Campaign

DL Campaign Session 6

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Characters 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
  • Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.
  • Aetos – Magic-user 1 – An Urr experimenter in the arcane. 
  • Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A Dervish gentleman posing as a trader, known for dark whispers. 
  • Chiron – Magic-user 1 – Come to expand his knowledge. 
  • Vahan – Fighter 1 – Deep voiced and broad shouldered. 
  • Maximus – Paladin 1 – Oath, “I dedicate myself and my actions to Phoebus. No matter the cost, I will fight for a world guided by law that is free of corruption.”

Retainers 

  • Antifus – Ranger 1 – currently wounded. 
  • Niarchos – Paladin 1 
  • Mamercus – Fighter 1 – master of the shield. 
  • Sharif – Thief 1 – cunning and wry. 
  • Aegon – man at arms – Vahans squire. 

The party started the session in quite a sticky situation, the survivors of the weasel assault were terribly lost in the middle of night. With some quick thinking from Malik the party orientated themselves using the two moons. They rode north but weren’t clear on where exactly they were. By sunrise they came across the old mine they had discovered. From there they rode back to Rubble Diamond. 

The party met up with the new characters, Chiron and Maximus. Jassan was reunited with the party as well. They had completed their mission to assassinate the wizard in Grand Alum, but unfortunately the character who had made contract was dead and hadn’t shared information about the patron. 

Oh well, they took Jassan’s advice and decided to deliver the magic sword of Gunther Wyrmslayer to Lord Blanbot who was attempting to bring this hex under his rulership. As the party began to prepare their horses, the Cleric of Ariens temple, Hel, came out to offer them his blessing. Hel wanted the sword to remain in Rubble Diamond, but the cunning tongue of Jassan had convinced the towns elders to release it to Blanbot so he might kill the dragon in the south. Hel was’t totally happy with this. 

As Hel bid Jassan farewell he muttered some magic words, casting a spell. His face changed instantly and he retreated to his temple whistling for his men to gather. Jassan inferred that the man had cast detect alignment on him, and was now pretty panicked. I wonder why? The party quickly rode off with the sword whilst Hel’s men took out their nags prepared to give chase. 

The party managed to evaded the fighters of Hel with a 70% chance, and then rode to the Villa of Blanbot. This was the first time they had encountered this subhex. There was a white walled villa atop a hill, fairly new in construction. As they approached a blue skinned herald rode out to meet them. The Urr herald was named Maloni and he began questioning the party. This wasn’t exactly going smoothly, as the party said they were arriving on behalf of Rubble Diamond, the same town that had been resisting Blanbots rule. 

Just as the diplomacy was getting going, and the PCs were explaining how they wanted to offer the sword to the lord, in the distance fifteen men riding horses were fast approaching. What happened next was pretty chaotic; Maloni blew a horn to prepare the villas defences. The attackers charged into firing distance with their short bows. Maloni began to doubt the party’s intent, and then Chiron tried to cast Charm Person on Maloni. This went terribly, as the herald won the initiative and managed to flee back to the villa and out of the magic-users spell range. 

The herald then initiated a volley of arrows at the party by blowing a horn. Simultaneously the attacking riders from Rubble Diamond were just coming into firing range. It looked pretty dire if they stayed around, so the Party fled, and with some lucky rolls were able to evade again. 

Riding as fast as they could they went north, but they were aware they were leaving a large trail of hoofs behind them. They spent an hour trying to find somewhere to hide, but only found a small woodland parted by a brook. This searching and backtracking around the hex allowed the stalkers to find them when they passed their search roll. 

The party heard the fifteen riders approaching from outside the wood. For some reason the party decided to dismount and allow them to come. Jassan hid the sword in the babbling brook. 

The riders approached, ready for a fight, bows at the ready. But the party surrendered immediately. They were instructed to lay on their bellies. All did this except for Cleitus, who, for some reason, refused to lay down, even after many warnings. He was then peppered with arrows and was sprawled out dead upon the ground. 

The warriors of Rubble Diamond then went through all the parties gear, but couldn’t find the magic sword. They pilfered all the gold they could find though, and why shouldn’t they keep it? There were some back-and-forths with these men, but ultimately the warriors decided to bring the party back to Hel as captives. They bound the PCs hands, tied them together into a chain gang, and began slowly walking them towards the South-West. 

This was when the party had a stroke of luck, their first in the session. Since their savage crimes against the barbarians of Grand Alum during the previous session, I had added those same barbarians to wandering monster tables of the grass hexes. Well, after two hours of walking they crossed into a new hex and with a roll of the dice the barbarians were summoned to try and get their revenge.  

Seven barbarians mounted on horses and carrying short bows crested a hill to the South, silhouetted by the sun they gave out a terrible war cry and began raining arrows down. 

There was a brief firefight between the mounted bowmen of Rubble Diamond and the barbarians, with large casualties on either side. Eventual morale checks when both fell under half strength caused both the fighters and barbarians to flee on the same turn. In all six fighters died and five barbarians died in the forty second skirmish. 

The party had no gold, no gear, but they were alive at least. Quite lucky considering. They marched to the Villa of Blanbot and begged to be taken in. There was a brief audience with the lord before the end of the session. They have agreed to find the sword, give it to him, and then quest for him to prove their loyalty. 

We’ll see what happens next, the situation in this hex is becoming more and more chaotic. Great fun. 

Judges note : riding horses and short bows are bloody amazing in the wilderness. Remember that all distances are measured in yards in the wild. Let the arrows rain. I approve this message. 

Also posted at Dragonsfoot.

DL Campaign Session 5

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Player Characters 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
  • Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.
  • Aetos – Magic-user 1 – An Urr experimenter in the arcane. 
  • Eos – Assassin 1 – a scrappy killer in the making. 

Retainers 

  • Antifus – Ranger 1 – a wise walker of the wild.
  • Brutus the wardog.
  • Mamercus – fighter 1 – likes a drink, likes a fight, in for a penny, in for a pound. 
  • Dill – man-at-arms – wild red haired warrior. 

The night was long and cold after the parties return to Rubble Diamond. Many things occurred during the downtime period between games, things that shall remain secret. The party, led by Jassan, had a meeting with the elders of the village. It was decided that the sword of Gunther Wyrmslayer should be presented to Lord Blanbot in the north. Jassan and Aetos spent the evening in the luxuriant villa of ruling merchant and factory owner Bianor. They emerged in the morning looking rather worse for ware, and not uttering a word of what occurred within. 

The party discussed what they would do next. Jassan would stay behind with the sword, while Eos proposed the party help him with with a profitable job. Eos had been given a contract to assassinate a wizard in Grand Alum and retrieve his spell book. For this he would gain 720 gp. The person offering this work was the wizard’s rival, both were apparently apprentices to a great sorcerer. It seemed like good coin for easy work. All remaining PCs agreed to tag along and split the reward, all except Niarchos the paladin, who Malik though it wise not to bring on this adventure. Very wise too, for he’d definitely disagree with such bloody business. 

The horses were strapped with their bridles, mounted, and whipped towards the east. Off they went again, south of the vineyard of Pralan the cyclops. Whilst traversing this area they witnessed the jungle snap back as a figure lunged into the long grass. Behind this dark shadow several armed men carrying swords and longbows darted into the grass. Being mounted and aware of an ambush the party peeled off to the north as quickly as possible. As they fled, the long grass parted and a great panther came darting after them. Looking over his shoulder Aetos saw a barbaric man riding the great cat, calling after them and lashing a whip. The horses were far to fast for this lithe beast and they made away. Some hours later they were in the small village of Grand Alum. 

They arrived at the tavern and paid for a nights stay. It was still early, only around ten in the morning. The PCs decided to gather some rumours. Who was this wizard and where was he staying? They soon learned that he was staying in the very inn they now stood, and apparently guarded by seven barbarians. 

The party lingered in the bar around for quite a few hours, hoping to see if the wizard would emerge. Finally the barbarian guards arrived, led by a warrior wearing blue scale mail. The barbarians all floundered to celebrate and toast their leader, a broad shouldered Thalazian named Cratus. The barbarians spent hours drinking, gambling and bantering. Eventually their leader received a lovely meal of roasted quail and honied parsnips. He taste tested the meal for poison and took it upstairs to his ‘master.’ 

The steel was hot! The party finally found their opportunity to strike at the wizard. Cleitus developed a cunning plan. He ordered the barbarians several rounds of wine. After the excessive amount they’d already consumed, several of them began to pass out or vomit. 

Malik and Antifus went upstairs to see what room the wizard might be in, followed by Eos. Soon Cratus came out of a door carrying the dirty tray, and locked it behind him. There was an intense stare down in the hallway between the two Thalazians, but Cratus soon went back downstairs. Eos then tried to pick the lock to the wizards room, but failed. 

Back in the bar the barbarians were a drunken wreck and decided to go to bed. Cratus descended the stairs and Cleitus once again tried his tactic of plying alcohol to his victim. After a couple of rounds of wine Cratus was vomiting through a window, just in time for Eos to come back downstairs and lift the keys from him. 

The stumbling warrior finally decided to go back upstairs to hit the hay. Alas, they heard his cries when he couldn’t find his key chain and began banging on the barbarians door to let him in. Cleitus and Eos ran upstairs to see what the kerfuffle was about. Cratus and two barbarians, drunk and raging, marched off to find their keys. Cleitus figured this was the perfect time to cast his sleep scroll. All three men hit the floor like wet mops. 

This initiated a serious conversation between the characters. Should they drag these men into their room and slit their throats? Could they do that? No, no, they would let them sleep, and instead kill the wizard and flee. 

Using the key Eos opened the door to the wizards room as quietly as he could. Inside a hunched figure worked at a desk, and peering over him was a two-foot tall genderless creature. Eos snuck into the room, grabbed the wizard and quickly slit his throat. Blood pumped all over the assassin, but he sealed his victims mouth to prevent any scream. As soon as the wizard died, the strange grey man atop the table melted like a candle and erupted into flames. Malik and Cleitus rushed into the room and collected the papers strewn about the table. 

They searched but couldn’t find a spell book. After patting down the corpse they felt a mass in the chest. They parted the wizards tunic and saw a terrible tiny grey man growing out of the corpses chest. It clutched the spell book tightly. They snapped off its terrible little arms and collected the book. 

“What the hell do we do now?” Two of the party were covered in blood, there was a weird mutated corpse with its throat slit, and a bizarre melted man on the table. They came up with a plan in record time. They’d frame Cratus, the man paid to guard the wizard. They dragged the sleeping warrior into the room and drooped him over the bloody body, knife in hand. Then they washed up as best they could and fled the inn; though not before Cleitus decided to ‘gift’ Silas the inn-keep twenty gold pieces. 

“We were never here.”

They mounted their horse and rode into the night, a job well done. Alas, they rode so hard they totally lost their bearings. After an hour of riding too and fro they found themselves at a woodland they didn’t recognise. A perfect place to camp? Apparently so. The party set up a series of watches and untethered their bed rolls. 

In the dead of night, two moons gibbous overhead, a terrible mewling was heard by Eos. It was like a barking or shrieking, but definitely not from the mouth of a dog. Eos lit a torch and peered into the wood’s yawning mouth. Eight needle lined maws came rushing out at him. Giant weasels! Brutus the wardog began howling and the party awoke in panic. Dill, the recent hire, ran headlong into the fray but was instantly torn apart by three of the fiends. Confused and dazed the party darted around the campsite swinging at the creatures. The weasels lunged and snapped at their quarry. One was felled, then another, but Eos had one leap on his face slash his eyes.  Then Antifus was surrounded and set upon. Brutus the hound slew one of them, just for another to leap on his haunches and tear out his throat. Defeat seemed imminent, but finally another weasel was crushed below a blade. The remaining creatures fled.

The party started to regroup, wrapping a bandage around Antifus and calculated their losses. 

Dead – Brutus the wardog, Dill, Eos. 

What will they do next? 

Also posted at Dragonsfoot

DL Campaign Session 4

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Characters 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
  • Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A Dervish gentleman posing as a trader, known for dark whispers. 
  • Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.
  • Aetos – Magic-user 1 – An Urr experimenter in the arcane. 

Retainers. 

  • Antifus – Ranger 1 – wise walker of the wild.
  • Niarchos – Paladin 1 – his oath, “To aid as much as he can those who protect the weak and fight against the arrogant who try to rule the world by violence and cunning”
  • Sharif – normal human – cunning dervish man.  
  • Brutus the wardog.

The party had a week of downtime where they gathered rumours and did some magical crafting. I shall try to keep this campaign journal concise, because quite a lot happened. 

Rumours & hooks: 

  • Offered a quest by Hel of the Temple of Arien. To see if rumours were true about a dragon to the south. If evidence was returned, such as dragon dung or scales, a good chest of gold was offered as reward. 
  • The Crimson beastmen of the jungle have been attacking from their grotto of crucifixion. The party were asked to investigate this place, and a reward of 25gp per beastman head was offered. 
  • Eos was approached by a MU named Urian Faqu who wants his rival assassinated. The rival is currently in Grand Alum to the south. He will pay 360gp to have him killed and his ear brought as proof. Double if his spell book is collected. 
  • A peasant came looking for help. Three witches have been harassing him. He was told his land would be blighted unless he paid them. 
  • A glass cutter approached the party, his daughter had recently joined a cult of strange men in white robes who offered her ‘pleasures unbridled.’ He desperately wants her returned. 

The team decided they would explore the Harrow Hills to the south. They recently spent all their gold on riding horses, so they figured they could explore the region a little, mapping its geography along the way. Entering new hexes awards xp. 

They made good headway, riding east, cautiously avoiding the vineyard of Pralan, the cyclops. Riding south they noticed a gorge with wooden shacks, props, and scaffolding built around a large cave. The place looked abandoned. They noted it on their map and rode east. Soon they came into contact with the Red Jungle yet again. In the tree line they saw many figures lurking, hands gripping the trunks of trees, glistening eyes watching them. The party avoided this place and rode south, where they soon came upon a small town of around fifty houses beside a river. There were two notable buildings here, one a large stone building atop a hill plastered with military banners, and the second an ancient bathhouse. 

Many goat herders grazed the lands around this town. The party approached one of them and milked him for information. He was terrified of a dragon he believed attacked his goats during the night. He also told the large building in town was a fencing academy, owned by an old warrior family who’d lived in the area for generations. 

The party rode into this town, which they soon found was named Grand Alum, visiting the local wine-house; Horns A’merry. The party got fleeced by the local drunk, ol’ Ezekiel, who told them all the information they could ever desire to hear; just so long as they filled his cup with wine. He told how he’d seen the dragon eat at least twelve goats in a single bite, with his own two eyes no less. The proprietor of the inn, Silas, gave the party more nuanced information; three months ago several herders went missing in the hills, one returned saying a great beast swooped down and ate his goats. Silas wasn’t sure how true this was. The party then bought a goat to act as bait for the dragon. 

The party went to the river to cross the ford, finding a warrior named Obelix, who was dressed in a shimmering bronze cuirass and plumed helm. He collected a toll of 2 silver pieces per person to cross the ford. He was impressive in stature, but gave bodacious claims about his virility, claiming to have fathered a thousand bastards around these parts. The party paid with haste and made away, giggling about Obelix’s claims that his member was as long and strong as his spear. 

It was time to ascend the Harrow Hills; a tuft of ever rising scrubland. By the early afternoon the party decided they would make camp. Antifus, the party ranger began searching for a good covered to camp. For a few hours they searched for such a place, eventually finding a cave. The cave was around six foot wide and twelve high. Bones were littered around the mouth; some humanoid, some reptilian. The party searched for tracks and found at least five sets of webbed, bipedal tracks coming and going from the cave. Aetos bravely approached the cave mouth to see if it might be safe, but was stung by a shockingly malignant stench emanating from within. He’d never caught whiff of something so wretched before. The party decided to make away. 

The hills were getting steeper as they proceeded, and soon they were no longer able to ride their horses as the grassy hills gave way to more rocky and unstable terrain. 

For a few hours they tread up the ever blackening stones. Until, during an argument on how they might proceed, the party heard a great roar to the north. In a plume of dust a huge dragon took to the air from atop a massive black hill. Some of the party scrambled to hide, others stood in shock, the horses began to panic. Luckily the dragon did not spot them. It circled once, then rose to the clouds, heading north. 

The party decided this was their moment to rush up and gather the evidence they needed to complete their quest. Sharif remained at the foot of the mound with the horses and goat, the rest of the party ascended the hill as quickly and quietly as they could. 

When they reached the summit they saw a huge pit, almost a shoot, descending into the earth. Next to the pit was a wretched hut made of animal skins. The party searched around the hut, and as they did a voice called out from within. 

“So you’ve come to pay homage to the great lord of chaos.” 

A man emerged, a massive Nord man wearing a horned helmet and jaguar hide. He held aloft a massive battleaxe. The party were shocked, but some quick thinking from Jassan saved them from a fight. He lied, saying they were local herders bringing tribute to the dragon. More quick thinking from Jassan convinced the chaotic brute that they needed some dragon faeces to enact a ritual of dedication to this dragon, which they’d learned was named Xoki. This Nord was named Gunnar the Merciless, dedicated worshipper of the dragon, whose plan was to build a temple here and force the region into chains. 

Gunnar returned from the pit after a long while, during which time the party roasted the goat for him. They ate, and drank, and Gunnar watched as they caked themselves in dragon faeces, booming with laughter. Soon a roar came echoing over the bleak hills as night descended. 

“The lord returns, soon you shall witness his great leathery wings, and his awesome plumes of poison.” 

Cleitus, panicked, cast charm person on Gunnar. The spell worked, and he convinced Gunnar to not tell the dragon he’d ever seen them. The party ran off as quick as they could, but in the dark they only made it a mile or so before stopping, forced to make camp by the poor light. 

In the night a strange man approached the camp and warned Aetos to leave this place. They didn’t take this advice however and camped throughout the night. In the morning they rode downhill towards the jungle and began traversing it on their horses, where they could. 

They had several encounters in the jungle, most of which they managed to avoid. The first was the ruin of an ancient city. The second was a huge tower. The third was a wall of massive clinging lily plants. Finally they came across a massive circle cut out the jungle. The space was around 600 yards wide, and in the centre there was a great rune. Jassan recognised the script to be close to djinn, it might spell trap or prison. He warned the party to keep well away, but then a shimmering light in the circle began entrancing all the characters except Niarchos, the paladin. The mesmerised characters began walking towards the circle, as Niarchos desperately tried to slap his friends free of the spell. He managed to grab and pull a few of his comrades, but it was too little too late. Many of them had already entered the circle. 

A great pillar of flame erupted in the centre of the circle as the entranced walked inside of it. They snapped out of their magical zombification, just in time to witness a massive Efreeti congeal in the flames. It told them its name was Dazmondi, and it had been trapped here by the wizard Callista. It offered a deal, free him by smashing a gem within the wizard’s tower, and he would become their servant for three moon cycles. Jassan, after just giving a lengthy speech on keeping clear from this place, jumped at the opportunity. The deal was struck with a flame upon his chest, which cooled into a sigil-like birthmark. 

The crew then rode to Rubble Diamond to collect their reward. 

Judges note: The party made way through a large number of hexes using their horses. I have marked their route with a red line. The mapping is theirs. Sharif the retainer has levelled to become a thief. The party will now have a little downtime and play by post. 

Also posted at Dragonsfoot

DL Campaign Session 3

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Characters 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
  • Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A Dervish gentleman posing as a trader, known for dark whispers. 
  • Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.
  • Eos – Assassin 1 – a scrappy killer in the making. 

Retainers 

Antiphus – Niarchos – Oeagnus – Brutus the Wardog

Stood in the catacomb, the party’s lantern light reflected off the wet stonework. Echoing to the east were the footsteps of the roguish Jimis and Clovis. Our heroes had a quick debate; should they send Brutus the hound after them? Should they ignore them? Cleitus finally called out to them, apologising for taking their gold, and asking if they wold like to come back. No reply was forthcoming. 

Well, there were more pressing matters at hand. The PCs stood at a cross junction. To the north was an alcove holding a large statue of Gunther, a horn helmed warrior sporting a fine moustache. Unlike the previous statue they’d encountered, this one appeared to have a mechanical mouth. To the south there was a columned archway, beyond which there were rows of pillars and a dais holding a corpse. To the east, the two rouges waited in the dark. The floor at this intersection was slightly raised, clearly mounted on a plate. 

Just then, a voice called out from behind Jassan, “Looks like you need help with a trap.” A dark roughish figure leant against the wall. Introductions were made, he was Eos, a man with a particular set of skills, and the balls to use them. He had been sent by the mercenary guild of Rubble Diamond to collect the blade of Gunther. Since everyone had the same quest, they all decided to work together. 

“Now let me through, and I shall deal with this statue.” Eos bragged. 

Eos leapt over the plate, and clambered up the statue. With his dagger he prised open the mechanical mouth and saw a large pipe within. The party contemplated stuffing a tent into this pipe, but instead, Eos leapt across the plate again southward, through the archway. 

He found himself in a large vaulted chamber lined with two rows of pillars. Each pillar was carved with a dragon rampant, their eyes a glistening diamond. In the south of the chamber was a corpse on a burial altar. A banded chest was in the south-east. Being a keen thief, Eos approached the chest. He worked the lock with his tools, but alas, he was not nimble enough to liberate it’s contents. 

“The body! Check the body!” His comrades encouraged from beyond the safety of the arch. Eos followed these orders, examining the body of Gunther. White, desiccated skin pulled taught over a skeleton. Around its whitened hair was a golden crown of draconian design. Clasped in its bony fists was a fine great-sword carved with runes.

Jassan threw his staff through the arch with a clatter. “Use this to capture the crown!” Then he ordered his forgetful retainer Oeagnus to cross the plate and stuff a tent into the statues mouth. Unfortunately, as soon as the man stepped on the plate there was a shuddering boom as the mechanism was activated. The statue’s mouth winched open, and a flute of flame engulfed Oeagnus. He fell screaming to the floor, horribly burned, horribly perished. The party looked at each other anxiously. 

Eos threw the staff back through the arch, convinced he didn’t need it. He proceeded towards the corpse of Gunther, torch held aloft, and when he was within distance he began to shout back and forth with his new friends. 

“Grab the sword!” 

“Grab the crown!” 

“Chop off it’s head!” 

“Grab both at the same time and run!” 

“Alright, alright!” Eos shouted. Then he proceeded to ram his torch into the corpses face. Perhaps this was his greatest mistake. The corpse opened it’s wretched eyes, totally unfazed by the flames that licked its face. It grimaced and the room became deathly cold as it rose up. 

“Thou are not worthy of the blade!” A voice resonated from within it’s hollow, desiccated chest. Eos leapt back, keeping the torch and dagger pointed towards the creature. It stood. It’s creaking tendons released dust. It dashed forwards with unexpected speed. It struck Eos across the chest sending an ark of blood against the pillars. Eos tumbled backwards, and crawled towards the door, but the creature slashed him again, this time into silence. 

Jassan peered in from beyond the archway, fumbling in his tunic for a pendant. “Back you fiend!” He cried as he held out the symbol of a chameleon-like mask. 

The undead thing glanced at it with hate. “Evil being, you shall perish!” It began to walk towards the cleric. It would have reached him too, if not for brave Niarchos, who sallied forth, unafraid. 

“Gunther, we have come in dire need. Another dragon haunts these lands. The people have need of your sword.” 

The walking corpse considered him for a moment, and asked for him to come closer. Niarchos did as he was asked. The party waited with baited breath as the Thalazian approached the undead warrior. Gunther took the mans hand, which sent a wave of cold through him, turning part of his hair white. 

Finally, the ghostly Gunther closed its eyes, and said, “Aye, I trust ye. Take the sword and go.”

It thrust the sword into the mans hands and threw him out of the archway.

“Go. Slay the dragon, but return my blade within thirty days. Return it, or I shall come for thee.” 

Gunther returned to his dais and entered torpor. A bandage was applied to Eos. Then the party heartily looted the crypt of it’s gem stones and chest. 

As they were exiting, Jassan peered over his shoulder and saw five mummified maidens drifting towards him. They called out for him to dance with them. Jassan definitely did not want to do that, so he held out his symbol. This made the deathly maidens lurch forward in anger. They came close to him, but the wounded Eos stepped in and bowed to the ladies. 

“I shall dance with you, lovely maidens, I am near death myself.” And a lovely dance it was too. A dance of death. As the women swooshed and swooped around him, he felt an overbearing urge to dance with them forever. Somehow he managed to resist this urge, and completed his hellish waltz. He kissed each of the maiden’s on the back of their leathery hands, and they departed. 

Lead by Malik, the party marched out of the tomb. As they reached the entrance chamber Jimis and Clovis launched an attack. They attempted to stab the Malik in the back, but, being far to lithe, he outmanoeuvred them, and within a few seconds the party pounced on them, slaying them. 

A camp was made atop the tumulus. Overnight, Cleitus had a strange encounter with a man like being wearing a loin cloth. Very rustic. 

Then the party marched back to Rubble Diamond, treasure in tow. They handed over the sword to Hel, cleric of the temple of Arien, and received four gold bars as reward. Then they set about recovering from their wounds and spending some of their hard earned treasure. 

Judges note: the surviving retainers have now levelled up to Fighters. A week of downtime will be had in Rubble Diamond. Cleitus will use the time to create a spell scroll. 

also posted at Dragonsfoot.

DL Campaign Session 2

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Characters 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
  • Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A Dervish gentleman posing as a trader, known for dark whispers. 

Introduced later: 

  • Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.

Retainers 

Antiphus – Niarchos – Melanthios – Oeagnus – Brutus the Wardog 

When we last left off, the PCs had just routed the strange crimson-skinned beastmen of the jungle. At the beginning of the session our hero discovered they hadn’t packed enough rations. A serious discussion took place about whether a journey back to town should be made. They agreed that they would continue onwards and try to gather some food. They only found a few measly berries on their march however, much to their chagrin.  

By the late afternoon they had walked many miles. Several acres of vineyard became visible in the distance. A  wooden trellis was ripe with thick vines, and several figures in togas walked amongst the fields, carrying baskets at the hip. A child ran around, which surely indicated the safety of this farm. In the center of the acreage was a domed marble building, twenty or so feet tall, columned and open to the air. The party approached one of the workers, hailing them and asking if they sold rations. 

This figure was a woman named Versuvia, a woman with severe features who told them she was enslaved to the master of this field; the cruel Pralan. She had nothing to sell because she owned nothing. She wore manacles and many scars, her face, tired and withdrawn. She threw them her bushel of grapes, saying she did not care if they stole from her master. The party took these and enquired about this Pralan the cruel. The reply sent shivers down the players’ spines, for Pralan is a Cyclops of giant stature. He sells his wine to the villas of the land. Be wary of his games, Vesuvia told them, for Pralan is as cunning as he is cruel.

The party desired to vacate this area immediately. 

As they walked away, the child they had spied earlier ran over to them and asked if they were going to save her from this awful place. Vesuvia placed a hand upon the child’s shoulder, and told her that these were no heroes. The party marched east so long as there was light. As they set up their camp they saw a tall gorge to the south-east, and high atop its cliffs, something shimmered in the fading light. Perhaps this was the tomb they sought.

The party made their tents and set up a series of watches. Rain lashed heavily on their heads. The fires of Pralan’s camp in the distance glistened like cat eyes. In the morning, they gathered their camp and marched towards the gorge. 

As they grew within five hundred yards of the cliffs, they could see that the glistening light on the cliff wall was coming from a ledge holding a large nest. In the distance they saw a bedraggled man running toward them, he wore leather armour and carried a sack, he was running as fast as his legs could carry him, and kept peering back over his shoulder. Apparently he hadn’t seen the party, so they lay in wait for him behind some trees. When he came into distance the party leap upon him, holding him down as he writhed like a gator in a net. 

“Please, please, let me go.” He begged. His sack contained sixty electrum pieces, which were quickly pilfered. The party intimidated this man, whose name was Octavius. He told them that there was a great treasure in a saddlebag up in the nest, with much of its coinage having scattered down among the many horse carcasses. He begged to be let go, for the sake of his children, but his request was declined. Malik took Octavius’ family sword, drove it into the ground with his hammer, then hog tied Octavius to it. The poor man was to be ‘bait’ for whatever creature nested upon the cliff. Then the PCs proceeded towards the gorge. 

They moved very carefully, very slowly. Once they were close they saw a horse carcass dangling from the edge of the nest, its saddlebags filled with treasure which shimmered in the morning light. The nest was full of man sized figures, chirping furiously. At the base of the cliff there were horse skeletons, and many, many coins. Being quick-footed, the party scrambled for coins, stuffing them into sacks, whilst Malik kept watch. In all, they gathered up three hundred and twenty electrum pieces in twenty minutes. Then Malik heard the booming blows of wings echoing through the chasm. 

“Run!” 

As they did, a huge griffon came swooping over the gorge, its deathly screech close at the party’s nape. 

“There, a crevasse! Into the hole, lads!” The party charged towards the crag, but poor Melanthios was sundered by the claws of that powerful, winged beast. His shrill screams were all that the party heard as they dashed into the crack in the cliff face. There, they waited, hour upon hour, in quaking fear, while the griffon devoured poor Octavius. Finally, the velvet quilt of nightfall shrouded with cover. With two waxing moons high overhead, and a tent worn as a hood, the party crawled away. 

A few miles from the gorge the party ran into an unlikely fellow; Cleitus and his hound Brutus. A Wizard from the west. Introductions were made and they decided they would journey together, towards the tomb of Gunther Wyrmslayer. Tally ho!

After a little march, the party could see a wood, and at the center of this woodland was the dreary crest of a tumulus. Jackpot! So off they went to find a camping spot. 

During the night however, Malik was surprised by a figure who approached the camp. He was tall and dark, with long hair and beard, dressed in a fine white robe. This strange man talked of a temple being established to the east. The temple worships Traz’gozan; a god of flesh and blood, who walks amongst mortals. A place where there would be no need for armour, weapon, or coin, for there would be only pleasure. A place where one could bask amongst beautiful women and make love to the daughters of kings. In the periphery of the camp, Malik saw at least six figures in white robes, wearing black masks. He nodded and agreed that this place sounded marvelous. He woke his companions who also nodded along to the proselytising madman. They gave him some alms and he left in search of would-be believers. Jassan the cleric had never heard of this god Traz’gozan, but noted the pronunciation sounded Infernal. 

“Let us never go east.” 

In the morning, the party marched towards the tumulus, avoiding a large area covered with thick web. The tumulus had no life growing on it at all. In its center was an open doorway. 

They found the tomb’s stone door cracked open. On the ground, a beastman lay face-down in the mud, dead.

The party formed a marching order of (F-B):  Malik + Antifus | Niarchos with lantern | Cleitus + Jassan + Brutus | Oeagnus. 

Down thirty feet of steep steps, there was a square chamber with four pillars in the center. Each pillar had a carving of Gunther Wyrmslayer, his eyes containing lush rubies. There were doorways north, east, and west. Cleitus tested the gemstones with his mirror, finding that they frosted over the glass. The party wouldn’t be touching any of those. Dirty footprints diverged east and west. 

The gang moved east first. To their surprise, they saw a stone chamber with five mummified maidens dancing and swirling in a circle. Although they danced heartily, neither their bodies nor their flowing dresses made even a faint sound. The mummified maidens paid them no heed, and the party quickly moved backwards. 

Next, they went west, found a locked door, and then a chamber with a large marble statue of a sage-like figure. The statue was facing a sarcophagus. Malik and a retainer opened it, and saw within a pale, sunken figure with a radiant gold necklace atop its rotting toga. Jassan moved to the lip of the casket and poured oil all over this corpse. The monster opened its glowing eyes and almost rendedt out his heart with two lightning fast slashes from its razor sharp claws. Malik tried to slam the shaft of his shovel into the creature’s breast, but it caught the blow and laughed mockingly. Niarchos threw a burning torch onto the beast, and it went up in a pillar of flame. Cleitus wrapped Jassan’s wound with a bandage, but he was severely hurt. It would take him days to recover. Malik placed the gold chain around the cleric’s neck as a form of encouragement. 

The party then went into another eastern corridor, and saw a large statue of Gunther. As they proceeded, a plate in the floor was activated, and the statue lunged forward, slashing at Oeagnus with a giant copper blade. It missed by an inch. 

Next, the party moved north. Following the boot tracks they entered a set of double doors. An axe-trap swung down, almost slicing into Malik. Inside, there were two filthy men, napping in their bedrolls. Cleitus talked to them with his beastly dog tight on its chain. He stole their coin, then informed them that they now had the privilege of working for him. 

South it was then, through another set of double-doors where a barren chamber had only a skeleton upon the floor. It pointed ominously towards the doorway. 

Then the party went north, and saw a large pillared tomb, with another statue of Gunther before the entrance. This statue looked different, and after a little inspection it was noted that it had a mechanical mouth. The two dirty thieves used this moment to dash away into the darkness. 

The party remained, pondering whether to chase the two ruffians or enter the pillared archway; for beyond the pillars, high atop a dias, wreathed in a cowl, lay the corpse of Gunter Wyrmslayer, a shining sword upon his breast. 

What will they do next time?

Player’s maps below, including Malik’s dungeon map: 

Malik’s Dungeon Map

DL Campaign Session 1

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During our first session the players and I talked through the feel of the campaign, its assumptions, and some of the better known cities on the map; those that their characters would have heard of. Then they rolled up their characters and decided that they would be travelling into the hinterlands, looking for potential markets to exploit for trade. The players developed an intentionally vague goal of reaching Castle Tokova, a citadel of great antiquity currently governed by a powerful barbarian warrior, Lord Sabe. 

Here are the current characters. (there will be more forthcoming): 

  • Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master. 
  • Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A dervish gentleman posing as a trader. 

Retainers 

Antiphus – Niarchos – Aegon – Melanthios – Oeagnus

The party arrived in hex 074.152 : The eagle coast. They came by ship and made land at a small village named Mitraq. They soon discovered this small fishing village had a partially constructed castle that had been abandoned; its owner had left to fight a hoard of minotaurs to the north, and never returned. They spent an evening at the tavern, the Merry Grape, looking for job prospects and rumours. 

They received several hooks that evening. A local militia man offered to pay them fifty gold pieces from the village treasury to investigate the old barbarian burial mound a few miles outside of town. A strange woman had been seen lurking there and threatening some local goat herders. They also learned that a troupe of bandits had been lingering in a small jungle to the East and had been preying on travellers, capturing many wagons of coin and goods. Finally, they received an offer to guard the caravan of a Dervish merchant Haroon Pasha. He was new to the area, and wanted to travel twenty miles south east to trade with a settlement known as Rubble Diamond. Haroon pay one gold piece a mile for the Party’s protection.

The party decided to take the latter option. They rested at the inn, and set off at first light. They travelled south east and soon passed the crags that held the barbarian burial ground. They could see several cave openings, and all around the area were pikes threaded with ancient skulls. 

They kept moving through the grasslands and four hours later noticed a series of camp fires some miles away to the south, the source obscured by a small woodland. The party decided to ignore this, anxious about the bandits and minotaurs they’d heard about. They carried on, and at nightfall camped around the wagon. 

The next day they continued their journey south east. After the mornings jaunt, the village of Rubble Diamond could be seen in the distance, nestled close to jungle. Jassan noticed something in the distance,  a troupe of heavy horsemen three hundred yards away. The horsemen blew a horn and approached with speed. The party drew their weapons, but the leader of this powerful cavalry unit roared at them to stand down. They were in the lands of ‘Gracious Lord Blanbot.’ Jassan made a good impression with these horsemen, sweet-talking them, and soon learned that they formed the calvary of a local lord who had recently built a magnificent villa in the area, a villa ‘to civilise these barbarian wilds.’ The party were allowed to make their way towards Rubble Diamond, with advice to spend their coin freely, for much of it would return to their lord by way of tax. 

By nightfall the party had arrived at their destination. Their merchant friend moved to unload his cargo and paid them. The party settled in the local inn for drinks and a spot of rumour gathering. 

They learned that Rubble Diamond had a famous glass factory, and also a mercenary guild, which doubled as a temple to Arien, God of War. Whilst drinking with rambunctious mercenaries they learned that Blanbot had come to the area to form a Barony for the city state of Acron Gil Dul. The locals resented this as they had always looked after themselves. They heard that a powerful wizard named Callista, who dwelled in the jungle, was also displeased with the arrival of Blanbot, and had been gathering hosts of red beastmen to him. They heard that several caravan guards had been found skinned and crucified on the outskirts of the Red Jungle. War was brewing. Rumours pointed to a Wyrm being seen in the Harrow Hills to the south. It was this last rumour that led them to a chance meeting with Hel, a grizzled, eye-patch wearing cleric of Arien. Hel gave them a quest to visit the tomb of famed warrior Gunther Wyrmslayer, and to collect his magic sword and return it to the temple. For this, he would pay handsomely. The party agreed, and so after a good nights sleep they set out towards the east. 

By midday they came close to the Red Jungles periphery, a stinking drapery of rotting vines and alien bird calls. Avoiding the jungle the PCs moved around it, eastwards. Whilst walking the grasslands they were caught totally unaware by a band of strange red-skinned beastmen. These creatures darted from behind some trees and encircled them, they were riding strange bipedal reptiles with large flat heads, and huge maws. The riders wore scale mail, but were only around four feet tall. They had red skin, squat heads, and strange tendrils that drooped from their cheeks that resembled fleshy moustaches. 

The creatures yelled at the party in a language they didn’t understand. Finally, they called out in a more guttural language that Jassan did understand. They told him, in an uncouth manner, to drop his arms and surrender or be flayed. 

“Drop weapons so they can flay us and crucify us, I don’t think so.” Malik quipped. 

The party readied blades, but these strange creatures seemed nervous to attack, they squinted and flinched from the suns rays. Their leader, trying to bolster his troops, finally charged the party line. His spear darted forward, but found no purchase. His mount had better luck however, and bit deeply into Malik’s head! The warrior was touched by lady luck, his head was saved by his helmet. The party sliced into this creature, and Aegon cleaved off its head with his battle axe. The rider fell from the saddle and broke his neck on the hard dirt. The other red-skinned beastmen turned and fled, with Aegon chasing after them and arrows loosed into their rumps. Have at you! 

The party had routed the enemy. Malik hacked off the dead beastman’s head, and mounted it atop the large spiked helm that had saved his life. 

Onward to the tomb of Gunther Wyrmslayer! 

The party’s Map:

Also posted at dragons foot.

Xyntillan Expedition Sixteen

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Finale  

Characters 

Lars Kaufman – Halfling 1 – plucky brother of another fallen hero, Tim Kaufman. 

Tordash – Fighter 1 – crossdressing warrior wielding a large pole arm. 

Deanna – Fighter 1 – The brave sister of Ralf Lionsword, out for revenge. 

Athilda – Magic-user 1 – a tall, slim, and bug eyed crone, fifty years of age (a medieval 50). 

The Party were back once again. The dark halls of the mountain castle looming heavy amongst bleak clouds. Onward bound! 

“Let us try something a little different today.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Why don’t we venture around the sea facing side of the castle, towards this garden we’ve heard so much about.” 

The party decided this was a great idea. They moved to the northern shore, and around the thick muddy moat, where they pondered how to best approach the climb around the castles seafront walls. They found a dead tree some forty feet off and collected some large branches, then tied these together with rope. It wasn’t a secure raft, but it would float. They threw this into the lakes waters and tugged it along the shore by a rope. 

The lakeside foundation for the ashlar walls was made of great large rubble boulders. These descended down into the waves, and were covered with thick green algae and seaweed. The journey would be a slippery one, and they would have to tread carefully. This they did, hugging the wall and tugging the little raft along the waters. The lake was still, the summers sun shone brightly, dancing across the waters. It took the party nearly an hour, and they were only half way around the outer wall, they’d traversed around the north west tower. Their legs were feeling fatigued from the careful climbing, and they decided to take a break. Unfortunately they all slipped and fell into the waters except Kaufman, who stood dumbfounded holding the raft’s rope. 

“Sod this, lets swim.” 

So they all held onto their buoyancy aid and kicked towards a parapet wall, above which they saw an ancient Norman style chapel in a garden. 

They climbed onto the stones below the parapet and loosed a grappling hook. Deanna climbed up first, followed by Lars. 

The garden was choked with dense thicket and angry looking thorn bushes. In the bush directly in front of Deanna there was a patch of the thicket that was dead and blackened, a small piece of metal seemed to be pointing upwards from it. Lars climbed up behind her.

Paranoid, Lars loosed an arrow at the shape in the dead brush, and heard a metallic ting as his arrow hit something. This was out interesting. Athilda and Thodash climbed up the rope next. Then, in the bush, a guttural snarling was heard, then a clucking sound. 

“Get behind me!” Deanna whispered, and the party coiled behind the heavily armoured warrioress. They started to back off, but from the shrubbery a large three taloned claw came scratching out. 

The party started to quietly move south. Following after the strange claw came a giant goat head, with huge curled horns that gave off some sort of crumbling dust. The creature emerged more fully then, it was part bird, part goat, standing a huge five foot tall on all fours. It peered at them with yellow avian eyes and made a terrible sound. Lars launched a food ration at it, and within a second the creature was gobbling up the food. 

The party made away, careful not to use sharp movements, the chapel entrance was in sight! But emerging from another overgrown thicket was another of these strange beasts, this one appeared more aggressive, hopping up on its hind legs. Another ration was loosed and the party made towards the door. This ration was gobbled up equally quickly. As they reached the simple banded door of the chapel, they threw another ration back, between the two creatures, hoping that it would cause them to fight. Unfortunately one of the beasts was clearly more dominant and it snatched up the food without issue. 

The party opened the door and saw a very fine chapel. Hung on the walls were brightly coloured round shields with all manner of heraldry. Below those were frescoes of comely maidens carrying gifts towards the central altar. The altar held some sort of cloth and a cross. 

Next to the door was a large font, filled with holy water that dripped from a copper lambs head tap. This tap had two giant rubies for eyes! 

“This is a holy place, don’t touch those eyes.” Deanna said to her more chaotic inclined companions. 

On the right there was a great staircase and a vestibule that held some sort of stick. 

After filling up their waterskins with holy water the party moved to check out the altar, Thodash checked out the vestibule.

The altar cloth was simple, white, and was stained with the figure of a bearded man, arms crossed in repose. Could it be? Deana took a knee and touched the cloth to her head. She felt an overwhelming sense of holiness, and all her aches and pains from the climbing and falling melted away. The serene bearded face resembled the lord of law as he was depicted in some art works. She carefully folded up and took the relic. 

“It shouldn’t be left in this evil place.” 

Meanwhile in the vestibule Thodash found some sort of wand, the head of a goat carved on its tip. He waved it around a little, proclaiming himself lord of the goats, but eventually he handed it over to the parties only magic-user, Athilda. Next the party took to using their ten foot pole to poke one of the finely decorated shields from the wall. It clattered with a loud bang. 

Up in the rafters the party heard the groaning of floorboards, and dust poured down through the cracks in the ceiling. Someone was upstairs. The party moved to the door whilst Kaufman carefully went up the stairs without a light source, just to check it out. At the top of the stair he could see nothing, it was pitch-black, but he smelt sulphur. Nope, he went back down. 

Then the party heard a great electrical zap upstairs. Athilda considered that the zap and sulphur could relate to some sort of planar or dimensional magic. 

They opened the door back into the garden, Deanna held up the cross. One of the goat creatures launched an attack at her, but was repelled by a bright light within the doors frame. 

Kaufman grinned. “We are safe, maybe the lord of law wants us to liberate those rubies as well as the shroud.” The party agreed, except Deanna. The halfling popped out the fist sized rubies. The water that was pouring from the lambs mouth was now dribbling from its empty eye sockets. Kaufman turned and his friends gasped, except Deanna of course. Lars now had a great T carved into his forehead. Then there came a gust of wind, the door opened, and Lars was pushed from the building by some sort of magical force. 

“Help!” He called, but his friends could do nothing. He was thrust outside into the garden, and the two giant goat-bird-things aimed to ram him. He fled towards the parapet, the creatures hot on his tail. The party slipped out afterwards, going quietly around the thickets. Lars reached he wall and climbed over the railing, but a goat caught up to him and rammed. The horn struck his shoulder and instantly strange grey power erupted from his arm, and his arm was frozen in pain. He went down the rope. On the other side of the wall the rest of the party climbed down, Athilda taking a slight tumble however. 

The goat looking after Lars, jumped up onto the wallcand leapt down to where he was on the shore. Lars leapt into the lake and swam to the little raft, Athilda used the wand on the creature and it bowed towards her. The party led the now controlled goat, tied their rope to its neck, and let it pull their raft back to the western shore. Then they tied it up to a tree and fled back to town. 

O Death! Thou hast failed this time! 

And that concludes my Xyntillan Campaign. Thanks to all my players, I hope you had a blast.

What happens to the surviving PCs? I asked the players to write their endings:

Sindri – His personality will be consumed by the Blade of Rel, and slowly become a completely different person. He’ll eventually find the templar in Castle Xyntilan and duel to the death.

Mirella – Mirella continued growing her farm and cultivate the herbs and ingredients for her witchcraft. Years later, she becomes THE local witch.

Lars & Deanna – Lars asks Daenna too join him at the Tours en savoy graveyard, Lars Brings a shovel to the place Sindri showed him before he lost his mind too that dreadful sword. He digs 6 feet deep and finds a beautifully carved child sized coffin by human standards. “Pass me the crowbar Daenna please”. He prises open the casket to Reveal the corpse of his Brother. The decomposing has already started and the smell of death turns his stomach. Yet another trauma granted by those four Malevols. “Daenna please.. will you lay the holy cloth upon my departed brother and do the ritual too bring him back too me? I miss him dearly, and perhaps If he lives again I can lay down my thoughts of vengeance and leave this dreadful town.”

Deanna says, ”I will try, but it is not up to me if your wish will be granted or not. God might show mercy to the pagan soul of your brother but He also might not. But I will pray for him, because I know very well how it feels to lose a brother to the Evil that lurks in the Castle. There is something however that I will ask you before I kneel to pray for the mercy to your brother: If mercy is shown, in the future be reverent towards sacred places and relics of the Law. As you have already found out, the power of the Law is real and its Eye will notice any offence” and then Deanna covers the corpse of the halfling with the Shroud and kneels to pray resting her forehead on the the hilt of her sword.

Lars nods in agreement to Daennas request. “Yes, greed has long been the downfall of the Kaupfman family. May we be forgiven” He watches in awe as Daenna continues the ritual.

After a very long silent prayer, Deanna stands and carefully collects the Shroud. Her expression is solemn but her eyes are wet and she has to fight the inner voices reminding her, that she was unable to do the same for her brother. She then steps back a few feet and waits. 

After a few moments of quiet, the body of the small halfling remains still. Maybe it didn’t work? Suddenly a breath moves the shroud, then the figure sits up. The shroud falls from his face and his rotting corpse has been replaced with the fresh face of life. He lives again.

“Enjoy life and brotherly love, Lars, but do not forget what you have learned. Everything I guess went according to His plans. As for the rest of us, we will have to live what we have accomplished and what we failed to” The days spend as Keeper of the Shroud have changed Deanna. She never smiles now and she walks slowly her mind always absent. Her slow steps would eventually lead her to the East. After all the money she earned from her brief adventuring would suffice for the trip. The Shroud would be her ticket to join the mighty Holy Order of Knights of the Law despite her gender, her new suit of armour specially designed to hide that difference. She would serve Law for the rest of her knightly life. And perhaps we might meet again her somewhere else!

Lars grabs his brother in a warm embrace. “Baby brother you live!”. Lars sheds tears of joy. It takes a few minutes for Tim to come to, and regain his faculties. After Daenna has left, leaving the brothers to their family reunion. Suddenly Lars groans, he is still embracing his brother tightly. 

“Fuck you Lars. think you can sleep with my wife and take my hard earned money? No, you imbecile. Treason like this means one gets shanked”. Tim stands up, as he let’s go of his brothers embrace. His brother groans as he lies crumpled in the coffin clutching his ribs gasping for air. Tim throws the lid over the casket and climbs out of the grave. Lars, still groaning tries to kick the lid away but can’t muster the strength to do so, he can’t even mobilise too scream for help. Standing on the edge of the grave, Tim grabs the shovel and starts filling the grave. Lars can only lie in terror as the sand and earth slowly blocks out the sun and the sounds of the chirping birds, leaving him in a silent darkness to bleed out. Tim grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the sweat of his forehead


He says to himself. “All this manual labour has made me thirsty. I need a Brandy.”

Athilda – Athilda used the money she gained from her expeditions in Xyntillan to learn a new spell. The one she always wanted to learn but male haughty magicians would never show to one of her kind: Charm. A generous amount of gold coins however made one of them reconsider. Armed with such sorcery she went to Paris and met one of the handsomest men in the court. He immediately asked her to marry him and under her guidance, the same man whom everyone described as only blessed with looks yet not with wits, kept advancing within the hierarchy. The fact that his wife Athilda was not just considered one of the best dressed women in France but also an expert in arranging marriages by her enchanting manners and schemes might have helped in that regard.

Tordash – Tordash, not able to find his recent employer Lars Kaufman, gets paranoid. Last time he saw Lars he had been recognised as a thief and was denied service in the local shops. Everyone in town knew Tordash was in his employ. The down side too being fashionable is that everyone notice you all the time. It’s probably only a matter of time before they realise Tordash was a part of the gang that tried to heist the Malvols. “Better leave while I have the chance”. Tordash spends his gold on a horse, and rides east. He will ride until the Latin languages are far behind him, and seek the lands where silk is in abundance, and start a tailoring business. But years later he still wakes up in sweat with nightmares about Sarges head being popped like a grape in the mouth of that obese monstrosity. “I should’ve never went to France “.

FIN 

House Rules for OSE

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With my Xyntillan Campaign coming to a close I’ve been working on some B/X house rules and a campaign world.

I’ve decided to try and take B/X closer to the Sword & Sorcery pulp fiction that I love, dropping most of the Tolkienesque influences. That means the addition of some abilities for fighters. I’ve also gone against sagely advice and made a large map with 24 mile hexes, though no detailed sub-hexes; those will be discovered through play.

The document is pretty self indulgent, but it was a lot of fun to write. It will be added to and modified over the next couple of years as the game progresses.

💀 ⚔️ 🤘Game on 🤘 ⚔️ 💀

dreadlord-campaign-house-rules-v1.0Download

Xyntillan Expedition Fifteen

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Chaos Bound

Characters 

Sindri – Elf 2 – A chaotic elf of broody disposition 

Sarge – Fighter 1 – A tall stoic professional warrior. 

Athilda – Magic-user 1 – a tall, slim, and bug eyed crone, fifty years of age (a medieval 50). 

Deanna – Fighter 1 – The brave sister of Ralf Lionsword, out for revenge. 

Thodash – Fighter 1 – crossdressing warrior armed with a club. 

Lars Kauffman – Halfling 1 – plucky brother of another fallen hero, Tim Kaufman. 

“Whatever you do, when I call out retreat, you get away as fast as possible.” Sindri laid out the plan, they were going for another expedition, and not many more would follow. They had exhausted the towns willing mercenaries. All men-at-arms who heard the name Xyntillan now shook like the last green leaf upon a winters branch. The party could find no henchmen at all. They were going it alone. 

So off they went, up the valley, and marched up to the tall broody walls of the castle. All was quiet, except for the occasional call of a crow. 

The party decided to go through the gargoyle framed doors of the grand entrance. When they pulled open the doors a familiar face greeted them. The ghost of Medard Malevol the Mighty. The ghost hailed them, and told them he had left them a gift, resting by his bust on the floor above. 

The party quickly went though the eastern portal of the large entrance hall and into a room they had looted many weeks ago. Inside, upon a dirty table, was a small wax figure. On closer inspection they noticed it was carved in the likeness of Sindri, and behind the figure was a cushion, stuck with many pins. 

“Foul voodoo is afoot” The party took the wax figure, carefully bundling it up, and also the pins. 

Up the staircase they went, lantern glow leading the way. 

They came to a broken door, and through it could just about make out the white head of the Medard bust.  In the shadows something else lingered. In the crack in the door a leering face swept into view. The monster attacked, opening the door and revealing another two allies behind it. These were strange skeletal figures, with dried out leathery flesh hanging from their bones. They made a terrible wheezing sound and lashed out at Deanna and Thodash with their claws. 

Arrows flew up, flaming oil crashed against the wall, Deanna and Thodash smote one of the creatures but another took its place and slashed Thodash’s chest. The dress wearing warrior quickly switched places with Sarge. Sarge and Deanna the warrioress made light work of the creature, hacking it into pieces.

The final monster placed its hands upon its hollow cheeks, gave a shrill yell and fled into the darkness. The party tried to follow, but they moved carefully, refusing to run, and loosed arrows. The creature got away into the darkness of the library. 

“Don’t worry about him, let’s get our present from the templar.” As promised they found a neat scroll upon the busts plinth, sealed with red wax. As Lars Kaufman approached he noticed that the bust’s facial features changed into a horrible grimace, its glinting eye stared into his soul. Overcome with panic the halfling fled, but not so quickly that his friends couldn’t tackle him to the ground. 

Sindri approached the bust next, and though he noticed the same strange change in the statue he managed to overcome his rising dread. He snatched the scroll. The party went back downstairs and calmed down poor Lars, who was suffering terrible tremors. The rest of the party read the scroll, which appeared to be cryptic hints at some treasure hidden in the castle. 

“A Treasure map!” 

“Well, lets get hunting.”

Off the party went, but as they reached the portal into the grand entrance hall, they heard bizarre sounds beyond the door. Sniffing, baying, the clacking of hoofs and … maybe a cockerels cry. The party waited and the sound soon moved away. Peering through the door they saw large piles of manure dotted around, and tracks with hoofs and three taloned claws. The manure was powdery, like chalk, and smelt of stone. 

Avoiding the tracks, which led to the north, they decided on trying an, as yet, undiscovered room. They went in, and sitting in the corner was a headless corpse. From the ceiling a lantern hung on a chain and swung around and around in a circular fashion. As the party walked through the room they noticed their chainmail, belt buckles and weapons of steel were bringing to follow the pattern of the lantern. 

“Quick! Follow me” Sindri bellowed and they dashed East into another room. This one had a large table, and huge wardrobe, there was an archway leading through into some sort of trophy room. The trophy room was lined with swords, and above a fine well stocked bar, mounted on the wall, was a black great sword with dark runes down the blade. A brass sign below the sword read ‘the Blade of Rel.’ 

Before the party went into the trophy room they decided to open the wardrobe, and dozens of skulls fell out, one of which has a swanky pair of gold sunglasses. Kaufman snatched those up. Hark! Someone at the door. The door handle rattled and the creaking floorboards betrayed someones presence. 

The party snatched up the skulls and dashed into the wardrobe, all but Sarge, who was about to step in when the door clicked inward. Sarge closed the wardrobe and turned, five skulls in his arms. In the doorway was a colossally fat man, his yellowing flesh rotting and dripping from his form. His bleak white eyes peered into the warrior, who began slowly retreating towards the trophy room. 

“I see you’ve found my collection of skulls, naughty boy. Do you have any food? I’m terribly famished.” 

Sarge made his way through the arch and noticed his feet had activated some kind of plate, a mechanical whirring spun in the walls around him. The fat monster began laughing at him. Sarge leapt into the trophy room, and grabbed the blade of Rel from its mounting. The monster was laughing terribly now. Sarge turned to face the beast, which was squeezing itself through the door frame. Sarge heard metal sounds all around him, and turning his head, he saw that every single sword from the walls were floating, tips pointed at him. He didn’t have a moment to react, as the blades flew into him and skewered him like a kebab. 

Inside the wardrobe the party had been listening. They heard the heavy footsteps of the monster, then dragging, then a wet sound of meat hitting wood. Then the metal clanking of the swords being removed. Sindri opened the door a crack and snuck out. The fat zombie was preparing his meal on the table, his back to the elf. Sindri made away through the southern door. Lars was next to try and escape, but the creaking floorboards underfoot made the zombie pause. The halfling darted under the table. The Zombie continued its procedure of sucking on the corpses head like a lollipop.

The rest of the party decided not to creep out, but Athilda waved her hands and said some magic words, a floating disc materialised, slamming open the wardrobe doors. Thodash and Deanna leapt onto it. The fat zombie turned around with his mouth full of sarges head, stunned. A clean skull fell out of his mouth onto the floor and almost rolled into Lars beneath the table. 

Athilda has the initiative however, and ran as fast as her witchy legs could carry her, her disc of floating comrades trailing behind her. The monster began following, but had to try and squeeze through the door. 

In the chaos Lars crept from under the table into the trophy room, he filled up his bag will all the fine wines and brandy from the drinking cabinet, and then wrapped his coat around the blade of Rel, making sure not to touch it. Then he was out through the room with the swinging lantern, but as he opened the door the fat monster was there coming towards him! Quickly the halting ran backwards and evaded the beast. He got outside where he reunited with his friends. 

On their travel back to town, Sindri took the blade of Rel, being able to read the dark chaotic runes upon the blade. But as he touched it his body spasmed, then he turned to his friends and spoke with a much deeper and sinistral voice. 

“Come comrades, let us find heroes of Law, and let us sunder them.” 

What will they do next?

Xyntillan Expeditions Thirteen & Fourteen

/ Dread Lord / Leave a comment

Double feature.

Expedition Thirteen.  

Characters 

Clyde – Cleric 2 – once a thin waif, now a decked out paladin with templar robe, bishops magic crook, and a strong sense of purpose. 

Exeo – Magic-user 1 – self proclaimed master of flames. 

Sindri – Elf 1 – a dark cutthroat. 

Percy – Thief 1 – a scrawny little kid who’s never taken a shower in his life. 

Walbach & Farbig – men at arms. 

Bunduc – a wardog. 

After their rather disastrous last expedition the party chose to take a different entrance into the castle. Clyde had managed to escape the halls of terror by banging into a throne down in the dungeon, then accidentally hitting a switch that sent it mechanically upward into a great hall. He didn’t get to map this area due to his panicked fleeing, but he knew he wanted to return there. 

The others agreed, and so they marched into the courtyard from the Western gate. 

They crept around the bracken and the vegetable patch, fearful of being spotted. But when they arrived at the great second gate they found the double doors swollen shut. Next to the doors were two sleeping sentries in their guard posts. The party didn’t want to wake them, so they decided to retreat and try to enter the castle from the tall rose garden that hung on a balcony in the north. 

On their way there they spent some time observing the pond area. In the centre of the pond was an island with a pavilion and a stone slab. To the east of this was another greco style pavilion with a statue of a maiden. Sindri and Exeo waded through the water dragging their war hound with them, and began combing the area. They found a grave belonging to Tristano Malévol The Love-Lost. The spent some time attempting to slide open the huge slab that bore his likeness.  

At the maiden statue the others were attempting to discover some kind of secret portal or switch. Twisting the statues arm this way, singing to it that way, and so on. All with no effect. 

Back at the grave site Exeo pushed the slab enough to see a withered skeletal arm inside the tomb. He made an executive decision to pour the contents of his holy water onto this arm. It erupted in plume of smoke, a wave of heinous screeching followed, and the huge slab, which the pair of adventurers had been struggling to move, went flying off the coffin. 

Sindri retreated at once, but brave Exeo donned his dagger and willed Walback and Bunduc the wardog into battle. The creature was a huge four armed skeleton, screeching with rage, and stood nearly seven foot tall whilst wielding four blades. It made light work of the henchman and dog as the flame master retreated. 

Brave Clyde stood at the waters edge holding aloft his holy symbol, but the creature merely chuckled and spat profane insults. 

It waded across the water to meet him, whilst Sindri legged it to the south, and the rest of the party set a grappling hook and climbed up to the rose garden. 

Blow was met by blow as brave Clyde tangled with the abomination, but alas, with a violent stroke he was sundered. 

With Clyde dead the creature climbed after the party. They opened a door into the castle. The gawky thief Percy decided to flee no longer! He met the beast at the portal and flashed his blade into the light. Alas, he too was cut down. 

Clyde and Exeo ran into a corridor, known to hold ‘dream beasts.’ As they ran around a corner, they heard the thundering hoofs of the creatures. They lured the four armed Tristano directly in to the oncoming path of two huge dream stallion, one flaming hot with a fiery mane, the other made of pure lightning. The two heroes dashed through a door just in time, and the Malevol was crushed under hoof. 

So the party looted his corpse and made way back to town. 

Expedition Fourteen.

Characters 

Exeo – Magic-user 1 – self proclaimed master of flames.

Sindri – Elf 2 – lord of shadow 

Skanda the Slayer – Fighter 1 – a tall brutish woman of barbarian nature. 

Athillda – Magic-user 1 – a tall, slim, and bug eyed crone, fifty years of age (a medieval 50). 

Kusk – torchbearer 

Thodash – man at arms 

The party, being unable to hire many henchmen due to their high casualty rates, were only able to hire a couple of wretched underlings. 

The party travelled back to the castle in search of treasure, but unsure which way to go. 

On their journey around the castes periphery they encountered a hunchback named Samuel. He was repairing a window on a long pair of ladders. They talked with him for a brief moment, finding out he was a handy man of sorts for the masters. They left him alone, seeing the blades under his cloak. They did notice however that he began to follow them from the roof. 

Inside the grand entrance hall, after the party had disposed of a few corpses pilled outside the doors, they moved north into a hall lined with paintings. Some of the painting watched them with cruel eyes, and one of them began to fire arrows at them! 

The party was able to duck and weave out of the line of fire. They stood before a large staircase, but opted not to go up, instead going north down a tight corridor. They listened at a door and heard many warriors chanting and singing. 

“We aren’t going in there.” 

Very wise too. 

They went north. In through a set of doors, they saw a strange pool of water dripping upwards. Then through another set of doors they saw a large iron door with a casting of a bat at its centre. The bat had been cast into different pieces, and the party pondered if it might be a lock. Exeo jammed his knife into a gap and suddenly a huge blaring alarm went off. 

They ran back the way they came, but a great clanking of iron slammed behind them. 

They went back, then north, and found a prison lined with cells. Skanda turned around when she heard Exeo mumble something, and saw him going back towards the danger. She lurched after him. 

In the corridor she saw Exeo prostrate himself before a beautiful and pale woman, dressed in fine pink silks and lace. She laughed and commanded, “Kill her my love or we can never be together!” 

The wizard and warrioress began battling, the former trying to stab wildly, the latter trying to overpower him. All while this royal fiend laughed to herself. 

“Get a grip of yourself Exeo! This is magic!” Skanda tried. 

“No, you will never hurt my love!” Exeo replied. This went on for some time. 

In the north the others decided against going into the prison, and instead went further north, opening a door and finding a huge tapestry blocking the way. They crawled under this and found themselves in a huge throne room, Stained glass up high streamed down sunlight 

Back south, Skanda managed to overpower the wizard, but as she did the pale royal figure wrapped her cold hand around the wizards throat. 

“I am bored now.” The fiend said coldly, and Exeo withered to a dusty skeleton. Skanda retreated, with the vile creature trying to touch her all the while. She managed to fend off the attacks, even when the creature took to dancing on the ceiling and lunging down with her pale clawed fingers. 

Finally Skanda reached the tapestry, and with a great cleave managed to split it open pooling sunlight all over the creature. It screamed terribly and erupted with acrid mist or smoke, and fled back into the darkness. 

In the throne room, the party smashed apart the throne itself and found the Sceptre of the Merovings, a sacred relic from antiquity, hidden there. 

Whilst this was occurring their ally the Templar ghost of Médard Malévol the Mighty wandered through the hall. After a brief discussion he guarded them to the entrance and on their way to freedom. He told them some information, of a holy chapel to the north, where a font of holy water may aid them. But, he said, beware the goats.