The Sword of Light Campaign Journal (ongoing)

[Monkeyknuckles]

Let's see, the game setting, the rules and the group in question :

Setting: The game takes place on a single huge landmass split in half vertically by a continent-spanning mountain range. The technology level is standard feudal era farming stuff, arcane and divine magic is common enough that wizards and clerics are treated respectfully in all but the most remote and isolated back-water. I run it as sand-boxy with the players choosing where to go and what to explore, with the meta plot waiting for them when they find it.

Major Cities and Nations:

The Generically Arabic Elves: Capital city is Jedah
The elves rule a vast kingdom to the south and west of the continent, primarily dry and arid with large well developed settlements built around oasis dot the place, they have an ancient and well run society run by a Sha, who can be either male or female depending on who is deemed most fit to rule by the current Sha, who appoints a successor based on merit from amongst the highest ranking noble families. The

The Dwarves, children of Bael'Mag Mordan:Capital City is Blackgate

Dwarves are usually found only within or close by the massive mountain range that splits the continent vertically in half, barring a narrow area of rugged hills to the south, and extending into a series of sea mounts to the north. Dwarves have a symbiotic relationship with the Mountain, leaving it for longer than a few months causes them enter a deep and potentially fatal depression, eventually losing the desire to eat after roughly a year of separation from their home. All dwarves are born to either the Stone caste or the Fire caste, at birth they are gifted an elemental companion that matches their caste. This is a direct sign of their Titans love and favor, so that they will never be alone.

A rare few dwarves are born severed, unable to hear the voice of the mountain, and are not asked explicitly to leave, but it's uncomfortable for everyone involved if they remain in the mountain; for the normal dwarves it's like having someone who's head is missing but still seems to get around just fine coming to dinner, and for the severed dwarf, seeing the contentment of the others is a constant reminder of what an aberration they are. So while not forced to leave, severed dwarves inevitably leave the mountain and seek their fortunes elsewhere.

The dwarves do make one exception to outsiders in their sacred mountain: The trade city of BlackGate. Taking it's name from the massive solid iron doors that separate it from the surface world, forged all of one piece as a testament to dwarven cunning and skill at metalworking, the city is a massive hollowed dome within the mountain, adorned with huge statues depicting former great rulers and images of their Titan. The whole affair is lit by massive gas lamps fueled by natural deposits of methane, with a rail system in the city that connects to the rest of the mountain range through highly secured tunnels. The dwarves are a social collective, all wealth generated is distributed amongst their entire people. Prestige and social standing is based off of how much a dwarf has improved life for his fellows.

So they're rich, they're happy, and they are physically incapable of siezing and holding territory from other countries, the dwarves are very popular with their neighbors.

Meridia aka the Good guys:

Meridia is both the name of the nation and it's capital city, built on the ruins of the gnomish capital after the gnomes were destroyed by the Titans 1000 years prior. Meridia is ruled by King Anduin de Meridia who became king 20 years prior to the start of the game when he led a coalition of fellow Meridian nobility against the former King because of atrocities against his own people so vile they caused his name to be stricken from all records. King Anduin and his son prince Phillip have led their people to years of peace and plenty. They have expanded the council of foreign diplomats to include not just an ambassador from the Dwarves and Elves, but in recent years from the Helgathi Caliban, and even an envoy from the Crimson King; A juvenile red dragon known as the Duke of Gly.

The capital city is easily defensible, difficult to assault by land or sea. It is a major hub for trade due to it's deep harbor sheltered on three sides by towering cliffs, and permissive attitudes towards monstrous races. As long as you adhere to the laws of the city, any race is welcome.



The Helgathi Horde:

In the demon infested forests to the north are the remnants of the former Helgathi Empire, fearsome mounted nomads who are in a centuries long two front war with Meridia to the south of them, and the demonic invasion force to the north of them. Only being scary tough bastards ha let them survive this long. Especially tragic is how far the Helgathi have fallen, 700 years prior to the start of the campaign they ruled and empire that showed no signs of slowing down and was poised to unify the entire continent.

They owed this rapid expansion to a method they discovered to permanently bind summoned Devils into service. Given the mutable and alien nature of the summoned devils they were utilized for everything from carrying messages, to serving as weapons and armor for the military. Unfortunately for the Helgathi, the devils were somehow freed from the control of their summoners, the exact details are lost to history. What is known is that the entire empire collapsed almost literally over-night, as tens of thousands of previously bound devils turned on their masters.

The backlash from this has been significant, in Helgath itself arcane magic, which was instrumental in summoning of the Devils, is now viewed as so heinous and vile that anyone found using it is put to death immediately. The Helgathi themselves have regressed from an advanced Magistocracy to shamanistic nomads who rely on strength of arms and divine magic to combat the demon horde. In recent years the splintered tribes have been united under the banner of a new war leader, or Caliban. The new Caliban is said to be invincible in battle, that he was born of giants and raised by the mother of all Wolves. These rumors are for the most part true.

The Dragon:
At the southern tip of the mountain range inhabited by the dwarves there lies an active volcano. The caldera of this volcano is the throne room for the self appointed Crimson King, Master of all He Surveys, Sire of Many, Doom of Runehearth, the great and terrible Red Dragon. His name is unknown since there's no one he would bother telling it to, so everyone refers to him as the Crimson King, he is the reason why half dragons and draconic people are so common. The Crimson King has been building his strength and spreading his bloodlines power for centuries, he is served by an army of kobolds who toil endlessly in the bowels of the volcano, expanding his holdings, harvesting the wealth of the mountain to arm his legions. It is said the Crimson King traded his left eye to the Titans in exchange for knowledge of the moment of his death. Two things are certain, he is likely the single most powerful being in the world barring the Titans themselves, and his lust for power and control cannot be sated.

The Pirates:
As the Helgathi plague the lands, and the Crimson King terrorizes the skies, so do the pirates of Gasha Doomgaze bring misery to the seas. With a fleet of ships crewed by the undead, led by three Lieutenants of terrifying ability and fearsome reputation, the pirates that sail under Doomgaze's banner feared around the world for their savagery and cruelty.

Firstly there is the undead minotaur Salt-beard, an intelligent zombie, his undead flesh reinforced with with bars of adamantine driven thru them, causing him to bristle with metallic spines, and be far more resistant to damage than a normal zombie, he wades into battle with a coterie of bedraggled children chained to his belt, using them as living shields. His ship is a an abomination called the Gates of Hell, it can barely be called a ship, it is a hulking mass of necrotic tissue the size of a small island, it exudes a pitch black miasma that poisons the water and air around it, draining the vitality of the living while bolstering the undead.

Then we have the Mad Aquatic Ghast, Smiling Jack, most commonly known as the Smiler, a ghoul who sliced off his own jaw and replaced it with a bear trap so he'd never be without a grin. He is the captain of the Murder of Crows, a slender hulled ship with black sails, one of the fastest ships on the seas. His preffered method of execution is to paralyze an opponent then toss them into the sea to watch them drown, not the most brutal of the 3, but dead is dead, and drowning is a bad way to go.

And last but most certainly not least, we have the Bloody Miss, the only one of the three who is still alive. A tall and beautiful woman with hair the color of an open flame, she captains the Red Lily and her ship is crewed entirely by living female pirates, barring a small retainer of skeletons to man the oars.
Bloody Miss is a cannibal and her preferred meal is the flesh of the Nobility. She is the only captain who will ransom her victims, her game is to eat a piece of a hostage every week until the ransom is paid, she prefers to eat whatever they value most. A great beauty will have her nose and lips taken first, a famed swordsman will lose the fingers of his sword hand, etc... She enjoys competitions of cruelty with her Fey lover, Petalthorn and wins them more often than not. She remains the only living pirate Liutenant in the fleet because no one has been able to best her in combat yet, when she dies she will be revived as a free willed undead by the master of the fleet, Doomgaze.


The Party:

Draconic Elven Swordsage: Olan ibn Marduk. A elven swordsage who's family was wiped out by a raid on their settlement by Salt-Beard and his undead crew. Survivors were dragged away, never to be seen again, including his dear childhood friend Chauncey Fauntleroy. Swearing vengeance on the pirates he studied to be a master of elven sword-magic. Re-united with his paternal grandfather who ran the school he studied at and inducted into the elven secret police, the Order of the Silver Pentacle. He is possibly the world's least covert secret agent.

Draconic half orc Duskblade: Yarg Barthal. A badass murder machine that runs on hate and grain alchohol. Yarg Barthal is mad as a hatter. His preferred outfit is a chain mail bikini and thigh high stilettos. his preferred weapon is anything he can get his hands on. His mind shattered when his research into the Far-Plane yielded unexpected results. His ritual worked, though it caused the death's of his 3 assistants, they were devoured whole by the misshapen abomination that answered their call.

It was not the deaths of his friends that broke Yarg however; he had seen and been the cause of much death and grisly slaughter in his years as an adventuring scholar.

No, it was the terrible secrets that spilled forth from the wall of screaming and gnashing mouths adorning the Beasts flesh that drove him mad.It whispered the true history of the world to him, it told him of the darkness inside him, it screamed prophecy and wept of his failures in the voice of everyone he had ever loved. When the ritual abated and the Beast squeezed it's loathsome bulk back into it's own realm, it left the the shattered remains of Yarg weeping in rage and screaming with laughter behind it.

Half Giant Psion Kineticist: Cast, Son of Cant, Son of Can. One of over 100 children sired by his father Cant; a legendary fire giant hedonist during his most epic sexual walkabout. Still spoken of in hushed whispers among the villages, townships, fortresses, outposts and city states he ravaged. A hard drinking rogue brew-meister in search of the ultimate liquor. His beverage of choice is Stank, a vile liquid that's only legal use is as an enhanced interrogation tool. A 48 hour session of binge drinking Stank caused his mind to to awaken to it's psionic potential. Wielding a spiked chain, his preferred weapon is his own body, levitated over an enemy and turned into a 300lb meat-based projectile, then using recall agony to force the enemy to think about what just happened.

Elan Psychic Rogue: Saxton. Known only by his given name Saxton is a to all appearances a handsome human male in his early 20's with fiery red hair. Unbeknownst to the party he is in a fact a "Hand" for his psionic collective. Tasked with entering the outside world and gathering new sensory information to enrich the collective's Quintessence pool. (In this game I use quintessence as the physical form of mental energy when it's in a stable state, nigh impossible to destroy. It appears as a gravity defying liquid silver) He wields his psionic ability to great effect, probably the most tactically minded player of the group. His weapon of choice is a crossbow, and cleverly applied psychic constructs. His sole goals in life are the acquisition of power, knowledge and money.

Rules used are 3.5 E6 .
max hp per hit die,
skill consolidation ala Pathfinder,
two flaws allowed at creation and 1 trait,
32 point buy, any race/class/book is allowed as long as its not too at odds with the setting.
Initiative is rolled as a group, party used the average between highest and lowest roll rounded up ( i like the average because it discourages
people from tanking init and relying on one person to turbo boost the party)
Death occurs at -con rather than -10
If a player can slip an infinite damage loop past me it works once before the raw energies unleashed blast their character out of existence.
Characters gain 1 point to 2 different stats at level 3 and 6.
A custom feat chain can be taken for any prestige class to continue collecting it's features up to a total character level of 8.
Spell slots higher than 3 exist for the purposes of metamagic, but spells of 4th and higher simply cannot be accessed by mortal casters without using
a ritual.
Prestige classes that allow emulation of 4th level or higher magic are handled on a case by case basis.
General rule is don't try to outshine anyone else at their shtick, don't try to be a one man adventuring party.
I tune my fights hard and expect teamwork out of the players to win.

[EisenKreutzer]

As a chronic worldbuilder, I have to commend you on your world! That was an awesome read!

I'm looking forward to this campaign journal.

[Monkeyknuckles]

The First Session
Getting the Band together, Being right for the wrong reasons, and assaulting clergy for fun and profit.


So the game starts with all players being required to have a reason to be in the town of Nelsborg. A prosperous farming village located on the northern edge of elven territory by the border with Helgath. Also they had to be at the same Inn. Sometimes the most well worn tropes are the best tropes. The party decided as follows with a bit of DM assistance: Olan the Swordsage is in town on business for the Silver Pentacle, following up on rumors of a shipment of demonic weaponry smuggled out of Helgath and intended for use by the more reckless members of the criminal underworld. Saxton the Elan is in town because it was the next stop on his world spanning travels on behalf of the collective. Cast, son of Cant is in town in search of a particularly rare ingredient to add to the next batch of Stank to improve it's chew-ability and potency. And Yarg Barthal the mad Duskblade is in town tracking down his "cheating whore of a wife's lover".

So the players are in position, the Inn is empty this early in the morning except for the players. Into the inn walk several hooded and robed figures, most likely monks or holy men from the local congregation. Two robed figures approach the bartender, a halfling, and proceed to grab him by the lapels and stuff him into a bag as the two robed figures by the exit produce heavy crossbows and level them at the common room. The leader of the robed figures shouts loudly that no one is in danger if they stay put, that the halfling is a dangerous heretic and they are taking him to the authorities. Oh and if anyone moves they are getting the business end of a crossbow bolt through the heart. The men begin walking out of the tavern and the players begin discussing what they're each doing.

The Swordsage, Olan decides out loud "Screw these guys, I have a 19 ac! I rush the nearest one to me and hit him with some of that top shelf sword magic!" Taking action and stopping this obvious kidnapping attempt is the consensus among the Psion, who hopes a grateful barkeep will cut him a deal on brewing suplies and the Psychic rogue who figures a nice fight is as a good a start as any to his quest to experience new events for the collective. Yarg Barthal however decides to bury his face in his hands and begins crying over how this kidnapping is just like his honeymoon all over again, but with less bloodshed.

So the swordsage takes a step toward the leader of the robed figures as he hears the deep thunk of a heavy crossbow loosing at close range and goes crashing to the floor at -1 hp as the cultist rocks his world with a non confirmed crit and max damage on the dice. This is the first in a long line of hilarious lucky streaks involving the players, level 1 enemies, and crossbows :D. Asked if he has anything important to say before he loses consciousness, the swordsage replies" Yeah **** that guy, he better to pray to whatever heathen dirt-god he worships that someone else kills him before I get back on my feet! I'm going to go elven mafia on his ass! Knee caps and pliers, son." Informed that that is an awful lot to say as he falls to the ground, he points out that Elven is a very terse language, most of the meaning is contextual. Fair enough.

The psion fairs much better as he uses his massive half giant strength score to beat the leader unconscious with one blow from the table he picked up. Spit, teeth and black robes go flying through the air as he demolishes the mans face with the heavy oak table. The other crossbowman fires at him and misses, burying a bolt in the table he's holding instead. Sensing that the fight is turning against them the kidnapper holding the squirming bag with the halfling barkeep in it throws the bag at the nearest person to tangle them up and bolts for the door. Unfortunately the nearest person happens to be a hysterically sobbing half orc who takes none too kindly to being interrupted in his misery.I inform him that he can easily free the halfling at this point if he wishes. He instead puts his hand on the squirming bag, whispers under his breath "summer camp..." and proceeds to wield it as an improvised club, beating the cultist to death with the (shortly after starting) unconscious halfling bartender.

The psychic rogue proceeds to cast entagling ectoplasm on the two crossbowmen by the door, rooting them firmly to the floor as a ropes of sticky goo appear from nowhere and lock them in place. the psion drops the first one with a mental assault as the other is killed outright from full hp by a ballistic halfling in a sack fired by the freakishly strong half orc dusk-blade who is howling for the cultists to show him their thumbs as proof of sentience.

With combat ended the group of strangers realize that the guards should be coming any moment, and if the bartender is dead and the cultists blame them its their word vs the cultists as to what went down, and they don't exactly look trustworthy. So as a snap decision the psychic rogue slits the throats of the unconscious cultists (chalking it up to a new life experience) and gets everyone to agree that the cultists savagely assaulted the halfling once he was bagged up. In the interest of remaining out of prison the rest of the group agrees, and bound by a shared secret await the arrival of the guardsmen they hear pounding up to the door.

The guards burst in and quickly take the in the scene. They rush the halfling and swordsage to the local church for healing, and rush the players tot he jailhouse for processing and questioning. The players go along with this, and are able to gather some information on the local goings on from the guardsmen. It turns out there have been a rash of disappearances lately, but this is the first time the kidnappers have been brazen enough to operate in broad daylight. The Guardsmen haven't turned up any leads and enlist the players help in solving the disappearances. The swordsage, recently returned from the healer suggests they check the bodies of the cultists for clues. The party agrees and the guardsmen allow them to do so.

Finding a strange silver icon on a chain around the neck of the leader, the party attempts knowledge checks to decipher what it us. Their best guess is that it seems to have religious significance but they don't recognize it as belonging to any known Titans. The Rogue thinks maybe the local priest can help them out. Everyone agrees that this is a solid course of action and they make their way to the local church, dedicated to Duniah the Titan of Fertility and Harvest. Making their way inside the building they see a service is being conducted; the priest leading the flock in a prayer. I ask them what they're doing while they wait for the service to end.

The rogue decides to look around the room for other exits and possible valuables, the Psion pours himself a shot of Stank, the Swordsage wishes his chest didn't hurt so badly and wonders if the healers missed some splinters. And Yarg Barthal decides he's had enough of waiting, and that the holy symbol on the cultists must mean the priest is leading the bad guys. So he grabs the shallow bronze bowl of holy water by the door, dumps it on the floor and heaves it like a discus straight into the stomach of the priest, who is by the way, in mid prayer with his eyes closed. Incidentally the Dusk-Blade has a massive strength score and the Brutal Throw feat, so he hits like a truck and has the same chance to hit with thrown weapons as he does in melee, which is very high. So he crits the piss out of the priest, folding him in half and dropping him with a strangled squeal of agony in mid sentence.

There's a moment here when you could hear a pin drop at the table as the ENTIRE congregation turns in unison to stare in shocked outrage at this psycho who just assaulted their holy man. The entire party takes a big step away from Yarg and makes it obvious they aren't with him. Yarg looks around and replies, "What?" as the entire swarming mass of pissed of townspeople mob him and begin kicking him into oblivion. He attempts to defend himself by sharting into his hands and wafting it at the mob, while he does succeed in making a few faint the rest pummel him unconscious.

Yarg spends the next day in the stocks, ending with a nice punitive horse-whipping and a fine. The guards are so freaked out by his reaction to the whipping; "Yes! Yes! Now pour hot wax on my cankles!" that they really don't put their all into it. Meanwhile the party has met up with the Priest now that he can walk again, albeit with great pain. While chatting with him about the strange holy symbol they found the Swordsage makes a spot check at a rather high degree of success and notices that this guy has grease paint on: He's wearing a disguise.

Mayhem ensues as he tries to Scooby-doo the priest by grabbing at his face and yelling "Impostor!" The party is confused, the priest is panicked and dives into a nearby room and locks the door. Explaining himself as he runs over and throws a shoulder at the door only to bounce off painfully, turns out they have pretty well made doors in this church. As the party proceeds to fail over and again at bashing down this door (thankfully the acolytes aren't around and the church was empty so no one knows they're trying to break down the head priests door) Yarg Comes walking back into the church from the street whistling Beast of Burden and twirling a Vaseline-covered bullwhip.

The party is naturally reluctant to allow him back into the group, but after he head buts the door off its hinges in one attempt, they decide his muscle would be handy for at least a little while. Contingent on not assaulting anymore clergy of course, which leads to this exchange "No attacking priests like that any more!" "Gotcha no attacking them with holy water bowls *winks and gives them the finger guns* "No damn it, no attacking them at all!" "Well now you're being a little silly, I was right after all, he's bad!" "You didn't know that, you don't get to be right for the wrong reasons!" "I think history will vindicate me, oh by the way he's probably getting away, so less talky more walky." At this point the party agreed that the impostor was probably getting away out a back exit and decided to focus on tracking him down.

So after tossing his room they find a number of incriminating items, most damning being an identical holy/unholy symbol to the one they found on the cultist, but plated gold instead of silver, and a letter in the fireplace that hadn't burned up completely, the fragment remaining read;" ..eapons shipment cannot be late, much depends...Bree is ripe and will...Blood will triumph over steel, remain loyal and burn this after reading."

So the players realize this guy is working with the kidnappers, they find no other doors or windows, and decide to search for hidden doors. They succeed, finding a crawl space behind the door that leads to a ladder heading down between the meeting place of three walls. Expecting an ambush at the bottom, the swordsage decides to go first since he has the highest AC, they wind up in a root cellar beneath the temple with the musky smell of people kept in tight quarters for a prolonged period of time assailing their nostrils. They proceed cautiously through several adjoining storage rooms before finding themselves in a very large room that has wagons parked at the back by a pair of double barn doors. the wagons have miserable looking people gagged and bound stacked in them like flapjacks. Robed and hooded figures are hitching horses and piling hay on top of the captives.

As the party enters the room an alarm goes up among the hooded figures as they're spotted. Crossbow bolts come flying their way and the party quickly find themselves hunkering for cover behind barrels and crates in the large cellar as they engage a pitched battle against the cultists.Trading spells and arrows with each other. To break the stalemate the swordsage fearlessly charges down the center, bolts fly harmlessly past him as he dodges around the deadly missiles . As he bolts past an alcove in the wall a ****-off big snake sneak attacks him and wrecks his ****, latching onto his throat and dragging him down with a strangled scream. The party breaks cover to save him, eating a barrage of crossbow bolts and getting bum rushed by suicidal fanatics who hit surprisingly hard for levels 1 mooks. They kill the snake, finish the cultists, and stabilize the swordsage. The fight seems over when they see a man in the high priests robes leap onto one of the draft horses, slice its tethers and start riding off out of the cellar with an oddly shaped bundle on his back.

The Psychic rogue comes through big time hurling an entangling ectoplasm at the horse, sticking it down and throwing it's rider. Springing to his feet, the rider looks terrified, then composes himself and unwraps the bundle, drawing a bizarre sword from it, made of a chitinous red substance, its blade appears to be made of serrated teeth, and at the crossroad of the hilt and blade a single glaring, slitted yellow eye rolls around wildly. As he grabs the blade he shrieks "Get out! I don't want this! I didn't know it would..aaaargh!" His body goes slack and he seems to be suspended from the hand holding the sword.

The players don't get much time to process this development, as the blade of the demonic looking sword flares up and sends a bolt of magical fire hurtling into them. Scrambling to find cover while returning fire the party finds itself badly outgunned, with the swordsage bleeding out on the floor. The Psion Cast is able to distract the baddie while the Psychic Rogue snuck around behind the wagons to ambush . Meanwhile the swordsage stabilizes on his own and Yarg asks if he can use arcane channeling through the whip. I figure that seems reasonable, so he channels a shocking grasp through the whip only to discover that the demonic sword is making it's wielder immune to low level magic, as his shocking grasp dissipates harmlessly, doing only minor physical damage.

However Saxton, the psychic rogue pops out from behind a nearby wagon and proceeds to sneak attack the balls off the bad guy, who was still suffering a fair amount of residual damage from the holy water bowl-discus of the previous day. Turns out the guy was a rogue/wizard and couldn't magically heal himself. He collapses in a heap from his combined wounds, the monstrous sword gives one last vicious snarl before it goes dormant, with no host to draw life energy from, it closes it's glaring demonic eye and sleeps once more. Yarg declares that this is the man he came here to kill, for his wife's honor. Everyone was too bedraggled to argue.

The Swordsage Olan, having been briefed on the nature of these demonic weapons was able to secure it without allowing it to latch onto him as a host.
His plan was to deliver it back to headquarters for study ASAP. The party freed the hostages being held on the wagons and after speaking with them learned that the Impostor Priest had murdered the real priest in front of them and taken his place weeks ago, maintaining the charade through a mix of mundane skill and magic. Using his position to lure people to secluded places and then having his men kidnap them, and to deflect suspicion. They didn't know where they were being taken to from the churches basement but the cultists seemed to be suggesting they were going to used in some from of important ritual.

The Party determined to investigate and stop this cult. The best lead seemed to be to follow up on the letter fragment from the fireplace, Bree is a human settlement on the border between Meridia and the Crimson King's domain, at least a month of travel to the south and east by foot, but only a couple weeks by ship. the Swordsage resolved to hire a ship at the first port he could find and make haste to Bree. If these kinds of weapons were being smuggled out of Helgath in any quantity then it could spell disaster. Cast son of Cant would come as well, having heard good things about the breweries in Meridia and being eager to test his liver against them. Saxton would come as well, eager to experience more of the world for his Elan collective. Yarg Barthal, on being informed that the men of Meridia had penises, declared that he would probably find his wife there and decided to come along as well.

The party engaged in a random encounter or two on the way to a port town, and booked passage to a port nearest Bree with the aid of a sizable monetary reward given them by the grateful townsfolk they'd rescued.