The Fury of the Sea

Driving wind and rain pelted the huddled figures as they slumped against the western wall of the Church of the Whispering Wind. Only one of the assemblage seemed undaunted by the inclement weather.

Brother Markus stood boldly near the outer ledge of the northern promontory upon which the Church overlooked the sea. He gestured grandly at the lashing storm, as much for the benefit of his students’ morale as for its teaching value.

“Observe the fury of the storm!” he announced to his students, who could barely make out his words over the howling tempest. “As you see, the Wind does not always Whisper. Some times it ROARS.”

As was often the case, Markus’ lesson crossed from lecture to sermon and back again-

“What we witness here today is the sea’s great engine of creation and destruction-- the gales of autumn are the children born of the endless dance between the Whispering Wind and the Eternal Wellspring! They batter the land with their power, and yet still they bring life. They-

“Professor?” one of the students interrupted furtively, raising her hand.

“I-- what?-- Miss Vyrlich?” Markus replied, his rhythm broken by the young student’s query.

“Professor,” Mathilda Vyrlich repeated, pointing down to the beach below. “What is that?”

The priest turned to look where Mathilda was pointing. He squinted against the gloom. It looked as if something had washed up on the beach. Some thing... Some one. Someone!

Markus turned back and made for the rocky steps that led down to the beach.

“Mathilda, fetch your parents, and Constable Dreng if you can find him!” he shouted as he hurried past his students. Almost as if an afterthought, he announced loudly over his shoulder “Class dismissed!”

                                                                   * * * * * * * * * * *
The woman was alive.

Markus had pulled her far away from the pounding surf immediately upon reaching the beach. At first, she had not been breathing. Without thinking, he pressed down on her chest several times and breathed into her mouth. Within moments, the woman spasmed and began coughing out the seawater that had gone into her lungs.

She groaned raggedly, and looked up uncomprehendingly at the priest.

“The Wyvern,” she murmured, struggling to speak. “The shoals. Didn’t see the island. Taking on water...”

The woman lapsed into unconsciousness, and said no more. Markus uttered a brief spell of mending over the woman, healing some of the minor wounds she had suffered in what sounded like a shipwreck.

In a manner of minutes, Magda and Mathilda, her oldest daughter, had arrived on the scene. Dreng and Anton Vyrlich arrived with a makeshift stretcher shortly thereafter.

Who is she?” Magda asked, wrapping a heavy blanket around the sailor.

“Not a local,” Markus replied, also helping. He noted the woman’s telltale grey-green skin and small tusks. “A half-orc sailor from a ship called the Wyvern, which she named to me before she collapsed. It may have crashed against the shoals somewhere in the bay.”

As Mamadou and Anton gently moved the woman onto the stretcher, Magda look out across the thrashing waters. The storms had been particularly violent this year. They had also come unseasonably early. Too early. The ship and its crew would have had no idea what they were sailing into.

The men had lifted the sailor up off the ground and gone off to the Church of the Whispering Wind, where Markus and his students would tend to her. Magda gestured for Mathilda to follow along.

As they left, the aging wizard looked out one last time beyond the short promontory at the southern end of the village to at the wine-dark deep that lay beyond.

“I think we may need to petition Lord Kell to build a lighthouse...”

Campaign Notes #3

With my goal of a fully resolved campaign upon the party’s attainment of level 12, we have rounded the bend and we are in the home stretch.  Everyone is now 8th level, and our next session is the last one shot for the rest of the campaign.  Each session afterward will be one part of a two-parter.  The goal is to tie up some of the character stories as we work our way into the finale.  That means 7 more sessions total.

We have experienced two character deaths in the campaign, one of which has added more lore to the story, and one of which has led to an infusion of new material into the campaign, as noted below.  All told, I think the encounters throughout the campaign have been challenging without being overwhelming.

The new material comes with Andercles’ introduction of Professor Malort.  As the first truly dedicated arcanist in the campaign (Foose’s sorcerer wasn’t around long enough to count), I was able to introduce the Knowledge (Occult) skill.  I never had the chance to work with Foose on that concept and his character before he deployed overseas.  I understand he will be back at the end of January, though, so we will see whether he wants to start over or not with a new PC.

Without an occult scholar and researcher, Brother Markus had to fill in instead.  It worked okay (and I enjoyed writing the story parts), but it isn’t the same as the campaign buy in when one of the characters is making the discoveries instead of one of the NPCs.  In any case, the description for the Knowledge (Occult) skill is included below.  Anyone can put ranks into the skill now.  Also, it is relevant again how teleportation works in Primordia.  Please read the house rule provided below for details.

I also never imagined we would come back to Hannsport so soon.  I assumed going in that the goals of various members of the party would have quickly led the campaign toward the capitol, Yorvik, and all the sights and intrigues of the big city!  But the characters’ background (Erick’s blood ties to the region) and choices (the paladin swearing allegiance to Dame Abbey, Scotty’s desire to start a church) got things pointed back to Hannsport sooner than I thought (because of course Hannsport is where the finale is/was going to be!)  So even though we got as far as Logash, the party did not go down river to Yorvik, and I do not expect there to be any reason to go there for the rest of the campaign.

And, at long last (for me anyway), I have just now introduced the NPC bard named Josie Nightingale.  If anyone recalls, I had posted a Rogues Gallery entry for her on Infrno for Dark Tides 1.0.  That campaign ended before she could be formally introduced into the mix.  In this 2.0 campaign, a combination of the gypsies and Brother Markus (once again!) filled the role I originally saw for her.  She still has an important part to play, however, as you will see by the end.

There is also lots of material for game mechanics that we did not end up needing.  I have other locations yet to come in this campaign, and other locations we do not expect to visit this time around.  If the party would have led the campaign to be more focused out of Dark Oaks (rather than as just an early pit stop), cool!  If the party led us into the wild lands north of Viborg, cool!  I have stuff for everything!

Having said as much, the party has met the NPCs of note in Logash, and of course in Hannsport.  They’ve briefly encountered the people of Dark Oaks and Hillsreach, although they certainly know Dame Abbey very well.  They will also soon find themselves in Gorum’s Vale, where they will get to know Sir Ulysses Marigan and his household a bit more.  That’s a clean sweep of the settlements within Davin Kell’s domain.

As for Kell himself, well, his role in the campaign remains a bit mysterious, although as we move along, we should expect to see him start to become a bit more involved after a 25 year, melancholic withdrawal.  But we shall see!


DARK TIDES HOUSE RULES UPDATE

KNOWLEDGE (Int; Trained Only)
You are educated in a field of study and can answer both simple and complex questions.  Like the Craft, Perform and Profession skills, Knowledge actually encompasses a number of different specialties.  Listed below is a typical field of study.
• Occult (possession and haunting, psychic mysteries and traditions, ley lines, occult rituals and symbols, aberrations)

CONJURATION
Each conjuration spell belongs to one of five subschools. Conjurations transport creatures from another plane of existence to your plane (calling); create objects or effects on the spot (creation); heal (healing); bring manifestations of objects, creatures, or forms of energy to you (summoning); or transport creatures or objects over great distances (teleportation).

Teleportation: A teleportation spell transports one or more creatures or objects a great distance. The most powerful of these spells can cross planar boundaries. Unlike summoning spells, the transportation is (unless otherwise noted) one-way and not dispellable. Teleportation is instantaneous travel through the Astral Plane. Anything that blocks astral travel also blocks teleportation.

In Primordia the path through the Astral Plane passes dangerously close to Outer Realms whose names mortals dare not speak.  As a result, powerful Teleportation magic (spells of 5th level or higher, or spell-like abilities of comparable effect) requires lengthy rituals that both focus the caster's concentration and draw up powerful psychic defenses.  Such rituals can take an hour or more to perform, require significant resources, and are still not guaranteed of success.

Traveling so close to alien planes far removed from your home plane creates a risk that you will incur a decrease in Intelligence and Charisma due to your brain being overwhelmed.  You must succeed on an Intelligence check against DC16 to avoid a decrease in Intelligence and Charisma. If the check fails, your Intelligence and Charisma scores each fall to 8 for 5 weeks, and you become unable to cast arcane spells. No magic short of a wish is known to overcome such a blight.  You cannot take 10 on this check. If you lose Intelligence and Charisma, the effect strikes as soon as the spell is completed.

The success of casting Teleportation in Primordia cannot exceed the threshold of "seen casually," i.e. the chance of success can never be greater than: On target 01-88%, Off target 89-94%, Similar area 95-98%, Mishap 99-100%.

Peace Dividends

Josie Nightingale

Josie Nightingale hummed a little tune to herself as she leisurely made her way down the well trod game trail.  It was a grim and haunting saga, just as so many of the northmen’s always seemed to be, and it had been stuck in her head ever since she had crossed back into the kingdom of Viborg.

She had been gone nearly two years amongst the peoples of the far north, and she had learned many new songs and tales that she could in turn share with the folk of the south.  The primal music of the viking peoples, in particular were always in demand in the fashionable salons of Yorvik.  But in Hannsport and Logash?  Well, . . . not so much.  There they liked to hear the light and airy ballads of the elves.  And she had collected a few of those while she was up there, as well.

That’s what she did, after all.  She had been known as the Wandering Skald of Viborg for more years now than she could remember.  It was a moniker she had neither asked for, nor grown accustomed to.  Ever since she was a wee lass, she had loved to sing and dance and listen to the tales and rumors that people always shared amongst themselves when they gathered together.  Once she was full grown, she had taken to wandering about the north in search of all of those things that she loved, with a lute in one hand and a rapier in the other.

Her travels had taken her from the parlors of Yorvik to the long houses of the northmen and everywhere in between.  And every once in a while, her path led through the little fishing village called Hannsport.

The last time she had passed through was nearly two years ago, not long after the Battle of Darmody Meadows . . .

The village had been half razed during the orc attack.  As Davin Kell’s small force met the remnant of the orc horde in the open glades outside the village, a detachment of the invaders had swung around the site of the main battle and assaulted the village, intent on burning and destroying everything they could.  The defenders had been prepared, though.  The orcs had run straight into makeshift fortifications and a desperate foe.  The fighting had been hard, but the people of the village had ultimately prevailed, despite the destruction.

Things had changed quite a bit since then, though.  The damage that had been done had not only been repaired, but the town had expanded almost three times in size.

Even so, she was amazed at the sight that greeted her as she crossed out of the woods and into the northern edge of the village. An elven tree tower!

It must have been fifty feet tall, at least!

She was now certain her visit was worth the trouble. Elves! In Hannsport!  She had heard nothing of this from any of the clans she had visited!  She couldn’t wait to see Markus!  She wondered if he knew the residents of the tower, or if he could introduce her to them.

Seeing what Markus had been up to had been the primary purpose of her trip.  She had initially thought to head down the River Isunda to Yorvik before it froze over for the winter.  But while passing through Logash she had heard from Naissa Mirian that her old friend, Brother Markus, had partnered up with Magda Vyrlich to establish an academy on the premises of the village’s old church grounds.

Naissa had also told her how Dame Astrid had fallen in battle with dark forces, and that Abbey March had inherited her mother’s estate, only to in turn be betrayed by her aunt Jhessa.  It was a sad tale, and Josie had stopped in Hillsreach to pay her respects before moving on.

Making her way in a casual loop through the village, she came upon two of the places she’d heard travelers speak of on her way in.

The fortified structures stood opposite each other on either side of the Hawthorn grove that had once been both literally and figuratively at the heart of town.  She noted their imposing names-The Chapel of St Cambrace the Redeemer;  The Great Hall of the Untainted.  Josie watched as tabarded acolytes came and went from each of the formidable strongholds, largely ignoring the devoted of the other faith.  She smiled to herself as she walked past toward the stand of hawthorn trees.

She stepped into the heart of the grove and lingered awhile, running her hands over the familiar limbs of each of the sea-weathered trees.  The lady of the village had tended the place when she was alive.  Even though their lady had been gone for a very long time now, it appeared that the villagers still lovingly maintained the park in her memory.  Josie whispered a brief prayer to the spirit of the grove, and then at last headed out for the Academy of the Whispering Wind.

She couldn’t wait to discuss all of the things she had seen with Markus, and she suddenly realized that she might have reason to spend the winter in the interesting little village.

The Expansion of Hannsport at a Glance

With the successful assault of the Black Edifice by a stalwart band of adventurers combined with the defense of Hannsport by Lord Kell and his forces, the dark influence of the Graz-naz had been eliminated from the land.

Peace settled over the region for a long time.  As the adventurers spent the long concealed treasures of the Edifice and established their influence in the village, Hannsport began to grow, doubling in size in a few short years.

After the Battle of Darmody Meadows- where Lord Kell's forces, supported by a contingent of Valinesti elf druids and rangers, met the remaining orc forces in battle on the fields of a small farm- the elves and men of the region forged a mutual defense alliance against any foes that might arise in the future.

An increase in demand for infrastructure- along with the increased security provided by the new militant orders headquartered in town- drew the attention of the merchant houses of Logash and Yorvik.  The volume of goods traveling over the trade route between Logash and Hannsport expanded significantly, and a number of times per year sailing ships from the capital anchored in the sheltered bay and unloaded their exotic cargoes on the docks, where eager consumers awaited them.

As the village has grown and prospered, however, its success has drawn envious eyes.  None have yet challenged the might of the settlement's defenders, but it would seem that it is only a matter of time before someone, or some thing,  puts the situation to the test . . .

LEGEND

1.   Academy of the Whispering Wind

2.   Constable Dreng's Abode

3.   Village Hall

4.   Constable's Watch Post

5.   The Lady's Grove (Hawthorn Grove)

6.   Docks

7.   Chapel of St. Cambrace the Redeemer

8.   Holy Sanctuary of the Untainted

9.   General Store

10. The Black Kraken Inn

11. Stables

12. Blacksmith

13. Tannery

14. Tanner's Storehouse

15. The Vyrlich Manor

16. Professor Malort's Tree Tower

SESSION 8 - WHAT LIES BENEATH

The Graz-naz

The party is brought in to observe the war council.  Kell turns the floor over to Markus, who explains that he and Dreng returned a few days ago from the Black Edifice, which is haunted by something trapped behind the disc.  The disc was once a “door” but is now more of a “lock.”  Markus and Dreng fought their way through several orc scouts to escape, and saw many more orcs coming down from the mountain in great numbers to an assembly point in the north end of the valley.

Professor Malort, who has recently arrived from Yorvik, has deciphered the rest of the script and symbols on the disc.  The marking indicate that the Edifice was once actually a shrine dedicated to some forgotten dark power a long time ago.

The Valinesti elves also just told him that they had once infiltrated the Edifice nearly twenty years ago as a large band of orcs had been tampering with the disc.  During this raid, Ghaelvwynne had cast a binding spell to seal the evil within, so that only a paladin could undo the binding.  During this raid, she had lost her sister Amraylle, whom she believed was killed.

The party must infiltrate the edifice while Kell and his people make defensive preparations.  Kell’s forces are not strong enough to attack the orcs, and so everyone else must help prepare for an invasion.  The party is asked to make a surgical strike- enter the Edifice and eliminate the evil trapped behind the disc if they can.  Markus and Professor Malort believe that if the evil is eliminated, the dark influence causing the orcs to gather will dissipate.  Professor Malort volunteers to join with them in their quest.

After quickly preparing, the party heads out on their new mission.  When they enter the valley, they see that the army of orcs has begun their march toward Hannsport.  Time was running out!

As they approach the Edifice, they spot several fiendish harpies guarding the entrance.  The ambushers are ambushed and heavy fighting ensues, with the harpies unleashing their unholy smite ability on the party of good adventurers.  When they have overcome their enemies, the party infiltrates the Edifice.

As they next make their way to the disc, they encounter no further resistance.  Sir Donagahst breaks the seal and they prepare to enter, but are caught in a steam trap, which injures all of the party members except Moghash and Professor Malort, who were further back.

The party then makes its way through a corridor filled with statues of bizarre looking creatures placed into evenly spaced alcoves.  As they move along, the "statues" animate and attack, and the party engages in a drawn out, bloody battle with the animated creatures.  They are victorious!

They proceed into the shrine and next encounter a haunted area that infused them with a weakening curse.  Upon taking the remains of several poor souls who had been tortured and packed into narrow steel cages to die out of the area and burying them outside, the curse was lifted!

Proceeding along the nest hallway, they come to a large worship hall with a smooth stone door at the other end that cannot be opened.  In the hall, they inspect the altar, which bears the same sigil they encountered many weeks ago on an altar used by hobgoblins in the woods outside Dark Oaks.

They circle back, looking for another way into the area behind the stone door.

Soon afterward, the party finds itself trapped in a winding corridor with a vampiric ooze, which tries to consume Sir Donaghast whole!  They successfully battle the creature and after their victory discover a secret door that leads to a tunnel that takes them to the sealed off area.

The area is the lair of the Graz-naz, a being alluded to in the documents the party had seized from the various goblinoid creatures they had previously defeated in the past.  They battle the Graz-naz, who blinds Moghash and assaults the party with deadly magics.  The party overcomes their foe after a lengthy battle, and finds a concealed chamber behind a secret door that contains the Graz-naz wealth- a dozen grimoires and several chests of jewels and gold coins!

They party loots the area and makes their way out.  As they head back to the village they realize that with the death of the Graz-naz, the orc army has split up, and the party is able to avoid the scattering bands.  They also note that at least one sizable force has continue toward the village!

They race toward home, concerned for the fate of their village!

The Drums of War

Dame Abigail March

“I shall not tarry here, Naissa,” Dame Abbie muttered as much to herself as to her lifelong friend.  “There is nothing for me here any longer.”

Naissa’s arched eyebrows betrayed her feelings before she even replied.  “But Abbie, you are the master of this estate.  You have a duty-”

“Nothing!” she inerjected. “My mother is gone.  My aunt, the betrayer, is gone.  Balint, banished forever, is gone...”

The young knight slumped in her plush leather chair, losing her gaze in the blazing hearth fire.
Naissa considered what she might say next.

“What will you do?” She finally asked.

“I shall return to Hillsreach and swear my allegiance to Davin Kell.”

“... Just as Dame Astrid once did,” Naissa observed, sighing darkly.  “I do not know that such a course of action is wise.”

Naissa frowned.  She had never met the half-elf.  Given the man’s reputation, she did not want to, either.

Both young women stared silently into the glowing flames for a long while, occasionally sipping their tea.

“I am leaving tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“Aye, and I have made a decision as to the management of the estate.”

“I see.”

“I have decided to leave it in your charge, Naissa.”

“Me? But, wouldn’t Annah, or even Jonas, be a better choice?”

“I trust you more than anyone else alive, besides Balint.  And I can’t leave him in charge now, can I?”
They laughed grimly together, and the mood lightened ever so slightly.

*******************

Abbie stood quietly in the Grand Nave of the Church of the Deep Umber in Hillsreach. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  She could feel her mother’s presence all around her.  This was where Abbie had been born.  Where she had listened to her mother’s uncounted sermons on the faith.  Where she had played, and learned of the world, and sung her hymns of devotion.

This was her home.

She spent the morning in the church, tidying up.  As mid day approached, she gathered herself and exited the place of worship, walking leisurely along the short central lane of the village.  She greeted each villager she passed by name, and received a bow or curtsy in return.  She was still trying to get used to that part of things.

She passed the village well, and then the little open air market where everyone gathered at mid day.  She bought a handful of apples for a few coppers, and continued on her way home.

As soon as she walked up the steps of the sweeping porch, Nan intercepted her.

“A letter has arrived,” the old servant told her excitedly. “A letter from Lord Kell!”

The young knight scanned the letter quickly, wondering if Davin Kell had read her mind and summoned her before she could announce her intentions.  Instead, she learned that the Lord of Hannsport had called a council to address the appearance of an orcish warband outside a nearby ruin on the edge of his lands.

“Well,” Dame Abigail March observed wryly, thinking back to her discussion with Naissa Mirian a few short days ago. “It appears I do have a duty to follow, after all.”

********************

Abbie looked at the assembled members of Davin Kell’s court- Brother Markus and Constable Mamadou Dreng stood huddled in the far corner with three elves.  Two she remembered as Valinesti who had been involved somehow in her rescue from the sacred grotto- Ghaelvwynne and Lothaleril, she believed were their names.  The third she had not seen before, but Magda Vyrlich had told her he was Professor Malort, a renowned scholar who had come from Yorvik at Markus’ request.

Abbie sat at the massive table in Lord Kell’s great hall with Magda and Magda’s husband Anton, the mayor of Hannsport, discussing both the old days as well as more recent rumors of what was happening by the ruins in the hills.

Davin Kell’s other remining retainers, Sir Ulysses Marigan, governor of Gorum’s Vale, and Sir Rollin Korr, governor of Dark Oaks, sat together near the hearth, trading tactical ideas on how they might assault the orcs that had gathered to the north.  Abbie knew them, although not well.  When they had arrived, they each took a moment to personally give their condolences on Dame Astrid’s passing.  Abbie also knew from her mother’s stories that the three of them, and Lord Kell, had been through many trying times and campaigns together, and the young knight appreciated their sympathies.

Abbie considered the assembled court to be both formidable and wise.  Whatever dark force menaced Hannsport now, she was certain they would be able to overcome it together.

After a few more moments, Davin Kell finally entered the hall.  He sat in his great chair on a small dais and looked down at the assembled council.  When he first entered the hall, the others joined Abbie’s group at the table.  The assemblage then remained silent, waiting for their lord to address them.

“The orcs of the mountains dare to show their presence at the edge of my domain,” he began.  Abbie could feel the hatred biting behind the words. “It has been many years since the vermin have skittered down from their barren rocks to trouble me.  They shall regret their mistake.”

Old Acquaintances

Professor Malort, My Dearest Teacher and Friend,

Greetings!

I hope this correspondence finds you doing well and prospering.  I have heard of your recent appointment to the University in Yorvik, and I must say they could not have found a more knowledgeable and expert scholar in matters of the occult!  I expect your lecture schedule will keep you well occupied when the next term begins in the Spring.

As it would happen, I have recently stumbled across a matter that might peak your interest in the interim.  I have enclosed a rough sketch and surface rubbings of a rather large stone disc that was uncovered in a forgotten ruin by a band of adventurers. It is most peculiar and the markings across its circumference are only partially intelligible to me.

I and a colleague of mine intend to personally examine this curiosity further, and shall leave tomorrow for the wilderness.  I am sending this correspondence to you without delay in the hope you might provide your insight into these materials, as well as whatever else we might gather on our expedition.

Should this situation merit your attention, I look forward to your swift and imminent response!


                                  Your Devoted Student,


                                  Markus of the Whispering Wind

SESSION 7 - THE MIDNIGHT MASSACRES

The party is summoned to attend Lemminkainen Meade, the Lord of Logash, at the Town Hall of Logash around noon. When they assemble, they see that Naissa and Emune are there, also. Lord Meade tells them that a series of murders that have occurred in the part of town referred to among the locals as the “gypsy run,” a route along Mud Alley from the docks to one of the gates leading out of town. The murders have occurred on each of the two previous nights of the full moon, and the victims have all been known or suspected affiliates of the travellers that frequent the area. The victims also appeared to have been mauled by a wild beast.

Naissa then explains that it is her belief that supernatural forces may be invlolved- the beast-like attacks, the full moon- lycanthropes! She says wolfsbane might cure the afflicted if he or she could be made to consume the plant, but that they might also perish from the poison. Because of all the rumors, she is currently sold out of wolfsbane, but tells the party where they can go outside of town to harvest it fresh. The group is then charged by Lord Meade with putting a halt to these events and bringing those responsible to justice, dead or alive!

The party first goes to Naissa’s tower, where she tells them all she knows about were-creatures, including their vulnerability to silver. She offers the group the use of several . . . ‘implements’ either made of silver or laced with silver- a slender stiletto, a pair of long needles, a leather scourge tipped with silver barbs Naissa describes as ‘exquisite,’ and several other items the party declines to use.

In order to cover more ground they split up, and the half-orcs leave for the woods to gather the plants, while the others investigate clues to the murders. They begin by seeking out Madame Eva’s caravan, which is now camped outside of town, in order to consort with the gypsy wise woman. Upon meeting with her, they closely question her and her oldest son Sandor, and are able to learn important information.

They learn that Madame Eva believes the killer to be her youngest son, Balint. Balint has gone missing, and some dark shroud has covered his aura, and no divination she has cast has helped. She fears a great, dark curse has been laid upon her son, a moon curse that has not been bestowed in generations. She believes the curse is driving him to attack the only rivals the Meszaros have in the north- the Zsoldos clan- and driving Balint to seek out his closest rival, Anatal Zsoldos, in particular. All the victims have been smuggling associates of Antal. She believes there can be no other explanation.

Balint Meszaros

Madame Eva implores the party to save her son from doom, as she in turn had saved Donaghast from the darkness. They agree to use the wolfsbane to try to cure Balint, and depart for the town guard barracks to continue their investigation. Lorde Meade told them that the basement of the barracks was serving as a makeshift morgue, as they were waiting until such time as Sister Jhessa March could be summoned to properly treat the bodies (It was not yet known that Jhessa had betrayed her family, and had perished. Dame Abbie was keeping the party under strict silence). Brother Yorick had also volunteered to say various rites over the bodies and apply the proper treatments, much to Lord Meade’s relief. Two birds with one stone!

As Donaghast, Yorick and Calgrot continued with their tasks, Moghash and Targoth trekked into the woods to locate the wolfsbane patch. As they closed in, Targoth detected the presence of deadly, carnivorous Xtabay plants. As he made his way around, he failed to notice the elder assassin vine living symbiotically with the Xtabays, and was quickly entangled. As he struggled with the vines, the Xtabays began launching spores into the air, creating a cloud of sleep poison. Although Moghash was able to finish off the creatures, he could not do so in time to save his friend. Targoth had perished!

Moghash gathers what was needed, creates a makeshift carrier for the departed ranger, and heads back to town.

The party meets back up outside the barracks near the town square, and Targoth is added to the victims in the morgue. Within minutes, the full moon appears, and a ragged, eerie howl echoes through the town.

While the adventurers discuss the situation, a crowd assembles, calling out for the captain of the guard to tell them what is going on. Yorick takes the opportunity and addresses the crowd, whipping them into a frenzy of fervor, while casting doubt on the character of his companions. As his other party members leave the scene, Yorick continues to admonish the crowd, which has now become a mob, and demands entry into the Town Hall to consult with Lord meade. After his meeting, Yorick returns to the mob and leads them off in the general direction of the Gypsy Run.

In the meantime, the party head to the residence of Antal Zsoldos, whose residence is in the artisan district. When they arrive, they come upon a grisly scene- the guards at the front doors have been slaughtered, and a female voice shrieks in fear somehwere inside the large home. They quickly charge in, and see that the woman has also been mauled to death, and Antal is surrounded by feral wolfhounds. The gypsy smuggler has been wounded several times, but is holding the canines at bay.

As they look around, the group sees a hulking half-man, half-wolf looking down at them from the grand staircase balcony! As the party engages the wolfhounds, the man-wolf retreats down a hallway, disappearing from sight. Battle ensues, and Calgrot is able to persuade one of the wolfhounds to leave off her attack using his gnomish bond with nature. The adventurers quickly dispatch the others, and continue their pursuit. In the heat of the chase, Antal slips off into the darkness and flees.

The party hurries upstairs, and they find a hidden trapdoor descending directly all the way down to the basement, and a series of smuggler’s tunnels dug under the town! They climb down, bringing Calgrot’s new canine friend along to help. 

 They continue the chase through the tunnels, and are surprised by a lurking ochre jelly and the centipede swarm that feeds off its leavings! The beast had run them into a trap!

After a tense battle, they continue along the trail, and emerge into an alleyway near the docks. Continuing to closely chase their elusive quarry across town, the adventurers navigate several obstacles- a collaapsed building, an overgrown thicket that was once a public garden, a crumbling section of the docks, and thence right smack dab into the middle Yorick’s hostile mob lingering in the middle of Mud Alley!

The mob of townsfolk panic at the sight of the were-creature, despite Yorick’s admonishments, and flee into the night without abandon, dropping torches and pitchforks where they lay. As the beast is surrounded, he snarls with hatred and tells them he will kill his lover Abbie March (!!), and then his own clan, but he will kill the adventurers first! Lycanthropic rage was consuming him, and there was no time to wait to administer the antidote!

A massive battle ensues, and the party manages to utilize Naissa’s ‘implements’ to slowly beat the werewolf down, though taking heavy damage in return. Sir Donaghast risks being torn limb from limb and engages the werewolf up close, managing to jam a sprig of wolfsbane down the creature’s throat.

Balint convulses in agony, and after several moments, reverts to human form, although it is clear that he is dying from the poison. Yorick steps in and neutralizes the poison with his divine magic, saving Balint once and for all.

Shortly after the conclusion of the mayhem, Madame Eva, Sandor and other members of the Meszaros clan emerge from the shadows to spirit Balin off to safety. As he is led off, Eva tells them he will have to leave Logash and never return, for any future investigation of the incidents using magic will detect Balint’s aura unless he is far, far away.

She tells them she are even now with their group, and suggests they communicate to Dame Abbie what has happened, and to soften the blow as best they can. With that, the Meszaros depart, and the party knows they will not visit Logash again for a very long time.

The Conjunction

TWO WEEKS AGO

The young priest extended the torch as far out in front of himself as he could.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you my friend?” Constable Dreng needled him.

Brother Markus looked sourly over his shoulder at the fallen paladin.

“Afraid of it, no,” he replied. “Just overly familiar with the things that dwell in it.”

The friends carefully picked their way through the depths of the emptied Black Edifice, coming eventually to the great, stone disc the adventurers had described to them.

Markus stepped up to the structure, holding his torch aloft. It was dark stone, perhaps twelve feet in diameter, and covered in runes and sigils etched deeply into the rock. In the center of the disc was a relief fashioned in the likeness of a great, thorny eye.

“Basalt,” he remarked. “Well, that is odd. These chambers were carved directly out of the limestone of the region’s rocky hills. This dark stone would have had to have been transported from the seashore. It’s quite some distance from there to here. Not an easy route, by any means, nor an easy task to come by such a large specimen.”

“As to the markings, I can not make them out, but with the blessing of the Whispering Wind, that will not impede us for long.”

Markus intoned the words of one of the strongest enchantments he knew, which would provide him with the gift of many tongues. As the divine spark took hold in him, the obscure markings began to take on an intelligible shape.

“Hmmmm,” Markus mumbled contemplatively as he began to read the runes. “Oh, ho!”

Dreng groaned at his friend’s exhortations.

“Every time you do that, something bad is about to happen!”

Markus smirked at the constable’s displeasure. “The moon is waxing,” he explained, “ and it is also nearly the time of the summer solstice.”

“What of it?”

“These runes predict that certain events occur at such times, as such times are sacred to something named He Who Dreams in Shadow. I have seen that very honorific referred to repeatedly in the goblinoid letters recently captured by our local adventurers. This Edifice must have once served as something like a shrine to this personage.”

Markus continued to read.

“The last conjunction of full moon and solstice would have occurred 68 years ago, so if this set of markings in the fashion of a calendar are to be believed,” he explained, pointing to various images and lines of script. “This complimentary set of runes here suggests that the last conjunction initiated a dormant phase, with the conjunction prior to that initiating an active phase. Fascinating . . .”

“Why is that fascinating?”

“Well, that cyclical pattern would suggest that the approaching conjunction would initiate another active phase.”

“Wonderful. What happens during an active phase?”

“Corruption,” he began, touching a series of runes in order. “Madness. Destruction.”

Destruction

The two friends felt the word suddenly reverberate in their minds just as the flame of Markus’ torch extinguished, leaving them in utter blackness.

Markus heard Dreng draw his greatsword from its sheath.

“Shirak,” the priest whispered into the dark, and a cool light burst from where he held his left hand aloft. With his right, he drew the mace from his belt and held it out at the ready. The priest and the fallen paladin stood back to back, peering out into the inky depth beyond the radius of Markus’ light spell.

“Remember how to use that thing?” Dreng needled him again, jabbing a thumb at Markus’ weapon.

Markus smiled at his friend’s jibe as the darkness pressed in on them.

ONE WEEK AGO

Ghaelvwynne  Swift Hands

“The weapon will not come alive in my hands . . . ,” Ghaelvwynne muttered darkly to herself, looking down at her family’s greatest heirloom. “By this time in their life, both my mother and sister had already bonded with Sadekeha.”

Sadekeha

“You are the heir of the Valinesti, Ghaele,” Lothlaeril the Runner reminded her. “Your time will come.”

Lothlaeril the Runner

She looked fondly at her lifemate. He was right, of course. And he always knew what to say to ease her troubled thoughts.

Even so, another concern lingered in her mind, which she had not spoken of with Lothlaeril. The sacred lands had been cleared, it was true, and Ghaele could tell that the land was already healing, but she could also sense that the healing was slowed, and that there was still some lingering corruption that would need further uprooting. As heirophant of her people, she would return with her fellow druids to perform more rituals to ensure the land was fully cleansed. First, however, she would need to know more about what they were dealing with.

The humans who had helped them had sent the corpses of the invading creatures back to the priest of their hometown of Hannsport for examination. She would need to do her own examination, as well.

Ghaelvwynne put her bow away amongst their traveling packs as the pair broke camp under the light of the growing moon. With their keen eyes, the elves moved about the clearing as if it had been mid day, rather than close to midnight. When they had finished their preparations, the stoic ranger looked to her once more.

“Now that our ancestral grounds are recovering, do we return to the deep wood to deal with the orc bands descending from the mountains?”

“I think not,” she replied, after a moment of thought. “At least not yet. With the events of recent days, I would first travel to Hannsport speak with its resident priest.”

THREE DAYS AGO

“My love, tomorrow my mother shall be laid to rest with our ancestors, and I do not know what will come next for me,” Abby March confessed, as she drew close to her paramour under the moonlit boughs of the March Estate gardens.

“Do not let these things trouble you for now, love,” he replied, pulling closer to her. “This is your time to grieve. Know that your aunt Jhessa is here to guide you in this time of sadness. And I am here for you, as well.”

“But you will not be there during the rites,” she replied. “Tomorrow is the first night of the full moon and the interment must then follow in the morning.”

“I cannot attend you then, as you know. It wounds me deeply, but my presence would not be tolerated by the upstanding citizens of Logash.”

As they huddled together under the night sky, the young lovers failed to mark the prying eyes that watched them enviously from the shadows.

Torren Skiff had come this night to March Manor to decide upon a final course of action, only to come upon the scene in the gardens between his object of affection and her lowborn lover. The insult to his status by such a thing was nearly incomprehensible. It appeared this night that the fates had decided for him what he must do.

He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a scrap of paper. On it was written a rare gypsy curse, purchased some time ago from a wretched creature belonging to the Zsoldos. On many a night while in a drunken stupor he had vacillated over whether to use it on the woman who had repeatedly made him look a fool.

And tonight was once again such a night.

The rage continued to build within him, further blurring his already impaired vision. Fumbling with the paper, he began whispering the words of the curse. The unworthy strumpet would pay for her treachery!

Swaying hazily in the dim, pale light, he quickly rushed through the foul text of the incantation. Perhaps, too quickly. At the final, complicated turn of phrase that was the climax of the curse, his alcohol-thickened tongue stumbled slightly over the words, sending a sharp, shivering chill through the core of his being as he felt the dark energy leap out from the scroll to the pair across the garden.

At that very moment, the young man began to become visibly ill. The young man! The gypsy curse had affected the wrong person! He had been robbed of his revenge! Damn their tinker eyes!

“My love, I do not know what has come over me, I-” the young man murmured, as he wretched convulsively into the nearby shrubbery. Breathing raggedly, he gasped out “I do not understand what is happening.”

Nearly a quarter hour passed, and his condition only worsened. With it now clear that the young man’s plight was not a fleeting malady, the lovers resolved to part ways.

“Go and seek relief from your people,” Dame Abby said to him in parting, “and I shall find you again on the morrow. Be well, my love.”

Both young men took leave of the garden, one to find some means of remedy, and one to sulk in the darkness, eager to find some means of revenge.

NOW

“My friends, let me begin by saying how fortuitous it is that you are here to lend your assistance to the good people of Logash in their time of need,” Lemminkainen Meade began his address to the small band of adventurers assembled in his office.

I think we have a problem,” Lord Meade explained solemnly, his voice tight. “On each of the last two nights, there have been a series of terrible incidents.”

“Although you have only been in Logash for a short time, your reputation as men of action precedes you, and I beseech you to come to our aid and bring a villain to justice!”

SESSION 6 - THE KNIGHT'S WAKE, Part 2

The following morning, the party assembled in the Great Hall and made their way upstairs to where the funeral was to be held in the Great Chapel of the Deep Umber.

Once the service got under way, Jhessa March moved the proceedings along smoothly. As the sun rose, morning light illuminated the large stained glass windows, signaling Jhessa to give the final prayer. She then bent over and kissed Astrid’s forehead. With the conclusion of the rites, she invited members of the gathering to come forward and give their remembrances while the high priestess would go to the crypt to complete preparations.

Abby was the last to speak, as was tradition, and as she gave her eulogy, Dame Astrid’s body suddenly rose up from where it lay! The knight’s body moaned in anguish and moved to attack Abby! The party leapt to action, and as general mayhem ensued, the fleeing congregants were met at the lone exit by a hoard of encroaching zombies. March Manor was under assault by the undead!

The adventurers barred to doors and managed to dispatch the mummy-Astrid before she could injure Dame Abby. After rallying the panicked crowd, the party fought and dodged their way through the zombie hoard, delivering several of the important personages safely to their quarters and clearing the zombie menace.

In the aftermath, the adventurers received notes from each of Annah Taskerhill, one from Naissa Mirian, and one from Torren Skiff, all asking to further discuss the evetns of the last few days. Each note requested a meeting with the party to discuss various matters.

The group split up to meet with Annah and Naissa, and deferred meeting with Torren. As they made their way to the meetings, Naissa and Emune were set upon by an assassin later identified by the paladin as a member of the Zsoldos gypsy clan (using the assassin’s bat tattoo as a telltale sign of affiliation). Both women had been badly poisoned by the assassin’s attacks, though Emune still fought on to protect her dying lover. As the party converged on the scene, they overwhelmed to killer and the pries was able to bring Naissa back from the brink.

As they contemplated the presence and purpose of the assassin, they realized they had not heard nor seen anything from Jhessa, who had gone off to the crypt earlier. They returned to Dame Abby, and reported their concern that Jhessa had somehow been involved the events of the past few hours.

The group set out for the crypt with Abby in the lead. When they arrived, they found Jhessa wounded and slumped against the doors of the crypt. The priestess claimed to have been attacked by undead and was too injured to return to the manor house.

Sensing that her story did not add up, the party moved to confront her. She leapt up and cursed them for interlopers and Abby as unworthy of her inheritance. At Jhessa’s command several skeletons and zombies crawled up out of the surrounding graves and attacked. Jhessa also pulled back the doors of the crypt, and several powerful undead champions burst forth to join in the fight.

A lengthy battle ensued, but in the end, the combined skill and might of the party was too much for Jhessa and her minions. As they finally brought the priestess down, she cursed them one final time, swearing that Abby’s rule over House March would be marked by its brevity and misfortune.

Upon the defeat of the renegade priestess, efforts were undertaken in the following days to re-inter the remains of those who had been torn from their rest, and Dame Astrid was, at last, laid to rest with her ancestors.

After being rewarded by Abby for their efforts, she asked them if they would be willing to safeguard her interests in Hillsreach as she worked to put the affairs of House March back into order in Logash. Having agreed to the request, and before they could depart, the adventurers received another, seperate request to meet Lemminkainen Meade, the lord of the town of Logash, who had just returned from business dealings in the capitol and who found himself in need of assistance with a significant problem within the town walls.

Campaign Notes #2

Like everybody starts out somewheres, and they do something, something gets done to them and it changes their life. That's called an arc. Where's my arc?

                                                                           - Christopher Moltisanti, The Sopranos, Season 1, Episode 8

So for the first time in many years, I planned a session that was supposed to be exclusively role playing. Yes, there would be lots of dice rolling, but the dice would only shade things one way or another. Success or failure would be ultimately be determined by the quality of the interactions the players themselves had with various NPCs.

And yes, it was true that I was, as Tuan put it, “clearly grading on a curve” in awarding situational bonuses to dice rolls based as much on a player’s effort as on their glibness. I know that some of the players are not as tuned in to the role playing parts of my campaigns as others are, but there is still a lot of entertainment for everyone to be had.

And everyone did a great job with it, and I think everyone had a good time. This past session was the most fun and satisfaction that I’ve had as a DM in a LONG time.

Although there was in fact also some combat despite my initial plan, it was necessary to add in for the reintroduction of the paladin. Of particular note is that the re-emergence of the paladin was inspired by the online character posts that Tuan had previously put up about his character-- his history as an orphan let me add in some twists and possibilities to my original story, like the connections with Mukli the outcast goblin and now the newly ‘orphaned’ Dame Abbie, which added depth to the campaign framework that I’d prepared. And the post concerning his lineal heritage played a part in his resurrection. Other seeds planted in those posts are already growing, and will soon spring forth! The point though is that with a rich enough character background, I am able to find story based devices to bring your character back if he or she dies, provided you are invested enough in the character to want to bring him/her back in the first place. Much more satisfying than trying to scrounge up the gold to buy a raise dead scroll!

And Erick and Scotty have also provided me with good background info over the length of the campaign for their characters. Some of Erick’s story arc has now come to light, and so his elven blood was what led me to change the March Abduction adventure so that it was the reclusive elves of the Valinesti clan and their sacred grounds that the party interacted with, rather than what I had originally designed. There will be more to come for the half-orc archer! And Scotty’s arc will start gaining momentum as well now that the party is in Logash, but I will say no more about that just yet!

So the more you can tell me about who your character is and what they want, then the more there will be that I can build into the story that will reward you the players. But as I’ve said before, if you just want to interact with the broader story without personalizing it in any way, I am firmly convinced you will still find this campaign entertaining!

Alas the poor sorcerer! Oh, man. I don’t mean to sound trite, but the interaction with Naissa and Emune wasa originally intended for Foose. Obviously. But as he is currently deployed to the arid and exotic lands of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, I could not simply let that NPC encounter go to waste! I figured that for Foose, if I hit a certain quotient of demons or undead or erotic encounters in the campaign there would be something in there for him to connect to whatever story arc he wanted for his character. But that is not to be, at least for now! And so, the young lovers have alighted upon Tim’s naive and curious gnome. You’re welcome!!

Lastly, in the next week or two, I will put up another post that will sort of let everyone know what else has been going in other parts of the campaign world since the paladin’s return from the undiscovered country, little stories foreshadowing events yet to unfold, such as:

What has become of Brother Markus and Constable Dreng since they set out to further explore the Black Edifice?

What conclusions have the elves of the Valinesti drawn from their recent reconnection to the outside world?

What secret does the young regent of Hillsreach keep closest to her heart?

The campaign will then resume in mid-July with the wake and funeral of Dame Astrid march.

Stay tuned, True Believers!