we have four main things to find out:
- Patrol routes in and around Torycastro.
- The numbers and intended deployments of the regimentas once mustered.
- The disposition and ability of those regimentas.
- Who has called the muster and why are they mobilising?

“All we need to do is hit the nobility until one of them spills who is in charge.” – Lysrasor, tearing into a hunk of bread.

“Hitting nobility has repercussions on us though. The moment we do that, we are going to be hunted. That’s the end-game sure, but we need to have everything else done before we get run out of town.” – Bran, dipping his bread in a pot of thick gravy.

“So if the nobles are out of the picture for now, what’s our first target?” – Aurion, leaning back in her chair.

“Quartermasters and squad leaders will know numbers and dispositions. Hells, we could probably find and steal documentation with that information on them, without even revealing our presence to anyone. That should be our first task. Once we have all that, then we take the riskier actions and find out who is behind this and why.” – Bran, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Does that mean we follow up on Ser Karlos or the Chief Quartermaster?” – Benny, inquisitive.

“Well Karlos is taking orders from someone. He’s handling the grunt work of organising the garrison, but someone is giving him orders. So he might be a lead to someone higher up, but we don’t know how much involvement, if any, he has with the regimentas. We probably don’t have to have any contact with the quartermasters at all, we can hopefully just steal some documents from them.” – Bran, satisfied.

“I have business of my own to attend to.” – Raven, who abruptly stands and leaves, his food barely touched in front of him.

Sharing a few questioning looks, the other companions discuss the plans for the night. Branimir, Benedykta and Aurion will remain at the Golden Chalice, just having a general chat, ready to be called upon if the others run into trouble.

Lysrasor meanwhile is going to intercept a patrol, using the information Bran and Benny give him regarding the routes and schedules. He simply wants to get an idea of their ability and discipline. For the record, Bran didn’t really approve of this plan, concerned that once patrols start running into disturbances, taking losses, or, Gods forbid, going missing, it is going to be a lot harder to get around the town.

Raven on the other hand, he has just disappeared. No one has seen him after he left the Golden Chalice.

Raven
Having left the Golden Chalice, Raven immediately takes to the sky, landing on a balcony on the fourth floor. A moment later he has thrown on the shape of a ferret and slipped his way into the keep itself. Scurrying through the shadows, he finds himself in a long hallway, lined with heavily armoured knights. At the end of the hallway is a steep stone staircase.

It seems they don’t see him for now, but it appears they are standing guard, presumably outside the lord’s personal chambers.

And so the ferret that is Raven scurries forward to the staircase, trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible.

He passes a closed doorway, lantern light visible from beneath the wooden door. A man and a woman are talking in the room, but it sounds pretty inconsequential, like two servants discussing their respective days.

He passes the door and reaches the top of the staircase, finding another closed door, this one very heavy and crafted of hardwood. Raven/Ferret squeezes under the door with little difficulty and finds himself on the next floor of the castle. Two guards heard the scrabbling and level halberds at the panting ferret.

He bolts, scurrying into an abandoned room and hides beneath the bed. A moment later, the bed is flipped as the guards chase him into the room. The one who performed the bed flipping has a dagger in hand and prepares to stab the creature, but Raven/Ferret is too quick and scampers up his arm, tiny claws raking at any exposed skin he can find.

Neither of the guards can get a proper hold of Raven/Ferret, and eventually they end up incapacitating each other. Raven tries to escape once more, but again they catch him and this time, when they tear away his hiding place once more, they are greeted by a squeaky roar, for Raven has tried to shift from ferret to bear as quickly as he can.

Unfortunately, he’s just managed to become a bear the size of a ferret.

They laugh at him, but not for long because with a surge of power, the bear rapidly grows.

Raven/Bear unleashes a horrifically loud roar…

Lysrasor
Lys has made his way to the paupers’ graveyard of Torycastro, hidden in the shadow of the north-eastern outer wall.

With a flare of daemonic magic, six freshly buried corpses pull themselves from the dirt, their eye-sockets pools of gleaming black. Then, with coterie of corpses at his back and Hctib trotting happily beside him, Lysrasor heads out to intercept a patrol.

Raven
Those first two guards were mauled quickly, but five more guards, clad in full-plate armour in the southern style, come storming into the room with greatswords and battleaxes. Raven/Bear steadily gives ground, meat hook-like claws lashing out at the armoured knights approaching him.

He can hear more heavily armoured knights approaching and knows that there is no way he can take them all. With one last swipe, Raven/Bear turns around and lumbers to a window, throwing himself out. Two knights look out the shattered window, but the bear has disappeared. A bat flutters up past them and they look up to follow its path.

“Wait, is that bat growing larger…” – First knight to his companion.
With a roar, a bear flies past the window, taking the two knights with him.

This time, no one is game to look out the window.

This was hilarious. Two knights with necks broken thanks to a falling bear’s ass.
“That was ass-tounding.” – PG.
“The knights are not enemies, merely enemas.” – Sins.
I guess it was only a matter of time until we incorporated drop-bears in Norbayne.

Lysrasor
A patrol, a mere three men in leather jerkins and armed with spears come across a tall, unnaturally gaunt man standing on the road, swathed in dark robes. He appears to be alone.

“Ser! What is your business out here this night?” – Patrol-sergeant.

Lysrasor looks up at them and whispers, almost to himself.
“Words, words, words, Nicaar wants murder…” – Lysrasor.

With that, the decomposing corpses of his risen slaves burst from the shadows, taking the patrol by surprise, and drag the patrol-sergeant to the ground where they tear him to pieces. The surviving guards try to put down the skeletal creatures, but only cause minimal damage before the foul creatures rip another apart too.

The last man is sent into a fell sleep by Lysrasor himself, who then arranges his skeletal warriors for maximum terror around him, and then strips the man of his weapons and armour.

When the guardsman’s awareness returns, he is utterly terrified, and looks up at Lysrasor with dread.

“Now you tell me, what is your patrol doing out here?” – Lysrasor, the Curial graveblade pricking the poor unfortunate’s throat.

“Please, don’t kill me. I have a wife and family ser.” – Guard.

“You still haven’t answered our question…” – Lys.

“I’m just following orders. From the sergeant.” – Guard.

“And these orders were to do what?” – Lys.

“Just patrol the roads, in case of attack ser.” – Guard.

“An attack from whom?” – Lys.

“We share a border with Ghotaich. Raids are hardly uncommon.” – Guard.

“Your garrison. How many men?” – Lys.

“Around six hundred? I’m not sure. Are you going to kill me?” – Guard.

“No, I will not.” – Lys.
“Ah, why not!?” – One of Lys’ voices, the name of which I cannot make out in the recording.
“No, we will not kill him. I have given my word now.” – Lys.

“Thank you kind ser.” – Guard.

“That being said, it is dangerous to be alone on the roads after dark. I hear that there are unliving fiends out here which long to feast on the flesh of the living. So long as you do not move, I am sure they will not find you, but the moment you do, you will probably attract their attention. And then they will eat you.

I will not kill you.

But they will.” – Lys, backing slowly away through his close ring of risen slaves.

The guard remains huddled on the ground, too scared to even shake in terror.

“Good night.” – Lysrasor, disappearing into the night.

We then exchanged insults.
“You sir, are the epitome of a sphincter.” – Delphi.
“You ****ing wombat.” – Ladyhawk.
“You are a carcass fit for hounds.” – Dev.
“The lights are on but nobody is home. The wheel is spinning, but the hamster’s dead.” - My own favourite.

* * *

The companions all return to their respective rooms and sleep. Aurion seems to have decided that Branimir is a reasonably normal person, and at least compared to Raven, Lysrasor and Benedykta, she’s just about right.

Benny for her part sees a malignant thread of magic woven into Aurion’s being and recognises it as a reasonably significant curse, but a subtle one that she would not be surprised if Aurion didn’t even know of its existence.

She resolves to say nothing of it for now.

The next morning will likely see some major repercussions for the night’s actions, but there is no doubt that this group of miscreants have not even begun to show what they are capable of.

It’s time to let it all burn…

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up
It was a short session this time around due to a late start, compounded by Ladyhawk and I leaving to get dinner sorted out, and then Delphi eventually succumbing to illness.

That being said, a few things were covered, and we are in a better position information-wise, but unfortunately that has come at the cost of letting Raven and Lysrasor of their respective leashes, which could cause some problems for us down the line.

Looking forward to seeing how this party complements each other in combat. I get the feeling that Raven will be attracting attention in bear form, with Lys providing a tar-pit of skeletons and battlefield control spells. That leaves Aurion and Bran to run interception and Benny to blast holes in enemies. Benny’s Warrior training should make her a tougher proposition for the usual mage-hunter types as well.

Phoenixguard09
2016-01-27, 08:26 AM
Okay, this has been a long hiatus, even by our standards.

First up, we are not dead, though the group's crazy time-tables made the end of last year pretty hectic for us.

Secondly, Session 4.5 of 3 Coins is on the way. I am currently 2.5 hours into the recording. So that's something to look forward to.

Thirdly, we have had a group composition change during our hiatus. In a way, it is partially responsible for said hiatus too. Unfortunately, due to a personal issue, Wings, who played Tremor Ironfist will not be playing with us in the future. We are also unlikely to recruit a replacement, at least for some time yet. We are unsure of when our next session will take place, but hopefully it will not be too far away.

Other than that, everyone is well and we wish you all a happy belated New Year.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-01-29, 10:39 AM
Session 4.5: Of Bastardry

Tremor Godriksson of Clan Ironfist sits alone in his rented room in the Blackmane Inn of Urik's Landing. He takes a long draught from a tankard of ale and sets it down on a small wooden desk.

With a curious glint in his eye, he takes up his sack and withdraws the mouldering head of Wilmund Brewer.

"What exactly were you trying to accomplish? You were supposed to have been an innkeeper, not some daemon summoning madman." - Tremor, voice breaking.

A fell green glow surrounds the skull and balefire gleams in its sunken eyes.

"Accusing another of being a daemon summoning madman?" - Wilmund Brewer's whispering voice from beyond the veil.

"Why do you continue to torment me!?" - Tremor, yelling, anguish and alcohol affecting his self-control.

"You are the bastard who killed me...." - Brewer's shade, before the balefire gutters out.

Welcome to Session 4.5 of Three Coins.

“No one said The Game yet.” – Ladyhawk.
“We are awful people.” – Dev.

We left off with the taking of Valewatch, the woodland fortress in the northwest of Nordtarnet. Brannigan Magnarsson of Clan Runestone has taken command of the fortress, but he is struggling to deal with the aftermath of Breanna and Aeva’s joint assault.

The entire council of the Resistance has arrived alongside the other companions, at the head of 500 troops, mainly Vale-dwarves loyal to Ersun Blackbear. Joined by Aeva Nordur-Vatn and Breanna Blackrose, the Resistance forces stand outside the gates, bearing the standards of Clans Ironfist and Blackbear foremost.

Brannigan Runestone stands on the gatehouse looking over the Resistance’s small host, a slate grey flag beside him, embroidered with a golden runic sigil of peace. A flag of parley, such as the Dwergar recognize them.

“Surrender you Runestone dog!” – Ersun Blackbear, opening proceedings.
Harold Oakenshield rolls his eyes, but despite how much he wants to say something, does not rebuke the dark-haired Dwergar lord.

“What are your terms?” – Brannigan Runestone, not biting at the taunts.

“Come down and we shall discuss them!” – Tremor Ironfist, sick of having to keep looking up and shouting to talk.

“I am not that great a fool as to leave my position. Not yet at any rate.” – Brannigan, slightly affronted. To his mind at least, the only reason he survived the assassinations which claimed the other commanders of Valewatch is because he was surrounded by guards that night, patrolling the walls. He knows that the moment he is separated from his own men, he is easy game.

“Fair enough, I’m just sick of having to look up to speak to you.” – Tremor, trying to appeal to Brannigan as one straight-talking dwarf to another.

“Look, I know I cannot keep Valewatch, and truth be told, I do not particularly want it. Give me some land around here, allow me to take a position as a lord of your Resistance and promise safe passage and an opportunity to serve for my men and I will pledge myself to your cause.” – Brannigan.

“We will give your Southbridge Fort as Clan Runestone’s seat, as soon as we take it from my brother.” – Tremor.

“And I have your word that no harm will come to me or my men?” – Brannigan.

“You have it. No harm will come to you and yours by my hand or those of my retinue. That is all I can guarantee.” – Tremor, admitting that his position is tenuous.

“Nor will it come from you and yours…” – Harold, growling in an undertone to Ersun Blackbear.

“Then by those terms, I surrender Valewatch to you.” – Brannigan Runestone.

Ersun Blackbear claims the keep as his own, granting rooms to each of the lords and their retinues. A council meeting is called for that evening, and Harrick Stonehammer looks particularly grim.

* * *

The companions find they have a few hours to spare before the lords are called together. Harold does his best to continue providing some training to his band of Invarrians, joined by Kel’Serrar’s archer corps and Bach.

Ladyhawk showed LD her ‘octopus dance’ here. This led to LD dying of laughter, preventing me from hearing much of our conversation.

Maebh:
Maebh goes into the forest with Toirneach, to both spend some quality time with her familiar and to scout out the surrounding area. She passes swiftly through her own handiwork, the burned woodland to the north and then spends some hours out on the wooded paths.

And then, some miles away from Valewatch, she spies tracks on the ground, heading north and away from Valewatch. Toirneach’s reaction confirms what she herself thought.
“Minotaurs!” – Delphi.

Krowavir…

“I freaking knew it!” – Delphi.

Breanna:
For the Leathe, the next few hours are quite pleasant, frolicking with Wolfgang in their own room off the side of the companions’ parlour. A pleasant interlude to their otherwise harsh lives.

“So you are with your marcwolf, Wolfgang von Markus…”
“Every time he says it, we win.” – LD.
“Now Wolfgang is a bit large than Bach, because you take better care of him. He’s also a bit fatter than Bach, because you feed him bad food.”
“Like people.” – Delphi, brightly.

Wolfgang is a bit larger than Bach, and it will not be long before Breanna is able to ride him into battle.

Harold:
The Invarrian duellist proves to be quite an impressive teacher and commander, at least of sentient creatures. His Invarrian duellists and the archers are coming together quite nicely, forming a handy little band of skirmishers. His efforts to integrate Bach are not coming along quite as well.

A few of his band are former farm hands and have some skill with animals, but even they struggle to deal with the unruly marcwolf, who seems to really only listen to Harold himself.

Kel’Serrar:
The Danann ranger can avoid being noticed if he wishes, and so he sets himself to the task of determining the general feeling of those who were attached to the Runestone household. On the whole, he finds that most don’t seem to be that fussed switching from the Loyalists to the Resistance.

Their opinions on Brannigan differ wildly. The common people find him quite dull, and a bit stupid. This is probably due to his reputation as being quite honourable and forthright. The soldiers however, love him, probably due to those same character traits. He is a commander who will actually ensure the safety of his own men.

Tremor and Aeva:
Tremor, with a kite-hawk sitting proudly on his shoulder, strides to the parlour of Brannigan Runestone himself and is eventually allowed in by the increasingly alarmed huscarls.

“Are you standing or sitting?” – Delphi.
“I’m sorry?” – Wings.
“Which one? It’s important.” – Delphi.
“Ah walking and then sitting?” – Wings.
“Okay, when you sit down, you find a small black and white cat curled up in your lap.” – Delphi.
“Aww, kitty.” – Ladyhawk.

Brannigan and Tremor take one comfortably upholstered chair each and servants come bearing a pint of ale for each of them. Tremor has no fear of being poisoned by this man and drinks happily.

“So, Tremor Godriksson has returned to take his place at the head of Clan Ironfist. But why would he come see me?” – Brannigan, quaffing his ale.

“I wanted to know just how you felt about this business. Are you actually with us for the long haul?” – Tremor, setting his half empty tankard on the table. The cat in his lap purrs contentedly.

“Having surrendered to you, our lives are now forfeit if we ever meet your brother. It is in my own best interests now to ensure we are successful.” – Brannigan. He is known to be a very poor liar, and both Aeva and Tremor feel he is telling the truth.

Aeva picks herself up and curls up in Brannigan’s lap instead. For his part, this day has just been so weird, he just absent-mindedly starts patting the little creature.

Maebh and Breanna:
Maebh is eventually joined by Breanna and Wolfgang, who add their own tracking ability to the cause. Maebh sends Toirneach back to Valewatch, telling him to stay safe, before the mage and assassin take to the trees, Wolfgang questing along on the ground beneath them.

They follow the tracks.

Tremor and Aeva:
After their visit with Brannigan, Tremor wanders through Valewatch with Aeva on his shoulder, familiarising themselves with the fortress.

Likely to be useful in the future...

Maebh and Breanna:
The two companions follow Wolfgang through the undergrowth, and do not lose the trail, albeit it is easy enough to recognise. After some time however, they realise that if they want to be on time for the evening's council meeting, they had best head back.

They do file away that this particular pack seems to have a range of at least two miles from their den.

Tremor, Aeva and Kel'Serrar:
Unfortunately, wandering through the streets of a recently conquered fortress is a dangerous pastime.

Perception Checks from Tremor and Aeva and a Luck Check from Kel'Serrar. All pass.

Ahead of Kel'Serrar, looking around the corner stands a single dwarf, clad in dark leathers with a knife in hand. While the Danann does not know that Tremor and Aeva are nearby, the buildings concealing them from his sight, he does realise very swiftly that the Dwergar assassin before him is likely up to no good.

"I think I hear something..." - Tremor, whispering under his breath.

"There's more than one something." - Aeva's Whispering Wind.
At that moment there is a cacophony of noise emanating from the ground beneath the assassin, and he cannot help but jump in fright. He panics and bolts directly into the path of Kel'Serrar's arrow, which catches the unfortunate assassin in the temple, dropping him immediately.

At the sound, two more would-be assassins leap out, one swinging a shortsword at Tremor, causing Aeva to flutter slightly on his shoulder as the engineer dodges away. The other levels a loaded crossbow at the pair and shoots, but the bolt passes harmlessly over Tremor's shoulder.

Aeva glares at the crossbowman and he gives a growled curse before he is unable to move.

The other assassin dodges a number of Tremor's strikes before another arrow smashes into the side of his head, killing him instantly.

"Thanks Kel!" - Tremor, recognising the arrow, before running towards the still Snared crossbowman.

Before he gets close however, the assassin breaks free, throws his crossbow away and frantically begins running. Aeva takes off and manages to hit him with enough of a Snare to slow him for a few moments, which is all Tremor needs to cut the gap between them.

The engineer smashes into the assassin with the force of a dwarven battering ram. Tremor's quite a heavy little guy, so when he gets some speed up it takes a lot to stop him.

The assassin is rolled over onto his back, groaning in agony. Above him, Tremor puts a heavy boot on his chest and Aeva lands on his shoulder once more.

"You're not going anywhere." - Tremor, before punching the assassin in the face.

* * *

The companions are gathered in their quarters, the assassin Tremor carried in tied to the table on his back.

"Who are you working for?" - Tremor, holding the vial of Red Potion threateningly above his head.

The captive refuses to speak, so Tremor forces him to swallow a drop.

He screams in agony.

"Again, who are you working for?" - Tremor, holding the vial threateningly once more.

The captive still refuses, and so this scene repeats itself for some time.

"Surely throwing him in the dungeon and repeating this over the next few days would be more productive?" - Harold, under his breath to Maebh and Aeva.

"If we did that, we would need to check for any kind of poisons he might use on himself." - Maebh.

"Very good point." - Harold, nodding in agreement.

"The dungeons are not exactly the safest place amongst these people though." - Aeva, pointing out that bad things happen in Dwergar dungeons.

"This is getting nowhere." - Breanna, to the room.

"Before we put him in the dungeons, you'd better strip-search him." - Maebh.

Tremor and Breanna set about the task ruthlessly, with more enthusiasm with ability. It isn't until Kel'Serrar offers his trained eye to the task that they start to uncover some items of interest.

First is a small pouch of coins, which they split equally in front of the would-be assassin with much glee. Then, two more daggers which were missed earlier. Then, a little white pill which Breanna sniffs and identifies as a fast-acting poison. And finally a small note.



Tremor Godriksson is your target. Eliminate him.


Tremor's full name is Tremor Godriksson of House Ironfist, but his strained relationship with his father led to him adopting the clan name as his use-name in southern lands.

* * *

After stripping their captive, rather than taking him to the dungeons, the companions decide to take him with them to the council meeting and see if they can determine who wants Tremor dead.

The meeting is convened in a long hall in Valewatch keep, and is again headed by Harrick Stonehammer, although this time Ersun Blackbear is in the head place.

This time, the meeting is joined by Brannigan Runestone and his small retinue. He is accompanied only by the huscarl who slew his father's councilors and an old dwarf-woman.

"I shall begin by telling you all that the situation across the board has become quite grim. Gamrick Odensson, Dame Grimstone's steward, and now Castellan of The Crag, has sent ill tidings. The Crag is currently besieged by a force approximately two thousand strong. The enemy commander has, as yet, made no attempt to storm the city, which has led Odensson to believe that there is more to it than meets the eye.

Reports from my own godsmen to the south suggest that the southern border-forts are being stripped of their garrisons. They are joining together on the plains around Borsa." - Harrick, his face grim.

"They are coming for us here then." - Tremor.

"In addition to this, now that we have become an open threat, the Sons of Wyre have abandoned the Valleywood. They too are currently heading south, and have razed massive portions of the forest behind them. Many valley clans have been driven out, south onto the plains or east, deep into the mountains. We don't know what the Sons are doing either. Every village they have come across has been pillaged, which suggests they have gone rogue. And with them currently between us and Borsa, they may prove to be an issue moving against that city too." - Harrick.

"Contact with the Mountain Finches has been lost too. And there is a not inconsiderable amount of troubling information regarding the other valley clans." - Ersun Blackbear.

"Aye, but that is not the only information we have. In fact, it may not even be the most important..." - Frieda Grimstone.

"Aye, first of all I have correspondence from one of my godsmen in the south specifically pertaining to you Tremor. According to Bonil Fredriksson, Bain is claiming that Tremor is here is only a bastard, and not actually Lord Godrik's heir. Bain apparently has a letter, signed by your lord father, explaining the presence of the Bad Blood in you, when none of the Ironfist bloodline has born that taint in seven generations." - Harrick, eyes glinting with a steely light.

Everyone turns to the companions, and there is anger and dissent in their eyes.

"Is it true?" - Harrick, simply, putting the letter down.

"I do not know." - Tremor, quietly.

"That is not good enough!" - Frieda, angrily but she is cut off by Stonehammer.

"Enough Dame Grimstone! Let him speak." - Harrick, with authority.

"I believe I am the heir, and was raised as such before my exile." - Tremor.

"According to Bonil, your father's signature and seal are authentic and he believes it is proof that, before he died, your father believed you to be a bastard." - Harrick, quietly.

Arald Redclay stands.

"Do you not see? None of this matters. We have already thrown our lot in with him, bastard or no. If we turn him in now, and claim we are duped, our lives are still forfeit. We must see this through, if for no other cause than self-preservation." - Arald Redclay.

Everyone in the room accedes the point, though that does not make them any happier about it. Arald retakes his seat and returns Tremor's grateful nod.

"Okay, now here's a pretty little offer we have been given... I have word from Theyne Balof Redclay, the current lord of Lord's Ridge. He offers us his alliance and all of his troops in exchange for allowing him to keep Lord's Ridge." - Frieda Grimstone, with a slightly unseemly amount of glee.

From what the companions can make out, Grimstone and Blackbear seem quite keen and seem to believe replacing Balof with Arald would be quite difficult. After all, Arald was not very popular to begin with, which was why Balof was able to take over so easily. Stonehammer and Grimstone seem much harder to read, though Stonehammer at least seems to be thinking about it. Redclay himself of course, is totally against it and looks to already be planning an escape, his retinue all fingering weapons.

"I believe this would be a bad move. The Resistance would get a bad reputation very quickly if we appeared to drop an existing ally in exchange for an unproven one, who appears to be asking to join simply to be on the winning side. We have taken two strongholds, in the middle of winter. That is winnig my friends. We have the momentum, we can win without him." - Harold, with a triumphant flicker in his eye.

"You are correct Herr Oakenshield, but look around you. The situation has changed in those very same two weeks. The Crag is besieged by a force numbering in the thousands, and Valewatch is surrounded by a burnt out wasteland. What we have taken in two weeks, we stand to lose immediately. We have the momentum yes, but momentum can only carry you so far." - Frieda, laying out her desperation.

"Indeed, we are hardly the winning side. There must be somewhat else going on..." - Harrick. thoughtful.

"Hang that, at the very least it is easier for us to keep a ruler in place than to depose yet another, and replace him with one the people have already risen up against. If we do not need to commit troops to Lord's Ridge, that just pushes our eventual assault on Bain's fortress forward." - Ersun, putting it bluntly.

"We would need to take Borsa before we take Nordtarnet Fortress anyway." - Tremor, grim.

"I'm pretty sure Lord's Ridge was to be the next target, was it not? That was our agreement I believe." - Arald, icy.

"If we take Lord's Ridge by force, we leave our flank open to attack from the force mustering outside Borsa. We must strike there first, and secure Valewatch." - Ersun, pressing his advantage.

"But then if that force may be led elsewhere, and away from a position to strike, even ambushed and destroyed, then that would eliminate the need to take Borsa..." - Harold, thoughtful.

Indeed, Harold's words are taking root even amongst the retinues of Grimstone and Blackbear. Interestingly, Brannigan Runestone has said nothing throughout the meeting, but the old woman has been whispering in his ear and he nods in agreement every now and then. Clearly, she is providing him with sound advice.

Tremor then stands, having thought about his next course of action.

"Due to this new information, I request that we postpone this council meeting for an hour. I must convene with Lord Redclay in private. Dame Grimstone, I request that you keep that offer secret and do not let that information become common knowledge. Herr Stonehammer, I ask you do the same with the knowledge of my parentage." - Tremor, regally.

"Because it is all bull****." - Harold, with finality.

* * *

The companions take a moment to pick each other's brains in the dining room of their parlour before meeting with Arald Redclay.

"This is a **** situation isn't it? Obviously the younger brother is hedging here, trying to play both sides of the conflict. I do feel for Arald, but it would be pretty handy just having a stronghold handed over to us." - Maebh, thoughtful, lounging on a low leather chair.

"I'll just voice the obvious thing I think everyone is thinking, namely that it's a trap." - Kel'Serrar, sitting across from the cold fireplace, staring at the ashes.

"Yeah." - Harold, sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

"I'm just thinking, that we have made this alliance with Arald, and that if we break that off it would not be a good look for us if we broke that when they seem perfectly willing to hold to their side of the bargain." - Aeva, leaning against the wall.

"He did sign your contract, did he not?" - Kel'Serrar, deep in thought.

"Arald? Aye, he did." - Tremor, pacing the length of the room.

"Anyway, the younger brother sided with Bain. Screw him." - Breanna, lying on the floor, throwing and catching a peach.

"True, we can screw him. Say yes and stab him in the night." - Maebh, warming to the theme.

"The offer does seem too good to be true. We've had a lot of luck, and therefore our tricks have worked, but our luck won't hold forever. We need a good show of force, something tangible we can use to put us in a favourable position. Once there, we may not need Balof, and we can dispose of him. Unfortunately, this offer comes at a time where we are looking vulnerable, so naturally it appears in our best interests to take it, to improve our position. What we need is a pitched battle we can win, which takes some pressure off us to show we actually have a legitimate chance to hold what we take." - Harold, caught in a tangent.

"But can we win a pitched battle Harold?" - Barandin, sitting at the table too.

"That's the only problem I guess. At the moment, with forces tied up in The Crag and enemy forces mustering outside Borsa, we're not in a good spot, but they are still reacting to us, and that is a good thing. It's just like duelling. If you force your opponent to go on the defensive and start countering you, eventually he will make a mistake and you have your opening. We need a place which is no longer heavily guarded, somewhere we can crush, and force them to react." - Harold, warming to his theme.

"So a river assault on one of the southern border-forts?" - Barandin, trying to be helpful.

"Maybe..." - Harold, getting frustrated.

"So a distraction then, to draw the forces from The Crag?" - Maebh, an open question to the room.

"No, the longer The Crag is besieged and holds, the better." - Harold.

"Yes, that fortress has supplies to last well and truly into the summer. On the other hand, that siege ties up two thousand soldiers who could be garrisoning Nordtarnet fortress or Borsa for instance. The longer they stay out there in the winter, the more they will lose due to desertion, the conditions, perhaps lack of food, any number of things can occur to a campaigning army in the depths of winter." - Tremor, perking up a bit.

"And they are besieging a fortress whose defensive tactic is to literally sit tight and let the enemy die around them. We only stormed it because we were desperate and we had a plan. They don't seem to have that, so far as we know." - Harold.

"So we need something else then..." - Barandin, to the agreement of the other companions.

“What about the Sons of Wyre then? Can we hit them?” – Maebh.

“The Mountain Finches told me that they were around three battallions, each around five-score strong.” – Breanna, thoughtful.

“Historically, if I remember correctly, the company has numbered around five hundred.” – Tremor, recalling the numbers from the war against Rivervind.

“Both sets of information are now out of date anyway, so we can’t set too much stock in either of them.” – Barandin.

“True, but I think we could probably handle even five hundred…” – Aeva, thoughtful.

“They are said to be quite savage, and by all accounts their leader lives up to his title.” – Kel’Serrar, referring to Ragnak the Butcher.

“Oh, speaking of savage creatures in the woods, Breanna and I tracked a pack of Krowavir north. We didn’t find their den, but they do seem to be active in this area.” – Maebh.

“I may be able to communicate with them…” – Aeva, trying to formulate a plan.

“Beasts like that are unlikely to want to listen lass.” – Barandin.



With that, the, companions split, with Tremor and Harold finally going to see Arald Redclay and Brannigan Runestone respectively. While this happens, Kel’Serrar takes the opportunity to gauge the mood of the Blackbear and Grimstone camps and Breanna and Maebh taking some time for a bite to eat and a chat with Wolfgang and Toirneach respectively.

Tremor and Aeva:

“Before we go any further, I want to assure you that I have no intention of breaking our contract. As far as I am concerned, your brother has done to you what mine has done to me. Which, as you can imagine, makes me more inclined to stay with you than side with your brother.” – Tremor, cutting all the bull****.

“That is actually quite the relief. Despite your brother’s most recent gambit, your word and actions still carry a lot of weight. If I can take you at your word, and so far your word has been good, then I shall rest easier.” – Arald Redclay, looking marginally more relaxed than he did when Tremor came into his quarters.

“Yes, speaking of that, my brother has well and truly dragged my name through the dirt. If you can offer me any assistance in trying to control this situation, I would appreciate it greatly.” – Tremor, concerned.

“I’m afraid there really is not much I can do. I will have my agents go to work halting the rumours, but such things have a way of getting out by themselves. And if I back you more openly, you risk turning your own people against you even more.” – Arald, falling back into political manouevering mode.

“That will have to be enough. I trust your spy network is still in place?” – Tremor, acceding the point and taking another sip of Redclay’s excellent mead.

“It is, though I have cause to doubt the efficiency of my agents after they failed to alert me to my brother’s most recent play. Actually, having said that I do have something to bring to your attention, evidence of insurrection within your own retinue.” – Arald, pulling a letter from his pocket which he hands to Tremor.

Tremor takes the surprisingly heavy letter and is astounded to learn that it is addressed to Breanna Blackrose. He opens it to find two crowns, and gasps at the sheer weight of gold in this little envelope.

Then he reads the note attached:



As promised, payment for the successful killing of Mordin Grimstone.

10/10 would use this service again.


“You killed Papa!” – Ladyhawk and Delphi together, as LD laughs in the background.

On the contrary, Breanna did not actually kill the late Lord Grimstone, but did claim the contract after his death.

Which is why Breanna has so much money. She’s been using her assassin contacts to claim contracts on just about every dead person the company has run across since the very beginning. It is for a somewhat noble cause though.

Harold:

“Now you know that you will not be able to stay here and guard this place right? Blackbear won’t trust you.” – Harold, blunt.

“Oh, I know. I was planning on moving out with a small force to harry the opposition around The Crag, provided that course of action is ratified by the council.” – Brannigan, equally blunt.

“On the contrary Brannigan, we have an alternate course of action, one which will strike a more decisive blow. We want to use your force to wipe out the Sons of Wyre. Now, do you have any sway over or accord with any of the Valley Clans?” – Harold, with an ambitious gleam in his eye.

“I have neither, but I would certainly be willing to lead that force.” – Brannigan, proud.

“Very good.” – Harold, before sharing a toast with his new lieutenant.

Back soon guys. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2016-01-29, 10:50 AM
The meeting is reconvened and Harrick Stonehammer cuts straight to the chase.

“Right, let’s get straight to it then. Who is in favour of courting Balof Redclay?” – Harrick Stonehammer, getting to the point.

Frieda Grimstone puts her hand up immediately, and surprisingly, so does Brannigan Runestone. He doesn’t look happy about it, but judging by the satisfied look on her face, his elderly off-sider won that particular argument.

“I wish to see how Herr Ironfist votes before I cast my own.” – Ersun Blackbear, which draws raised eyebrows from plenty gathered for the council.

“And there is no way in hell I am going to agree to it.” – Tremor, with a growl.

Ersun Blackbear nods his head in affirmation. The vote stands with two in favour and three opposed, and Arald Redclay maintains his place on the council.

“Okay, our next piece of business, reports from Nordtarnet Fortress. With Bain out pillaging and what have you, the castellan of Nordtarnet is General Tarik Hammerstrike. Under his rule, almost everyone in and around the fortress have been reduced to thralls. And apparently, our recent activities have made him very paranoid.” – Harrick.

“Paranoid? How so?” – Frieda Grimstone.

“He’s offering a bounty on every bird or bat shot down. Six sulvers per wing.” – Harrick.

“Whoops. I am now officially a cat on your shoulder, not a bird.” – Delphi.

There is a fair bit of concerned muttering amongst the various camps before Stonehammer gets everyone back on track.

So, my lords, what is our next move?" - Harrick.

"Well, I do have a plan, and it is quite bold. We take six-to-seven hundred troops out, leaving a fair garrison here in Valewatch. And then, we take down the Sons of Wyre. They've been a thorn in our side long enough and they have made no friends among the hill clans. So we let it be known we want them dead, and that we will accept any aid from the clans they are willing to offer. Lord Runestone and myself will lead the force." - Harold, sweeping his hand over the map in the centre of the table.

"Well the other option that we may have would be to offer them an improved contract..." - Harrick, sitting back in his seat.

That suggestion is knocked back vehemently by the assembled lords. They have no intention of allowing their recently acquired mining assets from The Crag go to some feral mercenaries. No, killing them off would be a far better option.

"From there, we go south to scout around Borsa." - Harold, continuing his plan.

"As an aside, I will now have to replace 'caw-caw mother****er,' with 'paw-paw mother****er." - Delphi.

The lords agree with this plan in a unanimous vote, leaving Harold to sort out the details. Amazingly, somehow, Harold has ended up as the Resistance's military mastermind...

"This will end fantastically...." - Dev, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"With that, my lords, our meeting is adjourned." - Harrick, getting ready to stand.

"Actually, I have one more piece of business." - Tremor, standing up.

He beckons to Barandin who leaves the room and swiftly returns with their captured assassin, who is thrown bodily onto the centre table. As the incapacitated dwarf is thrown onto the stone surface, the companions scan the faces of everyone present.

"This one. Who knows him?" - Tremor.

The players all fluff their Perception Checks.
"Can we re-roll those?" - Wings.
"Aaaah, no."
"What if we all throw in a Luck Point?" - Dev.
"Yeah sure, if everyone throws in a Luck Point."
"I'm not giving up a Luck Point for that ****." - Ladyhawk.
"I will throw in 2." - Delphi.
"Ah fine, I'll put in 1. But that means I only have 4 now!" - Ladyhawk, unhappy.
"I only have 3, calm your tit." - Delphi.
"Love how you're only to calm one tit. Let the other run wild." - LD
"It's your party tit." - Delphi.
The companions have their eyes trained on the other lords, but only Kel'Serrar notices that both Blackbear and Grimstone have momentary flickers of recognition. It could just be a trick of the light, but he is convinced they know of the assassin.

"They're in cahoots! Cahoots I say!" - Delphi.

He looks around surreptitiously, but no one else seems to have noticed what he did. Thinking quickly, he starts casting under his breath.

A soft silver light begins to emanate from the assassin, and then Grimstone and Blackbear. It is very subtle, and hard to notice, but a few notice it and look around, to mutters of discontent.

"Thank you again Kel." - Tremor, under his breath.

"So it appears none here know of this man? What do you wish to do with him?" - Harrick, oblivious to the light.

"Lord Redclay, do you have anyone who is particularly good at interrogation?" - Harold, thinking to assure the man that they do not suspect him.

"Why don't we torture him?" - LD, helpfully.

"Yeah, quick suggestion. Why don't we torture him right here and now, in front of all the lords and then keep an eye on them to determine who is getting all uppity?" - Delphi.

"Because torture is only for amateurs and sadists." - Dev, primly.

"Well, yeah." - Delphi, rolling her eyes and not elaborating on which she is.

"I've got a ****-ton of Hypnotism." - Ladyhawk, also trying to be helpful.

"I have skilled interrogators." - Ersun Blackbear, gruffly speaking up.

"You do?" - Tremor, taken aback.

"I do. It's my castle." - Ersun, taking the opportunity to remind Tremor just where he stands.

"That will not be neccessary. If we want secrets pried from him, then I can take care of it." - Maebh, standing and rolling up her sleeves.

"Most of you, I would hope, are unaware that this man and his compatriots made an attempt on my life earlier today. If not for my retinue, I would likely not be standing here. As such, I wanted you all to be present for this cretin's... confession." - Tremor, malevolently before taking his seat once more.

With that, Maebh applies her mental power to bending the barely conscious Dwergar to her will. Her fingertips glow with an amber light as they dance before the assassin's unfocussed eyes. Just as he begins to come to, he finds his gaze locked by the mage's stare, unable to turn away from her terrible golden eyes.

"Who hired you?" - Maebh, calmly an surely.

The Dwergar has an insanely strong will, but against Maebh he is unable to resist.

"It was..."- The assassin, before biting down hard on his tongue.

The mage applies another surge of will and the captive's resolve falters. His hand rebels against him and he points to one Dwergar standing in Ersun Blackbear's retinue.

That councillor looks around at the room and makes a run for the door, where Harold's Invarrians stand guard.

"Hold him!" - Harold, commanding his men.

The councillor has a fair crack, even managing to shrug off one of Aeva's Snares, but is eventually brought down by the Invarrians, who grab him by the arms and force-march him to the table.

"Did Ersun Blackbear order this attack?" - Maebh, to the gasps of those around the table. Blackbear himself looks tense.

The assassin shakes and groans but eventually shakes his head, looking dejected.

He then turns his head to look at Tremor, but his eyes never focus on the Ironfist scion.

"Your half-brother wants you dead." - The assassin, voice raw.

"Of course." - Tremor, before jumping onto the table and violently shoving a dagger into the would-be assassin's throat.

He then kicks the body off the table, jumping down after it.

"Next prisoner." - Tremor, angrily.

Maebh flicks the blood off her hand in vague annoyance before grabbing the squirming councillor and throwing him onto the table. As an aside, the map of Nordtarnet is thoroughly ruined now.

This captive proves far easier to dominate.

"Who do you work for? Did you order the hit on someone else's orders?" - Maebh, serene despite the bloodstains.

"Bain Ironfist..." - The captive, completely monotone.

"How did he get the order to you?" - Maebh.

"By raven." - The captive.

"What do you know of his plans?" - Maebh.

"He wanted his half-brother dead. I got money to organise the assassination and to ensure it was carried out." - The captive.

"How much money?" - Tremor, hoping to capitalise on this information.

The captive names a considerable sum.

"Where is the money?" - Maebh.

"In my living room." - The captive.

"Where is your house?" - Maebh.

The captive gives the address.

"Bye." - Kel'Serrar, who swiftly leaves the room.

"Did anyone in this room know of the assassination attempt?" - Maebh, exerting her influence once more.

"Arrrrgh.... No!" - The captive, straining under the pressure. Maebh gets the impression that he has fought the compulsion just enough to lie. She redoubles her efforts.

"Again, did anyone know of the assassination!?" - Maebh, starting to lose patience.

The captive groans and writhes again, and then nods.

Maebh gives a small sigh of exasperation and holds a flaming hand to the captive's face.

"If you don't tell me now and make this easy, I will burn your eyes out one at a time." - Maebh, menacingly.

The captive nods and points out a Dwergar each from the Blackbear and Grimstone retinues and a Northmann from Redclay's. Redclay's councillor immediately takes something small from a pouch at his belt and swallows it, while Grimstone's and Blackbear's leg it. One of them is caught by Harold's Invarrians, the other gets through them, but is completely immobilised by Aeva's Snare.

Redclay's councillor has fallen to the ground, mouth frothing and writhing around in agony.

"Is there anything else we should know?" - Maebh, quietly, as the other conspirators are apprehended.

The captive is straining and trying to get free but is unsuccessful and this experience is breaking his mind.

"No." - The captive, gasping in a ruined voice.

"Then you no longer serve any purpose to me." - Maebh, before snapping his neck with a brief surge of magic.

Harold then replaces the corpse with the immobile body of the councillor who made it past the Invarrians.

The process repeats itself, and they discover that this particular captive was not particularly high up in the chain, only responsible for passing on information. Harold puts it to him that he is to work as a double-double agent, and the captive councillor agrees, though not without some snarkiness.

"Before we put him to work though, I will see him punished." - Ersun Blackbear, very grim, who has two of his huscarls take the traitorous councillor away.

The other councillor is more of the same when his turn comes up, until Harold asks who in this room is higher in this conspiracy.

No one else notices it, but Aeva, in the form of a small black and white cat, paws engulfed in flames, sees the man's eyes flick over to Frieda Grimstone. A split second later, he denies anyone being present higher than himself.

Aeva then turns back into her usual form, takes a knife and holds it to the captive's throat.

"Do not presume to lie to us. We have ways of ferreting out the truth." - Aeva, coldly.

The captive actually appears quite subdued by this and provides them with the name and details of a Dwergar who is currently acting as the spymaster in The Crag.

"I shall have word sent to have him executed immediately." - Frieda Grimstone, upon hearing of the spy.

"No, we should not just kill him. We kill him and another we do not know of takes his place. Better to somehow limit the information he can send out. You should not kill spies until they have outlived their usefulness." - Harold, who then takes a dagger and runs it across the last captive's throat.

"Had he outlived his usefulness, Herrn Oakenshield?" - Harrick, disapprovingly.

"Indeed, we got all we needed from him." - Harold, trying to assert the companions' dominance.

"I would be tempted to agree with you, but this spy is too dangerous. And beside that, I am the ruler of The Crag, and you, Herrn Oakenshield, will not tell me how to run my own keep." - Frieda, asserting her own authority.

"This is not about your bloody pride! Do you want to die? Because I sure as hell don't. I still have things I need to do. So if you want to win this war, and hold your keep, then you will capture this spymaster and use him against Tremor's traitorous prick of a brother." - Harold, impassioned.

After that, the other lords shout Frieda down and agree with Harold's plan.

"Very well, if it is indeed the will of the council. I will have word sent that he is to be captured and not harmed." - Frieda, dejected.

"I wish to see that message before it is sent." - Tremor and Harrick, practically simultaneously.

Frieda agrees to that request and writes it out immediately.

* * *

Unfortunately, actually obtaining the troops neccessary for the plan is much harder than the companions anticipated. Brannigan is able to bring 100 trained soldiers, and the other lords are eventually talked around to pledging around fifty warriors each.

The composition:
- 100 heavy Dwergar skirmishers, under the command of Brannigan Runestone.
- 80 archers of mixed race, drawn from Arald Redclay's men and those Kel'Serrar has been training.
- 50 Dwergar skirmishers drawn from the recently defeated garrison of Valewatch, ostensibly Ersun Blackbear's offering.
- 80 Dwergar heavy infantry, Frieda Grimstone's tithe. They are well-equipped, but poorly trained.
- 12 lightly armed Dwergar partisans, all that Harrick Stonehammer has to give.
- 4 Invarrian duellists, Harold's personal guard.

"What of these Krowavir? Can we use them somehow?" - Tremor, to the other companions as they make ready to leave Valewatch.

"Well they will travel as far as they need to for food. This particular pack ranged at least two miles from their den, but as far as we could tell, never got to within a mile of Valewatch." - Maebh, telling what she knows of the species.

"Bringing them into this could be very dangerous for us." - Kel'Serrar, splitting the party's latest ill-gotten gains equally.

Remember the money the captured conspirator was paid to have Tremor assassinated? And speaking of ill-gotten gains, Tremor has kept Breanna's payment for 'killing' Mordin Grimstone.

The companions give a lot of thought to the best way to lure the Sons of Wyre into an ambush, and after a lot of debate, which goes around in circles completely. Maebh is set on using the Krowavir, trying to kill two birds with one stone, but Harold disagrees strongly. He can't see how the troops the companions have at hand would survive a drawn-out retreat, not only with an experienced band of professional mercenaries, but the second variable of uncontrollable slaughter-beasts. He does have a point.

They also discuss how just defeating the Sons of Wyre is not the only objective. Harold is adamant that the Resistance needs to show they are capable of winning an honest pitched battle to command the respect of the other lords of Nordtarnet. It is hard to disagree with him on this point, but Maebh and Aeva in particular feel that this is too much like underestimating the Sons of Wyre.

"We're taking on a large, experienced band of veteran mercenaries, who have been kicking around for decades now, if they are the same company that fought with Tremor before his exile. And we're going to take them on with a smaller, poorly-trained force. I'm just trying to come up with advantages we can use to reduce casualties." - Maebh, making some excellent points.

"There are any number of advantages we can use, in terms of favourable ground, chokepoints, flanking manouevres..." - Harold, countering.

"Yes, and we should use them too! If we do not, this is going to be a bloodbath. Let's not forget who the real enemy is here. If the Sons of Wyre go down, I don't think Bain gives a ****. But we can't afford to lose any men, or we weaken the force we really want to be hitting Bain with. We don't have anything like enough to begin with." - Maebh, growing impassioned herself.

"Using the Krowavir might cost us even more again." - Harold, stubbornly refusing to yield the point.

"But we don't even need to send any troops... I can reach the Krowavir and lure them to a point. Then we get in touch with the Sons of Wyre, tell them Tremor's on the move and give them a location and watch as the two paths intersect." - Aeva, quietly.

In the commotion though she is ignored. Only Breanna seems to have heard her.

They resolve to send out scouts to determine a reasonable holdfast to lure the Sons of Wyre to. Meanwhile, Maebh, Aeva, Kel'Serrar and Breanna head out to get an up-to-date idea regarding their numbers of composition. While they are doing that, Tremor goes about his kingly duties.

Messengers sent to the hill-clans return over the next few days with grim news.
- The Baersonling tribe fled the Valleywood and drifted south, seeking refuge on the plains around Borsa. The entire tribe has been enslaved and put to work fortifying the city.
- The Rocklad and the Grey Crows were also driven out of the Valleywood by the Sons of Wyre, and are currently disposessed and roaming the lands south of Valewatch. The scout sent to find the Rocklad has not returned, and disturbing reports have suggested that the Rocklad, in their desperation have resorted to cannibalism.
- The Mountain Finches are shooting at anyone who encroaches on their territory. The scout sent to them returned with three arrow wounds, and no news regarding their wellfare.

It would appear that no aid will come from the hill-clans.

Maebh, Kel'Serrar, Breanna and Aeva:
The companions learn that, as far as they can tell, the reports the Mountain Finches gave Breanna were correct. They find three battalions, each approximately 100 strong. The northern-most battalion, a well-organised and drilled company of hardened skirmishers appears to be engaged in a running engagement with the Rocklad.

As for the Rocklad, they appear to have quickly turned from a large clan of nomadic hillmenn, into a horde of shrieking, murderous lunatic beasts. Kel'Serrar, Breanna and Maebh are astonished to find that the Corpsewalkers seem to have followed them so far north...

"I do wonder if they can be communicated with..." - Maebh, during the couting party's limited down-time.

"I would be willing to bet they can be communicated with, in the sense that they will know we don't like them when we set them on fire." - Kel'Serrar, maintaining his arrows.

Aeva has asked them to hang around for a while as she goes off to acquire a little more muscle. She returns that night with a very self-satisfied look on her face...

Harold:
Harold has picked through his scout's reports, and by the Golden God, have they found a spot for him.

A long winding canyon through the hills leads to the ruins of an abandoned fortress, long since forgotten by civilisation. It boasts three easily-defensible chokepoints, easily-repairable fortifications in addition to reasonably intact walls and a potential escape route under the hills.

Endelige-Faestning, the Last Redoubt.

He spends a fair amount of time going over a ground-map of the Redoubt with Tremor, who gives his own input on the re-fortification.

Over the course of the week, Harold and Tremor oversee the troops heading to and rebuilding Last Redoubt. They spend particular time carving two waiting bays into the canyon walls, which will conceal large portions of the defenders ready to ambush the Sons of Wyre when they assault.

* * *

It is made known to the Sons of Wyre that Tremor Ironfist will be making his way to a ruined fortress in the hills, with only a small honourguard. They are also led to believe that Bain has tripled the bounty on his brother's head.

And so the battallions, trailed by the Rocklad, make their move north towards Last Redoubt.

* * *

Within the fortress, the companions stand ready. Breanna waits above the entrance of the canyon, a pile of heavy boulders hidden beside her, ready to be dropped upon the unsupecting mercenaries.

Further inside, Brannigan and Tremor stand ready with their personal troops around them. When the enemy commit to their assault, Brannigan will lead his force forward, as the first line of defence. Before them stretches a pit of stakes, covered with cunningly engineered planks which will drop away when stepped upon, leaving only a very narrow path through. Harold and Aeva stand on either side with their skirmishers, on either side of the canyon, hiding in the constructed alcoves. Kel'Serrar and Aeva have spent quite some time perfecting an illusion of a rocky wall, to hide the warriors within.

Above, Maebh and Kel'Serrar lie in wait with their archers, ready to rain down hell.

Another hidden ditch lies before the reserves waiting with Tremor, the force of Grimstone heavy infantry. Further beyond them, the horses and marcwolves are tethered within what the companions are referring to as the keep. It is really just a small area partially surrounded by another palisade which blocks off the path under the hills.

* * *

A small party of light horsemen scout the canyon out. They dismount and look around, but do not pass the line of bushes the companions have left to grow at the mouth of the canyon. As such, they do not see anything of importance, save for perhaps the potential landslide Breanna is watching over.

The companions are, of course, very tense, but the scouts go no further, obviously fearing an ambush.

Overhead, the sky darkens. Heavy clouds scud across the sky and a light misting rain falls. The scouts mount up once more and leave.

From her vantage point, Maebh releases her hold on the weather and smiles.

* * *

The next day, the weather has not improved and the scouts return. Fifteen light horsemen dismount and start to hack their way through the shrubbery.

They are careful however, and uncover the pit of stakes. Concerned by this, the scouts immediately rush back to their horses.

Thinking quickly, Breanna tries to startle the mounts with a Corpsewalker shriek, but is wracked with daemonic energy as she draws on too much. She is successful, and the horses panic and bolt. The scouts appear much the same, seeing as they have been dealing with Corpsewalkers themselves for some time now.

In pain, Breanna cannot help but elicit a groan of pain, and is astonished that it made no noise. She tries to whisper to herself, but with a growing panic, realises that she cannot make any vocalisations at all.

Due to the Miscast, Breanna cannot vocalise for the next five hours.
"Hooray!" - The party.
Unfortunately, without her voice, she is also without her magic...
"Luckily I have knives and rage." - LD.

The scouts return, having found their horses, around two hours later. Behind them are a troop of approximately 50 skirmishers, well-equipped and hardy veterans. Further behind them are a small group of around 10 men carrying wide wooden planks. They are armed only with daggers and wear no armour, and the companions deduce that they are sappers, combat-engineers.

The scouts dismount.

"We heard Rocklad in the area, so you must be cautious. That pit ahead is going to cause serious trouble going in, so we need to make sure we can clear it." - The lead scout.

Only Breanna is in a position to hear or see him, but of course has no way of warning her companions.

With that, the skirmishers beat their way through the gorse, the front ranks with axes at the ready, the rear with shortbows, arrows already nocked. They come to the pit, and still wary, cross after the sappers place their bridges. Ten of the archers follow the axemen, the other twenty remain on their initial side of the pit, arrows trained on the slightest of movement. The sappers retreat beyond the gorse.

The axemen spread throughout the canyon floor, covering ground, looking for traps and ambushes. They are a well-drilled unit, and have probably performed sweeps like this plenty of times. They keep looking up at the ledges where the companion's archers remain hidden. It is obvious that they are well-aware that this is a killing-ground.

Tremor takes the initiative and reveals himself at the head of his eighty Grimstone spears, walking out to stand just before the rebuilt palisade at the end of the canyon.

The axemen immediately run for cover, and the archers loose a volley. A few arrows land amidst the Ironfist scion's troops, but they are ineffectual. One literally bounces off Tremor's chain hauberk. The ten archers scatter too, finding plentiful cover on the canyon floor.

"Tremor Ironfist, we are coming for your head!" - Random Son of Wyre skirmisher.

The companions all have a bit of a laugh at that.

The squad of twenty archers however do not spend their arrows. Instead they hold, waiting to shoot at any new threat. Which is no laughing matter.

Tremor, having spooked the skirmishers, pulls back beyond the palisade. In return, the skirmishers fall back themselves, flitting from cover to cover.

The retreat is going well for the mercenaries until Harold comes charging out of his alcove, a wave of furious Dwergar behind him in a wave of hacking, bearded maniacs. Aeva commands her force to charge too, and then wills herself into a new, powerful form. A moment later, a gigantic tawny dagger-lion leaps from the alcove, tackles two axemen to the ground and leaves them for dead. Already, Aeva/Lion is hunting the sappers. She takes two minor flesh wounds, but they do not deter her from her targets.

Harold scythes through skirmishers like a hot knife through butter, dropping twelve in a matter of seconds. The Invarrian is quite literally a whirlwind of death, leaving no survivors within reach of his blades.

Meanwhile, the sappers try to retreat in the face of Aeva's ferocity as she downs three of them. One manages to get back up, cradling a lacerated arm, but the other two are not nearly so lucky.

In the chaos, Harold is able to put another two skirmishers to the sword, but with his own troops around him, he is starting to run out of targets. On the plus side, such is the Invarrian's skill at arms, none can touch him.

The sappers finally lose their nerve and leg it, despite the fact that outrunning a dagger-lion is not likely. They split up, thinking that she can only go after one of them at a time. Sniffing, Aeva/Lion turns around and tries to push the sappers' bridges into the pit, hoping to slow down the retreat.

The final skirmishers either escape beyond the gorse or are put down and the companions have a quick chat about how to approach the next phase of the siege. While they chat, Kel'Serrar and Aeva do their best to patch up some injuries, and Tremor sets about raising as many of the enemy corpses as possible, then leaving them prone on the ground where they died to act as an ambush.

And we left it there as LD had to go to her dancing.

The Wrap-Up:
I honestly thought this was a pretty good session all up. We had a quite a bit of in-character chatter at the start, mixed in with a bit of action, then more chatting and political manouevering. And then we finished off with the opening stages of what was going to be a large set-piece battle.

In hindsight, this strikes me as a pretty good session, but I remember at the time feeling a bit disappointed that we didn't get anywhere near as far as I hoped plot-wise.

We have scheduled our next game for February 14th and hopefully we will get a pretty substantial session done. At the moment, it would appear that we will play the first session of the next arc, with an interlude dropping in between this session and the next.

I hope this was worth the wait.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-02-13, 10:31 AM
Interlude 4.6: Onwards to Varr

When birds clash in fields of Summer, the struggle will be resolved by those who dare wield the Gilded Sword…
- The opening line of the Greyflood Prophecy, as delivered by Raelda the Seer of Meleret.

To start with, this Interlude is going to cover a fair bit of time. Due to the personnel change within the gaming group, it was decided that the end of the 'siege' of Last Redoubt should be skipped over. So we're going to cover the end of the siege, the companions subsequent journey to Varr and then another scene which takes place in Valewatch at roughly the same time.

As before, Session 5.1 will begin with me recapping the Interlude to the group, so I will edit this post to include the best of the commentary and dialogue.

The companions do not have much time to reassess before the Sons of Wyre commit their heavy infantry. A large force marches into the canyon in good order, armed with heavy shields and longspears.

Breanna attempts to drop her landslide on the oncoming phalanx, but the wall of rock is held back by some quick thinking mages, a multi-coloured aethyric wall shimmering to life before her eyes. The Leathe bolts from her hiding place, unable to warn the other companions of the new assault, as she is still temporarily mute.

Taken by surprise, the companions' forces are unable to reset their ambush and are caught in open ground when the phalanx arrives. Caught in a pitched battle, against a phalanx of heavy infantry with far superior reach with flanks secured by the canyon walls, the Valewatch skirmishers drop like flies.

Faced with such opposition, Harold orders a retreat and does well to prevent it from becoming a rout. Seeing the phalanx brushing aside the skirmishers, Kel'Serrar, Maebh and Breanna, the Leathe having joined them up on the canyon wall, order their archers to loose their arrows. Unfortunately, the enemy shields and armour absorb much of the projectiles, and it isn't long before enemy archers follow the heavy infantry and start shooting back. Maebh's attempts to blast holes in the enemy infantry are generally unsuccessful, the enemy mages, while probably not as powerful individually, are able to curtail her effect on the battlefield by working together.

Frustrated, Maebh unleashes everything she has, tearing apart their attempts to stop her and the sky opens up. Heavy rain starts to lash the battlefield, quickly turning the dirt to churned mud. Golden lightning flashes down into the midst of the melee, giving Harold's skirmishers enough space to disengage completely to regroup with Tremor and Brannigan's reserve forces.
"Steady on Maebh." - LD.
"Nah, I do what I want ay." - Ladyhawk.

Momentarily spent by her exertions, Maebh is helped along by Kel'Serrar and Breanna as enemy skirmishers start to scale the canyon walls to take out the archers. Many enemy arrows are deflected by glints of amber as they impact with Maebh's weakened shield, but some get through. Breanna takes an arrow to the shoulder which almost causes her to lose her balance and Maebh takes a stinging cut along her cheek from a glancing strike. Weary and wounded, the three companions make it back onto the ground behind Tremor and Brannigan's reserves, who have formed up at the end of the canyon, along with a handful of their archers. Up on the wall, the last of the archers are being butchered by the skirmisher Sons of Wyre.

On the ground, Aeva/Lion is looking a bloodied mess, her golden hide rent from many wounds, turned red by blood, much of it not her own.
"Aww savage mate." - LD.
Now disengaged from the combat, safe behind a line of Grimstone infantry, she takes a moment to turn back into her natural form, and grimaces in pain. One spear-strike has opened her forearm up to the bone and Kel'Serrar silently binds the wound with a clean bandage.
"You've leveled up! You're now a proper medic." - LD
"Lol, jokes, it's actually poison sumac." - Ladyhawk.

Calm descends on the battlefield as the Sons of Wyre finish butchering the stragglers from the retreat. The rain beats down heavily upon the field, but the lightning has stopped, Maebh leaning heavily upon her bloodied spear. The ditch before the reserve has been revealed by the weight of the rainwater, and so the phalanx comes to a halt a mere spearthrow away.

One man steps forward from the phalanx. He is clad in an articulated suit of fine bronze armour, similar in design to that worn by the heavy infantry, but more extensive and far more ornate. He removes his tall, full-face helm and reveals a long, craggy face framed by long grey hair and a thick beard.

"Where is the Bastard of Nordtarnet? Where is Tremor Ironfist?" - Ragnak the Butcher, captain of the Sons of Wyre.

Tremor steps forward, shield and the Windrider axe held at the ready.

"I am Tremor Godriksson, of Clan Ironfist, rightful heir of Nordtarnet." - Tremor, defiantly.

"You are the bastard son of a weak king, and your brother will pay me a handsome price for your head. Your troops will all die here if today continues like this. But it does not have to be that way. Your brother will pay for your head, but he cares not for those of your men. Face me in single combat, die with honour and spare their lives. I give you my word." - Ragnak, smug.

"I should trust the word of a man who encourages the title, 'The Butcher?" - Tremor, incredulous.

"Well that's your call. You will die here either way." - Ragnak, shrugging and placing his helm back on his head.

Tremor looks back at the faces of his troops, his companions, the rag-tag group of misfits he has tentatively come to regard as his friends.

"Very well captain, you shall have your wish." - Tremor, lowering his wolf-helm visor and charging forward with shield forward and axe held high.

Grinning, Ragnak hefts his greataxe and brings it down on the charging dwarf, who raises his shield and grits his teeth. They exchange a handful of blows each but it is clear that Tremor is woefully outmatched. Tremor is knocked back by a savage punch to his face which knocks his helm from his head. He spits a gobbet of blood and a tooth and adjusts his grip on his weapons before throwing his battered body back into the fray.

For a moment it looks like Tremor might gain the upper hand, fury serving to redouble his efforts and the Windrider axe melts a long gash in the fauld protecting Ragnak's left thigh, but in doing so he leaves himself open to the Butcher's counterstrike, which hammers the blade of his greataxe deep into Tremor's body, cleaving through armour and shattering ribs.

Tremor falls to the ground, face up in the mud, peering at the grey sky slowly turning red.

"We have the bastard. Now kill the rest." - The last thing Tremor hears before the axe comes down one final time.

As the phalanx closes in on the still shell-shocked companions and the last of their troops, screams can be heard from outside the canyon.

"Sounds like our distraction has arrived Maebh." - Aeva, stone-faced and grim, but the time for mourning would come later.

A bestial roar rings across the battlefield, and the phalanx halts again as Ragnak directs more troops to the rear. More roars bellow out in response to the first and the screaming gets louder and closer. Something is tearing its way through the rearguard of the Sons of Wyre, and it sounds very big and very angry.

And then, there it is, at the far end of the canyon, ripping its way through a company of archers, a massive creature, in shape similar to a Feartarbh but much greater in both size and ferocity, easily fourteen feet tall. Six horns crown its massive, fanged head and it wields a club fashioned from a small tree. It lets out an earth-shaking bellow and more roars ring out in answer. It has not come alone.

"You brought the Krowavir anyway?" - Harold, furious, grabbing Aeva by the arm.

Maebh breaks the Invarrian's grip on the druid.

"It was my idea Harold, and it's a damned good thing we brought them here. Come, quickly, we must escape now." - Maebh, grabbing the duellist and pushing him towards the escape tunnel.

"If they follow us, we can bring it down on their heads." - Kel'Serrar.

"Retreat! Make for Valewatch!" - Harold's last command to their troops, as the companions abandon them to their fate.

* * *

Last Redoubt is left in carnage.

The last of the Krowavir are driven off, dragging corpses with them into the woods. Though victorious, the Sons of Wyre have suffered heavy losses, and will likely not play any major part in any continuing hostilities.

On the other hand, Ragnak the Butcher has claimed the heads of both Tremor Ironfist and Brannigan Runestone, who gave his life in a desperate rearguard action as the underground tunnel was collapsed behind the fleeing Resistance troops.

As for those troops, they make their way piecemeal to Valewatch. Many never make it, and those who do are greeted by a great surprise when they get there...

As for the companions, having gathered their horses and wolves, they make their way west. Harold's sister, Helga, has called him home, and has offered the companions safe haven whilst he deals with their 'family situation.' Harold will give no more details, claiming he is sworn to secrecy on the matter.

The mood is quite subdued as they make their slow and winding way to the coast, avoiding patrols, roving Rocklad and even a splinter group of Krowavir, which Aeva manages to ward away.
"We went that way!" - Delphi, as Aeva to the Krowavir.
The defeat was a bit of a wake-up call to the companions, as was losing one of their own.


We have suffered a defeat, something very much foreign to me. While we have been forced to leave places in a hurry, sometimes with a great amount of damage to all along the way, never before have we been unsuccessful. Never before have we actually failed our missions. It hurt to lose a companion, especially one that has been there, with us for so long, but it was nothing to the reminder that we are not infallible, we too can lose, we too can die.

That moment was a portent, and a question. The question being, was it a portent for how difficult things are going to become, or was it a turning point for the usefulness of this group?

Is it perhaps time we went our separate ways, or more to the point, Is remaining with the companions still within my best interest, or is it now an unwritten death-wish?

Conversation is scarce at night when camp is struck. For Kel’Serrar, this suits him well enough. He takes up woodcarving, and while his first efforts are questionable he keeps at it long into the night by the fire. Breanna too seems withdrawn, especially compared to her usual self. During the days she scours the wilderness for potentially useful poisons and at night sorts them into ingredients which will complement each other. Sadly, she cannot find any peaches, which only serves to further deteriorate her mood.

Despite her being such a recent acquisition to their party, Aeva appears to be the one most affected by Tremor’s passing as she and the dwarf were quite close. For her part, she viewed him as a friend who would never let her down, and now feels her hands are stained with blood as she was not able to protect him at the last.

Maebh, still angered by what she sees as Harold’s failed plan is very withdrawn and spends most of her time practicing her magic. She communicates little, and when she does it is usually with Toirneach.

It takes the better part of a month for the companions to reach the port-town of Kabysholm on the west coast of Drakon. The companions do not tarry long in the town, but take two days to replenish their supplies and see to a few last matters before leaving Unterguardt.

Harold, who wishes to do one last thing for the people of Nordtarnet before leaving them to their fate, spreads the story of the last stand of Tremor Ironfist, who fell with his companions, bravely defending the rights and freedom of the people. In addition to hopefully providing a rallying cry and a martyr for the cause, Harold hopes that the rumours might help to conceal their passage from any enemies who might still be hunting them. The companions also visit tailors and smiths to repair or replace damaged clothing and equipment.

After accompanying Harold while he purchased the party’s galley, Kel’Serrar abandons the others for the evening, obtaining a collection of small blades for carving purposes before finding a small inn for a warm meal and soft bed. He is not looking forward to the sea voyage on the morrow.

For Breanna, the time in Kabysholm passes too swiftly. She purchases a handful of vials to keep her poisons in and commissions a specially-built hand-crossbow and a dozen darts. She has to splash out a fair bit of gold for the work to be completed in a timely fashion, but the assassin is quite literally loaded.

From Kabysholm, they travel by sea to Ravnsalm, the village Harold reveals is ruled by the Oakenshield family. The voyage will take a couple of weeks, and in foul weather, but compared to the squall they weathered on the trip to Unterguardt it is nothing to complain about.

* * *

The small galley, named The Tide Tremor by the companions in memory of their lost friend, is a perfect size for the small complement of crew available to Harold. Generally speaking, the Invarrian just about does everything, with the others chipping in when they feel like it. They do however, make good time and with Maebh’s control of the weather, sail adjustment is kept to a minimum. Aeva’s days are mainly spent on the masthead, looking out over the ocean with her hawk-eyes. A pack of three hakal, carnivorous toothed whales approximately seven feet long and native to the northern oceans, approach the ship on a calm day and Aeva takes the opportunity to acquire the form of one of the creatures. After that day, the Selkye spends a significant period of time under the water, exploring. She even manages to dredge up some treasures from the sea-floor in the form of salvageable valuables from shipwrecks.

When not bending the elements to her will, Maebh retreats to her cabin and pores over books and scrolls of spell-craft, ones both discovered across their travels and a few purchased at a reasonable price from Kabysholm. Her mantikor egg finally hatches on the voyage, the hatchling emerging without difficulty. She is smaller than she should be, likely a result of the temperature the egg was kept at being too low and stunting her growth in the shell. Still, for all that she is strong enough to eat and will probably survive. Her scales are grey with a blue iridescence to them when the light hits them right, and Maebh names her Crithtaluin, after one of the Danann gods, the Mountain Shaker, one of the most powerful of that pantheon.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Manticore_zps8lzuhokw.jpg


When Harold mentioned we were journeying to his homeland, I was mildly surprised that we were neither going to a kennel, nor back to whatever remained of Summer Hill. Instead we would be travelling to another Naya-forsaken island with completely unreasonable weather. It didn't take long before my mood soured. Boats, it would seem, are not my friends.

On one hand, there are always people moving around who need to be somewhere, on the other, everything is wet. And I mean everything, it makes it very difficult indeed to be an archer of any description, that the boat does not stop moving doesn't aid my archery or my carving.

Speaking of carving, I have continued my efforts to properly learn how to carve, however this is not the simple task I originally had intended. I have yet to have made... well anything really, unless someone wishes to purchases malformed sticks, those I have a plethora of.

I have also resumed my observation of the companions, and generally everyone seems to have mostly recovered from the death of Tremor, however there are still moments when it is obvious that it still weighs heavily. I also feel that Harold is about to show us what he has been hiding.

At least my efforts are not wasted, the rest of my companions believe that I am working hard to learn a new trade, and I have not let my healing abilities lapse. Thankfully, there have been no new injuries since our retreat from the Last Redoubt, but boats seem to be very dangerous, and not just due to the creatures of the sea...

Ravnsalm…

The town where Harold was born and raised looks quite different from what the companions expected. The town itself is built on a high cliff overlooking a small bay. Long, winding roads lead up the cliff-face from the substantial docks along the shoreline up to the town proper.

It is a rare bright morning when the companions finally arrive, gulls crying loudly in the sky and the warm sun behind them.

The docks are busy, merchant ships and Invarrian longships crowding the bay and it is lucky that the companions’ galley is so small or it would have been a far more difficult approach. As it is, Harold is able to skilfully guide the small ship into shore and a team of young Invarrian dockworkers tie the galley in. As they work, the companions can overhear them speaking quietly of Harold in awestruck tones, which Harold ignores stoically.

Upon disembarking, the companions are stopped from wandering the dock-side markets by an elderly Invarrian standing beside a beast-drawn cart. The creature drawing it is fascinating and most of the companions have not seen it’s like before.

“This is a seilbak, and yes that does just mean sail-back. I am well aware that we are not the most imaginative when it comes to naming things. They are very strong and are about as easy to tame as a horse, so we use them as beasts of burden. A seilbak may not be as fast as a horse, but it is far stronger and has much greater endurance. You will find that many of the animals here are probably quite different to anything you have seen before.” – Harold, to his companions before greeting the old Invarrian.

I have a few pictures I drew of the seilbak, but for now just picture a fluffy edaphosaurus.

“Well met Harold Oakenshield. It has been a long time but I am glad to finally see you home.” – Ansgard Av-Kaerhund, and he and Harold embrace each other warmly.

“It has been a long time indeed my old friend. I take it that Helga has sent you down to collect us?” – Harold, indicating the seilbak-drawn cart behind the old Invarrian.

“Yes, that’s right. Hop on in folks and I will take you up to Ravnsalm proper.” – Ansgard, mounting the cart himself and taking the reins.

* * *

The long, winding path up the cliff to Ravnsalm is very busy, carts packed to bursting with trade-goods, either freshly delivered or to be taken to buyers over the sea.
“Of course, trade-goods is probably a slightly misleading term, as that suggests that the goods were traded for. Most of these wagons are filled with spoils from the reavers.” – Harold, to the other companions, he and Maebh riding behind the cart.

“So Harold, this is where you grew up?” – Aeva, trying to make small-talk.

“Yes, this is my home. I spent most of my life here, when I was not away reaving of course.” – Harold, quietly.

“And when you weren’t in the capital acting as the Stormlord’s First Reaver!” – Ansgard, the old Invarrian’s voice brimming with pride.

“The Stormlord’s what now?” – Breanna, incredulous.

“First Reaver to the ruling Stormlord Bjarn Tordenwulf, granted the title many years ago for saving the then-prince’s life in combat.” – Ansgard, oblivious to Harold’s growing discomfort.

“Exactly Ansgard, that was many years ago. I put that aside when the Stormlord sent me south.” – Harold, unable to stay quiet any longer.

“You mean, you never told your companions of this? That they were travelling with one of the most honoured warriors on all of Varr?” – Ansgard, astounded.

“The years had not been kind to me my old friend. They would not have believed me even if I had told them when we met. I am in far better shape now than I was then…” – Harold, wondering.

It is something that has had the Invarrian somewhat confused for some time in fact. The years of solitary travel in the Midlands of Norbayne since leaving Varr had indeed been tough on the old sea-wolf. He had lost a lot of his old muscle-mass and his skills fell into disuse. Since becoming embroiled in these recent travels however, he has quickly reached a physical condition which, while it may not surpass the days of his youth, at least rivals them. While the high-pace lifestyle he has been living over the past half year or so would have had a beneficial effect on a young warrior, at his age he should be slowing down, not speeding back up again. And it is not just him. The accelerated physical development is also very prevalent in Breanna, who has packed on a truly obscene amount of musculature in a short period of time. That, coupled with the companions swift recovery from reasonably serious injuries, has had Harold thinking that there is something unusual at play here for quite some time.

* * *

Ravnsalm proper is a bustling little town, with tall, somewhat ramshackle-looking wooden buildings lining the packed dirt streets. Townsfolk and wagons crowd the roads and street-side vendors hawk their wares over the sound of the traffic. Thankfully, Ansgard is a skilled navigator and the companions find themselves at the gate of Herregard, the seat of the Oakenshield family.

“Brother, it is good to see you.” – Helga Oakenshield, warmly embracing Harold.

“It is good to see you too sister. How are the pups?” – Harold, warmly.

“Growing strong and eager to meet their uncle.” – Helga, proudly, before turning to the other companions. “As friends of my brother, I consider you my friends too. Please be welcome to Ravnsalm and avail yourselves of what comfort we can provide you. Sadly, the task I must ask my brother to perform will see you leaving my home swiftly, but I hope that your time here will be pleasant. Now, my servants will show you all to your rooms for the night to allow you to freshen up after your voyage and I will have them bring you to the private dining hall in an hour for lunch and a proper talk.” – Helga, who beckons the servants forward.
"I really like her. I hope she doesn't die." - LD.
"Or at least that we aren't directly responsible." - Sins.
"True. At this stage, anything more than that is probably too much to ask for." - LD, as Dev looks on uncomfortably.

The rooms granted to the companions are spacious and far richer than anything they are accustomed to. The furnishings are an eclectic, but for all that charming mix, a reminder that practically everything in the room caught the eye of a reaver, who grabbed it, probably at the point of a sword, and took it home. Laid out on the sumptuous beds are warm, high-quality clothes in the Invarrian style to replace the cold-weather gear which is currently being cleaned, or in some unfortunate cases, burned.

After tidying himself up, Harold hurries upstairs to find his sister’s pups and spends the better part of an hour playing with and getting to know the boisterous children. He enjoys himself, but with a certain melancholy, can’t help but wonder about what might have been had he rejected the Stormlord’s request and instead settled down with the love of his life…

* * *

The private dining hall is a small affair, and even during the day requires a fire for warmth and light. A light lunch of various fruits, dried meat and bread is laid out on the table and the companions sit around one end of the table, Helga at the head.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase Harold, you’re needed at Isenhjem. You probably haven’t heard about them, but there’s been drownings. No one really knows what is going on, but it seems like they’re connected. Bjarn fears that the Greyflood Prophecy is finally coming to pass.” – Helga, grim.

“Aye, I fear that to be true. Worse, I think I may in fact be caught up in it all.” – Harold, unhappily.

“To make matters worse, Bjarn’s not getting any younger and after the business with his brother, there’s no heir.” – Helga, worried.

“Reinn? What of him?” – Harold, alarmed.

“He was found delirious in the wreckage of a longship on the south coast. The remnants of his crew were strewn about the place, torn to pieces. Most of them looked like someone had begun eating them. Apparently he was ranting and raving when they found him, covered in blood. Being the Stormlord’s brother, they couldn’t execute him, so Bjarn had him sent to Stillhet. That was maybe six months ago now.” – Helga, quietly. It is obvious that she is still quite upset by the business with Reinn.

They finish their lunch in relative silence and then spend the rest of the afternoon and evening either exploring Ravnsalm or in their rooms. In the morning they will take ship once more to Isenhjem, the seat of Bjarn Tordenwulf, Stormlord of Varr.

* * *

Within the main hall of Valewatch, Ersun Blackbear sits upon his throne, crossbow resting across his lap and a great cave-bear resting at his feet before him. Huscarls have allowed the other lords of the Resistance into the room with their retinues and they stand before Blackbear’s throne.

“Lord Blackbear, we have not had word from Last Redoubt for some time now, and now reports have come to us which suggest that it was soldiers under your command which attacked my scouts. What is the meaning of this?” – Harrick Stonehammer, clutching the polehammer of his office tightly.

“Harrick, it is time that your eyes were opened to the truth. We cannot win this war. Tremor Godrikson has been revealed as a bastard, and with the death of his legitimacy dies the legitimacy of the Resistance. This war is no longer about reinstating the rightful heir. It never has been, but now he has been revealed as false and is probably dead anyway.” – Ersun Blackbear, voice rising with every word.

“You have no way of knowing if he is dead or not!” – Barandin Stonefist, angrily.

“You are his cousin, and so your judgement in this issue is clouded. We must look to life after the bastard.” – Blackbear, with some venom.

“Our lands are still under threat from Ironfist though. We cannot halt the war now!” – Frieda Grimstone, fully armed and armoured. Behind her, her huscarls grip their weapons tightly.

The doors into Blackbear’s hall close and everyone present can hear great wooden beams being dropped into place to bar them. Panic ripples through the gathered lords as they realise they are surrounded by Blackbear’s own huscarls.

“I thought you might say that. It has occurred to me that we cannot win this war. My only remaining course of action was to strike a deal with Bain.” – Blackbear, quietly.

“You traitorous bastard!” – Arald Redclay, roaring and drawing his sword.

“Skremmende, kill them.” – Blackbear, taking his crossbow and putting an iron pellet through Redclay’s eye.

The great bear rouses himself and ploughs through the lords and their retinues as the Valewatch guards fall upon them from the sides. The fighting is brutal, but over quickly. Only Barandin Stonefist, clad in the armour Tremor forged for him in Dreven, still stands. One of Blackbear’s huscarls holds an axe to a wounded Frieda Grimstone’s throat and is about to swing when Blackbear halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, we can give her to Bain… Take her to the dungeons. Finish the others.” – Ersun Blackbear.

Barandin, axe and shield in hand lays about himself at the slowly encroaching huscarls. He is a formidable combatant, and fells a few of them before he is eventually overwhelmed and his head hewn from his body by the vengeful axes.

Harrick Stonehammer, lying prone on the floor, scrabbles desperately at his polehammer, his legs a mangled ruin. Ersun Blackbear stalks towards him, greataxe cradled in both hands. Hvitt, Blackbear’s white weasel-fox looks at the felled godsman with an evil, predatory gleam in its eye.

“I always despised you and your kind Harrick. Die knowing that your machinations were for nought, that the rightful king will rule Nordtarnet and that Hvitt here will devour your corpse.” – Blackbear, bringing his axe down on the priest.

The Wrap-Up:
I originally intended for the players to actually play the scene in Valewatch out themselves. I got them all to put in a request to play their choice of a list of characters present in the scene and we were going to do it until recent events.

Harrick Stonehammer – Chief Godsman of Nordtarnet (Sins)
Frieda Grimstone – Ruler of The Crag (Ladyhawk)
Arald Redclay – Rightful ruler of Lord’s Ridge (Dev)
Barandin Stonefist – Tremor’s cousin (Wings)
Haelda Disdottir – Frieda Grimstone’s ‘handmaiden’ (LD)
Lyria Fisher – Arald Redclay’s swordbearer (Delphi)
Gladrek Threksson – Brannigan Runestone’s second in command (Possibly Scotticus)

Unfortunately, I decided that, for pacing reasons it would be best to just move on from the Nordtarnet conflict completely, so chose to represent this as an epilogue of sorts to the arc.

I hope that this was entertaining for you all. Session 5.1 will be played tomorrow, our first for the new year. I’m pretty excited.

*EDIT: I have incorporated the pick of the OOC comments when we went through the Interlude at the beginning of Session 5.1. I think the Interlude was received well by the group, and it definitely tied up most of the loose ends in Nordtarnet.
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-06-06, 10:14 AM
Session 5.1 (a): A Matter of Prophecy

"Beasts with skin as grey as a stormcloud and sharp as a razorblade. Teeth and talons like swords. Eyes black as pitch, and a heart to match. They came out of the waves, shrieking and hissing and dragged them all into the water. The foam around our ship turned red with blood as they tore them apart beneath. Poor wretches never stood a chance. To this day I still do not know why they were taken and I was left..."

- Reinn Tordenwulf, recounted to the court which sentenced him.

Welcome to Part 1 of Session 5.1 of Three Coins.

We played this on Valentine’s Day, which happens to coincide with Delphi’s birthday and is only a few days after Dev’s, so the game day was used as a vehicle for birthday celebrations as well.

The city of Isenhjem, capital of Varr and seat of the current Stormlord, Bjarn Tordenwulf, is similar in style to Ravensalm, though quite a bit larger in size. Built along a wide bay, the city has a somewhat ramshackle appearance, with tall, wooden structures dominating the settlement. The Stormlord’s citadel is similar to the other buildings, save much larger and extensively reinforced with stone.

The dockworkers admit the Tide Tremor with no incident and ensure the companions’ animals and gear is taken off the ship and to the Stormlord’s stables and their quarters in the citadel respectively. As for the companions themselves, they are taken to the Stormlord’s reception hall.

* * *

The Stormlord of Varr appears to be of a similar age to Harold. He is heavily built, though now his bulk is not all muscle, having led a rather sedentary lifestyle since his reaving days, the marks of which are still prevalent in the form of a handful of scars. In colouration he is predominantly black, with some small patches of white fur. He stands from where he sits on his throne and walks down the hall to meet his old friend, flanked by two heavily armed reavers and a younger seneschal.

“Harold, it is good to see you again. You and your companions are most welcome here in Isenhjem.” – Bjarn Tordenwulf, embracing Harold.

The companions nod their thanks and Bjarn continues.

“I assume Helga filled you all in on the situation here?” – Bjarn, leading the companions into a small side-room. He takes a seat at a small table and invites the companions to join him.

“A little, but she wasn’t able to give us all the details.” – Harold, taking his seat.

“To be blunt, I fear the Greyflood Prophecy is in the process of being fulfilled. As you know, the Gilded Sword has a major part to play, but no word has reached us of the sword’s whereabouts. All we have to go on is an old record which says it can be found in the ruined temple of Werencha. As far as where that is, we assume it is somewhere on the eastern side of the Dividing Range.” – Bjarn, grim.

“And I assume that no one has gone and mapped out the eastern side of the Dividing Range in my absence?” – Harold, sarcastic.

“No one has properly charted the eastern coast of Varr in centuries. That is not something which changed while you were gone and is unlikely to change in the future.” – Bjarn, laughing.

“And why is that?” – Aeva, speaking up.

“Well the Dividing Range splits the island down the middle and is practically impassable.” – The Stormlord’s seneschal, Fjorn Av-Baern.

“And the east coast is shielded by a maze of razor-sharp reefs, which makes a coastal approach exceedingly dangerous.” – Bjarn, finishing the thought.

“Awesome.” – Breanna.

“So let me get this straight Bjarn, you want us to go look for a semi-mythical temple, the location of which we don’t know, save that it is probably somewhere dangerous to get to?” – Harold.

“Wait a minute, semi-mythical?” – Breanna, who is enjoying the peaches brought out by the Stormlord’s servants.

“Well according to the legends and early chronicles, the temple did exist at one time, but it has not been seen in centuries. It also had a foul reputation.” – Harold.

“So you’re saying that not only do we not know where it is, but it might not even exist at all.” – Maebh, growing concerned.

“Ah yeah, something like that by the sound of it.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly.

“Well we do believe we know where it is, more or less.” – Fjorn.

“But that may have changed. Legend says that our Gods would ensure that sacred places would remain so by changing where they could be found. Part of the Game and all that.” – Harold, thoughtful.

“The Invarrian Gods are *****.” – Breanna, still enjoying her peaches.

“Well one is, sure. The Golden God’s pretty good really. The God of the Waves, yeah, he’s a bit of a ****.” – Harold, getting way off topic.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Varr%20map_zpsvhhhvkpu.png
I apologise for the quality of the map. It is also unfinished and Werencha's location is only speculative.

“So this prophecy that we’ve only just heard of, that Harold thinks is about him… Can we hear it?” – Aeva, speaking up.

“Of course. Fjorn, fetch the skald please.” – Bjarn, who then sits back patiently, thoughtfully chewing on some salted meat.

“What’s a skald?” – Breanna, quietly to Harold.

“It’s like a bard.” – Harold.

Fjorn returns shortly with a tall, rangy Invarrian skald in tow. The newcomer is heavily swathed in furs, his own pelt a mousy brown. Many golden rings pierce his left ear and a nasty scar runs down his face. His voice however is surprisingly deep and powerful as he introduces himself.

“Well met travellers, Ser Oakenshield. I am Morolf Bittersong, the Stormlord’s skald.” – Morolf, solemnly.

“Morolf, please recite Raelda of Meleret’s Greyflood Prophecy to us. We must hear it once more.” – Bjarn, formal.

The skald takes a small pouch by his side and opens it, revealing a collection of glass vials filled with strange powders and liquids. He takes a few of them to the open fireplace in the corner of the room and sprinkles measures of some of the powders in. The fire roars up in response. He then takes a draught from one of the vials full of liquid and turns back to the table of his audience.

His eyes, where before they were a bright blue are now blazing with the intensity of the flames behind him. Quietly, he begins to hum, a deep baritone which at first is barely audible, but soon pervades the room.

“When birds clash in fields of Summer, the struggle will be resolved by those who dare wield the Gilded Sword.” - Morolf Bittersong, his voice seeming to weave in and out of the almost hypnotic humming. Behind him, two indistinct winged shapes, comprised entirely of flame, fly out of the fire and circle the room before meeting over the table and clashing together. For a moment, the flames form into the shape of a beautiful blade.

”Artefacts they shall possess, three in number and forged into vicious circles, coins of an ancient and powerful currency, an eternal link to the Aethyr. Only those of the utmost strength and the purest of intentions will bend the true power of the coins to their will, and they shall do so, bringing fire and death to the lands of the Queen of Eagles.” – The skald continues, and behind him the fire shows a desolate landscape, which even in the light and life of the flames, somehow appears dead and grey. A lone great eagle, wounded, sits atop her nest which lies on a hill and screams defiance at her enemies.

”The wielders of the ancient artefacts will be heralded by the demise of the Lord of Wolves, who will rise again before the end, the Bastard King, cursed to hold power for but a short while and the Storm’s Scourge, lord of the waters, yet undone by them.” – Bittersong’s saga strikes a mournful tone and behind him the fires die down considerably. First, a great wolf on its hind legs, a crown on its ferocious head, is decapitated by a curved knife. The crown falls away and is lost. The wolf falls and is buried and a taloned hand rises from its grave, the wolf pulling itself free once more, whole, save for its crown, which it starts to look for.

Now a short, indistinct figure, crown resplendent on his head, despite his otherwise ragged appearance, rushes at a heavily armoured giant. Weapons clash and the giant’s axe overbears the shorter figure and ends his life.

Finally a longship, in the Invarrian style, sails on a sea of flames and ashes. A golden crown floats above the ship until a great wave crashes over, sending the ship and crown into the depths.

”If fail these companions do, death will reign in all the lands and the Devourer will come forth to reap its harvest.” – Bittersong, reaching the end of his saga. A dark hooded figure appears in the flames, scythe clenched in skeletal hands.

“If success they can achieve, the Devourer’s reaping will be postponed for two-score, four score or fifteen-score years, but one cannot halt destiny forever. Thrice before has the Devourer been defeated, but it is ever poised to swing the Scythe of Doom and unleash the Greyflood.” – The last stanza of the saga complete, Bittersong falls back into the low, deep humming and his eyes close as the fire plays out the last act of this incredible story. The hooded figure swings its scythe and a great wave of ash erupts from the fire, smothering the flames into nothingness and sending the room into darkness, with only the skald’s humming breaking the silence.

Finally the humming ceases.

“I thought you said skalds were like bards? Cause bards are useless. That was nothing like a bard.” – Breanna, incredulously to Harold.

“Wait a minute… Artefacts… Three of them… Coins… Three coins… OH ****!” – Harold, facepalming epically.

“What? What is it?” – Bjarn, leaning forward with how intently he is listening to Harold.

Fjorn meanwhile helps Morolf from the room.

“Under my nose this whole time. Three coins! We have them! Well, we had them…” – Harold, his face in his hands, despair in his voice.

“Oh no, you think the ones we took from Brewer are the ones in this prophecy?” – Maebh, worried.

“Yes, I do.” – Harold.

“So, Tremor was the Bastard King, and we dealt with the Lord of Wolves… Who, or what, is the Storm’s Scourge?” – Maebh, questioning.

“So, according to prophecy, the Wolf King, this Lord of Wolves, might not be properly dead… ****.” – Harold, who is getting more depressed the more of the prophecy he figures out.

“So back on those coins… I have one.” – Maebh, pulling hers out, the coin forged from a dark gold.

“I have another.” – Breanna, the silver coin gleaming as she flicks it over her furry fingers.

“Yes, and Tremor had the third…” – Harold, almost in tears.

“So about that third coin… Did it look anything like this?” – Kel’Serrar, pulling a thick copper coin from his pocket.

“Would it be wrong to say I love you?” – Harold, beaming at the thin ranger.

“Yes. Yes it would.” – Kel’Serrar, totally deadpanning.

“Bless you and your kleptomania Kel.” – Breanna, laughing.

It is decided that the companions can spend the next few days in Isenhjem, resting and procuring any more supplies they might need before striking out for Werencha. Bjarn gives them a map of Varr which shows a rough indication of where the legendary temple might be found.

The rest of the day sees the companions let loose on Isenhjem. Aeva commissions some steel claws to help get through armour when in her lion-form. Most of them ensure that their equipment is all in an optimal condition. Breanna purchases 50ft of rope, simply because it might be useful and she has money to burn.

* * *

It is now night, and the palace of the Stormlord is quiet. The companions are in their own personal quarters. Breanna and Aeva are sleeping, Harold sharpening a knife which really needs no sharpening while talking to his brother, Hosker, an officer in the Stomlord’s guard, Kel’Serrar starting again with his attempts to craft a longbow and Maebh reads softly to her mantikor hatchling.

Somewhere in the palace, a commotion stirs the still night air. Instinctively, the companions all head to the Stormlord’s reception hall. They do not know why they are being pushed there, only that they should go, some sense telling them that is where they need to be.

The companions open the doors and before them, a figure is holding another man’s head in a large bucket of water. As they enter, the figure pulls a dead Bjarn Tordenwulf’s head from the water, draws a large dagger and charges at the companions.

“For the Lord of the Waves!” – Fjorn Av-Baern, the late Stormlord’s seneschal as he charges.

The Invarrian is immediately buffeted by a gust of wind, which forces him to his knees, Maebh barely expending any thought to halting his charge. Kel’Serrar sends some tendrils of malicious magic into the man’s brain and Harold steps forward and smashes a fist into the side of seneschal’s head.

“Combat over. Sorry guys.” – Dev, to the players who hadn’t acted yet.
“I’m just going to keep the casting going if that’s okay?” – Sins.
“Oh yeah, no problems mate. Of course.”
“Great, you’ve cast it on me haven’t you?” – Dev.
Sins and I crack up laughing.
“No, but that would have been absolutely hilarious.” – Sins.
“What was the spell?” – Dev.
“Cruel Disappointment.”

Guards rush into the reception hall, and a few questioning looks are pointed the way of the companions, but Hosker manages to quell these suspicions, confirming that Fjorn is the man responsible.

The unconscious seneschal is taken by the companions to the underground dungeons.

The Stormlord’s body is taken away to be prepared for the funeral rites.

* * *

“Brother, I want to interrogate the seneschal.” – Harold, to Hosker quietly.

“I will come with you.” – Hosker, nodding in agreement.

The companions make their way to the dungeons to go and interrogate Fjorn Av-Baern.

“Is there an heir?” – Aeva.

“Well yes. His brother, Reinn. But apparently, he’s insane.” – Harold, darkly.

“Is there a council who can take care of the realm then?” – Kel’Serrar.

“Yes of course. We will ensure that Varr remains strong.” – Hosker, proudly.

“Of course Ovar Windchase would be considered to sit on that council.” – Harold, darkly.

“What’s wrong with him?” – Maebh.

“The man’s a cretin, and has a feud with our family. He has also sworn bloody vengeance after my sister publically revealed he had stolen longships in his possession. The feud between our families goes back a long way, but he’s just a ****.” – Harold.

Upon finally arriving at Fjorn’s cell, Harold awakens the still unconscious traitor with a bucket full of water. He sputters back into consciousness, only to find himself kneeling on the ground, manacles around his wrists which are chained to the side walls, and surrounded by malicious eyes.

For their part, Harold, Maebh, Kel’Serrar and Breanna stand before him, Hosker with them and Aeva/Hawk sitting upon Kel’Serrar’s shoulder. The ranger currently looks like Harold, because he never looks like himself these days.

“I’ll sit on Sins’ shoulder.” – Delphi.
“How do you know which one is me?” – Sins.
“I can smell you, you ****. Accept your fate.” – Delphi.
“No.” – Sins, unable to let another have the last word.

“Let us start with something easy then. What is your name?” – Harold, darkly charming.

“My name is Fjorn Av-Baern, formerly seneschal of Isenhjem.” – Fjorn, bleary eyed.

“And do you know why you are here?” – Harold, still darkly charming.

“I presume because I have killed the Stormlord.” – Fjorn, in a matter of fact manner.

“And now we come to the crux of the matter. Why would you kill the Stormlord?” – Harold, his emotion starting to slip through.

“For the glory of the God of the Waves.” – Fjorn, quietly.

“Why would the God of the Waves want the Stormlord dead? He has granted the Stormlords His blessing since the first Stormlord calmed the tempests which surrounded Varr!” – Harold, impassioned.

“How the God of the Waves treated with the Stormlords past matters not now. The Devourer is nigh and the God requires sacrifices. The Stormlord is the greatest sacrifice we could offer our Lord.” – Fjorn.

“But we reave to satiate His hunger for sacrifices. The Great Reaving itself was because the Brine-Priests demanded more to give Him, and we did so. We met the demands His priesthood made of us. Good Invarrians died in order to appease Him! Why have we angered Him?” – Harold, confused.

“It is not anger. The Devourer comes and it is poised to unleash the Greyflood upon the world. Our Lord requires greater sacrifice in order to have the power to halt the Devourer. The Greyflood Prophecy has failed. You and your band will never find Werencha, the temple was lost centuries ago, if it ever even existed. Even if you do, it will be too late. We must put our faith in the God of the Waves, it is only he who can save us now.” – Fjorn, convinced of the righteousness of his cause.

Silence descends on the room for some few minutes as the import of that statement sets in, the quiet only broken by Fjorn’s ragged breathing.

Then…

“Feel free to ask him more questions, he is currently under the influence of a spell which makes him very susceptible to making big mistakes.” – Kel’Serrar, in an undertone.

Aeva lands on the floor and turns back to her natural form in a flash of ice-blue light and a swirl of feathers.

“I see. Do you have any money?” – Aeva, to the captive Fjorn.

“No, you will have nothing of mine!” – Fjorn, desperately as unbeknownst to him, his hands scribble a detailed map of his home on the dirt floor, with where he keeps his valuables clearly marked.

Aeva and Breanna take some detailed notes of the map themselves and then surreptitiously slip out of the dungeon to go and relieve the traitor of his wealth.

“So what do you believe is going to happen to you now, what with punishment and all that?” – Harold, darkly.

“I believe that I will be killed. I ask only that you drown me, so my death may serve the God of the Waves.” – Fjorn, solemn.

“Let’s set him on fire then.” – Maebh.

“Actually as his last wish, we might actually have to honour it.” – Harold, not entirely happy.

“Are you serious?” – Maebh, incredulous.

“Well, it might be frowned upon to take this into our own hands, but well, who’s going to stop us?” – Hosker, pointing out to his brother that only the Stormlord himself would have the authority to censure Harold over that particular transgression.

“Have you been over the Dividing Range recently?” – Harold, to Fjorn.

“No, I certainly have not, and you are a fool to think that anyone has.” – Fjorn, vehemently.

“When did you feel the urge to kill the Stormlord?” – Maebh, menacing.

“The plans have been in motion for several months now.” – Fjorn.

“Who are your co-conspirators?” – Harold.

“I… will… never tell!” – Fjorn, struggling to break the compulsion brought about by Kel’Serrar’s insidious spell.

“Who is the head of your order?” – Harold, not dropping that line of questioning.

”You will find out soon enough cretin, and you will wish that you never knew!” – Fjorn, laughing manically before the compulsion kicks in.

“The God of the Waves.” – Fjorn, simply, while in his head he still laughs maniacally about how the companions will never be able to find out his true master from him.

“Oh ****.” – Harold, quietly, before Fjorn snaps back to reality. Well, in a sense, as he still hasn’t realised what he has revealed so far.

A split second after being brought back to the present, he finds himself staring deep into Maebh’s amber eyes, entranced by the golden orbs.

Fjorn is now Hypnotised, along with Kel’s Cruel Disappointment. With Harold Charm bonuses, Fjorn is now at a massive -70 to Willpower Checks to resist telling the truth. If he fails the Check he must reveal absolutely anything he knows about the topic, and thanks to Kel’s spell, will not know he has done so until after the spell is released or its duration runs out.

This scene really nailed home for me just how terrifying magical interrogation can be.

“Ha! Your mind-tricks will not work on me!” – Fjorn, moments before he gives a completely blank look, falling under Maebh’s compulsion completely.

“Who is the mortal head of your order?” – Harold.

“The beasts from under the waves…” – Fjorn, quietly.

At this point, Cruel Disappointment has gone into recession as the Hypnotism took over with regards to how Fjorn failed his Checks. While Hypnotised, Cruel Disappointment basically just blanked the whole scene from Fjorn’s recollection. He will have absolutely no memory at all of the questions he was asked, nor the answers he gave while under Maebh’s power. The negative Cruel Disappointment grants to Checks however, remains in effect.

Aeva and Breanna:
Going through Fjorn’s house with some large sacks, the two companions ransack it, collecting the money to split reasonably evenly through the party and any potentially valuable items and artefacts in the sacks to try and sell off to merchants on the morrow.

The two girls decide to split the sulvers equally through the party, so everyone gets 11. The coppers and the proceeds from the valuables are kept to themselves.

Harold, Kel’Serrar and Maebh:
“Is the Brine-Priesthood involved?” – Harold, wandering aloud.

“Yes, of course they are.” – Fjorn, still very much under Maebh’s control.

“You mentioned ‘we’ earlier. Who is this ‘we’ and where and when do you meet?” – Maebh.

“We are the people who will see the Devourer stopped. And we meet down by the river every Sevenday.” – Fjorn, who proceeds to carefully draw out another map in the dirt, this time of a meeting place to the north near some ruins on the riverbank.

“And the other drownings? Are they your order too?” – Maebh.

“Yes, they are. We do it by divine mandate. They are sacrifices to the God of the Waves, to aid Him against the Devourer.” – Fjorn.

“And Reinn’s ship and madness? Was that your order too?” – Harold, in a stroke of genius.

“The beasts told us what needed to be done. Some of the crew were loyal to our order and made the ambush possible, turning upon those loyal to Reinn and butchering them before turning their blades on each other. We do not know why our Lord needed Reinn dishonoured, but they told us His will must be done.” – Fjorn, moments before Kel’Serrar’s spell finally wears off.

“By the Gods, I have just told you everything, haven’t I?” – Fjorn, still oddly emotionless due to Maebh’s hypnotic power.

Tears begin to fall from his eyes as Breanna and Aeva choose that moment to re-enter the cell, burdened with sacks filled with valuables, handing out the traitor’s reappropriated money to the other companions.

A rebellious gleam bursts into life in his eyes and he tries to wipe the map of the meeting place away from the dirt, but a quick glare from Maebh re-asserts her dominance.

“You will not wipe the map away. Sit down on your hands.” – Maebh, staring hard at the prisoner.

“I will not wipe the map away. I will sit down on my hands now.” – Fjorn, who proceeds to sit back down on his hands, willing himself to break the mage’s hold on his mind, but unable to do so.

Kel’Serrar, stolen paper and quill in hand, takes down the map for posterity.

“Are there any significant events coming up for your order? Any meetings planned?” – Harold.

“I have told you too much already. There is a meeting tomorrow night, by the river as usual. Just drown me already and be done with it. I beg you.” – Fjorn, dejected, the hypnosis slowly wearing off.

“One last question traitor. Who is next to die?” – Maebh, hoping to get one more usage out of the hypnosis.

“I know not. We are usually told at these meetings. Go there and have your eyes opened to the truth.” – Fjorn, resigned to his fate.

“I think we are done here. As he has been helpful to our investigation, I feel we should honour his final wish.” – Harold, to Hosker, who nods in agreement.

“Guardsmen! Prepare a bucket! This filth is going to drown, and may the God of the Waves be unmerciful to the wretch.” – Hosker, calling to his guards outside the cell.

* * *

The next day sees the companions preparing themselves for the meeting on the riverbank at sundown. Amidst this, Aeva enlists Harold’s aid in a more personal matter, enquiring after her family’s whereabouts.

After a few hours, they do uncover a lead.
“Which goes around Harold’s neck.” – Sins.

Apparently, Selkye matching the descriptions of her clan have taken up a nomadic lifestyle on the southern coast of Southreach. If her family managed to escape the Wrothdar which overran her homelands, then that would appear to be where they have gone. It is a fair way from home, but her people are excellent seafarers and the climate and terrain is very similar.

As to the night’s plan, they intend to crash the party subtly. Hosker has already spread the rumour that the man responsible for the death of the late Stormlord has not been found, allowing him to show up at the gathering without any problems. No problems, other than the traitor having been drowned in a bucket of course. To this end, Harold has enlisted Kel’Serrar’s aid to help disguise himself, giving the companions an insider. Unfortunately, he will have to leave most of his gear behind to do so, but does have Aeva/Cat in his pocket to help him out. The others will be concealed in the woods, with the rest of Harold’s equipment if it all goes downhill.


“Hopefully they don’t notice the small furry bulge in your pocket.” – Not really thinking about what I’m saying.
“Is that a cat, or are you just happy to see me?” – Delphi, laughing.
There is quite a bit of laughter, but I can see one joke that is just sitting there, waiting for someone to say it.

“I feel an urge to mention the fact that now you have a ***** in your pants.”

“No love man, no love.” – Dev, laughing.


They make their way to the meeting site in the late afternoon.

* * *
And that's it for now. Back shortly. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2016-06-06, 10:20 AM
And we are back. :smallsmile:

The meeting site is on the riverbank. Around 200 yards from the water, in amongst the ruined remains of what used to be a farmstead and inn, a huge pyre burns, warding off the coming cold. All up, upwards of fifty cultists are gathered, either chatting around the fire or presumably praying by the water’s edge.

Harold, unarmed and unarmoured, accompanied only by Aeva/Cat makes his way into the midst of the gathering, trying his hardest to appear inconspicuous. He does not draw any undue attention to himself and the companions collectively breathe a sigh of relief. Their relief however, is short-lived.

A figure rises from the waters of the river, grey-skinned and humanoid in shape but menacing. It begins to speak in a rasping tone and an unfamiliar language, but only Harold is close enough to be able to attempt to decipher what the creature is saying. It seems to him to be an ancient form of the Invarrian language, but he cannot make it out for sure. To do so, he would have to get closer and he definitely does not wish to do that.

Willpower Checks from all the companions for the Creature Under the Waves’ Fear effect. Everyone passes, although Maebh spends a Luck point.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y506/Phoenixguard09/Beast%20Under%20the%20Waves_zpsp2dcokq8.png

The cultists by the riverbank speak back to it in that same language and the creature appears to get quite irate. It rasps a command and then extends a single talon to point at individual cultists. Out of the forty-odd cultists by the water’s edge, the beast picks out five and one by one they simply walk into the river until they are completely submerged.

They do not emerge.

It barks out an order, the horrible rasping more urgent this time and the cultists give their acquiescence. With one last keening shriek, the beast disappears.

The Creature Under the Waves voice was like trying to speak a Norse dialect of Parseltongue. My cat, Satan, is a lovely little girl, but has the strangest voice. I modeled this thing’s vocalisations off her.

Stormclouds billow above the meeting site, strange since the day was quite clear…

With the creature gone, the cultists visibly relax and set about getting completely and thoroughly drunk around the fire. Not wanting to stand out, Harold partakes of the alcohol and then pretends to be feeling violently ill, retreating to the shadowy embrace of the forest, where he quickly relieves himself in the bushes and then finds his armour and weapons.

We have a houserule that whenever a player goes to the bathroom, so does the character. If you’re in the middle of combat, you’d better hold it in. :smallbiggrin:

As soon as Harold is clear of the gathering, Maebh moves forward, golden fire crackling in her hands. Cultists look up at her in surprise moments before she immolates them, gouts of flame rushing from her outstretched hands. The mage turns and an amber bolt of lightning crashes down into the midst of the drunken cultists.

Reflexes dulled by alcohol, some of cultists try to get up and escape the killing grounds, but those that do find themselves pinned by snares of icy-blue magic, as Aeva/Cat prowls in the shadows.

LD finally gets to do what she has been planning on doing since the very first session. The last few level ups has seen LD invest in Breanna’s Riding ability, and now that Wolfgang is a reasonable size, we have decided that Breanna is able to use Wolfgang as a mount in combat.

With carving knife in hand, Breanna charges forward on the back of her wolf and takes out two of the cultists as she rides past. She has only a split second to appreciate this before she has to hold on for dear life as Wolfgang pounces on another cultist and rips his throat out.

Harold, having buckled on his sword-belt takes out his blades and starts to cut down any cultists trying to flee the flames that have avoided Aeva’s snares. He is clean and efficient about it, taking no joy in the death and destruction going on around him.

One cultist flees north, rather than south through Harold and so Kel’Serrar looses a long shot at the running man. The cultist doesn’t make it to the treeline.

Aeva morphs into a lion and starts to maul any survivors, cleaning up with Breanna and Wolfgang while Maebh directs a flurry of lightning bolts into the river. A few survivors who had been snared by Aeva are tied up by Kel’Serrar. Very few stragglers managed to escape in the fighting into the river. Whether they were taken by the current or predators, managed to swim to the other bank or were fried by Maebh’s lightning, the companions cannot say.

Kel’Serrar and Harold take the captives one by one and sober them up by the river.

“You have a handful of cultists. They are drunk, but at least they are conscious.”
“Splash water on them.” – Dev.
“You do so. Now they are wet.” – Completely deadpan.

“How much alcohol is left anyway?” – Delphi.
“Well the really strong stuff was immolated in the flames, but most of it was wine and ale anyway, and that won’t burn. So there’s still quite a bit.”
“I think we can sell that then.” – Delphi.

So the companions line their seven captives up in order of perceived weakness and intelligence, all of them tied around a large tree.

“Cruel Disappointment.” – Sins, announcing his successful casting.

“Hello.” – The supposedly mentally weakest and weediest captive, whose face has brightened considerably in the last few seconds. He thinks his hangover is gone.

“What’s your name?” – Aeva.

“Travys. What do you want?” – Captive, still brightly.

“Want to tell us stuff?” – Aeva, enjoying this interrogation business.

Travys believes he has spat in Aeva’s face and looks really quite smug and pleased with himself. In actuality, he has said the following.

“Yes, this is crazy. I have no idea what is happening, but I think that the gods are telling us to drown people.” – Travys, smiling.

“What do you mean, you think?” – Harold, trying to get to the bottom of this.

“I know right, it is unusual for me to think, but this time I really have! I gave it a lot of thought, and well, I think this is insane!” – Travys, who thinks he has been silent.

“Pull down your pants.” – Aeva, thinking she will just embarrass the captive.

“I will never! You can’t make me do anything!” – Travys, as he shimmies out of his pants with his hands bound. The other captives on either side look at him in disgust and in some cases, horror.

“What is wrong with him?” – Another captive, in an undertone.

“He is no help at all.” – Ladyhawk.
“You did say you wanted the least intelligent first.”
“Good point. Next time we should try the most intelligent.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“So how long does Cruel Disappointment actually last?” – Delphi, to Sins.
“Oh yes, a number of rounds.” – Sins, who rolls poorly to determine. “Uh-huh, yeah party-time’s over.”

All of a sudden, Travys brings his bound hands to his head and winces in pain.

“Argh, my head. Wait, why are my pants off?” – Travys, confused and very hungover.

Leaving Travys to his vain attempts to pull his trousers up, the companions move on to the next captive they wish to interrogate.

“Your name?” – Breanna, menacingly chewing on a peach.

“Grigor.” – The captive, quietly.

Sins succeeds with Cruel Disappointment once more, doubling the casting value. Grigor is about to have a very bad time, with all Willpower Checks to resist the effects of the spell taking an additional -20%.

“So, Grigor… Are you going to tell us stuff?” - Aeva, who enjoys this far too much.

“No, I will never tell you anything!” – Grigor yells at them, nodding his head energetically as he does so.

“The beast in the river, what did it want?” – Harold cutting to the point.

“What creature? Do you mean the creature that came out of the river and told us to drown everyone?” – Grigor, animated.

“Yes.” – Harold.

“It wants us to drown everyone.” – Grigor, still animated.

“Yes, but why?” – Harold, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess I would say that it would be because doing so grants it power.” – Grigor.

“Have you stopped to consider that this might be bad?” – Aeva.

“I have no doubt in my mind that this will turn out perfectly for everyone. Except those who have been drowned.” – Grigor.

“Which will be everyone.” – Aeva.

“Which will be everyone, yes.” – Grigor.

“I’ve had enough of this, take your pants off too.” – Aeva, frustrated.

“I will never do that!” – Grigor, aggressively doing just that.

“Actually, one more question. How can we summon the creature in the river?” – Aeva, serious.

“There is no way to summon it. It summons us. Or you could try drowning sacrifices, but you didn’t hear that from me.” – Grigor, confidentially and in the middle of trying to remove his trousers.

“What is this beast? What is it called?” – Harold, inquiring.

“I will never tell you that its name is unpronounceable to modern tongues.” – Grigor.

“What language is it?” – Harold.

“Ancient Invarrian, presumably.” – Grigor, conversationally.

“Where did you learn to speak Ancient Invarrian?” – Harold, confused.

“It came to me in my dreams. Only a few of us have been able to master the language to communicate directly.” – Grigor. The other captive cultists stare at him like he is a madman, except for Travys of course, who just looks relieved that whatever is happening didn’t just happen to only him.

Aeva takes on the shape of a dagger-lion and pads towards the visibly terrified Grigor and leans her muzzle against his ear. The captive perks up and then looks happily around at the other captives.

“It’s okay everyone, this lion just told me we can trust them!” – Grigor, who is completely lost in the depths of his own fantasy right now. He’s currently up to the part where he is kicking Harold’s head in while strangling him with the ropes that currently bind his wrists. The other captives just look at him like he has completely lost it. Which he has, if ‘it’ is a firm grasp on reality.

“The lion also says that continuing to follow the beast will make you as crazy as I am!” – Grigor, brightly, to murmurs of consternation amongst the other captives.

”I want him to tell them that the lion says following the fishy dude will make them as crazy as he is.” – Delphi, pleased with her plan.
“The lion says that following the fishy dude will make you as crazy as I am,’ says Grigor. The companions just look at him like, ‘What the **** man? What’s a fishy dude?’ We can only assume that fishy dude is an old and unique Selkye saying, denoting someone who is a real ****.”

“Tell us everything more you know.” – Harold, serious.

At this stage, everything suddenly sinks into the captive Grigor, who groans and promptly just looks utterly ashamed, then embarrassed as he realises his trousers are half removed. He was just in the middle of disemboweling Breanna and then rescuing a group of stunning Invarrian women from an oncoming avalanche in his head, and then he is brought back to a very real, and quite embarrassing present.

“You will tell us everything now, right?” – Harold, hoping that the knowledge of everything he has spilt, or would have spilt over the course of the spell’s effect, might loosen his tongue in itself.

“They call us in our dreams and we can’t resist their orders. If we do, they drown us. Now please, just put me out of my misery. Drown me.” – Grigor, miserable.

“You’ve just said that if you do not do as they say, you will be drowned, but now you say you want to be drowned anyway.” – Kel’Serrar.

“Yes, I have failed them. I must be punished.” – Grigor, still miserable.

“You’ve also said that the drownings grant them power, so why would-“ – Aeva.

“Drown me.” – Grigor.

“No…” – Aeva, who then laughs a bit to herself.

“You can understand this creature, no? You said that you learnt to speak their language.” – Maebh, curious.

“When speaking to the creature, we go into some kind of trance, completely under the creature’s power and control. It knows our minds and commands us to speak in a language we only half know.” – Grigor, struggling to express the facts of something he doesn’t really understand himself.

There is silence as the companions think over this new information.

“So we are agreed that we will not be drowning him?” – Harold, eager to move on.

“No, drown us, please.” – Grigor, who is then joined by a chorus from the other captives, each of them begging to be drowned. It is impossible to hear any alternatives from the other party members as the shouting overpowers them until Harold is able to quiet them by threatening them with immediate execution-by-decapitation.

“Never mind, I’ve got this.” – Aeva, as with a flash of blue-tinged magic a massive pit of darkness yawns into being under the line of captives and their tree. They begin to fall, flailing wildly in the darkness.

Well, kind of. The pit is not actually real, they just think it is, and they are not really falling into a random sinkhole, they are just flailing wildly at the air as they sit tied to a tree. One by one, the companions take a captive and, with Maebh’s speciality with ropes, hang the cultists from tall branches, who if they do not suffer a broken neck from the sudden drop, they spend the rest of their short lives suspended by a rope, air supply slowly choked off as they believe they fall through an endless pit.

With the captives out of the way, the companions make their way back to Isenhjem, Harold specifically hoping he can find some way to find out more about this threat. To help him, Aeva spends some time producing six sketches of the grey-skinned beast from the river and then gives one to each companion, keeping one for herself.

Upon returning, they discover that the city is in a state of panic. The fact that the Stormlord could be killed in his own inner sanctum has the populace very concerned for their safety and a few small-scale riots have occurred. In addition to this, there is no heir. The brother, Reinn Tordenwulf, being an imprisoned lunatic, is not considered to be much of a safe option for the throne. Naturally, no one has attempted to go and collect him from Serenity, the asylum/prison for nobility built from a ruined fortress on the northern coast of Varr.

As for a plan, in the morning Harold, Maebh and Kel’Serrar are going to find the Stormlord’s archives and hopefully find someone to question regarding the creature. Failing that, poring through records might turn up some information too.

For Aeva and Breanna, the next day brings an opportunity to loot the houses of traitors and to question random civilians regarding the creature Aeva has sketched. Sounds like fun.

The companions sleep fitfully, safe in their rooms in the late-Stormlord’s palace, as the city around them remains in a state of disarray.

Harold, Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
Upon entering the Stormlord’s archives in the morning, the companions are informed that the head archivist has fled Isenhjem and no one knows where he might be following a brief riot in which the archives were disrupted. The remaining attendants let them in, telling them not to wreck anything and get back to cleaning up the mess from the night before.

Harold takes Aeva’s sketch of the Creature from the river and shows it to the attendants.

“Can you tell me what this is?” – Harold, blunt.

“Well, it is terrifying isn’t it? A good likeness. Don’t know what it is, but it’s a very impressive sketch.” – Attendants, amongst themselves.

“You’ve never seen or heard of anything like this?” – Harold, hopeful.

The attendants all agree that, no, they’ve never seen or heard of anything like it and that they would assume it to be a mythical creature. Harold shares that the beast seems to be capable of domination, meddling with dreams and a lot of other advanced magics and that they seem to be very old and have a connection with ancient Varr. In response, the attendants point him to the earliest records they have of the island kingdom, which might not be much help due to the way the Invarrian language has drifted over the millennium, and to the myths and legends of Varr’s formation and the first Stormlord’s pact with the God of the Waves. If there is anything about the creature in the archives, the information would most likely be found in those parts.

“Does anyone here speak Ancient Invarrian?” – Maebh, questioning the attendants.

“The head archivist does, though not fluently I believe. Of course that won’t help you very much.” – Attendant.

Maebh decides that they may have to try and find some kind of Ancient Invarrian dictionary in the archive. The three companions resolve to do their best to find something relevant in the library.

Aeva and Breanna:
After ransacking the houses, the two girls go around the streets of Isenhjem, picking out random civilians and questioning them regarding Aeva’s sketches and what is depicted upon them. Most deny having seen or heard of the beast before, but one takes a single look at the picture before drawing a knife and cutting his own throat. Breanna and Aeva flee the scene promptly, not wanting to be implicated in a murder as foreigners in a city which is on tenterhooks.

They resolve to find a tavern to question the innkeep regarding mind-controlling fish-people. And to buy lunch.

Harold, Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
Kel’Serrar finds the original scribing of the Greyflood Prophecy, as made by the Seer, Raelda of Meleret. He struggles mightily to read it, only having a basic grasp of the written Invarrian language, but does figure out that this version differs slightly in places to the version told to them by the skald in the Stormlord’s reception room. He sees a mention of the Devourer and notices that the root word for ‘devourer’ and ‘shark’ are the same…

While Kel’Serrar struggles with Raelda’s prophecy, Harold has found records of the very first Stormlord, who foiled a menace which wished to cover the world in what the records refer to as the Grey Death. It is very vague and the lingual drift is just too great for Harold to make out any more than the very broadest of strokes.

Maebh meanwhile is searching through folkloric accounts of unusual sightings. Fishermen have been reporting sightings of unusual sharks and shark-like creatures for centuries. This is unusual because in the northern oceans, most creatures are mammals or birds. As such, fish, such as sharks are quite uncommon, at least close to the surface where they can be seen by fishermen. The sightings are hardly common, but they do occur. Attacks have been reported to, and in fact most close encounters supposedly lead to a fatal or near-fatal attack. There are, however, no mentions of mind control in these reports.

They are joined by Aeva, Breanna and Hosker, and they sit down to discuss recent events together.

“I do have news first. Word has gotten out that you were all present when the Stormlord was murdered and Ovar Windchaser has gotten wind of it and tried to turn public opinion against you. There are already calls amongst the small council to have you apprehended. To add to that, Bjarn was well-liked and the populace might just decide to take matters into their own hands. The situation is difficult enough already what with the riots. I suggest you all leave Isenhjem as quickly as you can and return only when this has all died down.” – Hosker, quietly to the companions.

“Nah, **** this. We need to deal with him. He’s been a problem for our family for too long Hosker. I’ll challenge him to a trial by combat.” – Harold, regarding Ovar Windchaser.

“Wait a moment Harold, we’ve got some possibly more pressing issues and we may not be able to afford to be distracted by personal grudges.” – Maebh, laying a comforting hand on the Invarrian’s shoulder.

“She’s right. And the way the small council talks are going, there is a good chance you will just be arrested for inciting violence, imprisoned and then drowned quietly out of the way when no one is looking. Leave now, come back to fight him another day when all of this is settled.” – Hosker, pleading with his brother.

“All in favour of trial-by-exceedingly-long-ranged-combat?” – Kel’Serrar, quietly.
“All in favour of letting Sins do that thing that he does?” – Delphi, laughing.
“No wait, he comes home and someone has summoned a lightning storm to be conveniently waiting inside for him.” – Sins, warming to his theme.
“We could fly across the rooftops and then I’ll kick him off a balcony.” – LD.
“Okay, unfortunately these are not really viable options right now. Off to the asylum!” – Ladyhawk, to the assent of the other companions.

“If we leave, what do you think the chances are of him following us?” – Harold, to Hosker.

“Well if he does find out when and where you are going, then yes I’d say he will. He’s been unsuccessfully hunting you ever since Helga went and pissed him off, and he’s been pretty intent on that, even if he’s not had any success. Now here you are, so close to him and circumstances have prevented him from trying to get you while you are well protected. But the moment you leave, if he knows of it, he will be right on your tail.” – Hosker.

“Okay, Hosker, stay safe, thank you for your help and stay away from Windchaser. He wouldn’t dare attack you as one of the Stormlord’s personal guard, but that position might not afford you the safety it used to with Bjarn dead.” – Harold, embracing his brother tightly.

“Best of luck brother. I’ll see you when you return.” – Hosker, returning the embrace and then farewelling the rest of the party.

The companions gather their gear and animals from the palace and make their way swiftly to the dock and their waiting galley. They do not wait for the cover of dark and instead hope that they can leave unnoticed in amongst all the bustle on the docks.

They are followed out of the bay by a longship flying a black flag with a silver wolf-skull mounted on two crossed sabres. Harold recognises the description as being the flag of the Windchasers. Aeva contemplates the idea of trying to knock a hole in the hull of the ship, decides against it and then just convinces a handful of gulls to **** all over the Windchaser ship. Maebh turns her magic towards the task of outrunning them, blowing a gale into the Tide Tremor’s sails while using the same gust to try to blow against the longship. Aeva/Hawk’s keen eyes, now above the Windchaser ship pick out the Invarrian at the helm is absolutely huge, at least a foot taller than Harold, sleek and black-furred.

Well out of bowshot and being aided by the wind rather than hindered by it, the Tide Tremor is well and truly away and out of sight and danger within an hour. The companions decide that if the ship reappears they will go full nova and burn it down. The bird**** was a warning shot of sorts.

They continue north, to the coastal asylum of Serenity, hoping that Reinn Tordenwulf will at least be able to shed some more light on the menace beneath the waves…

And I shall cut it here so that at least something is posted. The rest of the session will be in Session 5.1 (b): Shades of the Past.

The Wrap-Up:
Obviously this is just Part 1 of Session 5.1. On the whole I felt that this was a really solid session, with everyone getting at least some kind of spotlight, but it isn’t until Part 2 that things get really memorable.

The scene with the skald did not actually occur on the day. I planned for it, but cut it because we had just had a lot of exposition at the start of the session as I recounted the entire previous interlude. As such, I didn’t want to make them sit through an extended scene where they just had to listen as I info-dumped them again, so I cut the scene back into just a recitation of the Prophecy. A pity as I would have liked to have seen their reactions at the time, but a decision I think needed to be made.

Ovar Windchaser is a villain who has been waiting to be introduced for a long time. In fact, I would say that the build-up for Windchaser before his eventual on-screen moment was second only to one other personal nemesis who has not actually been revealed in its entirety yet, but I am very much looking forward to. All I will say on that count is that Breanna has made some powerful enemies in her time and that things may get a little bit dangerous for her.

This particular arc is going to be pretty brutal, which is a good thing I think. The characters are getting very powerful individually anyway, but the addition of Aeva has given them an absolute force-multiplier. She may not get many kills herself, but she enables the others to cause some serious damage and has become the go-to scout for the party. Correspondingly of course, the dangers that they may run into are going to be the greatest they have ever faced.

I warned the players at the start that this arc may see some deaths if they don’t play smart. They’ve gotten powerful enough and the stakes are becoming so high that I will definitely not be pulling any punches. So far, they’ve been pretty good, but we’ll see how long their luck lasts I guess.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the write-up and I apologise for how late it is. We haven’t played since February due to some seriously busy schedules, but we are hoping to have a session soon.

Stay tuned for the next update,
See you next time,

Phoenixguard09
2016-08-12, 01:07 AM
Session 5.1 (b): Shades of the Past

Welcome to Session 5.1 (b): Shades of the Past.

”The things under the waves, grey skin, sharp teeth and claws. It came for us, it knew where we were. It could see our minds and knew our thoughts! It turned us against each other, one by one…”
- Rantings from a Stillhet inmate.

It takes around a fortnight for the companions to reach Serenity by sea, and they do so unmolested. They pass the time quietly, all of the concerned that the Beasts Under the Waves might make an appearance, but luckily that does not occur.

It is just after midnight when the Tide Tremor reaches Serenity. The abandoned fortress looms ahead in the darkness against a starless night-sky. The only light comes from the sickle-moon above as the companions doused their lamps a few hours ago to avoid detection. No torches can be seen on land.

They choose to wait until morning and drop anchor for the night.

* * *

INSERT MAP HERE

The next day, Harold informs the party of the history of Stillhet.

Stillhet, or Serenity, used to be a functioning keep owned by a wealthy family, but when their house died out, the Stormlord at the time decided that it was a good place for a facility to house nobles who were insane, whose families no longer wanted to be bothered with them. Supposedly the patients were cared for, but the place has a fell reputation. Torture, unsupervised and unethical experiments and deaths amongst both the patients and the staff led to Serenity being closed and then reopened multiple times over the course of its history, but every time it reopened, it apparently devolved into the same cesspit it was before. Before Reinn was taken there, it hadn’t been used for many years.

“We could probably use this as a house. It’s an asylum, so it already has everything we need.” – Sins. I’m not sure if he was being pragmatic or intentionally ironic. Knowing Sins, probably the latter.

They dock the ship, disembark and walk towards the gates, which are unmanned. They are open, and the whole place looks abandoned. On the far side of the stone gatehouse lies a small wooden bridge which spans a deep ditch, at least 15 feet down, which stretches all along the wall. That explains why the walls seemed so short from the outside. A number of Invarrian corpses lie, decomposing in the grey mud of the bottom of the ditch.

Aeva sits down upon the sparse grass and concentrates, trying to commune with the nature spirits. She’s unable to get anything like a human construct of time from them, but they are able to tell her that some people did arrive, escorting another who had been touched by darkness. They brought him in, and since then, no one has left. The spirits themselves are weak, like they are dying, which is troubling. She passes this information on to the rest of the party.

“Hello! Anyone here!?” – Harold, trying to get some kind of reaction from the silent keep.

Only a slight moaning wind answers him, coming from the gaps between the buildings.

Harold walks toward the building built into the wall splitting the courtyard from the asylum proper, but stops at the door. He pushes it slightly, and it creaks open, unlocked. Aeva joins him and rests a hand on the stone wall, asking the spirits within if there is any life present within the walls. They tell her that other than themselves, a few rats and some insects, no.

I ask here what the others are doing, and if anyone is going to back Harold up. I also point out that the circle on the map is a well. Which was a mistake.
“Well, well, well…” – Just about everyone.
“I want to go check out the well.” – Sins.
“I have a feeling he’s going to throw something down the well.” – Dev.
“That could only end well.” – Sins.
“It’s a good thing I’m not feeling well or I’d throw you down.” – Dev.
That didn’t get too many laughs.
“And the Pun-King retains his crown.” – Dev.
“All shall tremble before me?” – Sins.
“I might be putting the rat-poison in your food tonight.” – Delphi.
“Take her out for dinner Sins, take her out for dinner.” – Ladyhawk.

We recap what everyone is going to do.
“Maebh, Aeva and Breanna are following Harold through, Kel’Serrar checking out the well right?”
“One of us had to check out the prison well.” – Sins.
“Very well.”
“Good one.” – Ladyhawk, as the others groaned in agony.
“Might as well.” – Delphi.
“We’re going to be here forever.” – Dev.
“It appears we’ve fallen in a hole…” – It takes them a minute to get that one.

But moving on…

Harold, Breanna, Maebh and Aeva:
Upon stepping inside the building the companions are greeted with an old, musty scent of blood and rotting flesh. It smells foul, and where they have smelt a great many things which smell like death and decay, this is not a familiar one. This is old, and somewhat malevolent.

An overcast day outside it may be, but inside it is pitch black. The few windows there are inside are boarded up. Maebh and Aeva take a second to conjure a flame each, and light a torch each for Breanna and Harold. Strangely, the firelight does not seem to penetrate the shadows as it should, and their visibility is poor.

“Hello?” – Harold, calling out to the darkness. The only answer he receives is his own dull echo.

A long hallway stretches ahead of them. It is quite bare, save for old torches set into sconces on the wall. A flight of stairs leads up, which will presumably lead them up onto the wall. Aeva lights each torch behind them.

I ask for Perception Checks. They all pass.
“You notice nothing.”
“Good one.” – Ladyhawk. I can’t figure out if she was being serious.

Upon going upstairs there is another set of stairs, these leading down, another hallway and a closed door. They all choose to go downstairs, not wishing to split the party.

I ask for Perception Check again. All pass.
“You notice nothing.”
“You’re wasting all my good rolls! We get into combat and I’m going to punch myself in the face, that is how badly this is going!” – Delphi.

Kel’Serrar
The ranger looks down the well and can see at a glance that it is far more full than it should be. Bodies float on the surface, merely feet away from where he stands at the edge, and the water is obviously fouled by the corpses. The ‘water’ if you could call it such, is like reddish-grey sludge. The grass at the base of the well, where most of the grass in the cold courtyard is yellowed and dying, is black and completely devoid of life, like it has been strangled.

Harold, Breanna, Maebh and Aeva:
Upon going downstairs, the companions are met with another long hallway another door, this time to the left which would, presumably, lead to the main part of the keep. They have no way of knowing without opening it however, as there are still no windows. Harold opens the door, and a chill breeze buffets them. Ahead, two smaller structures which join onto the towers on the walls, a much larger structure, several stories high which must be the main part of the asylum.

The ground is rocky, with sparse pockets of dead and dying grass. There is no sign of life anywhere. The companions wander around the courtyard, trying to find evidence of what happened here.

Kel’Serrar:
After investigating the well, Kel’Serrar decides to find the rest of his companions, and enters the building to follow them, using the torches Aeva lit behind her as a guide.
I ask for two Perception Checks. Both are passed.
“You notice nothing unusual. It’s creepy, but nothing happens.”
The players are starting to get really nervous.

Having gone up and then downstairs, Kel’Serrar is about to exit the building to join the others in the courtyard when a strong gust of wind blows through from behind him. The torches snuff out and the door slams shut.

I ask what their next move will be.
“Well there’s five of us, and five structures we can investigate…” – Sins, with a ****-eating grin.
“No! No splitting the party.” – Dev, a sentiment expressed by everyone else at the table.
I’m feeling pretty good about this. They’re panicking.

The party decides to check out the main building, approaching the large, carved wooden double doors cautiously. Upon opening the doors, they are greeted by a large, somewhat decrepit looking entrance hall and a large, ornate flight of stairs, leading to a floor above.

On the floor above stretches a long hallway with four doors. All are closed, but the one on the far left is boarded up with planks nailed to the wall. Like moths to a flame, they go for the boarded-up door first.

I ask for Perception Checks from everyone. Most pass, Harold and Maebh get just slightly over. I start to scribble down some information.
“Are you writing down what Sins, LD and I see but they don’t?” – Delphi.
I don’t answer, but just keep up the manic writing.
“Is he even listening to me?” – Delphi, to Sins.
“I don’t think so.” – Sins.
“He’s just writing down, ‘You notice nothing’ over and over again.” – LD.
I finish writing and hand the paper to Dev and Ladyhawk.
“No it must be, ‘You notice the GM is screwing with you.’ – Sins.
“So they fail and they get information? What is going on?” – Delphi, somewhere between confused and panic.
“What the hell man!?” – LD, to me.
“Oh, because we’re seeing things, right?” – Dev, to me after reading his note.
“Are you?”
“Aww ****. Ladyhawk, I think we’re seeing things.” – Dev.
“Just keep in mind, whatever it was, it affected both of you…” – Trying to creep them out just a little more.

Both Maebh and Harold stiffen for a moment. They could have sworn they saw an Invarrian woman in a white dress walk along the hallway and through the boarded-up door. She was only there for a second, and badly illuminated by the uncertain torchlight, but the mage and duellist turn to each other, their reactions confirming to themselves that they both saw her. Maebh curses under her breath and casts a quick spell which will allow her to see illusions for what they are.

None of the other companions seem to have noticed anything.

Shrugging to himself, Harold takes his boarding axe and hacks his way through the planks in short order. On the other side of the doorway, the small room appears to have been undisturbed for many years. It is cluttered with detritus, and an array of what appear to be tables with wheels attached to the legs and thick leather straps on the table-tops. A wooden bench is set into the back left corner of the room and it is covered with a wide variety or rather nasty looking metal instruments which would not look out of place in a master torturer’s lair. Behind the tables, on the left wall there is another door, again boarded up with planks and nails.

Harold sniffs the air, but despite what he feared he would smell, all he gets is the musty smell of damp and age. Despite this, all the companions have a very bad feeling about this place. They push the tables aside and Harold takes up his axe once again, hacking through the boards with ease.

They find another long hallway, the dust in which suggests it has not seen use for many, many years. The hallway is windowless and bare, made of piled stone and white wooden panels. After going through the doorway, they turn left to follow the hallway, as to their right is just a featureless wood and stone wall.

Perception Checks once more. All pass.
“Very good, you see nothing of note.”
Sins and Ladyhawk, as Maebh and Kel’Serrar have magically aided sight, Maebh from her spell and Kel’Serrar from his ring he got a couple of sessions ago, are getting quite nervous. Well Ladyhawk was. I’m sure Sins was probably coming up with some sort of cunning plan to somehow become a ghost or something. I can never tell with Sins.

They reach the end of the hallway and turn right and come across a room filled with coffins which have been stacked upon each other in a very haphazard fashion. Many haven’t been closed and so the companions can see that each holds an ancient Invarrian skeleton. The coffins in many places stack up to over six feet tall, in a flagrant display of disregard for the dead.

“All skeletons here, as far as we can see, right?” – Aeva, investigating some of the bodies.

“Yes, that’s right.” – Maebh, poking through the coffins.

“But the bodies outside in the ditch were killed for more recently than everyone in here.” – Aeva.

“The well too. It is packed with corpses, no more than a month old.” – Kel’Serrar.

Aeva starts entreating the spirits in the area to try and bring anything living to the company, but she is unsuccessful. The spirits either won’t, or can’t, listen to her.

“That is not promising.” – Aeva, sitting back on her haunches.

“I can try something, but you’ll have to watch my body cause I’ll have to sit down for a while, and I‘ll be more or less helpless while I’m doing it.” – Kel’Serrar, to the nods of the companions.

He sets himself comfortably on the ground and starts to attune himself to the area. Upstairs, he can just hear the breathing and slight movements of something approximately man-sized. It is probably alive, but not moving all that much. There is nothing else but the tiniest signs of life in the walls, termites and other insects and spiders and slightly larger vermin like the occasional rat.

Sins passes his Woodland Senses Checks. The only Major Talent taken by the party, it really has gotten a lot of use.

“We are not alone… It’s above us.” – Kel’Serrar, in the midst of his trance.

“That isn’t good. We’re going to have to see what it is though.” – Harold, thoughtfully as Breanna carefully shakes Kel’Serrar out of his reverie.

“And we’ll need to find a way up too.” – Maebh, quietly.

The companions head back out to the hallway at the top of the grand staircase. There is a doorway to the left of the stairs and two more to the right. Harold and Kel’Serrar take the closest door, Breanna and Aeva the next and Maebh takes the one at the very end of the hallway.

Harold and Kel’Serrar:
I ask for Perception Checks once more. Both pass.
They open the door and reveal what appears to be a mess hall of sorts. Long tables line the room and an empty fireplace sits unused against the far wall. On the tables sit plates of uneaten food, many weeks old, spoiled and attacked by rats.

“Can you smell… roast meat?” – Harold, quietly to Kel’Serrar, who wordlessly shakes his head. Harold is just confused, but he gets this irrational feeling that dinner has just been served…

Aeva and Breanna:
Again I ask for Perception Checks. Both girls pass. They see nothing out of the ordinary.
Ahead of them lies an expansive room filled with what appear to be cells. The doors to all of them are iron bars, and all but one, are closed and locked. The locked ones have decomposing bodies within, but the open one is empty, the door creaking gently in a gentle wind blowing in from a gap in the wall.

I ask for Perception Checks again from Aeva, Breanna and Maebh.
Aeva and Breanna pass.

Aeva and Breanna slowly make their way across the room to the staircase which leads upwards to the next floor. They see nothing much of interest within the cells and they choose not to bother with the corpses within.

Maebh
Maebh of course, failed her Perception Check.

The mage opens the door before her and is confronted with a large, ornate mirror. The silvered surface reflects a ghastly fanged face for but a split second, which seems to loom out of the darkness towards her. Maebh takes in a sharp breath and then all she can see in the mirror is her own reflection.

“Everyone, we’ve found a way up!” – Aeva, calling out to the rest of the party.

Maebh shakes herself, makes sure that her arcane sight is still active and then makes her way to the rest of the group.

* * *

Phoenixguard09
2016-08-12, 01:08 AM
And we are back. :smallsmile:

The companions reunite at the staircase which Aeva and Breanna found. Upon climbing the stairs, the companions come to a large and empty room, with mounds of dead rats and other vermin on the floor. There is a door to their left and what seems to be a boarded up wooden wall. Another door lies on their right. Aeva rests a hand against the boards on the wall and is taken aback when she hears an ear-splitting scream.

“What was that!?” – Aeva, panicked.

“What was what?” – Harold, confused.

“No one else heard that?” – Aeva, to the shaking heads of her companions.

Attempts to recreate the sound are unsuccessful.

“Okay, so what are we actually looking for in here?” – Aeva.

“Well, Reinn is supposed to be in here somewhere, but I am interested in trying to find some records or an archive or something.” – Harold.

“There is something alive above us. Hopefully that is Reinn.” – Kel’Serrar.

“So, we split up then, yes?” – Maebh, standing at the left-hand door.

Breanna, Kel’Serrar and Maebh decide to take the left door while Aeva and Harold take the one on the right.

Aeva and Harold:
I ask for Perception Checks again, and an Intelligence Check from Aeva.
Everyone passes Perception, but Delphi fails Aeva’s Intelligence Check.
“Can I use a Luck re-roll for that one?” – Delphi.
“You certainly can.”
“Will I be getting more information if I do?” – Delphi.
“Yes, you would.”
“Okay, yep, passed.” – Delphi, re-rolling.
“How many Luck points do you have now?” – Dev, curious.
“Uh, yeah, one.” – Delphi, slightly abashed.
“Oh no…” – And there it is, proof that I really was concerned on her behalf for what she was about to get into without the Luck point safety blanket.

I’m really a nice guy. Promise.

Aeva thinks about the screaming wall a little logically and realises something. The spirits in this place are long since gone, either departed or deceased, insofar as they can be actually considered dead. So whatever it was could not have been a tortured nature spirit or something of the like, but rather an actual echo of something which occurred in the past.

She shivers, and not from the cold.

We all hummed the X-Files theme here.

Harold and Aeva decide to go through the door on the right hand side of the room, and come into a smaller room, empty and bare save for a large, high-backed leather chair and another staircase.

Cautiously, Aeva moves towards the chair and reaches out a trembling hand. For a moment she can see an old Invarrian man sitting in the chair, a small glass of alcohol in his hand.

And then he is gone.

“Harold, did you see that?” – Aeva, concerned.

“No, what?” – Harold, startled.

“There was an old man on that chair. He was drinking something.” – Aeva.

“I didn’t see him. Did he look threatening?” – Harold, quietly.

“No, he was… Reflecting on something.” – Aeva, still looking around the room.

“I’ve been seeing, smelling, feeling things too. Earlier in the dining hall I swear I could smell fresh roast meat. And then of course when we came into this building I saw a woman walk through that boarded up door. I’m pretty sure Maebh saw it too.” – Harold, thoughtful.

“So I’m not going mad. I thought stuff was only happening to me.” – Aeva, rubbing her temples.

Breanna, Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
Breanna’s eyes widen in shock as the door swings open before her. The floor of the room beyond is covered in a thick pool of blood. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them once more she sees the ghostly figure of a slave mopping the blood over the floor. He gives a chilling grin and vanishes.

“Are you okay Bree?” – Maebh, to the visibly shaken Leathe.

“Yeah, it was nothing.” – Breanna, shaking herself.

“No, I saw something too. An Invarrian, hanging from the ceiling, throat slashed open, blood pouring from the wound. Is that what you saw?” – Maebh, to the wide-eyed Leathe.

“No, I saw a man mopping blood over the floor. With that said, they’re probably connected.” – Breanna, walking over to the wall before her.

“Now, if my theory is correct, that screaming from earlier should have come from, just about… here.” – Breanna, pressing a furry palm against the wooden wall.

Nothing happens.

The Leathe shrugs and makes to turn away, but Maebh groans in frustration and she blows a hole through the wall with her flames.

Aeva and Harold:
The Selkye and the Invarrian walk down a long hallway, with three doors set into the left wall. They open the first one and reveal an empty room. They do not bother exploring it and open the second door which reveals a long room filled with a maze of bookshelves.

The two companions search through the records and realise quite swiftly that the newer ones are closest to the door and the filing system seems to be just to push the older documents to the back of the room.

“Can we find any on your friend?” – Aeva, quietly.

“He’s not really my friend. I didn’t know him well. In fact, I always thought he was a bit of a pretentious prat.” – Harold, before picking up a random file and starting to read.

Aeva shrugs and follows suit.

“Ah, I have it. Oh, look at this. Apparently he didn’t stop ranting about some ‘Grey Devourer’ since he got here. He believes that its kind ate his crew and the End Times are nigh.” – Aeva.

“Check this out. Apparently servants and staff here and other inmates started ranting about the same stuff after coming into contact with him too. This servant, ah, yeah there it is, Ranulf, drowned himself hours after cleaning Reinn’s room.” – Harold, darkly.

This does not bode well.

“The last date I can find here is from about two months ago.” – Harold.

“Yes, that’s more or less what I have here. Here, it looks like whoever was writing in Reinn’s file at the end here ended up the same way.” – Aeva, handing the parchment over to the Invarrian. A single note is scrawled at the bottom of the page in a spidery hand.

They are coming.

Breanna, Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
Maebh’s flames have revealed a very, very small room. A stone wall is before them, but it is the gaps between the stones which causes the companions’ consternation, for the wall has been constructed using the remains of the dead as mortar. Skulls and other bones jut out from the wall in a macabre fashion, and on the floor lie yet more corpses. Amidst them is a small, golden amulet. Both Maebh and Kel’Serrar can clearly see that it is possessed of some very dark magic and that touching it would probably be a very bad idea.

Breanna for her part goes very still and seems to be staring at the wall, locked in a trance of sorts. Suddenly, with a huge gasp of air, she falls to the ground, shaking. The Danann look at her, but she shakes her head as she stands.

“It was nothing. Don’t mind me.” – Breanna, breathing heavily.

Aeva and Harold:
Aeva prepares a spell to contact the others before trying to find old references to the Grey Devourer in the records.

”Come to us, we have found the archive.” – Aeva’s Whispering Wind.

Breanna runs to them, trying to ignoring the prickling on the back of her neck like she is being watched…

Kel’Serrar and Maebh:
Kel’Serrar looks on as Maebh swiftly undoes the curse on the amulet, rendering it safe to hold.

“I believe it was some kind of mind-altering spell.” – Maebh, to the ranger who nods.

“A cruel trick to play in an asylum.” – Kel’Serrar, sagely.

Kel’Serrar carefully picks up the amulet and inspects it. On one side it bears an image of the waves with a large and powerful looking Invarrian emerging from them. On the other, a grinning Invarrian is depicted, flipping a coin. He resolves to ask Harold about it and the two make their way to the archive to join the others. When they arrive, Maebh, Aeva and Breanna start poring through the records, with the Leathe and the Danann looking at everything recent and Aeva looking through the older records, albeit those not written in Old Invarrian.

Kel’Serrar meanwhile takes Harold aside and shows him the amulet.

“Aye, they’re religious symbols, showing our dedication to the God of the Waves and the Golden God. We, like our gods are the same coin, but with two faces. We bless in the name of the Golden God, who represents all that is good and fun about our nature, while the God of the Waves represents our darker and more dangerous parts and so it is by him that we curse.” – Harold, going into theologian mode.

“So how would it have come here?” – Kel’Serrar.

“Well they are quite common amongst the nobility. Hell, even peasants might have them if they had any wealth at all. When you consider the history of this place, there should probably be dozens around here. Well here, look, I have one too.” – Harold, pulling out his own, practically identical amulet and showing it to Kel’Serrar.

“Okay, the earliest reports of the Grey Devourer I can find and actually understand were approximately five centuries ago, but details are extremely scarce.” – Aeva, sharing her findings.

“In the last couple of decades though, there have been several people who have claimed to see shark-men in the waters. A few have even said they have some kind of mind-controlling powers.” – Breanna, who has had more luck with details.

Harold finds an old book of mythology and flips it open. It is hardly a record of anything, and he has no idea of what it is doing in this archive, but he finds that it details stories of the first Stormlord. Apparently he fought a great beast called the Devourer and defeated it with the Gilded Sword.

“Looks like someone was on the same track we are.” – Harold, laying the book out and showing it to the companions.

* * *

After going through everything they could find in the archive, the companions move on. The next room they discover is almost like a maze, portraits hanging from every wall. Aeva gasps as she realises that she recognises one of the faded paintings as the Invarrian man she saw earlier, sitting in his chair. The plaque under the portrait reads Lord Steelshield.

“Ah, Steelshield. He was the first lord of this keep, well before it became an asylum.” – Harold, reminiscent.

Harold recognises other names, but he does not recall any details.

The last picture on the wall looks like a real bastard of a person, but there are no plaques revealing identities after the first row, which means that the plaques were abandoned upon the death of the Steelshield family line.

The subject of the last portrait bears a ring, showing the sigil of the Stillhet asylum, which leads the companions to deduce that this was one of the people in charge of the asylum.

A stairway lies ahead, a closed door at the top. They open it and reveal one more room. In the centre of the room lies a chair, within which sits a black-furred Invarrian. He is wasted away, chained to the chair and wearing a thick leather muzzle. He looks up at them and groans weakly.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
Sorry this took so long to post, but I have been seriously busy lately. We have another session this weekend, plus I am also one session behind anyway.

Suffice to say this campaign is not dead by any stretch, and in fact things are just starting to rise to a crescendo.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-10-13, 10:55 AM
Session 5.2: Of Haunted Mansions and Poor Decisions

You can feel the hatred in the very walls. This place is altogether evil. The air we breathe is a poisonous fume, which drives us all to madness and death. I would not wish to be here, not if it were the last safe place in the world. Do you hear me? You savages! Do you hear me? Let me out!

I SAID LET ME OUT!”
- The last words of Ogruf Safeport, warden of Stillhet in the year 1411 CE. Safeport then hanged himself in front of the archivists he had held hostage in the asylum’s archive for the past three hours.

Welcome to Session 5.2: The Siege of Stillhet.

We begin where we left off, in the top room of the asylum of Stillhet, or Serenity.

Harold barely recognises the sorry figure bound before the companions as Reinn, the brother of the late Stormlord.

“Oh Reinn, what happened to you?” – Harold, sorrowful.

There is a large window behind Reinn’s chair which looks out over the bay, and Breanna finds herself drawn to it. There, below, pulling into the docks beside the Tide Tremor, is an Invarrian longship. She recognises it immediately.
“Oh ship.” – Delphi.

“We have company.” – Breanna, over her shoulder to her companions, who then join her at the window.

“Silver wolf-skull on sabres. Windchaser.” – Harold, growling under his breath. He walks over to Reinn and cuts the muzzle from him.

“So, Reinn, how goes the Game?” – Harold, friendly.

Reinn looks at Harold with a horrified expression.

“Quick, you must leave now! Leave! Get out! Run, run now!” – Reinn, practically screaming in Harold’s face.

“Unfortunately, Reinn you’re the heir presumptive. We need to get you out of here.” – Harold.

“No, you cannot. I must not leave, they told me!” – Reinn.

“You will die if you stay!” – Harold.

“I cannot die. Do you know how long I have sat in this chair, with nothing to eat, nothing to drink? I have been here an eternity, and yet I have not died. When they took me, they changed me… I cannot be killed.” – Reinn, to the silence of the companions.

Breanna, still at the window, sees Invarrians disembarking from the longship below.

“Okay, we’ve got some trouble now. Let’s hurry.” – Breanna, trying to get them to get a move on.

“Do you at least want to be unbound?” – Harold, to Reinn.

“No, I cannot be trusted. Leave me and run! They can make me do their bidding at any time, with no warning. I can do nothing about it, and they force me to do things, horrible things! If I am free, I might turn on you, and you cannot kill me. They told me I am the Grey Devourer’s herald, and that I cannot die until my purpose is complete. Once they have hold of me, nothing you do can stop me. Now go! Now!” – Reinn, frantic.

“GO ASHORE! TAKE ANYTHING VALUABLE! LEAVE NONE ALIVE!” – The magically amplified voice of Ovar Windchaser, directing his reavers.

“I hate that bastard. I can’t be killed, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be hurt. I don’t particularly want to be stuck in a chair with that sadistic bastard stabbing me incessantly. Do it, release me and I will try to aid you.” – Reinn, who recognises Windchaser’s voice from years at court.

“Will shortswords do?” – Harold, to Reinn as he cuts the ties. The newly freed Invarrian nods and accepts the blades.

“Good, now don’t stab us in the back.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly.

* * *

The companions devise a plan to defend the fortress with Aeva’s and Maebh’s spellcasting. Maebh will put up a blade-wall on either side of the gatehouse, with Aeva snaring as many as she can as they run through the gates. Maebh will then move the blade-walls towards each other, basically mincing the reavers stuck in between them.

“Someone is about to have a **** day.” – Sins.

INSERT MAP HERE

With a growl, Maebh causes two walls of golden aethyric blades to spring into existence on either side of the gate. Beside her, Aeva takes the shape of a hawk and flies to the roof of the main structure before planting a magic snare on the gateway itself.

A stream of Windchaser's reavers come through the gate, a half dozen of them caught in a flare of ice-blue magic as they try to enter the complex. They seem remarkably well-drilled, and they do not panic at the sight of the spinning amber blades. Instead, they do their best to get past them.With some effort, Maebh begins to push the blades towards the reavers, slashing into and through the tightly-packed Invarrians.

Maebh’s initial assault decimates the first wave of reavers. Of sixteen Invarrians, none have managed to get through the ephemeral blades without injury. Six of them were mulched instantly, and another four slump to the ground with serious injuries. More of the sea-wolves get through the gate behind them.

She feels a strain on her consciousness and redoubles her resolve, shrugging off the attempt to control the blades.

To Kel’Serrar’s magically assisted vision, it is clear that tendrils of some power are coming from an individual near the Invarrian ship.

“Something is trying to take control of the blades.” – Maebh, to the other companions.

“I know, I can see it.” – Kel’Serrar.

“Can you shoot it?” – Harold.

“No, I can see where the power is coming from, but not the target itself. I just know it is near the ships.” – Kel’Serrar, frustrated.

“Set fire to the ship then?” – Breanna, trying to be helpful.

“If I do that, the fire could easily spread to the dock.” – Kel’Serrar.

“And then to our ship. Yeah, not good.” – Harold, making a very good point.

A few reavers coming ashore have bows, so Kel’Serrar and Breanna put a couple down with extreme prejudice.

Aeva throws another snare just in front of the door to enter the main part of the asylum, which entraps another eight reavers, most of them still bearing severe wounds from Maebh’s bladewall.
“You know, this name is a bit misleading. How are they getting through?” – Ladyhawk.
“It’s a collection of ethereal blades, loosely held together with magic, spinning randomly. It is possible to get through, just very dangerous.”
“See, if it were really a wall though, they wouldn’t be able to get through.” – Ladyhawk.
“Right, yeah fair point I guess.”
“So it is more of a blade-curtain then, right?” – Ladyhawk.
“I don’t mind that actually, we might rename it.”
“The hanging drapes of blades?” – Sins.

Nine reavers manage to evade the blades and Aeva’s snares and get through the door and into cover. Half a dozen arrows answer Kel’Serrar and Breanna’s shots. One arrow grazes the Danann’s cheek and another thuds into his shoulder. The Leathe also takes a shot which manages to just punch through her chest-armour.

Maebh, standing at the window, directs the movement of both blade-curtains. One presses towards the gate, the other to the doorway into the asylum. The sheer power involved in maintaining and shifting the blades is immense, but it leaves her slightly vulnerable to the reaver mage’s attempts to steal control. A gigantic mental force buffets her mind causing her to reel away in shock and anger. She beats him off, and still her blades keep spinning, but she knows that she might not be able to retain her hold for much longer.

“We need to get rid of that mage.” – Maebh, to her companions.

“Don’t worry, Bree and I are on it.” – Aeva, calling down from the roof above.

“Harold, if they set fire to this structure, we will all burn as they laugh. We need to spread out and engage them. They won’t burn their own.” – Reinn, quietly.

“Skirmish with them?” – Harold.

“Aye, out in the halls and on the stairways. We can hold them off throughout this accursed building.” – Reinn, determined.

The two Invarrians head out to protect the stairs up to the room.

Kel’Serrar takes another archer out with an arrow and Breanna leaps out of the window. Aeva, in the shape of a giant hawk, swoops down and snatches up the falling Leathe in mid-air. The companions share a grin at the consternation of the reavers as they notice the sight of a truly gigantic hawk bearing a large possum replete with daggers, knives and a wicked smile.
“I’m not too heavy am I?” – LD.
“See LD, it’s not a matter of how heavy you are, but where she grips you. I assume by the husk.”
I have been waiting for the opportunity to make that Monty Python reference for years.

Aeva/Hawk and Breanna finally get a look at the reaver-mage, a hunched and greying Invarrian, who looks up at them and snarls.

“Bring them down!” – Invarrian mage.

Four spears and seven arrows fly up at the two companions, but Aeva is able to evade the missiles without too many problems. One arrow flies through the feathers on one wing, another hits Breanna but doesn’t penetrate her armour. Only one spear gets close to the two companions, but Breanna is able to parry it away with a knife.

To Aeva’s sight, the mage has a multitude of spirits roiling around him and she knows that he is preparing a powerful piece of magic. So she drops Breanna from her talons as she flies past and then lands on the prow of the Windchaser longship before changing her shape into that of a dagger-lion.

“Okay LD, Agility Check to stick the landing.”
“Can we just make a rule that she doesn’t need to roll to pass these anymore?” – Dev.
“I got a 6.” – LD, to the laughter of the rest of the group.
“****ing dice Jesus.”
“I think it saves time to just rule that she doesn’t need to roll.” – Dev.
“In fact, let’s just not have her touch the dice at all to spare our feelings.” – Sins.
“Okay LD, you’re surrounded by four reavers and a preoccupied druid, but you’re being backed up by basically a smilodon. What will you do?”
“I’ll shank someone in the kneecap.” – LD.
“Isn’t it flank someone in the kneecap?” – Dev, questioning.
“No, shank in the kneecap equals flanking. It’s a note I actually have on my sheet.” – LD.

As an aside, Sins owns a sentient dice which actually seems to loathe Dev. It constantly rolls high when he says he wishes to roll to hit, but never higher than a 3 when he states he is rolling to wound.
“We need to microwave that mother****er.” – Delphi.

One last note, I have referred to the Invarrian magic user as a mage, because that is what the companions guessed he was, but he was in fact a Druid if I remember correctly.

Breanna’s attempts to strike at the reavers around her are thwarted by their blades and shields, and without the advantage of surprise, the Leathe finds herself overmatched.

Aeva/Lion meanwhile has more luck, pouncing on an Invarrian and ending his life with her fangs.

Maebh, Kel’Serrar and Harold:
The companions can clearly hear screams from the building the Windchaser reavers just entered.

“What the hell is happening out there?” – Harold, from the stairs where he waits with Reinn. They have exchanged their other weapons for two spears Harold picked up on his travels and which he carries with him for just such occasions.

“You know how you have all been dealing with hallucinations and ****? Well to get to us now, they have to go through all that too.” – Kel’Serrar, calling back to the Invarrian.

Nine reavers managed to enter the building. Five stagger out, terrified and hoarse, clutching at their weapons. One is missing his arm, torn off at the shoulder, the flesh blackened and dying where the limb had been removed. He staggers out into the light and stops for a split second, relief evident on his features. To the horror of the watching Maebh and Kel’Serrar however, the reaver’s ordeal is not yet over as a taloned ghostly hand reaches out from the yawning darkness of the doorway behind him, grasps him by the shoulder and swiftly draws him back into the shadows.

I ask for a Perception Check from Dev. He passes.
“Okay, keep in mind that you passed this time.”

From the dark stairway below, Harold and Reinn can hear the echoes of a violent past. Screaming, shrieking, moaning, the rattling of chains and snarls of insane savagery waft up from below as if on a foul wind. Footsteps can be heard coming towards them, ever louder.

Cue Nazgul screeching. Because, of course.

Harold looks over at Reinn swiftly and the heir looks absolutely terrified, fists clenched around his borrowed swords. They can hear doors opening at the front of the building and they prepare themselves to fight off both the shades of Stillhet and the approaching reavers.

Breanna and Aeva:
Back on the longship, two reavers press in on the cornered Leathe, but she moves like lightning and is able to avoid most of their strikes, two heavy hits connect which batters her a bit, but she is able to get free of them. The others on-board move in on Aeva/Lion, swords, axes and boarding pikes ready. The beast that is Aeva takes a few flesh wounds, but nothing too serious.

“Take the lion alive!” – The reaver-mage, who is staying well away from the blades and fangs.

“Oh no, that doesn’t sound good.” – Ladyhawk.
“I don’t like this at all.” – Delphi.

Aeva finally realises that the reaver-mage must actually be a druid as at first, he entreats the spirits around him to form a terrible storm overhead. Then he becomes irate as it is taking too long, and he begins forcing them to do his will. Aeva is disoriented as all around the spirits of nature scream in agony.

“This is really not good.” – Delphi.

Maebh, Harold and Kel’Serrar:
Dodging arrows from the handful of reavers below, Maebh leaves the window and moves to aid Harold and Reinn on the stairs. With a quick incantation, she shields herself in lightning and takes up her spear in between the two Invarrians.

For his part, Kel’Serrar alternates between loosing accurate and deadly shots at the reavers below and taking cover under the windowsill. Locked in an archery duel, the Danann’s preternatural senses and abilities hold him in good stead. He has the high ground and stationary, heavy cover. Though outnumbered substantially, his foes never really stand a chance.

On the stairway, Harold manages to put his spear into the throat of what he initially believes to be the first of the reavers to appear below them. The Invarrian vanishes into a pool of black blood which splashes over the stairs and walls before the companions’ very eyes. They have only a few seconds to marvel at this before a tide of Invarrian revenants stream up the stairs, eyes gleaming with a fell light in the shadows, jaws stretched impossibly wide. Only three spears hold the stairway, but any that get too close to Maebh are struck by the swirling tempest of magic which surrounds her.

Aeva and Breanna:
The Leathe manages to disengage from her opponents, sprints past her companion, vaults over the longship’s railings and legs it for the comparative safety of the asylum.

Aeva, affronted and physically hurt by the torment of the spirits which is happening around her decides to put everything into a flat-out assault on the reaver-druid. She wears the attacks of Windchaser’s boarding-pike armed personal guard, taking a long and horrific gash down her side and flank, and pounces on the surprised and distracted druid on the pier, ripping at him with claws and fangs.

The torment of spirits ceases, but now Aeva is in a completely untenable position. Cut-off, wounded, surrounded and with no support.

At this point I gave the players an option. Their companion was in deep trouble, and also, crucially, out of Luck. So to help her escape, I bartered with them. A single Luck Point each to give her a chance to get free.

Despite most of them being down on Luck, they all accepted without hesitation. I have such a good group. :P

Aeva leaves the reaver-druid on the wooden pier, bleeding and battered and leaps into the ocean, upon which she turns into her whale-form and swims slowly for the beach, lifeblood trickling into the salt-water.

Breanna sees that Maebh’s bladewall is still active in the gateway, the amber blades still spinning due to the Danann mage’s indomitable will. She stops, turns, and readies herself for the handful of reavers pursuing her from the ships.

But the strikes do not come.

Windchaser has told his men to halt, and strides up to the diminutive Leathe.

“Tell Oakenshield that I will meet him out here for single combat.” – Windchaser, allowing Breanna to leave.

Breanna gulps, nods and scurries over the wall back to her companions.

“Ladyhawk, we’re not going to do a proper combat, you’re just going to fry them.” – Dev, laughing.
“I don’t think I can just fry them Dev, I don’t think I have enough points for that. Cause someone changed the system.” – Ladyhawk, pointedly looking at myself. Ladyhawk is still upset about the addition of Soulfire.
“Yeah Sins!” – I exclaim defiantly.

* * *

Phoenixguard09
2016-10-13, 11:01 AM
And we are back. :smallsmile:

Maebh, Harold and Reinn:
The tide of spirits hurling themselves up the stairway at the companions halts. Reinn starts to run downstairs.

“Reinn! Stop!” – Harold, but the mad heir does not stop. Harold follows him.

“Harold, what are you doing?” – Maebh, who takes up her spear and follows the two Invarrians.

Aeva:
Having made her way to the beach, the critically wounded Aeva changes her form once more into a seilbak and shuffles along, trying to find cover. Thankfully, if any of the reavers see her, they ignore her.

Delphi chose the seilbak because it has the highest health of any of her available creatures, along with the hakal, but she was concerned about staying in or near the water due to the possibility the reaver-druid might still be alive and capable of calling up some nasties from the deep.

Finally, Aeva/Seilbak finds a rocky outcrop to hide behind and changes back into her regular form, grimacing in pain. She finds some bandages, and with shaking hands, manages to bind the worst of the wounds. She sits with her back against the rock for moment, trying to get her breath back.

Kel’Serrar:
Now abandoned up in the asylum’s main building, Kel’Serrar picks off the last of the reaver archers outside. His keen ears can hear the screams of the reavers which have entered Stillhet’s buildings. The Danann smiles, which if anyone had seen it, would have confirmed everyone’s suspicions that Kel’Serrar is a raging sociopath.

Seeing no targets from his window, Kel’Serrar sits down on the floor, trusting that his companions will be able to prevent any enemies from gaining access to the room while he is vulnerable, and enters a trance.

Sins activates Woodland Senses and enters the trance, but is not able to detect anything yet. He does however, remain in the trance so he can try again next round.

Breanna:
For the Leathe, she has two options. The first option, to climb and leap over the high internal wall is possible, but difficult. The second, to follow the reavers inside the buildings where they are screaming in terror, is easier, but by the sounds of it, might be more dangerous.

She sticks with what she knows, and climbs the wall with no real trouble and darts around to the front of the main structure, where a few reavers are entering. Most of them are haggard and gaunt, and not a few are missing body parts. The Leathe flickers into shadow and then flits into the midst of the reavers, her knives flashing, and she puts two of the wounded Invarrians down. She then darts from reaver to reaver, slashing throats and shanking knees, all the while doing her best to get back to the room she left her companions in earlier.

Harold:
Now alone in a hallway, Harold notices puddles of what appears to be dark blood on the ground. He has lost Reinn and Maebh in the labyrinthine halls.
I ask for a Willpower Check here from Dev. He passes, but not by much.
A phantasmal clawed hand reaches out from the wall and claws at the Invarrian, tearing into his very soul. Luckily, the Invarrian’s will is strong enough that the phantom is not able to gain much purchase on him, but it is enough to hurt.

Maebh:
The mage has now lost Harold in the darkness of Stillhet, the hallways illuminated only by the constantly crackling shield of lightning around her.

With no warning at all, an Invarrian reaver strides out of the shadows and plunges a blade into the Danann’s midriff before exploding into mist. The strike hurt her considerably, but when she looks at where she was assaulted, there is no wound, just a small mark, like a bruise.

Ladyhawk couldn’t believe that she still took damage despite passing the Willpower Check I asked of her. She was also taken aback by the fact that she saw this obvious ghostly apparition despite her True-Sight spell being active.

At this stage, the companions realised that earlier the hauntings were merely residual energy which they were reacting with, but the things they were seeing were not real as such. Now, however, the blood and activity has riled the ghosts of Stillhet and now they have become something real and tangible.

From a pseudo-scientific perspective, due to the horrible events which took place here, Stillhet has an unusual concentration of electro-magnetic energy, which caused the characters to hallucinate earlier, which is why they only saw things when they failed Perception Checks and Maebh and Kel’Serrar with their True-Sight abilities were largely immune to it.

Having lost Harold and Reinn, the Danann turns and makes her way back to the room they found Reinn in, where she hopes Kel’Serrar is still safe.

Harold:
“Okay, so I’m thinking, is it possible to try and influence these spirits?” – Dev.
“What, like charm them?”
“Yeah, kind of. At least get them to stop attacking us?” – Dev.
“Like me or else, right?” – Sins.
“Not sure what the, ‘or else’ is though…” – LD.
“So basically, Charm Check. Punch the wall?” – To a smattering of laughter.
“Yeah, okay Charm Check.” – Dev.
“What are you doing sorry?” – Ladyhawk, who wasn’t listening.
“I’m going to try and address the spirits.” – Dev.
“Ah right, go on then.” – Ladyhawk, who then turns very attentively to Dev as if waiting for a grand speech.
“Oh **** off.” – Dev, laughing.
“Nah mate, you can’t say that to them, that’ll just offend them.” – Ladyhawk.
“I like it.” – LD.

“Denizens of this house, hear me! I am Harold Oakenshield, First Reaver of Varr!” – Harold, trying his damnedest. He can feel centuries of rage and hatred around him, but to his relief, he is not attacked. He figures it might well be worth trying to continue this conversation.

Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
At the very edges of his perception, Kel’Serrar can hear and feel Maebh shaking him and calling his name. He opens his eyes and slowly stands up, nodding a greeting to the mage.

And there goes about half an hour talking about Tobuscus.

“Kel, there’s some pretty freaky **** going on down there and I think we are safest if we try to stick together.” – Maebh.

“Cause she’s scared.” – Dev.
“I’m not scared Harold!” – Ladyhawk.
“You’re a chair.” – Setting LD up for an ASDF Movie joke.
“I CAN DREAM HAROLD!” – LD, who caught my reference expertly.

The two Danann go downstairs together, hoping they’ll find their companions still in one piece each. The ranger casts a silvery glow around him as they run, hoping that it might deter some of the asylum’s supernatural entities.

Harold:
“Okay, Harold, what are you doing?”
“Still trying to talk to the ghosts.” – Dev.
“Still talking to the walls then, got it.”

Convinced that he is capable of getting through to the hauntings, Harold keeps trying.

“Residents of Stillhet, rest in peace. You have passed from this world… There is nothing here for you. The Golden God has now blessed you with peace, so please, leave. Be at peace, your game is over.” – Harold, doing his best to call upon the Invarrian traditions and psyche.

“Okay Dev, roll your Charm Check.” – We were all quite impressed by his little speech. It was perfectly in-character with an impassioned delivery, which only made the following even funnier.
“Ah ****.” – A despondent Dev, as he rolled a 99.
After the gales of laughter have subsided, Dev re-rolls with a Luck Point and ends up with a far-more reasonable total of 36.

Harold’s impassioned plea has a calming influence on the house, and the oppressive feeling lessens slightly, but other than that, there is not much effect. One positive however, Harold is not attacked.

Maebh and Kel’Serrar:
The two Danann come across Harold and silently watch the Invarrian give his speech to the invisible ghasts of the asylum.
“Leave him, he’s done!” – LD, laughing.

“We need to stop killing in the buildings.” – Harold, turning to face Maebh and Kel’Serrar.

“Ah, no. They attack us, they need to die. Spirits of the house, please excuse us for a few moments.” – Maebh, feeling a lot more confident now that the three of them are together. Her words are met with an intensification of the oppression they felt lessen moments earlier.

“Great, they’ll never listen to me now. Let’s go find Reinn, and don’t kill him.” – Harold, and the three companions leave together.

Breanna:
Now inside with the reavers in the main hall of Stillhet, Breanna is the reason for the main concentration of violence within the asylum presently. A great spectral wolf bounds through a wall and pounces on her, biting down on her upper arms with great savagery. With a cry, she slams a knife into its head and it evaporates, but the damage is done, a grey bite-wound left on her bicep.

Grimacing with pain and holding her arm, Breanna retreats into her Shadowskin and makes her way upstairs, ignoring the last of the reavers, which are swallowed up behind her.

A grey wisp of mist approaches her and takes a hold of her arms with an iron grip. Slowly and inexorably, it forces her against a wall and starts to try and tear the Leathe apart.

This was getting quite dangerous for the party. Harold and Maebh had both taken damage, Aeva had dropped to 5 health before her first aid efforts and now Breanna was trapped and sitting at 4 with a Willpower Check to determine whether she took D10 or D5 damage next turn.

Aeva:
Recovered slightly from her ordeal, Aeva takes the form of a hawk and flies over to the gate, outside which Ovar Windchaser and his personal guards, the badly injured druid and what is left of the reavers have congregated. She tries to land a single-target snare on the druid, but with a snarl he smashes the butt of his staff against the ground and her hasty weaving is dispelled.

Maebh, Harold and Kel’Serrar:
The companions come to the main hall and see a horrific sight. Against the wall, Reinn is pinned by a spectral grey mist, writhing in agony as it tries to tear him apart. Already it has torn an arm away from his body, but despite this the Invarrian does not appear to be close to death, merely in horrific pain.

Against the opposite wall, the keen and magically-aided eyes of the Danann see Breanna, caught in an identical embrace, straining with all her might to keep her limbs attached. Maebh’s eyes flash with amber light and a wave of golden fire sweeps the room, burning away the phantasms and the mists binding Breanna and Reinn.

A wide range dispel using Remove Curse from Maebh.

Harold picks up the mangled Reinn and carries him out of the main hall of Stillhet, followed by the others, Maebh helping Breanna stagger out herself. Behind them, the building groans and the screams of the long dead can be heard, still railing against their fates.

Aeva:
The hawk above the reavers tries to snare the reaver-druid again, but with another irritated snarl, he is able to ignore it. He looks up and his eyes gleam with a feral light as he notices the shape of Aeva/Hawk above.

“I only have enough Soulfire for one more cast guys.” – Delphi. While she has been unsuccessful in actually snaring him, Aeva has been able to prevent the druid from doing anything other than resisting her spells, which has given the companions time to deal with the situation inside, without dealing with the negative effects of the druid’s magic.

Aeva gives it one more go, desperately trying to ensnare the druid, and this time she finally succeeds. Ice-blue tendrils of magic wrap themselves around his legs and he curses to himself as he finds himself pinned. Aeva/Hawk throws herself into a swooping attack, but has to pull-out before she can take out the druid’s eyes as she notices the pike-armed guards nearby and she knows that in her current shape she would struggle to avoid them. Instead, she flies to the gatehouse, lands and turns back to her regular form.

She takes out a dagger and hurls it with all her strength at the druid. The silvery blade flashes into his eye and he drops to the rocky ground.

“Spears! Take her down!” – Ovar Windchaser, roaring in anger and hatred.

Two spears are hurled at Aeva, but she is able to evade them and drop down from the gatehouse, taking cover behind the wall.

There is some discussion here about how Reinn is feeling.
“Considering he’s just had an arm ripped off, he’s actually surprisingly comfortable. His main concern, where most people would be worried about bleeding to death from their arm-hole, he’s most concerned with living eternity without an arm.”
“Well he does have an arm.” – Sins.
“Yeah, that was his spare. Who wants to be down to their spare?”
“He can console himself with the thought that he doesn’t really need both to be king.” – Dev.
“He’s actually not so keen on that either. He doesn’t believe that a king should come with the possibility of turning into a rage monster and trying to eat all his courtiers.”
“Ah, yes. This is true.” – Dev, pensive.
“We haven’t really thought this through at all, have we?” – Ladyhawk.

Breanna scrambles up the inner wall and lets a rope down behind her so that the others can follow her up, none of the companions wishing to risk going through the buildings of the asylum. When Harold, still carrying Reinn, reaches the top of the wall, Windchaser calls out to him.

“Oakenshield, you finally show your cowardly face!” – Windchaser, loud enough to wake the dead.

“Get wrecked Windchaser!” – Harold’s response, before he wearily makes his way down from the wall to the gatehouse, where Aeva waits patiently.
As funny as this was, it actually fits as an Invarrian threat/insult.
There are half a dozen reavers around Windchaser now, the only survivors of the ill-fated siege. That said, it doesn’t look like Windchaser really cares overmuch.

“Okay, so I want to use what’s left of my Soulfire to call up a serious storm. I don’t want this combat to get close to one of those other reavers and have him just finish Harold off with a sneaky stab from behind. If they’re distracted by being struck by lightning, they’re not going to be able to do that.” – Ladyhawk, to torrents of laughter.
“If they’re distracted by, you know, death.” – LD.
“It might shake up Windchaser too.” – Ladyhawk, deadpan.
“Yeah, it might have a slight effect, seeing his crew disintegrated around him.” – Sins.

“Windchaser, I am more than happy to duel you, but do you mind if we move this engagement to another spot, say a mile down the coastline? Blood spilt here is, well, this place doesn’t react well with blood.” – Harold, trying his best to prevent anymore horrible spirit events.

“I don’t really care Oakenshield. I don’t intend to tarry here any longer than it takes for me to remove your head from your shoulders.” – Ovar, pacing with shield and axe in hand.

"Before we commence then, what happened in Isenhjem after we left?" - Harold, trying to buy just a little time to get his breath back.

Surprisingly, Windchaser takes the bait.

"I followed your pathetic ship out of Isenhjem harbour, so I was not present for what occurred next. I received word that just hours after we departed, the entire small council was found dead, drowned in the council room. Aeluf Av-Bitterskjold was made castellan, as the only lord left of any real rank. Thanks to your speedy and inconspicuous departure, you've been declared a heretic and traitor to the throne, to be killed on sight if you approach Isenhjem. Your brother, who hid so desperately behind Bjarn's shield and happily took a seat on the small council, died with his head in a bucket of brine." - Ovar Windchaser, grinning murderously.

Harold stands still and ready, eyes searching desperately for any hint, any sign that the gigantic reaver might be lying, but to no avail.

“So be it.” – Harold, striding forward from under the gate, saber and axe at the ready.

Overhead, the skies grow ominously dark, the clouds almost black, promising destruction and death…

* * *

Blades clash together under the darkening sky as Ovar Windchaser finally gets his chance to bring down his rival. Within minutes, both combatants are breathing heavily and they disengage for a moment. Both are bleeding from a few minor injuries, but neither are close to being incapacitated.

One reaver from the ring of observers around the combatants draws a dagger and makes to strike Harold from behind just as the old duellist resumes combat. Maebh though has prepared for this exact eventuality, and a golden lightning bolt sears down from the sky and the reaver disintegrates into a pile of fine black ash. The crack of thunder is enough to throw even the most seasoned warrior off guard, and Ovar Windchaser stumbles in shock. Harold though is used to Maebh's powers, and follows up on the distraction with a solid hit to the face with the hilt of his sword.

"What was that?" - LD.
"That's a bit half-hearted really. It's not really that honourable. You've just hit him anyway." - Ladyhawk.
"Seriously, you have a sword." - LD.
"Why not hit him with the other end? You know, the pointy bit." - Delphi.

Harold stands back and allows Windchaser to get back to his feet.

"See that Windchaser? That was our mage. Next time one of your reavers tries to interfere, it'll be you on the receiving end." - Harold.

Windchaser nods his agreement and waves a hand to call his men off.

Another crack of thunder splits the air as a golden lightning bolt smashes the mast of Windchaser's ship.


Breanna and Aeva, who has come down once more and taken the shape of a dagger-lion, make for the ship, thinking to take some of the valuables likely onboard before it burns and sinks under the waves. A handful of reavers move from the ring of observers to intercept the Leathe and druid. Four more lightning bolts are hurled from the sky and they immolate a few reavers. Aeva rips through two more with claws and fangs and Breanna's knives claim another. Both scamper onto the ship and start rummaging through the valuables onboard.

They are confronted on their way off, laden down with a few choice treasures, by another reaver who clutches a sabre in one hand, and a horribly burnt face with the other, having been caught near one of Maebh's lightning bolts. Suddenly, an arrow bursts through his head, and he falls to the ground, one of Kel'Serrar's enchanted arrows flickering in what is left of his eye-socket.

Harold meanwhile manages to bear Windchaser to the ground, and while his first strike is turned aside by Ovar's shield, his second bites through the vambrace and severs his combatant's hand at the wrist.

Biting back a howl of pain, Windchaser drops his shield and draws another axe from his belt with his remaining hand. He swings wildly, but Harold sidesteps neatly and bats the weapon out of Windchaser's hand.

Windchaser surrenders.

* * *

Directly following the duel, Windchaser's ship sinks swiftly, a few choice trinkets and such recovered from the wreck by Aeva, Maebh and Breanna.

Harold forces Windchaser to sign a contract binding him as a vassal and as a witness of the party's innocence for the events which occurred in Isenhjem. As soon as their backs are turned, Windchaser draws a concealed dagger and slits his own throat.

They retreat to their ship for the night and see to their wounds. For his part, Reinn seems to be coming to terms with living life without an arm. In fact, as a positive, he figures it might be harder for him to kill and horribly mutilate people in the future if he is missing an arm.

Reinn offers to show them exactly where Werencha lies. He knows, more or less, where it is. It seems that when these creatures designated him their Herald, it was almost a two-way exchange of information. He believes he can find the location.

The heir's wound would kill any normal person. In fact, it probably should have killed him already. Even with Kel'Serrar's and Aeva's ministrations, it is a wound which would have killed most people. But of course, Reinn believes he cannot die, and so is quite happy to accompany them to the temple.

The companions set sail with Reinn on the Tide Tremor, a course set for the lost temple of Werencha.

And we pretty much left it there...

The Wrap-Up:
So this session was actually played months ago, but I've been so busy I haven't been able to finish the write-up.

I have a whole session, plus a solo mini-session with Dev to still go up before we are up to date.

We are also hoping to play another session of Whispers in the Dark within the next fortnight, and then Three Coins as soon as LD finishes up with her rehearsals in November.

Hopefully, I will be able to put at least Session 5.3 up before we play the next 3 Coins game.

Thanks for reading.

Phoenixguard09
2016-10-26, 10:04 AM
Hi there,

If you have read the first post recently then you may have noticed a few things there which may be aware of a few interesting pieces of news I will share with you now.

Firstly, the group has completed Arc 5 of Three Coins and picked up another player. Where I am currently a session and an interlude behind schedule, we have still planned a game day within the next month, so hopefully I can finish all that writing on time.

Secondly, we played Session 1.3 of Dev's Whispers in the Dark this weekend just gone. That will be posted as soon as possible, but naturally the Three Coins material will take precedence.

Thirdly, I have started running another campaign, The Great Maw, in which I will be both experimenting with an episodic structure and also testing the balance of the system in low level play. Our first session was approximately an hour and a half long and featured Ladyhawk, Sins and Dev trying desperately not to die.

As you can see, I have a lot of material to catch up on, so I had best get to it.

If you have read and enjoyed this thread, please comment. We get a real kick out of it.

By we, I mean me. I crave the respect of my peers. :smallbiggrin:

Ladyhawke
2016-11-17, 09:13 AM
Session 5.3 (a): You Were Right, Werencha Baby?

“Veita ek inn ofrelismadr vid brjota inn firar er standa orr leid. Sasi verold munu vera heimtamt inn Shakarli. Inn solbjorg munu andlit nokkurr verold grar logr. Inn saevargangr ek inn mestr kala koma. Banahogg bida…”
- Reinn Tordenwulf, the late Stormlord’s brother.

”Give me the ______ to ____ those who stand in our way. The world will __ _____ the Devourer. The _____ will ____ a world of grey water. The _______ and the great cold comes. The murder-strike waits…”
- Harold Oakenshield attempted to translate Reinn’s words in the days before his disappearance. He was only partially successful.

Welcome to Session 5.3 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.

A fortnight has passed since the companions set sail from Stillhet, or Serenity, on The Tide Tremor. Short sea voyage, largely uneventful, did not lessen the dread any of them felt now. Somewhere above, beyond the clouds, an ominous presence builds. Each day, the light of the sun grows weaker. The Devourer's gaze has been drawn, and soon the world will feel its wrath.

Reinn's condition has steadily worsened the longer he spends onboard the ship. Whether his injury or long confinement is finally catching up to him, or if it is the close proximity to the water and the entities which dwell below which is causing his distress, none can say, least of all him. He is reduced to standing at the bow of the ship, wordlessly staring towards what the party can only assume is the site of Werencha. When he speaks it is only in Ancient Invarrian…

After almost a week of sailing, with the skies growing ever darker every day, the companions finally go ashore on the largely uncharted eastern coast of Varr. Reinn leads them wordlessly inland, for several days of what feels like hopeless wandering in the thick mist and labyrinth of razor sharp rock. Finally, they arrive at a great lake, set deep in the ancient mountains. A worn road leads directly to the edge of the water, and a small camp of what appears to be pilgrims is congregating near the water's edge.

The companions decide to wait and see.

The next morning they awake to find that Reinn has disappeared. Despite setting watches during the night, no one saw him leave. They are concerned, but resolve not to let it bother them too much. He seemed to be close to death as it was, despite all his earlier assurances that this was not possible.

Basically they decide that if he were important, he’ll crop up again later. If he’s not important, ah well.

Something stirs the pilgrims by the water's edge and the companions watch in horror and wonder as an ancient temple emerges from the depths of the black lake. A causeway links the temple to the worn road, and the pilgrims begin filing through the mouldering stone doorway.

They then discuss how to get inside, and then once inside, what to do if it goes under once more.

"Does anyone else here actually have ranks in Swim?" - Ladyhawk.
"I do." - Dev.
"I can turn into a fish." - Delphi.
"You turn into a whale..."
"Same thing really. How many people can fit inside the whale's mouth?" - Delphi.
"Pretty much just Breanna. You're not a big whale."
"You know with that new talent I can go whale and then just keep my usual arms and hold their hands as I swim." - Delphi.
"Why don't you turn into an octopus and then you can grab up to eight people?" - Yohan.
"I don't have an octopus. Yet. I do hope to basically become Ursula and take over the world." - Delphi.
"With the terrible power of your eight arms..."
"Yeah, and what was it called? Ah yeah, Illusory Pit?" - Delphi.

The companions follow the pilgrims along the causeway, doing their best to just appear to be joining the march.

INSERT MAP HERE

On either side of the doorway leading into the lost temple sit two statues which resemble the Beast Under the Waves. They give off an imposing aura, and the companions feel quite unsettled by their close proximity. They stop before the Watchers and have a quick chat.

"Are these anything like the Watchers of the Way from Lord of the Rings?" - Dev.
"Uh, no?" - But they totally are.

We dissolved into a lot of off-topic chat here.

"Did anyone bring a hammer?" - Harold, quietly.

"You're a walking armoury and you didn't think to bring a hammer?" - Kel'Serrar.

"I have a spear and a compass. We can make a hammer." - Aeva, mock brightly.

"You won't have a compass anymore, but we'll have a hammer." - Breanna.

"You also may not have a compass anymore." - Kel'Serrar, quietly to Aeva.

"You stole my compass!" - Aeva, irritated.

“Somehow it comes in handy when he steals our stuff.” – LD.
“Handy is a strong way to put it…” – Dev.
“I have four throwing daggers too.” – Delphi, still reading out her gear.
“Ummm…” – Sins.
“You stole my daggers too? LD, how could that be useful?” – Delphi.
“You could steal my claymore. I wouldn’t recommend it though. I’d probably notice.” – Yohan.
“They all thought that once mate.”

“**** this.” – Harold, who steps forward and prods the statue with the haft of a spear.

Nothing happens.

“We set fire to the statue!” – LD.

The companions walk inside, and so do they enter the lost temple of Werencha.

The stone room opens before them, floor still slick with water. In the far left corner, a group of pilgrims have gathered. An archway lies before them too. The companions panic slightly at the thought that if the pilgrims turn around they are all in plain sight.

“Dev, what are you doing?”
“He’s now a pilgrim.” – Sins.
“Okay, Sins, what are you doing?”
“I’m now a pilgrim too.” – Sins.
“How far can I make Aspect Mastery extend?” – Delphi.

Aeva picked up a Major Talent last level up, called Aspect Mastery. It allows her to perform partial Wildforms on allies she can touch.

“Cause I have a dog, right? So if I just give them the dog’s head and fur, they would, at least in the dark, pass for Invarrians, right?” – Delphi.
“Yeah, I guess. They’d have the vocal capabilities of a dog though, so no speech, which means no spellcasting. They can only make dog noises.”
“You guys cool with that?” – Delphi.
“Woof woof mother****ers.” – LD, to great laughter.

"Okay, they're both puppers now." - Delphi.
"So we have two... dog-monstrosities now." - Kind of concerned.
"You know, we're not really thinking about other uses for this new ability. It would, for instance, make a hell of a frightening experience for a captive. We could easily use this for interrogation." - Sins.
Let the nightmare fuel commence.

In the end, Kel'Serrar and Harold take point, disguised as Invarrian pilgrims using Kel'Serrar's illusory abilities. Maebh and Breanna walk behind them, appearing like Invarrians themselves, but unable to talk. Aeva herself sits in Harold's pocket as a mouse.

The companions join the group of pilgrims ahead of them, Harold nodding a curt greeting to any who look.

They go through the doorway, mingling with the other pilgrims and continue down a long, stone hallway. Water drips from the ceiling constantly, a reminder that this whole structure was underwater until very recently.

Ahead of the group of pilgrims lies a shrine, of sorts. What appears to be a wooden block, chased with silver filigree sits upon the ground, and a statue forged of presumably dark iron stands upon it. The statue depicts one of the Beasts Under the Waves, one taloned hand reach out for the companions. Its eyes glint with a ruby gleam in the firelight emanating from the handful of torches held by the mob of pilgrims gathered around it.

"It appears to be an offering to the god of fireball targets Ladyhawk." - Sins.

The statue gives off an overwhelming aura of dread and disquiet.

"That's it, leaving right now." - Dev.
"Yep, going, going and gone." - LD.

Aeva/Mouse vacates Harold's pocket and scampers across the stone floor, avoiding all the feet around her. She climbs up Maebh's leg, the mage having stayed hindmost of the companions.

For the others though, the situation is a little more difficult. Harold, Kel'Serrar and Breanna are now stuck trying to get away from the statue, but the pilgrims around and behind them are pushing forwards, and the three companions are starting to draw a little attention to themselves.

There is a horrific grinding sound, and the statue's head moves. The head tilts until the eyes are resting firmly on Harold, who is trying to surreptitiously shuffle along the wall and failing miserably. Murmurs of discontent start to raise from the crowd.

"They're starting to think there's something not quite right about you all."
"Yeah, these people have weird dogs." - LD, referring to Breanna and Maebh.
"Well they haven't actually noticed Maebh yet. She's not done anything to draw attention to herself. Neither has Aeva."
"Squeak squeak mother****er." - Delphi.

The stony claw reaches up until a single talon is pointing directly at Harold, who has given up on trying to escape, and is now looking around, as if to determine who the statue is pointing at.

Aeva leaves the safety of Maebh's person and scampers to the rear of the pilgrims before turning back to her regular form.

"He's the chosen one!" - Aeva, before turning back into a mouse and making for the safety of Maebh's leg once more.

The pilgrims around Harold seem to be getting quite irate. A few pull out daggers and other short blades. Harold answers this with his own blades and the **** really hits the fan. As the pilgrims fall on Harold, Kel'Serrar takes the opportunity to pull on an invisibility glamer and Aeva undoes the dog Aspects she placed on Maebh and Breanna, allowing both to cast if they wish.

"Okay, so should I go lightning, or something more direct?" - Ladyhawk.
"Lightning might be difficult, seeing as we're inside." - Dev.
"Actually I took a Talent that allows me to call up storms wherever I wish." - Ladyhawk.
"I was wondering about that. I was also wondering about what was more direct than lightning." - Yohan.
"Could you Blade Wall again?" - Sins.
"I could, but it takes so long to get it up." - Ladyhawk.
Cue snickers.
"The pilgrims are packed wall to wall." - Sins.
"Could you do the sandwich press manoeuvre again?" - Delphi.

Violence suddenly erupts in the hallway. Maebh drops a curtain of aethyric golden blades in the enclosed area, which causes a few of the pilgrims to fly apart into pieces. Breanna punches the nearest man in the stomach and Harold starts cleaving through them with swords flying.

Breanna is able to avoid the retaliatory strike from the cultist she hit and watches as one of Kel’Serrar’s arrows erupts from the man’s head.

“Aeva, watch my back.” – Maebh, to Aeva, who drops back to the floor and takes up her spear to engage the handful of pilgrims on their side of the blade wall.

Maebh turns to face the oncoming cultists coming into the hallway from behind the companions and calls up a devastating gale which throws bodies into the air and into the walls. Bones snap under the pressure and the pilgrims are left broken and ruined by her power.

The dozen or so surviving pilgrims are caught in a blast of ice-blue magic, held helpless in place by Aeva’s power as the companions mercilessly slaughter them.

The statue remains, pointing unerringly at Harold’s chest.

“Speak, or I will beat you with an axe.” – Harold.

Unsurprisingly, the statue does not speak.

“The statue is rock, no? Cause if it is, I might be able to use my Druid abilities to talk to it.” – Delphi.
“Ah, no it is dark iron, so not really rock but metal.”
“Metal is just refined earth really though. You should know this, from, say, Avatar.” – Dev.
“We could use Speak to Sword...” – Sins.
“See when you are using that ability, you’re not speaking to the rock as much as you are the spirits within the earth. So the spirits within the earth are no longer present due to it being worked.”
“What if it has a spirit because it is a sword?” – Dev.
“No it’s not a sword, it’s a ****ing statue and there are no spirits inside it.” – Says God.

“Okay, whatever.” – Harold, who starts whaling on the statue with his axe.

It has no effect.

“Maebh, can you call up some fire on this thing? Can we try to melt it, or re-shape it or something?” – Kel’Serrar.

Maebh presses a flaming hand into the iron statue, but it remains icy-cold to the touch.

Ignoring the disconcerting effect of the continued pointing, Harold saunters up to the statue and begins prying the silver scrollwork from the wooden base with a dagger, figuring he should be able to sell the scraps.

“Don’t worry Yohan, we’ll drop you in as soon as these guys stop faffing about.”
“Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there asking himself if he really does want to join now.” – LD, laughing.
“All good, I haven’t actually finished rolling my character yet.” – Yohan, who was busy putting together one of the tankiest tanks to have ever tanked. While tanking.

Breanna meanwhile is slowly being overcome with the sheer evil of the place. The statue positively radiates dark energy and the temple is permeated with it.

Maebh takes a moment to augment her senses with magic while Kel’Serrar sits down and tries to attune himself to the environment. His efforts are stymied somewhat by the maze-like structure of the temple, but he does know that both a large creature and a party of presumably pilgrims are somewhere nearby.

The statue itself shows no signs of life. Because it is a statue.

They resolve to forget about the statue for now and head back to the main room where they take the other doorway. They reach another hallway and follow it, trying to ignore the drops of water steadily falling from the ceiling. Another doorway opens out into a bare stone room, slick with water and algae. There are two doors at the other side of the room, one straight ahead, the other slightly to the right.

Following an unusual scent, Harold could perceive, the companions take the door on the right. Directly ahead stands a group of pilgrims, all bearing blades of some description. Before them, tied to a stake is a large Feartarbh, a heavily scarred warrior. They appear to be preparing him for some kind of ritual, but the companions are having none of it.

“Am I chained to the stake?” – Yohan.
“Yes.”
“The chains in my inventory are the ones binding me then, yes?” – Yohan.
“Yeah, that’s cool.”
“Are they using my padlocks?” – Yohan.
“They can, why do you ask?”
“I have two padlocks, but only one of them has a key…” – Yohan, to the laughter of the party.

To the left there is dark water of indeterminate depth, and a very small island, upon which sits a small chest.

I found out here that the death of Bjarn Tordenwulf might have been a little unclear in Session 5.1. When Yohan read it at first, he believed that the seneschal had beheaded the Stormlord and simply stuck the head in the bucket.

Of course, I intended for that to read that the seneschal drowned the Stormlord in a bucket of sea water, but apparently it didn’t appear that way to readers. Back to the story.

Aeva immediately springs into her dagger-lion shape and pounces on two of the pilgrims, bringing them down in a flurry of claws and fangs.

Kel’Serrar, still invisible to normal sight, creeps over to the captive Feartarbh and picks the lock holding the massive warrior. In moments, the lock falls loose and Kel’Serrar stands back with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Sweet, I’m free. Do I have my kit?” – Yohan.
“No, but it is all intact and in the corner of the room.”
“Ha, who needs weapons? I am a weapon.” – Yohan.

He’s not wrong.

Harold whirls through the last four pilgrims within a matter of seconds and the companions start riffling through the corpses for loot and small change. The Feartarbh, trying to rub some feeling into his arms has staggered to the corner of the room and arrays himself for battle. He’s seen enough weirdness in his life that he is not questioning the armed band smashing their way into the room with a lion, murdering everyone within seconds and his restraints just falling off for no apparent reason.

Instead, he does the one thing which makes sense.

“Greetings, my name is Xander Wrothgar. Thank you for your assistance.” – Xander, introducing himself to the nearest of the companions, who just happens to be Harold.

“My name is Harold Oakenshield, and you are welcome.” – Harold. Behind him, Aeva transitions back to her natural form and offers a hand to the hulking warrior.

“And you no longer have an arm.” – A running joke based on the truly obscene Strength and Toughness scores Xander boasts.

Yohan asked about the money here too, which caused us to go quite in-depth regarding the coins and their values. I honestly don’t remember why I went with 12 coppers to a sulver, but I’ve stuck with it.

“Why not make it easy and go with 10?” – Ladyhawk.
“Because that would be six-ist.” – It took a moment before the collective groan went up.
“I’m ****ing done hey.” – Delphi, laughing.
“That was just bad.” – Ladyhawk.

Various other greetings are exchanged, and they pretty much just assume that Xander will tag along with them, at least until they get out of the temple. Safety in numbers and all that.

Back shortly. :smallsmile:

Ladyhawke
2016-11-17, 09:30 AM
Welcome back. :smallsmile:

“So that chest over there…” – Aeva, pretty keen to check out the chest on the other side of the water.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t. There’s something in the water. I can’t see what it is, but I’m guessing that Xander here was probably going to be sacrificed to it. Good chance it is one of the Beasts.” – Kel’Serrar. If Xander is alarmed by the disembodied voice beside him, he doesn’t show it.

“So swimming is out of the question… What about flying?” – Breanna.

They ask how high the ceiling is. I answer around 16 feet above the water’s surface.

“I can fly over there, but I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to break into the chest if it is locked.” – Aeva.

“Can you turn into something big enough to carry me over there?” – Breanna.

“Potentially, yes. Maybe. Even better, I might be able to just give you wings…” – Aeva, thinking about the suggestion.

“That ceiling is not really that high. Whatever’s in the water might still be able to jump out and get you.” – Xander, cautious.

“I’m going to try and communicate with it in what little Ancient Invarrian I can. I succeeded on the Charisma Check.” – Dev.
“Right, but, well, what are you going to try and say?”
“Ancient thing, come out so we can discuss things with you.” – Dev, to the laughter of most of the table.
“This is the same guy who tried to charm people by punching them repeatedly.” – Sins.
“Like me or die!” – Dev.
“Would you like to discuss politics? Maybe have some tea and a scone?” – Delphi.

Kel’Serrar quietly mumbles an incantation under his breath and the water is illuminated by a soft silvery light, revealing a dark shape against the rocky bottom. His earlier guess was correct, the silhouette matches that of the Beasts Under the Waves.

“I think we’ll go anyway.” – Aeva, who grabs Breanna by the shoulder and concentrates briefly before great brown wings spring from the excited Leathe’s back.

“Okay, let me just tie this around you.” – Xander, who ties a rope around Breanna’s waist.

“What’s this for?” – Breanna.

“If the Beast jumps out and gets you, this way we can pull your mangled corpse back in.” – Kel’Serrar.

Aeva shifts into her hawk shape and she and Breanna quickly fly over the water, hoping that the creature below them will not attempt to harm them in flight.

They are left unmolested and safely arrive on the far bank where Breanna pulls forth her lockpicks and sets herself at the task of opening the chest. Inside lies a pile of ancient coins, a handful of arrowheads, some truly gigantic pauldrons, a couple of knives and daggers, a necklace and a rich, black cloak folded in the bottom. The chest looks like it is simply radiating preserving magics, which explains both the intact state of the items inside and the blueish sheen emanating from the steel of the knives and pauldrons.

Aeva turns back to her natural form and they split the loot between them, leaving the coins behind. They turn and fly back over the water.

The Beast erupts from beneath and grasps Breanna as she flies, pulling her down into the strangely illuminated water. The Leathe’s left leg is left lacerated by the strike and she is struggling to swim with the sodden great wings around her and the Beast’s claws still deep in her flesh. The rope Xander helpfully tied around her was shorn apart in the Beast’s initial strike. Seeing her fall, Xander and Harold start to strip off their armour once more. The Invarrian takes two daggers and dives straight in. Xander tries to be a little more circumspect and readies himself on the bank, massive greatsword in hand.

Kel’Serrar nocks an arrow and readies himself to shoot at the Beast if it resurfaces, but is taken aback for a moment by Aeva taking the form of a hakal and plunging into the water herself.

“Before Maebh’s turn, LD, I need you to roll a Strength Check.”
“Oh ****, 89… I’m going to re-roll that one.” – LD, preparing to use a Luck Point.
“Actually, you pass. It was a Grapple Check, you only had to roll better than the Beast did.”
“Far out, what did you roll?” – LD, amazed that an 89 could still be a pass.
“Yeah, not well, but I never do.”
“Unless rolling to hurt important NPC’s. Then your rolling turns deadly.” – Sins, rubbing salt in the wound.

Bleeding profusely from the gaping leg wounds, Breanna feels the Beast’s hold on her lessen, presumably due to the shock of having a whale fall on it. She struggles to the surface and tries desperately to get out of the deadly, ice-cold water.

“Couldn’t she just fireball the lake?” – Dev, pointing at Ladyhawk.
“No, she’s in the lake.” – Pointing at LD.
“No, her.” – Dev, pointing at Ladyhawk again.
“Yeah I know, but she’s in the lake.” – Pointing at LD once more.
“So am I.” – Delphi, helpful.
“So are you Dev.” – Sins, quietly.

Breanna is startled at first by a gentle nudge beneath her, but it is only Aeva, who guides the wounded assassin to the safety of the shore where she is seen to by both the druid and Kel’Serrar. Harold and Xander follow them out, dripping wet. The Beast has disappeared.

Maebh starts a small fire and the companions take some time to rest a little and dry out, particularly Breanna, who is still in a fair bit of pain.

“Seven degrees of success on the Heal Check, with Aeva’s aid.” – Sins.
“Seven degrees! Far out, good stuff!” – LD, echoed by the cheers of the rest of the party.
“I did actually optimise Healing from the start guys, remember?” – Sins.
“No, we just remember the poison sumac.” – Ladyhawk.

They take the opportunity to have a quick bite to eat, and to hand out the loot from the chest. Harold gets a large curved dagger of an ancient Invarrian design, the blade of which carries a green sheen. Kel’Serrar takes the five arrowheads, ensorcelled bodkins, and starts fixing them to the shafts he has been crafting in his downtime with some enthusiasm. For Breanna, a keen knife, again glinting with that same greenish sheen as Harold’s dagger and Kel’Serrar’s arrowheads. The necklace is taken by Aeva as she recognises the jewellery’s affiliation with spirit magic, while Maebh takes the rich black cloak. Lastly, Xander takes the gigantic pauldrons.

They resolve to head back out to the previous room and try the other door. Xander takes point, tower-shield first, warhammer clenched in a meaty fist. Harold is next, followed by Aeva, Maebh, fire wreathing her spear and providing light to the companions, and finally Kel’Serrar. Breanna sits on Xander’s shoulder, holding on to his horn with one hand, mini-crossbow in the other.

“I have a turret.” – Yohan.

Xander opens the door and the party troops into the room. Ahead of them lies another expanse of black water, presumably a separate body of water due to the lack of silvery light emanating from it. Kel’Serrar casts his illumination spell once more and the water glows with silvery light, revealing a massive shape under the water, a creature of great size with many limbs.

A few minutes pass where they discuss how they would escape if the temple sinks. They all have a potential way out, save Xander, who they decide would be best served by tanking the water.

Arms burst from the surface of the water and the calm of underground lake is disturbed by an ancient beast rising to the surface. The arms flail at the party.

“Arms or tentacles?” – Delphi.
“Can it be both?”
“Do krakens exist in Norbayne?” – Yohan.
“They do now.”

I basically made the kraken’s attacks play out as an environmental hazard. Simply remaining in the vicinity of the beast would open up the possibility of taking a hit. Characters with high Agility would be relatively safe. Characters with low Agility… Well, we’ll see how that turns out.

Some of the tentacles flailing about are tipped with bony blades, and all the tentacles are coated in some kind of viscous slime. Xander is knocked over by the impact of one of the tentacles, thankfully one of the ones without a bladed tip. Breanna flings herself free before the Feartarbh crashes to the ground, and even manages to retain her grip on her crossbow.

The kraken’s strikes are answered by a golden bolt of lightning which springs forth from Maebh’s outstretched hand. The creature roars in agony and it is smoking and blackened by the powerful arcane strike she delivered upon it. The lightning bolt didn’t kill the kraken, but it really didn’t like it.

From where she sits on the floor, hopefully out of range of the tentacles, Breanna looses a bolt from her hand crossbow, ostensibly at one of the kraken’s eyes. If she hit, it gives no indication.

Kel’Serrar and Aeva both back away from the creature, the former back out the door with an arrow nocked and aimed at the kraken’s body, the latter with spear in hand and spell ready to cast. She then rethinks the situation, and turns into a mouse. And then turns invisible.

“I’ve almost died too many times lately. I’m taking no chances.” – Delphi.

Xander picks himself up and takes an almighty swing at the tentacle which rests nearby after knocking him to the ground. The heavy head of the warhammer pulverises the fleshy appendage, severing the last foot of it. What is still attached to the kraken retreats back, black blood spraying everywhere as the creature trumpets its pain yet again. The severed end of the tentacle spasms on the ground.

Harold meanwhile takes out his boarding axe and hurls it with all his strength into the kraken’s face, figuring that targeting the body would be more likely to cause significant damage than going for the tentacles. It hits home and the beast’s agony intensifies, as does the thrashing of the tentacles, but the Invarrian does not think he caused any lasting damage.

“Ladyhawk, use a telekinesis ability to take my axe out.” – Dev.
“And then use the same ability to put it back in. But harder this time. More deadly.” – Sins.

The tentacles lash out once more and both Harold and Xander decide to try and take the blows head-on. Xander receives the strike on his shield, and his knocked back slightly. Harold meanwhile shears through one of the bladed tentacles, but the severed appendage whips around and tears a rent through his armour and across the Invarrian’s chest, splattering his fur with a corrosive mucous. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the slight sizzling on his chest and neck, Harold continues the fight.

We took a moment to view the Shark-ira video here, which is a gift to humanity.

Breanna, ignoring the pain in her leg, pounces upon one of the tentacles and plunges a knife into the flesh. It jerks away from her, and she faces a split-second decision. Does she let go of the knife and possibly lose it, or does she hold on and let the tentacle take her?

LD failed the Dexterity Check to retain her weapon, but I was feeling nice, so I asked LD for a Strength Check to see if she had the opportunity to hold onto the knife, which she rolled a 00 for.
“So you have two options. You can choose to let go of the knife, or you can-“
“Or you can just strangle the whole kraken with that roll. Your choice.” – Ladyhawk, to great laughter.

In a heartbeat, Breanna decided that while her carving knife has sentimental value, her life has infinitely more, and she lets the blade go.

Wrapping his arrow in magics which ensure it will fly truly, Kel’Serrar steps forward and looses in one smooth motion. The arrow sails across the cavern and punctures the creature’s eye. With a few spasms, its blackened and smoking body flips in the water, belly uppermost, tiny central brain skewered on a grey-fletched arrow.

The ancient kraken of Werencha is dead. Aeva goes into hakal form and retrieves Harold’s axe and Breanna’s knife.

“So the kraken is dead. Sorry guys, that is literally all there was in this room.” – With a laugh.
“See I told you I wanted to opt out of this room.” – Yohan, to Dev, both laughing.

The companions take another few moments to try and take stock. Harold does his best to patch up his rent cuirass, and he and both Breanna and Xander were spattered with corrosive mucous, which they spend a fair bit of time scrubbing out of their fur in the ice-cold water.

Until repaired, Xander and Harold are both operating at -2 to their torso armour values due to the kraken’s acid mucous stuff. I ruled that Xander’s shield and their weapons were unaffected.

Sins again rolled very well to heal, this time to patch up Harold, who took a nasty strike in the battle.
“I noticed that there are no healing spells for the Guardian.” – Yohan, while we’re all getting drinks after a hectic combat.
“Healing spells? What healing spells?” – Sins.
“There are no healing spells.” – Dev.
“Can that be a thing?” – Yohan, curious.
“No.” – Deadpan, just about everyone in the room.
“Is there any kind of magical first aid at all? Like just a wound-closing kind of thing?” – Yohan.
“There is a Talent available to most spell casters, which gives a bonus to Healing Checks which is supposed to represent using their magic to try and help the process.”
“There’s also battlefield cauterising. If you’re bleeding out, I can cause a little bit of damage to stop that bleeding by setting you on fire basically.” – Ladyhawk.
“That sounds like you would make it hurt more than the bleeding.” – Dev.
“Take your medicine Dev.” – Ladyhawk, the stone-cold killer.

After recovering once more, the companions troop back to the room they found Xander in, hoping to find another door. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, they eventually decide to just have Xander make one in the wall directly to the right. Doing so opens up a long hallway, which they walk down until they find a closed wooden door, banded with iron.

Opening this door reveals another long hallway, which Harold starts to walk down before he is stopped by Kel’Serrar.

“Around ten paces ahead there is a snare trap on the floor.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly, with a hand on the Invarrian’s shoulder.

Harold nods his thanks and Kel’Serrar helps to guide everyone carefully over the line. Despite all their searching and magically assisted sight, Maebh and Kel’Serrar cannot determine the purpose, nor function of the trap.

Beyond the trap there is another heavy door, which leads to another long hall which opens out into a room, the stone floor to the left of which falls away into more dark water. Kel’Serrar illuminates this body of water too, revealing a moderately sized doorway approximately eight feet beneath the surface which leads into another cavern.

Unfortunately, Delphi was struggling at this stage, feeling a bit nauseous and unwell, so Aeva pretty much dropped out of the session for this part as Delphi tried to recover for the finale.

“So who is going to go explore?” – Maebh, clearly hoping it won’t be her.

“I would, but there are no spirits here. I am growing weak. I must rest.” – Aeva, who has turned very pale in their time in Werencha. Shaking a visibly weary, she sets herself down on the ground, with the injured Breanna. Xander places his, admittedly musty and dirty cloak over the two of them.

“I will go, for as far as my breath can take me anyway.” – Xander, once again stripping his armour.

And I will leave it here for now…

The Wrap-Up:
This session has taken an absolute age to write up. I am not quite three hours in, and quite a bit of the action of the temple of Werencha hasn’t even occurred yet, but it has taken me around twenty hours of work to try and complete even this small offering.

I was really happy with Yohan’s first session with us. Xander is a really entertaining character and Yohan himself really fits the group well I think.

We’re going to play again this Sunday, so hopefully I can finish Session 5.3 by then. I also hope to have an interlude up by Sunday too.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-11-18, 12:02 PM
Session 5.3 (b): Our Goal Has Been Reached

“Ek njota smidad vid foerad brenna vid inn myrkr, daudr vid inn verdr eda lif vid inn firar Varri.”
- Inscription on the blade of the Gilded Sword of Werencha.

“I was forged to bring light to the darkness, death to the deserving and life to the people of Varr.”
- Harold Oakenshield’s reasonably accurate translation.

We resume with Xander Wrothgar, who is currently walking down a submerged hallway, able to see only by the light of Kel’Serrar’s Starlight spell, which is illuminating the very water Xander is walking through.

Meanwhile, back on the bank, the other companions watch over the Feartarbh and take a well-deserved rest. The harsh conditions are taking their toll, particularly on Aeva.

“So why did your people build an underwater temple?” – Maebh, to Harold.

“It wasn’t always underwater I believe. Plenty of parts of this structure look like the ground was solid rock before whatever event occurred to drive it into this lake.” – Harold.

Xander re-emerges from the water and shares what he found.

“There is an underwater corridor through that archway. The corridor leads back to the kraken room.” – Xander, drying himself off near the fire Maebh quickly conjured.

“How do you know this?” – Harold, likely not thinking clearly due to the heavy hit he sustained earlier.

“I know this on account of the giant kraken corpse still floating in that room.” – Xander, blunt.

“Fair enough.” – Harold, with a slight smile.

“Unfortunately that was as far as I dared to go. I was running out of air fast.” – Xander, strapping on his armour and then helping Breanna up onto his shoulder once more.

“I think I may have some strength left.” – Aeva, getting to her feet.

“If you intend to go scouting we can’t have you getting hit.” – Kel’Serrar, laying an invisibility enchantment upon the Selkye.

Aeva:
Now invisible, the sick druid slips into the water as a hakal and with a slight splash and a ripple, is gone, visible only as a faint grey shadow in the light of Kel’Serrar’s illumination spell.

She swims down the corridor and comes to the corpse of the kraken, where she makes a promising discovery. Hidden away in an underwater alcove under the shore where they fought the kraken not that long ago, is a tunnel, which leads down into the darkness.

Having found a potential way forward, Aeva goes back to her companions and informs them of the tunnel. They resolve to meet in the kraken room and Aeva sets out underwater again, this time to scout out her newly found tunnel.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the still water any more than necessary, Aeva/Hakal swims through the black tunnel, using the echolocation of the hakal to try and guide her way, hoping that anything in the area will not be able to pick up the high-frequency sounds.

She emerges from the tunnel in yet another submerged hallway, but this time she is not alone. Judging by the faint shape she can make out in the water, it seems to be one of the Beasts themselves. Thankfully, it does not seem to have noticed her presence yet. As quietly as she can, Aeva tries to turn and head back to the kraken room.

She is not careful enough.

The Beast launches into action, unable to see her, but able to feel the disturbances in the water and just sense her presence. The talons of the Beast manage to catch a glancing blow on Aeva/Hakal’s tail as she swims, but it doesn’t manage to get a good hold of her. It does however keep pace with her as she swims at full pelt back up the submerged tunnel towards the kraken room.

Aeva practically flies out of the water and beaches herself on the bank, which immediately puts the companions on alert. They can only see her as a very vague outline, but they hear the splashing and shuffling as she tries to pull herself up onto land. The water is still illuminated by Kel’Serrar’s earlier spell, and it reveals the shape of the Beast well under the surface.

Kel’Serrar and Maebh stand ready as Aeva turns back to her natural form and tries to pin the Beast in place with a magic snare. She succeeds, and the creature is unable to keep swimming. It drops like a rock to the very bottom of the underground lake.

Harold grabs a spear and tosses it to Xander before taking another for himself and the two of them stand on the very edge of the bank, ready to stab anything that comes to the surface.

Breanna meanwhile, ignoring the fact that losing control of a daemonic entity while receiving a piggyback ride would be quite unfair to her steed, tries to fling an aethyric dart at the Beast, but is unable to hold the power together long enough to coalesce it into a dart.

Aeva feels a straining in her mind, and then a sharp pain as the Beast breaks free of her trap with a surge of will. It knows there is a powerful caster among the companions, and can sense that Maebh is the most powerful of them, and so it tries to sink some insidious tendrils into Maebh’s mind. The Danann shrugs it off with some effort, but is quite scared by the ancient and otherworldly power which just brushed against her consciousness.

While this is happening, Breanna manages to fling a dart down into the silvery depths, but the magical attack has no real effect on the Beast. Xander and Harold look at each other and dive straight in, spears outstretched. Together, they pin the beast on the polearms.

Between the two of them they rolled 72 Damage on it, before Toughness reduction though.

They bring the skewered corpse back up the surface, and again set about trying to dry off and warm up around Maebh’s conjured fire. They study the corpse for a small while, noting the massive black eyes, razor-sharp talons and the sandpaper-like grey skin. Repulsed, they throw the corpse back into the water.

Aeva heads back to the corridor she encountered the Beast in. There are two heavy doors which seem to be holding the water in this room. Aeva picks one at random and bashes it down with her snout, which causes the water to drain out all over the floor of the room it reveals. She sends a Whisper back to the other companions.

“I am safe. Go back to the room we found Xander in, and then head through the southern door. Follow the water.” – Aeva’s Whisper.

In the far right corner of the room is another dark cavern, filled with black, salt water. The cavern leads downwards into a tunnel, and the companions strip off most of their armour and their outer clothing. So far they’ve done their best to try and stay out of the water as much as they can, but now they all need to swim to go any further.

Breanna checks over her books, and is both surprised and glad to see they survived her earlier submersion. They all leave the majority of their weapons behind, putting their faith in unencumbered speed.

“Xander, can you lock this door behind us?” – Harold, not realising that there’s an exactly 50% chance this could go horribly wrong.

“Yeah sure.” – Xander, thankfully choosing the lock he carries a key to.

Having left a lot of their gear behind, the companions dive into the black tunnel.

* * *

They emerge after some underwater twists and turns, into a rocky tunnel. It is completely without light, until Kel’Serrar uses his power to conjure a faint silvery light everywhere. The floor of a stretch of the tunnel ahead is covered in water, which they traverse as quickly as they can, Breanna still using Xander as her own personal steed.

There are two passageways on the other side of the watery section.

“Which way are we going?” – Maebh, after they have crossed the stretch of water.

“Left. Always go left. If you always go left then you can just default right out. Doesn’t always work, but it is a reasonable bet.” – Xander, sharing his wisdom.

“We could possibly split up?” – Aeva, weakly. The swim seems to have sapped the last of her strength, and she leans very heavily on her spear, skin pale.

“No. Several of us are wounded already. Let’s not do that.” – Kel’Serrar, testing the edge of his dagger.

They move forward, Xander first with his claymore, Breanna on his shoulder with knives ready. Kel’Serrar with his longsword and dagger is next, and crucially his Ring of True-Sight which they want right up at the front of the party. Following him is Maebh, with Aeva/Mouse safely in her pocket and last is Harold, two swords in hand. They figure that if anything sneaks up on them, better that Harold is there than one of Maebh or Kel’Serrar.

In this formation the companions follow the tunnel, which winds ever so slightly down. Several parts are quite narrow, which is hard enough for Harold, let alone Xander. Luckily they had already left their bulkiest equipment back in the main part of the temple, and so they are not hampered by their gear.

Finally, they arrive at a massive double door, made of a dark iron. Whatever the material is, it looks similar to the material used to forge the statue of the Beast Under The Waves which they encountered earlier.

Upon the door is a carven scene depicting a great flood and destruction being wreaked upon the world. Engraved in the iron above the door is the following inscription in Ancient Invarrian.



Inn firar er bella vid vada sasi dyrr munu falla, nema inn firar eiga inn megin vid heimtamt vid Marglodmaegir. Gaetinn vid Shakarli. Gaetinn vid Hossaevargangr…

“Those who dare to pass through this doorway will be slain, unless they possess the strength to claim the Gilded Sword. Beware the Devourer. Beware the __________.”

After taking some quick notes to keep the inscription for posterity, Harold nods to the others and opens the doors. A room is revealed before them. To the left is yet another stretch of dark water, presumably a waterway which leads to another section of this gigantic complex. To the right lies a massive shrine, crafted from the same dark iron metal that these creatures seem to favour. It depicts almost a hundred statues of the Beasts Under the Waves, which seem to be engaged in some kind of rite, or perhaps combat.

But it is the denizens which were kneeling in front of the shrine, which now stand and produce all manner of rusted and corroded bladed instruments of death, which command the attention of the companions.

These people were once Invarrians, pilgrims of the same kind which the companions faced and defeated earlier, but these look as if they have been down in the depths for far too long. They have been blessed, in their fashion, by the Beasts they have taken as their gods, and have been remade to suit the world the Beasts wish to bring into being.

These pilgrims have almost all lost their fur, but are covered in skin similar to that of the Beasts’ themselves, like grey razorblades. Their heads are great fanged maws, like those of sharks, with teeth like serrated knives. Their fingers are webbed.

But it is the eyes which are most disconcerting, black and lifeless.

“The Invarrians are the dog-people right?” – Yohan.
“Yo.” – Dev, in acknowledgement.
“Yes. Dev’s people.”
“Dude, your people are ****ed up.” – Yohan, to Dev.
“Aye, at the moment, yes, they are.” – Dev.
“So does that mean these things are dogfish?” – Sins.

Silently, the dozen mutated creatures stalk towards their new prey.

“Can I try a Charm Check?” – Dev.
Collective groans and a few facedesks.
“Ah, yeah sure. For everyone who wants to rely on Dev’s Charm attempt, feel free to skip Initiative.”
Everyone, including Dev, rolls Initiative.

I’m all for them trying to talk their way out of situations, but, well, does anyone honestly think that a shark can be reasoned with?

“I understand that you probably want to kill us all, but can we perhaps try to discuss just what is happening here?” – Harold, swords held before him in a tentative guard.

The lead mutant lets out a bestial hissing sound and charges Harold, axe raised.

“You get the feeling that they didn’t even understand you.”
“That’s a solid feeling right there. I can understand why you would feel that way.” – Yohan.

Kel’Serrar surprisingly springs forward with his longsword in hand, striking at the lead mutant, but the blow is deftly parried by his chosen target, the ranger’s lack of experience with the melee weapon evident.

Maebh looses a ferocious gout of flames from her outstretched hands, which incinerates two of the mutants where they stand, and causes another two to recoil in instinctive fear of the fire. Taking advantage of the confusion, Harold springs forward into their midst, blades flashing. Unfortunately, these are quite formidable opponents, and Harold is only able to fell one of them, one of his blades severing the horrific creature’s head.

Xander pushes his way forward, and a golden orb of energy springs into being around him, which grants some protection to his allies.

Xander pulled off a Shield of Courage, which grants armour bonuses to all allies within a certain radius. It is one of the highest casting value Guardian spells in the game.

The Feartarbh immediately draws the attention of four of the beasts, and the hulking warrior trusts to his inherent toughness to weather the two strikes which hit him.

Even without armour as he is, with Shield of Courage Xander negates 15 Damage from every strike. Against many enemies, with his plate armour this makes him almost untouchable. But then, this happened.

*rolls Damage*
“Okay. Exploding dice.”
*rolls Damage again*
“Okay…”
*rolls Damage again*
“Okay!”
*rolls Damage again*
“Right, sorry Yohan, that’s 40 Damage on you…”
“That puts me at… Just below half health. That’s bull****.” – Yohan, laughing.

If that strike had hit anyone else in the party, even a fully armoured Harold, they would be dead, probably at least twice over. But Xander is a truly ungodly tank.

Unfortunately, Xander either forgot he had left his armour behind, or underestimated the savage ferocity of his opponent, because one of the mutants cleaves an axe straight into the Feartarbh’s side and then rips a ragged chunk of flesh loose from his shoulder with a ripping bite.

“Hold on LD, I’m going to Frenzy.” – Yohan.
“Oh ****.” – LD.
“You’re not even going to try and restrain it?”
“Well I can roll, but I won’t be able to stop it.”
*Yohan rolls his Willpower Check*
“Yeah, that’s a 90.” – Sins.
“I’m bracing myself.” – LD, laughing.
“I should probably look at getting her a saddle or something.” – Yohan, hopefully joking.

“Hold on Breean-AAAAAAARRRRGHH!” – Xander, as he goes into a blood-rage.

The Leathe manages to not only hold on to the giant Feartarbh’s horns, but is actually almost looking forward to the ride, as Xander goes fully on the offensive.

“Awww yiss. I’ll call out occasional directions to you.” – LD, to Yohan.

One mutant strikes at Kel’Serrar, but the ranger is surprisingly able to parry the blow.

“This is up there with the weirdest sessions we have ever had.” – LD.
“You think? I’m not sure. The murder mystery in Urik’s Landing was just, ‘what the **** man?’ the whole way through.” – Dev.
“Yeah that one and then Bat-**** Insanity were the two weirdest ones before, but this one is up there I reckon.” – LD.
“This one overtook them as soon as I started making melee attacks.” – Sins, to general laughter.

Back in a moment. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2016-11-18, 12:04 PM
And we have returned once more. :smallbiggrin:

Harold takes a glancing blow from a mutant’s knife as three of the creatures converge on him, but the duellist’s speed and skill is able to keep him safe. Kel’Serrar backs off slightly behind the Invarrian, his initial burst of optimism ruined by his abject inability to cause any damage in close combat. Maebh readies an action just in case the mutants overcome their fear of fire and try to engage her.

And then Xander cleaves into the mutants with his claymore, splitting one completely down the middle with an earth-shaking roar.

“Can I roll to Intimidate the rest of them?” – Yohan.
“Yeah sure. If you’re using the whole splitting an enemy in half, then the roll is keyed off your Strength, with any Intimidation modifiers you might have.”
“Does that include the bonus to Strength that Rage gives me?” – Yohan, questioning.
“Yes of course.”
“Right, so with Rage, my Strength is actually 105 at the moment. So my Intimidate roll just needs to be under 130.” – Yohan.
“Holy ****!” – Just about everyone.

The three mutants still on Xander back off, respecting his prowess and sheer strength. Two of them move towards Harold, while the third attempts to engage Kel’Serrar. One of them lands another glancing hit on Harold, but does not cause any significant damage. Kel’Serrar, now facing two of the mutants decides to fight as defensively as he can.

“Maebh, help, please!” – Kel’Serrar, desperately ducking and weaving.

The mage releases another gout of amber flames, washing over the mutants attacking Kel’Serrar, immolating both of them. Half of the horrific creatures have been felled now. Only six remain, and four of them have Harold surrounded. The other two are stalking Maebh and Kel’Serrar, trying to avoid both the mage’s golden flames and the enraged Feartarbh in the middle of the conflict.

Caught up in the whirling of blades, Harold puts a mutant down and causes a serious injury to another, simultaneously avoiding all their return blows. He is soon joined by the roaring Xander, who charges in claymore first. Yet another mutant falls under the warrior’s blade and the Feartarbh’s charge carries him into the one Harold injured earlier.

“So Strength Check to knock him Prone thanks to Smite.”
“What’s your Strength again?” – Ladyhawk.
“Yeah, 105 at the moment. *rolls* And that’s a 05 on dice.” – Yohan.
“Right, ten degrees of success… That is obscene.”

The mutant pilgrim literally goes flying, pulverised by Xander’s attack. He smashes heavily into the stone wall on the other side of the room and crumples to the floor, undoubtedly dead. From her vantage point on Xander’s shoulder, Breanna throws a dagger into the throat of one of the mutants stalking Maebh and Kel’Serrar, who both gang up on the other one and put it down with spear and sword.

The last mutant is despatched by Harold’s blade, and silence falls on the room once more, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of the combatants and the last little spasms from the butchered mutants.

Xander falls to his knees, the red-rage leaving his eyes as the extent of the damage done to him becomes apparent. He is seen to immediately by Kel’Serrar, who pronounces that the giant warrior will live, and applies what bandaging he can.

The companions take a little time to study the statues before them, which show no signs of movement, though the angle of the carven waves gives an illusion that they may be crashing over the scene. Of the statues of the Beasts themselves, their eyes glint with a ruby gleam and they appear to be locked in some kind of internecine war.

Harold takes a few moments and tries to pry out the ruby eyes of one of the statues with his dagger, but doesn’t get anywhere.

On the other side of the room is yet another dark underground lake, and once again Kel’Serrar exercises his power and illuminates it, revealing a large archway, again submerged. Together, the companions dive in, and eventually emerge in a round room, most of which is submerged. There is a small section of stone floor, and right on the edge of the floor and the water, stands a tall podium, roughly hewn from the rock, and within which, embedded almost to the hilt, is an ancient blade.

“In true Arthurian fashion, a sword in the stone which apparently can only be drawn by the worthy.”

The companions get up onto the stone floor and then stand there, observing the blade with wariness. To those who can see such things, the blade is fantastically magical and almost seems to exist in multiple realities at once.

“So, who is worthy?” – Kel’Serrar.

“Honestly, probably Harold. I’d be concerned about whatever power might be watching over this temple knowing if someone other than an Invarrian touched the sword. Harold’s our best chance I think.” – Xander, which the others agree with.

“So what happens if, say, the temple starts coming down around us if we take it?” – Maebh, concerned.

“Right, so here’s the plan. You all head out, except you Maebh. We’ll give you around ten minutes headstart before I try to take the sword. If the temple starts falling apart, you’ll at least have a reasonable chance of making it out alive. If it doesn’t, we’ll meet in the entrance room. If the sword won’t release itself, Maebh can send you all a Whisper and you can come back and we can try someone else.” – Harold, coming up with a very reasonable plan.

They agree and the party troop out, save for Harold and Maebh, who hands the sleeping Aeva/Mouse over to Kel’Serrar before they leave. The minutes pass with agonising slowness until eventually Harold and Maebh decide it is time.

The Invarrian approaches the podium carefully, and gently, reverently, grasps the hilt. He pulls, again gently at first, but then harder until he is straining with all his might, until finally, the blade shifts and he draws it out, revealing a gleaming golden blade, impossibly sharp and etched with runes in Ancient Invarrian.

There is a sound like distant grinding and Harold and Maebh immediately dive back into the water and swim for their lives. They race past the statue-shrine, ignoring the alluring glint of ruby eyes. When they reach the camp the companions had set up before, they discover that the others had already grabbed their gear, and so they do not stop running and swimming as fast as they can.

Finally they round a corner and see their companions standing in the entrance room, warming themselves around a fire Kel’Serrar managed to light using scrounged up axe-hafts from defeated pilgrims. They are all rugged up, and Aeva is almost being force-fed soup in an attempt to try and help her recover from her ordeal.

“Did you not hear that grinding sound?” – Maebh, as Harold grabs a spare bit of oilcloth and wraps up their newly acquired ancient relic.

“No, we didn’t. Doesn’t look like the place is coming down around our ears though. Want some soup?” – Breanna, replying to Maebh, with a bowl of piping hot soup in hand.

* * *

The companions make their way to The Tide Tremor, which is somewhat surprisingly, still in good shape and unpillaged, moored on the eastern coast. Xander resolves to join them after hearing of how the Devourer is not just a local problem, but a potentially world-ending one. He and Breanna strike up quite a close friendship, but with that said, Breanna just about gets on with everyone.

“So the Prophecy of the Three Coins right, the prophecy I was sent to Norbayne to properly investigate to begin with? You know how the theory is that we are the ones who carry the Three Coins?” – Harold, sitting the group down to have a quick chat in the captain’s cabin. A world map lies on the table before them.

“Actually no. Breanna told me a little about it, but she didn’t tell me everything.” – Xander.

“When birds clash in fields of Summer, the struggle will be resolved by those who dare wield the Gilded Sword.” – Harold, reciting from memory.

“Birds clashing in fields of summer must be the conflict between Elspeth and Naille around Summer Hill. The eagle and the robin, or whatever the Naillish sigil is.” – Kel’Serrar.

”Artefacts they shall possess, three in number and forged into vicious circles, coins of an ancient and powerful currency, an eternal link to the Aethyr. Only those of the utmost strength and the purest of intentions will bend the true power of the coins to their will, and they shall do so, bringing fire and death to the lands of the Queen of Eagles.” Now if we are the bearers of the Three Coins, then we’re supposed to bring fire and death to the lands of the Queen of Eagles, presumably Elspeth, which suggests to me that she might be quite involved in all this business. - Harold, offering his own interpretation.

“Seeing as that is where the coins themselves are from, seems like a good bet.” – Maebh.

“We don’t know the coins are from Elspeth, do we?” – Harold, questioning.

“Not really, but we do know that Brewer was working for Elspeth, and had occult connections there. There is a good chance the coins were a gift from someone of Elspeth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were from the Queen herself. She’d have the resources to at least procure artefacts like these coins and would probably be better served by lending them to someone who could use their power in enemy territory than try to use them herself.” – Kel’Serrar, delivering his own well thought-out theory.

“The wielders of the ancient artefacts will be heralded by the demise of the Lord of Wolves, who will rise again before the end, the Bastard King, cursed to hold power for but a short while and the Storm’s Scourge, lord of the waters, yet undone by them.” – Harold again.

“Well I put the Lord of Wolves down.” – Breanna, smug.

“Yes, but according to prophecy he’s getting straight back up again by the sound of it.” – Kel’Serrar.

“The Bastard King was probably Tremor.” – Aeva, quietly.

“And the Storm’s Scourge, I reckon was the Stormlord of Varr. Lord of the waters, yet undone by them? Fits a reaver-king who drowned in sea-water.” – Harold, darkly.

“So the Wolf King may not be completely dead… Do we go back to Dreven and try to put him down properly?” – Kel’Serrar.

“I don’t know about that. I’m concerned about Elspeth. I think we might be running late on the fire and death in Elspeth. I fear that they’re much closer to their goal than we realise.” – Maebh, worried.

”If fail these companions do, death will reign in all the lands and the Devourer will come forth to reap its harvest. If success they can achieve, the Devourer’s reaping will be postponed for two-score, four score or fifteen-score years, but one cannot halt destiny forever. Thrice before has the Devourer been defeated, but it is ever poised to swing the Scythe of Doom and unleash the Greyflood.” – Harold, finishing his recitation.

“Scythe of Doom sounds quite… Problematic. Let’s go with problematic.” – Xander, quietly.

“On the plus side, if we succeed, we put their plans back by at least two-score years. There’s a good chance that if we do this, we may not ever need to worry about it again in our lifetimes.” – Breanna, not realising that Maebh and Kel’Serrar at least probably still have quite a long life ahead of them.

“First things first though, let’s just try and stop them.” – Harold, rolling up his map.

"Now I know we are on a time limit, but if we are up against the end of the world, then I really need to try and find my family. Harold and I heard rumours when we were in Nordtarnet that they were in Southreach. My mother is a Seer herself. She might be able to help us." - Aeva, hoping to convince her companions to come with her.

"Aye, family is important. I would like to go and talk to Helga myself before we leave. Shall we got to Ravnsalm and then Southreach?" - Harold, putting it to the rest of the party.

"Family is everything. Yes, we go to Ravnsalm to ensure Helga's safety, and then we find your family." - Breanna, solemnly and turning to Aeva.

Maebh and Kel'Serrar silently nod their agreement.

"I owe you all my life. Amongst my people, this means a great deal. I will follow you, wherever you may go, until you release me, or death takes me." - Xander, hand over his heart.

The companions look slightly awkward.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
This session was a pain in the arse to write up. Most of the writing in Part A was actually documenting only 20 minutes of gameplay. All in all, these two write-ups took me approximately thirty hours to write, which is really not an efficient use of my time. :P

We have a session on Sunday, which should be fun. We are pretty sure at this stage that everyone is going to make it. I will be very disappointed if this is not the case.

We also have an interlude, or we might do, which was supposed to cover what everyone wanted to do on the voyage from Varr back to Norbayne. I also haven’t gotten a definite on just where they are going, which has made trying to prep for the session an absolute nightmare.

We shall have to see.

I hope this was enjoyable. As always, please comment on here if you enjoyed reading it or have any questions.

Thanks for reading,
Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-12-13, 09:36 AM
Just another quick update everyone.

At the moment I am three sessions behind on write-ups, but I have almost finished the conclusion of Arc 5. The table of contents in the OP contains some information on what is coming soon. I will hopefully have all the write ups done by Christmas, which will be a nice gift of sorts.

If anyone is interested, I can post the current character sheets as well. I also need to remember to scan and upload the maps. :smalltongue:

We have something like three more sessions to play before 3 Coins finishes forever, but we will see.

Cheers, and see you soon. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2016-12-14, 02:18 AM
Session 5.4: The Vaults of Ravnsalm

“It would appear that there was a lost way of fighting in the fall of the Bovus Empire. Set on the shoulders of the greatest Legionnaires, Leathe auxiliaries from the Wardenfells could strike at the foes of the Bovus from an elevated position, or even weave magics from the safety of their companions’ shoulders. Specialised saddles were apparently crafted for this very purpose, but none seem to have survived to the present day…”
- From the works of Eohelm Byre-Wulfric, Lord Historian of Araecan.

"Welcome to Session 5.4."

"You actually have maps today!" - Dev, excitedly.
"Yes, I actually have maps."
"Not like in the write-ups. I was reading them last night and Sins asked me if I had seen the maps, which of course I hadn't. So I clicked the spoiler, and boop! INSERT MAP HERE." - Yohan, disappointed.
"The INSERT MAP HERE piece is without a doubt Norbayne's most common artwork."

With that said:
INSERT MAP HERE

It takes the better part of a week for the Tide Tremor to make it to the safety of Ravnsalm. Thankfully for the companions, they do not encounter any of the Beasts From Under the Waves, nor are they attacked on their voyage at all. Finally, after days of sailing, they are approaching the port of Ravnsalm, late in the afternoon.

In the distance, three Invarrian longships, moving very quickly and flying the banners of the Oakenshields. They hail from Ravnsalm, and it doesn't take long before they are within shouting distance.

"Who are you? State your purpose here!" - Captain of the lead longship.

"I am Harold Oakenshield and these are my companions! I wish to go home and talk with my sister!" - Harold, shouting back.

"We will escort you to the shore! I am sorry Lord Oakenshield, but we are under orders to question anyone who approaches!" - Captain Ironhull, who then gives orders to his crew to head back to shore.

The companions, aboard the Tide Tremor, follow the longships, wary of the welcome they may be about to receive.

* * *

Ravnsalm looks a bit different from the way it did last time they were there. A very light snow falls upon the town, muffling footsteps and the sounds of town-life. They disembark at the northern docks and make their way through the lower market and to the Winding Path, the narrow road which climbs the sheer cliff between the port, the lower market and the town of Ravnsalm proper. The market is a sad sight, a far cry from the vibrant, bustling place it was almost a month ago. A handful of vendors still try, vainly to hawk their wares, but no trading ships are being let into the harbour, and so most merchants have simply given up. Almost a hundred stalls lie broken and abandoned.

Upon reaching the top of the cliff they see the craftsmen's district to the north, which is just about the most active part of the town. The clamour of hammer on anvil rings throughout Ravnsalm as the populace prepares for civil war.

"What is it?" - As Yohan starts laughing to himself.
"It's just that when you asked us all what we wanted to buy in the interlude, I finally thought of something. A saddle for Breanna." - Yohan, to general laughter.
"I am running off around three hours of sleep. This will probably keep happening." - Yohan.

"Why is everyone leaving?" - Xander, turning to Harold as they walk along the road in the centre of Ravnsalm.

"I've been denounced as a traitor and a heretic." - Harold, quietly.

"So no one wants to be under your rule? That's understandable." - Yohan.
"Well my sister actually rules the town, not me." - Dev.
"Yeah, but family names are easily tainted when your brother is a dangerous traitor." - Yohan.
"Basically, Harold is divisive and Helga's a bit of a ****-stirrer."
"Awesome, I love this town already." - Yohan, sarcastic.

Xander approaches one of the merchants, a fruit-seller, who is loading most of his goods onto a small wagon.

"Hello there. Why are you leaving friend?" - Xander, handing over some small-change for fruit.

"Our lord, Helga Oakenshield has, in her wisdom, declared that Ravnsalm is a safe place for people to come and escape the drownings." - Fruit-seller, irritated at this turn of events.

"So why would you wish to leave?" - Xander, taking the fruit he purchased.

"It's made this whole town a target, hasn't it? Brigands to the east are killing anyone who tries to bring food in to the town and burning the outlying hamlets. Hells, they've been bold enough to actually raid the town itself. We're slowly starving to death, and what's more, the drownings themselves are starting to occur even here. As much as Helga may wish it to be so, the town is no safer than the hamlets, and it is only going to get worse." - Fruit-seller, saddened.

"Surely a sanctuary like this is still safer than on the road?" - Xander, finishing his fruit.

"This is no sanctuary. It's a tomb, and I would prefer to take my chances in a large group with the brigands than stay here any longer. Half the guard plans to join us, so we will have just as much protection on the road as here in the town." - Fruit-seller, who bids Xander farewell.

The companions continue upon the road before coming up to the main gate of Herregard, the fortified keep on the northern edge of Ravnsalm, seat of the Oakenshield family. At the gate stands Helga Oakenshield, fully armed and armoured, with an expression of great displeasure upon her face.

"Tell me you didn't kill them." - Helga, her voice breaking with sorrow.

"I did not. I ended Windchaser up in Stillhet, but if you are speaking of Bjarn and Hosker, no, it was not me." - Harold, solemnly.

"I had to ask. The rumours coming from Isenhjem, I just... I had to ask." - Helga, distressed.

"It's okay sister. We will avenge him. Hosker will not have died in vain." - Harold, embracing his sister.

She returns the hug and then shakes her head.

"Please, come inside all of you and we will see to your clothing. You smell awful brother." - Helga, with a sad smile.

"Hey, we've been fighting ancient underwater beasts in their own territory and we're most of us wounded. There's a reason we smell." - Harold, gently laughing.

"Please, come on in and get yourselves cleaned up. After that, lunch and then we will discuss your next move." - Helga.

The companions follow Helga inside and are shown to rooms for their personal use. Baths are drawn and they find warm, comfortable clothing laid out on the beds when they return to their rooms. The fact that the clothes fit quite well for all shapes and sizes is simply part of the beauty of a raiding culture, which takes everything which might have some value.

After cleaning themselves up, they join Helga for an impromptu luncheon.

"I have gifts for all of you. First, I will open the Oakenshield family vaults to you. Centuries of takings have been stored in there, and you are free to take from that what you will. Secondly, I have for all of you letters of receipt, entitling you to a share each in the Oakenshield Trading Company. My personal thanks for keeping my brother safe and for doing what you can to help my home." - Helga, ushering forward the servant bearing the letters.

The companions receive the letters with varying degrees of gratitude.

"So these letters won't really help you out in the campaign as such, but it is a nice reward for your epilogue and life after the campaign finishes for your characters."
"Aww, neat." - LD.

"So, Harold, you found the Sword? May I see it?" - Helga, anxious.

Harold withdraws the blade and hands it, with great reverence, to his sister, who inspects the ancient craftsmanship and the inscription upon the blade.

"I do have a question for you, if you wouldn't mind." - Helga, handing the sword back to her brother.

"As you know, I have made it common knowledge that I consider Ravnsalm to be a safe haven from the encroachment of this cult, or whatever the hell these drownings are. However, this has led to quite a few events I am starting to believe, as is much of the populace, are repercussions. My question is thus: Should I continue admitting people and openly declare Ravnsalm against this business, or should I shut the gates now and try to prevent anyone from coming in, keeping everyone here already as safe as I can?” – Helga, deeply troubled.

“These cults are powerful sister, and are growing more so by the day. We cannot stay either, we have business to attend to, both personal matters and ones which pertain to the prophecy.” – Harold, grim.

“Essentially if things go downhill here, we won’t be able to save you. You would be on your own.” – Aeva.

“Especially since half the guard looks like deserting to go with all the merchants who want out of here. You’ll be very much defenceless.” – Xander, applying his recently acquired knowledge.

Helga nods to the Feartarbh. She already knows of the plan among the guards.

“Lock yourselves in, choose carefully those you trust.” – Kel’Serrar, looking surreptitiously around the room. After all, they don’t know who may be listening.

“I shall keep Ravnsalm secluded then. I cannot seem to prevent the party who wish to leave from going, but I would not see them murdered on the road. If I could ask one more favour from you all…” – Helga, sadly.

“Bandits?” – Harold.

“Indeed. Brigands in the wilderness to the north. They’re raiding, pillaging, killing. Preying on farmers. Picking off any merchants we try to send out to trade for food. I also cannot afford to send any guards out. I have no idea when we might be attacked again.” – Helga, sadly.

“Do not worry, we will take care of them for you.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly.

Helga nods her head in gratitude and makes to stand, but then remembers something.

“Oh yes, did you ever find Reinn?” – Helga, questioning.

“We did. We found him. He believes himself an immortal, uh, being… You know how Stillhet was considered to be inhabited by fey or something? I can confirm that. It’s a ****storm. We may need to get priests or druids or shamans or something over there...” – Harold, petering out.

“So you found him, yes?” – Helga, confused.

“Yeah we did, but, well, he, uh, how do I put this?” – Harold, uncomfortable.

“He ran away I guess.” – Breanna.

“Vanished might be a better term for it.” – Kel’Serrar.

“The heir… vanished?” – Helga, astounded.

“Ah, yeah. He didn’t really want to be the Stormlord anyway. He believed himself too dangerous for the role.” – Harold.

“Yep. Ran off into the wilderness or some ****.” – Breanna, to Helga’s astonished expression.

“Hey look, this whole trip has hardly been a great time for me personally.” – Harold, quietly laughing.

Helga gives the companions directions to the Oakenshield family vault, and a key to get inside.

“Would a locked door actually be any kind of deterrent to any of us at this stage?” – Sins.

The general consensus is in fact, no, but Helga would like to keep her door intact.

Upon reaching the vaults, they open the doors and uncover several rooms of cluttered junk. Plenty of it has already been picked over by Helga when she needed to outfit her militia, but there are still many, many pieces left behind.

I told them they could ask for anything at all and I would roll to determine whether it was there. Yohan went first and asked for a shoulder-mounted saddle for Breanna’s use. I rolled very low, and lo and behold…

Xander searches for only a few moments before he discovers the saddle of his dreams, chocolate brown and crafted from the finest Northland leather, it is clearly intended for some usage other than a common steed. He takes it eagerly and happily leaves the vaults, taking Harold’s armour with him to get it repaired.

In the end they get the following items:
- Breanna: A hoard of crossbow bolts and finely tooled leather vambraces.
- Xander: The saddle.
- Aeva: Claws made of electrum, engraved with Runes of Rending.
- Kel’Serrar: Reinforced leather jerkin.
Due to the players talking about bacon, eggs, potatoes and vitamin C, I cannot figure out what else they got. They did get two enchanted rings with unidentified effects and Maebh picked up some kind of improved armour.

* * *

It is early evening when Kel’Serrar points out a disturbance in the woodland to their right. They have been on the road for a good few hours now and the weak sun is slowly sinking under the horizon. Xander and Harold have point, with Breanna and Aeva/Hawk sitting on the Feartarbh’s shoulders. Maebh and Kel’Serrar walk behind them, eyes darting around looking for any sign of the brigands.

“There are Invarrians in the undergrowth over there to the right.” – Kel’Serrar, who immediately cloaks himself in invisibility.

Eight arrows fly through the air towards the companions, from both the left and right hand sides of the road. Thanks to Kel’Serrar’s quick warning, Xander is able to get his shield in between three of the incoming arrows and the party. One arrow punches into Harold’s shoulder, barely penetrating the plate of his cuirass.

Aeva flutters into the air, barely avoiding two more arrows which flash over Xander’s shoulder.
“I’m a pretty bird.” – Delphi, laughing.

Maebh’s eyes glow gold and the sky overhead grows swiftly darker. Thunder cracks above and rain starts to sheet down, making archery even more difficult than the already failing light did. Despite this, Breanna takes her crossbow and looses a bolt at random into the bushes to the right of the road, aiming roughly for where the arrows came from. To her delight she hears a strangled yelp from someone she hit. Giggling a little to herself, she reloads the weapon. Maebh takes note of this, and resolves to send some lightning in there the first chance she gets.

Kel’Serrar, invisible, makes his way stealthily through the undergrowth and uncovers a group of four Invarrians with longbows in hand. Two of them are wearing chain, which immediately makes him think they are too well equipped for mere bandits.

On the road, a band of seven Invarrian brigands, armed with a mix of spears, axes and shields charge out ahead, angling for Xander and Harold. There is a particularly large Invarrian at the front, armed with a broadsword and a massive roundshield. Even in the deepening shadows of the overcast evening and the steadily increasing rainfall, Harold recognises the man as his own cousin, Dagor. One of the brigands hurls a broad-bladed spear at Xander and the hulking Feartarbh turns it aside with a deft movement of his shield.

“Dagor, you traitorous bastard!” – Harold, drawing blades and charging towards his cousin.

“Harold! I missed you cousin.” – Dagor, taking his sword in his shield-hand and drawing an axe from his belt, which he hurls with all his might. The heavy weapon sails far wide.

“You certainly did. Your aim has not improved!” – Harold, mockingly.

Xander concentrates for a moment and a golden orb of energy blazes to life around him, matching ones doing the same for Maebh and Harold. The Feartarbh, shield still covering Breanna as much as it is him, keeps pace with the furious Invarrian beside him.

Above, Aeva/Hawk flies over the group to the left of the road, and unbeknownst to her, over the invisible Kel’Serrar. She alights on an overhanging tree-branch and prepares to unleash some kind of clawed assault on them.

Maebh, following Xander and Harold into combat, raises her hands and with a great cry causes a wall of sheer force to smash into the majority of the brigands. Five of them are blasted backwards and left broken on the ground some yards away. Golden lightning flashes down from the skies above, immolating three archers on the right-hand side of the road and one on the left.

Harold bashes Dagor’s shield to the side and thrusts a blade into his cousin’s chest. Dagor roars in pain and swings wildly in return, which Harold deftly deflects. Xander moves up beside the duelling pair, ready to support Harold if necessary. Breanna draws a knife and flings herself onto the surviving raider, tackling him to the ground and repeatedly stabbing the little blade into his throat. She then sits on the corpse and pulls out a peach to munch on as she observes the remainder of the combat.

Kel’Serrar, still concealed and invisible in the treeline, spies Dagor and Harold duelling and decides to play some part in this. Weaving some malicious magic together, he sends the tendrils of confusing magic deep into the brigand leader’s mind.

Dagor immediately drops his blade on the ground.

“I have defeated you cousin. You should have realised there was no way you could have defeated me!” – Dagor, fully caught within Kel’Serrar’s Cruel Disappointment spell.

Confused by this turn of events, Harold’s blow stops a mere hair-breadth from Dagor’s throat.

Aeva takes the shape of a dagger-lion and springs from her vantage point above the archers, crushing one instantly and sinking her sword-like fangs deep into another’s neck. The last archer there looses an arrow at the gigantic predator, but the arrow flies way wide. He curses and runs, but Aeva/Lion is far swifter.

The last archer, on the other side of the road, takes aim at Maebh, but he is obviously distracted by the fact that his three compatriots around him were all spontaneously immolated just seconds before. The arrow does not trouble the mage in the slightest. She responds with yet another lightning bolt.

Breanna gets a bit annoyed with Dagor’s continued ranting and shanks him in the heel with her knife and he goes down. Xander involuntarily flinches.

“You filthy scum. How could you believe you could stand against me!?” – Dagor, lying on the ground.

“Why are you here?” – Harold, eyeing Breanna disapprovingly.

“You think you can question me? Filth! I am one of Ovar Windchaser’s favoured. He ordered us here, and promised me lordship of Ravnsalm if I could disrupt your bitch-sister’s plans.” – Dagor, with obvious pride in his voice.

Aeva pads around to the party and takes her natural shape. Beside her, Kel’Serrar rematerializes.

“We have only a few minutes before he snaps out of it.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly, as the rainfall starts to lessen in intensity.

“Right. Tell him to lose his pants.” – Aeva, laughing.

“No, spare him his dignity. He fought honourably.” – Xander, gruffly.
“Why am I the only damn good character? Harold and Kel are unapologetic murderers, Breanna’s a borderline psychopath, Maebh’s a torture-nut and Aeva is…” – Yohan.
“There’s no borderline with Breanna’s psychopathy…” – LD, quietly.
“Aeva is?” – Delphi, sweetly.
“Adorably evil I think.” – Yohan, laughing.
“I am not evil!” – Delphi.
“I am not evil, I just… I just don’t care anymore I think.” – Dev.

We then get a little bit sidetracked talking about the meanings of the characters’ names.

“How many men did you have?” – Harold.

“Ovar Windchaser himself placed his trust in me and I will never betray it. He gave me twenty-two of our finest reavers. The five who aren’t here are out on the east road at this very moment, laying a trap for those fools leaving Ravnsalm.” – Dagor, again very proud.

“Do you have a stash and where is it?” – Harold.

“Everything we took, we either ate it or burnt it.” – Dagor.

“Okay, remove your pants please.” – Aeva, who has had enough of this.

Dagor starts to try and remove his trousers, but Xander steps forward and tries to stop him.

“No! No! Get your filthy hands off me!” – Dagor, screaming his defiance, all the while trying to wriggle out of his trousers.

“Why?” – Harold, who can only muster enough enthusiasm for a single syllable.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood with some light-hearted entertainment.” – Aeva, sweetly.

“This is not light-hearted entertainment, this is evil, taking advantage of someone while their mind is not their own. This man fought valiantly and you are disgracing him.” – Xander, who has picked the writhing Dagor up by the back of his trousers to prevent him from taking them off.

“I am in command of my own mind!” – Dagor, still sprouting obscenities and trying to remove his pants while hanging from Xander’s ferocious grasp.

“An unrepentant brigand who mercilessly slaughtered innocents on the road is excused by a moment of heroism?” – Maebh, quietly.

“There’s also the matter of turning against his own family.” – Harold, a little louder.

“No family of mine you filth!” – Dagor, still hanging from Xander’s fist.

“Oh he will still answer for his crimes, but this is sadism, not justice.” – Xander.

“You’ve not been with us very long Xander. Sadism is kind of what we do.” – Breanna, trying to diffuse the situation. Or enflame it further. I’m not certain.

“Why did you betray us, your family?” – Harold, quietly.

“Ravnsalm. Windchaser promised me Ravnsalm.” – Dagor, just before Kel’Serrar’s malicious hold over him falters.

“Oh gods, what just happened?” – Dagor, who is released by Xander and falls to the ground.

“Would you like the mercy of a swift death cousin?” – Harold, quietly.

“Didn’t I just kill you? No, it seems you killed me.” – Dagor, realising the severity of his wounds.

Harold hands the defeated reaver his flask of rum, and helps him drink some of it, then draws a knife.

“It hurts cousin. Please, make it quick.” – Dagor, weakly.

He bares his throat. The knife flashes.

The companions make a large pyre and pile up the corpses before heading back to Ravnsalm.

* * *

“Dagor… Our own family, I can scarcely believe it…” – Helga, visibly upset by the news.

The companions are seated in Helga’s meeting room once more. Various alcoholic beverages have been served, and Harold in particular is making steady use of it, obviously shaken by the run in with his cousin.

“Five more of Windchaser’s men are on the road to the east too.” – Maebh, solemnly from where she stands in the corner of the room. She alone is not seated at the central table, instead looking out the window at the grey sky.

There is silence for a time until Wolfgang puts his forepaws up on the table and looks around for any treats. Breanna pushes him back down with some difficulty. Both of the marcwolves have grown quite significantly in size now, and they are both quite unruly. One positive though, is that Breanna is fully capable of riding Wolfgang into battle if she chooses.

“I will make sure guards are sent to ensure they are dealt with. You have more important issues to deal with.” – Helga, who pours a hefty amount of brandy in her glass before downing it in one draught.

“Indeed. Southreach, to find Aeva’s family. We will resupply there and then go on to Norbayne.” – Harold, putting their plan forward.

“Then I wish you all the best of luck. May the Golden God and the God of the Waves smile on your voyage.” – Helga, who then turns to Aeva. “And may you find your family safe and well.”

She then turns and embraces Harold fiercely.

“Come back to us Harold. I’ve already lost one brother. Don’t make me farewell another.” – Helga, whispering in Harold’s ear.

“I will return. I promise.” – Harold, quietly returning the hug.

And we will leave it there…

The Wrap-Up:
So this was actually just half a session, but it seemed that this was the best way to wrap up Arc 5, since the second half of our session after lunch seemed to cover what we wanted to do in the interlude and set up our next arc quite nicely.

Apologies for the length, or rather lack of.

Phoenixguard09
2016-12-19, 10:48 PM
Just very quickly, I've put together a couple of tactics heavy combat tests which really go into detail regarding how the combat system works. If anyone is interested in the real crunchy aspects, it may be an interesting read.

http://exilian.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=4970.0

Follow that link over to Exilian and feel free to join in the discussion there or talk about it here.

Session 6.1 shouldn't be too far off, and 6.2 has already been played too, with another game scheduled for the 8th of January.

I've also enlisted Lady Darkmoon to assist in typing up the Great Maw games, which should see them churned out soon after Christmas.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2016-12-23, 11:51 AM
A quick intro to our episodic campaign.


The Great Maw

The Campaign:
I pitched this to the players as being something which could be played on days when the whole group was not available, or while waiting for some players for an extended period and so on. The premise was something that characters could drop in and out of without trouble from session to session. So far we have only played two sessions of the campaign, but both worked pretty well.

The idea is that each session will begin with the players present receiving or choosing a mission which they will attempt to complete in the session, which has so far been around the two hour mark.

The Story:
The characters are all members of an ancient organisation, the Seekers of the Flame. The Seekers have existed, in some form of another for centuries. They originated as a mercenary band which turned against its employers in order to safeguard the smallfolk. Since then they have been involved in many conflicts, always seeking to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

The Seekers are ostensibly heroes, but with a slightly dark tint to them. They are generally poorly equipped, as fighting for the poor doesn't pay well. They do not conscript, but must take volunteers and as such they take anyone to join their ranks, and so many Seekers are criminals escaping the law. That said, the Seekers do try to keep a tight rein on their own. Their enemies are many, and plenty of the nobility dislike them intensely for what they represent.

Far to the west of Norbayne, over the sea, lies a chain of islands, sparsely populated. Unfortunately, these islands appear to be a staging ground for an invasion by the foul Krona, a race of hardy, war-like creatures with an insatiable appetite. The Seekers have been sent to combat this menace, but they are few in number and cannot afford to send more than a handful of troops at a time.

It is time for heroes to stand up and be recognised...

The Players:
At this stage, we have had the following players.


Name: Angus McFyfe
Classes: Shaman 4
Race: Midander (Northerner)
Age: 26 years old.
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair and Skin Colour: Pale skinned with brown hair.
Birthsign: Eagle
Height and Weight: 6'0" and 185lbs or 84kg.

Equipment and Abilities: Angus carries a mace and a wooden round shield and wears warm hide clothing he made himself under a long leather coat. Angus is capable of speaking with birds and communicating with spirits and is able to cause an enemy to grow weak or even fall asleep under his touch. He has a wide array of knowledge, from spirits to survival techniques, wildlife and poisons.

Sessions Present: 1.1 and 1.3.


Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 31
Strength: 30
Toughness: 29
Dexterity: 24
Agility: 24
Health: 6/6
Initiative: 3
Willpower: 27
Charisma: 33
Perception: 26
Intelligence: 28
Magic Level: 2
Soulfire: -
Luck: 4/6


Name: Mathlynn
Classes: Necromancer 3 / Warrior 1
Race: Dunscarth
Age: 30 years old.
Eye Colour: Black
Hair and Skin Colour: White, with pale grey skin.
Birthsign: Dragain
Height and Weight: 5'9" and 66kg or 145lbs.

Equipment and Abilities: Mathlynn wears light leather armour and a long coat over a light chain hauberk and carries a steel dagger and a high-quality longsword on her belt. She is capable of raising the dead in a wide variety of forms and can use Death and Blood Magic to both harm her foes and prime corpses for explosion. She possesses a wealth of knowledge of the Otherworld, daemons and Black Magic in general.

Sessions Present: 1.1, 1.2 and 1.3.


Combat Skill: 32
Ballistic Skill: 24
Strength: 30
Toughness: 40
Dexterity: 35
Agility: 28
Health: 7/7
Initiative: 3
Willpower: 53
Charisma: 15
Perception: 39
Intelligence: 44
Magic Level: 1
Soulfire: -
Luck: 7/6


Name: Elenthrus
Classes: Rogue 3
Race: Feartarbh (Enclaves)
Age: 21 years old.
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair and Skin Colour: Dark grey pelt.
Birthsign: Horse
Height and Weight: 7'7" and 650lbs or 294kg.

Equipment and Abilities: Huge and heavily built, Elenthrus wears heavy leather armour and carries two massive daggers on his belt. Somehow, for one so large, he is able to move very quietly and is an expert at concealment. He is deadly with his daggers, especially if he manages to sneak up on his target. Even in open combat however, he is a deadly opponent and an intimidating presence on the battlefield.

Sessions Present: 1.1.


Combat Skill: 45
Ballistic Skill: 22
Strength: 50
Toughness: 35
Dexterity: 18
Agility: 27
Health: 15/16
Initiative: 4
Willpower: 27
Charisma: 36
Perception: 34
Intelligence: 45
Magic Level: -
Soulfire: -
Luck: 6/6


Name: Whyliff
Classes: Binder 3
Race: Milander (Lowlands)
Age: 23 years old.
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair and Skin Colour: Pale skinned with red hair and freckles.
Birthsign: Hare
Height and Weight: 5'9" and 140lbs or 63kg.

Equipment and Abilities: Whyliff is a Midlander of average build, armoured in tough scale and armed with a sword and towershield. Whyliff is able to harness his arcane power with his blade and can increase the effectiveness of his armour with his shadow fields. He is more heavily armoured than most casters and can call upon a wide range of knowledge of various magical disciplines.

Sessions Present: 1.3.


Combat Skill: 45
Ballistic Skill: 21
Strength: 44
Toughness: 44
Dexterity: 27
Agility: 28
Health: 16/16
Initiative: 4
Willpower: 45
Charisma: 27
Perception: 41
Intelligence: 45
Magic Level: 2
Soulfire: 20/20
Luck: 6/6


Name: Assar Eilert
Classes: Ranger 4
Race: Invarrian
Age: 27 years old.
Eye Colour: Green eyes.
Hair and Skin Colour: Neat black fur.
Birthsign: Wolf
Height and Weight: 5'8" and 62kg or 133lbs.

Equipment and Abilities: We've seen Assar before, in the Travellers in the Snow mini-session. Since then, Assar has picked up a little more experience and joined the Seekers. She carries a sword, several daggers, a bow and some throwing axes and wears sturdy leather armour and a chain hauberk. She is a competent swordswoman, a reasonable archer and a superb tracker.

Sessions Present: 1.2


Combat Skill: 43
Ballistic Skill: 30
Strength: 35
Toughness: 35
Dexterity: 31
Agility: 34
Health: 3/12
Initiative: 5
Willpower: 30
Charisma: 28
Perception: 39
Intelligence: 35
Magic Level: -
Soulfire: -
Luck: 7/6


Name: Uday Vel-Ramirez
Classes: Engineer 3
Race: Bruin
Age: 20 years old.
Eye Colour: Blue
Hair and Skin Colour: Short black fur.
Birthsign: Wolf
Height and Weight: 4'4" and 200lbs or 90kg

Equipment and Abilities: Wears heavy leather armour and carries around all sorts of equipment, up to and including a portable forge. Is capable of creating all sorts of things, and will use either a wood-cutting axe or smithing hammer in close combat if forced. He is an incredible craftsman, and has already constructed a cart with two Scorpion-pattern ballistas mounted on it.

Sessions Present: 1.3.


Combat Skill: 27
Ballistic Skill: 28
Strength: 50
Toughness: 45
Dexterity: 40
Agility: 27
Health: 13/13
Initiative: 3
Willpower: 27
Charisma: 23
Perception: 22
Intelligence: 50
Magic Level: -
Soulfire: -
Luck: 6/6


Name: Aella
Classes: Warrior 3
Race: Feartarbh (Enclaves)
Age: 35 years old.
Eye Colour: Emerald
Hair and Skin Colour: Auburn fur.
Birthsign: Eagle
Height and Weight: 8'2" and 675lbs or 300kg

Equipment and Abilities: Aella is a powerful warrior, armed with gigantic swords and armoured in tough scale armour. Her two swords would basically be greatswords in the hands of anyone but a Feartarbh, but with her astounding size and strength she can wield them at the same time. Aella's best attribute is hitting things really, really hard.

Sessions Present: 1.3.


Combat Skill: 41
Ballistic Skill: 30
Strength: 53
Toughness: 44
Dexterity: 16
Agility: 13
Health: 1/16
Initiative: 4
Willpower: 23
Charisma: 25
Perception: 21
Intelligence: 33
Magic Level: -
Soulfire: -
Luck: 5/6


Name: Florian
Classes: Druid 3
Race: Leathe (Forest)
Age: 27 years old.
Eye Colour: Emerald green eyes.
Hair and Skin Colour: Sandy blonde fur.
Birthsign: Hare
Height and Weight: 5'1" and 132lbs or 60kg

Equipment and Abilities: Florian is a small Leathe who carries a spear cut to her height and wears a long leather coat over her warm homespun clothes. She has a wide range of knowledge of the wilderness and spirits and can be quite coercive. She is an accomplished shape-changer, able to take the form of an owl, a mouse or a crainn, which is basically a wolverine. She is also able to manipulate roots, branches and vines and remove curses on allies or items.

Sessions Present: 1.3.


Combat Skill: 17
Ballistic Skill: 35
Strength: 23
Toughness: 23
Dexterity: 26
Agility: 39
Health: 7/7
Initiative: 5
Willpower: 20
Charisma: 31
Perception: 29
Intelligence: 34
Magic Level: 2
Soulfire: -
Luck: 5/6

I have Lady Darkmoon helping me out with writing these sessions up. Thankfully. My workload at the moment is absolutely ridiculous, so a bit of help offered has been fantastic.

Now it is almost 3am here, so I'm going to head off. The next session of Three Coins should hopefully be posted by the new year, with another, again hopefully, not long after that as we intend to play on the 8th of January and I would like both finished by then.

Night!

Phoenixguard09
2017-01-05, 11:23 PM
Session 6.1: How to Disappoint a Farmhouse and Alienate People

…Such clubs were rumoured to be the meeting places of ‘persons of quality’ who wished to take part in socially perceived immoral acts, and the members were often involved in politics. Neither the activities nor membership of the club were easy to ascertain, for the clubs were rumoured to have distant ties to an elite society known only as The Order of the Second Circle…
- A Dissertation on the Helvetilds of Southreach, penned in the year 1242 CE.

Welcome to Session 6.1: How to Disappoint a Farmhouse and Alienate People

The companions arrive in the Bay of Spears, approaching the town of Southreach, ostensibly the capital of the realm of the same name. It has been a journey of about six weeks since they left Ravnsalm, and they have spent the time recovering from their exertions. They have been completely resupplied out of Helga’s treasury and each have a number of nice warm outfits to ward off the cold northern winds. Interestingly enough, Harold's birthday passed on the voyage, quite uneventfully.

“Here it is. Southreach.” – Harold, as the Tide Tremor glides into the quiet dock.

I was asked here about the various animals the companions have picked up over their travels.


Down in the hold, Toirneach and Amadeus are calm. By now, both are old hands at these sea voyages, and the creaking and confined spaces no longer worry them as such. Kel’Serrar sits down there too, a lantern providing him with just enough light to practice his woodwork.

On the deck above, Aeva/Hawk sits on the mast, observing everything quietly, hoping that her family can be found. Below her, Breanna plays with Wolfgang, throwing a stick from port to starboard for the young marcwolf to chase and bring back to her. Harold stands by the ship’s wheel, expertly guiding the vessel with Bach standing vigilantly beside him. Xander sits nearby, ready to lend his considerable muscle and weight to the cause if anything physical needs doing. In the main cabin which she has commandeered, Maebh sits reading, a glowing ball of amber energy illuminating the text. Slumbering on the floor beside her, Crithtaluin, now the size of a large dog, makes slight rasping noises with every breath.


Wolfgang is a bit bigger than Bach as Breanna has just about spoiled the beast. He’s almost fat, but that extra bulk translates to more mass and power in combat. Both are getting pretty close to full size by this stage, standing four and a half feet at the shoulder. The way Breanna has raised Wolfgang however means that he is boisterous, a bit loud and full of energy, where Bach is more disciplined and quieter. Neither is exactly well-behaved though.

Crithtaluin spends most of her time either sleeping or eating, likely due to the cold weather, which is not conducive to a reptile adapted to a tropical climate.


We were introduced to Aeva of the Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn back in Session 4.4(a): When the Bat-**** Insanity Hits the Fan. She was in Nordtarnet trying to follow rumours she had heard about her family, having been separated from them for several years.

Back in Session 5.1: A Matter of Prophecy, Aeva got Harold to help her out, asking the Invarrians of Isenhjem, great travellers (and raiders) for word of her clan. Apparently, a good few Selkye have taken up a nomadic existence on the southern coasts of Southreach, and Aeva believes, or at least hopes, her family may be among them.

It is early morning when the companions arrive, and the rising sun illuminates the massive stone castle on the eastern edge of the township, around which the town was built, well over a century ago. On the surface, Southreach looks peaceful but it is a façade.

Setting out into the town, it is quickly apparent that, in what is becoming somewhat of a common theme, Southreach is being deserted by the populace.

INSERT MAP HERE

Aeva:
Aeva sits down on a rocky waterfront and enters a trance to communicate with the spirits in the area. They are just starting to awaken once more after a long and harsh winter, slowly bringing some life back to the land. One small water spirit approaches the druid and curls around the arm of her astral-form.

”What is happening around here little one?” – Aeva, in a gentle and friendly tone.

The spirit explains that they are all frightened by a powerful daemonic entity which is focusing its power on a small area somewhere in the northern part of the town. It also shares its concerns regarding irregularities in the tides and how much it longs to be swept out to the greater ocean one day.

Understandably, Aeva only shares the information about the powerful daemon with the rest of the party. Breanna agrees to go and find a map of the town somewhere so Aeva can point out exactly what part of the town to avoid/investigate.

Xander:
Xander sees a marketplace, with not a lot of merchants plying their wares. He finds a fruit merchant and buys two coppers worth of fruit. (Another recurring theme.)

“What brings you to Southreach my friend?” – Fruit-merchant.

“We are searching for the family of a friend. Rumours said they had been seen in the area. I would like to know though, why are people leaving?” – Xander, munching on a pear.

“A few things. First of all, the business with Nordtarnet to the north. That bloody Dwergar won’t stop expanding his borders. The hysterics say his armies are moving south as we speak.” – Fruit-merchant, darkly.

“The others should be pretty familiar with what happened in Nordtarnet…”
“Yeah, yet another recurring theme actually. Everywhere you guys go, things go pretty badly.” – Yohan.
“Well we did rescue one town.” – Sins.
“You did? Which one was that?” – Sarcastically.
“The one which is now probably in ruins since I said that.” – Sins, laughing.

Xander spends the next few hours helping out around the docks, offering some muscle for hire in loading ships and shifting goods, earning a little coin.

Harold:
Harold takes his equipment and finds the town’s last blacksmith, a stocky and dirty Dwergar, and gets it all looked over, an excuse to engage in much the same kind of small-talk as Xander.

“Two reasons. The first is because of that bastard up north. Haha, he wasn’t the bastard was he? That was his brother if I heard it right? Doesn’t matter, this one is a right prick and he’s attacking everyone he can get his grubby little hands on. He’s got some queer ideas regarding people who aren’t of Dwergar stock too, namely that they need to die. As you can imagine, most everyone in this town wants out. I’ll probably be alright though. I’m a dwarf, same as him, and I’ve got some skill with a hammer and forge. I might get forced to outfit his army, but that’s less work than relocating at my age.” – Dwergar blacksmith.

“What did you think of Tremor?” – Harold.

“Who?” – Blacksmith.

“Tremor.” – Harold.

“Who?” – Blacksmith.

“Tremor.” – Dev.
“Yeah I heard! The character doesn’t know who you’re talking about.”
“He doesn’t know who Tremor is.” – Yohan, in a stage whisper.

“So those rumours I tried to spread about Bain being the real bastard didn’t work.” – Dev, upset.
“If they did spread, they might not have spread here. Or this guy might just not be that clued in.” – Ladyhawk.


Sadly for Harold, the rumours didn’t get too far on Unterguardt. Kabysholm, where Harold did the majority of his rumour mongering, is a bustling port-city. This is good. On the other hand, the majority of the town’s trade is done with places on the Norbayne landmass, where the resources Kabysholm produces can be sold at a high price. (Kabysholm’s main export, like many Northmann towns, is leather. As such, most Unterguardt towns and the like produce their own leather, restricting trade upon the landmass)

The rumours did get a fair foothold within Kabysholm itself, especially as the city prepared itself for Bain’s imminent assault as the city’s rulers did their best to use the horrific nature of Bain’s rule as a rallying cry to the populace. Unfortunately, their open disavowal of Ironfist did not endear them to Bain when he captured the city, and most of the population was massacred as a warning to those who would try to stand against him.

“I see. You mentioned a second reason people were leaving?” – Harold, fishing for more information.

“Oh aye, the Helvetilds. They were thought to have gone extinct, if you can use the term for a club, but they’ve re-emerged now what with all the crap going on to the north. They say they’re daemon worshippers, boys who are looking for a bit of a thrill.” – Dargrim, the blacksmith.

“What else do they say about them?” – Harold.

“They practise blood magic and they go around wearing masks made from animal heads. Or so they say. Sounds pretty messy to me.” – Dargrim, rolling his eyes.

“Thank you for your time.” – Harold, taking his gear and leaving.

“Oh, the authorities are blaming them for some fires in the last few months. They’ve been ‘arson’ around! Get it!?” – Dargrim, laughing at his own brilliance.

Harold smiles politely and walks away, groaning inwardly.

Harold rejoins the other companions and they make their way to an inn for lunch, a cosy little establishment on the edge of the town’s main road. Maebh takes the horses into the inn’s stable, having left Crithtaluin safely asleep on the Tide Tremor. Wolfgang and Bach are left tied up outside the establishment, where they happily doze together, in the process preventing a few potential clients from entering. The companions take a table in the corner, struggling to fit Xander’s massive frame into the booth, despite the increased scale inherent in all Northmann manufacture.

Harold and Aeva head to the bar to order food and drinks for the group, and Aeva strikes up a quick conversation as the burly, bearded Northmann pours the ale.

“Other than myself, have any Selkye been seen in the area? Refugees or anything like that?” – Aeva, earnest.

“Not for a little while now. Last Selkye I saw was a little family who headed down the coast to the fishing village of Breddvind. They wanted to build a new home I recall. Literally just a fifteen minute walk out the south-east gate lass.” – Gilvar, the friendly barkeep.

“Do you recall what they looked like? How many of them were there?” – Aeva, desperate for information.

“Ah short, and dark-haired, as your people tend to be. A man there was, and his wife, and a daughter. The daughter looked like you, and had one of those strange sea-dog things your people like to keep. And the man’s eyes, pale blue they were, just like yours.” – Gilvar, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Aeva leans over the bar and gives the massive man a hug, tears glistening in those pale blue eyes.

“Thank you so much.” – Aeva, quietly.

She and Harold return to the companions’ table, drinks in hand and share the news.

“Everyone used to comment on how similar my sister and I looked, and she took our hafhund, Narta with her when we fled. She loved that dog. I’m sure it’s them. I can’t believe that now, after all this time I am so close.” – Aeva, happily to the others as they settle down for their meal.

* * *

During the time between landing in Southreach and meeting up again in the tavern, Kel’Serrar went and bought himself a light chain hauberk to wear under his jerkin, and he takes a couple of moments to go and put it on.

Coming back downstairs, he is just in time to catch the end of another argument between Harold and most of the party. It has been a fair while since Harold has been able to properly relax and have a drink, and that is just how he would like to spend the rest of the day. The others though would prefer to investigate a few things, namely the presence in the keep, the actions of the Helvetilds and the whereabouts of Aeva’s family.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you get drunk today.” – Maebh, hissing under her breath to Harold.

“If you and Aeva go look for her family and Xander, Kel and Bree go looking for the Helvetilds or whatever, you don’t need me. I haven’t been able to properly sit and have a drink for ages now.” – Harold, already looking forward to another nice, cool flagon of ale.

“Helga gave us plenty of alcohol when we left Ravnsalm. You’ve been drinking the entire trip over here.” – Breanna, quietly.

“Disclaimer kids, don’t drink and drive. Don’t be like Harold.” – Dev, laughing.

“Come on Harold, you should go with Maebh and Aeva to protect them if they run into trouble.” – Xander, cautious as always.

“They’re going to go find Aeva’s family in a fishing village down the coast, not heading off to battle.” – Harold, dismissive.

“Exactly, a fishing village down the coast. Do you honestly think anywhere near open water is safe now?” – Kel’Serrar, sitting down with a biting comment.

“Fine, I’ll go.” – Harold.

Breanna produces a finely drawn map of the town and lays it out on the table, allowing Aeva to mark down where she believes the spirits told her the daemon was exerting its influence. It appears to be right on the northern edge of the Craftsmen’s District, which is dominated by tanners.

“Right, let’s finish lunch and get on with it.” – Breanna, cheerful.

* * *

Aeva, Harold and Maebh:
The three companions head out the southern gate to the village of Breddvind, Bach trotting along happily behind them. It is only a short walk to the village, passing a couple of isolated hamlets on the way. One man drives a cart along the road, hauled by a shaggy ox and stinking of fish. Aeva smiles a greeting, but is ignored.

They arrive in the village and see a few people going about their daily lives. One middle-aged Northmann woman sits on the porch of her house, repairing a large net and Aeva approaches her.

“Hello there. Would you happen to know of any Selkye in the area?” – Aeva, cheerful.

“Oh no. I am sorry…” – The woman, who then silently points across the village to the burnt out wreck of a house.

“When did this happen?” – Aeva, now less happy.

“About a week ago.” – The woman.

Aeva shoots a dark glare at Harold, who has the good grace to look at least somewhat apologetic. Their sidetrack back to Ravnsalm likely cost them over a week.

“Was anyone inside?” – Aeva, daring to hope.

“One body was recovered. A young girl.” – The woman, sadly.

Aeva bows her head.

“Let’s go examine it closer Aeva. We might find something in the ruins.” – Maebh, placing a consoling hand on the Selkye’s shoulder. She takes Aeva over to what is left of the house, but Harold remains behind to question the woman further.

“Did they have any enemies in the village?” – Harold, quietly.

“No, definitely not. They were well liked, for all that they were not here for long. They seemed happy enough, and then one night we could hear these otherworldly noises, screams and roars coming from the house. We all locked up our doors and hid. The next morning the blaze was dying down and we were able to search the wreckage. No one looked too closely though.” – The woman, making a warding sign with her hand.

“Why is that?” – Harold.

“I don’t know what made those noises friend, but I will never forget them. It was altogether evil.” – The woman, who folds up her net and walks into her house, the door swinging shut behind her.

* * *

Xander:
Xander, Breanna and Kel’Serrar split up to try and find some more information. They have assumed that the daemonic presence Aeva was able to discover in the northern part of the town must be connected to the Helvetilds, and so decide that they should do what they can to find out about both.

They split up for a few hours, wandering around the area trying to find something, anything at all.

Xander treads warily down an alleyway, and has some luck. Before him, on the ground lies a dusty brass amulet, the chain broken. Engraved upon it is a rather daemonic look goat’s head sigil. Naturally, Xander’s first reaction is to pick it up.

“Okay, let’s get a Willpower Check here then.”
“Aaaaaaah ****.” – Yohan, who takes his dice out of their bag.
Dev starts laughing.
“What is your Willpower?” – Ladyhawk, concerned.
“28…” – Yohan, who is already preparing for failure.
“I believe. You will succeed.” – Delphi.
“That’s a no.” – Yohan, upon rolling a 57.
“Yeah, not good.” – LD.
“Do I feel that this thing is going to do bad things to me?” – Yohan.
“It will do very bad things to you, yes.”
“Bad touch indeed.” – Delphi.
“So Luck Point yeah? ****!” – Yohan, re-rolling and then failing again.
“Can he spend 2 Luck Points and, just, pass?” – Dev.
“Yeah, no.”
“He can use a Luck Point and re-roll though right?” – Ladyhawk.
“He just did.”
“Oh crap. He can do it again though right? Pretty sure you’ve let me before.” – Ladyhawk.
“I may have, but that would have been very rare. As a rule, you can’t re-roll a re-roll unless expressly stated otherwise.”
“What about if I spend another 2 Luck Points to re-roll again?” – Yohan.

As this is what the Luck Point system is all about, providing almost a ‘barter’ between the GM and the players, I was happy to do that. Seemed fair.

As soon as Xander picks the amulet up he feels it start to burn in his hand and there is a slight pushing at the corner of his mind.

“Nah, **** that.” – Xander, throwing the amulet down on the ground once more. It stands on its edge where it lands.

He leaves it on the ground, but takes a mental note of where he left it so he can bring Breanna back later.

“Can I just ask what would have happened to him there?” – Ladyhawk, concerned.
“He would have been possessed by a powerful daemon.
“Oh ****.” – Ladyhawk.
“Yeah, there’s a good reason I threw it away from me.” – Yohan.
“We would have had to put you down somehow…” – Aeva, thoughtful.

They then spend a fair bit of time discussing the best way to take Xander down.

Breanna:
Being the hardened and unscrupulous criminal she is, Breanna spent most of the afternoon breaking and entering peoples’ houses and rifling through their personal belongings. She was generally unsuccessful when it came to finding any information regarding daemons or the Helvetilds, but she was able to line her pockets with some loose change along the way.

After Harold shared what he found out about the Helvetilds, Breanna did her best to confine her searching to the houses and rooms of well-off young men, and eventually this tactic paid off. Under the pillow of one young man’s bed she found a letter, the wax seal broken, but clearly depicting a goat’s head wreathed in flames.



Dear Master Bogrufsson,

Your interest in joining the esteemed Helvetilds, or the Order of the Second Circle has been noted by several initiates and so we extend this formal invitation to attend the ceremony to be held on the Fifthday of Tenthmonth at the Lysirkel Estate at midnight.

You are expected to maintain a calm and respectful manner while engaged in activities with the Order. Please meet with the two initiates at the north gate of the town at a quarter-to the hour. They will be expecting you.

We look forward to your presence.

Breanna takes the letter, a small pouch of coins hidden under a loose floorboard, and flits out the window and back to the rooftops.

Kel’Serrar:
The Danann finds somewhere quiet to attune himself to his surroundings, and is almost overloaded with the feedback his senses receives. He can feel the presence of everything, the couple of hundred people who haven’t left Southreach yet, his companions, the horde of rats infesting the sewers beneath the town, even, at the very edges of his consciousness, the people in Breddvind to the south, and a small wolf-pack in the marshland to the north.

And a presence, not really alive but very powerful which dwells in the keep….

That place Aeva pointed out on the map earlier seems to be just about bereft of creatures, suggesting that they have fled, or they avoid the place now that the daemon has manifested there.

* * *

Aeva, Maebh and Breanna:
Aeva sits down at the edge of the foundations of the house and enters a trance. There are a handful of seelie spirits nearby, all of them busily trying to return some life to the land after winter, and Aeva is able to get some information from them.

The spirits share that the people who lived in the house were very friendly with them, and that they fled to the west one night before the fire. They aren’t able to share much more than that, but Aeva asks them to pass word on to them. The spirits are happy to try, but can’t guarantee it will work, as spirits are usually confined to an area. With that said, they may be able to try and pass a message along, and hope it doesn’t get too distorted by the time it reaches its destination.

”Brilliant. Thank you my friends. Please tell them Aeva is coming.” – Aeva, daring to hope that they may still be alive.

Fair bit of concern regarding how this could go horribly wrong here. They’re basically playing Chinese Whispers with spirits.

”Was the little one able to escape?” – Aeva, hoping that the girl found in the wreckage may not have been her sister.

She gets conflicting answers. Some spirits inform her that the little one left with the others, but others tell her that she was unable to escape the burning.

Harold and Maebh inspect the ruins of the house and Harold is able to find an amulet in the ashes, carved from nahvalur tusk into the shape of a stylised crescent moon. The very same amulet that Aeva herself wears around her neck. Harold hands the jewellery to Aeva and she accepts it wordlessly.

Asking around the village, it seems that everyone is blaming the arson on the Helvetilds. It is their way after all. As the Selkye were newcomers, the authorities have not exactly done much about it, much to Aeva’s disgust.


We had a bit of a tangent here when Delphi expressed a desire to interrogate people by turning parts of them into animals. Sins took it one step further.

“Your head is now a squid. Now that you can’t breathe and you know that I can do this whenever I like, I’m going to turn you back and you will tell me what I need to know. If you don’t, you go squid again.” – Sins.

Which of course got me thinking, how well do squid hear? Do they even have ears?

It turns out they have primitive ear-like structures called statocysts, which can pick up vibrations in water. They can only hear vibrations ranging up to 500Hz though, which makes it about a quarter as sensitive as ours.

Having done that research, it strikes me that this knowledge will probably never aid me in later life, but hey, the more you know right?

“So with that in mind, it probably wouldn’t make for an effective interrogation technique.”
“I can just turn them back and ask the questions.” – Sins.
“Why not just waterboard them or something like that? It’s the same thing essentially.” – Yohan.
“Yeah, but the body-horror of casting Head-to-Squid is something you don’t get with waterboarding.”
“Except then you get that one weird guy who is just like, ‘I love it,’ and the whole thing goes out the window.” – Yohan, laughing.

And then it got really weird.

“Guys, can we stop the torture conversation? I draw the line at torture generally.” – Dev, to laughter.
“You do not!” – Yohan and I simultaneously.
“I have drawn the line.” – Dev.
“You have not!” – Yohan, laughing.
“How many times have you stopped Aeva from removing someone’s pants?” – Sins, bringing up the least of Harold’s crimes.
“That’s not torture, that’s embarrassment and ultimately harmless.” – Dev, forgetting that usually everyone they do that to ends up dead.
“If you’re observing it, you’re condoning it and that is pretty torturous.” – Yohan.

“Session 2.1. You guys brought a captive back to Rangard and then gleefully observed his torture and death.”
“I did not gleefully watch-“ – Dev, cut off.
“You certainly did. You put bets on him!”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. I did.” – Dev, laughing.

“Aeva, I think if we are going to find out what happened to your family and where they went, we need to find these Helvetilds.” – Maebh, gently.

* * *

It is early evening when the companions meet up once more in the tavern, the Old Speckled Hen, and discuss what they have learnt.

“Should we wait for Breanna?” – Harold, already into his third ale for the evening. The stocky Leathe has not appeared yet.

“No, she should be here any minute. What did we find?” – Maebh, taking charge.

“Well that place Aeva told us about near the Craftsmen District is dead. Nothing living wants to go there. There’s also something within the keep. One entity, I can’t tell if it is alive or not, but it radiates power.” – Kel’Serrar.

“I found an amulet on the ground not far from there too. It tried to attack me when I picked it up, so I left it behind. I don’t know enough about magic to say any more than that.” – Xander, still a little shaken by the event.

“I’d like to check that out.” – Maebh, quickly.

Just then, Breanna strolls in, Wolfgang trotting happily behind her. The Leathe sits down with a slight jangling of coins and throws the letter she procured on the table.

“We have an invitation to a private party. Can we go?” – Breanna, grinning.

“Why is it always midnight?” – Harold, reading the note.

“Full moon tonight too.” – Aeva, quietly.

“Typical.” – Harold, grumbling.

* * *

Back soon. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2017-01-05, 11:35 PM
And we are back! :smallbiggrin:

There are still quite a few hours until the midnight meeting, so the companions eat a quick dinner at the Old Speckled Hen and then head out to find Xander’s medallion, both Maebh and Breanna keen to have a look at it.

Xander is able to find the medallion again, and in the fading light, the companions cluster around it. Maebh and Breanna both bend down to examine it, careful not to touch the damned thing. Aeva meanwhile shies away as she can feel the spirits in the area warning her of the danger, screaming at her to get away from it.

All Maebh can determine is that the thing is definitely of Black Magic origin and that there is a horribly malevolent presence held within it.

Breanna though has far more luck. Immediately she can tell there is a daemonic entity bound within it. The daemons she drains of power are reasonably weak, ‘snaglings’ if you will. Occasionally she will attempt to draw in and drain a daemon of greater power, and that has backfired on her in the past. The thing within this medallion is at least five times more powerful than those. Whatever, or whoever, managed to force this entity into this receptacle must have been extraordinarily powerful or very, very lucky.

Breanna mainly tries to call upon Level 1 Daemons. Occasionally she will go after Level 2’s, but this is pretty rare. This entity is the equivalent of Level 10.

“Can daemons manifest in the material plane?” – Yohan.
“Yes they can, but they need to be brought into it.” – Sins.
“So if it is forced out of the amulet it will?” – Yohan.
“Probably be very angry.”

Aeva puts together a little carry-bag almost out of rope and a tarp from Xander’s kit and they are able to pick the amulet up. She can feel the presence within it is starting to get irate at being disturbed and the spirits are still telling her to drop it and run, but she steadies her mind and keep hold of it.

“Can we use the tarp as an improvised weapon?” – Sins.
“And then we need to kill the now-possessed enemy…” – Ladyhawk, pointing out the obvious flaw.

“I wonder, will my poisoned bolts work on a possessed enemy?” – LD.
“Poison bolts?” – Dev.
“For my crossbow. I’ve got half of them poisoned for damage and the other half poisoned to sedate.” – LD.
“But do you have any poisoned to seduce?” – Yohan.
“What?” – LD, laughing.
“Yeah I don’t know what that was about. I’ve got an alchemist character in another campaign and he uses pheromones to screw with people. I still don’t know what it was about though.” – Yohan, to more confused laughter.
“To answer your question LD, yes the bolts will work on the possessed enemy. Can’t guarantee just what effect they may have though.”

They still have a few hours before midnight, but decide to try and get an advantage on their enemies and scout the place out beforehand. They leave Southreach proper and approach the Lysirkel Estate as stealthily as possible. The hamlet appears to be deserted and possibly has been for some time, judging by the state of the iron gate across the path, propped open by the unruly undergrowth. Harold and Breanna briefly check out the dwelling’s interior and can see that whoever lived here did not have to leave in a hurry, but packed everything up and left at their own pace. Their departure was probably voluntary, and several months ago at least.

Any livestock they would have kept in the pens outside are gone, either taken by the inhabitants, turned loose or sold.

Aeva can tell that the handful of spirits in the area are apprehensive about what is to happen…

For Breanna, it is almost as if the air itself is crackling with darkness…

But it is Maebh who is most apprehensive. She knows a major magical event causes the equivalent of ripples in the material around it, like throwing a stone into water. The ripples that stone produces spread in the water both before and after the point of impact, and so it is too with magic. She can feel a dull vibration in the ground, the faint smell of ozone in the air, a feeling of wrongness all around. Magical shockwaves. Something big is about to happen and the companions are going to be caught in the middle of it.

The companions spend a fair bit of time setting up in some kind of formation around the hamlet. Kel’Serrar makes himself and Xander invisible and alters Harold’s and Maebh’s features to appear like young Northmenn. Breanna cloaks herself in shadow and Aeva takes her hawk form and flies to the top of a nearby tree, depositing the bag with the medallion in it on a branch.

Kel’Serrar enters a trance once more and attunes himself to his environment, hidden in some long grass and guarded by both Xander and Harold. He can sense some animals around, birds in the trees, some rabbits and the like, but over time they start to vacate the area. Something seems to have spooked them.

Far to the north, a wolf pack howls up at the moon.

“So you’re saying that cute little bunnies can feel black magic, bad stuff?” – Delphi.
“Yes. They can.”
“How long before they start to throw fireballs?” – Delphi.
“They can sense it, not use it.” – Laughing.
“So far that’s been a recurring theme actually. The wildlife in the area has known about bad **** happening before we did.” – Ladyhawk.
“It’s primal instinct. People are just bad at it.” – Yohan.

I would have liked to have heard what they were planning here, but unfortunately I just got Yohan’s anecdotes regarding his colour-blindness and he and Sins discussing Hearthstone tactics.

It is almost an hour until midnight when a single figure is seen wandering up the path from the south. He is an Invarrian, quite young and lightly built. He carries a dagger at his belt and a large sack over his back, dripping a dark liquid behind him. He doesn’t seem wary of anything, and the companions allow him to walk through the gate, up to the house and enter unmolested and unaware of their presence.

Some minutes pass and there a crash from inside the dwelling and a startled curse.

To Kel’Serrar’s enhanced senses the shift in the air is palpable. All of sudden the air around the house gets very, very hot and for only a split second there’s an immensely powerful entity present inside.

As soon as he hears the curse, Xander starts moving towards the door, alert for any danger, joined pretty swiftly by Breanna. Aeva takes flight too and perches on the windowsill, looking inside. The Invarrian youth is standing before a huge round table, immobile as a gigantic flaming entity forces itself down his throat.

”The game is on everyone. He’s done something bad touch. Looks like he is being possessed by fire.” – Aeva’s Whispering Wind to the companions. Her nose starts to bleed as she casts it, but it is only momentary discomfort.

As soon as they hear Aeva’s message, the companions start to ready themselves. Taking up her spear, Maebh moves up, taking cover behind the fence of one of the livestock pens. She’s wary of disturbing the entity in the middle of the possession as it might view her as a more appealing target. Despite that, she does start to prepare some kind of casting. Kel’Serrar does likewise in his own manner, taking an arrow and nocking it.

Xander focuses and manifests an aura soft golden light around each of the companions, except Kel’Serrar, who would prefer to remain invisible. Xander’s own invisibility is dispelled by his casting.

The window before Aeva shatters, but she is able to avoid the storm of glass which whips out. She swoops back down and looks inside, seeing that the youth has disappeared and the table is charred and smoking. The air smells very strongly of smoke and ozone. Aeva/Hawk flies back to Maebh, landing on her shoulder.

“He’s not there anymore. I lost track.” – Aeva, panicked.

Harold turns around and notices with growing dread that the iron gate they walked through to get in is glowing cherry-red with heat. Slowly, the bars making up the fence levitate out of the ground and with a crack, shoot out at Xander and Maebh, leaving flashes of red in the air. Maebh is clipped by one of the bars and snarls at the burn across her shoulder, but Xander merely turns and accepts to projectiles with his shield, deflecting them into the house.
“I am wall.” – Yohan.
Xander focuses once more, this time on increasing his magical armour even further.

Kel’Serrar cannot see anything inside the house, but he knows there is something there and so he prepares an enchantment of accuracy on his arrow and lets it fly. The grey-fletched missile swings through the air in flight, disappearing behind the wall.

Harold has been keeping a lookout on the road, and now can see three more figures approaching. He runs quickly to Kel’Serrar and nudges the slightly built ranger in the ribs.

“Three people coming up the road.” – Harold, whispering intently.

“You take care of them then.” – Kel’Serrar.

I ask for a Perception Check from everyone and then a Willpower Check from everyone but Harold.

None of the companions can see inside, but from where they are it sounds as if there’s something throwing a tantrum in there. Things are being hurled around and hitting the walls, from pots to furniture. The house itself is starting to creak and the air itself is getting ever warmer.

Maebh’s body crackles with power as she cloaks herself in golden lightning, and then she manifests a glowing disc of aethyric energy in front of her, hoping to protect herself from those burning iron bars. Aeva/Hawk springs off Maebh’s shoulder and lands on one of Xander’s horns, and drops an arcane snare inside the house.

And then the house explodes.

I ask for Agility Checks from Aeva, Xander and Breanna.
“I’m not going to make that. Can I plant my shield and just try to take the brunt of it? My Agility is like 16. Let’s be honest, he’s not even going to try and dodge.” – Yohan.
“I have +30 to Dodge with Skill bonuses and Talents and I rolled a 1.” – LD, demonstrating the breadth of difference we have.
“What did you need to roll under to pass?” – Dev.
“Agility 56, +30 bonuses, I needed an 86 or under to pass.” – LD.
“But she could have 10 in Agility and still pass. ****ing Dice Jesus.”

Aeva is able to flutter up and away from the blast and is only slightly singed, some tail feathers smouldering in the night air. Breanna is able to avoid the blast entirely with her preternatural agility. Xander on the other hand grits his teeth, plants his shield and holds steady as the fire billows around him. He roars in pain as the fur on his arms and face is singed but he refuses to yield and eventually the flaming gale dies down.

The entire front of the house, and most of the floor of the second storey, has blown away, revealing a figure within, approximately ten feet tall. The head of the figure, if you could call it such, is reminiscent of a massive horned skull. The ‘body’ of the beast is made up of furniture and parts of the wall, feeding the infernal flames wreathing it, almost a parody of armour.

“Are we fighting a house golem?” – Sins.
“Kind of. A big, flaming house golem.”
“Still not the worst golem I have fought.” – Sins.

While Yohan decides what exactly he would like to do here, Sins starts going through his own options, and then finds one he really likes.

“Hmm, that might be cool.” – Sins.
“What is it?” – Dev.
“Cruel Disappointment. I could cast Cruel Disappointment on an entire house.” – Sins. Surprise surprise, right?
“Look at PG’s face!” – LD, noticing my confused expression.
“I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to even play that, but hey, we can give it a go!”

Xander sees the beast and feels something he hasn’t felt properly in quite a while, just the very first onset of fear, not so much for himself, but for the situation his new friends have found themselves in. Recognising the very real danger, he pulls out yet another magical trick, reinforcing their resolve and hardening their flesh before striding up to the flaming creature shield first, hammer gripped tightly.

Xander casts Last Gasp, which prevents him and his allies from dropping beneath 1HP for a whole turn. It burns a fair bit of Soulfire, and is really of limited use, but if you think you might get hit with a one-shot kill, it can save some lives.

“Okay, Sins, you’re up.”
“Cruel Disappointment on the house. And, I cast it.” – Sins, rolling and succeeding.
“I really don’t know how…” – Rolling the Willpower Check to resist and failing horribly. I just dissolve into laughter. I can hear LD screaming for no apparent reason in the recording.
“I think after this I need to retire Kel. I will never be able to top this.” – Sins, laughing.

The three Helvetilds coming up the road approach Harold, who still looks like a young man.

“What happened to the house!?” – The lead Helvetild, who can’t see the figure inside, only the inferno.

Dev gets a bit weird here. He says something like, “I am sooooo high, I have no idea bruh?” in what was, quite possibly, the most cringe-worthy impersonation of a stoned teenager I have ever seen or heard, before bursting into hysterical laughter, along with most everyone else.
“Roll that Charm Check Dev.” – Sins.
The bastard rolls a 03, which is something like 7 degrees of success for Harold.
“Today is a good day for the party, but the worst possible day for PG. I’ve made the house lose the will to live, but Dev did one better. Dev actually made the campaign lose the will to live.” – Sins.

“I am so high, I have no idea.” – Harold, actually able to pass himself off as under the influence of some narcotic.

“So am I!” – One of the Helvetilds at the rear, a young boy with sandy hair under his hood. The other two don’t share the other’s enthusiasm.

“The bloody house is on fire! And what the **** is that!?” – Lead Helvetild, who seems older than the others they have seen.

He is, of course, referring to the gigantic figure which has just reach a flaming wooden hand out towards Xander and attempted to crush the Feartarbh, who rocks under the blow, grimacing under his shield.

“It probably looks like Heaven vs Hell in that house.” – Yohan, musing.
“Kind of, except in this case, Heaven also looks like a massive horned beast.”

“Okay Delphi, you’re up.”
“I’m going to try and Snare the mother****er and then Illusory Pit the mother****er.” – Delphi.
“This poor house is going to be driven insane. First it is having an existential crisis, so it just thinks it is a normal house, then it starts falling. And it’s just going to be like, ‘What is everything?’ I’m actually legitimately feeling sorry for this daemon. All it wanted to do was help a few kids destroy the world and we are breaking its mind.” – Yohan.
“Wait a minute, so if the house fails the roll to resist the Snare, due to Cruel Disappointment, it is going to think it succeeded… So, how does that work?” – Sins.
“See this is where I got stuck earlier when you said you wanted to Disappoint it earlier. Like dude, it’s a house. What is it going to do? ‘They sold me. They don’t want me anymore.’ I don’t know!” – To the ‘aww’s’ of disappointment from Ladyhawk and LD.
“See that is depressed house. Disappointed house would just be bemoaning not getting the kitchen wall repainted.” – Sins.

Aeva throws yet another Snare down, but if it has any effect she cannot tell.

Breanna thinks about it and decides to try something. She focuses and tries to harness some of the obviously daemonic entity’s power for herself. It roars in recognition at what she is doing and starts to stride toward her.

“I’m going to try and drain it.” – LD.
“Okay, roll over its Willpower. Good luck, it’s really high.”
“Just some casual boasting there.” – Ladyhawk.
“Not boasting at all. A warning, rather.”
“94!” – LD, triumphant.

The creature shrinks in size by about half a foot after Breanna’s mental attack, and the fires around it lose a degree of intensity. Now of course, it is the Leathe it sees as the main threat and it moves past Xander, intending to hit the little assassin.

Harold mutters a quick incantation and a couple of molten silver arrows fly out of the blade of his sabre, killing the lead Helvetild immediately. He then beats the other two unconscious and hides the bodies in the undergrowth.

After using the Silver Arrow Rune Tremor inscribed upon his sabre many moons ago, Dev was going to have Harold kill all three of the Helvetilds.
“Dev, are you killing children again?” – LD.
“Yeah.” – Dev, unrepentant.
“No! Come on Dev! Don’t do that, I need to ask them if they know anything about my parents.” – Delphi.
“They’re kids. People can be helped. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘good’ character?” – Yohan, who obviously doesn’t know Harold that well. He then makes a sound which honestly sounded a little bit like he was breaking internally.
“Okay fine, I want to use Deathsword to knock them out.” – Dev.
“Different use of the Deathsword ability, but okay…”
“Calm down there mate.” – Dev, jokingly to Yohan.
“Argh! I just don’t get how you thought you were Chaotic Good?” – Yohan.
“Yeah in hindsight, not sure why I thought that either…” – Dev, thoughtful.

This conversation continued a little longer as Dev rolled Damage.
“These kids are probably not all evil. A few of them might be daemon worshippers, but I don’t think all of them are.” – Yohan.
“They’re just doing it to be edgy. Cause it’s the cool thing to do.” – Ladyhawk, nodding in agreement.
“It’s like a cult of ‘dab-ers’ and you’re killing them.” – LD.
“Ah, even I would probably kill a cult of dab-ers though. No offence intended. Anyway, point is, that kid you just killed might have just been part of the club cause it was the cool thing to do, and now you have to go knock on his mother’s door and tell her what happened here.” – Yohan.
“Haha, no I won’t.” – Dev, laughing.
“Yes, you will. I will drag you.” – Yohan, also laughing. I am pretty sure they were just joking about this.

Maebh smashes the creature with a torrent of magical water, causing it to roar in pain and stagger back a few steps, steam billowing from its ephemeral form. It shrinks in size again, and is now about same size as Xander. Hurt and disoriented by Kel’Serrar’s curse, it is unable to retaliate, though it believes it has blasted them with a roiling blast of flame.

Xander smashes into the creature shield first, trying to get its attention again. His warhammer smashes into the wooden board the daemon is using as a chestplate and cracks a sizeable hole in it, which liquid fire spews out of, burning the Feartarbh’s arm.

Seeing the opening Xander has made, Kel’Serrar enchants another arrow and looses it directly at the daemon’s heart. 52 Damage here from Kel’Serrar, which is probably the highest damage we’ve had on a single target.

Breanna tries to siphon some of the daemon’s power again, but is unsuccessful. She feels something inside her overload and break as the power drains away.
LD failed her opposed Willpower Check by a lot and then ended up losing a Magic Level for five days.

Maebh hurls another blast of water at it, hurting it badly. The creature drops to its knees and shrinks again in a burst of steam, roaring in pain. Hunched over, it looks up at Maebh, infernal flames billowing from the eyesockets of the skull forming its head. Flames blast forth from its mouth, but Maebh’s arcane shielding holds strong and Breana is able to dodge out of the way again, hissing in pain at the minor burns on her tail.

“Creature! Are you the one burning the houses down!?” – Aeva, trying to get some kind of answer from the daemon.

It stops roaring fire and then screams in agony and rage.

“RELEASE ME AND I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU WISH!” – A raging bellow from the daemon which sounds like fire and destruction unleashed over a millennia.

“You’re going to trust a daemon?” – Dev.
“Do we have anyone who could potentially bind it?” – Delphi, who is doing no such thing.
“Maybe Breanna.” – Ladyhawk.
“Just a warning, this thing was approximately Level 10 and she usually deals with Level 1’s and struggles with Level 2’s.”
“And I’m now Magic Level 1 for five days. So that’s a no.” – LD.

“Careful! It’s going to try and take someone!” – Breanna, who has a split second to warn the others to shield their minds.

Xander stops, eyes wide and starts to shake violently where he stands. The creature disappears, the fire goes out and all the burnt furniture and wooden boards, the skull, everything which made up its body falls to the floor, charred and ruined or even in ashes. The golden auras Xander willed into being flicker and fail.

Xander stops shaking.

Yohan burnt a heap of Luck Points from the entire party to try and resist the possession, but failed three times.

Xander’s mind is burning, and he is trapped within it.

The daemon sits there, deep in his mind, pulling the strings to control the Feartarbh’s body like a puppet. Bars of red-hot iron and pain manifest around him, confining him, burning him even as he rails against the entity which has captured him.

“I AM KHUBUDEYN AND YOU ARE MINE!” – Khubudeyn, the daemonic entity which has taken Xander over.

Xander turns to the party, eyes blazing with infernal flame.

“YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” – Xander, a blazing inferno roaring in voice. The possessed Feartarbh drops his shield and warhammer and draws the massive claymore on his back, and the blade bursts into dark flames.

Kel’Serrar tries to enchant an arrow with unnatural accuracy, but is obviously thrown off a little by the events of the night and loses control over the casting. Grimacing as a cold wind blows through the area, Kel’Serrar fights off the headache from the arcane backlash and looses one of his three armour-piercing bodkins straight at Xander’s heart. The arrow hits home and rips straight through the Feartarbh’s heavy armour, almost dropping him.

We’ve finally met something Kel can’t drop in one hit. He did do 22 Damage with a single shot, and that’s after the 8 negated by Xander’s Toughness.

Locked in the confines of his own mind, Xander can’t help but lose himself in the ancestral rage of his bloodline. He smashes his fists against the mental cage the daemon has trapped him in and roars his anger and frustration to the daemon’s mocking laughter.

“No! I can save him! Don’t kill him!” – Maebh, brain working overtime to try and contain this situation.

“Feel free to do so. I’m going to keep shooting him until he goes down though.” – Kel’Serrar, calling back and nocking another arrow.

“So what’s your plan Ladyhawk? Cause I’m not that keen on dying.” – Yohan.
“I’m thinking Remove Curse, and if I pump it full of Soulfire it might be enough to just rip the daemon out.” – Ladyhawk.
“Will that work?” – Yohan.
“Sounds painful.” – LD.
“Yep, it can definitely work, and yes, it will probably hurt.”
“I’ve got a fair bit of the daemon’s own power I’ve drained from it. I can Channel that to you Ladyhawk.” – LD.
“Problem is, I’ve got to get up close and grab him cause the spell is on touch.” – Ladyhawk, who obviously doesn’t want to get too close to Xander and his now flaming claymore.
“I’ve got sedation bolts. Might work.” – LD.

Breanna darts forward, knowing that her little handcrossbow is not going to even get close to getting through Xander’s heavy plate armour, and so she darts forward, ducking under the possessed Feartarbh’s swing and flinging herself up and into her saddle. From point-blank range she pulls the trigger and watches the little bolt sink into the slab of muscle that is Xander’s neck.

Harold leaves the gate and starts sprinting towards Xander, blades in hand. He knows he is unlikely to get close enough, but figures he is more likely to be able to withstand a blow than any of the others.

“I am sick of daemons! Come attack me creature!” – Harold, brandishing the Gilded Sword.

The beast stops laughing and contemplates Harold, and Xander can see that its attention is drawn by the golden blade the Invarrian holds.

“That, would be a worthy prize…” – Khubudeyn, musing to itself.

Listening to this was quite interesting, as Yohan did his best to come up with something the party could do to put Xander down without Maebh using any Soulfire.

Aeva/Hawk pumps herself full of arcane energy and increases her size by an order of magnitude, now almost the size of a Warden Eagle with a nine foot wingspan and swoops down, grasping Breanna in her talons and pulling her clear of the rampaging daemon/Xander.

Xander forces the bars of the cage open and charges Khubudeyn, wrestling with the daemon for control of his body. For a moment, he is himself again, burned and bloodied, but he knows that it is only momentarily. He has only a few seconds.

Xander hurls his claymore as far as he can away from himself and then drops to his knees, hoping his companions will be able to kill him before he kills them.

And Kel’Serrar looses, an arrow flashing into Xander’s hip, punching through the Feartarbh’s armour, this time just a normal arrow.

“Aeva! Fly me down! I need to be able to touch him!” – Breanna, to Aeva/Hawk, who turns and swoops down again.

Breanna holds a furry hand out and for split second her hand brushes over the back of Xander’s head. The moment she feels contact, she pours all the magic she can into him, trying to force him into a magical coma.

Because Xander was able to suppress the daemon, this was resolved against Xander’s Willpower and he failed. Kuhbudeyn is now trapped inside Xander’s unconscious body.

“WHAT IS THIS!?” – Kuhbudeyn, throwing Xander’s consciousness away and raging against the forced lethargy Breanna has inflicted upon them.

Xander smiles tiredly, battered in the depths of his mind, and is trapped once more in a cage of red-hot iron.

Harold moves up with Maebh, ready to pull her away if Xander stirs. The Danann rests a slender hand on the Feartarbh’s head and prepares to receive Soulfire from Aeva, Breanna and what little Kel’Serrar has left.

Maebh burns more than 70 Soulfire to try and get enough bonuses to pull Kuhbudeyn out of Xander.

“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!” – Kuhbudeyn, screaming as Maebh starts to exert her inexorable will over it. All Xander can do is watch and roar in pain as the daemon is forcefully ripped from his mind. It tries to grab hold of him as she pull it loose, and he can feel its claws tearing his consciousness into shreds.

“Kel, throw me your coin!” – Breanna, who has just been set down by Aeva.

The ranger pulls out one of the Three Coins and hurls it to the Leathe, who pulls her own out and then fishes around in Maebh’s pack to get hers too. Now with all of the coins, Breanna latches onto the dark tendrils and tries to split the daemon across them. The coins in her hands are starting to glow and burn with power.

Harold grabs Maebh around the waist and hurls her away, blades still held to threaten Xander just in case he makes a move. At the moment though, the Feartarbh is just shaking and convulsing on the ground.

Success. LD is able to completely bind Kuhbudeyn in the coins.

“Did it work Bree?” – Kel’Serrar, who has moved up to join the other companions near the prone Feartarbh.

“I’m sorry?” – Breanna, still panting.

“Did it work? Can I start patching him up?” – Kel’Serrar, still with arrow on his bowstring.

Wordlessly, Breanna nods. The coins in her hands burn hot and then slowly, start to cool. And then, thirty seconds later, a collective roaring groan can be heard, faintly emanating from the coins.

Kel’s Cruel Disappointment ended here.

Aeva, Maebh and Kel set to trying to patch up the unconscious Xander, and are able to remove the arrows and staunch the bleeding, but it is some time before the Feartarbh awakens from his dark dreams.

Xander cops an Insanity with six degrees of failure on the Willpower Check.

“I’m glad we didn’t kill you.” – Ladyhawk, with a hand on Yohan’s shoulder.

Maebh finds a cart in the barn, and Harold and Kel’Serrar replace the broken wheel with only a little bit of swearing. With a lot of straining, the companions struggle to bundle Xander and the two unconscious Helvetilds into the cart and Aeva takes the form of a seilbak to draw it back to the town. They leave Lysirkel Estate in flames behind them.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
So the next session stays in Southreach, trying to find some information about Aeva’s family and to determine what this presence is in Southreach’s keep.

We still have Session 6.2 to come, and Session 6.3 is being played this Sunday.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2017-01-26, 05:59 AM
Session 6.2: There and Back Again

”...Whatever those companions found in that keep, it was not of this world. Flesh rotted and simply died under its touch. Flames would gutter and die. It was as if all life simply suffocated in its presence. How they managed to kill the thing, no one knows…
- From the records of the Southreach guardhouse on the events of the 30th Day of Secondmonth, the year 1649 of the Common Era.

Welcome to Session 6.2: There and Back Again.

The companions head back to Southreach and Xander wakes up along the way, insisting on walking. The guards at the north gate try to stop them, but one look at Xander is enough to make them reconsider. The evil amulet is rolled up tightly in the tarp-bag Aeva manufactured for it, and lies in the bottom of the cart.

They all go and find beds, except Harold, who sits up in the common room of the Old Speckled Hen, drinking himself into a stupor, and Aeva who awakens the unconscious Helvetilds in the cart first and interrogates them, but they aren’t able to give her any important information.

None of the companions know what happened to the captured youths, and none of them dare to ask…

* * *

The next morning the weather has made a turn for the worse, grey and overcast with a promise of cold rain in the clouds above. The companions gather at their table in the Old Speckled Hen, tucking into a breakfast. Xander is much the worse for wear, various injuries packed with bandages and concoctions to try and ward away infection. Despite this he is putting away a prodigious amount of food with what appears to be pained enthusiasm.

Harold is eating far less, having drunk far too much the night previous.

“As much as I want to help you find your family Aeva, I think this thing Kel’s told us about in the keep is too important to leave behind us.” – Xander, breaking the bad news to the disappointed Selkye.

“With that in mind, I think this presence in the Craftsmen DistrictAeva told us about may be more important again.” – Maebh, concerned.

“That’s a good point.” – Xander, head in his hands.

“After all that presence in the keep is just there, and for now at least, minding its own business. Whatever that entity was in the craftsmen district is probably connected with the Helvetilds and was in the open where people can stumble across it.” – Maebh, eating an apple.

“Quiet, I’m trying to listen.” – Kel’Serrar, under his breath as he slips into a trance.

The thing in the castle, whatever it was, is gone.

“It is gone. No idea where it is now.” – Kel’Serrar, snapping back to reality.

“Not good.” – Breanna, quietly.

“This daemon in the Craftsmen District, you think it is connected to the Helvetilds?” – Aeva, upset.

“Yes, seems logical.” – Maebh, as Breanna nods.

“Right, let’s go then.” – Aeva, who then physically pushes an inebriated Harold to the door.

Harold seems to have been hit pretty hard by the finality of losing his travelling drinking companion in Tremor. It has taken some time, but it would seem the grief has finally come around.

* * *

Southreach predominantly exports leather, and so the Craftsmen District smells foul due to all the tanneries. The sky overhead still looks ominous as the companions make their way to where the spirits inform Aeva this entity has been focusing its power.

There is a small patch of ground which is completely pitch black, and a shrub nearby which looks like it has been choked of all life. Nothing grows in the blackened earth. Breanna bends down to examine the ground.

“Whatever this was, it is related to the thing we fought last night. It isn’t the same though… If last night’s daemon was fire, this one is death… This is where it came into our world. Right here, on this very patch of ground, in the shadow of the curtain wall.” – Breanna, musing to herself.

“So it isn’t here anymore… But this is where it… was born?” – Xander, trying to wrap his mind around this.

“Yes. About two weeks ago… It is a daemon of death. It wants to take lives and steal life-force, but there’s no trail to follow.” – Breanna, still half to herself.

“Not true. It takes lives you say? We need to find records of people who have died in Southreach over the last two weeks. Any strange deaths we may be able to attribute to this thing.” – Maebh, shaking the crouching Leathe by the shoulder.

The companions find a guardsman and ask about any records of deaths in the town.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that personally as I am on duty. All records are kept in the guardhouse in the keep though. The captain of the guard should be on duty down by the docks. You can ask him for a key.” – Young guardsman, inexplicably nervous.

The companions decide to hang asking for a key and figure that any door or lock they find won’t be able to withstand their combined power.

* * *

Aeva pauses at the gateway before entering the keep and tries to commune with the spirits in the area. The spirits around the castle are few and they are scared, unwilling to come and talk to the druid for fear of being seen by the entity nearby.

And while the creature is not in the keep at the moment, it is surely nearby, possibly even waiting for the companions to enter before springing its trap…

A wounded and weary Xander advances to the guardhouse doorway, shield and warhammer in hand. Breanna sits on his shoulder, crossbow in hand, and Aeva/Hawk sits on one of his horns. Harold comes next, sabre and arming sword drawn, and then Maebh and Kel’Serrar last, their own weapons ready too.

As soon as the Feartarbh opens the door they hear a commotion from several storeys above in the keep, and then, a distant, muffled howl. Before them, the guardhouse appears scarcely used, dust coating most of the surfaces. The archives lay in the next room beyond a pitch-black doorway. Row upon row of parchments sit in dusty shelves, only barely illuminated by the golden flames burning fitfully in Maebh’s upraised hand. They swiftly browse through them, trying to find recent reports of deaths.

Breanna finds a map of the town, and then starts to mark down the locations of all the deaths which have occurred in the last few weeks. In the end, she has made seven marks on the map, all of which are spread around the township, save for one in Breddvind: Aeva’s family’s house.



1st Death: On the Twelfth-day of Secondmonth 1649 CE, the body of a 22-year-old female Northmann was found by guardsmen under the curtain wall to the north on the very edge of the Craftsmen District. It appears she fell from the wall.
2nd Death: On the Thirteenth-day of Secondmonth , the body of a 67-year-old male Northmann was found in his house, which lies on the northern border of the main Residential District, by his family. Cause of death unknown.
3rd Death:On the Fifteenth-day of Secondmonth , a family of four Dwergar, two adults and two children, were found deceased in their home in the Residential District, next to the Old Speckled hen Tavern. All appear to have suffocated, but no cause could be found. Area was quarantined for several days, but no repeat occurrences led to the reopening of the area.
4th Death:On the Twentieth-day of Secondmonth , the body of a 9-year-old female Northmann was found under the first pier of the docks. It is believed she drowned.
5th Death:On the Twenty-second-day of Secondmonth , the body of a young girl, likely Selkye, was found in the burnt-out remains of a house in the fishing village of Breddvind, to the south of Southreach proper. It is believed she perished in the fire. The location and fate of the other inhabitants, remains unknown.
6th Death:On the Twenty-third-day of Secondmonth , the body of a 22-year-old male Dwergar guardsman was found in the southern-most tower of the southern curtain wall. His throat was slashed, probably by a knife. No leads on the potential murder as yet.
7th Death:On the Twenty-fifth-day of Secondmonth , the body of a 12-year-old maleNorthmann was found under the tower on the southern-most edge of the keep-wall. It appears he fell from the wall, although some strange injuries were present around the eyes and mouth.

One little spirit dares to come inside and flit around Aeva’s head, imploring her to leave. It doesn’t want her there. She is in danger.

“Discounting Aeva’s family, it has basically just done a crescent if all these are connected. The burning seems to be unique among all of these, and these Helvetilds are supposed to do that.” – Maebh, putting it all together.

“I managed to get that much out of our captives. The burning was the Helvetilds. This thing looks like it is killing independently.” – Aeva, downcast.

“Quiet, I need to concentrate again.” – Kel’Serrar, slipping into a trance once more.

Above, something is raging, moving at great speed. It is large, and does not seem to be alive.

“It’s coming, it’s coming! Move, move, move!” – Kel’Serrar, snapping out of his trance and taking position right at the doorway, arrow nocked and ready.


Remember those two rings Kel’Serrar and Breanna picked up from the Ravnsalm Vaults? Remember how I couldn’t come up with anything to give them, and just copped out and said I’d come up with something later?

I came up with something.

What we decided was that those rings might just be able to do anything. If in a situation, like this one, LD and Sins can tell me if they want to see if their ring might be enchanted to help them out. They roll a D10 and I tell them if that was high enough to reveal that the ring does what they want it to do.

A bit cheap, but it worked well enough. LD uses that here.
“I want to try and find out what this thing is and how powerful it is. Can I see if my ring will help with that? A ring of daemonic sensing if you will.” – LD.
“You certainly may. What did you roll?”
“6” – LD.
“Congratulations, you have a Ring of Daemonic Sensing.” – With a laugh.

Breanna tries to focus on the entity rampaging through the castle above them, trying to determine what it is and just how powerful it might be. The ring on her finger blazes to life and helps her concentrate as her mind encounters the daemon.

“Ah ****. It is at least as powerful as the one we fought last night.” – Breanna, preparing herself as best she can.

“How long do we have?” – Xander, gruffly.

“Thirty seconds, give or take.” – Breanna, the terse reply.

“More powerful than the other one! ****!” – Delphi.
“We dealt with the other one perfectly well.” – Dev, laughing.
“Yeah, no we didn’t.” – Delphi.
“Well no one died.” – Yohan.
“About that, you’re welcome.” – Ladyhawk, laughing.
“Someone died….”
“No one died PG. No one died.” – Sins.
“Oh right, someone did die. He only died cause of Dev though.” – Yohan.
“I choose to believe that the important thing is that none of us died.” – Dev.

Maebh takes a second to try and replenish her reservoir of magical energy. She knows that last night’s exertions took a lot out of her and another encounter of that magnitude might see her stripped entirely of power. Over the last year she has been able to develop some control over her soulfire and now she uses this ability to try and accelerate the process. Better this exhausting process now than having to sacrifice precious life-force in the midst of battle.

Maebh has a Talent which allows her to make a Channelling Check once per day to try and squeeze a little more Soulfire out of herself in exchange for increasing the Casting Value of all her spells by +2 for a day. She uses that now, as the fight last session caused her to drop pretty low from her 115 Soulfire base.

Kel’Serrar’s arrow starts to glow with brilliant golden light, illuminating the room with power. Xander too glows with similar energy as he tries to shield the party and Maebh creates a wall of force between the party and where she assumes the entity will emerge before cloaking herself in golden lightning. Aeva takes the form of a dagger-lion and prepares a Snare, ready to drop it somewhere the daemon will be affected by it.

A roiling black mass bursts from the ceiling, blasting all the companions with tendrils of dark force. Where the tendrils hit, flesh turns black and necrotises, metal rusts and leather wears through, as all the forces of entropy are brought to bear.

Kel’Serrar brings his bow up, arrow pulsing with golden light, and shoots, the most powerful arrow he has ever loosed. The missile flits through the air over the short distance between the ranger and the daemon, shining brilliantly in the cloying darkness and strikes home somewhere deep within the entity’s incorporeal form. After negation, the True Shot still cause over 40 Damage, and Stunned the daemon.

Seeing it hurt by Kel’Serrar’s arrow, Aeva tries to snare it with a pulse of ice-blue magic and manages to get ahold of it, but only for a short moment.

That is all the opportunity Maebh needs to blast the creature with bolts of golden lightning and the creature is repulsed again, blasting into the archive and causing records to go flying, or even simply disintegrate. Xander follows it, as is his wont, with shield and hammer at the ready. He tries to hit the ephemeral being, but can’t seem to pin it down.

Harold meanwhile finds that he has, without realising it, drawn the Gilded Sword. Knowing what he must do, he calls upon the latent powers within himself, that have been there, dormant in his blood for many ages, since the very first Invarrians travelled to Varr and the first Stormlord calmed the tempests surrounding the island. Harold pushes, and there it is, control of the Bri that force which governs the weather and allows practitioners to master it. The Gilded Sword glows in his hand and then discharges a bolt of lightning at the creature, causing it to recoil yet again.

Maebh charges in with her spear in hand, the same spear gifted to her by Aeva, and attempts to strike the daemon, which is still stunned by the sheer force of Kel’Serrar’s arrow, but she too is unable to find any purchase with the spear-blade.

“So this thing has huge modifiers to hit right? Because it is ethereal?” – Sins.
“Yes that is correct.”
“Can I see if my ring is a ring of, say, Ethereal Striking? I rolled a 9.” – Sins.
“Congratulations, you get a Ring of Ethereal Striking!”

Kel’Serrar, Xander and Harold all attempt to hit the creature, but only Kel’Serrar’s arrows seem to have any effect. The most effective thing they do though is actually Breanna’s flurry of dart spells, which must punch into something vulnerable. It roars in anger at the companions, and even the walls themselves seem to shake. Seeing this, Aeva hurls a magical dart at it too and the creature tries to retreat through the back wall of the archive.

It pulses again with dark magic and all the companions are hit again with necrotising magic, which this time causes significant damage to them all. Even Xander is close to falling now.

And then the rage blinds him once more, and Breanna is almost thrown loose by the Feartarbh’s bone-crushing charge. Both of them take yet more damage as Xander practically dives into the ethereal entity, hammer swinging wildly. The Feartarbh takes the heavy hit, and Breanna is forced to react in a split second, leaping out of the saddle, and only just avoiding being completely eviscerated.
Breanna is on 4 Health at the moment.

But it is Maebh’s wall of aethyric blades summoned right in the depths of the monster which causes the daemon to try and flee. It has already shrunk noticeably in size, getting weaker the more they chip away at it, and now able to move and react clearly again, it tries to escape. It mentally probes at all of them, searching for a weakness, and then flings a tendril out at Aeva, knocking her on her side before trying to force an opening into her mind. Snarling, she mentally wards it away, but her side is marked by the daemon’s touch, fur and flesh slowly rotting. The dagger-lion which is Aeva roars and pounces into the middle of the entity, trying to find purchase with her enchanted claws.

Between the two of them, Aeva and Xander are able to cause some kind of damage to the creature which gives out a primordial roar and unleashes a massive wave of force at them, knocking both of them over and stunning Kel’Serrar and Breanna. Harold focuses once more and unleashes another lightning bolt from the Gilded Sword which strikes the centre of the daemon directly.

The daemon flickers, shrieks and then disappears through the hole in the ceiling, coils of black smoke and dark magic still permeating the air. All around the room are splatters of a dark, viscous fluid, still wisping and sparking with the daemon’s power.

“Surely it has to be dead?” – Harold, panting, his sword still smoking in his grasp.

“No, ‘tis only running.” – Maebh, hefting her spear and preparing to chase it.

She is taken-aback however by Xander’s enraged bellow as the badly wounded Feartarbh smashes a hole straight through the stone wall separating the guardhouse from the rest of the keep. Hammer flailing wildly, Xander widens the gap and ploughs on through into the throne room which has long since been abandoned, save for the six automatons, stone statues bearing large black halberds. They turn their ornately carved heads to face the oncoming Feartarbh, heft their polearms and step down from their podiums.

They still seem to love discussing how to bring Xander down.
“Breanna would be the one with the best chance.” – Yohan.
“I could.” – Sins, quietly.
“How would Breanna be the one with the best chance?” – Ladyhawk, curious.
“Xander has really low Willpower and Sleep checks against Willpower. She can magically coma me and then slit my throat.” – Yohan.
“I have to get close enough to touch you first, and I’m currently on practically no Health, so I don’t think that’s happening.” – LD.
“How would you take Xander down?” – Dev, to Sins.
“An Aimed True Shot with my armour-piercing bodkins. Should just about one-shot anything.” – Sins, who is probably correct.
“Personally think Aeva would cause troubles too. Snare keys off Willpower as well, and can be cast at range. Go lion and cast Snare, doing as much damage to an immobilised target as possible. When Snare wears off, go bird to get out of range and Snare again and go lion once more. Rinse and repeat until dead.”
“No range weapons would make that pretty nasty. Can Aeva get through Xander’s shielding spells though?” – Yohan.
“Aeva can actually dispel those shields, and for much less Soulfire than it costs to cast them. So yes.” – Delphi.

Instead of immediately following the Feartarbh, Meabh and Kel’Serrar sit down to try and perform some kind of first aid on themselves and the others. Kel’Serrar has to pull out a knife and start gouging chunks of flesh away from where the daemon has made contact with their skin to prevent the necrosis from spreading. Maebh then uses her flames to cauterise the wounds before the two of them apply bandages. They are able to get the process done quite quickly, save for Harold’s injuries, which the still inebriated Invarrian insists on seeing to himself. He quickly botches it, his shaking hand accidentally pushing the knife a little too far into his flesh, carving away a bit more flesh than he needed to.

Harold’s Heal Check on himself was pushed to over 100 due to the effects of the alcohol, so he takes 1 Damage.

It was here that I in fact took 1 Damage myself in real life. I have an allergy to peanuts, and the group cracked out the peanut m&m’s at this point in time. I copped a fair whiff of it and my throat started closing up. I had to step out of the room for a couple of minutes and get some fresh air and a drink.

“If I killed PG, I’m going to be very upset.” – Delphi.
“He doesn’t look too good. Peanuts get him pretty badly.” – Dev, as I am retching outside on the other side of the glass door.
“I’m worse, which reminds me, I should find my epi-pen.” – LD, leaving the room herself.
“Is anyone here medically trained other than me?” – Yohan.
“I did scouts for like three years?” – Delphi.
“That doesn’t count.” – Yohan.
There is silence for some time until LD re-enters the room.
“You lost The Game.” – LD, who is a real bitch.

Xander crashes into the first automaton, knocking it to the floor and smashing it apart with a few savage blows from his hammer. He then turns aside a thrust from another automaton and delivers a similar swift end to it as well.

Breanna, having been patched up by Maebh and Kel’Serrar, is the first to follow Xander through the hole. She avoids the automatons deftly, and for their part, they are still far too focused on the immediate threat of Xander to be too concerned about her. Coming upon the sumptuous, but dusty and long abandoned throne, the Leathe notices a dripping from above, that same dark liquid. Using her ring once more she is able to determine that this liquid is essentially the daemon’s blood, and that touching it would probably be a bad idea. The fact that it is dripping from the ceiling suggests that the daemon is above, likely trying to reform itself.

Aeva comes into the room next, padding around still in the shape of a dagger-lion. She takes up a position behind Xander, hoping to stay out of the combat unless he gets flanked. As she does this, the remaining four statues close in on the Feartarbh.
“The four statues converge upon Xander.”
“No.” – Yohan, deadpan.
“Yes.” – Both Dev and I.
Only two of the automatons manage to hit Xander, but both strikes are deflected by his aethyric shielding with flashes of golden light.
Xander actually negates a strike of 24 Damage here completely. He is truly an obscene tank at this stage in the game.

And then Maebh strides in and encases all four of the automatons in golden ice, locking them in place.

“Please hurry up and smash them. I don’t know how long I can hold them all.” – Maebh, sounding like she could hold them in place all day if she had to. A slight trickle of blood drips from her nose, but she doesn’t notice.

Kel’Serrar rolls his eyes seeing Harold’s failure at self-administered first-aid and practically forces the Invarrian to sit still and accept medical aid.
Sins rolls well enough that Kel actually fixes things wrong with Harold that Harold didn’t even know were hurting him, pushing the Invarrian back up to full health.

Xander smashes through the immobile statues in a matter of seconds, charges the throne and smashes that too before looking for some stairs to get to the daemon once more. The others can only look on in bemusement.

“Xander, calm down!” – Maebh, hoping to get some sense out of the thing.

“WE NEED TO KILL IT!” – Xander, lost in his rage.

“Xander, please, I need to find my family. If we follow this thing we might die.” – Aeva, back in her natural form and quite shaken by the whole experience.

“We followed the deaths here Aeva! Your sister’s death led us here! WE KILL IT NOW!” – Xander, howling his triumph as he finds the stairway to the next floor.

Back shortly. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2017-01-26, 06:12 AM
And we return. :smallsmile:

The companions follow him up the stairs and from there to the very top of the tallest tower of the entire keep, struggling to keep pace with the Feartarbh, even with the severe injuries he has withstood.

Eventually they come to the highest room of the tallest tower, where a shadowy figure, approximately the height of a Northmann stands before a huge glass window, back turned to the companions coming up the stairs. Xander doesn’t even break stride, striking at the figure with his hammer, but the daemon flickers out of existence as the hammer passes through where it stood.

Breanna takes out the Three Coins and tries to pull the daemon’s essence into them, draining it of power. Doing so diminishes it substantially, leaving it a small, smoking lump on the floor, which flicks a tendril of power out in retaliation. Breanna dodges aside and Xander takes the strike with his shield, ignoring the slight pain it gives him. The Feartarbh roars with rage and smashes it with his hammer, leaving a black paste on the floor. Breanna tries again, and the paste appears to be sucked straight into the coins.

To the touch, one side of each coin is burning hot, the other deathly cold.

We had a bit of discussion with regards to Xander Raging and whether or not that should mean that he should charge the coin, which is of course where the daemon is now hiding. Of course if he does that, the wounded Breanna is in the way and most likely dead.

Which then lead to more discussion on how the Guardian spells work, namely that they work on allies, but if forced to deal damage to an ally through Rage, would that ally no longer be considered an ally, and so therefore no longer affected by the spells.

We decided that spells which required active concentration would probably be dropped as soon as Rage is entered, whereas just flat “Remains in Play” spells would probably continue to act as normal.

It would seem that Southreach was the preying ground of two separate daemons, and now both have been defeated and then trapped by the companions. Aeva contacts the spirits in the area, informing them that the time of fear is now over and they can go about their tasks without danger. The spirits pass on their gratitude to the companions and lay a blessing upon them.

Every character picks up a Luck Point as the spirits’ reward for helping them. At this stage, a reward far more useful than loot.

The next three days pass quite uneventfully as the companions do their best to try and lay low and recover from their recent trials. Maebh and Harold both explore the castle in their downtime, looking for anything interesting.


Harold: The Invarrian spent a few hours searching the keep for items of interest. He uncovered some old scrolls written in ancient Invarrian and beneath the throne-room, an oubliette filled with desiccated corpses of various races and ages, evidence of a particularly cruel lord who once ruled here. He also finds a small stash of coinage, which is split equally amongst the party.

There’s also an armoury, long abandoned, but the equipment within is still of a high quality.
- Bastard sword with a storm rune. (Maebh)
- Longbow carved with the symbol of a Danann god of war. (Kel’Serrar)
- Masterwork silvered dagger. (Breanna)
- Large kite shield with runes of strength. (Xander)

Ladyhawk took the sword and promptly forgot all about it, Sins didn’t want the bow, concerned about the (un)holy carvings upon it, LD took the dagger and probably forgot all about it too and Yohan decided to equip two shields for combat, figuring he doesn’t do that much damage anyway, may as well get an extra Parry.

Maebh: The Danann restricted her searching to the nights, and kept it secret from the other companions. She knew of this castle, and of a particular item which should have been hidden here, a mirror, of sorts, one which did not reflect the material world but rather another one, where the Gods slumbered. She searched high and low, but was unsuccessful.

The mage resolved to return when all this was done. She had unfinished business here.

Aeva spends her time communicating with spirits and forming a bond between them and her companions. Over the course of the three days she grants a wisp to each of the company, which will watch over them and be able to inform her if any of them are in need or danger.

Aeva never reveals to them that these wisps were actually ‘birthed’ from her…

* * *

Dev decides he doesn’t like the fact that Ladyhawk is taking an interest in this castle and so resolves to give it away as quickly as possible. He finds the captain of the town’s guard, an irascible veteran of several wars by the look of him.

The conversation does not go well. Harold begins by telling him to take the castle now it is cleared out and declare his rule. When the captain does not agree to this, Harold tries to intimidate him into it.

“Who do you think you are to come here and tell us how to run our town? We have a system, and it works for us. Now bugger off.” – Captain Ulfrum.

“Why the captain of the guard? What makes him suitable for rule?” – Ladyhawk.
“Cause he is military. And cause he’s one of the few around here that the people would respect and obey.” – Dev, who you would not imagine from this is actually against ‘strong rule the weak,’ mentality.
“Surely there’s a village elder or something who you wouldn’t be forcing it upon?” – Ladyhawk, who is so close to just giving up on the whole thing.
“I’ll list all my titles and bring him around.” – Dev.

“I am the scion of the Oakenshields, champion of the late Stormlord and the First Reaver of Varr.” – Harold, hoping to get his way through personal connections.

“Aren’t you the lucky one? Pleased to meet you, I’m the Emperor of Drell. Now **** off.” – Ulfrum, sarcastic and thoroughly unimpressed.

And then Harold punches him in the face.

“Oh here we go.”
“I join in on the guards’ side.” – Ladyhawk.
“If I were there, I would be punching Harold in the face. You have to show some sort of respect to your superiors.” – Yohan.
“He isn’t my superior though.” – Dev.
“He is in this town. You’ve got no kind of jurisdiction here.” – Yohan.
“I’m a reaver. I’ve got jurisdiction anywhere.” – Dev.
“That attitude is exactly why I would be punching you in the face.” – Yohan, laughing.

“Get your arse in that castle, take the job and start cleaning up this mess.” – Harold.

“Take him to the dungeon lads.” – Ulfrum, rubbing his jaw where the Invarrian hit him. Four of his guards run forward, weapons threatening Harold.

“Deathsword to knock them all on their arses here.” – Dev.
“It’s okay, he’s not killing them, he’s just using Deathsword.” – Sins, sarcastic.

One of the guards manages to lay a hand on the Invarrian, and Harold throws him off without pause, completely contemptuous. The other three hang back now, concerned by the ease with which their comrade was despatched.

“Stop this ****! You’re all children!” – Xander, who has come roaring from where he was helping out on the docks.

“Eight successes on the Intimidation Check.” – Yohan.
“I roll to resist.” – Dev, who fails.
“Did he just… He did! He used a Luck Point to re-roll that!” – LD, as Dev burns some Luck to resist.
“I can’t believe you’re wasting your Luck on this.” – Ladyhawk, quietly.
“**** it. And…. I fail anyway.” – Dev.

The guardsmen still standing are edging away from the obviously furious Feartarbh and even Harold is given a moment’s pause. Ulfrum on the other hand still appears singularly unimpressed.

“Thank you. You’re not wrong, but mind your own business.” – Ulfrum, nodding to his men to continue trying to take Harold.

“This is my ally. He is my business. I know he’s probably being a prick, but we’ve had a trying few months.” – Xander, attempting to negotiate with the grizzled captain.

“Fine. Stand down men. And you, Invarrian, if you ever try to even talk to me again you are going to be locked the **** up.” – Ulfrum, signalling his men to stand down.

For his part, after the initial startle given to him by Xander’s sudden appearance, Harold looks keen and ready for a fight. It has been a good while now since his last real fight, the business with the daemons and the Helvetilds not really counting.

“Harold, not now. We can come back and deal with this when the world isn’t at stake. Better to walk away now than to have to bust yourself out of a dungeon.” – Xander, quietly to the Invarrian.

The duellist’s ears flick and he stands down.

* * *

The companions, minus Harold, travel west for around a week. Harold will meet them in Urik’s Landing with the Tide Tremor, but the others go overland in case Aeva’s family is on the road between the two towns. Eventually, they come upon a familiar sight. Well familiar for Maebh, Breanna and Kel’Serrar anyway. They approach the port-town of Urik’s Landing.

“Burn it to the ****ing ground!” – Dev.
“Time to put on my Dhara costume.” – Sins.
“Do you really want to do that?”
“No. Definitely not.” – Sins.


Last time the companions were able to kill a monstrous beastie and solve a murder mystery, killing the lord’s personal sorcerer into the bargain.
“We also killed a turnip.” – Ladyhawk, remembering the most important part of their time here.

For their entire journey, Aeva has been in constant contact with the spirits, entreating them to go on ahead and tell her family to wait and that she is on her way.

The eastern gate is guarded by two Northmenn with spears. The lord’s hall sits on a hill on the north-eastern edge of town. The guards inform the companions that if they wish to stay in Urik’s Landing they must sign into the ledgers of one of the two inns along the main road, and then allow them in. Despite the reasonably pleasant weather, the marketplace looks reasonably abandoned, presumably again due to the wars to the north.

They find Harold in the Blackmane Inn, enjoying a drink and a chat with the innkeeper, Alrik up at the bar. The other companions take a seat too, and Aeva asks the brown-furred Invarrian if he has seen any Selkye come into the town.

“There’s a family in the Irontusk Inn actually, arrived just a couple of weeks ago.” – Alrik, who is taken aback as Aeva drops everything and runs outside and across the road.

Ignoring the man sitting in the booth beside the inn’s door, Aeva dashes inside and sees some familiar faces. With a little scream of delight and a couple of quick dance steps the girl runs across the common room and embraces her father, who has stood from the table he shares with two other Selkye, a massive beaming grin on his face.

“Aeva!” – Aeva’s father, picking the slightly built girl up and spinning her around.

She disengages from her father and shifts to her mother and sister who have both stood as well.

“My sister’s alive?” – Delphi.
“Yes, she is. Sadly, the dog is not, but your sister is.”

Aeva’s father tells the Irontusk innkeeper to pour drinks for everyone, and the social war between the two eminent families of Urik’s Landing is postponed for a day as everyone enjoys the unlikely event which has just occurred in front of them. The drinks flow all afternoon and evening, and all share in the happiness of a family reunited in the midst of war and devastation.

Over the night, Aeva’s family shares the events of their flight, from the initial Wrothdar assault on the Nordur-Vatn lands during which they were separated and their escape north, as far as Nordtarnet for a time, hiding in the woods along the riverbank in the west of that realm. They tell her of their time in Southreach and the fishing village of Breddvind, of the months they spent there, trying to make a new life. By then, all those of their tribe they had travelled with had been picked off, by the cold, brigands, wolves or some unseen menace from the depths. They tell her of the death threats they received while living in Breddvind, made by a group who called themselves the Helvetilds.

They share a tale of fear and fire as the Helvetilds attacked in the middle of the night, lighting a blaze which consumed their home, their faithful hafhund and Aeva’s father’s apprentice. Lucky to escape with their lives, their flight began anew, and they braved the cold northern weather with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, fleeing the burning wreck of the short period of peace they just lost.

“But Father, all of this came about because the Wrothdar came down from the mountains those years ago. Why? How did this all start?” – Aeva, to her father, later in the night when most of the revellers had withdrawn. Her sister lies on the seat beside her, head in the druid’s lap, sleeping soundly, still smiling.

“How well do you remember the myths of our people my dear?” – Blaevar, Aeva’s father, quietly nursing his latest alcoholic beverage.

“Reasonably well. It has been some time since I heard them recited.” – Aeva.

“Do you recall the stafbrigdi around the village at the time of the attack?” – Blaevar, referring to a Selkic custom.


Every month, many Selkye paint symbols on doors and mantels with religious significance. These images usually make reference to events in the Selkye mythology, or pay homage to heroes or the Great Spirits.

“The World’s End...” – Aeva, realisation slowly dawning on her.

“A great wave sent by the Golden Eagle to destroy the world, yes. Before we fled, I observed a Wrothdar shaman come forward and perform a rite or a ritual over the site of our village, using our stafbrigdi as some kind of focus.” – Blaevar.

“Father, this event, it isn’t just a myth. The Invarrians have a prophecy regarding the same thing, a flood which will destroy the world.” – Aeva.

“I believe it. The power this shaman brought to bear… You cannot imagine it, the screams of the spirits as he tore them asunder to fuel his ritual. He bound it to a timeframe. This flood, it will occur on the Harvest Moon.” – Blaevar, staring into his ale.

It is clear that her father was quite shaken by the events of the fall of the Nordur-Vatn. After all, many of those spirits ruthlessly crushed were probably friends of a sort.

Blaevar is a Shaman himself, though not of any particular power. Aeva’s mother is a Druid, like her daughters, and quite powerful, though by this stage, Aeva herself is probably more so.

“Four weeks before the end of the world…” – Aeva, finishing her drink.

* * *

It is early the next morning and a slightly dishevelled group of companions in various stages of hangover have gathered in the Blackmane Inn.

“One month until the Harvest Moon.” – Aeva, obviously distressed.

“Do your peoples’ legends say anything about how to stop it?” – Xander.

Aeva shakes her head.

“The legend does say that the flood is sent by the Golden Eagle though, yes?” – Maebh.

Aeva nods.

“Elspeth’s sigil is a golden eagle on a field of blue.” – Kel’Serrar, quietly.

“Back to Summer Hill then? According to the Greyflood Prophecy, we’ll be seeing war in fields of Summer or something like that. Good chance Queen Esmerelda will be with her army.” – Harold.

“Or she’s a smart ruler and is safe in her castle, letting her army do the war part while she ends the world.” – Maebh.

“I would like to go back to Summer Hill myself.” – Kel’Serrar, not letting on his reasons.

Breanna at this stage is just sitting back eating a peach, happy to go with whatever the others choose.

“Do we have the time to do that? It will take at least two and a half weeks to get to Summer Hill and that is with the absolute best of luck and going through Morne. We’d be cutting it fine to get to Elspeth in time for the Harvest Moon if we’re wrong about her being in Summer Hill.” – Maebh.

“Did we ever find out what connection Dhara had to Elspeth?” – Sins.
“Only that she was the daughter of the mayoress of Summer Hill.”
“Dhara should be in Summer Hill then? We go to Summer Hill first, she needs to die.” – Ladyhawk.

“We need to take that risk. Remember, Elspeth cared enough about Summer Hill that they tried to summon the Lord of Winter to pave their way inside. Obviously it is important.” – Kel’Serrar.

“Okay, Summer Hill it is.” – Maebh, agreeing.

Breanna stands and throws what is left of her peach out a window.

“Let’s get a move on.” – Breanna.

I then reveal some of my very finest foreshadowing.
“The end of the Greyflood Prophecy guys, talks about the Devourer reaping a harvest.”
“The Harvest Moon. Of course!” – LD.
“And what was the name of Wilmund Brewer’s tavern in Summer Hill?”
“Oh you bastard!” – Sins, the first time I have actually seen him properly impressed by foreshadowing.
“Get out! Right now!” – Delphi.
“Harvest Wolf… Is that two references in one go cause of the Wolf King too? I hate you.” – LD.

The companions stand and get ready to leave, with one very notable exception.

“Come on Aeva, let’s go.” – Breanna, furry hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“I’m not coming Bree. I set out to find my family and, well, I’ve done that. In the process I’ve found out that the world is about to end. I have a month or so before we are all dead, and I have over a year of lost time with my family to catch up on.” – Aeva, quietly, but with finality.

“Aeva, come on. We need you with us.” – Harold.

“Don’t you see? We’re all going to die Harold! After all this time, after everything I went through to find them, we’re all going to die and it won’t mean anything! At least let me spend my last days with them. All I wanted was to find them again.” – Aeva, angry.

“Stay safe then Aeva, and may fortune smile upon you.” – Maebh, who then walks out, followed by the others, leaving Aeva behind.

The Wrap-Up:
A pretty good session, which wrapped up a few loose ends and really ramped up the pressure time-frame wise. Revealing all the harvest foreshadowing felt pretty good too after so many years.

Losing Delphi was a bit of a blow. Unfortunately she has some personal stuff happening at the moment that she felt needed to take the front seat and didn’t feel entirely comfortable juggling her time and efforts. Of course we wish her all the best for her future, and there remains some hope she will rejoin us one day, although I imagine that 3 Coins itself will be over by then.

So now we’re off, back to Summer Hill with the original band, plus a gigantic Feartarbh.

Hopefully I will have Session 6.3 up and ready to go before we play Session 6.4, but I can’t guarantee that at this stage.

Until then, suffice to say there will be corpsewalkers. Lots and lots of corpsewalkers.

Bye!

Phoenixguard09
2017-06-07, 05:55 AM
Session 6.3: Three Coins, No Birds and Two Gilded Swords

"...Having travelled back to where this all started and seeing it in ruins, I have to ask, have we actually ever succeeded in any of our goals? Everything we have done has played into this prophecy, each town we have "saved" has supposedly been ravaged in our wake.

We've left companions behind, not always even alive. We've ruined the hopes of a nation and left chaos where our goal was order. More than one king has met his end around us. Now we march willingly towards the end of the world. We've so many defeats behind us, but this next battle may be the only one that counts and if we succeed here then at least all we have lost along the way will have had some meaning.

Each of us fights for our own reasons and that will have to be enough. Naya willing, mine may even live to see another day..."
From the journal of Kel'Serrar Naya...

Welcome to Session 6.3.

The woods around Summer Hill come alive with unearthly screeching and the companions ready themselves.

We started this session with a huge set-piece battle, which I intended to have last for a lot longer than it did. I also expected it to be at least slightly more dangerous than it was…

From the woods to either side comes a handful of corpsewalkers, and an entire horde has appeared on the plains ahead. But that isn’t all of them.

“Careful, they’re coming from underground too!” – Kel’Serrar, whose keen ears have picked up the tell-tale scrabbling of tunnellers.

"This is rocks fall, everyone dies guys." - LD, mock upset.

For moment, the ranger disappears and then a slightly translucent copy appears some way to his right with sword in hand.

Kel uses a Mesmer spell which grants him Invisibility and creates a cloned copy which he can control. I don’t remember the name of the spell at this time.

Harold spurs Amadeus into action and draws his sabre, Bach darting along beside him. Arcane energies arc from the Invarrian’s sword, blasting a shrieking corpsewalker apart as Harold thunders into a clump of its compatriots.

Xander takes up his two shields and takes a central position on the centre of the road. He gives a great roar, and with some mental strain he manifests golden aethryic shielding around his allies. The Feartarbh shakes his head, the strain having caused him a headache and a slight nosebleed, and one eye is bloodshot with burst vessels.
“You’ve all been Xander-d.” – Yohan.

Breanna, riding Wolfgang charges in herself, knives flashing, corpsewalkers falling apart in their wake.

While her companions rush into combat, Maebh takes a moment to coalesce a shield of lightning around herself, and then manifest a wall of blades across the road, between the companions and the main horde of corpsewalkers on the plain ahead.

It doesn’t dissuade the attackers. Corpsewalkers are approaching in great numbers, from the woods all around and the plains ahead. Every moment the engagement lasts, even more are attracted by the sounds of battle and the smell of blood.

Fingertips worn to bone claws, hands stretch up from the ground, grasping at Xander, who crushes them without mercy. Another springs up from the ground beneath, tackling Breanna from Wolfgang, but the Leathe and the marcwolf turn on it and put it down in seconds.

Charging towards the glowing Feartarbh, a mass of growling and shrieking corpsewalkers hurl themselves into Maebh’s blades. Two get through with serious injuries, the others get minced. Those two are simply thrown aside by the hulking Xander.

And then they hear it, in the distance. Warhorns, signalling them to stand firm. Help is on the way.

Still mounted on Amadeus, Harold charges down three more corpsewalkers, blades flashing. On the other side of the road, Breanna and Wolfgang are able to put down another between them, but it is Maebh who causes the majority of the damage. A great storm manifests overhead as Maebh projects her power into the sky and golden lightning crashes down into the horde, a corpsewalker spontaneously immolating with each bolt. Within moments the corpsewalkers have been cleared off the road and the companions get just a little bit of time to reassess.

They can hear more of the walkers coming from either side of the road and of course the great horde approaches from the west. The lull is over all too quickly, and again the companions enter the fray, the sounds of blades puncturing flesh punctuated by the constant crashing of Maebh's lightning bolts.

One corpsewalker makes it through Maebh's bladewall and charges straight at Xander, claws outstretched.
"Well that's a mistake." - LD.
The Feartarbh plants his shields in the ground and the corpsewalker scrabbles desperately at the lacquered wood, with no success. A few more walkers force their way through the bladewall, and start to try and climb over the Feartarbh's shields and even more emerge from beneath the ground, two charging at Maebh and others swarming Xander and Kel'Serrar's illusory copy.

"Xander, push!" - Harold, scything through another corpsewalker as Bach pounces on another which was about to pull him out of the saddle.

Gritting his teeth, Xander takes a step forward, and then another, forcing the corpsewalkers back into Maebh's wall of golden spinning blades.

Harold passes a Command Check to give Xander an extra half-action to make a Strength Check to push the corpsewalkers into the Blade Wall. Very handy work from the team as a whole.
"I like this plan. Do you like this plan?" - Dev.
"It is a plan, that's for sure." - Yohan.
"Better than my plan. I'm just going one at a time here." - Sins.
"Still putting one down every ten seconds basically. That's pretty good."

Behind him, the illusion of Kel'Serrar is overwhelmed by a tide of walkers, but upon doing so they are put down by a flurry of arrows from the ranger's real position and lightning bolts from above.

I intended this combat to be a long set-piece full of imminent danger for the party. Unfortunately, they deal so much damage and Xander's high-level Guardian abilities mean that they're just about impossible to challenge, or even damage really, without magic or high explosives... Ah well. I ended up calling this combat off about halfway as it was abundantly clear that I was never going to get through their damage resistance. I was also rolling some absolute trash, which really didn't help.

On the plus side, I had quite a bit of fun rolling Wolfgang's attacks in tandem with LD. I felt like part of a team. *sobs*

It took the better part of an hour, but eventually even the corpsewalkers learnt the meaning of fear. These creatures, which know nothing but hunger and rage, retreat in the face of the companions. With hatred in their black eyes, the corpsewalkers fall back, wary now of the flashing blades and the golden lights which unerringly strike them down.

Rather than try their luck against the companions, the corpsewalkers turn their attentions towards the approaching brigade, who bear the eagle banners of Elspeth. They fall upon the brigade, but the legionnaires stand firm under the onslaught, blades flashing.

Xander leads the companions into the fray once more, and it is mere moments before the last of the corpsewalkers are put down with extreme prejudice. The Feartarbh is then confronted by the commander of the Elspeth brigade, a tall blonde Lowlander woman in half-plate armour. Wary, but not aggressive, the commander introduces herself.

"Captain Sevara Ironhawk of the Third Legion of Elspeth." - The Elspeth captain.

"Xander Wrothgar, mercenary. What news do you have of Summer Hill?" - Xander.

"Not much, and the little I have is not good. What is your business here?" - Ironhawk.

"I was travelling with my companions here to the town and we were ambushed by the corpsewalkers you see behind us." - Xander, motioning to the mountain of dismembered bodies on the road behind.

"Mere travellers? I think not, but that is none of my concern." - Ironhawk, with a knowing smile.

Xander has the good grace to look at least somewhat ashamed at being caught in the lie.

"I will offer you a detachment from my company should you wish it, though I doubt you would need them." - Ironhawk, continuing.

"No captain, I think we should be able to manage. I daresay you will need them more than we." - Xander.

Behind the captain, the troops of her brigade are busy checking the bodies of the dead, decapitating the corpsewalkers. They look haggard and tired, yet professional for all that, the cream of the crop of months of hard fighting. A few men are grimacing in pain as they are administered needles full of some glowing green liquid.

"What is the purpose of the injections captain?" - Xander, curious.

"An antidote to the corpsewalker virus. The mages of Elspeth have managed to produce some kind of cure of sorts, but it must be administered to the bloodstream before the changes start to take effect. None of your companions were bitten in the conflict were they?" - Ironhawk, suddenly suspicious.

"No, not to my knowledge, and my companions have faced this foe before, so they know the dangers." - Xander.

Ironhawk's eyes narrow slightly at this, but she doesn't pursue it further.

One of the members of Ironhawk’s company is quite familiar. A reconnaissance specialist by the look of her, dressed in worn leathers, accented with dark red cloth. A familiar tanned face, framed by shoulder-length dark hair. A hated face.

Dhara.


Ah yes, the hated Dhara. Daughter of Lady Silverwood, the wife of Mayor Redwyn of Summer Hill. Or, perhaps, the late Mayor Redwyn of Summer Hill. It seems Summer Hill no longer has a mayor, or at the very least, that Redwyn is probably not it.

Since she betrayed and abandoned the companions, Dhara has reported to her mother, who sent her on to report to the Queen of Elspeth herself on the situation. As punishment for allowing the situation to get so out of hand, she was sent back to the corpsewalker-infested Summer Hill with the legions.

“She is at the top of the murder list.” – Sins.
“We can’t afford to get involved in a pitched battle against these guys.” – Yohan, thinking about Xander’s Soulfire reserves and how low they are getting.
“You could try to Intimidate your way into becoming the new captain?” – Sins.
“We could do that perhaps, but I fear that if it goes wrong, we’re low on resources. This isn’t the main fight remember.” – Yohan.
“That’s true, something is waiting for us in Summer Hill.” – Ladyhawk, quietly.

For her part Dhara tries to avoid the companions as much as she can, and despite a few pointed glares, particularly from Maebh, she is unmolested. Kel’Serrar can’t help but brush his fingertips against the fletching of an arrow whenever he sees her however, and Breanna lapses into a pleasant daydream about murdering the scout where she stands.

"We must be on our way. Safe travels friend. I hope that you find whatever it is you seek in Summer Hill, but be warned, it is vile nest of the creatures, and the monster that rules it is both clever and fierce." - Ironhawk, shaking Xander's hand.

The two companies part amicably.

"That was nice. Not all Elspeth people are bad." - LD.

* * *

Summer Hill. It looks quite different from the last time the companions were there. The wide golden fields, the farmlands which sustained it, are now gone, replaced by a dry, ashen wasteland. Smoke rises from the township itself and the deep forests which directly surrounded it have been replaced by copses of burnt trees. Nothing seems to be alive.

"We did good guys." - Sins.
"Good saving. Really love our work." - Ladyhawk.

They got a little sidetracked here talking about how everything they try to save ends up dead. They have a point.
- Summer Hill: Look at it.
- Dreven: Apparently the Wolf King wasn't killed properly.
- Urik's Landing: Actually turned out okay. They killed the serial killer and the horrific beast, but left the 'good' doctor alive. Hope he doesn't turn up again...
- Nordtarnet: Thanks to their efforts, the Resistance imploded and Bain is now the undisputed ruler, ready to expand his tyrannical rule.
- Varr: Couldn't save the Stormlord, managed to lose the heir, pinched the sword and buggered off.
- Southreach: Well they did cripple a cult and kill some kind of daemon monster in the castle, but they also killed a couple of kids in the process.


When Harold knocked out a couple of kids that night in Southreach, Aeva proceeded to 'interrogate' them regarding the burning of her parents' house. Of course, 'interrogate' here having the meaning, 'kill mercilessly.'

“No chance of meeting Rangard I wouldn’t think.” – Harold, pointing out the burnt-out remnants of the farmhouse they last saw the merchant lord in.

“So, why exactly are we here?” – Xander, asking a good question.

“We’re checking on some things. We’re hoping, in a way, that this is where the Queen’s strike will fall.” – Maebh.

“According to the prophecy, the conflict will be decided upon the fields of Summer. That suggests that it is here, or in the general vicinity, that we need to be.” – Harold.

“So we are here because of prophecy.” – Xander.

“Yes.” – Harold.

“Great.” – Breanna, sharing an eye-roll with Xander.

They continue on into the town.

* * *

More soon guys...

Phoenixguard09
2017-06-07, 06:02 AM
And so we return dear friends...

For the most part, Summer Hill is abandoned, but near the main hall where Redwyn once ran the town from, a horde of corpsewalkers lie in wait. Some still wear armour, the bestial remnants of what were the guardsmen. Most carry weapons, and shrieking their awful cries, they fall upon the companions in a tide of blood, bone, claws, fangs and steel.

At the top of the stairs leading to the main hall stand three corpsewalkers, all armed, the one in the middle carrying a large greataxe. The axe-armed walker retreats into the halls as the two others join the horde rushing at the companions.

A wall of glittering golden blades materialises across the main road, eviscerating a handful of the corpsewalkers, but these seem more intelligent than the others the companions have faced, and they do not rush headfirst into the wall in bloodlust, but instead seek a way around.

On the right-hand side of the road, mounted on Amadeus with Bach loping alongside, Harold charges into the midst of the creatures, lightning and molten silver arrows flashing from his blade. Between the Invarrian and his marcwolf, a knot of corpsewalkers clad in the tattered remnants of their uniforms are brought down.

On the other side of the main road, a shadowy dervish on a shaggy grey blur whirls into another cluster of corpsewalkers, scything through another three in an instant. A fourth is picked off by a gleaming arrow to the eye.

Another knot of corpsewalkers masses around Harold, trying to pull him from his steed, but the wily Invarrian is able to avoid their clutches. A few have managed to make their way around Breanna and Wolfgang too, but are confronted by Xander, who hefts his shields menacingly.

The axe-armed corpsewalker reappears in the doorway of the hall, and the companions can see two more figures within. One is just a man, quite slender in build.

"That's what scares me the most." - Yohan.

The other is a gigantic Feartarbh, at least as large as Xander.

A few gasps here, and not a few of recognition.
"Ah, the ambassador! Alright." - Sins, in a tone that may have been admiration or disappointment. I'd like to say the former, but knowing Sins as I do, it was probably the latter.
"Is that the one I hugged? Is he still my friend?" - Ladyhawk.
I shake my head sadly.

"What is this? Ebeurnus, call the horde. Kill them." - The rasping voice of the shadowy figure they assume is Edmond Carhold.

A thunderous horn-blast rings out from the doorway as the gigantic jet-black Feartarbh strides out, a silvered war-horn grasped in one hand. In the other meaty fist, the bodyguard carries a truly gigantic greatsword, inscribed with glyphs which seem to change and shift. It is also gold, but not a wholesome shine like the Gilded Blade they recovered from Werencha, rather a sickly, tainted gold.

"This sword, how big is it exactly? Like is it just a big greatsword, or is it big to everyone else, or is it actually big to him?" - Yohan.
"It is about the same length as he is tall, so it is about eight and a half feet?"
"Oh hell, I want it so badly." - Yohan.
"You don't even use greatswords anymore." - Ladyhawk.
"Only cause we've never seen one this cool before!" - Yohan.

Another horde of corpsewalkers approach the conflict on the street, this time from behind the companions. At their head is someone they recognise, Royan Settwatch, the captain of the guard, sword and shield in hand. He has, of course, been corpsewalker-ed. Shrieking and screaming they charge towards Maebh, who drops her wall of blades and blasts the oncoming mass with a devastating gale. A score or more and Settwatch are obliterated where they stand, and that many and more again are sent flying back down the road from whence they came, but an even greater number are coming, drawn by Ebeurnus' horn-call.

With the hulking Feartarbh now out in the street, Harold and Xander make their way towards him as quickly as they can, fighting their way through yet another knot of corpsewalkers. Another group tries to fall on them from behind, but Maebh conjures up an icy blast which freezes them in place, a situation which Breanna immediately capitalises on, daggers flashing as she dismembers them.

Standing invisible beside Maebh, Kel'Serrar steadily picks off the corpsewalkers drawn towards the battlefield one by one. His keen ears can hear the sounds of the innumerable hordes still scattered around the township and he resolves to keep shooting.

Going back over the recording and Kel just quietly picked up a nice little kill-count in this encounter. In game terms he only got twelve to this point, which is still good, but I feel from a narrative standpoint, he probably picked off a good few more.

With a roar, Ebeurnus charges Xander and the two behemoths clash. The guardian grits his teeth and expertly turns the massive golden blade aside with a shield, but the sheer impact rocks him where he stands and it takes all of his strength not to be overborne in the charge.

In game terms, Yohan rolled a hell of a Parry, but Ebeurnus' greatsword is an Impact weapon, so Xander still takes half damage on a successful Parry. Xander's damage reduction is so obscenely high that it barely hurt him though. In addition to this, Ebeurnus has a Talent which causes his Charge attack to inflict an opposed Strength Check. If that is failed, Ebeurnus' opponent is knocked prone. This is all well and good, but while Raging, Xander's Strength goes to somewhere above 110, making it very unlikely he'll fail the Check. (Norbayne's stats do not normally go above 80, let alone 100)

That said, Ebeurnus is such a tough customer that he did actually come close to knocking Xander over.

"Well he managed to do 16 Damage despite the Parry and almost knock me over on the charge. This guys would hurt like HELL if he attacked anyone else in the party!" - Yohan.
"Yes, well, why do you think he's attacking you?"

Burning the last of his reserves, Xander refreshes his wards and tries to buffet his massive rival into submission with his shields. He is not particularly successful.

"Okay, Kel's up."
"Successful cast, no doubles." - Sins.
"What are you casting?"
"True Shot." - Sins.
"Ah, of course." - To the victorious laughter of all present.
"Someone is going to die!" - LD, maniacally laughing.

I'll say this for them, they do all seem to enjoy seeing the others succeed. I don't generally need to worry about members of the group being upset that another one is going to trivialise the encounter anymore. Instead they just pat the offender on the back and congratulate them, all while laughing at the forlorn look on my face.

"Okay, so 13 degrees of success on the hit." - Sins.
"With the armour-piercing arrows, yes?" - Yohan.
"Of course. Now PG, does Dev's Lightning Aegis affect my arrows?" - Sins.
"Yes, it does." - Sadly watching as they prepare to take my big impressive boss down in one shot.
Sins gives a little giggle before he rolls.

All up, Sins does 74 Damage, which is reduced to 66 Damage by Ebeurnus' Toughness. Dev asked me if armour might apply some more damage reduction, but I think it was just a sneaky ploy to get me to say once again that the armour was negated by the arcane bodkins.

Just as Xander starts to wonder how he will ever manage to bring the other Feartarbh down, a golden streak flashes past, exploding in Ebeurnus' face with force of a wrathful god. The ground itself shakes with the power unleashed by the ranger's arrow, and even the massing corpsewalkers are momentarily halted by it. When the dust and smoke clears they can see that Ebeurnus is still standing, but not much remains of the Feartarbh above the neck and the handful of corpsewalkers flanking him were likewise destroyed. A long, silent ten seconds passes and what is left of the corpse finally falls to the ground.

"He also misses his next action." - Sins, to the uproarious laughter of all present.
"OH! Wait a minute...." - Rolling.
"So you see guys, Ebeurnus has an ability which allows him to stay up for a single Round after being dealt the killing blow, and you see here, he passed his Willpower Check, so he does in fact get another Round, but he cannot use an action. Well played Sins."

"Noooo!" - Carhold, from within the main hall.

Harold answers the man's cry with a bolt of lightning from his blade, and the fallen ambassador screams in agony.

"Are you angry cause I can shoot lightning now too?" - Dev.
"No, cause mine is better." - Ladyhawk.

Carhold runs out of the hall, grasping a sword and slightly smoking.

"Wait, he's still alive? I thought Harold hit him with a lightning bolt?" - Ladyhawk.
"The bolt did 9 Damage."
"Oh right, I just didn't realise how much better my lightning was." - Ladyhawk.

The ambassador hurls three gleaming daggers out, one each at Breanna, Harold and Xander. Breanna dodges and Xander is able to get a shield between the dagger and his flesh, but Harold takes a minor flesh wound.

With the corpsewalkers fleeing following Ebeurnus' demise, Breanna finds the dagger which flew past her and examines it. It is masterfully crafted and enchanted with an armour-piercing rune, not dissimilar to that adorning some of Kel'Serrar's arrows. She resolves to keep it and obtain the other two from Harold and Xander later.

Calling upon her reserves of power, Maebh calls down a massive golden bolt of lightning from the sky and fries Carhold where he stands.

And so it is that the township of Summer Hill is liberated from tyrannical rulership once more.

Xander picks up Ebeurnus' fallen sword and Maebh sidles over to examine it with him. She quickly determines that this blade grants some kind of power over the corpsewalkers, and it is inscribed with the Carhold sigil on one side of the crossguard and the flag of Elspeth on the other . It is no heirloom however, and seems to be only a few years old at most.


All Edmond Carhold ever wanted was to rule. The companions learnt that his own lands surrounding the Carhold had been sacked some time ago, leaving the man landless while serving in his role as the Naillish ambassador to Summer Hill. Knowing that Naille was on the back foot against Elspeth, Carhold secretly threw in his lot with Queen Esmerelda, informing her of the corpsewalker infestation.

Carhold was promised the lordship of Summer Hill if he aided the forces of Elspeth in the invasion. With the aid of Lady Silverwood and Dhara, he was granted the Corpselord Blade, newly forged in the image of the Gilded Sword which legend says is connected with the Devourers, but inscribed with the sigil of his house and that of Elspeth itself to ensure its loyalty. Esmerelda had her finest artificers dedicate themselves to its forging, using reagents from a corpsewalker Dhara managed to take back to Elspeth.

Ebeurnus did not agree with the position his lord was taking, but it was his indomitable strength they required to bring the corpsewalkers to heel, and so, once more Lady SIlverwood was called upon, as even with the power of the sword, the walkers only follow those larger and stronger than they. She concocted a potion which would lay the massive warrior low, of an addictive quality which slowly bound the Feartarbh to the control of the one who gave it to him. By the end, he was little more than a mindless husk, bound to the will of Carhold.

A sad tale indeed.

Kel'Serrar starts bandaging the handful of wounds the companions have had inflicted upon them and then starts collecting his spent arrows. Harold takes the silvered warhorn hanging from the belt of the mangled remains of Ebeurnus and of course, Xander takes the Corpselord Blade.

"That was a pretty quick session guys, only like two and a half hours."
"Oh good. Reckon you'll get it written up on time?" - LD.
"No, probably not."

I picked that pretty well.

The Wrap-Up:
First of all, I apologise for how long this session took to write up. I have been really, really busy lately, and as such haven't been able to run a game either for several months now.

Thankfully though, this is changing pretty soon, which should be a bit of fun.

Thanks again to Sins for putting together the opening quote for this session too.

Hope everyone enjoyed the read. See you all soon,

Phoenixguard09
2017-12-05, 07:06 PM
We're still alive! Session next weekend! :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2018-03-18, 10:35 PM
Well it was only three months later than anticipated, but we finally played Session 7.1 of Three Coins yesterday. We saw the reveal of two nemeses as well, and we set up what will probably be our last session.

Thank you all for joining us on this journey. I hope to have the write-up available soon.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2018-10-22, 11:17 PM
Session 7.1: Ambush on the Road

”I tried to escape.

Oh how I tried.

I took up the bow and the blade, fled my homeland and set out to find my fortune, away from the cloying influence of my father. Years passed, and I thought myself free.

How wrong I was.

He came to me in a dream last night, told me what had happened to him. How he had come to a ****-hole of a town in the Midlands, Summer Hill. As chance would have it, I was there too.

It was there, or rather, in a complex of underground ruins on the outskirts of the town, that he met his end, or so he told me. His associates were meddling with entities beyond their control again, seeking to influence the turning of the world with their meddling and schemes. Their efforts met with failure, and my father was murdered in the dark.

At his words, I felt a sense of relief. I asked him if he wished to say his farewells, if perchance he sought a reconciliation before shuffling off the mortal coil. He smiled.

“No boy, I have no intention of leaving this world so swiftly. You are not free of me yet.”

Even now sitting here, having awoken, I can still feel his presence, like a dark shadow on my very soul. He’s here, watching my every action, laughing at my helplessness. He wants vengeance, and has given me a name to hunt.

Breanna Blackrose, the one who has consigned us to this fate.

She is as good as dead. – Excerpt from the personal journal of Malis Svartu-Orrin.

Welcome back to Three Coins, one of the last sessions of this campaign. We were joined by Redshirt and LaPD from the Great Maw campaign for this one. They did not play, but will occasionally provide us with amusing witticisms as the game goes on.

The companions leave the ruined and abandoned remains of Summer Hill as swiftly as they can. Having picked carefully through the town, and only finding scattered pockets of corpsewalkers, they are resolved to the fact that the town is now nothing but a den for the voracious predators. They deign to head west, towards Elspeth City itself, the seat of Esmerelda’s power, to finally confront her.

Xander takes the lead with Breanna sitting upon his shoulder. Behind ride Maebh and Harold, with Kel’Serrar in the shape of an Invarrian which looks suspiciously like Harold, walking behind. They are wary, having only recently beaten off yet another pack of wandering corpsewalkers. It is late in the afternoon, and a slight breeze drifts through the darkening woodland on either side of the road. There are no birds.

The silence is unnerving.

Breanna takes a deep breath and the breeze brings with it a scent and a memory.

“Oh no, what is that? Dreven… Wolves and… Oh no.” – Breanna, sifting through the memories of the last time she smelt this particular scent.

“What is it Bree?” – Xander, concerned by the Leathe’s muttering upon his shoulder.

“I think, I’m not sure, but I think we’re about to be attacked.” – Breanna, racking her memory.

By complete happy chance, Xander sees a short cloaked figure, almost shrouded in the shadowy woods flit between two trees on the northern side of the road.

“I think you’re right. Someone is shadowing us.” – Xander, quietly warning Breanna, nodding in the direction of the figure he saw.

“Kel, to the north.” – Breanna, calling to the disguised ranger. He nods, bow already in hand, keen eyes scanning the treeline.

The companions halt on the road, ready to spring into action.

The silence stretches out into minutes, the companions wary of their silent and invisible hunters. The air grows cold, and despite the afternoon sun, fog starts to slowly waft from amidst the trees. Frost rimes the grass underfoot and their breath mists before their faces.

A fell wind blows over the road, and on it, a sinister voice, one which at first chills Maebh, before awakening a white-hot rage within her.

”You cannot escape me Maebh. We are destined to be together.” – Bastaird Asal-diog’s whispering wind.

“Bastaird…” – Maebh, under her breath.

An arrow smashes into one of Xander’s shields as a figure breaks from the treeline ahead. It is a tall Danann woman on a horse, longspear couched like a lance as she charges at the companions.

“She’ll be going for Xander as well.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got another free Parry from my other shield. That’s 47, with a +20 from my bonuses to Parry. Good enough?” – Yohan.
“67? Not quite.”
“Oh hell, she’s got some good Combat Skill guys.” – Yohan.

An arrow grazes Maebh’s cheek and immediately she can feel a very slight drain on her reserves of power. Not enough to really affect her too badly, but enough to be concerned about what her enemies have brought to bear. It is clear they are trying to take as few chances as possible.

By that same token, the air around the companions feels dead, like a great weight is pressing down upon them. Maebh can feel it getting harder and harder to tap into her power.

“One of the Danann has cast the extended version of a Spirit power called Aethryic Deadening. Power costs and casting values of all spells in the area are doubled for the duration of the spell.”
“Oh can you not?” – Ladyhawk.
“I’m looking forward to my casting value of 60+” – Sins.
“I’m not going to be able to give any of you guys extra armour. I literally do not have enough Soulfire to pull it off, especially with the 48+ casting value.” – Yohan.

The lancer charges down Xander and inflicts a heavy wound on the hulking Feartarbh. He roars in anger and pain, losing himself in the frenzied rage of his bloodline and hurls himself into the fray, dropping his shields and drawing forth the massive greatsword of Ebeurnus. Breanna sits on his shoulder, simply holding on for dear life.

A roiling orb of balefire rips from the cover of the treeline, smashing into Xander with a ferocious concussive blast. The Feartarbh is driven to his knees for a moment, but is swiftly up and fighting again Breanna flips out of the saddle and away from the flame, and is able to avoid the daemonic flames, but not before she notices something which chills her. It curved in the air as she jumped, as if it were seeking her out. It was hunting her.

Kel’Serrar sees the figure which hurled the fireball and swiftly looses an ensorcelled arrow at it, but the man dodges out of the way and back behind a tree with preternatural speed. The Danann snarls silently and nocks another arrow. The figure looks like a Selkye, and his presence in amongst this Danann pack makes little sense, but Kel’Serrar pushes the thought to the back of his mind. There will be time enough to puzzle it out later.

Seeing the result of Kel’Serrar’s shot, and fighting with the aethyric deadening in the area, Maebh shapes a massive ball of fire and hurls it at the tree, flooding the spell with so much essence that it blows the tree apart and sends the Selkye flying. The body, smouldering, starts to twitch and writhe where it lies on the icy grass.

An answering fireball shoots out from a hidden caster in the treeline, smashing into the ground between Harold and Maebh, rocking the Invarrian in the saddle and hurting him badly. Maebh is able to avoid the worst of the flames, throwing herself out of the way.

“Is the fireball cold by any chance?” – Yohan.
“What do you think?”
“Why do you ask?” – Dev.
“I’ve got cold resistance.” – Yohan.
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” – LD.
“Is it possible that the fireball’s so hot, it feels cold?” – Yohan.
“You should have stopped when you started grasping at straws. Then you started scraping the bottom of the barrel, went even further and hit rock bottom.” – Sins.

“I’m thinking I’ll grab one of my old daggers at throw it at the chick on the horse.” – LD.
“That’s a pretty good option for dealing with her, yeah. Go ahead.”
LD rolls a hit, but the Danann warrior dodges it.
“Now you can throw another. You’ve got enough actions to do so.”
“Yeah, do I have another dagger though?” – LD, to the laughter of everyone present.
“You’ve got like 70!”
“Ah yeah, the two originals, the carving knife, another knife, the cool dagger we found, a couple of throwing knives and the three armour piercing knives from Summer Hill. Looks like I do have another one to throw.” – LD.
“And you call me a walking armoury.” – Dev.
“At least all of Breanna’s are small. You’re walking around with swords, axes and a pike shoved up your arse.” – Sins.

Breanna hurls a couple of little blades at the mounted Danann, but only one hits. The one which hit would have sunk directly into her neck but it bounces off, leaving only the merest scratch. It seems her flesh has been enchanted, presumably by one of the casters hidden in the treeline.

The mounted warrior ignores the thrown knives and charges directly at Xander, who receives the charge with a roar. She tries to use her mount to knock him over, but he stands firm. As he stands there, desperately pushing the woman’s lance aside, he can feel a pull on his essence as a malignant curse is cast on him. He grits his teeth and roars in frustration and rage, and pushes the fell magic aside.

“Yohan, you’ll need to make a Willpower Check at -10 to resist a spell called Life’s End.”
“Well, that’s it guys, nice knowing you all.” – Yohan.
“You can do it Yohan.” – Ladyhawk.
“Ah, that’s actually a pass. 11 under 23. My Willpower is normally 33, so yeah, that’s a pass. And I even roll proper percentiles instead of picking my place values after every roll, so you can see that my roll is legit.” – Yohan, to the sheepish laughter of all my cheating players.

I’m kidding, they cheat, but it isn’t really cheating if I encourage it.

A few arrows streak from the treeline, one punching into Xander’s upper arm and another just barely flying past Kel’Serrar as he sways to the side.

Xander snaps the arrow-shaft where it protrudes from his arm and throws it away before drawing the gigantic blade of Ebeurnus back to cleave into the Danann woman, taking a light wound from her spear in the process.

“Okay, so that’s 37 Damage, ignoring armour.” – Yohan.
“Right then. She’s got 3 Damage Resistance from Toughness.”
“34 Damage.” – Yohan.
“Yeah, she’s mulched. Oh hold on, she’s got Ironflesh on her as well. So that goes down to 28 Damage. So she’s still mulched.”

The rider actually manages to get her spear between Xander’s blade and her own flesh, but to no avail, as the wooden shaft is no match for the ensorcelled blade in the hands of the furious and monstrously strong Feartarbh. With a brief flash of sickly golden light, the blade cleaves straight through the spear and smashes the warrior off her horse. The enchantment on her flesh prevents the sword from cutting through her, but cannot stop the pulverising force the Feartarbh imparts upon her. She hits the ground with a crash, completely broken, bones smashed to a pulp.

“Morrigan, no!” – At least one voice from the hidden assailants in the trees.

Still lost in the bloodlust, Xander charges off towards the voices in treeline, looking for more to kill. Sharing a glance, Harold and Breanna chase after him, Harold spurring Amadeus to greater speed.
“Mad cow, come back!” – Redshirt.

Another arrow streaks towards Kel’Serrar, this one taking the ranger heavily in the shoulder. He drops to his knees and grimaces as he pulls the arrow out.

“I definitely prefer when I’m the one doing the shooting.” – Kel’Serrar, to himself.

For a split second, there are two of the ranger, disguised as an Invarrian looking very similar to Harold. Then, there is only one, which keeps up a constant barrage of illusory arrows. The real Kel’Serrar, now invisible, simply takes a step to the left and draws an arrow back with pain, searching for a target.

Seeing a Danann archer step away from behind a nearby tree and loose at Kel’Serrar, Breanna draws her knives and springs into a leap, engaging the archer in deadly melee.

“Tree-girl! Do you know what you have done?” – Disembodied voice of what sounds like an old man.

“You’ll need to be more specific!” – Breanna, ducking under a glittering Danann blade.

“The torture you have wrought upon me!” – This time, two voices, entangled in each other, the old man and a second, younger voice, strongly accented.

“Again, specifics!” – Breanna, driving her knife into the leg of her opponent. She flips away from the melee, towards the safety of Xander’s hulking form.

”You have forced me into this half-life! To live within the mind of someone I hate! I will be stuck like this for eternity and it is YOUR FAULT!” – The voices, shaking with rage.

From the still burning Selkye’s body, a fiery spirit manifests, at first almost humanoid, but then taking the form of an ulvenseigl, one of the great predators which inhabits the coasts of the north.

A call-back here to the beginning of Arc 4, where the companions dealt with the doctor in Urik’s Landing, who used an ulvenseigl as his base for building the perfect predator. That particular questline was described as, “When we went down into the lair and Breanna almost got ****-mixed.”

Quite apt really.

The fiery, spectral ulvenseigl howls, a deep guttural roar of rage and streaks towards Breanna, enveloping her and Xander in a roiling explosion of flame. Both are driven to their knees, and Breanna looks up at the flaming figure as it rears over her, jaws opened wide, dripping with liquid balefire.

”Pathetic. We curse you to an eternity of torment, but we only wish we could drag out the agony you will feel as our fangs rend your flesh.” – The voices, melding over one another in a nightmarish, animalistic howl.

An arrow, gleaming with fell light, rips into where the beast’s eye would be, killing the magic holding it together. The fires gutter and die, and the roaring of the flames and snarling of the spectral beast starts to fade away.

“NO! It can’t end like this! Curse you! CURSE YOU!” – The voices, raging as the magic holding them to the material is severed by Kel’Serrar’s arrow.

And so Kel’Serrar claims another major kill.

I finally reveal the backstory behind LD’s nemesis here, one which I have been holding onto since all the way back in 2011. Towards the end of Arc 1, the companions found a cult in the depths of some ruins outside Summer Hill. One of those cultists, an old Selkye, did not seem to be a part of the cult itself, but rather an advisor of sorts.

Breanna cut his throat, but he was an old and experienced warlock, and had contingencies in place.

When he died, it triggered a spell he had prepared, one which would catapult his spirit into the body of his estranged son, destroying the son’s spirit in the process. However the speed and brutality with which Breanna killed him meant that only the first part of the spell succeeded. Both spirits were now trapped in the same body, unable to harm the other, but forced to live out the rest of their days together.

The warlock’s son just so happened to be working in and around Summer Hill at the time, an assassin. The companions have met him before too. Malis Svartu-Orrin was contracted to kill Edmond Carhold, when Harold got in his way. The Invarrian did just enough to ensure Carhold’s bodyguard showed up, but it did mean Svartu-Orrin failed his contract.

I’d waited seven years to make this reveal.

“I did my time! SEVEN YEARS OF IT!” – Channelling Sirius Black.

Maebh expends almost everything she has left to call up an orb of lightning around her and then a curtain of aethyric blades around both herself and Kel’Serrar. She doesn’t know that what she sees and thinks is the ranger is in fact an illusion and the real Kel’Serrar is actually a step to the left, but luckily she doesn’t eviscerate her invisible companion.

”Can you feel how hard it is to cast, Maebh? How much it weighs upon you?” – Bastaird’s whispering wind.

“No, I can keep casting all evening bastard.” – Maebh, bluffing.

A murder of crows wings toward Maebh and Kel’Serrar. To her witchsight, they glow with magic, having been compelled to feed themselves into the meat-grinder which is Maebh’s curtain of blades. With defiant caws they smash into the ethereal blades at full speed, immediately ground into gobbets of meat and shards of white bone. The storm of viscera splatters all over the invisible Kel, who groans in frustration, but the crackling lightning writhing around Maebh wicks most of it away from her.

And then another roiling ball of fire rips through the blade curtain, flames warring with the amber lightning shielding the mage. Maebh screams as the blast burns at her, the pain excruciating. Smouldering and swearing, Maebh unleashes a blast of golden fire of her own in return, but it is more reflexive than thought out and without a specific target to aim for, it thunders into a tree yards away from the nearest target, splitting it asunder.


Back at the very end of Arc 3, Bastaird’s pack confronted the companions in the village of Dreven. Seeing a moment of vulnerability after the companions had just defeated the Wolf King, the pack decided to strike, spurred into action by the joining of Barandin Stonefist and Therressa Bannimagen, not wanting to risk the companions adding more recruits to their already formidable strength. That night, things did not go so well for them. One of their number copped an arrow through the throat and a horse burnt to death. These things happened in about the space of ten seconds, and so they retreated rather than risk further losses.

Since then they’ve been planning, biding their time, obtaining as much information as they could on the abilities of the companions. They even added Malis Svartu-Orrin to their company as an ally to that end. As such, this encounter was always going to be tough.

Breanna, still huddled near Xander, picks herself up and dusts herself off. Shaken and burnt, but otherwise unharmed, she draws a shortsword and readies herself. All around her, amidst the shadowy, frost-bitten trees, she can see the lithe shapes of the rest of the pack, moving into position. Beside her, Xander stands ready as well, the rage slightly abated. He breathes heavily, blood slowly dripping onto the frozen ground, thawing the frost ever so slightly, greatsword clutched tightly.

Looking around, Xander can see his companions are all a little worse for wear. Struggling to fight past the rage clouding his vision, the Feartarbh tries to channel his essence into a great shielding spell, but between his fatigue and the aethyric deadening in the air all around, he slips. The power lashes out from the guardian with a flash of golden light, and something answers.

Breanna’s backpack starts to tremble and smoulder with contained energy, and she drops it to the icy ground. The flap opens and out tumbles one of the coins, which rolls out and stands perfectly on its edge.

Back shortly.

Phoenixguard09
2018-10-22, 11:24 PM
And we're back.

Meanwhile, inside Xander’s mind, everything is on fire and he screams in pain and fear as Khubudeyn takes up residence again in the homely confines of his mind.

“Oh, how I missed you.” – Khubudeyn.

Xander is caught once again in a cage of red-hot iron bars, searing his consciousness.

“I don’t have long here, so let’s see what kind of damage I can cause…” – Khubudeyn.

“He’s possessed, quickly, stop him!’ – Bastaird, directing his pack.

A grim, fur-clad figure steps out from behind one of the trees and weaves some kind of debilitating magic around the form of the hulking Feartarbh.

“WHAT IS THIS!? I cannot move!” – Khubudeyn, raging as the Danann shaman’s curse takes hold.

An arrow flashes down and smashes into the illusion Kel’Serrar left to hide his presence. The illusion shatters immediately, leaving no trace of the elusive ranger. Several paces away, the invisible Kel’Serrar looses a gleaming arrow in return, which takes his opposite number in the eye.

Harold rides through the Danann in the woods, catching the shaman with a glancing blow. He misses the other archer, but wheels Amadeus around to continue the assault.

Maebh takes a moment to look around for a target, but none are forthcoming. She has a flash of inspiration, rushes forward and unleashes a gout of amber flames into the forest, setting the woodland alight. Her plan is to flush out the pack, or hopefully catch them in the flames and kill them indirectly. Now though, she is isolated, and a horseman breaks from the cover of the woods.

The horseman is Bastaird himself, and he draws forth a glittering dagger as he rides towards the mage, hurling it at her. The blade, and the aethyrbane poison coating it, is deflected by the curtain of blades before Maebh, but Bastaird doesn’t seem to care overmuch, spurring his horse on harder.

“Can I try to draw the daemon out of Xander?” – LD.
“Yes, definitely.”
“That won’t end his Frenzy will it?” – LD.
“No, the daemon and my Frenzy are two entirely separate mechanics.” – Yohan.
“Ah right. I don’t really understand how daemonic possession works.” – LD.
“You are literally the one character who should understand that.” – Yohan.
“As an aside, did anyone else picture the daemon just settling back into its favourite lounge-chair earlier?” – Ladyhawk.

The Danann mage, Naira, launches herself from hiding, thrusting a spear at Harold, but she is unable to break through the duellist’s defences. The second archer, Ruaridh, shoots at Maebh, but the arrow is charred and broken by the lightning which dances around her.

The forest shakes as Khubudeyn manages to free Xander’s body from the debilitating touch of Mharu’s magic, and the daemon directs its vessel through Ruaridh and straight for Harold.

“Okay, let’s have the dice decide then. 1-3, you go for Breanna, 4-6, you go for Ruaridh, 7-9, you go for Harold. On a 0, you get to choose what he does.”
“Let’s be real here, a 0 is just another result for Ruaridh.” – Yohan, who proceeds to roll an 8.
“Well Dev, nice knowing you.” – Sins.

“Sorry man, that’s a hit.” – Yohan, rolling for Xander’s strike.
“Do you have a Parry left?” – to Dev.
“It’s a greatsword isn’t it?” – Dev.
“Yes. Ignores armour as well.” – Ladyhawk.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m jumping off the ****ing horse.” – Dev.

The gigantic golden blade comes down, Harold just avoiding it but throwing himself out of the saddle, but Amadeus is not so lucky, the horse cloven almost in two by the ferociously powerful strike.

“I’m sorry Dev. At least it wasn’t you though.” – Yohan.
“Yeah, well, at least he gets a funeral pyre.” – Dev.

Springing to his feet, Harold runs as hard as he can for the safety of Maebh’s blade curtain, just trying to get as far away from the possessed Feartarbh as possible.

Mharu binds yet more spirits to the raging form of Xander, weakening him significantly, but not enough to even come close to crippling the Feartarbh.

With Bastaird bearing down on her, Maebh gathers up as much power as she can and hurls two balls of flame at her nemesis. The first washes over the charging horseman, burning him severely, but with a shriek of tortured magic, the other explodes into shadows in her hands, washing everything around her in pitch darkness.

“Bastaird, Iolair’s down and the Feartarbh is free. Quick, let’s go!’ – A female voice, presumably Naira.

“Aaargh! This isn’t over Maebh!” – Bastaird, furious. The sound of the hoofbeats of his retreating horse fade into the unnatural blackness.

“Come back Bastaird! This is not finished!” – Maebh, hurling gouts of amber flame into the shadows all around here.

Immediately after the darkness fell, Kel’Serrar dropped to the ground and tried to meditate on his surroundings. It takes a few moments but eventually he can almost feel the trace of passage the pack leaves as it flees to the north, but only for a split second before it is gone. It seems as if their passage is being hidden by spirits, probably bound by the shaman, Mharu.

The pack may have retreated, but the battle is not yet done.

* * *

Breanna darts in close to the rampaging Xander and lays a hand on him, trying to compel him into unconsciousness with a flood of daemonic energy. Unfortunately, it seems to have no effect, and the Leathe flits away.

“Okay, rolling again to determine which one I go after. Odds it’s Harold, evens it’s Breanna.” – Yohan, who rolls a 7.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” – Dev.
“It isn’t even me. My dice clearly hate you.” – Yohan.
“I’d like to see Dev use Yohan’s dice to try and protect himself. It’d be interesting to see if they would betray him.” – LaPD.
“Luckily, Harold is just out of range.”
“Right, so with that in mind, you guys are all faster than me. Just play the Benny Hill music and keep running for like 8 more Rounds. I have no ranged capability, so you should all be safe.” – Yohan.
“Xander has no ranged capability, true.”
“But the daemon might.” – Sins.

“Maebh, help!” – Breanna, joining Harold in running back to the mage.

Gathering up what’s left of her reserves of power, Maebh ensnares the charging Feartarbh, able to exert her will over the daemon inside his mind. Xander’s body is just about encased in amber-coloured ice.

Within Xander’s head, he is still constrained in that burning cage, but now all the flames are dying, slowly being consumed by golden hoarfrost as Maebh’s magic takes hold.

“THIS CANNOT BE!” – Khubudeyn, raging, trying to regather his control over Xander’s body.

“Accept it. They’ve beaten you once before and they will again.” – Xander, before being wracked with agony.

“DO NOT SPEAK CRETIN! LEARN YOUR PLACE!” – Khubudeyn.

“Time’s almost up fiend.” – Xander, smiling a bloody grin.

The daemon’s attention turns directly to Xander’s consciousness and it reaches into the cage with long, spindly claws, grasping and pulling at him.

Xander can do nothing but scream.

The companions gather around the icy statue Maebh has made out of Xander, wondering what they can do next.

“He’s warming up Maebh.” – Breanna, holding a hand near the surface of the ice, which is rapidly melting and refreezing as the mage pours more power into the spell.

“I don’t know how long this will last. We need another plan.” – Maebh, concentrating grimly.

“Where’s the coin… I can’t find it!” – Breanna, searching desperately for where the coin which held Khubudeyn has disappeared to.

Harold has a burst of inspiration and draws a dagger, cutting his palm and letting the blood well up.

“What are you doing?” – Kel’Serrar, nocking an arrow and aiming it at the Invarrian.

“You’re able to channel your vitality into other people, yes? To grant them greater power?” – Harold, to Maebh, who nods.

“Right, so maybe I can do the same.” – Harold, who then places his bloody hand on the Feartarbh’s arm, closes his eyes and wills everything he has into the battle for Xander’s mind.

* * *

A frozen hellscape greets the Invarrian’s consciousness. Before him, a massive creature, looking like it was constructed from jagged pieces of wood and wreathed in terrible flames, is trying to tear a caged Xander apart with razor-sharp claws.

“I am basically just cow-screaming at this stage.” – Yohan.
“Moooo!” – LD, Ladyhawk and LaPD.

“Okay, so time for the care-bear attack.” – Dev, rubbing his hands with glee.
“Sorry man, that’s equipment. You are not physically here.”
“Wait, so we don’t have equipment in here… That means I am naked.” – Yohan.
“Naked Xander is perhaps more mentally scarring than the daemon.” – Dev.
“It might be funny if I went and hypnotised the daemon.” – Ladyhawk.
“Would you like to join us? You’re welcome to come on into my mind too.” – Yohan.
“What would you be hypnotising the daemon for? To what end?”
“Just get it to stop being an *******.” – Ladyhawk.

“So, I have no equipment… Am I able to manifest anything?” – Dev.
“So much like last time you guys were in some kind of ethereal state like this, your will to cause damage generally manifests as a weapon. For instance, Maebh wanted to hurt someone last time and her will to destroy manifested as a spear. For you, it’d probably be a sword?”
“We’re in that really bad situation where our only option might be to try Charming it.” – Sins, to Dev.
“I already tried that.” – Yohan.
“Not Dev-style Charming. You rolled on Charisma, Dev rolls on Combat Skill.” – Sins.
“LIKE ME OR ELSE!” – Everyone at the table.


At this point Dev received a phone call.

“Sorry guys. Hello?” – Dev, who proceeded to listen for the next 45 seconds.
“I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of something right now. Could you please call back another time? Thank you, bye.” – Dev, hanging up the phone.
“Who was it?” – Yohan.
“His mum.”
“Telemarketers. They’ve called me like a half a dozen times this last fortnight and I’ve basically told them to **** off.” – Dev.
“That nicely?”
“Actually you were really polite. No wonder they’re ruining your life.” – Ladyhawk.
“Just flip it around, try and sell them something. They hate it.” – Yohan, to Sins’ nod of approval.

Harold charges forward, a glowing blade materialising in his fist as he strikes at the limbs of the creature trying to rend his friend apart. The blade passes through the wrist of one of its limbs with a great cracking noise, and the daemon retreats a little, roaring at the Invarrian which has invaded its territory.

Taking advantage of the distraction provided by Harold, Xander wrenches himself out of his prison and launches himself at the daemon, holding on for dear life as it pounds and tears at him. But Khubudeyn is distracted, and while it tries to deal with the upstart Feartarbh, it isn’t able to break free of Maebh’s magic.

Perhaps more importantly though, Harold has managed to retreat to a higher level.

“So, how much can I manifest as such? Could I manifest like a viking longboat?” – Dev.
“You don’t own a bow, so Harold probably doesn’t really associate it with trying to wreak destruction.”
“No, not a bow, a boat. Like a longship.” – Dev.
“Oh right, well, uh…”
“I want to just try and ram it into the daemon if I can.” – Dev.
“That is just too ****ing metal.”
“BUUUUUUUUUURRRRR” – Yohan, imitating a ship’s horn.
“Only Dev would think to use a viking ship to ram a daemon in a frozen hellscape.” – Sins.
“Xander’s going to have nightmares about this. He finally manages to get just a little bit of control over the situation and then, BAM, longboat.” – Yohan.

Harold looks around Xander’s frozen mind. Below, his friend is being soundly beaten by the gigantic creature, flaming wooden fists and claws pummelling and rending at the Feartarbh’s consciousness. The assault is starting to tell on the mighty warrior. He looks diminished and faint, almost as if he is fading from reality, or whatever plane of existence they are currently on.

The Invarrian looks ‘up’, seeing the swirling of memories and emotions, thoughts, ideas and impulses. Like water, they flow and ripple over each other, and he is almost lost in the beauty of it. It takes him back to an earlier, simpler time, when he was merely a reaver, sailing with his friends and taking whatever they wanted from people to slow and weak to play the Great Game properly.

Like water… Sailing…

Beneath his feet, the ephemeral ground trembles as a longship takes form. A mighty mast shoots into the ‘sky’, a wide billowing sail hanging from it. Grinning, Harold runs to the bow of the ship, a glowing sabre blade in one hand, an axe formed of the same will to destroy in the other. A great gust blows, Harold’s memories filling the sail and manning the oars below-deck, propelling the ship forward and down with terrifying speed.

Khubudeyn grasps Xander and throws him heavily into the ground, roaring in triumph, but its celebrations are short-lived. It looks up, and feels fear…

With a great splintering of wood and a flood of seawater, the longship plows straight into the daemon, smashing it into the ground with the force of a wrathful god. Harold himself leaps from the bow, driving both weapons into the creature with as much force as he can.

“No matter what happens for the rest of the session, this session is Dev’s. He’s owned it.” – Sins.

* * *

“I’ve found it. Maebh, help me, it’s probably too powerful for me to bind by myself.” – Breanna, taking up the misplaced coin and running to Xander’s side.

Maebh channels the very last dregs of her power into the Leathe and watches as the assassin slowly drags the daemon out of the Feartarbh’s mind. One side of the coin burns hot, the other, icy cold, just as it was before.

“Okay, that was a long-ass combat guys, but I think we can all agree that it got pretty ****ing epic in the end there.”

* * *

Having seen off the Danann pack, the companions’ way to Elspeth is now open. They continue for a few days at a fairly restful pace, not pushing themselves overmuch as they recover from the exertions they went through.

Several days pass, and other than Xander’s recurring nightmares, the days and nights are uneventful. Breanna has taken to leaving her backpack on the ground before climbing into a tree to sleep, convinced she can hear muffled roaring from within in the dead of the night.

Weary and battered but determined, the companions pass through the quiet forests and over rivers and streams, and on a late afternoon, they eventually find themselves before the city of Elspeth itself.

Encamped before the city are two whole legions, well over a thousand soldiers, predominantly well-armed, disciplined and well-drilled heavy infantry.

“They fight in the same way my people did, many years ago.” – Xander, gruff.

“This might be a tough one to sneak into.” – Breanna, disappointed.

“The Harvest Moon is tomorrow night.” – Maebh, standing beside Toirneach with a hand on the horse’s neck.

The city itself is a sprawling, fortified settlement, with a soaring keep overlooking the cliffs on the western edge of the city. Hopefully they will find Esmerelda within, and prevent the world’s ruin.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
First of all, my apologies regarding how long this took to write. We played this game all the way back in March and it has taken over seven months just to write it up. With that said, I hope it was worth the wait.

What will probably be our final session is due to be played in a fortnight’s time, and hopefully I will have the write-up completed before 2019 rolls around.

This one was another combat heavy session, but it was definitely more successful than the ones in Summer Hill. More interesting and dangerous opponents by far.

Anyway, we hope you enjoyed reading this and you will join us for the last session next time.

Cheers,

Dragons_Ire
2019-02-06, 06:50 PM
Just read the most recent two sessions. One word: awesome. I've really enjoyed reading about the party's exploits. The system intrigues me as well; I don't fully understand it, but I like what I do understand. A few questions:

Are you planning to make this system available for purchase? If so, when/where?

Are dragons a thing in Norbayne?

What's next, after this campaign wraps up?


Anyway, looking forward to the next session!

Phoenixguard09
2019-02-16, 11:49 AM
Hey! Glad you've been enjoying it. :smallsmile:

Q1: The system will be available for purchase soon. Dev and I have been hard at work on it for the last year or so, really fine-tuning everything. We're mainly just working on the Talents and Spells for the various classes now. So we are indeed pretty close to a release. I'll be doing up a Kickstarter soon-ish, and promoting it further.

Q2: Dragons certainly are a thing in Norbayne. A smaller species lives in the Wardenfells, and a much large one in the mountain ranges of Sothbayne, the landmass far to the south. Only four limbs though, which Sins and Dev have expressed displeasure with repeatedly. They are on the other hand, quite intelligent hyper-predators with significant arcane ability.

Q3: Well, we've got the Great Maw campaign log also available on this forum.
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?512461-The-Great-Maw-A-Norbayne-Campaign-Log&p=21613987

It showcases a slightly different style of game, but with largely the same group and in the same world. The first Arc if you will of Great Maw is complete, and most of the sessions of that Arc are written up, with the most recent just the other day. I've also got a game more like Three Coins in style which will eventually be written up over on that thread as well, called Forgotten Glories.

So to answer the question, I will still be running God King and Forgotten Glories, but thankfully neither of those games take as much preparation as Three Coins has. :smallsmile: Also, Dev has picked up his Whispers campaign again and Yohan has offered to run something as well, but it remains to be seen what that may be.

In other exciting news, we will be playing a session each of Three Coins and Whispers tomorrow. Knowing my players the way I do, I suspect I may have miscalculated a little and that tomorrow's Three Coins session may not in fact be the last, but we shall see. Depends on how well they go I guess. :smallbiggrin:

Also, a slight teaser of sorts, we have enlisted a small team of semi-professional artists, who will be turning this same story you have been reading, into a webcomic. At this stage we intend to host it on Exilian, which is also where a lot of the publically accessible material can be found.
https://exilian.co.uk/forum/index.php?board=109.0

You can check out a lot of the artwork we have had made on The_Norbayne_Campaign Instagram page. I don't really know how Instagram works, so I'll just put a link here and just kind of hope it works.
https://www.instagram.com/the_norbayne_campaign/

Anyway, I think that is all for now.

To all of our readers, silent or otherwise, over the years, we have truly appreciated your love and support.

We will return soon with the final chapter(s) of our story.

halfeye
2019-02-16, 12:35 PM
Q2: Dragons certainly are a thing in Norbayne. A smaller species lives in the Wardenfells, and a much large one in the mountain ranges of Sothbayne, the landmass far to the south. Only four limbs though, which Sins and Dev have expressed displeasure with repeatedly. They are on the other hand, quite intelligent hyper-predators with significant arcane ability.

Four limbs? that's either Wyverns, or Chinese type dragons.

Phoenixguard09
2019-02-16, 05:21 PM
Four limbs? that's either Wyverns, or Chinese type dragons.

Sins, is that you? :p

They are wyvern-like in design, yes.

If Skyrim can get away with it, I figure I can too.

halfeye
2019-02-16, 07:19 PM
Sins, is that you? :p

I do not recall ever being called that.


They are wyvern-like in design, yes.

If Skyrim can get away with it, I figure I can too.

Skyrim shouldn't get away with it.

Why would you want to get away with it anyway? It's presumably not as if you have to make, or even draw the extra legs.

Equally, Wyvern is an ancient and respected name, it should be enough for any two legged dragon like monster.

Phoenixguard09
2019-02-17, 05:20 PM
I appreciate your input, though perhaps not as much as Sins does, who has made those self-same points with something approaching monotonous regularity. :smallsmile:

Session 7.2 went well yesterday, with the party infiltrating Elspeth City without too much trouble. As expected, they did manage to drag it out too much for a single session.

We intend to play Session 7.3 this weekend, in what will definitely be the final chapter.

In other news, Dev ran Session 5 of Whispers in the Dark last night, which was very enjoyable. I am now three sessions behind on the Whispers write-ups, and unfortunately I am probably too busy for that to change in the immediate future.

Cheers,

Phoenixguard09
2019-03-17, 05:23 AM
Today, the very last session of Three Coins was played. The two last write-ups will be forthcoming.

Looking forward to sharing the end of our story with you.

Aracaeda
2019-06-18, 07:08 PM
WhEn ArE tHe LaSt SeSsIoNs BeInG pOsTeD?!?!?!?

Phoenixguard09
2019-07-28, 08:27 AM
Session 7.2: Harvest Moon Rising

”We come to it at last, the rise of the Harvest Moon. All our long journeys, the various paths which have lead us to this point have culminated, together, here, on this night. Through nights filled with wolven terrors, to storms on the open ocean, underground in the depths of the world to the mountain passes of the far north and the sunken depths of ancient temples, we’ve finally come back, full circle.

This is it, we win, or we die.”
- Excerpted from the journal of Maebh Preachain-Eite, dated to mid-1650 CE.

Welcome to session 7.2 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.

“This may be the end of an era here ladies and gentlemen.” – Dev.
“There’ll be another session yet.” – Sins.
“I had high hopes we’d be able to drag this out for a decade. I’m slightly disappointed.” – LD.
“You know, the game doesn’t stop until we let him go.” – Sins.
“That seems like most GM’s experiences to me. ‘This is how my story is,’ they cry. No its not.” – Yohan.
“Write monkey, write!” – LD.

Exhausted, the companions encamp behind a slight hilly rise on the eaves of a copse of woodland. They share the watch through the night, but nothing interrupts their rest. On the field below, most of the Elspeth troop formations have either encamped in a city of tents before the city walls, or have retreated inside to rest. Moving torchlights indicate the presence of a significant force upon the walls of the city, and the tents are both guarded and regularly patrolled by over one hundred soldiers at a time, split between a picket line set and small squads moving between the tents.

The camp and the city both appear to be on high alert, but thankfully the companions’ presence goes unnoticed.

The dawn light starts to gently peak out over the hills to the east, casting a dim silvery light over the grassy plain and the white stone city walls. The light glints on the armour of the Elspeth heavy infantry as the tent city stirs into life. Labourers exit the city and begin disassembling the shelters, removing them from the field with startling efficiency. Within twenty minutes, the Elspeth army is formed up and ready, their camp broken and packed away, non-combatants retreated away and back within the city walls.

Xander, Harold and Maebh, using the cover of the treeline, stand on the rise and observe the legions in action.

“They’re waiting for something.” – Xander, quietly.

“Not us, surely.” – Harold, wondering out loud.

“No, not us.” – Maebh, pointing towards the east.

Just cresting the hills to the east, the companions can see the fluttering of banners as an army approaches. Over a thousand infantry, accompanied by a small contingent of cavalry and some siege weapons. As they get closer, the companions recognise the banners, a red bird of some kind on a green field. Naille’s army has arrived.

The new army forms up, almost a mile from the Elspeth formations. The Naillish force seems a fair margin smaller than that of Elspeth, and most of their force is made up of light spearmen and archers.


INSERT MAP HERE

It just wouldn’t be right to not have another Insert Map Here.

The city of Elspeth is protected by a curtain wall almost 20 metres tall, anchored by tall towers arranged in almost a hexagon-shape. Atop each tower sits a heavy ballista, which, from this distance, appear to be mounted on some kind of device which allows the machine to rotate in place, giving a 360 degree shooting arc.

The keep itself is situated well within the walls, abutting the cliffs overlooking the Sea of Claws to the west. The keep’s walls are much higher, over 50 feet, the four towers taller and broader than those anchoring the curtain wall. Atop each of the keep’s towers sits a large trebuchet. Jutting out from the centre of the keep is a tall marble spire, almost like a stretched pyramid, adorned with a massive sculpture of an eagle, presumably cast in gold, wings spread back over the spire.

“A bit pretentious, no?” – Maebh, under her breath.

Kel’Serrar and Breanna join their companions on the rise, and observe the Naillish forces forming up. Neither of the armies seem to be eager to engage, both content to hold their formations out of range of the enemy artillery.

“I can see a banner down there with a crown on it.” – The keen-eyed Kel’Serrar, looking down at the massed Naillish forces.

“Must be their king.” – Harold.

“We should probably try and gain an audience with the commander down there, king or not. As tempting as it is to go down there and cause as much havoc as we can by ourselves, we should try to coordinate with them if they share our goals.” – Xander, to the general agreement of the rest of the party.

“Hopefully the commander is not the king. I think the king is just a boy.” – Harold, concerned.

“Inexperience would certainly explain their decision to try and besiege a major city with a smaller army than that of the defenders.” – Xander, shaking his head.

“This may well be everyone Naille could muster. They may have no others.” – Maebh, darkly.

“That might be true. If so, they’ll be desperate for aid. Could give us an advantage. I presume you have all pissed this king off at some time?” – Xander.

“I think the only thing we’ve really done which might have pissed him off is kill his ambassador in Summer Hill. With that said, Carhold was a traitor and in no fit state to fulfil his duties, so I feel like that may gain us some social credit instead.” – Harold, hopeful.

“If we are agreed on sending someone to parlay, I suggest we only send two. Don’t want panic them.” – Maebh.

“Aye, Harold and I will go. Harold to talk, me to get us out in case it goes poorly. Besides, both of us have military backgrounds, they may respond more positively to us.” – Xander.

“Who has the best Charisma and Charm Skill?” – Ladyhawk.
“Harold on both counts.” – Yohan.
“Oh hell.” – LD.
“Harold is better at talking, I’m better at hitting. Out of game, I think it may be the other way around.” – Yohan.
“Can you just, and this is in game and out of game, make sure that you keep a handle on what he says?” – Ladyhawk, to Yohan, about Dev.
“Hey, Harold’s our diplomat and party face.” – Yohan.
“That is a terrifying thought.” – Ladyhawk.
“I think, despite our looks, Harold and I are probably the least off-putting members of the group.” – Yohan, to nods from Dev, Sins and Ladyhawk.
“I’m small and furry.” – LD, laughing.
“Yeah, sure, and if you took off your hood, cloak, all your leathers, knives and poisons, then yes, you would probably not be too intimidating.” – Yohan.
“Actually scratch that, I’m jacked. Breanna’s terrifying without clothes. I am literally the reason there’s racial hard caps on stats now.” – LD.
“Breanna was physically the strongest member of the party until Xander showed up.”
“Didn’t she nearly break her wrist trying to pick a lock once though?” – Dev.
“That’s when her story started, lifting every day, smashing the protein powder.” – Ladyhawk.
“I never skip leg day either guys.” – LD.

A few moments later LD bursts out laughing.
“Sins just showed me that when I started smashing out Strength, so did he. So I had a mental image of Breanna lifting weights, then the camera zooms out and Kel’s lifting Bree and then it zooms out again and there’s Xander lifting Kel.” – LD, to raucous laughter.

A warhorn rings out over the field.
Yohan provides the requisite warhorn noise, very cinematic.
“That was very good.” – Ladyhawk.
“It was, but now a real warhorn.”
Yohan provides an adjusted sound, one which devolves into a broken note at the end, like a real warhorn, which sounds, to be frank, not much like those in the movies.
“It almost turns into a screaming goat by the end. I’m imagining the company musician may in fact have an actual goat tucked under one arm and through a mixture of squeezing and stretching it, creates the noise.” – Yohan, who then mimes doing exactly that, almost playing a goat like an accordion.

“Alright everyone, Perception Checks with Evaluation bonuses if you have any.”
Everyone passes except Xander, who fails by a lot.
“Xander looks in entirely the wrong direction.” – Dev.
“When Breanna moved to get a better look, she knocked my helm around and now it is over my eyes.” – Yohan, eyes closed and arms outstretched.

Approximately half of the Naillish forces start to move forward a touch, forming a defensive line in front of the field trebuchets, which are being unpacked and made ready to launch. The other half seems to be helping the baggage train in setting up tents and pavilions, well behind the siege equipment.

“I don’t understand, they’re well out of range…” – Harold, confused, gesturing towards the field trebuchets.

“They’re just trying to stay out of range of the city’s engines.” – Xander.

“No, look at them. These things are advanced. They may be in range after all.” – Kel’Serrar, pointing out the steel contraptions on the Naillish siege engines.

“They look like they’re setting up for a prolonged siege. They wouldn’t bother with so many tents unless they intended to stick around for a while.” – Maebh, quietly.

“We should try and gain our audience before they engage, Xander. Let’s get ready to go.” – Harold.

The companions head back to their camp and prepare. Xander takes his two greatswords, binding the hilt of the Corpsewalker Blade with a spare rag, obscuring the iconography upon the hilt. To the other sword he attaches a bolt of white cloth, like a flag. Harold takes the Gilded Sword and a smattering of other weapons, but both men feel that the less weapons they openly carry, the better, and leave the better part of the armaments behind at the camp.

Together, the Invarrian and Feartarbh make their way to the Naillish camp.

* * *

A small squad of five horsemen detach from the Naillish infantry, urging their mounts towards the hills, where an Invarrian and Feartarbh can be seen descending, waving an improvised white flag. The cavalry, clad in green and gleaming steel cuirasses and armed with long lances, gallop up to the two companions and circle around them, lances levelled.

One of the cavalry, a bearded Midlander with a green feather attached to an open-faced steel helm speaks. Harold recognises that the feathered helm denotes the Naillish military officers.

“State your intentions.” – The cavalry captain.

“I am Harold Oakenshield and this is Xander Rothgar. We would like to ask an audience with your commander. We have important news.” – Harold, speaking up.

“I see you are both heavily armed. If you will surrender your weapons, that meeting can possibly be arranged.” – Naillish captain.

“I would understand if you intend to try and restrain us, but I fear you have no bonds which could hold me.” – Xander, tall enough to look the mounted captain directly in the eye.

“Do I have your word that you will do no harm?” – The Naillish captain, with an appraising look at the two companions.

“You have my word, upon my life and the honour of my clan.” – Xander, solemnly.

“That is good enough for me.” – Naillish captain, nodding in satisfaction.

Xander is loaded up like a pack mule, with all the weapons they saw fit to bring with them slung over his back, out of easy access. Then the riders slowly escort Harold and Xander to the rear of the Naillish forces.

The game was then interrupted by the players comparing their respective armouries. As expected, Harold’s collection was the greatest, but Breanna’s massive selection of knives came a close second. Yohan suggested that the saddle on his shoulder may have possibly incorporated a closed compartment of some sort, which acted as a handy storage space for Breanna’s various weapons.

The scouts lead Harold and Xander past the artillery and then through the camp. Closer to, they can see the trebuchets are very advanced, with sophisticated pulley systems allowing a swift reload, a steel-reinforced launching arm and a system which increases the momentum of the counterbalance when the payload is launched. Speaking of the payload, neither of the companions can determine exactly what they are. They look almost like large clay pots rather than a more traditional missile, but there is no way of knowing from this distance what is inside.

“Those things are going to range over a mile.” – Xander, in an undertone to Harold.

Eventually Harold and Xander are led to a large green and white striped pavilion, flags waving proudly in the morning breeze, bearing red sparrows on a green field, replete with golden crowns. A troop of soldiers in heavy armour, tall shields at their backs and halberds in hand, guard the tent and, after a brief conversation with the scout captain, allow Xander and Harold into the tent, relieving Xander of their weapons before they enter.
“And I just let it happen.” – Yohan, laughing.

Entering the command tent, the first thing they notice is the large table set in the middle of the room. Upon it sits a fairly accurate representation of Elspeth City, along with several coloured wooden blocks, which look as if they indicate the troop positions on the field before the city. Opposite the door is a high, intricately carved wooden chair, flanked by two men, one a heavily armoured, shaggy brown-furred Feartarbh, the hilt of a large greatsword visible over his shoulder and a truly massive axe, the blade of which is embedded in the patchy grass beside him. Even bigger than Xander, the Feartarbh looks over the new arrivals with a keen interest, scarred and heavily muscled arms crossed over his enormous chest. The other man is a Midlander, tall for his race, clad in a dark green robe, middle-aged and bearded. He is generally nondescript in appearance, but he does have a rather thick golden chain clasping a grey cloak.

Upon the chair between the two is a small, dark-haired Midlander boy, perhaps 12 years old. The expression on his face is that of someone who is unsure of every move he makes. His clothes are rich, and he wears a nice coat with an ermine fur trim on his thin shoulders. His hands bear three rings, all of which seem slightly too large for his slender fingers. Upon his head sits a thin crown of silvered steel, and this suits him well, unlike the other regalia he wears.

Around the table, three Midlander men stand in debate, two in the rich green officer’s uniform of the Nailish command, the third in steel plate armour, a feathered helm carried under his arm. All three have the bearing of long military service. Attending them are a scattered handful of pages, girls and boys ranging from 10 to 16 years of age, predominantly Midlanders, each carrying platters of food and drink.

As Harold and Xander enter the room accompanied by another page, the robed man is stooped slightly, whispering something to the boy on the chair. The mood in the room seems grim, and the officers are arguing around the table.

“My king, lords, may I present Harold Oakenshield and Xander Rothgar at the bequest of Captain Matthias.” – The page, ushering the companions into the pavilion.

The boy is given a gentle nudge by the robed man and, after a brief pause while he remembers his line, speaks.

“Come forward then, and speak.” – The king of Naille, in a surprisingly confident voice.

Xander and Harold walk past the war-table and approach the king, halting at a respectful distance. Behind them, the argument begins anew, but in more hushed tones. Harold bows to the king.

“King, I am Harold Oakenshield of Varr, my companion is Xander Rothgar. To get right to the point, my companions and I offer you our aid.” – Harold, straightening again, maintaining eye-contact with the young king.

“I appreciate it. How many do you bring?” – The king, already perking up a little.

“Ah, well, five.” – Harold.

The disappointment on the face of the king is palpable.

“My company is five battle-hardened veterans, one of them, one of the greatest mages of our age.” – Harold, trying to salvage the situation a little.

“I mean no disrespect to you or your companions, Sir Oakenshield, but I fear five soldiers will not avail us greatly.” – The king, disappointed.

“King, have you ever heard of The Crag?” – Harold.

The boy shakes his head, but the robed man leans down and starts to whisper in his ear. His eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“I had not heard of The Crag, but my advisor here has. Your mage… They say she destroyed a mountain?” – The king, wide-eyed and awe-struck.

“Stories are always exaggerated. In truth, she almost single-handedly took the main gate to the fortress. However, between us, we took the fortress as a whole.” – Harold.

“You see-“ – The king, who looks up at his advisor and receives an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

The king’s jaw sets and his eyes harden slightly as he turns back to the companions.

“We are here to prevent something from coming to pass.” – The king, ignoring the slight nudge from his advisor.

“The Greyflood Prophecy?” – Harold.

Now he has their attention. Silence descends over the tent as the captains’ debate turns still. All eyes are on the Invarrian as the king slowly nods.

“An old prophecy of my people. King, with your permission, may my companion retrieve one of our belongings from outside the tent?” – Harold, entreating the king.

“Is it a weapon?” – The king’s robed advisor, to Harold’s nod of affirmation.

“Would you allow Heriman here to retrieve it for you?” – The robed advisor, gesturing to the massive Feartarbh standing on the other side of the king.

“Obtaining that weapon came at incredible cost and hardship. We would prefer to have no others touch it. If your efforts are aligned with ours, then there is nothing to fear from us.” – Xander, quietly.

“This weapon is also an ancient artefact of my people, an heirloom of the first Stormlord of Varr.” – Harold, shaking his head.

I asked for a Charm Check here, which was very narrowly passed.

“Very well, please allow Ser Rothgar to retrieve their belongings.” – The king, projecting his voice to the guards outside the pavilion, who nod as Xander lumbers over to them.

The hulking Feartarbh picks up both Gilded Swords from their small pile of undisturbed arms, and returns the true Gilded Sword to Harold, who draws it gently from its makeshift sheathe.

“This is the sword from the Greyflood Prophecy, recovered at great cost from a sunken temple on Varr.” – Harold, presenting the blade to the young king.

For his part, the king is absolutely captivated by the artefact, the swirling designs on the golden, leaf-shaped blade, the intricate hilt, the almost magnetic pull it exudes and the razor-sharp edge. The king, it would appear, is a bit of a sword nerd.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” – The king, softly.

“This entire scene almost seems like a bit of, ‘All hail King PG,’ to me.” – Sins.
“I’ll admit, at the moment, his reactions are basically me just looking at Albion’s catalogue.”

The king’s advisor however is looking at Xander, still holding his own massive blade.

“I see you retrieved a second weapon, Ser Rothgar. Should we be concerned?” – The advisor, clearly starting to worry a little.

“No need to be concerned, I simply felt we should be entirely forthright with you. This blade was captured in Summer Hill, from a man I believe, from what my companions have told me at least, was once one of your own.” – Xander, withdrawing the rag tied around the iconography on the hilt and presenting the offending designs to the king and advisor both.

Between the quillons on one side sits the inscribed and enamelled sigil of the Carhold family, on the other, in brilliant blue, the banner of Elspeth.

“I see. We had heard a little of what occurred in Summer Hill and as such had some idea of what became of Edmond Carhold. Clearly, this is the final proof, if it was needed, of him being in league with Elspeth. You won it through force of arms. May it serve you well.” – The king’s advisor.

Xander nods, and slings the sword over his shoulder with a thoughtful expression on his face, stepping back.

“So this is the sword which the prophecy speaks of… What do you need?” – The king, at first still a little lost in the beauty of the sword before him before looking up at Harold, a determined look in his eye.

“Honestly, we need the biggest distraction you can provide while we get inside the city to disrupt whatever ritual is happening in there. Any information you might have from spies in the city would be handy as well.” – Harold, wrapping the Gilded Sword up again.

“Unfortunately our spies are, well, they’re dead. We had five people in the city, but two weeks ago we received word of a public execution within the walls. Our insurgents were put to death and we began the march immediately.” – The king, sadly.

“But your spies got into the city easily enough?” – Harold.

“Sure, but that was probably over a month ago and the city was not on war-footing at the time, with an army outside the gates. It will be an entirely different task today.” – Xander, interjecting, to nods from the king’s advisor and the captains behind.

“Indeed, you will likely need cover of darkness to get into the city, and even that will be difficult.” – King’s advisor.

“We do not doubt it, hence why the bigger the distraction caused by your forces, the better. My lord, I’m sure you trust your commanders, and they appear competent men, but we might be able to provide assistance with the tactical planning. This is not the first fortified location my companions have taken.” – Xander, gesturing to the model city on the war-table.

“That’s right, we are professional poor decision makers.” – Sins.

“With that said, what would you suggest? Seeing what we have done so far, what would you have us do?” – The armoured Naillish captain, honestly curious.

“It may be best if we summon all our companions to get their input. They’re smarter than us…” – Xander, the last bit whispered under his breath.

“That can be arranged.” – The king’s advisor, clapping his hands together.

“I must warn you, they are two Danann and a Leathe, and are known to be both abrasive and up-front in their criticism and comments.” – Xander, with a tone of suffering.

“We are the most tactful members of our company.” – Harold, making a truly horrific statement, as in a statement which is both true and horrific.

“So I apologise in advance for their behaviour, because I can almost guarantee they’re going to piss someone off. If someone here takes offence to something one of them says, I won’t say they don’t mean it, because they probably do, but rather I hope that it won’t come to blows. ” – Xander, in a blanket statement to the room.

“I prefer to think of it as honesty rather than poor behaviour.” – Sins.

Xander accompanies a small squad of horsemen back to the companions’ encampment while Harold remains in the command tent, talking with the king. Before he leaves, the Feartarbh leans in to the Invarrian.

“Don’t let that sword out of your sight.” – Xander, whispering to Harold before clapping the Invarrian on the shoulder and leaving the pavilion.

* * *

Within the hour, the cavalry return. Amongst them a Feartarbh, with a Leathe upon his shoulder, a Danann riding a large black horse and an Invarrian, hooded and cloaked with a powerful longbow in hand. Two pony-sized marcwolves race amongst the horses and a large, armoured lizard lays across the back of Maebh’s horse, basking in the morning sun. Their motley band receives no small number of questioning looks from the Naillish soldiers and members of the supply train, as they are led to the command tent. Along the way, Kel’Serrar’s keen sight picks up wisps of spirit magic surrounding a small cabal of robed figures, sitting away from the rest of the army.

Approaching the command tent, the guards almost instinctively move to bar Xander’s way before letting him through. Upon arriving back in the tent, the king nods to Xander, with a somewhat surprised look at Breanna, who nimbly leaps down from the Feartarbh’s shoulder and grabs a piece of fruit from one of the serving pages. Then the two marcwolves come bounding in, to the sound of muffled shouts from outside the tent. Bach makes a beeline straight for Harold, while Wolfgang fairly tackles one of the pages and starts devouring the spilled food from the platter.

Xander helps the young boy to his feet and then retrieves a sack of dried meat from his pack.

“It’s okay, they’re trained, they’re trained.” – Breanna, having found a spare seat in the corner of the tent, she now lounges in it, eating her fruit.

Maebh and Kel’Serrar enter the room too, the latter looking identical to Harold, save for the ranger’s thick black cloak. Crithtaluin is laid across Maebh’s shoulders, sleeping.

Seeing Xander pulling meat out of the sack, Bach and Wolfgang immediately run to the corner, where Xander piles up the food for them. Draped over Maebh’s shoulders, Crithtaluin stirs, tongue flicking out to taste the air, then goes back to sleep.

“Could you spare a piece Xander?” – Maebh, absent-mindedly stroking the mantikor’s tail hanging over her shoulder. It gently takes the meat from the mage’s fingers when she offers it.

The captains move aside from the table and allow the companions to see the war-table clearly.

“First things first, we’ll need a distraction to get into the city.” – Harold, almost to himself.

“Has anyone seen the Queen?” – Maebh.

“Not on the field. Our spies’ last reports had her in the city, but that information is old.” – One of the unarmoured captains.

“What range do you have on your siege equipment?” – Xander, looking around at the gathered captains, who all turn to look at the other unarmoured captain, a shorter, grey-haired man with spectacles.

“I cannot say exactly, but we are confident that our engines outrange the city’s defences. At the very least, we should be able to draw a bead on the curtain wall while still outside their capacity to strike at us.” – The siege engineer captain.

“You should ask about what’s in the clay pots too.” – Dev, to Yohan.
“You’re here though, you could ask…” – Yohan, confused.
“Yeah, but… No, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” – Dev.
“Xander, ask about the pots. I am too regal to do so myself. Do it for me, slave.” – Yohan, in as posh an accent as he could muster.
“Dim the lights, Xander dear.” – LD, following suit.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you intend to launch from those trebuchets? We saw some clay pots of some kind as we came in…” – Harold, directing his question to the engineer captain.

The captain glances towards the king’s advisor before responding.

“Yes, many of those clay pots you would have seen are incendiaries, but we have a few other options too.” – Engineer captain.

“You would possibly be the man to talk to about this. Do you have some way of sending you a signal from within the city if need be?” – Xander, to the engineer captain.

“Ah, well, yes, I guess I do.” – The engineer captain who turns and sends a page out of the tent.

Moments later, the page returns with small device and a leather pouch. Essentially, the device is like a slingshot, and the pouch contains a handful of balls made of some alchemical substance which flares with a bright coloured flame when set alight.

“It isn’t military, it’s my personal device, but it should do the job.” – Engineer captain, inspecting the device before offering it to the Feartarbh.

“Tell you what, I may not return from this venture alive. I’d like to compensate you for your work.” – Xander, who takes his coin-pouch and hands it to the man, who gasps a little at the weight.

Xander just gave this captain all his money, which included five Crowns. A truly exorbitant figure. As you can imagine, the captain is astounded at this generosity, and so he should be, but it is let down a little by the fact that Xander himself has very little concept of the worth of money. He understands how it works, but has no real idea just how much he has given away.

Xander then removes his vambrace and asks the man if it would be possible to have the device attached to the plate armour. The captain readily agrees and proceeds to leave the tent.

“So then, let us plan.” – The king’s advisor.

* * *

Back with Part 2 soon. :smallsmile:

Phoenixguard09
2019-07-28, 08:33 AM
And we're back.

The next few hours pass swiftly as the companions plan the assault with the aid of the Naillish commanders. At some stage in this, the king feels as if the discussions are starting to get into the real minutiae and approaches a visibly bored Breanna, asking her if she will supervise him while he meets the marcwolves. She does so, and is unable to restrain an excited Wolfgang from pouncing on the boy, knocking him to the ground and licking him furiously. At first, the king laughs, but Wolfgang’s claws are long and sharp and the marcwolf is heavy, and the king’s laughing quickly turns into slight cries of pain. After some time, Breanna and Xander are able to restrain the young wolf and the king rights himself, wiping the drool, tears and blood away as best he can. He gives them a somewhat weak smile and retreats back to his seat.

Discussion turns to what the companions must leave behind if they are to infiltrate the fortress. They determine they shall take only the weapons they absolutely need, and leave all their various animals behind. To best infiltrate the fortress, they decide to hide in the woodland to the south of the city, and they will leave their animals and all their belongings they will not carry behind at a campsite there.

Xander personally presents his own sword to the king, the Feartarbh’s claymore a fine example of the swordsmith’s art in its own right.

“Good king, please take this blade as a gift. I understand it cannot serve you as a blade should, but it is not something which will assist me greatly in the fight to come, and it deserves a finer home than I can give it.” – Xander, with the massive weapon, sheathed and held in two hands before him.

“This is a kingly gift. I accept it, but if one day you should seek its return, come to me and it is yours.” – The king, who reverently takes the weapon, and then grunts slightly at the weight as the hulking Feartarbh hands it over.

The king personally shakes the hand of each and every one of the companions, or attempts to anyway, as Xander’s massive grasp makes the assignment rather difficult. He wishes them well, as do all the captains, the engineer having returned with Xander’s bracer, now with the slingshot hastily riveted in place to a small bracket.

The companions make their way out of the encampment, as the afternoon sun starts to dip in the sky…

* * *

Back in the southern copse of woodland, at Xander’s suggestion, the companions pack their belongings together into their respective tents and, with Breanna’s help, sling the bundles in the trees with some lengths of rope.

Maebh takes some time with Toirneach as the afternoon sun starts to set. There is a little sadness and trepidation at their parting, but the horse understands the reasons for which his master must leave. He nuzzles her and sends a mental pulse that he will not allow any harm to befall the two marcwolves or her mantikor.

As the afternoon draws on, the Naillish army starts to mobilise, wheeling towards the fortified city. Their artillery slowly draws into position, dragged by teams of leathery-skinned great beasts at first, then adjusted by hand by the crews. Arranged outside the city, the Elspeth legions start to adjust their positions too, setting themselves into something of a crescent, designed to envelope the smaller Naillish force.

The dusk glow of the sunset as it fades into the western ocean behind the city provides ample illumination as the Naillish artillery lets loose their opening salvo, at what seems at first to be a distance well beyond their range. A wave of projectiles sails forth, and they travel significantly beyond the walls of the city, and over the cliffs on the far side. The crews hastily begin to make adjustments to their engines, and the next volley is more effective, a good few projectiles smashing into the near curtain wall and others deeper in the city itself. Smoke and the tell-tale glow of fire begins to emanate from within the city walls, and outside the sound of bells, shouts and screaming can be heard. The incendiaries are proving effective. The Elspeth legions move forward at a swifter rate, and the Naillish army moves likewise to meet them on the field between the city and the siege engines, under a darkening, blood-red sky.

Upon the wall, relatively evenly interspersed and generally taking cover from the bombardment are what seems like uniformed soldiery, clad in steel helms and mail hauberks with liveried surcoats. Most carry crossbows, some carry spears and all seem to have a shield over their backs. Many of these well-trained soldiers have left their posts to assist in the firefighting efforts, particularly those on the southern stretch of wall, the section of the wall closest to the still-hidden companions.

“Remember, we don’t want to reveal our presence until we have no other choice.” – Maebh, rasping a whetstone over the blade of her spear.

“Very well, I’ll be with you every step of the way.” – Kel’Serrar, who then appears to blink out of existence.

There is silence for a few moments, with only the sounds of the conflict in and around the city to be heard.

“Also, perhaps we should hide the big one.” – Kel’Serrar’s disembodied voice as Xander feels a hand rest upon his upper arm.

Xander too, disappears.

* * *

As the shadows spread over the fields outside the city, the companions make their move. Xander and Breanna reach the wall first, and the hulking Feartarbh holds his hands out to the Leathe, boosting her up and over the crenellations. The black-furred assassin, a small bolt clenched between her teeth, sails over the wall, and can see three faces beneath her, upturned and looking directly at her, three guards watching this immediate section of the wall. As she glides through the air, the Leathe takes her hand-crossbow and looses the already loaded bolt, taking one of the startled Midlander guards in the eye. The man hasn’t even fallen before the Leathe’s hands move in a blur, taking the bolt she held in her teeth and loading her weapon, and she shoots again, the little steel projectile punching into another guard’s throat.

Without even touching the top of the wall, Breanna sails over, landing on the ground on the other side of the wall, rolling with the impact and immediately seeking shelter in the gathering shadows behind a nearby building.

“Go, go, go!” – Harold, exhorting the others over the wall, as Xander prepares to launch Maebh to the top of the wall.

One by one, Maebh, Harold and lastly an invisible Kel, are propelled up by Xander and swiftly drop down to the other side. The body of one of the slain guards slowly slumps to the ground and topples off the edge of the wall to the ground below. The surviving guard scrabbles at his belt, face panicked, his fingers tightening on a simple horn. He raises it to his lips and blows, three short, staccato notes, and a nearby troop of guards from a different section of the wall make their way over at a steady pace.

“By the way Dev, we have the name of Harold’s next ship. The Flying Dogman.” – Sins.

A patrol of guards, at least twenty strong rounds a corner and moves down the street towards the hidden companions at a steady jog, intent on investigating the horn-call. At the fore, a bearded captain of the guard, an eagle etched onto his steel helm and a well-made sword in hand. He holds up his other hand, and orders the company to halt.

“Hold on, I’ve got this.” – Breanna, whose eyes gleam briefly red before she closes them.

The horn blast rings out in the night air once more, accompanied by the sounds of screaming, this time from a location closer to the main gate. The captain of the patrol raises his sword.

“That’s the signal lads, go, go, go!” – The captain, breaking into a run and leading the patrol away from the hidden party.

Breanna’s eyes open and she grins, her phantom noise successful.

“Very good Bree. Now what?” – Maebh.

“We wait for Xander, no?” – Harold, looking furtively for further guard movement.

They do not have to wait long before a horrible clanking sound, that of iron or steel being smashed heavily into worked stone, can be heard echoing up from the outside of the wall. The surviving guard on the top of the wall, looks down, but can see nothing. An arrow flashes through the night air, catching the guard in the back of the neck and sending him tumbling over the wall, to land on the grass outside the city.

The clanking ceases as the invisible Xander heaves himself to the top of the wall. The Feartarbh looks for a way down, but is convinced that dropping down from the top of the wall would be too loud, and he himself may be too heavy to do so without injury. He turns to his left, towards the closed door of a tower, trusting that there will be a flight of stairs he can take. Just as he reaches out towards the door, it opens outwards into him, and there is a surprised yelp and a solid thud.

Down on the ground, the companions see the gigantic Feartarbh blink back into existence as the impact of the door breaks Kel’Serrar’s illusion upon Xander.

“Who is that?” – Elspeth guard, trying to open the door enough to see who would be blocking his way. Unsurprisingly, the door does not budge, as Xander’s formidable weight is far too great for the guard to shift.

“****, can someone take him out? If I do, the whole city will know about it.” – Maebh, in a quiet hiss to the rest of the party.

“Yeah, we’re not at that point yet. We might be soon, but not quite yet.” – Yohan, laughing.

Breanna takes up her crossbow and looses another bolt, aiming for the sliver of the guard’s face she can barely see. The bolt sails wide, over the wall, missing completely. She gives the small contraption a swift rap against her thigh.

“Seriously? How could you miss that badly?” – Breanna, quietly blaming her weapon.

Xander listens carefully, and he thinks he can pick out the voices of three separate individuals in the tower.

“Well, I could try to lie to them, but my Charisma is god-awful. So then we go to my next idea, which is violence.” – Yohan.
“I thought we were keeping quiet?” – Ladyhawk.
“I’m thinking loud violence for like a split second and then I can try to disappear into the streets. Definitely more likely to work than trying to lie to them. Full strength cow-kick the door in, hopefully distract them and dive off the wall while they’re not looking.” – Yohan.
“That could just decapitate the first bloke with the door.” – Dev.
“That’s fine. Just collateral damage. Proceeding with the plan. Hmm, only one degree of success on the Strength Check. Can I spend a Luck Point to re-roll?” – Yohan.
“Absolutely. One degree wouldn’t do much.”
“That’s better. 04 under 105. Ten degrees of success.” – Yohan.

The wooden door is pulverised by the impact, as a giant, cloven hoof blasts through the wood, catching the guard in the chest. His ribs are shattered as he is propelled backwards, through the opposite door of the tower, over the wall and then off the cliff, too surprised to even scream on the way down. For a split second, Xander can see the horrified expressions on the faces of the other two guards in the tower before he takes his shield and dives shoulder-first into the ground beneath the wall. The impact is loud and bone-rattling as Xander’s shield and then his shoulder absorbs the dive, before noisily picking himself up, left arm hanging loosely at his side, to attempt to disappear into the darkened streets.

From their hiding place, the other companions can hear a swiftly approaching patrol, and they round the corner, approaching the source of the commotion. Seven guards, Midlanders all, three armed with crossbows, the others with spears and shields at the ready, a captain at their forefront, the only one amongst them with a sword at his belt, a mustard yellow-dyed leather covering over his left shoulder. They approach cautiously, weapons trained on the strange sight ahead of them.

Back against the stone wall, Xander stands, entirely covered by two gigantic tower shields held together before him, concealed by them, save for his huge, curving horns, which jut out and above the upper-most rim of the shields. The patrol edges forward, and the captain directs the crossbowmen to advance. The crossbowmen raise their weapons to shoot.

“In my defence, I was left unsupervised.” – Yohan.

In the split second before they loose, a grizzled Invarrian breaks cover, sword and sabre in hand, cleaving into the small phalanx of spearmen. The first blow opens a gaping wound in the captain’s chest before the return swing comes back and practically bisects the man. Turning, the Invarrian jams a sword through the chest of a second victim and lashes out at a third before facing down the last two spearmen, putting himself in between them and the crossbowmen.

Behind him, the three crossbowmen loose at Xander. Three bolts flash across the intervening distance, punching into the shields, and one skids up and over the rim of the right-most shield, tearing a bloody groove into the Feartarbh’s cheek.

Breanna darts into the midst of the crossbowmen, silvery dagger in hand. She has never used this particular weapon before, since obtaining it in the ancient, submerged temple of Werencha, and therefore what it does next surprises her. She punches the blade through the knee of one of the crossbowmen, withdrawing it swiftly with a spurt of blood. The guard screams, and moves to clutch at his knee. The spurting blood coalesces in the air, forming into a blade of sorts, almost a shard of magically hardened blood, which shoots into the neck of wounded guard, neatly severing the man’s head. It carries through, punching through the chest of another crossbowman, who sinks to his knees, desperately trying to control the blood pouring from a gaping wound in his torso.

An arrow flashes across the street, punching through the back of the final crossbowman’s head, as Kel’Serrar flickers back into view, lowering his bow after loosing the arrow.

Seeing his companions assault the guards, Xander drops both shields and draws the Corpsewalker Blade from over his shoulder, crossing the handful of paces between himself and the patrol with frightening speed and literally cutting the uninjured spearman in half with a single powerful strike, cleaving through the shield the man hastily tried to raise in protection.

“How about you lay down that spear, go home, and try to forget everything that’s happened to you so far tonight?” – Harold, to the final guard, himself bleeding profusely from a wound in his side.

The spearman looks from Harold to the spear in his hand, and then back to Harold, whereupon the Invarrian punches him straight in the face, knocking the man unconscious in a single blow.

“Just wouldn’t be a Charm Check without someone getting punched.” – Dev.

* * *

Having hidden the bodies and taken a few moments to patch up Xander and Harold, the companions gather not far from the wall of the inner keep. A sharp horn blast carries through the night air from the field outside the city, a charge signal, and significant numbers of Elspeth troops held in reserve within the city begin to move out the gates.

“They’re moving out.” – Breanna, from her vantage point clinging to the chimney of a house.

“If we go quickly, we might be able use this to our advantage. If they’re heading out into the field, they won’t be looking for insurgents within the city.” – Maebh, to the others as Breanna drops down to the city street.

Swiftly and silently, the party moves through the streets towards the closest stretch of the high, white marble wall of the inner keep. They have to dodge a few patrols along the way, but luckily are able to do so with little difficulty. Finally they find themselves huddled behind the corner of a house, looking up at the high wall, and the crossbow armed guards upon it.

This battalion of keep-guard looks to be more heavily armoured than the general guard of the city, with chainmail veils riveted to their steel helms, obscuring their features below their eyes. Crews nervously wait near tower-mounted trebuchets, awaiting the order to loose.

One guard leans over the wall to spit, and for a moment, sees a tall, slender, spear-armed figure standing next to a house. He spits, and starts to continue on his patrol along the wall, but turns and looks back out. The tall figure is gone, and the streets appear empty.

“Did anyone see anything?” – The startled guard, peering into the darkness below, to the rest of the patrol. The other guards give answers in the negative, and the patrol moves on.

Below, huddled against the house, Maebh breathes heavily. She’d been a little careless, and it had nearly brought them to ruin.

“Okay, how do we want to do this? We’ve been standing here wasting time for a while now, but we’re no closer to getting in.” – Kel’Serrar, peering up at the top of the wall from around the corner of the house.

“Who is in favour of me going to the front gate and lying my arse off?” – Harold, visibly frustrated.

“Honestly, no worse a plan than many others we might have.” – Kel’Serrar, nodding.

“If we can just get the patrols cleared off the top of the walls for a bit, we can get a grappling hook up there and we can climb over.” – Xander, patting the gigantic iron contraption at his belt.

“Okay, Bree and I can do that then. We’ll get to the top and try to clear it, then Xander throws the hook and the rest of you come up to join us.” – Kel, who pulls two steel claw-like devices out of his pack, and affixes them to his wrists.

“Now, hold on a minute, look at this grappling hook here. I’m strong, but I don’t think I can throw this fifty yards straight up in the air.” – Xander, gesturing to the hook, which began life as a small ship’s anchor.

“Okay, give it here, I’ll climb up with it, set it and throw the rope down to you.” – Breanna, her small frame belying her insane strength.

“I’ll set my own hook up on the other side so we have a direct path down too. See you at the top, maybe.” – Kel’Serrar, who grins and then blinks out of sight.

* * *

The invisible Leathe and Danann make swift process up the stone wall, almost silently other than the slight metallic rasp of Kel’s climbing claws. Breanna makes it to the top first, and is startled by the presence of a guard, mere feet away. He passes by, and together, silently, Breanna and Kel’Serrar step onto the top of the wall.

The invisible Danann takes his own grappling hook off his belt, and silently affixes it to the wall, gently lowering a rope down on the far side. Behind him, Breanna hefts the gigantic grappling hook Xander gave her, and her strength fails her. The steel anchor rasps on the stone crenellation and the guard which had passed their point turns, and spots a small figure shrouded in darkness, guiltily adjusting the position of a gigantic grappling hook.

“Who goes there? Halt!” – The guard, swiftly marching towards the disturbance, torch in one hand and spear in the other. He is a tall man, for a Midlander, his face masked by a veil of chainmail. He is also clearly confused by what he is seeing.

“****!” – Maebh, who then mutters an incantation under her breath.

The guard stops, a slight golden frost riming him. He is held entirely in place by Maebh’s power. Unbeknownst to all, an invisible Kel slowly sidles up to the helpless guard, concentrating on maintaining his spell and lays his fingertips on the man’s back, the chill of Maebh’s spell quite uncomfortable. Slowly, using only the most minimal effort, Kel slides the guard towards the crenellations and tips him over the wall.

“I don’t even question the weird **** that happens around me anymore. What’s happened to me?” – Breanna, muttering to herself.

“I can catch him right? I’d be the only one that could, yes?” – Yohan.
“Yes, this is a fully armoured man falling approximately 50 metres. I’d say that Maebh or Harold would definitely be crushed, but Xander might be able to.”
“Okay, what would I roll against?” – Yohan.
“Hand eye coordination is normally Dexterity man.”
“Okay, but, like, I use Combat Skill to block incoming attacks. In a way, that’s kind of what I’m doing.” – Yohan.
“You want to, Parry him?” – Dev.
“Yeah, use that Guardian ability to parry an attack on an ally. The ground is the ally, the guard is my projectile weapon.” – Sins, who is very good at finding loopholes. an ass-hat.
“Yohan, what’s your Dex?”
“28.” – Yohan, dejected, to the disappointed sighs of the rest of the table.
“Yeah sorry man, roll away.”

He rolled a 06.

A faint golden glowing statue of a guard slowly tips over the side of the wall, to be safely caught in the gigantic arms of Xander Rothgar, who honestly looks surprised. One gigantic hand rests on the captive man’s chest, the other supports his head. The Feartarbh, holding the guard

“Hurry, there’s more guards coming.” – Breanna, in a quiet, hissing whisper down to her companions at the base of the wall. She then hugs the now affixed anchor, hoping that the shroud of her daemonic magic will hide the massive steel object from any approaching guards.

Below, Xander looks at the guard in his hands, unsure if the cold, statue-like figure is still alive after such a fall.

“I take no pleasure in this, but we can’t have you raising the alarm. I am sorry.” – Xander, who attempts to break the man’s neck, but is perhaps a little too strong for his own good, and twists the guard’s head entirely off, ripping through flesh and bone. The Feartarbh retches a little, drops the two pieces of the guard, and follows Harold and Maebh up the thick rope, as quietly as he can manage.

“I guess, I tried to pull a little more because of the armour, but, well, too much pull. Way, way too much pull.” – Yohan.

“Bree, quiet now. I’m going to try something. You’re going to look like that guard. Just don’t try any speaking or anything, cause it won’t be right.” – Kel, still invisible, who lays a hand on the shrouded figure of Breanna. To anyone watching, Breanna is now the mirror image of the now deceased guard.

“What do you mean it won’t be right?” – Breanna, in a confused whisper.

“Your voice is basically coming out of his sternum Bree, and you still sound like a little girl. Now quiet!” – Kel, his disembodied voice whispering back.

As an aside, and fittingly for our last real adventure together, Dev rolled a 99 on his Climb Check for Harold here. He re-rolled it with a Luck Point, but we got to crack out the good old, ‘Which one’s the tens?’ again, one last time.

“Wait a minute, I don’t think that worked properly…” – Kel, muttering to himself.

Before him, there’s a shadowy figure still clinging to the anchor, but protruding from the top of it, the illusory shape of the top half of the guard, from approximately the bottom of his ribcage up. It looks unnatural, and that is what Harold, Maebh and Xander see as they reach the top of the wall.

“Oh gods, Bree, what are you doing?” – Harold, disturbed.

“Shhh, just get over the wall. Kel’s set up the hook on the other side, go, go, go.” – Breanna, whispering back.

Harold darts over the wall and begins his descent, and Maebh begins to clamber her way up onto the wall.

“Stop, Maebh, stop! Stay still, someone’s coming.” – The disembodied voice of Kel, in a hissed whisper as a guard, torch in hand, approaches along the wall from the east.

The guard spots Breanna, or rather, can see a bit of another guard in the darkness, leaning out over the wall, and calls out.

“Harry, is that you?” – The guard.

Mindful of Kel’s advice, Breanna does not speak, but merely waves in response.

“Are you… Are you drunk on duty Harry? We’re at war, there’s literally a battle outside the gates, you can’t be drinking on duty!” – The guard.

Breanna, sweating profusely, just waves at the guard, in a somewhat non-committal fashion.

“Look, Harry, are you okay?” – The guard, clearly concerned. He starts to move closer to Breanna, but she just waves her hand again, and nods.

“Okay LD, I’ll get you to roll Deception please, with some pretty hefty negatives.”
“But you do get a bonus +20 from Mislead.” – Sins.
“Sweet, means a +40 bonus all up.” – LD, who proceeds to roll a 03.
“I cannot believe this is working.”

“Well, alright Harry, if you say so. Stay out of trouble, and keep your eyes peeled.” – The guard, who turns around and heads back the way he came.

Maebh alights on the top of the wall and immediately begins her climb down on the other side, joining Harold in the shadows at the base of the wall inside the keep. Following her, Xander finally clambers to the top and huddles next to the shaky Breanna.

“Well done. I can’t believe that worked. You look like an abomination.” – Xander, quietly.

“I can’t believe it either. This is a hot mess.” – Breanna, to a confused expression from Xander, who doesn’t understand what the young people say these days, or something like that.

As they sit there together, they can see the faint, almost golden glimmer of the Harvest Moon rising out over the ocean.

“It won’t be long now then. The queen’s probably starting her ritual.” – Xander, quietly.

“I don’t think my grappling hook is going to hold you Xander.” – The still invisible Kel’Serrar, who is keeping watch in both directions for more guards.

“No, it won’t. This thing barely did. I’m going to shift it over. Xander, wait here, don’t move.” – Breanna, who awkwardly takes the massive grappling hook, taking it over to the other side of the wall and tries to set it in place there. The sight is bizarre, as the upper half of a crouched Elspeth Queensguard appears to be projected from a vague shadowy shape hauling a small anchor.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” – Kel’Serrar, who slides down the rope of his own grappling hook and joins Maebh and Harold at the base of the wall. The three huddle in the shadows at the base of the wall, looking out over an empty, wide, stone courtyard.

Breanna tries to affix the hook again, and yet again it scrapes on the stone, and the noise rings out in the night air. It draws the attention of the inquisitive guard from before, who turns and starts making his way back. Seeing this, Xander immediately drops down from the top of the wall, holding onto the edge of the crenellations by his fingertips, hoping that he wasn’t seen.

“Harry! We need to talk!” – The guard, returning.

Breanna sighs, and releases the hold on her own magic, allowing the shadowy shroud around her to fall away, relying entirely on the Kel’Serrar’s arcane workings. She straightens, leaving the anchor unsecured, and stands in front of it, hoping to hide it with her illusory body.

“Harry, are you okay? I know we’ve had this talk already, and it has only been a week, but we really need to see you making some changes, yeah?” – The guard, who comes entirely too close to Breanna, the light emanating from the torch he holds down in his hand, just about blinding the Leathe, who is about a foot shorter in height than the man she’s impersonating.

“Can I just say, this has been our most successful mission by a ****ing mile. I mean, for starters, we haven’t resorted to nuking the city yet.” – Yohan.
“You’re just saying that to distract everyone from the fact that you murdered Harry.” – Dev.
“Xander’s a monster.” – LD.
“Xander’s a beast. He’d kill at cross-fit.” – Yohan.
“I think most cross-fit classes frown upon in-class murder.”

“Look, Harry, are you back on the crash again?” – The guard, concerned.

Breanna just shakes her head.

“No, don’t give me that rubbish, look at you. You’re falling asleep on the job, falling over, you’re always unsteady, hurting yourself. You’re breaking our hearts Harry!” – The guard, starting to become rather animated.

Crash is a colloquial term for a relatively common narcotic in the Midlands. It goes a by a few other names, but it is relatively inexpensive, highly addictive and considered an illicit substance in most lands. While not directly dangerous to the user’s health, the effects it has on the user can lead to one getting into all sorts of trouble as they become lethargic, unsteady and, after extensive periods of use, they start to suffer hallucinations.

“Sounds like you might have performed a mercy killing.” – Sins, to Yohan.

“Look, Laurel told me if you don’t give it up, she’ll take the kids and go. You need to stop.” – The guard, voice starting to choke up.

Breanna nods, and holds a hand up to her throat as if she too is choking up.

“Why won’t you talk to me Harry!?” – The guard, clearly distraught.

Bree can’t think of anything, so she just shrugs. She can see that, while the guard is still buying it, none of this is making sense to him. He’s starting to get suspicious.

“Harry, we just want what’s best for you. We’re your friends, your family.” – The guard, trying to get closer to Breanna / Harry, but the disguised Leathe subtly, imperceptibly, backs away. Slowly but surely, she’s getting closer and closer to where Xander is still hanging, muscles straining to stay on the wall, as still and silent as possible.

“Bree, offer him a hug.” – Xander, under his breath, as quietly as he can, hoping that Breanna is able to hear him.

Thankfully, the Leathe’s hearing is keen. She holds out her arms to the guard, as if to embrace him. The guard accepts, stepping forward to take ‘Harry’ in his arms, but the hug goes awry as his arms pass through the illusion, completely clearing the Leathe’s head. The illusion fades, leaving only a crouching, black-furred Leathe where ‘Harry’ once stood.

“Wait, what?” – The guard, who immediately reaches for the horn at his belt. As he does so, a massive, horned, black-furred shape rushes up onto the top of the wall.

Xander’s massive fist punches the man in the head and he goes flying.

“You crushed his head like a tomato can.” – In my best Texan accent.

Together, Breanna and Xander climb down the other side of the wall, joining their companions in the courtyard of the keep. Ahead lies the Eagle Palace, and presumably, somewhere within it, the Queen Esmerelda of Elspeth. So close now, to achieving their goal, the five companions steal away into the shadows, seeking a back entrance into the palace.

Out on the fields outside the city, the battle has been joined in earnest, as formations of troops from Elspeth and Naille meet on the grassy fields. Siege engines whip flaming projectiles through the otherwise still air, many of which crash into the city itself. The cries of panic, the roar of flames and the clamour of alarms has overtaken the night, and out in the city proper, chaos reigns. Within the confines of the keep however, everything is quiet, still, like the calm before the storm, or perhaps, the pocket of calm in the centre of the storm.

Overhead, beholding it all, the Harvest Moon continues its inexorable rise into the night-sky.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up:
My apologies again for how long this took to write up. I have been extraordinarily busy trying to organise everything in my life at the moment. I suppose in addition to that, there’s the sadness that comes with telling the end of a story. I’ve never been very good at finishing things, but this is one thing that I have. Or at least, I have for those who played it, and lived it with me for the last seven years.

With that out of the way, I think this might have been one of my favourite sessions we have ever played. It was tense, with moments of light-heartedness and some very touching scenes at times. There was also some really good teamwork, as they worked together to ensure that everyone got through. I believe we saved one of the best to the very end.

So, with that, we’re very close now to the end.

See you soon, hopefully, with the next instalment.
Thank you for reading,

Phoenixguard09
2019-11-10, 07:22 AM
Session 7.3: Endgame

“If success they can achieve, the Devourer’s reaping will be postponed for two-score, four-score or fifteen-score years, but one cannot halt destiny forever. Thrice before has the Devourer been defeated, but it is ever poised to swing the Scythe of Doom and unleash the Greyflood.”
- The final stanza of the Greyflood Prophecy, as foretold by the Invarrian seer, Raelda of Meleret in the year 1127 CE.

Welcome to Session 7.3 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.

We begin with the companions huddled together in the shadows beneath a tower, hidden within the inner keep of Elspeth City, doing their best to get into the palace while remaining hidden. In the courtyard before the palace, a contingent of the Queensguard are gathering, an officer gathering them into a unit for an excursion into the city proper to find and eliminate a band of insurgents.

At the great double-doors leading into the palace, two individuals stand at ease, clad in the armour of the Queensguard. One, a Feartarbh carries a spear and a massive shield, the other, a silver-furred Invarrian, carries a greatsword in a scabbard, held easily at his side.

“We’ve still got some way to go before we can afford to get loud.” – Xander, as quietly as he can manage.

“No way of knowing how many they might have directly on the other side of that door. We might, and I say might, be able to take those two down quickly, but with no guarantee that we can do that before they alert whoever might be waiting as backup.” – Kel’Serrar, staring intently at the two door-wards.

“So we send a scout to find another entrance. Bree, you’re up again.” – Xander, prodding the Leathe.

“Man, I straight up do not want to be here.” – Breanna, as she limbers up.

“You go round, try to find another way in. We’ll wait here and remain as inconspicuous as possible.” – Harold.

Behind him, Xander does his best impression of a hedge. It is not particularly accurate.

* * *

The Leathe returns mere moments later, shrouded in wisps of shadow, having avoided a patrol of guards.

“I found a door around the side. It’s locked. Looks like a servants’ entrance or something like that. No guard posted, or none I could see anyway.” – Breanna, who then leads the group around to the aforementioned point of ingress.

The assassin takes out her dagger and jams it into the lock, her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth, and within seconds, she has the lock undone. She swiftly swings the door open, and ushers her companions inside, and Xander closes it behind them.

Before the party lies a long hallway, made of worked grey stone, very different from the white marble-like façade of the exterior. The hallway is entirely dark, with a tall ceiling, and wide enough for most of the party to traverse two-abreast.

“This is it, we’re inside.” – Maebh, quietly, to herself.

“Kel, can you spot any traps by any chance?” – Xander, his eyes having difficulty adjusting to the pitch-black.

“Cause I’m bad at finding traps. Actually, you know, I’m good at finding them, just my version of doing so can get noisy and pretty dangerous.” – Yohan.

“If this is in fact a servants’ entrance, which I agree that it probably is, it would not make much sense to put down traps. On the other hand, if you can all give me a few minutes to sit down, I should be able to tell if there’s anyone in the immediate area.” – Kel’Serrar, who promptly sits down against the wall with his eyes closed, focusing his mind’s eye on his surroundings.

“My almighty nap powers come to the fore once again.” – Sins.

“On the other hand, don’t step on this stone here. I think it is hooked up to a pressure plate.” – Breanna, who had scampered ahead a little and found a potential trap.

Maebh focuses her power for a moment and her eyes flash with a faint amber light. To her sight, the shadows and illusions around Breanna and Kel respectively, fade away. She looks down the corridor and spies a faint sigil of ice-blue magic seemingly carved into the stone wall on the right, a good twenty yards away.

Kel’s senses, honed by years of survival out in the woods, reveal to him that the doors down the hallway open into various small rooms, many of which are inhabited. Many of those within, for the most part, sound as if they are sleeping.

Maebh carefully steps over the trapped flagstone and inspects the arcane sigil upon the wall. Closer to, she can see that it is a cunningly wrought alarm spell, and is independent from the trapped stone. She dismissively waves her hand and a light shower of golden sparks essentially erases the sigil off the wall.

“We can continue.” – Maebh, quietly to the rest of the party. Breanna nods in response and takes point.

“Come on Kel. Time to go.” – Xander, gently picking the Danann up and carrying him down the hallway. Other than a slightly difficult moment getting past the trapped flagstone, the Feartarbh has no difficulty with this. As this happens, Kel keeps up a constant whispered commentary of everything he senses, which is mainly the sleepers and a surprisingly small population of vermin all around.

“That is one loud snorer…” – Kel, trailing off as they carefully make their way down the hall.

“Which one is it? Left or right?” – Xander, halting.

“Two doors down, on the right.” – Kel, slightly puzzled.

The Feartarbh takes one of the padlocks off his belt, unknowing and uncaring which one of the two locks he carries it is. He affixes it to the door, with a slight smile lightening his features.

It is the lock without a key by the way, but Xander does not know this.

After a good few minutes of sneaking, the companions come to a large, wooden double door, clearly the portal between the servants’ hallway they are in and the rest of the palace. The doors are over six feet tall and banded with steel reinforcement. As they approach, only ten yards from the double doors, Xander’s gigantic hoof scrapes on the edge of one of the flagstones, making a distinctive grinding scuff noise.

“Is someone there?” – A male voice on the other side of a servant’s door to the right.
“Housekeeping!” – LD.

“Sorry ser, just going to the toilet.” – Harold, thinking quickly.

“Oh no matter then. Take care out there.” – The voice from the other side of the door.
Harold’s Deception Check was pretty good, and the guard behind the door rolled an abysmal 89 on his corresponding Intelligence Check.

With the crisis averted, Breanna peeks through under the double doors, the others very slowly and carefully joining her over the next minute or so. The first thing the Leathe notices is that the room is empty and quite dark, illuminated only by the natural moon-light from a window, set high in the wall to the right. The ceiling is much higher than the hallway the companions are currently in, and while there are no people within the room, there are quite a few benches and cupboards. To Breanna’s, admittedly untrained, eye, it looks like the palace kitchen. She comes to her feet and gently tries the door, but it is locked.

“It is locked. Do we want to go through?” – Breanna, in a hoarse whisper.

“Could you see a door leading through?” – Xander, also whispering.

“I couldn’t see, but it looks like a kitchen, so there probably should be one. Shall I do the picket-pick?” – Breanna, producing her thin dagger and an anchor.

“There’s no one in there…” – Kel’Serrar, voice slow and detached, still carried safely in Xander’s arms.

“Do it. We’ll just hope there’s a door on the other side.” – Harold, to Breanna, who promptly sets herself to the task of prying the lock open.

It takes the diminutive Leathe all of about ten seconds before there’s a soft click and the door gently swings open.

Upon entering the room, the companions see there are a few doors, one directly on their left and two more ahead, on the opposite side of the kitchen.

“Left seems like more servants’ quarters, much like those we just came through. Of the two ahead, one is a small room, the other a long corridor. I can’t sense anyone moving around in any direction. No wait, the corridor on the right, there’s two guards standing on the other side of the door.” – Kel’Serrar, still focusing intently on his surroundings.

“Sounds like that’s the way we want to go to get to our goal.” – Xander, under his breath.

Breanna creeps over to the door as quickly as she dares and peers through the keyhole. Two Queensguard stand on the other side of the door, black-furred Invarrians both of them, one armed with a crossbow, the other with some kind of long wooden stave. They are illuminated by a handful of fitfully blazing torches, ensconced in the stone wall to their left, which provides some light to the length of the corridor beyond.

“Alright, how do we want to do this?” – Harold, quietly.

“I’ll take one of them.” – Kel’Serrar, emerging from his trance.

“I’ll throw the Leathe at the other.” – Xander, nodding.

“Before you do that, let me check this first.” – Breanna, gently trying the handle of the door. It is locked.

“Good thing you checked.” – Xander, with a wry grin.

The Leathe expertly picks the lock with her dagger once more, her skill making the process almost silent as Harold holds the door completely still.

“Maybe we should lock the door behind us before we continue? This might be loud.” – Harold, gesturing towards the door they just came through.

“Good idea.” – Xander, who passes his other lock to Maebh. The Danann takes it and affixes it to the door, hopefully barring anyone from following them.

“Alright, I’ll shoot the one on the right, you throw her at the one on the left.” – Kel’Serrar to Xander, nocking an arrow to the string of his longbow.

“Three, two, one.” – Harold, opening the door swiftly.

A grey-fletched arrow and a black-furred streak flash through the open doorway and the two guards drop, one of them with their head removed by the flying Leathe’s knife.

“Sort of paraphrasing Arc 1, but the door is no longer between the Feartarbh and the guard the Feartarbh wishes to throw a possum at.” – Sins.

“Should we try and hide the bodies, maintain stealth?” – Maebh, quietly.

“Bree’s made a mess in there. The head’s come off and there’s blood everywhere. We’ll try to stay stealthy, but there’s no time to really clean up. Let’s just keep moving.” – Xander, shaking his head.

“No witnesses guys, now let’s go.” – Breanna, with a slight edge to her voice.

With Kel’Serrar now capable of moving for himself, the companions redress their order of approach swiftly in the corridor. Breanna goes first as the scout, with Maebh and then Harold following her, the Invarrian ready to leap to the fore if they are discovered. Kel’Serrar comes next, with Xander making up the rearguard as the least nimble and light-footed of the group. With weapons ready, they progress down the grey-stone corridor, ignoring the chambers on either side, instead making a bee-line towards the great double-doors at the end of the hall, which gradually widens as they get closer to the doors, themselves seemingly a heavy affair of black hardwood.

Approximately forty feet from the doors, Xander halts, all too aware of the clamour his approach makes. Looking back over her shoulder warily, Breanna sees this and nods approvingly to the hulking guardian. Reaching the doors, the Leathe inspects the way for traps, but finds none, nor does she find a lock or latch. Rather these doors are intended to swing rather freely. On her hands and knees, she peers through the gap between the door and the stone floor and can make out the prodigious room beyond, the rather octagonal shape of the chamber, the rows of long tables and bench-seats lining them. An extensive array of windows lining the left side of the room allows the gleaming golden moonlight to wash through into the chamber, and a sconce upon the window-sill is home to a large amount of lit candles, they too providing some light to the room beyond. At the far end of the chamber lies a raised platform, upon which stands a large and grand wooden table.

“Seems like some kind of dining room. The queen’s personal dinner chamber perhaps?” – Breanna, in a hushed whisper to the rest of the party.

“No one in there?” – Xander, his own loud whisper carrying in the still night air from where he stands in the hallway, some forty feet back.

“No, but plenty of windows and light, so we’ll need to be careful.” – Breanna, ushering the Feartarbh up to join them.

“We go in and hug the walls then, can’t be too careful. Look for a way through.” – Harold, to a quiet chorus of agreement.

“Okay. I’ll go first then.” – Breanna, who slips her way through the doors.

Shrouded by the darkness, the Leathe softly pads her way through the doorway and towards the great window. Hanging overhead, the pale golden disc of the Harvest Moon sits in the sky, illuminating the waves of the Sea of Claws as they crash against the mighty cliffs below. In the distance, stormclouds gather, and the water is rough. Breanna’s keen eyes pick out shapes, grey, gliding just beneath the surface of the water, and far away in the distance, no, it can’t be. But it is. Sails, and there it is, one tiny little boat, a vast distance away, but approaching rapidly, propelled by the swelling storm winds.

In an almost detached kind of way, Breanna notes the lit candles on the window-sill look to have been aflame for approximately an hour, judging by the pools of wax which have settled around them.

On the right-hand side of the room there are three doorways, and one of them a rather large double wooden door, that same black hardwood that seems to be used for most furniture in the palace, but reinforced with iron bands, hidden in the intricate scrollwork and engravings which adorn it. It is unlocked.

“This way, quickly, quickly.” – Harold, ushering Breanna to take point once more.

Her eyes flashing with amber power, Maebh scans the room over before leaving, satisfied there are no traps or alarms. She looks up and can see an intricate glass chandelier, hanging more than thirty feet overhead. It flickers with a fell light in her vision, almost as if some daemonic power is playing within its translucent confines.

The Danann shivers, and follows her companions through the doorway.

* * *

The next few minutes are slow and nerve-wracking, as the companions make their way as quietly as possible through bare, stone hallways, sneaking past doors and various groups and patrols of guards. They manage to do so without incident, though it is a close-run thing at times.

Eventually, Breanna leads them to a great, carved doorway. Double doors, crafted from that same blackened hardwood, carved with intricate imagery depicting a triumphant eagle and great armies, victorious on the field of battle, picked out in ostentatious gold leaf. There is no visible locking mechanism upon the doors, and so Breanna carefully, cautiously, pushes her way through, revealing a long, wide room, or hall.

On either side of the room stands a row of marble pillars, which stretch all the way up to the towering ceiling above. Inlaid in each pillar, facing inwards towards the centre of the room and carved with considerable skill, statuesque figures, depicting the likenesses of personages of a regal and dignified air. Between these pillars and the side walls, two long pools of dark water are set into the stone ground, still and seemingly undisturbed, stretching the length of the hallway, itself nearly 200 yards long.

At the far end of the room sits a small throne on a raised stone platform, crafted from that same dark hardwood. It is quite simple and unadorned, practically bare save for the eagle’s heads carved into the arm-rests and a shining emerald set into the backrest. Beyond the throne itself, a tall spiralling staircase stretches upwards into the darkness.

The companions enter the throneroom cautiously, Xander taking point now. Breanna’s eyes dart around in the shadows, looking for any daemonic influence, but she finds nothing. Maebh’s own eyes however are drawn by the emerald set into the throne, and she swiftly recognises the arcane aura around it, and the thin tendril of emerald magic which floats away from the stone and up the spiral staircase.

“How deep is this water? Can anyone tell?” – Xander, in a nervous whisper, clearly on edge.

“Wait here a moment then.” – Kel’Serrar, who sits and slips back into his familiar trance.

To the ranger’s keen senses, it is clear that the water is churning beneath the still surface, and is connected to a much larger body of water. While the pools themselves here might only be about nine feet deep, he feels that they may in fact be connected to the ocean itself. Certainly there is a powerful magic at work here.

Within the pools he can sense the presence of two living beings, though he cannot tell what they are, or even how big they may be, as still as they are beneath the surface of the water. Also, far above, he can vaguely sense a large group of people, but can tell no more than that with how far away they are.

“There’s things in the water…” – Kel, trailing off.

As he says this, Maebh’s form crackles with golden lightning and the surface of the water in both pools erupts with movement, churning white.

“Oh hell. I need a Willpower Check from Xander.”
“Am I being attacked?” – Yohan.
“These things have mind control powers mate. It’s probably that.” – Ladyhawk.
“Can I parry it?” – Yohan, to general laughter.

Xander feels a malicious presence within his mind, inveigling its way through his psyche. He fights against it, but suddenly his body is moving, against his will. He tries to stop it as he raises his hand, the handle of his shield clenched tightly in his meaty fist, ready to crash down on the unaware Kel’Serrar. He swings, a wild haymaker with the shield, but his desperate efforts to prevent himself from landing the blow are just enough, and the strike goes wide. The presence in his mind fades, leaving behind only a sick feeling and a flash of intense pain.

Harold looks back, seeing the concerned look on the face of Kel’Serrar as he is disturbed from his trance and the way Xander is holding his own head. The Invarrian turns back towards the pool to his right and raises his sword. A bolt of pale blue lightning crackles around his hand and blade and shoots away into the water. The pools pulses with light as the bolt strikes it, the shadowy shape of the Beast illuminated for a moment as it is wracked with electricity.

A susurrating influence pushes its way into Breanna’s mind, and she finds herself attempting to summon more daemonic power. She panics as she realises that she cannot stop herself. Overhead, stormclouds start to gather in the ceiling, tiny arcs of golden energy playing through them. Thunder cracks in the room as twin lightning bolts flash down from the ceiling, one into each pool, causing them to glow with golden light momentarily. The windows shatter with the thunderclap, and a light rain blows in from outside.

Kel’Serrar, standing, quickly casts a spell, turning invisible but leaving an illusory copy of himself standing where he was before. With an arrow nocked and ready, the ranger keeps his eyes fixed upon the surface of the pools, waiting for one of the Beasts to make themselves visible.

Holding his shields, Xander crashes them together with a shout, forging an arcane link between himself and his companions. Tendrils of familiar golden energy tether themselves in a chain of magic between Xander and his friends, before turning black. Xander’s eyes blaze with a black light as he completes his spell, the magic clearly taxing the great warrior’s strength.

Channelling his power once more, Harold hurls another bolt of energy into the pool on the right with a savage snarl. A horrific screeching noise fills the room as the Beast breaks the surface of the water, its cartilaginous grey body whipping through the air, electricity coruscating around it. Enraged, it flexes its razor-sharp claws and rakes them at Harold, the black claws ripping into the flesh of the Invarrian’s throat. It is not blood which pours out however, but a strong golden light, as the thin golden chain which binds Harold to Xander flares. A tiny rivulet of blood falls from a thin gash on Xander’s own neck, a shallow furrow dug into the sleek black fur.

Behind him, Breanna draws her knife and, not knowing why she does this, aims specifically for a gap between two heavy plates on the Feartarbh’s back. She thrusts her blade, but as she does, Xander moves slightly, causing the plates to shift, and the knife skates off the edge, reducing the impact of her strike considerably. She withdraws the knife, and a thin trickle of blood comes with it, which itself coalesces into a thin, reddish sliver and slams back into the wound. Xander growls a little, but he ignores the pain as best he can. Behind him, Breanna shakes her head and comes to her senses, blood trickling from her nose and eyes and pain coursing through her head and neck.

The grey form of the Beast rises from the surface of the water once more, claws flexing as it faces Harold. It shrieks its defiance at the old Invarrian, and moves towards him, tail propelling it forward with an unearthly grace. Suddenly, as it lunges, a ball of amber fire flashes across the hall, conjured by the outstretched hand of Maebh, and crashes into the head of the Beast. It flails wildly, and its ear-piercing screams of agony set everyone on edge as it enters its death-throes.

The party gather around the other pool, waiting for the remaining Beast to re-emerge with weapons and spells at the ready, but nothing happens. Eventually Maebh, keeping her eyes trained on the surface of the water and a spell at the ready, backs her way up to the throne to inspect the emerald set within it more closely. Several more minutes pass, the stormclouds in the ceiling dissipate, and the water remains undisturbed. Harold strides to the throne to join Maebh.

“What have you found?” – Harold, to the mage, eyes flicking between her and the pool behind them.

“There’s a link, almost like a tether of magic between the stone and someone upstairs. Maybe if I…” – Maebh, trailing off as her eyes flash with amber light. Suddenly, she gives out a shocked gasp, and the light peters out.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” – Harold, frantically looking around the room for a new threat.

“No, no, I tried breaking the bond. I managed to damage it, but then whoever it is upstairs pulsed more power into the bond and I couldn’t hold it. I’m sorry. They know we’re here.” – Maebh, breathing heavily.

Kel’Serrar sits down on the floor, while Breanna and Xander stand watch over him, sinking into his trance once more.

“I think it might be gone. I can’t sense it.” – Kel’Serrar, faintly, his eyes closed.

“It’s okay Maebh, these creatures probably communicate with their minds and one just got away anyway. That, plus all the commotion we just made, there’s no way they wouldn’t know we were here by now.” – Xander, slowly making his way up to the throne with Harold and Maebh.

The mage shrugs, shakes her head and redoubles her efforts. Her fingers glint with sparks of golden light and her eyes flare once more as she pits herself against the will of the caster upstairs. This time, the Danann is successful, sawing through the link and causing the faint shining glow within the emerald to sputter and die.

“There, it is done.” – Maebh, the light fading away as she withdraws. She nods to Xander. Who hefts his claymore.

The Feartarbh brings the massive sword down upon the throne, carving a massive rent through the back of the heavy, wooden seat. The emerald cracks into several pieces, some of which remain fixed in the throne, but several of them tumble free. Harold grabs one of pieces and tucks it away in a pouch hanging from his belt.

“Okay, they know we’re here.” – Harold, adjusting his armour.

“We know where they are.” – Breanna, cleaning her dagger.

“Let’s go knock on the door.” – Xander.

* * *

The party makes their move upstairs, Xander at the fore with the small shape of Breanna following closely behind. Maebh comes next, then Kel’Serrar with Harold bringing up the rear. The spiralling staircase seems to take an age to traverse, the tension and nerves building, until finally the stairs give way to a short, wide hallway, at the end of which stands a tall, unadorned double door, crafted from that now familiar dark hardwood. There is no lock upon it, nor is there any guard stationed here. The hallway is quiet, and, if it weren’t for both the single torch burning fitfully in a sconce on the left-hand wall and the faint silvery-golden glow emanating from under the door from the room beyond, it is featureless worked grey stone for its entire length and breadth.

Within sight of the door, Xander gestures to the party to halt for a moment and he draws upon his magic once more. A faint golden light ripples around them, which turns black for a moment, leaving the Feartarbh hoping that his spell worked correctly. Shrugging, he takes up his weapons once more, nods to the others and places one gauntleted hand upon the door.

“Everyone ready?” – Harold, in a low mutter.

“Let’s do this.” – Maebh, hand beginning to crackle once more with golden energies.

“On three then. One, two, three.” – Xander, heaving the door open with a slam.

Back soon with Part 2

Phoenixguard09
2019-11-10, 07:29 AM
Welcome back. :smallsmile:

Before them stretches a wide room, roughly like a blunt triangle in shape. A short stairway, five steps in all, leading to a slightly raised platform begins on the far side of the room, maybe sixty yards away from the doors the companions have burst through. The stone floor directly before them is covered in a carved design like a pentagram, itself just over thirty yards in diameter. The room is predominantly lit by the multitude of windows which line the walls, overlooking the storm-wracked bay beneath, the majority of the room overhanging the great cliffs below. Maybe a full hundred captives kneel over the carved design of the pentagram on the floor, none of which stir as the companions burst in. Each of the captives has a number of bloody designs carved into their flesh. On the right hand side of the room lies a rectangular pool, the water in which appears almost black to the eye.

Atop the raised platform at the rear of the room stands a woman, tall for a Midlander with blonde hair and pale skin, her back turned to their entrance. She wears pristine white and red robes with ornate gilt-edging and a thin, golden circlet for a crown. A light, ornate steel longsword, engraved and glowing with runes along the blade is carried in her hand, the other hand raised above her head, crackling a sickly green with dark energies. As they enter the room, she screams out a long, complex incantation. Outside, thunder rumbles and lightning crashes, setting the whole tower shaking. A tall, ragged Invarrian, patchy black fur and clad in black robes stalks through the kneeling captives, a bloodied curved steel knife in hand. He slits the throat of one of the captives, a young Midlander man, and as he slumps, the blood flows in a thick red sheet to fill the carved grooves upon the floor.

As the lightning flashes and the queen’s incantation starts to reach a crescendo, a vast shadowy figure can be seen in the centre of the room, for only a moment. To the keen eyes of Maebh and Kel’Serrar, it looks almost as if the shadows themselves are tearing free of the darkened corners of the room, to meet in the centre, where they join the whole, coalescing into some almost indeterminate shape. A flicker of a dark hood, ragged robes and a wicked looking scythe are all that can be made out of the gloom.

Xander was the only party member to fail the Perception Check to perceive this manifestation.
“Clearly Xander is still too focused on the queen herself perhaps.”
“Got to get that booty.” – Yohan.
“I might be bovine but you’re bo-fine!” – LD.

Around her stand the members of her personal guard, six in total, the most striking of which are the two heavily armed and armoured Feartarbh which flank her. Of the others, two are Midlanders, the taller of which is bearing a sword and shield and wearing a fine chain hauberk and a finely detailed steel helm fashioned in the shape of an eagle’s head, his right pauldron covered in a patch of golden-yellow leather, marking him as a captain. The other MIdlander is a smaller, slighter man carrying a thin wand and wearing rich dark red and golden-brown robes. Another guard is a tall Northmann, clad in dark chain and black robes, carrying a wicked looking sickle at his belt and a light roundshield in his left hand. The last of the guards is an Invarrian, scruffy brown fur peeking out from under well-forged half plate. As he stands there, magic flashes in his hands, coalescing into shining blades which flicker and shift with every movement the Invarrian makes. All the guards move towards the companions, their attention garnered by this approaching threat as Xander hefts his shield and charges forward, followed closely by Harold and Breanna. The queen herself turns and sneers at them, the strong features on her tanned face twisted into a mocking expression.

“You’re too late.” – Queen Esmerelda, her eyes flashing with power, identical in shade to the flaring emerald upon her breast.

Lightning cracks above, and electricity surges and crackles around the walls of the spire, glinting with fell energies. In the flash, the queen disappears. One second she is there, savouring her victory, the next, she is gone.

Maebh throws herself into action immediately, closing her eyes and calling upon the power of the storm once more. Outside, lightning crashes again, this time a rich, golden amber in colour and crackling black stormclouds begin to gather within the chamber too. The queen’s robed Midlander mage in her guard frantically waves his wand, desperately trying to disrupt the energies Maebh is gathering to her, but her sheer force of will cannot be denied. Arms outstretched, the Danann lifts several inches into the air, and despite her closed eyes, golden light floods out from under her eyelids. Golden energy arcs and crackles, the lightning playing all around her and her hair swirls in the strong storm winds as she is lifted by the sheer power she brings to bear.

The culmination of Maebh’s power here as she blasts her way through the attempted Dispel attempt and unleashes six separate bolts of lightning in a single round, each one causing a total of 31 Lightning Damage to a target, ignoring Armour. A total of 186 Damage caused in a single round before Damage Reduction was applied. That was just one spell too, as she then used Dual Casting to also throw up her Lightning Shield to protect herself from anything coming back at her. Truly, Maebh is scary.

The first bolt, Maebh directs at the Northmann, standing as close as he is. As the searing golden energies streak towards him, the tall, gaunt man waves his free hand from one side to the other, and the bolt deflects towards a knot of deceased captives, kneeling within the carven pentagram. Their bodies twitch in an unnatural fashion as they are almost simultaneously risen to unlife and then pulverised by the sheer power of Maebh’s blast, their bodies ripped apart by the roiling magic.

The black-robed Invarrian priest within the pentagram is annihilated too, a second bolt ripping down from the unnatural clouds above to strike him as he slit the throat of yet another captive. When the light clears, all that is left of the Invarrian is a few burnt scraps of clothing, the curved knife and a dense pile of smoking ash.

The third bolt arcs down for the queen’s mage. He stands under it, throwing a hand up reflexively, and a thin shimmering shield of force springs into existence around him. He grins as he sees that, for now at least, his shield is holding the full brunt of Maebh’s magic. He turns towards the Danann and begins to build a roiling ball of flame in his other hand.

“Oh no. Oh no.”
“Wow. That’s quite remarkable.” – Sins.
“Three 1’s to cast.” – LD.
I am completely stunned.
“In true PG fashion, the enemy caster blows up the whole encounter for us on a Miscast.” – Yohan.
I roll on the appropriate Miscast Chart, and, lo and behold, we get the result that makes the caster roll on the Catastrophic Chart.
“Oh no. Oh. No.”
“This may just be unprecedented.” – Sins.
“I’ve played Warhammer with the man. I can tell you now, this is probably not even in the top ten worst Miscast moments he’s had.” – Dev.
“PG, never play a caster, yeah?” – LD.

Cackling maniacally, the mage hurls the ball of fire from his hand, fully expecting it to engulf Maebh in a roaring inferno, but in fact, it launches from his hand and peters out of existence mere inches away. Above him, the shimmering shield strains, cracks and then shatters into millions of tiny shards. The amber lightning rips down and in a deafening explosion, tears his body in half at the shoulder to the waist. Horrified, the companions watch as the mage does not fall, but rather dark tendrils of daemonic energy start to try and knit the ruined flesh back together. The blackened and utterly burnt head of the mage snaps forward with a horrific crack, and the eyes blaze with daemonic light. The mouth distends now into a gaping maw, within which swirling dark energy can be seen, pooling, seeping out and dripping onto the ground where it sizzles and burns like molten rock. The shambling creature hauls itself forward, leaving slick trails of viscera and shining gobbets of daemonic essence on the stone floor. A low humming cackles emanates from the maw of the creature, which gradually builds into a maddening howl.

The other lightning bolts crash down amidst the guards, held somewhat in check by a glowing bright blue shield the Invarrian guard cast around the two Feartarbh and the captain. The magics war with each other, and all three of the warriors are rocked by the impact, but the damage dealt by the strikes is significantly lessened.

Shaking off the impact of Maebh’s magic, the captain of the guard strides forward through the pentagram, engaging Xander, Harold and Kel with a flurry of blows. His first strike bounces off Xander’s massive shield, which the captain expertly turns into a thrust at Harold. The Invarrian misses the parry, and the blade would sink into Harold’s side but golden energy flashes, and the blade is turned away by Xander’s enchantment. Frustrated, the captain turns and throws a wild cut at Kel, but the Danann nimbly dodges away.

Or at least, that is how it appears. In fact, Kel’Serrar is standing maybe ten yards away, invisible, while his illusory copy dances away from the captain’s strikes. He swiftly nocks an arrow to his bow and draws, but then he hesitates. The invisible ranger’s aim shifts between the captain engaged with Xander and Harold and the two Feartarbh on the other side of the chamber. Who to shoot? Who to shoot indeed?

“Can I get a Willpower Check from Xander please mate?”
“Can you please stop asking for them?” – Yohan, who rolls a 02.

Xander feels that familiar insidious presence in his mind, but shrugs it off. He grits his teeth, plants his shoulder against the inside of his tower shield and pushes with all his force into the captain, buffeting the smaller man, sending him sprawling. As the captain falls to the side, he twists out of the way of the worst of the blow, and his own blade flashes out, cutting towards the momentarily exposed Feartarbh. There is another flash of golden energy as the guardian’s enchantments flare to life once more, and the strike does not connect with Xander’s flesh.

From the rear of the chamber, there is a brilliant ice-blue flash of light as the windows are shattered with the sound of tinkling glass. A multitude of spirit wisps flit and dance into the room, their soft, ephemeral forms swirling around the companions.

“Ice-blue magic? Spirits? Is Aeva actually helping us?” – Dev.
“I will neither confirm nor deny, but everyone gets +1 Damage Reduction on all hit locations.”

Seeing the flare of magic around the captain, Kel’Serrar turns his attention to the Invarrian binder hanging back somewhat. The arrow streaks across the room, but in a flare of brilliant blue light, the arrow halts its flight, turns in mid-air, and then flies back to where Kel flickers back into existence. The arrow hits the ranger with an audible thud as golden light flares once more, Kel kept safe by Xander’s magic. He is winded, but the arrow didn’t touch him, and it drops to the ground with a tink.

“There’s too many different effects going on here.” – Dev.
“Tell me about it.”
“This is legitimately messy.” – Yohan.
“I’m slowly building up an idea of what each enemy has up though. I think I’m following it.” – Ladyhawk.
“I can’t even keep track of what we have up.” – LD, laughing.

Yohan is completely right, this combat got really messy as we had to figure out what up to four different spells interacting with each other would do, not to mention the possessed mage everyone seemed to just straight up forget about momentarily.

A small black shape flits across the stone floor, low to the ground and leaps towards the queen’s captain. Breanna’s wicked knife plunges deep into the man’s knee, tearing and ripping, causing him to stumble once more. She withdraws the blade, and a thin stream of blood swirls out and up somewhat, coalescing into a shining, red blade of solid blood which then shoots straight back down into his neck, killing him.

A thunderous impact rocks the chamber as one of the Feartarbh guards clashes with Xander in the middle of the room. Shields and weapons almost forgotten, both of the black-furred gigantic warriors stand there, horns locked, vying against each other in the most primal way. Xander’s eyes narrow and he grits his teeth as he lets out a bellowing roar, adrenaline pumping through his veins as the red rage of bloodlust descends on his vision.

“As he did damage to me, I’d like to Frenzy.” – Yohan.
“He did damage to you?” – Ladyhawk, surprised.
“Yeah, at the moment, with spells and everything, my Damage Reduction was 27, he did 33 damage. So I took 5. But now I’m Frenzied, which means I have +10 Strength, +10 Toughness and +10 Temporary Health. So I actually came out of his attack with +1 Damage Reduction and +5 Health” – Yohan.
“Holy ****, Xander’s un-killable.” – LD.

The Invarrian binder hurls a bolt of blue light up into the roiling stormclouds above, hoping to disperse them, but Maebh feels the attempt and crushes it contemptuously. Turning his attentions back to the ground before him, the Invarrian summons crystalline shards of ice. Thick, blue-white hoarfrost grows and spreads up Maebh and Harold, encasing their lower halves in the freezing cold ice. Flickering golden light flares beneath the frost, and Xander gasps as blood starts to trickle down his legs from several thin cuts and scratches, the link between him and his companions opening the wounds on him, and saving Maebh and Harold from the same fate.

The tall Northmann raises his hand and barks a word of power, and a handful of corpses jerk unsteadily to their feet. Together, they hurl themselves at Harold, Xander and Maebh, trying to swamp them under weight of numbers. Any that draw near to Maebh are instantly annihilated by her crackling nimbus of amber lightning. A sickly pall washes over the fray as the Northmann casts a spell, weakening the companions significantly as rot and entropy sets into their muscles and flesh.

“Alright, he Dual Casts…”
“Rude.” – Ladyhawk.
“Yeah, doesn’t he know that ability is for PC’s only? NPC’s aren’t allowed to have it.” – Sins.
“Okay, now for the possessed mage. This really did not go to plan.”

As the second Feartarbh guard, this one even larger than the first, auburn-furred and armed with a massive dark steel greatsword prepares to charge into the fray and cleave Xander apart, the possessed mage turns, its ruined body jerking and twisting as it levitates first five, then swiftly ten feet in the air. The deafening howl grows once more as a torrent of daemonic flame ripples across the room, briefly consuming the Feartarbh berserker in a flood of chittering fire. When the flames subside, all present can see the berserker standing there, still, flesh charred, armour and fur smoking. Parts of the flesh have melted away, revealing bone beneath, the damage perhaps most noticeable on the face, where much of the flesh has burnt away, revealing the singed skull beneath. One eye is ruined, now just a smoking sludge dripping from the socket. Roaring, the Feartarbh charges at the mage, all thoughts of Xander driven from his pain-wracked mind. He thunders towards the possessed corpse, reaching up and grasping the floating daemon host by the ankle before flinging it to the ground, kneeling beside it and literally tearing the body into pieces with a show of extreme strength and brutality. When he is done, Breanna can see the daemonic entity has withdrawn to the Otherworld and the corpse of the mage is maybe two dozen small, bloodied chunks.

Several of the captives still alive and kneeling on the carvings of the pentagram, closest to the fray, suddenly stand, and then the creature in the centre, formed of black smoke appears once more. There is a flash of silver and the captives fall into pieces, their bodies transitioning to nothing but dust which swirls away in the heavy winds within the chamber. Those other captives which still live, do not stir. That same strike carries through into Xander, who grits his teeth and wears the heavy blow as best he can, trusting to his enchantments. Despite that, he feels the otherworldly scythe rip through him, the wound ephemeral, but no less real somehow, and terrible. The scythe-strike continues, cutting through the wards of the Invarrian binder. There is a flash of warring magic before the brilliant blue light fades and the binder stumbles, holding his abdomen. He falls back, back and then over the edge of the pool and into the black water. He does not resurface.

Another flurry of amber lightning bolts streak down from the ceiling as Maebh, ignoring the encroaching frost, directs her power upon her enemies. The first again is directed at the necromancer, and again he waves a hand and the bolt is redirected towards a small knot of risen corpses, obliterating them immediately.

Two more bolts flash down into the black pool of water. The water is briefly lit by two consecutive flashes of amber light, but if anything is still within, they can’t be seen.

Another bolt streaks down towards the ruined berserker. Unbelievably, he still stands, though the impact of the lightning absolutely should have killed him. He staggers, blearily looking around for something nearby to kill in the next ten seconds or so before he finally loses his grip on life.

Two more bolts flash down on opposite sides of the carven pentagram, cracking the stone floor and disrupting the pattern. If the ritual has been disrupted by this at this late stage though, there is no way of telling. The captives who remain alive do not stir.

The lightning around Maebh flares and the frost pinning her is shattered in a blaze of light. She then turns and conjures a ball of amber flame in her hand and hurls it at the ruined Feartarbh berserker, the fires consuming the terribly wounded warrior. The Danann turns back, to look for her next target when suddenly the figure of the queen appears by her side, a slender longsword in hand. The woman thrusts at Maebh, who watches as the blade sinks into her side and then withdraws, a flood of golden light rippling out as it does so. Before their eyes, the wound closes. The anger in Esmerelda’s eyes is briefly overtaken by perhaps a shadow of fear before the lightning coruscating around Maebh flashes again and cracks against the queen. In the flash of blinding light, she disappears once more. Unbeknownst to them, under the thick, segmented armour of his cuirass, Xander now bears an identical wound to the one briefly inflicted on Maebh, blood beginning to sheet from the laceration in his sleek, black hide.

Kel stares at the space where the queen disappeared, an arrow nocked and ready. He can see no sign of her, despite the power of his ring, a worrying circumstance. He has a feeling that she is probably in and around the same area she was when she appeared to strike Maebh, though perhaps she backed off a few steps after being hit by the mage’s field of lightning. He takes a guess, invokes the most powerful enchantment he knows upon the arrow nocked to his bow, draws, and shoots.

“True Shot is cast.” – Sins.
“DO IT!” – Ladyhawk, excited.
“Should have known the campaign would end with Kel True Shotting it to death.” – LD.

The golden streak burns its way across the room, aiming for a point five yards behind Maebh. Suddenly, where empty air once was, the space is filled by a sleek, grey shape, long, finned tail whipping frantically, spraying saltwater everywhere as it flails wildly. Long, taloned fingers spread, seeking purchase on anything as it falls into the path of Kel’s arrow. There is a brilliant explosion as the concussive force of the magic arrow caves in the creature’s chest, a golden light ripping forth from every orifice as the Beast is burned alive from the inside. It drops to the ground, still weakly writhing in its death throes, smoking and charred. As it dies, around the room, a handful of the still living captives begin to stir, groggily, as if waking from a deep sleep, though even they do not move beyond that. The rest, maybe a little more than a dozen, remain completely motionless.

“She’s probably transposed her location with the Beast in the pool.” – Yohan, to the agreement of the rest of the table.

Locked in tight with the other Feartarbh, Xander pushes hard with his horns, knocking the warrior back enough for the guardian to draw the Carhold Blade from over his shoulder. Loosing a ferocious roar, Xander cleaves at the other Feartarbh, two massive strokes which cleave through shield, armour and flesh. Badly wounded, the warrior grits his teeth and pushes back against Xander, trying to cramp him up to keep the huge blade at bay.

Outside, the pale golden face of the Harvest Moon shines brightly down from above, the somewhat sickly light bursting through the thick stormclouds. To Maebh’s keen eyes, it looks almost as if it is growing larger, almost like it is approaching slowly. On the surface of the moon, faint shadows can be seen, just a shade darker than the moon itself, flitting and writhing across its surface like snakes. As Maebh watches, a thin sliver of pale, ice-blue magic shoots directly up to the moon from below the cliffs, likely from a point upon the surface of the storm-tossed ocean waters below. The shadows flitting across the moon almost ripple and fade with the magic, as whoever the caster below may be brings their full power to bear.

Crackling energy ripples around Harold, brilliant blue lightning arcing from the Invarrian, ripping into the Feartarbh warrior engaged with Xander. Still buzzing with power, Harold shoots another bolt off at the necromancer, the lighting tearing forth from the nimbus of power gathered around the Gilded Sword.

Watching the events unfold before her, Breanna focuses as keenly as she can on the ritual itself. She has seen things like this before, not the least of which being the attempt to bind the Lord of Winter in Summer Hill, which they disrupted at the very last moment a few years ago. This though, tonight, is an undertaking of far greater magnitude again, and the entity is already drawn to the place, and bound. Now though, it must be given corporeal form for the ritual to be complete and the entity to cross over from the Otherworld entirely. A faint whisper tickles the back of her mind, and her thoughts drift to the Three Coins. She sits down on the edge of the pentagram, trying to avoid the wash of blood around it, and frantically fishes around in her pack for the Three Coins, drawing them out and beginning the invocation necessary to draw this creature, whatever it is, into the Coins. As she does so, she scans the room and notices two slivers of daemonic energy, like tethers almost, binding the entity in the centre of the chamber to both the Northmann necromancer and to a point in the corner of the room which appears to be otherwise unoccupied. Pushing the thought aside, the Leathe continues to will the magic of the Coins into being to disrupt the ritual taking place.

Xander gives out a roar of frustration as the other Feartarbh attacks once more, the fearsome warrior thrusting a heavy broadsword deep into Xander’s side. The golden light flares once more, but the sheer quantity of ferocious blows is really starting to tell, and the strike leaves a significant bleeding gash in the guardian’s black-furred side.

“Bring down the Feartarbh!” – A woman’s voice rings out across the chamber.

The gaunt, black-robed Northmann puts his hands down to his sides, fingers outstretched. He clenches them into fists and pulls upwards, a strained snarl ripping forth from his throat as his arms slowly, halting rise upwards. Around the room, corpses rise, two dozen coming to their feet, standing jerkily upwards. Together, two groups rush forward, piling towards the companions in a flood of dead flesh, mouths wide and fingers outstretched. The necromancer gives a tired smile and clicks his fingers.

A deafening explosion shakes the spire and everything turns to white.

Maebh’s vision slowly returns and she looks around from where she is sprawled, prone on the floor. She sees Breanna, stunned, lying on her back near the edge of the pentagram, the tell-tale gleam of the Coins still clenched tightly in her furred grip. The smouldering shape of Harold, still buzzing with the storm’s aegis is to her left, the Invarrian’s tabard and fur blackened and scorched. Where Xander and the other Feartarbh had been standing, only a single black lump remained, slumped on the ground, flesh and fur cooked, scorched blood streaming in rivulets from the seared flesh. She sees the tall Northmann, black robes whipping about him in the strong wind, slowly stride towards her and her fallen comrades. Her eyes blaze amber, she outstretches her hand and the golden lightning strikes again. One bolt crashes into the pool once more, and the others she wrenches, with great force of will, almost into a cage around the necromancer. The coruscating energies rip the tall man apart in a shower of golden light.

As an aside, each lightning bolt did 41 Damage. Normally Furious Storm cannot hit the same target more than once per Round, but I asked Ladyhawk for a Channelling Check to see if she could get any more of her five bolts to hit him as he walked towards her. She duly rolled a 06 under 87, so I ruled that a total of three lightning bolts hit him, for a total of 123 Damage.

The shadowy entity in the centre of the room roars and swings its mighty scythe down at Maebh, but the black blade is halted by an invisible wall. As it impacts however, she can see the edges of the material world buckle and tear slightly as the impossibly sharp blade tries to rip through. It seeps a foul, black mist, and it looks both solid and very sharp.

Shaking his head, Harold slowly picks himself up. In his hand, the Gilded Sword almost twitches and, in a daze, the Invarrian staggers towards the entity in the centre of the room, following the directions of the blade. Almost guiding itself, the Sword thrusts towards the entity, the golden blade shining with light as it pierces the veil between worlds. Where it strikes, whatever smoke-like substance the creature is made of burns and shrivels, and it shrieks hideously in anger and frustration and recoils slightly in pain. It beats at the barrier once more with its scythe, furiously trying to strike down those who dare stand against it.

Breanna, coins in hand, begins the invocation once more, body battered and bruised by the sheer force brought to bear in the necromancer’s assault. She sees that same tethering line of Black magic between the entity in the centre of the room and a point on the far side of the darkened pool of water.

“No, this can’t happen!” – That same woman’s voice, disembodied from the corner of the chamber. The shape of Queen Esmerelda flickers back into reality on the far side of the darkened pool, the point to which the tether of magic led. Her hand gathers energy, a dark emerald in colour, almost dripping and sizzling as it pools there, shining with a sickly light.

“Suck a ****!” – Breanna, in a shrill voice, willing the power to siphon into the coins more quickly through the rents in reality, hoping to finish the invocation before the queen’s sorcery is cast.

The black dart flicks from Esmerelda’s outstretched fingers, straight towards the vulnerable Leathe. It strikes and sinks into the black-furred flesh, and Breanna gasps in pain as her flesh rends and starts to necrotise around the wound. She falls back to the stone floor beneath her, her efforts disrupted and looks at the terrible wound in her side. As she watches, the wound starts to close, and shine with a faint golden light. The light grows stronger and stronger, the pain starts to dissipate and the wound closes over. She turns around, still prone on the ground and stares at the shifting, blackened mound of smoking flesh where Xander once stood. The flesh shifts, and the utterly ruined body of the queen’s Feartarbh warrior is shoved aside by Xander, himself a terribly burned mess. The guardian struggles to his knees as golden light faintly shines from a horrific wound in his chest, the equal of the one inflicted on Breanna. He roars, the golden light gutters out, his tremendous strength finally gives way and Xander slumps to the stone floor once more, unmoving and on his face.

Kel’Serrar, seeing this, takes his opportunity as soon as it presents itself, applying an enchantment of seeking to the arrow he has nocked and loosing it at the queen. The arrow flashes across the chamber but Esmerelda sees the shot made and weaves a hasty enchantment of her own. One of the kneeling captives, one of less than half a dozen still alive in the chamber, appears in her place and the arrow punches directly through the ribcage of the captive. Esmerelda is nowhere to be seen. Cursing under his breath, the ranger runs to the fallen Xander and starts to assess the damage. The massive guardian has taken a ridiculous amount of punishment and Kel is not entirely sure where to even begin. He starts to apply bandages and salves, almost in a daze, but there’s just so much blood. On the other hand, Xander is still technically alive, if only just, and Kel is determined to save him.

In the centre of the room, the entity roars once more, and it smashes its scythe at Harold. The wily Invarrian manages to dodge out of the way, just, and throws his own cut at the creature in return. After the initial moment after the great explosion, Harold has thrown himself entirely into his instincts, dodging, weaving, slashing and thrusting at the creature, guided by the power of the Gilded Sword. The Sword itself gleams against the darkness, as do the countless small wounds inflicted on the entity, seeping golden light.

“All up, 45 Damage with the Gilded Sword.” – Dev, sounding disappointed.
“That’s 45 Damage, ignoring all Damage Reduction. Mate, that’s heaps. That’s not too much off one-shotting Xander at full health.” – Yohan, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but most of it is from the sword itself, not me.” – Dev, still disappointed.
“Most of my damage comes from lightning, not me.” – Ladyhawk.
“The sword itself ignores Damage Reduction and does 9 Damage. You’d still have done 36 with any other sword, which is hardly nothing. That would kill me twice over.” – Sins, laughing.
“I get up and kill Harold.” – Yohan, laughing.

After one particularly powerful cut, the entity rears back and then leans forward, its ghostly, skull-like face under the hood right in Harold’s own, pushing up as closely as it can to the veil between its realm the material plane. It screams in Harold’s face, and the Invarrian sees, before his vision goes red, that the entity’s shining, smoke-like skin almost seems to be made of tiny fanged maws, each of them gnashing together, slavering and gibbering in a hellish, maddening way. The Invarrian staggers back, blood streaming from his eyes, ears and nose, momentarily blinded, the sheer force of the scream almost concussing the old reaver.

Still lying on the cold floor, Breanna scrabbles desperately for the Three Coins again and begins the invocation once more. Doing so, she sees that same tether of magic on the far side of the room, the opposite side this time from the darkened pool. She inspects the tether of magic a little more closely, the clamour of battle subsiding somewhat as her focus is drawn by the weave of magic before her. She realises that, while this line of magic provides an anchor of sorts, she cannot draw the entity into the Coins. The tether must be broken.

Breanna watches on as Maebh steps forward and a golden torrent of water washes out over the pentagram, blood washing away in a great wave as the mage sweeps it clean in an attempt to disrupt the ritual. Several of the last captives are caught in the flood and torn apart by the blast, ripped into pieces by the titanic forces she brings to bear. The creature above however, what must be the Devourer, is unaffected.

“Maebh, the tether! Break the tether!” – Breanna, screaming at the mage, pointing at the corner of the room.

Clutching the Coins in her hand, the Leathe leaps forward, using the stunned Harold as cover and uses the daemonic power stored within them to attempt to seal up the cracks in the veil. The Devourer roars at her from its many mouths, and swings its scythe, but the Leathe is able to nimbly duck under the sweeping blow, pulling Harold down with her. The Coins burn with power in her hand as she holds them aloft, daemonic power streaming into the void. Hunkered down, her sheer will to succeed escapes her in a scream of rage, as beside her, Harold gets to his feet, clears the blood from his eyes and engages the Devourer once more.

One after another, six lightning bolts smash into the stone floor in the corner of the room Breanna indicated. If it has any effect on the hidden woman there, Maebh cannot tell. She starts to cast another spell, gathering the energies in her hand and readies it for the moment the queen flickers back into reality.

The Devourer rears back with its mighty scythe and unleashes a terrible blow, sweeping through the veil and into the material plane, the otherworldly blade seeping black corruption. Harold, clearly still hampered by the entity’s scream, is too slow, and the weapon catches him, a mere winging blow enough to cause immense damage to the Invarran. He falls back, his cuirass rent asunder by the strike, his flesh steaming as the corruption sets in, the wound starting just below his right collarbone and ending halfway down his left thigh. He pants, slowly trying to get back on his feet, determined to sell his life dearly. He spits at the creature, the bloody gobbet disappearing into the void and strikes at its face with the Gilded Sword, the keen blade striking truly, causing the Devourer to recoil once more.

Seeing this, Esmerelda flickers materialises once more, amidst the cracked and blackened stone flags on the floor, evidence of Maebh’s arcane assault. She looks a little singed, and is clearly hurt, but not terribly, and she begins to gather daemonic power in her hand once more, screaming a curse at Harold in a language none of the companions can understand. As she draws her hand back, suddenly amber energy flickers around her and golden ice emanates from her form, freezing her in place. Staring at the queen from across the room, Maebh hands are outstretched, blood trickling from one nostril as the magic takes hold and the two casters engage in a mental battle of will. For now at least, Maebh’s magic holds the queen in place.

“Yes! She can’t get away now!” – Dev.
“Quick, someone get her!” – LD.
“That’s only a half action to cast, can I-“ – Ladyhawk, who stops herself. What followed is probably the biggest sign of growth we’ve seen in any player since we began the campaign.
“Yes, do it! Get her!” – LD.
“I only held that particular spell. I can’t use my other half action now, I can only hold it for a reaction. That’s the end of my turn.” – Ladyhawk, demonstrating both her mastery of the system and her own growth as a player. In the heat of the moment, with this, perhaps the most intense combat we’ve ever had, the table screaming at her to end it and the fate of the entire world on the line, she held to the rules instead of trying to barter for something more.

I was very proud.

“Kel, get her!” – Maebh, screaming, eyes aglow with amber light.

From where he is knelt on the floor, applying bandages and salves to the terribly wounded Xander, Kel’Serrar looks up and sees the situation before him. He grabs his longbow from the floor beside him, from where he had discarded the weapon to treat Xander. He looks at it closely, his eye drawn by the intricate carvings, and for an instant, as he nocks an arrow to the string, his mind wanders to all the many and varied places this weapon has seen. This bow has been with him from the very beginning, since he set out from Dev’Iere all those years ago. He draws, the fletching of the arrow tickling his cheek as he unconsciously factors in all the variables. Range, a little more than thirty yards. Wind, considerable, a swirling gale. Movement, none, thanks to Maebh. He breathes in, mutters a word under his breath, and golden light starts to coalesce around the arrowhead, building, thrumming with power. Kel exhales, and watches as the arrow streaks across the room, an intense golden blur, burning brightly, aimed directly at the head of the blonde-haired queen.

Upon her chest, set into her ornate steel cuirass, the bright green energies of the emerald there flicker, flare and then dull. For a brief moment, the snarling rage on her face transforms into a stunned look of horror, and then there is a blinding flash of light, and yet another explosion shakes the spire, this one strangely muffled by comparison to some of those which had come before, the sound accompanied by the sound of cracking and shattered ice.

When the swirling light clears, the body of the queen still stands, held in place by the vestiges of the icy prison Maebh had encased her in, but her head is gone. Slowly but inexorably, her body falls as gravity claims it and the remnants of Maebh’s ice shatters.

“79 Damage, ignoring Armour. And, just so everyone’s aware, she misses her next turn.” – Sins, laughing.

To Breanna’s eyes, the tether which linked the queen to the Devourer shrivels and burns as her life fades. The creature roars, and, looking closer, the Leathe can see a contingency of sorts built into the tether. With the queen’s death, the very last of her power travels down the line and to the entity. Fuelled by this power, it takes its scythe back in one hand and delivers two, swift, sweeping strikes, attempting to hit both Harold and Breanna in the arc. Bree dodges under the first blow, as does Harold, but the second connects with the badly wounded Invarrian on the backswing, knocking him away and cracking a rib or two and knocking the Gilded Sword out of his grasp. From within the void, the Devourer roars in triumph and its black, taloned hand reaches through the rent in reality and starts to pull it forward, through the cracks in the veil and towards a terrified, huddled Breanna.

Slowly picking himself up again, Harold winces in pain, feeling every single one of his fifty-six years gnawing at him, every single wound he has taken in a pretty violent life, every ache and pain he has ignored every day flooding back to him now. His strength sapped, he manages to sit up and he looks around for the Gilded Sword, which blessedly is not far away. Harold crawls over to it and picks it up, feeling a fresh wave of vigour flow through him. The pain of his freshly cracked ribs fades a little, just enough to allow him to think, and he looks up, seeing Breanna crouched, helpless before the otherworldly behemoth looming over her, breaching the material world. He sees the black talon, the many little fanged mouth snapping and gnashing in its flesh. He hefts the Gilded Sword once more and springs forward, the golden blade cutting through the air to strike at the clawed hand. There is little to no artistry in the stroke as the Invarrian pushes himself past his physical limits, a clumsy cut which is effective for all that. The Sword cleaves through the talons as if they were made of butter and the Devourer recoils yet again from these mortals which dare to stand against it. It screams in agony and lunges forward once again, the deafening keening shriek piercing the ears and minds of all who hear it. Harold takes the brunt of it and he simply screams back, a terrible death-howl conveying the sheer desperation and rage he feels.

Calling upon the power of the Coins once more, Breanna tries again but she can still feel a faint anchoring presence somewhere. She casts her gaze around the chamber, desperately searching for whatever could be preventing her from completing the ritual. Finally, after agonising seconds, she sees it, that faint sliver of power connecting the Devourer to the still in-tact emerald upon the breast of the slain queen.

“Maebh, the emerald! Destroy the emerald!” – Breanna, vaulting over a wild scythe strike.

Yet another flurry of amber lightning bolts rip down from the ceiling, lighting up the void in which the Devourer dwells. Its body is wracked by her power, though it does not seem to be lasting damage, the blackened rents closing up slowly as the entity begins to regain its composure. The last bolt however strikes the corpse of Esmerelda upon the chest, blowing the body asunder. Breanna watches as the tether fades completely and grits her teeth, readying herself for another assault upon the entity. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see Maebh looking at her, eyes blazing with golden light, a feral grin on her face, sharp teeth showing.

“Do it Bree. I will help you.” – Maebh, quietly.

Harold lunges forward and into the void with the Gilded Sword as the Devourer itself leans in towards him. Its great fanged face roaring towards him. The Invarrian thrusts at its hideous face, the Gilded Sword tearing through its flesh as Harold drives the blade through its face and down into its chest, golden light streaming forth in blazing ray. The Devourer flails wildly with one arm, knocking Harold back and through the rent in reality as it screams again. The Invarrian tumbles back into the material plane, a black mist seeping off his flesh and armour, and he groans as he comes to a halt, his wounds screaming at him.

Breanna, with Maebh’s help, calls upon the power of the Coins once more, and this time, the magic within them takes hold. The daemonic energy rips forth from them in a blinding stream, repairing the cracks in reality, filling in the portal to the void. The howl of the Devourer, deafening in intensity, slowly starts to fade as its doorway closes. There’s a crack and the Coins become dormant once more, simply smoking in Breanna’s burnt hand. Silence descends on the chamber, and then lightning crashes outside, in the distance.

Some way away, they can hear a muffled explosion as the battle between the armies of Elspeth and Naille rages on outside the city. There’s no way of telling for sure from here, but it seems as if the Naillish forces have not simply been swept from the field. Overhead, the pale golden moon starts to slowly recede in size. The shadows which roiled upon it have faded and there is no sign of that pale blue magic.

Maebh walks slowly to the blown-out window, the rain blowing in starting to drench her. She looks down at the open ocean beneath at the base of the cliffs, searching for any sign of life, but she sees nothing. No sign of the Beasts Under the Waves, no sign of who that caster may have been. The spirit wisps which had aided the companions during the battle, fade away, back to the wraith-realm.

A feeling of peace starts to descend on the chamber, but it is broken by Kel’s strained voice.

“I’m not sure if I can save him.” – Kel’Serrar, kneeling beside the body of Xander Wrothgar.

The Wrap-Up:
Wow, what an amazing session. While at the time I intended to have this session be the very end of the campaign, it became apparent in the following weeks that the players needed more closure. In addition to this, after the event we determined a mathematical error which occurred in this combat which would have a significant effect on what would happen next.

As such, we do still have one more session to come.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my players for being the people they are. Flawed we may all be, but I would wish for no other group of lunatics to share this story with.

With that said, the final session and epilogue will be coming very soon, so please, stay tuned and we will see you then.

Thanks for reading,

Phoenixguard09
2020-03-11, 09:03 PM
Session 7.4: We Bid You All a Very Fond Farewell

“I saw danger and I passed,
Along the enchanted way,
And I said, ‘Let grief be a falling leaf,’
At the dawning of the day.”
- An old Leathe rhyme, often recited at funerals.

Welcome to the final session of Three Coins. For real this time.

“Don’t worry, the next final session will be in about two months time.” – Sins.
“Are you telling me that this is the final session of, The Game?” – Dev.
“I hate you.”
“That was pretty good actually. Rather clever.” – Ladyhawk.
“Yeah, it was integrated.” – LD.

Darkness. That is all Xander can perceive around him. Absolute darkness. Weightless and silent, Xander floats through the void. Freed from the troubles and pain of what he has just experienced, the Feartarbh relaxes, embracing the nothingness. Whether he closes his eyes or not, he does not know. Not that it matters…

“I’m sorry that this is the first time we have met my lad. I’m afraid I just never seemed to find the time.” – The reedy voice of an old man.

Xander looks, and suddenly instead of the void, he seems to be in a wooded clearing. Overhead, the sun shines pleasantly and a cool breeze touches the bristly fur upon his face. The air is filled with the gentle sounds of birds, singing in the morning sun. Before him, on a tree-stump, sits an old man with a long grey beard, by the look of him, a Midlander, in grey robes. He has a small wooden board in one hand, several sheaves of parchment upon it. In the other hand he holds a long quill, like an eagle feather.

“That’s okay.” – Xander, somewhat puzzled, sitting on a tree-stump of his own.

The old man reaches out and puts a gentle, comforting hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“I fear your time has come.” – The old man, sadly.

Xander shrugs and gives a sad smile in return.

“If my time has come, then so be it.” – Xander, feeling a weight start to lift from him.

“A noble sentiment, and one that speaks volumes of your character. However, I come to you with a choice. There is one last task for you to fulfil, one last role you can play in shaping the future of the world. I can send you back, for a short time only, but enough for you to see this through.” – The old man. This close, Xander can see the whirling of stars in the man’s eyes, an eternity of celestial movements bound up in this entity.

“What are you?” – Xander, in a whisper.

“Will you do it?” – The Grey Scribe, ignoring Xander’s question, his tone just a little sharper.

“Yes. If I can help, I will.” – Xander, solemnly.

The Grey Scribe’s hand glows with a shining silver light as he presses it to Xander’s chest. Everything starts to fade away into darkness once more, the clearing, the blue sky, the flitting birds. Everything, save for the blinding silvery light, almost like the face of the moon.

“Be strong my boy. It will be over soon.” – The voice of the Grey Scribe, faintly, as Xander’s vision turns black once more.

* * *

Xander heaves a shuddering breath and he opens his eyes to nothing but red. He dashes the blood away, and painfully, slowly starts to regain control of his body, turning over onto his back. Over him, the face of Kel’Serrar, for once not obscured by some illusory spell, and, perhaps even more unusually, smiling, the Danann’s fangs gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the shattered window as he tucks a needle and spool of thread back into a pouch at his belt. The others are nearby, save for Maebh, who he sees is standing at the end of the chamber, looking out over the ocean, her slender form silhouetted against the night sky.

Overhead, the Harvest Moon has receded somewhat, and the pale golden glow it gave off is now a comforting silvery sheen, obscured a little by the dark clouds which scud across the night-sky.

“We need to leave.” – Harold, ears pricked as his gaze turns towards the doorway they came through, and the stairway which leads down to the greater palace.

As the Invarrian speaks, they can hear the distant sound of marching feet on stone, the clatter of armour and shouted instructions. Queensguard, and they are approaching swiftly.

“Maebh, how much do you have left in you?” – Kel, looking back towards the mage standing at the great window overlooking the cliffs.

“Not much I am afraid.” – Maebh, quiet, yet calm, her amber cat-like eyes glinting slightly with the reflected moonlight.

“How much rope have we got? Can we rappel down the cliffs?” – Harold, looking to the rest of the group.

“Even between us, there’s no way we have enough rope to get to the bottom of the cliffs, and when these soldiers reach this room, they’ll just cut the rope and we’ll fall anyway.” – Kel, shaking his head.

“If you take the head off the snake, the snake dies. We’ve taken the head off, they just don’t know it yet.” – Xander, groaning as he sits up.

“So we just need to show them the head, or rather, the body, because the head’s been completely destroyed.” – Breanna, inspecting her knives.

“Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it quickly, they’re nearly here and there’s a lot of them.” – Harold, having moved to the doorway to hear the approaching soldiers more easily.

“Well, we can at least lay the groundwork.” – Xander, standing with great effort and moving to join Harold at the door.

“Find the body Bree, we’ll give them what they’re after.” – Maebh, herself striding closer to the doorway, her hands glimmering once more with amber flame.

“Your queen has fallen! Stand down!” – Xander’s roaring voice does not belie his badly wounded state as it echoes down the stairway.

“For the queen! Kill the invaders!” - The answering cry from the onrushing Queensguard. There is a guttural roar and a few howls, betraying the presence of at least one Feartarbh and a few Invarrians amidst the soldiery.

Breanna hauls the corpse of Queen Esmerelda to the doorway and heaves it partway down the staircase, standing back to allow Xander to close the heavy doors.

“That didn’t work. Harold, take this, we might as well try rappelling down to a safe point on the cliff-side. There’s a chance we survive that way, but if we stay up here we certainly die.” – Xander, taking his grappling hook from his belt and handing both the hook and his length of rope to the Invarrian.

Harold nods and takes the tool from the Feartarbh, carrying it to the window at the rear of the room and begins to set it in place.

The Queensguard reach the door and start to pound upon it, the thick wood braced against Xander’s shields, the Feartarbh’s strength still formidable despite his wounds.

“They’ve barricaded it! Bring up Morius, quick!” – An accented voice, possibly an Invarrian.

“Quickly Bree, go down, see if you can find something helpful.” – Harold, urgent, ushering the Leathe over to the grappling hook he has fixed in place.

Swiftly, Breanna slides down the length of the rope, her descent a scarcely controlled fall until she suddenly comes to a stop, clinging to the very end of the wildly swinging rope. A little way below, she can see signs of a narrow ledge jutting out from the rock wall of the cliff-face. It might hold two, maybe three of them, and she doubted Xander would find purchase, but it was better than nothing. She takes a piton from her belt and smashes it once, twice, a third time, into the rock wall, until it holds firmly enough for her to trust it with her weight. She keeps going, planting more of the thick iron spikes into the rock, all the while trying to ignore the dark water crashing over the rocks below…

Above, in the shattered window, Harold sees her progress and follows more cautiously, using the rope to rappel down slowly.

“Don’t tell me I took 90-odd damage just for you ****s to die falling down a cliff.” – Yohan.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the door, a heavy impact slams into the wood and Xander slowly, inexorably, begins to give ground. From what little he can see between the doors from behind his shields, it looks like at least a score of guards are packed on the stairway, most clad in the heavy armour and veiled helms of the Queensguard. A massive chestnut-furred Feartarbh takes a step back and then slams into the doors once more, and Xander is forced back another inch. Caught between the titanic strength of the two warriors, the wood of the doors starts to splinter and crack. They will not hold for long.

Seeing this, Xander roars in rage and frustration and redoubles his efforts, putting every ounce of his being into the task of holding the doorway. His vision turns red as blood continues to stream steadily from his many wounds, the once-white bandages turning a sodden red as Kel’s hasty sutures are ripped by the Feartarbh’s exertions. On the stairway, several of the Queensguard are overborne by the force of Xander’s charge, and fall down the stairs, tripping others on their own way up.

“YOU WILL NOT PASS!” – Xander, all his focus on this one task, to hold the door at any cost.

I feel the need to note down for posterity that the impact of Xander’s blow outright killed a handful of the Queensguard, as two were pulverised by the impact and another three died in the fall down the stairs. At this point, as likely mentioned before, with Frenzy activated, Xander’s Strength is 115.

Kel’Serrar runs to the shattered window and sees Harold slowly making his way down. Cursing, he nocks an arrow to his bow and sets his sights on the doorway, ready to loose at the first one to break through Xander’s defence.

“Maebh, go, I’ll cover the door.” – Kel’Serrar, calling to his fellow Danann.

The mage, herself preparing to cast, stops and turns back to Kel’Serrar. She looks around the room, noting both Breanna and Harold are gone and makes her way closer to Kel’Serrar, but stops halfway, a few paces from the slowly draining pool on the eastern side of the room. The water level has dropped enough to reveal the mangled corpse of one of the Beasts Under the Waves.

“Have they reached the bottom?” – Maebh, to Kel, her eyes locked on the swirling waters of the pool as they drain away.

“Not yet, Breanna’s planting spikes beyond the end of the rope, but there’s still a fair distance to go.” – Kel, taking a swift look back outside to confirm that.

“And what is the plan once we’re all down there? Is there any kind of path up, or do we throw ourselves upon the ocean’s mercy?” – Maebh, intent upon the draining water of the pool.

“I do not know. There’s a dock to the east, with at least a small fleet. We may be able to stay on the rocks at the base of the cliffs and make our way round, or perhaps swim if we have to, then steal a ship. Hard to say, but whatever we do, we must move quickly.” – Kel, starting to get impatient, the stress of the situation clearly fraying even the ranger’s steely nerves.

“This pool is draining. The tunnel leads down, through the palace. It must be the way the Beasts were able to move through the structure. It might be safer.” – Maebh, thoughtful.

Kel is about to respond but another bone-rattling impacts smashes into the doors and Xander roars in agony as he desperately holds his ground.

* * *
Below, clinging to the cliff-face and gripping an iron spike with grim determination, Breanna looks down at the crashing waves beneath her. She sighs, and tucks the piton back into her belt. With only two left, she knows it is pointless to go any further. Even if she reaches the relative safety of the ledge, it will not hold all her companions, nor would they be likely to survive the dive into the treacherous waters below.

“Harold, this is pointless!” – Bree, calling up to the Invarrian, still rappelling down above her.

“What do you mean!?” – Harold, calling back.

“I’m running out of spikes for handholds! I’m going to come back up, there must be a better way!” – Breanna, who starts her ascent.

Groaning with pain, Harold does the same, and the two companions make their way back up the rope, Breanna eventually deigning to overtake the Invarrian, scampering over him with ease.

Kel looks back out the shattered window and his keen eyes perceive both Breanna and Harold climbing back up. Dropping his bow to the floor, he takes the rope in both hands and starts to pull the rope up to assist their climb, careful not to jolt it as best he can.

* * *

Another impact rocks Xander. The doors cannot take too much more of this abuse, and the Queensguard outside know it. A chorus of ragged cheers go up as the chestnut Feartarbh slams into the wood once more. Xander knows he cannot hold much longer, and grits his teeth, his frenzied strength ebbing as his blood flows in deep crimson rivulets down to the floor.

“GO!” – Xander, exhorting his companions.

“Quick, down here!” – Maebh, calling to her companions as Breanna and Harold reach the top of the ledge and Kel’Serrar throws the rope down, to appear as if the companions did in fact go down the cliff themselves.

Kel’Serrar picks up his bow and slings it over his shoulder, joining Harold and Breanna in heading towards the tunnel entrance. The ranger stops however, when he sees a golden gleam on the ground, the Carhold Blade, lying abandoned where Xander had fallen before. The ranger picks it up, and then runs to the tunnel to join his companions.

Another impact hits the doors, and they finally shatter, the chestnut-furred Feartarbh’s charge carrying him through into the shields of Xander behind them. The Queensguard surge forward, and Xander takes a few steps back, to disengage from them. Silence descends over the chamber, as the Elspeth soldiery prepares to finally engage the hulking guardian properly.

Xander looks back, and sees the faces of his companions, his vision red at the edges and dimming rapidly, and notes that the four of them are within the tunnel, the tunnel far too small to allow him access. He nods, his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness against his jet black fur, and gently tosses his shields down, over the tunnel entrance.

“It’s been a pleasure fighting with you all.” – Xander, quietly, only just loud enough for the others to hear.

The Feartarbh turns back to the Queensguard and starts to gather the last of his power. Golden light flashes through the chamber as energy gathers in and around the form of Xander. The scent of ozone permeate the area, the air fills with a nascent hum.

“Tu certē pedicabere iste.” – Xander, to the other Feartarbh in the ancestral language of their people. Whether he understood Xander, no one will ever know.

* * *

Back shortly.

Phoenixguard09
2020-03-11, 09:04 PM
* * *

Even in the tunnel, protected by the heavy steel shields, the companions must shield their eyes from the blinding light which erupts as the guardian releases his spell. The entirety of the chamber begins to crumble, as stone is cracked and shattered by the titanic power Xander has unleashed. Not a few screams can be heard in amidst the sounds of crumbling masonry, and heavy chunks of rock fall from the ceiling upon the shields he placed to protect them one last time.

“No, Xander!” – Breanna, her fingers scrabbling desperately at the shields to try and go back to him.

“Bree, come, we need to move.” – Harold, grabbing the Leathe around the waist with one arm and pulling her along with him.

“We need to follow his last wishes. Down, further. We must find a way out now.” – Kel, quietly, carefully picking his way through the pitch-black, water-slicked tunnel.

Maebh is silent, but after a few moments, lights their way with a softly glinting amber light in her hand.

The way is treacherous, the rock wet and slippery underfoot, and several times, members of the party find themselves sliding a few feet before they right themselves, but eventually, after what may have been an hour or a year as much as they can tell, they find themselves in a cavern at sea-level, overlooking the bay. They take a moment to reassess, and rest, relatively safe here, though they keep a watchful eye on the water’s edge in case a Beast appears. They hardly speak however, each silently dealing with the heartache of losing their friend.

Only a short distance away, the glimmer of lantern-light can be seen, betraying the location of both the docks and the small fleet moored there. Above, the sounds of panic can still be heard in and around the city, screams carrying on the wind.

“That is where we must go. Steal a smallboat and I can pilot it somewhere safe, away from the conflict.” – Harold, gesturing to the docks.

As they watch, bands of figures start to make vessels ready to depart. In the moonlight, the silhouettes betray the ships’ identities, the distinct shapes of Invarrian longships. Harold considers announcing his presence to them and claiming their loyalty, but decides against it for now, and instead the companions continue to rest, warily watching the ships move out into the bay.

Within the hour, the docks are deserted, save for two smallboats. There appears to be no guard presence on the pier. Above, most of the sounds of panic have died down. The companions can hear no sign of conflict either, the regular explosions of the Naillish artillery crashing down in the city having stopped some time ago, and the clash of weapons now faded.

“During that hour, Harold has to piss.” – Dev, who leaves the table to go to the bathroom.
“Harold just walks to the edge of the ocean and unzips. ‘I am the Stormlord.” – Yohan.
“I am the Stormlord, guardian of the sand.” – Ladyhawk.
“Poseidon quivers before him.” – LD.
“**** OFF!” – LD and Ladyhawk together.

Abandoning their original plan to steal a boat, the companions make their way to the docks and then up the road, to come to the cliff-top. To the west, the high walls of Elspeth City jut into the sky, a tall and imposing presence. The great central spire, denoting the location of the queen’s palace, is now gone, presumably brought down by Xander’s sacrifice. Golden fires still burn fitfully across the city.

On the field before the city, the companions can see the Naillish forces taking prisoners amongst what remains of the Elspeth hosts. Both armies are bloodied and battered and seem relatively even in numbers, but the Elspeth forces are clearly demoralised by the night’s events. Some few pockets of resistance hold out across the battlefield, but these are a rarity, and most of the Elspeth legionnaires display a grim fatalism as they are almost herded away in groups by the Naillish soldiery, having thrown down their weapons.

Slowly, painfully, wearily, the four make their way towards the Naillish camp, seeking an audience with the king. They are stopped by a mounted patrol after only a few minutes, and are recognised by none other than Captain Matthias, who brought them to the Naillish camp, only hours ago.

Taking in their state and appearance, the captain doesn’t question them, but merely nods, a solemn greeting, a nod which Harold returns, with but the merest tilt of his head.

“Well met friends. We shall take you to the king. I imagine that there will be many questions for you there.” – Matthias, whose company closes ranks around the companions.

Safe, at last, though the cost was so very dear.

* * *

At first it appears as if the patrol is leading them to the king’s pavilion, but then they take a turn to the right and pass further through the camp, coming eventually to the medical tents on the south-side of the camp. The pained groans of the injured and the dying fill the air and the scent of blood and mass death fills Harold’s keen nose.

Ushered inside, the companions pick their way through the rows of cots, upon which lie many bloodied soldiers, bearing a variety of injuries, though most are grievous. They are brought to a compartment, curtained off and separate from the rest of the patients, and inside lies the king, pale and wan upon a simple cot. He bears a serious cut, from his temple, down the right-side of his face and down his neck too. His eyes are open and clear however, though the young man is clearly in some pain. Beside him, the hilt still clutched in one white fist, lies Xander’s claymore.

His eyes flicker over the party, and there is a slight glimmer of excitement and recognition as they pass over each of the companions in turn, and then they continue to search for a moment for one last large shape in the doorway, but it is in vain. He turns back to Harold, who shakes his head sadly.

“He sacrificed his life for all of us. Without him, we would have surely failed.” – Harold, quietly. Behind him, Kel’Serrar nods, and Breanna dashes tears from her eyes.

“We will ensure his name is remembered. He will be a hero of the kingdom of Naille.” – The young king.

“He will be a hero of many kingdoms, but he will never come home.” – Harold, his head bowed.

“I cannot give you what you so deserve right now, but I would see you all rewarded properly for your efforts and sacrifice-“ – The king, who holds a handkerchief to his mouth and gives a wet, wracking series of coughs.

The young man gives the cloth a distasteful look, seeing the clumps of blood upon it, and looks back to the companions.

“My apologies, but I must rest. I will have my guard escort you away. Reports suggest there have been Elspeth detachments which fled the battlefield and took to the woods.” – The young king.

“My lord, that scar is going to look badass when it heals.” – Breanna, quietly, before turning to take her leave.

“Rest would do us all good.” – Harold, who allows himself, along with the rest of the party, to be lead away by the king’s guard.

“An escort? Normally we only get these when we’ve done something wrong.” – Kel’Serrar, sarcastically under his breath.

* * *

The companions are brought to their small encampment on edge of the forest, where they are enthusiastically greeted by the marcwolves. Toirneach trots over to Maebh and nuzzles her with his snout.

”See, told you I’d look after them.” – Toirneach, mentally communicating with Maebh.

The campsite is a quiet affair, as they settle themselves in to rest. Dawn is not far off now, but the night has taken a heavy toll. As bedrolls are laid out, Harold stands and raises his flask, containing maybe only a mouthful of whiskey.

“To a life well lived. May you rest in piece.” – Harold, tipping the liquor out on the forest-floor.

Kel’Serrar takes a small keg of wine out of his pack, taken from the cultist gathering on Varr and portions it out to each of the four.

“To Xander.” – Kel, Harold and Maebh together, knocking back their portion.

“To my friend.” – Breanna, quietly to herself, joining the toast. Beside her sits the shoulder-saddle Xander left behind at the encampment, and her little furred hand rests upon the well-worn leather.

“Kel, how old is this?” – Harold, grimacing with distaste after downing his wine.

“I took it from that cultist gathering we crashed back on Varr. The first time we saw one of the Beasts Under the Waves.” – Kel’Serrar, tipping out the rest of the keg.

“Kel, that was almost a year ago.” – Harold, disgusted.

“It’s ****ing awful.” – Breanna, spitting it out.

* * *

Wan, pale sunlight streams through the canopy overhead in the morning. Birds sing in the branches, unaware of how close their world came to ending mere hours before, drowned under the power of the Greyflood.

The companions awaken in the later hours of the morning and start to break camp. Not long after, the campsite is approached by a small company of Naillish horsemen, at their head, the familiar, exhausted form of Captain Matthias, and trailing behind, a handful of rider-less horses.

“Friends, I have come to extend warm invitation to you to come with us back Naille for a celebratory parade to be held in your honour through the streets of the city. The king wishes to reward you for your efforts and allow our people to pay respect to your courage and your losses.” – Matthias, dismounting and clasping Harold’s hand firmly.

The companions look around at each other and slowly nod.

“We will come.” – Maebh, quietly, mounting Toirneach.

Matthias offers horses to the rest of the party, which Kel’Serrar and Harold accept. Breanna rides Wolfgang alongside them.

Several hours pass on the ride, and the pale light of morning, by noon, turns into a grey and overcast sky. The companions travel in relative silence, following Captain Matthias’ company. Less than a mile north, the main body of the Naillish army marches back home. Come afternoon, the grey clouds have dissipated somewhat, and the sunset bathes the rolling green hills of eastern Elspeth in warm reddish light. Suddenly, Kel’Serrar fades from view, both horse and rider disappearing. The other companions do not halt.

“Goodbye Kel.” – Maebh, in a quiet whisper. There is no response, the ranger of course, left their company hours ago.

* * *

Many days later, the three remaining companions arrive in Haven, the capital of Naille. The stone-walled city stretches before them in the bright midday sun, the gates open to receive the home-coming army. Citizens line the streets, throwing flowers down upon the cobblestones as the vanguard of the army enters the city, behind their king. The young man is somewhat recovered, and while close-to, still appears a little weak and pale, he puts on a strong façade, and rides along at the head of the column, clad in the armour he wore on the battlefield.

The companions are granted a place of honour in the vanguard, behind the king’s personal guard, and while their deeds are not common knowledge yet, they receive the cheers and adulation of the crowd. While Harold is somewhat used to events such as these, Maebh is rather more uncomfortable with so much attention focused on her and Breanna, while naturally extroverted, finds herself trying to hide away a little.

Some hours later, the three find themselves in a quiet tavern. Outside, the crack of fireworks can be heard rhythmically as the celebrations continue through the afternoon and into the night. Sitting together in a booth, they reflect on where they’ve come from, what they have done and where they will go now. On the wooden floor at the end of the table, Wolfgang and Bach huddle together in sleep, and while the tavern-owner was at first hesitant to allow the two wolves inside, pony-sized as they are, Harold’s offer to pay for any damages was well received.

“What will you do Bree?” – Maebh, quietly sipping on a mug of water and feeding strips of meat to Crithtaluin, who lies sprawled across her slender shoulders.

“I guess I’ll go back to Greenstone and pay off my bounty. I have more than enough now. I’ll find my brothers, probably set up a little shop in the village I guess. What about you Harold?” – Breanna, eating a peach.

“There were Invarrians all through these lands, working as mercenaries, and not a few of them are probably out of employment now. I might go looking for them, offer to provide them safe passage back to Varr. Better that than trying to scratch out a living as deserters in the wilds. Deserters don’t last long. Then, once back on Varr, I’ll go see my sister, make sure she’s safe and help the election of the new Stormlord go smoothly, whoever that might be. Maebh?” – Harold, downing an ale.

“East. To the Wardenfells.” – Maebh, quietly.

“Home? You’ve never really spoken about your home before.” – Breanna, curious.

“I don’t have a home anymore, but I do have a goal, and it lies to the east.” – Maebh, finishing her water and standing. She takes her spear from where it had been rested next to their booth. She looks at it, taking in the intricate engravings on the ancient steel head and the magically preserved feathers attached to the haft, remembering the day Aeva had gifted it to her.

The Danann grasps the weapon tightly.

“I must go now. We will meet again I feel, but not for some time. Farewell.” – Maebh, who turns and stalks out of the establishment, leaving Breanna and Harold behind.

“This is it then?” – Breanna, offering her own mug of water out to the grizzled Invarrian in a toast.

“It is. Farewell Bree.” Harold, who clinks his own mug to hers.

* * *

Two mounted figures, hooded and cloaked, ride at a slow, even pace through the heavy undergrowth. To the east, the high peaks of the Wardenfells loom overhead, ominous and imposing. The canopy is thick overhead, allowing only a little light to pierce through.

Reaching a clearing, alike to almost any other, one figure dismounts and pushes their hood back, revealing a shock of white hair and the pointed ears of a Danann.

“Now, where is it… So long ago, I don’t even know how I did it…” – The male Danann, under his breath as he moves from tree to tree on the edge of the clearing, his slender fingers gently running over the bark.

His search stops, and his fingers trace over a sigil carved into the tree. He closes his black eyes and recites an incantation, almost silently. The wind changes, and brings with it just the faintest scent of smoke. He opens his eyes, and there before the two figures, rather than the green clearing, lies a small village, or rather, the burnt-out ruin which remains.

“I told you I had something to show you. This is it. Welcome home, sister.” – Kel’Serrar Naya to Chirya.

* * *

Epilogue

- Tremor Ironfist: The Ironfist family’s legacy continued apace in the northern lands of Nordtarnet, long after Tremor’s death in 1648. Tremor’s half-brother, Bain, was successful in expanding Nordtarnet into Southreach, making the dwarven kingdom the most powerful realm in its immediate area. Eventually Bain himself was assassinated in 1686, but Nordtarnet remains a constant trouble to the north for the people of Southreach. The whereabouts of Tremor’s sister, Marya, after the events of 1648 are unknown. (Tremor Godriksson Ironfist was 50 years old when he met the party in mid-1647 and died in battle at the hands of Ragnak the Butcher, at the age of 51 in late 1648, mere days before his 52nd birthday)

- Aeva Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn: After fare-welling the companions in the early months of 1650 in the town of Urik’s Landing on the southern coast of Unterguardt, Aeva spent some time with her family, wracked with guilt. Unable to allow her friends to finish this journey without her, she took a smallboat and sailed south, alone and arrived off the coast of Elspeth during the final battle against the Grey Devourer in the middle of 1650. During that final conflict, she lent her own might to the struggle, entreating the spirits in the area to provide aid as best they could. Unfortunately, it seems as if she perished in the struggle, and, if she did indeed fall, her vessel and remains were never recovered. (Aeva Aett’kviss Nordur-Vatn was 22 years old when she met the party in mid-1648 and supposedly died, whether by drowning or at the talons of the Beasts Under the Waves, at the age of 24 in the conflict of mid-1650)

- Xander Rothgar: Brought down by the great powers unleashed by Queen Esmerelda’s minions in the final battle, Xander hovered on the threshold between life and death, and was given an opportunity by an unknown, powerful entity, to return and complete his task. He sacrificed himself, bringing down most of the palace to ensure the escape of his companions. After his death, the young king of Naille, Manden II, has the great claymore gifted to him by Xander, re-forged, keeping the cross-guard with the bull’s head motif engraving upon it intact. Manden II became known as the Bull King over the course of his long reign, and was considered a just and temperate ruler, a fitting legacy to the noble guardian who gifted him his sword. (Xander Rothgar was 50 years old when he met the companions in late 1649 and, though he did not know it, had turned 51 only a few weeks before his death in the conflict of mid-1650)

- Harold Oakenshield: Leaving the Midlands of Norbayne with over a hundred Invarrian soldiers, gathered mainly from those who fought as allies of the armies of Elspeth, Harold went back to Varr. While he found Ravnsalm largely intact, and his sister Helga, safe, he was dismayed to learn that Helga had sent her litter, Sherbald, Bakli and Skye, away to keep them safe. Sadly, the caravan they had been sent with had been lost in the civil war, and despite their best efforts, the three children could not be found. After a brief period of internecine struggle on the island, Harold himself took up the mantle of Stormlord on the island in the year 1651, whereupon he married and had a litter of nine pups. Harold subsequently ruled for twenty-two years, eventually abdicating in 1673 and was succeeded as Stormlord by his daughter, Godiva. In the year 1679, Harold is visited in Ravnsalm by none other than Maebh. It is rumoured on Varr that Harold had Maebh summoned, but those with knowledge of the mage know well that she cannot be summoned, and goes when and where she wills. What they spoke of during her visit, none know. It is rumoured that Harold requested the working of some great magic from her, but whether she agreed or no, not even the rumours say. (Harold Oakenshield was 53 years old when he met the party in mid-1647 and eventually died peacefully at the age of 86 in the year 1680)

- Breanna Blackrose: The Leathe returned to Greenstone and paid off her bounty with the substantial fortune she had collected from her travels. Most of her money went to her brothers, but she retained enough to start a little apothecary in Greenstone, Easy Peasy Pots With Breezy. She never saw Harold or Kel’Serrar again, but over forty years later, when the Leathe was nearing the end of her days, her black fur now almost entirely a dark silver-grey, she was visited in her shop by Maebh. They spent several days together, recounting the stories of their youth. Three days after Maebh’s departure, Breanna herself died. While she had no children of her own, she often looked after her brothers’ children, and was well-loved by all in Greenstone. (Breanna Blackrose was 20 years old when she met the party in mid-1647 and died peacefully in Greenstone, at the age of 65 in 1692)

- Therressa Bannimagen: Therressa spent considerable time as a reaver, journeying far afield. She was successful, and built up significant wealth. It is unknown whether or not Theressa ever sought to reconcile with her estranged son. (Therressa Bannimagen was 22 years old when she met the party in early 1648 and passed sometime after 1700)

- Kel’Serrar Naya: Next to nothing is known of Kel’Serrar’s whereabouts following the banishment of the Grey Devourer. It is worth noting that Chirya also vanishes from the record at approximately the same time. (Kel’Serrar Naya was 27 years old when he met the rest of the party in mid-1647. His fate is unknown)

- Maebh Preachain-Eite: Upon leaving Elspeth, news of Maebh was few and far between. Rumours told of her fascination and obsession with the Formoraigh, and most suspected that her future plans would involve them in some way. Reports told of a Danann mage, accompanied by a mantikor, heading to the Dragain’s Tail and entering the depths of the Merigund there. From that underground realm, she swiftly passed into legend. (Maebh Preachain-Eite was 28 years old when she met the party in mid-1647 and disappeared from the record sometime after 1650. She did resurface twice since then, to visit both Breanna and Harold before their respective deaths)

The Wrap-Up:
And there we have it, Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword finally completed. Once again, I must thank everyone who came on this journey with us, from my players who put up with everything from the start, to those intrepid readers who kept up with this cluster-**** of a tale over the years. We’ve been through a lot together, so if you have read any of this at all, thank you so much.

If you’re interested, please go check out The Norbayne Campaign on Instagram.
The Norbayne Campaign (https://www.instagram.com/the_norbayne_campaign) There’s constantly new photographs and artwork being uploaded to it, so give that a cheeky follow if you’d like to get that stuff. There’s a bunch of photographs from this very session on there, complete with reflective comments from each of the players, which is well worth reading.

One final announcement, we do actually have a new campaign, which I will be running, set in Norbayne, approximately 80 years after the events of this game. Seven Stones and a Pale Shadow is the name, so keep your eyes out for that one. We have eight players, some very interesting characters and the return of some fan-favourites. I for one, can’t wait to start sharing those new adventures with you.

Anyway, that’s it for now I guess. Once again, thank you, dear reader, and goodbye.

Phoenixguard09
2020-03-26, 07:39 AM
For anyone interested, the absurdly talented Lamaendiir streams his artwork on a semi-regular basis.

At the time of posting, he is working on a portrait of Florian Glasdyrain, Owlshifter's character from Great Maw and Forgotten Glories.

http://www.twitch.tv/lamaendirr

Check it out guys, it's very neat, and there'll be more Norbayne content coming in future, including sneak peaks at the comics.

Phoenixguard09
2021-04-14, 08:33 PM
It has been quite some time since we finished Three Coins off. In that time, we have progressed to some other games, still set in Norbayne, the write-ups of which will be available in the future.

If you're interested, the first few sessions of our next main game, Seven Stones and Pale Shadow can be found at this link: https://exilian.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=6104.0

In the meantime, the following spoiler tags contain images of each of the Three Coins characters as crafted in Heroforge. These images are all probably accurate for the characters during Arc 3, save Aeva and Xander, who the company had not met yet, and so therefore are depicted as they are when they join the party.

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Fq6qpqv40ehgzw_XOGMFJR4Bwgm1ZI93Md__-8ZyIwVD7biSYZdPuwYZQDMYhXJR3yvxgUZfm913u6yJd8n88QT 9UcoXmkwRWOG9gweVuve8oTj16zNjZuWj-oWB46vwn3UkS_myVamc7b1IaF0-avYMlSf3WnpBHjd3jf3sTqBvtDArQyNiWRk-_GkY9HfHbDMy-mS8RRyjgAbXa6G1ETQU0nGaNNspwng-38Lsz7UVX3qT-ATxTbXhGxj4ccXulwYCTcp6c6d_GZfGyiohi2HERY24IIIapD0 8BHUY6lvi7qCz7BJL14GgMlKydh04FYs4OP90y7URNrt9c41Um 5c7i_nwfC9KisAqIsF44QCV_EoTfsod3YySBQonwNewTQTSxUL o8V5G5MwsuKdtdLuGkPGqAACqW6F1aO5CxOwpqkf64T4rQxzXL 9sJQZAmBan6egoh96lc2VS7TP22c571WGFgRbAm1JopO3sgQD1 GqzsYwtfQzWeycvIdRVJNdgRmjaYBB_MhIWMK-X-sFDwOPZ23pw_aG_P6eGGLr69BjMXvEWsf81uLDszVohkWt4acF _ZU2zPVjQs4i-L4UAIWCS5ABcNWsnh0En6XOCj2wYm_dFAYvAqZKdghLY0Qmlk_ dES8nfhnddIRKpZOWwnafXgUrnNV0HmjbsGT0sgCWXPTV7TKpW WIjqY4nkwktHEZ9dGkcTTCe9NUPt4WVK0=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/bQdo-aQsxFUoTXr_kSk3Xc2EVYJMVTv0V0Y2f0ub21f_ALQiqxIDhQO d4Emp59nS3Z72YcchuoQCPGLvPfx-IM5Q4D_EkNjItAl8OVAVxWxEQIrbV45lb4ZGF-M1ijlFj0UL2RiHgLABHTv726IBfwSQYM5c5nzovagtpGvZDo9B cryYZNoiWSNngQR2QQ2XfqZpbxmbCNtIZXyjnkVrdWobmy0TLY 5vjdgdVWMkk0G22CzbWGacoOD2TUG1N2ZRkVnV6nVUFqC6DNdy nltuYhNfWuzsC12lBqAhC-wdWyPBeGJd3dgzfw0IwobusNztjiLrFc7MCm693iba4G_Z8mjR qtP76SXS7SIHjN00JxjJeMbBCwnTYJzDAXcM9nzrqzp3a4Tgp1 NkhH4q4ewOhMbMPFqYtxssy7-dVj_FRM04g6jHyT9Lm0aOknaGjIl2wDBqzOWIZu-J5vFsq9OKlMvMKuiSicT1g6dumt654TSKqhV0E-gcXMc5jAr3Ik0uPAAs2NJ1dJY5KuGDzA4jJbzCUcsYLpCSOj3r wXz9YhkCmtM6UydJBGCGwiu1OhUlA3q7ibdmiNWjJ9K2ukrTyn lKMDx2ptRsuaMcucsHu5NoC1c8wlHKnNPVN39iBA87YanrMqII CJ7Z_Rxj_zRWtLUsmSgzrC5TLPXzp9S3ycTkWyWJ16_k_SqiE1 p8YvjOfmGu-71PABFuQ8XJMfKQp7U=s238-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/CPjUW_8B5e2p7C1dSiGQ5h5OdU7a0wg_OnI1lo8nmgSePi8mlO 7g2DOWOv0azo94uqFzGR8-huSp-XUnK0i0wo3DQdS_-9i5HOq4YjuyHB2L2i11s5BpERaDt_yPXZ9YUJ0u8B2ioL2NcaO aSds46nHYDdeL9IsmEoul9gjxV8NebZMkJG-_RPObxJpQSapeg3AnMj59vSZtZXK_UKLw_z3nTSLfMNXDnog8H 9Agocevu-WEeX-GugJ5MZDmnlN22153JYsOwhdLB8rdsPp36U2naRYwOyejDVmCn FEOmEgN01OdvbcR8WKi8Y5V8mw3YHI97_c4GQ1OCndtok6UPXZ-M-PVAs524U8d4qUZCRkjspiFtMnVXjXTrMjBI1M5TNEJiv9pqJY1 IXVNxF-evmFsWdIeWMCfCSCViZpPau_CNFZwzXRHhjxhKNaQQ4EMUHonJ i0wnT4tOxv2ahF2CB8dJ0rl00HPEQL04l1QPNVgF4TPnI__fAR 2P37n4JjuSNnx6if8UWYf7llOqzP6GDyLyEOxyr1lyFvEu-p39RdlKGNjb2jlpvTvZ-k3De9Iar0kft3qUpVyZwbHfv-wawMftxsCz4xJihHfdICToo8IyqIEn11DXTHV1aekGLktRcM2B bGGbbdT3h8EpMmoxTSdrJ890e5J3qEwxwcxDKeNNNTn_wTQ9AV 3JZu2-8_3Hto62fS2QwBI7nH369UMDmI=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/g_CRpzkYpczry_jqcRtToplm-Tpf4M9lTCati2j7LBL0o3m2f9DCCnmcwQnppPrqUQsvF5Uyq0R-voaHa_P_qq-qVbxQtIwwbKlkfSlleSIx7vHjxBQ958VimOxk7bAyRNhnKdxFl M7--XdKoYQSUUUjSi9xn0B75n6SJLeOBtV9yvabTZXIzgcZ5D51Tmu WKfE9ET3c5vcutFz1RAAr8X2Y85Nnd5pjGpHcowPwp3bUVWHWb YMqjdUrRDIvTtvOhjbYPVq-VEr3yuX7etcDc6LsrJoLMpVn4FBL_ChBzQZMV7WdDPqZoD7_0O wKLHk33YMAVO_alnYbIVEvgIxAy3eq3HiXvlNmmL9nlihUmHXa Z_787RrF2Zmz-kJVnuvvaJ9UEUtUeg0TjrOC9giQd9AZlu5DbGUC867LLy3Xejm K-NO6iKAWotRX2vE5uiHzszhfpXala0EVhAjSrovJJMjc0vzcrQ6 aH_dN5thlzWSQi77jI6hLtbptnPvrVty1Rzrdgj4-PBvlEOIidnKnIpPIbspxLzXefsD8y1KMdhNpp9tCNVA3YEk8N_ _e91MuKa9Fd644_CYAazW1GSGeE-fPZlv8wm34rSTLNBQv6YnT6aaGJTDNRQ8RxnuP6GDOXTaE4Zb3 3EcR2IN9v2Adg0Jizwhd1l5L-ZN39WrLAqtfFquwH1QMlSA2m-cWrZI_T1ot1ZPgwNpxaVh6nnhJTRU=w239-h238-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/haFVWI0j8t3kbbkBXB360aFXT-VtOnKlkyu9iDBT4VCBURhtIQXBtCubV41hdjUrzv_QY5cY0K7Q 7YKPYWqBjiPUvEeEEzctLjn-8C9BxALhOs77iVnNLGvSVRI4-YnRmkOenmHou0yTsUs1CxwrUoaK7U48MUB6Dj--DZ3JYQ1PHC_DhXy2vp_6FqaASkIuvQdm804GA6Iged_HBlRG60 UaOKVmHGN4ft30e5XIP1ZTMGl7-oofpw-TAy4pmaKKYJPPWP62DILTiJLue-Qs_jTGbtpRv1Fha3nSUBXEqc9qS-h2cxkv8Vdgy4-kB697ZVhatbVpsjUDsDO_9udKL9lrciJIUiG85YzoH8CD1Kybx RkeqjhMnaU0AWGTfJtbCOT13BkTeeXLH_bftAaNmvxBE47Wz8R 0lwEH9g1H_EQOw5I8cDklqWlxuDADVE_pRUjRhgVY95uO7yjnJ VO9QDGCXr3NwjeqfPhmga3MGMBlx3sZEh39Cwo4LmPy-R1EizUqWjdMm5n22IoyouFdWIa8r7abNWCUjqV05Drn6qFt3Pq gN4AFH8fhgisuemEcMiWZKRhCgUKSOh6vxmNgh7LxbwCCl1Cc_ _u8K2oXFoxw7IBGI2rZ8TpelA9rJlmk-nBeE9nalcNfTWHnPWSg8Z_ejLHA12RuvtGVsodOH2g7L89FckH-mcR8SnNbhGMN90vup8DuMvSy1ipKKk3pzEY=w239-h238-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/irTJoq4RakQS5aa_TAGhD5xCZDJbKKFn8V1eiDct3AL8XQNdqC 9SogM9Eyzv1X4DrbKlyxxe6xbRNZ4xUnNZ8HHEZjNhLl2U9O_I M89EXQQ9N3tAQKIFfy9mJvhyE7v5xA3WnWGzuXt5eIT_0woKyL iPc-KqfW7CEO4D3qWcQoKxjb4VkxEQcc3X5aId-s3G3UtluHnYB145J3SJ1_FyzuRoVXZnVNRIQXtzvi38oJY3m06 h5CPFKmnDzSssGNY_oLtKKu69Rp7BPI0LwUaGpGByAiWX9GBCk NNis7so1jpqbLOz_acZqPyzFh7cv3SdeXiJ9kLQ2oUkGJVC3eP p4oDBro8oUkZKLayvZ1yeuidSWN9LcClk2rXwNezjdr5imZAEE cgyHFRIApNc-FkxqIF8zpi_uK4Bxvk1e4KXLUkgeFsuZZ16LeJ92ReAixnx7RR 7XU24PGT0WPykjG181sIUBsztW2XMyOtQB3REcmWwuoxPW7M1w d7p_UzjtsR-bv6c7y4ZPpuuExYcXzfBD9LNC2PLSuwOtuRXtlKPgGPXS44G-l6Prdiq1O2VJGIHzbnPGvqD0hN-i1d8XCE0lO9n31Tl1y-JZJUKD8nJYVge0zRKUePa7IKpnf-KOenbgSA4g_HLFoW8mnnNdiDTsu4IURd6tq0lpjQJq4wIkbzKk y-gEgUsWZZjzKBSn-HxY65fsE7tvwiUHR7lhqNs4fM=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/bKeNRvM0J5uNlqqzvu4evmT-7mBYwQdeQoU8BxdutV0A7d-f_hG1sNgZZrXmLKtrKM5QJSQrfUGxqa9PWHoBVpq7plrkWTqGX-LiBNparkUkRyzGKp4M6mbrwr2O6-chG07KfeD-1UTdRxkyKdpHD_jCE8wGnPeF5sUHmlIr6Chl1ngyF7pvj4Wm_C 7ZQ1qjV88k1ivO_isu-d8IQely4Aiix6n54mK1xY5mCYACI8sgKWCoUgUVsxjPEnAh4ax 5EvNf0z0JrtVdvqTwiVbHmC92eiA7XENL8vnh4CiQuipNRWfp8 qmD9Z2qUIK1sClKF1gsmNA3EfXKEjpOFXB2GbKCdunOq949FQ_ GWoPlkShfyM49c6reXyZlHF3N6EhoNbbWnRgvSU5e19852eQwU mhdkAzVnrqaPFQ5vnqULQSV_WuNq_0umT1vDF0C2iJutQARquq VYfLMaCuSCu9UOWUu2c1WrW_Ud2WKNKHELv_2mqKNqa1MgYq3A E46I9SfEW6jcws7EwMYIiVv9P87w1Tfo1VSSckYESkotUMOXvy K3kiiIxIm9QhRA0Sl1uyTjF03yz3QrDCKLggesfp1yktFLjxtm Rbe8pIlt5cPFLMwQKAmP7q2epb1trfXp1wMnad2Zs4_EQOIIKh sUz7BF3P3yOj8yK3tc8o49-74YwcbjIGJ6E8gis-RT0jz3HoUw9Kv1Fx25VpEKeKlNoyWDsY=s238-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/6ktWJF6IcixgzkMGKL2jIHsTW097MKne7RKzzdVq0Mi-i-8xZ2DnfF620acS7MhpeSf8vwybL2r7ObFsSN6BWBOzUdARTZ9a n8ds23pvOhOH2qM5xlZijEmmEqLG6yu2KBV_VaFaJ5wGFKiFJM pNn6FxlLSBKsN9ut88hwMn0ipHxObcL6ucz9n_WSpywk_skYJK 1stP1yFXOlUUrf63c3RD_HNROV9OpxGwsfnR5p1pJ9UmuvGqg6 v3jLa9sU5px1txlLVvCk9pbGZ0jiTnK2VWvrQ4WIuYuEIqSyeI uCbJxw5hE1MIvISbA1qAvWi5-fxC484waIhTSdEg7RH3DKHUvGWDEiwAwxjcYcWPKUtjbmrFPMi DS3gM_3J2weuYMuqRT8In0E6ie6GYkEd0-gSi4bXWTnlsGUniFjfzl6j8je2IhUBGd3zrDdXFuoxOUCGa1wZ IWif9MBBajSdxdosdOgTj_ElL8F9ZiWI2EfmWP4VjH-_5QeC3aJEQdPJz13D0wVIfTvH_99VtfRMgwMDjBIRB1EULhWaf BD3TH7h3mOz4MCDWud_EckTCwWZ5s6rxapluKA1Y27_BUl2BFZ PPMJhcKNMKXUvDWXy6y8b3CgPMN07bTeTe8GmcW-UYoJ_myTuZotXNcl1e79RBLHN_tWIchMnh3_fC3C42CJqH2Awh IWdW4ncR2zcDWaH9z9tW64IaHuy-yas7W1NTVb4=s915-no?authuser=0

Also, here's some versions of each of the characters as of the end of the campaign.

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pFSZhofTMrvXtGTTa5rZVJblyWPO1X6VgVJV3fMFxoVcob2kvu zhx9NPy8ddDK0M44dKWwtqi2l6Qqh5tWzVWQi5O_zS4wWfoIzG 61yA27uqt2p_satG5_fHcP5nNMiXO80LgpbZLR_pNQV_bAndim 6KRYlrlRfQkiGvZyQZmbqfzWWSxD32lEoXsBFJAyNdTC5fFW2m ahGcIjoVpV68etMeg6U8X3Hz2xzJbaoNGZX2UtWhFbsrac8r4Q ikcptRwLScPj0EmEoeh2lBLuSlGJ4VyC-2WDEeTHF5ct9gPgQSx09-958rqXt1aPU_5nHJo55P5nxsz_jHdEmyM0frUcP8h7CWbA5NLE c17ZklnCkYacJS3mtPrK12HYxFwu7IfyrsMo7stJM7llXHUD0Z R-PQfzyaO4fhwsI-q0v1BBmhwkfO7RgrjrR6SpCK1gCGeJG0Ry4B7Iaf7x2_-iwzQkMEgJeYKYRs0cxKSHDBz5MuHxbE_fUsevD7D4FhrSZoseU yqXkXyhtz7tYV1B-EZEACXktJs6CzvUrdm4TnojE4ZVLwc9g2E4ESkZhEIr1oXen58 8L7myzJ3T4Vv0m0joAZhs5XABkzuf3Ol-6wrlUQUns7BhXefv-6VPMjhsruqRppVjGESuCQEgabqOTTALXY3QICtPYKlborlhhuC Ju9_IIb8WiNWgMQGWRWjzEiUodBFGSxJDNAEDeY0k7y_OE=s91 5-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/sYOd3GFVkRGN1PtrR4on9trHA2RHAvcFcbVrosEcsoROzXe11X DflpmGt51r9d-TcgQUA4G1IZ8liEd0UXybQd9AbXr04bsiJE9hsG8LghBh_PcPI ovLkkWZP56w8wmEUzA5SjnHcNs8t5yYytilk33iAmlB7P2KRFJ _FSbxQCQPnwHoTt4LPEkqcbROzuciq3HDg2TRRaQdaKe3Lae8P Bg2RXYZqkbHCo2GcsAowcXtf1FTDGE4FvitiSEIh1scd1Of6aH OqBsj6OgXHcflKHqV2PKdJExFA8knkY0Q0JUHK7du-EZ8V7s94IEAkP0nvc8vUz29y7-OjhHnNstJbiuwoEgQiXLa4lM1FTBxcB94xKeJGksB_W4UviV0E QNecErzpt5o8hKm0C0hPyoldZWydt_UvuQWxovDI5_3Rr7piDZ uRId5QVRygV7u5yt6SY83JIrbwfUh56_jIymQdmatfK_WOxK7Y 7WuwVMnEi9MR_kgqqL-rH77XJeInuO_vflHqwUTFo0lhNmyLnXV3RVv1feXaj1ZX8FhM6 PV-2RDWkn0g7Nc7grKxMUU2z-vwk4UmX38xxmIgMwppKQIin4gijk0NTXVoZ4a8XseBkcFZ7-vbjKsz7fIRbvlcxBzbVmNFz8bHY_Mw_ft5NvpwlflXv3-enAjn4q0sYWYplpqwvx6kZUkBWZp1DPMR7z_IDxiv2glC_3o-rT2mbqWy64=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pC76WVx16IHXCp_codhJCCIPBNK4TwzgeRWM_Lt-IPp44Yy5mnMZOQzIm0T2Ij93gWhPn2Z_TV3Kx0IMoxGZBnA3ct flw4aNAKLfbflvnXx4hWuFwbReYWWp1soHoRYuMllgWX2TLh2B DyLwh3ZVdRU545E6deHlQapRpfBju4D4ppxjh01qRt05B9WVJT LElRD0G3Sp0o_QQCPd7guH-5pqbv_IE7UMMV4QkI3pOElM-fUAcyslOSVGOTSxkDL0IqNTpNaPHjFzAHn3Hy9VH9wczOvgl1k Ij6n6ptL3j4aZSqRJ1wyFOZcMdnfVd-RhrrMBWRrui-7hAE1Z4wqw0Xky_vEej05eaDwz9FpILGU0bmxufZu1v7H37x3m ZqXXQupCHJSJzgvsk_PEWBN_d0WRNaqv6jA7Sv7mVlC4Jt5a3r OpsTyMu33T_v6OvTo9gTkTPKDATmZt6LiW_uZ8DM-2beLK3ZeI2JSHAKd06QjTyXvaFypZbR4Zz-_jLwHly8x_tDb1r2z1IeTdlMCt8sRr6xJai71tt2goNq9kpmFk uzbTqr6SVEK0AfbBE1eepEfJR-WBlr1ZA3H9pTVx_upVxqRV50rrLhP60xHu-GuKnCkQ2zpZbA04io3QVyJ6hTZBMcE1V7qjYMcttb7ORb9a7DH 4pMwhifR8u_I73D7ZDvo6VzjAnq-44JOeYrkcRpibBaNMyPEAoLhhXCc2gr8=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3VWEizHxZjBTsVZrCRH3IKI9GiRfngq3FiHsjFdhOIVZAFrRID Ui60r5BlBGccsrVtEvTGsEiHXZcGQe-u7DTk3JpfIzdkTeDGJnFdRzWWtcLhxVWl849RwN6pjruX_FlAc 9ayqcXPBe6bujoAiXn8aYxbc_m7H0-tgXNv1HNAyet1CWWg2a5e668RfGbuTw_Nfv-UgK-nIcuK7a1bLcqPwBLuwEsFRZmewlpemWGjXWwqEgz9psvxbaY3G RJz7wX0E_k3NnUNR5pgn5N-GUo4uol1bJHCA_WHKloY4Phh0kiJbjOvnU0YtK2Ww0bh_V9WmY JaIL4ISTaOVP8spagoy2PLvJM5qHzmNssz0_tIN337S7U2U1Ey 9e3HxoF6xFWGY7pNCfw-wxXdHb7SSEVhRPT8sKVwXlVxZtJ4CaXEW8yGo4IJJyXkqBOsNj cPBhPTXnoy4X8keF9FdQpUzJ3wkkT6KtvGR6D-Jj6g0AiHCTfzyniqZMzUAsT5Vg-Cu_9o7WaCfZdugLALLCdhvscySKMBslawW8y8IDTxTFGbljQtw v1vOt6FvF8VmTAAdY8Vqh8_7sd0V38p26tV2CEbbSMk6A8Dckh oFAfPcIHvMA44b3gIiRFhxF71PPSzGxvHgz3bkGTYpxk55bVIc ZiGWCiTxPWJc8nTS92KbloVDPqNYDcHorn5ZUD7REkLo3Esl9r qa2uoqHHltX-qbWwK8=s915-no?authuser=0

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/kRhzzWh7LhjoH0WqMNStEesbEB6iOl22um2n3xHPFg2Zn5MkVA CK6DRFmFQ7lnvqwxYygdkcHFe4Wln1noMwoZCla9dIhy9fNvrM xCB9Dtj21hb5VApkBomlZr763tRrN1aJMHC_vWCWlsPSF0Va64 a4tiQBMrJ0819P822mwXYPRwh_7w3LD2PEwIUpRVci5nMPxXa3 lByh2rsc49R6e0My9i8lbU8SKwdzLXM4OAvMNKCFO3dE4SVArb 18U2sOX8wB89CSvz1Zfjmmn722P0oC_gMCMgHd75MXL8ta7WWZ OA3wK8TAVzMHpV1MFzaCaaTvOJio9KYiyRdi_gaK-22tInvh46ZFqwbhGCaKm5Ssi_zBOazf-wfl98Z471lAEYeyTvgtgvijFOLSirssbmDVhvUIsFIT0x7EFKC F-4dNILqoh1tF_CjLScDAzyFrUzvvxkrrG2D-KxFRVtYetXRs3EpY6yM443QmCtmEw4kQTqlzt4ElKTvKrb2dUL daLf6yjsPiM19GOorSMuot6EOz4nO1SjuFPm45oT5B9T6Zx_oM CsGBb9MolFTAZl5XJAdsi7p-i3xekuZ90mldvkT0-68bo6xKj0rXgvWBbfuSOS6X6-4QRsX05s-ENesSClkOE-YZdCXS3Vk3YXS7wL2RNXXQPAzokxzZhTOORSI63rXQLLDe1CdH ro-EVm_zJRngX9u9AVb0tqqe1Wf7rDQ=w239-h238-no?authuser=0