Here's a breakdown of the XP rewards from the second session. It was a short session, and there wasn't a lot of combat, though the group did cover a lot of ground and accomplished a fair bit.
Goblins: 81 XP total
Award for averting the lumbermen's attack on Magnolia & Petunia: 200 XP
Award for discovering the source of the goblin malediction: 750 XP
Bonuses: 250 XP
Total: 1,281 XP
Divided by four players at the session, result is 321 XP per player, plus any applicable bonuses due to ability scores.
No loot to divide, this time!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
outer reaches #2: spinning threads
Wherein the heroes make new friends in the Spiderwood, sample some tasty treats, and save some townsfolk from themselves.
Having come together again after a season of downtime, our heroes reconvene at The Gilded Goblet (this time, minus Kragh, who is off investigating the source of the goblin malediction) to discuss new plans.
After some discussion--spurred by rumors of lumbermen and townfolk who want to "burn the witches" out of the Spiderwood--the heroes decide that their own investigation is in order, if for no other reason than to save the lumbermen from a grisly end entirely of their own making. If they aren't witches, then the townsfolk aim to murder and if the they are, they're likely to be murdered in the attempt. Ultimately, the decision is made for the heroes to seek out these "witches," and to make their own judgment.
The Spiderwood is not nearly as ominous as rumored, though it is heavily populated by its namesake arachnids. Before striking into the wood, they meet with Ford--chief among the lumbermen antagonists who aim to confront the witches--to dissuade him from pursuing the task without further investigation. By virtue of the charisma of the heroes, they succeed in delaying the group--at the same time gaining maps to the forest trails, along with the location of the witches' hut.
The hut, situated in the middle of an unnatural clearing in the Spiderwood, is found in short order. In front of the hut is a bubbling cauldron, attended by a haggardly old woman who occasionally samples the contents of the cauldron with wooden spoon. Upon approaching the hag, her companion--a bubbly, gentle old woman--enters the conversation, and introductions are shared along with a tray of candied spiders, which everyone enjoys. Petunia and Magnolia are new to the area--they leave the source of their arrival, and of the hut & clearing, shrouded in mystery--and offer their help to investigate the goblins, claiming that to best do so, they need a live specimen.
Feeling that this is a task easily accomplished, the group leaves Petunia and Magnolia--only to find themselves shrouded in darkness, and that hours have passed outside of the clearing while they were only within a short while. Unable to explain the phenomenon, they leave the forest, passing by an iridescent trail of spider webs which seems to beckon the group further into the forest.
Following trails discovered previously by Granny and Kragh, the party heads to the barrens north of Riverside, to the last known location of goblin attacks. Knowing the goblins to be feral and vicious in their attacks, leaving the slaughtered and eaten corpses of their victims, Nash lays a trap for the goblins, which succeeds in drawing the attention of seven diseased goblin warriors.
By the virtue of Granny's forest magic and the shafts of the heroes, all but one of the goblins are defeated and the other is brought in due course back to the Spiderwood. Hoping to discern the nature of the seeming magical passage of time, the party splits to deliver the goblin--but this effort is fruitless. Is it some magic of the witches? Of the Spiderwood itself? Or is it some property of the candied spiders, eaten earlier?
Petunia, the haggardly witch, receives the goblin and, before anyone can react, unceremoniously dumps it into the cauldron, sampling the result. As a sign of good will, Granny also samples the "stew," and her stomach roils. Magnolia directs her to consume a tea of amaranth to soothe the ill feeling, and Petunia holds up her end of the bargain. She claims to have known the source of the problem all along--a foul, bubbling pit far to the north of Riverside--giving the party more clues as to the origin of the problem, if not much help as to actually remedy the problem.
The heroes make to part ways with the witches, and they offer their own task to the group, with promise of reward. They seek a bejeweled diadem, which apparently lies somewhere in the Spiderwood, and while sharing no information regarding the properties of the item, they express gratitude that the group may deliver information about the diadem, should they come across it. The group leaves on good terms, disappointed in that the temporal phenomenon does not happen again.
The party delays until night time, hoping to encounter the iridescent spiderwebs again--but are again disappointed. Not willing to give up quite so easily, the party investigates further and eventually Daisy--following a hunch about moonlight--uses her mirror to discover the strands, which the party follows to an old stone tomb, covered in shadows and overgrowth, deeper within the Spiderwood...
Having come together again after a season of downtime, our heroes reconvene at The Gilded Goblet (this time, minus Kragh, who is off investigating the source of the goblin malediction) to discuss new plans.
After some discussion--spurred by rumors of lumbermen and townfolk who want to "burn the witches" out of the Spiderwood--the heroes decide that their own investigation is in order, if for no other reason than to save the lumbermen from a grisly end entirely of their own making. If they aren't witches, then the townsfolk aim to murder and if the they are, they're likely to be murdered in the attempt. Ultimately, the decision is made for the heroes to seek out these "witches," and to make their own judgment.
The Spiderwood is not nearly as ominous as rumored, though it is heavily populated by its namesake arachnids. Before striking into the wood, they meet with Ford--chief among the lumbermen antagonists who aim to confront the witches--to dissuade him from pursuing the task without further investigation. By virtue of the charisma of the heroes, they succeed in delaying the group--at the same time gaining maps to the forest trails, along with the location of the witches' hut.
The hut, situated in the middle of an unnatural clearing in the Spiderwood, is found in short order. In front of the hut is a bubbling cauldron, attended by a haggardly old woman who occasionally samples the contents of the cauldron with wooden spoon. Upon approaching the hag, her companion--a bubbly, gentle old woman--enters the conversation, and introductions are shared along with a tray of candied spiders, which everyone enjoys. Petunia and Magnolia are new to the area--they leave the source of their arrival, and of the hut & clearing, shrouded in mystery--and offer their help to investigate the goblins, claiming that to best do so, they need a live specimen.
Feeling that this is a task easily accomplished, the group leaves Petunia and Magnolia--only to find themselves shrouded in darkness, and that hours have passed outside of the clearing while they were only within a short while. Unable to explain the phenomenon, they leave the forest, passing by an iridescent trail of spider webs which seems to beckon the group further into the forest.
Following trails discovered previously by Granny and Kragh, the party heads to the barrens north of Riverside, to the last known location of goblin attacks. Knowing the goblins to be feral and vicious in their attacks, leaving the slaughtered and eaten corpses of their victims, Nash lays a trap for the goblins, which succeeds in drawing the attention of seven diseased goblin warriors.
By the virtue of Granny's forest magic and the shafts of the heroes, all but one of the goblins are defeated and the other is brought in due course back to the Spiderwood. Hoping to discern the nature of the seeming magical passage of time, the party splits to deliver the goblin--but this effort is fruitless. Is it some magic of the witches? Of the Spiderwood itself? Or is it some property of the candied spiders, eaten earlier?
Petunia, the haggardly witch, receives the goblin and, before anyone can react, unceremoniously dumps it into the cauldron, sampling the result. As a sign of good will, Granny also samples the "stew," and her stomach roils. Magnolia directs her to consume a tea of amaranth to soothe the ill feeling, and Petunia holds up her end of the bargain. She claims to have known the source of the problem all along--a foul, bubbling pit far to the north of Riverside--giving the party more clues as to the origin of the problem, if not much help as to actually remedy the problem.
The heroes make to part ways with the witches, and they offer their own task to the group, with promise of reward. They seek a bejeweled diadem, which apparently lies somewhere in the Spiderwood, and while sharing no information regarding the properties of the item, they express gratitude that the group may deliver information about the diadem, should they come across it. The group leaves on good terms, disappointed in that the temporal phenomenon does not happen again.
The party delays until night time, hoping to encounter the iridescent spiderwebs again--but are again disappointed. Not willing to give up quite so easily, the party investigates further and eventually Daisy--following a hunch about moonlight--uses her mirror to discover the strands, which the party follows to an old stone tomb, covered in shadows and overgrowth, deeper within the Spiderwood...
Monday, March 24, 2014
in-character comments and replies
First, a general update. Things are going well with the newest addition to our family, Lucile, and I'm hoping to be able to host a game some time in the coming weeks. More on that as details become available.
Second, regarding in-character posts and comments. Several players have posted character backgrounds or stories, and I have provided XP rewards for this. I encourage anyone interested to submit their own!
Some have also replied in-character to some of my posts, and I've followed up to progress the story. In doing so, however, I have learned that players don't necessarily receive notifications of new comments, only new posts. So if you've responded to a post at any time in the past, please check in to see if I've managed a response. You can subscribe to each post, if you're interested, when leaving comments. I've tried to create interesting new story threads--whether or not these make it into the next session, or whether they're discarded is entirely up to you guys.
I'll send out a pre-session recap with any new developments resultant from the blog comments, so that you guys can decide on a course of action prior to the session.
Second, regarding in-character posts and comments. Several players have posted character backgrounds or stories, and I have provided XP rewards for this. I encourage anyone interested to submit their own!
Some have also replied in-character to some of my posts, and I've followed up to progress the story. In doing so, however, I have learned that players don't necessarily receive notifications of new comments, only new posts. So if you've responded to a post at any time in the past, please check in to see if I've managed a response. You can subscribe to each post, if you're interested, when leaving comments. I've tried to create interesting new story threads--whether or not these make it into the next session, or whether they're discarded is entirely up to you guys.
I'll send out a pre-session recap with any new developments resultant from the blog comments, so that you guys can decide on a course of action prior to the session.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
off topic: is that even possible?
My friend Matt & I both run games using older editions--Matt is currently running an ADnD 2nd Edition game set in Ravenloft, and I am running the Outer Reaches campaign using ADnD 1st Edition rules. From time to time, we get players who ask why we choose to run games using the rules that we do--aren't there newer editions or different game systems that do things better?
Without getting into an argument about which edition or tabletop RPG system is "best" (the answer is, of course, that it doesn't matter--playing RPGs with your friends is fun, regardless of what rules you use), it is worthwhile, in my opinion, to share insights that help explain the "why" when choosing a system for our games.
This post is a recap of one particularly memorable session, from an unnamed campaign I ran with Matt & Rich, ADnD 2nd Edition rules set in the Forgotten Realms, some time between 1998 and 2000. Their respective characters were Cadazcar Trelorn, a transmuter, and Erik Estrada, a warpriest of the god Tempus. It was a defining moment in the campaign, one of the coolest moments in gaming I've ever been a part of, and one of the reasons why ADnD 2nd Edition continues to speak to me, as a game master.
At this point in the campaign, Cadazcar and Erik were somewhere around 8th or 9th level, and we were a couple years into the game (having started at 2nd level). The characters were looking for someplace to establish roots--Erik had a small band of followers due to heroics in the city of Scornubel, Cadazcar was actively pursuing spell research--and the nearby ruins of Dragonspear Castle seemed the perfect place for a warpriest of Tempus to establish a stronghold. Erik had worked with a smith in Scornubel to craft a magical maul, a talisman of his faith to the war god, and this was to be the symbol upon which the new stronghold would be built--the name given the maul was Making Friends.
It bears mention that I was never overly generous in the distribution of magical items. Cadazcar had authored a unique spell or two and was in possession of a +3 dagger and a few scrolls. Erik had a suit of +2 chainmail, won from a battle with undead at the site of the Battle of the Bones, and his maul--which at this point, if I remember correctly, bore a simple +1 or +2 enchantment.
Dragonspear Castle, however, was not currently fit for habitation. A small band of priests, also followers of Tempus, resided therein. Their task was to keep a lid on demons that were coming through a breach in the tunnels below the castle--a task which Erik immediately took upon himself to help accomplish, dragging Cadazcar along with him. This was a common enough occurrence--the warpriest's zeal was the source of many plots throughout the campaign.
After some investigation in the ruins above ground, Cadazcar and Erik encountered a pair of demons--a cambion, which is essentially a cross between a dark elf and a demon, and an alu-fiend, a female demon with the appearance of an angel with feathered wings. Spells were slung and Making Friends brought to bear on the fiends, but the battle was not going well for the heroes--the fiends conjured spheres of darkness that could not be countered by Cadazcar, and the fiends had summoned lesser demons to the fray. The cambion was seemingly unaffected by the darkness, striking Erik several times from behind, rapidly depleting his health. Both suffered several wounds, Cadazcar was nearly out of spells that would contribute to the fight, and Erik was at the ends of his strength.
Suddenly, Matt (playing Cadazcar) remembered that he had a scroll that I had rewarded him very early on. He'd been holding on to it for a few levels, as the spell was well beyond his ability to cast. Hesitantly, Matt announced "I take out my scroll and cast Mordenkainen's Disjunction."
To those of you not familiar with the spell, this is a Big Deal. It's a 9th level spell, well beyond Cadazcar's ability to safely or reliably cast, and it essentially erases all magic within a certain radius. It doesn't just dispel spells or temporarily shut down magic items and affects like dispel magic--it undoes magic. It can even destroy artifacts, which are typically "throw it into the fires of Mount Doom" difficult to unmake. What this means in actual play likely varies from DM to DM, but here's how I ruled it...
"Is that even possible?" It was the only question I could come up with--all of us had pretty much forgotten about that scroll, it was actually rolled randomly off an encounter ages ago, and I don't think that anyone ever thought it would play such a big role in the campaign. We scrambled for rulebooks, calculated chances of disastrous failure (due to the power level of the spell, relative to Cadazcar's own level)--the chances of something really bad happening were high, 55% if I remember correctly. That, and I wasn't even sure what would happen IF the spell were cast successfully. The spell description is vague as to how it actually interacts with stuff like summoned creatures or creatures from another plane, leaving much to be decided by the DM. With little other recourse or hope of survival, however, the roll to cast the spell was made...successfully!
Decisions were made on the fly as to what the spell's resolution actually meant in play. I mean, it's a 9th Level Spell, so it should be awesome...right?
Almost instantly, there was an implosion of magical energy. Cadazcar's dagger and Erik's weapon and armor, including the maul Making Friends, which was a cornerstone to his identity, disintegrated. The spheres of darkness were dispelled, the lesser demons summoned by the cambion and alu-fiend banished...leaving the fiends themselves. I had no idea what to do with the spells effect, but it made sense at the time that it would force them back to their home plane, so that's what happened.
Completion of the spell left Erik & Cadazcar beaten, battered, and practically unarmed...but it worked. Their foes were driven off. The battle was over, and they would live to fight another day.
Without getting into an argument about which edition or tabletop RPG system is "best" (the answer is, of course, that it doesn't matter--playing RPGs with your friends is fun, regardless of what rules you use), it is worthwhile, in my opinion, to share insights that help explain the "why" when choosing a system for our games.
This post is a recap of one particularly memorable session, from an unnamed campaign I ran with Matt & Rich, ADnD 2nd Edition rules set in the Forgotten Realms, some time between 1998 and 2000. Their respective characters were Cadazcar Trelorn, a transmuter, and Erik Estrada, a warpriest of the god Tempus. It was a defining moment in the campaign, one of the coolest moments in gaming I've ever been a part of, and one of the reasons why ADnD 2nd Edition continues to speak to me, as a game master.
At this point in the campaign, Cadazcar and Erik were somewhere around 8th or 9th level, and we were a couple years into the game (having started at 2nd level). The characters were looking for someplace to establish roots--Erik had a small band of followers due to heroics in the city of Scornubel, Cadazcar was actively pursuing spell research--and the nearby ruins of Dragonspear Castle seemed the perfect place for a warpriest of Tempus to establish a stronghold. Erik had worked with a smith in Scornubel to craft a magical maul, a talisman of his faith to the war god, and this was to be the symbol upon which the new stronghold would be built--the name given the maul was Making Friends.
It bears mention that I was never overly generous in the distribution of magical items. Cadazcar had authored a unique spell or two and was in possession of a +3 dagger and a few scrolls. Erik had a suit of +2 chainmail, won from a battle with undead at the site of the Battle of the Bones, and his maul--which at this point, if I remember correctly, bore a simple +1 or +2 enchantment.
Dragonspear Castle, however, was not currently fit for habitation. A small band of priests, also followers of Tempus, resided therein. Their task was to keep a lid on demons that were coming through a breach in the tunnels below the castle--a task which Erik immediately took upon himself to help accomplish, dragging Cadazcar along with him. This was a common enough occurrence--the warpriest's zeal was the source of many plots throughout the campaign.
After some investigation in the ruins above ground, Cadazcar and Erik encountered a pair of demons--a cambion, which is essentially a cross between a dark elf and a demon, and an alu-fiend, a female demon with the appearance of an angel with feathered wings. Spells were slung and Making Friends brought to bear on the fiends, but the battle was not going well for the heroes--the fiends conjured spheres of darkness that could not be countered by Cadazcar, and the fiends had summoned lesser demons to the fray. The cambion was seemingly unaffected by the darkness, striking Erik several times from behind, rapidly depleting his health. Both suffered several wounds, Cadazcar was nearly out of spells that would contribute to the fight, and Erik was at the ends of his strength.
Suddenly, Matt (playing Cadazcar) remembered that he had a scroll that I had rewarded him very early on. He'd been holding on to it for a few levels, as the spell was well beyond his ability to cast. Hesitantly, Matt announced "I take out my scroll and cast Mordenkainen's Disjunction."
To those of you not familiar with the spell, this is a Big Deal. It's a 9th level spell, well beyond Cadazcar's ability to safely or reliably cast, and it essentially erases all magic within a certain radius. It doesn't just dispel spells or temporarily shut down magic items and affects like dispel magic--it undoes magic. It can even destroy artifacts, which are typically "throw it into the fires of Mount Doom" difficult to unmake. What this means in actual play likely varies from DM to DM, but here's how I ruled it...
"Is that even possible?" It was the only question I could come up with--all of us had pretty much forgotten about that scroll, it was actually rolled randomly off an encounter ages ago, and I don't think that anyone ever thought it would play such a big role in the campaign. We scrambled for rulebooks, calculated chances of disastrous failure (due to the power level of the spell, relative to Cadazcar's own level)--the chances of something really bad happening were high, 55% if I remember correctly. That, and I wasn't even sure what would happen IF the spell were cast successfully. The spell description is vague as to how it actually interacts with stuff like summoned creatures or creatures from another plane, leaving much to be decided by the DM. With little other recourse or hope of survival, however, the roll to cast the spell was made...successfully!
Decisions were made on the fly as to what the spell's resolution actually meant in play. I mean, it's a 9th Level Spell, so it should be awesome...right?
Almost instantly, there was an implosion of magical energy. Cadazcar's dagger and Erik's weapon and armor, including the maul Making Friends, which was a cornerstone to his identity, disintegrated. The spheres of darkness were dispelled, the lesser demons summoned by the cambion and alu-fiend banished...leaving the fiends themselves. I had no idea what to do with the spells effect, but it made sense at the time that it would force them back to their home plane, so that's what happened.
Completion of the spell left Erik & Cadazcar beaten, battered, and practically unarmed...but it worked. Their foes were driven off. The battle was over, and they would live to fight another day.
Monday, December 23, 2013
outer reaches rumors: trouble brewing
The taverns are abuzz with talk of the farmer Chadwick, and his findings in the Spiderwood.
The Spiderwood is a rather small, though dense forest to the south and west of Riverside. It takes its name from a native variety of small, green-gold spiders who spin elaborate, delicate webs. The venom of these spiders is known to be mildly toxic, though seldom fatal.
There are lumberers that work the wood, and several farmers who maintain large farms of root vegetables that benefit from excellent soil quality. One such farmer is Chadwick, famous for turnips of exceptional size and quality.
Chadwick has farmed the Spiderwood for a decade, living on a humble farmstead near the wood. He knows the forest trails well, and on a typical afternoon walk, he encountered something altogether surprising--a small grove of poplars in a ring, surrounding a dilapidated hut, in front of which boiled a huge black cauldron over an open flame.
Confident that he was neither lost, nor had the grove been there on walks past, Chadwick made to investigate the hut, but was confronted by a pair of hags who charged forth from the hut with cudgels, threatening to boil the skin from his back and, as Chadwick reports, still terrified from the encounter, "To turn me into a newt!" Gripped by fear that Chadwick insists was supernatural, he fled the grove.
Some of the townsfolk who live nearest the Spiderwood, especially a few lumberers who camp nearest Chadwicks farm, are concerned--hushed conversations of witches dominates the common rooms of taverns and homes, and there are rumors of folks planning to gather to "burn the witches out of the Spiderwood."
The Spiderwood is a rather small, though dense forest to the south and west of Riverside. It takes its name from a native variety of small, green-gold spiders who spin elaborate, delicate webs. The venom of these spiders is known to be mildly toxic, though seldom fatal.
There are lumberers that work the wood, and several farmers who maintain large farms of root vegetables that benefit from excellent soil quality. One such farmer is Chadwick, famous for turnips of exceptional size and quality.
Chadwick has farmed the Spiderwood for a decade, living on a humble farmstead near the wood. He knows the forest trails well, and on a typical afternoon walk, he encountered something altogether surprising--a small grove of poplars in a ring, surrounding a dilapidated hut, in front of which boiled a huge black cauldron over an open flame.
Confident that he was neither lost, nor had the grove been there on walks past, Chadwick made to investigate the hut, but was confronted by a pair of hags who charged forth from the hut with cudgels, threatening to boil the skin from his back and, as Chadwick reports, still terrified from the encounter, "To turn me into a newt!" Gripped by fear that Chadwick insists was supernatural, he fled the grove.
Some of the townsfolk who live nearest the Spiderwood, especially a few lumberers who camp nearest Chadwicks farm, are concerned--hushed conversations of witches dominates the common rooms of taverns and homes, and there are rumors of folks planning to gather to "burn the witches out of the Spiderwood."
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
nash: while you were farming
Donnel pushed back the thick brush with the end of his walking stick and worked his way through the thorny mass. It was already mid afternoon and he had found only fleeting passage marks of his fathers lost sheep. “The wretched creatures are probably rotting in the belly of a snape by now.” He cursed.
A sudden crash in the brush behind him sent Donnel leaping to one side, his long wooden staff poised to strike like a woodcutter's ax.
A man of medium build stumbled through the thicket, briers clinging to his clothes and enough red scratches on his face to question if he had recently had another disagreement with one of the many disgruntled barn cats back on the farmstead.
If the scratches hurt him, the man showed no realization of it. He just stared at Donnel with his dull eyes and his mouth locked in that same wit-less grin he always had.
“Henry!” The young man’s voice cracked, “what the crows are you doing here? You just about scared the life out of me.”
“Follow Donny, where’d he goes? Follow Donny, Henry knows!” The dim man chimed proudly.
“Pa send you? I told him I don’t need no help to find some crow begotten sheep,” Donnel began to protest, “but of all the hired hands, why did he have to send you? With all that crashing racket you make’n, you prolly sent every living thing running for the Green Hills.”
Donnel finished his rant uninterrupted by the witless man. One could never really tell if Henry understood much of what was said to him, or if he even heard it. His dull eyes always wandered, though he nodded his head in a steady rhythm of feigned understanding, his lips stretched in that same witless grin.
“Trees,” Henry responded, as if none of Donnels rant had even reached his ears.
“What?” Donnel started in frustration, “What about the trees? You afraid of the forest or somp-thin?”
“No.” Henry said with a hint of apprehension, “birds live in trees.”
“Birds?” Donnel was growing impatient. “We aint got time to be gawking at no birds in no forest. I need to find them sheep and head back home before supper.”
“What about those birds Donny?” Henry gestured above the treeline of the encroaching forest.
Donnel suddenly became aware of a distinct lack of sound around him. The thicket had become silent save a distant caw-cawing. Where one caw rang out a dozen more answered. Donnel forced himself to look up to see a black cloud of wings. “Crows…” Donnel whispered. His throat suddenly very dry.
The scavenger birds had amassed and were circling over the edge of the nearby forest.
Donny swallowed and tensed his stomach against a fear that washed over him. Where there were crows in mass, there was death. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run back to the safety of his families farmstead but he could not return empty handed. He had to bring something to his Pa about the sheep, even if it was news of their deaths.
The young man gritted his teeth and pushed nimbly forward through the brush, Henry clumsily crashing behind.
As they reached the edge of the briers, their senses were assaulted with what Donnel had feared most, death. A dozen or so sheep lay butchered at the edge of the forest. Their bodies and life-blood strewn among the trees in a grisly display of brutality. Limbs and entrails alike lay torn across the grass, the blood still seeping gently into the soil.
Donnel’s stomach lurched and his lunch escaped him in a sudden fit of vomit.
A crow called out nearby and Donnel looked up from his misery in time to see a set of sharp claws rake toward his face. Instinctively, the young man threw up his hands in defense. There was a red hot burn as the goblin tore a streak of flesh from Donnel’s forearm sending him falling backward into the carcass of a dead sheep. The creature shrieked in frustration and bounded toward the young farmer, fangs bared in feral rage.
Time seemed to slow down. Donnel could hear the crunch of each step the creature took on the forest floor. The creatures sickly looking maw was covered in blood that ran generously down its chin. Its skin was pock-marked and covered with ruptured sores and blisters. Two fingers were missing from its left hand, and several of its claws were broken in jagged edges. Donnels heart beat, violently pounding blood through his brain. Was this where he would die? Chasing runaway sheep? Mauled by this creature. His entrails strewn about the forest like the lambs before him? The creatures glazed eyes burned with hatred, pain, and rage as it dove for Donnels throat. That hideous face, those terrible claws, it was all too much. The young man closed his eyes and braced himself for the end.
But the end didn’t come.
There was a sickening hiss and wet thump.
Donnel looked up to see Henry standing over him, steel in hand, and the headless body of the goblin writhing at his feet.
“Stay down,” Henry whispered, and turned to give Donnel another one of his witless grins.
Nash stood over the young man, the dead goblin before him and three more of the creatures hissing and screaming nearby.
Nash took a deep breath, sized up the field, and the creatures charged.
At the last moment, Nash lept forward to meet them, his booted foot catching the first square in the face with a sick crunch. Nash twisted to the side mid-kick and dodge the second goblins clawed strike. He lashed out with his blade and cleaved the creatures arm from its body. Spinning, Nash flicked his wrist and a dagger blurred though the air to bury itself up to the hilt in the third creatures throat. The first goblin staggered back, clutching its face where its nose had been. Nash followed through the spin and in a blur of motion used the momentum to part the creatures head from its neck. The second creature raked wildly at Nash with its remaining arm but Nash ducked under the blow and swept the creatures legs from beneath it before driving his sword deep into the creatures heart.
Nash exhaled.
With a flick of his wrist, Nash removed the blood from his blade and the sword disappeared onto his person.
“How... Wha... What the? What the crows just happened?!” Donnel stammered, his mouth gaped open in dismay.
The dim witted farm hand turned back to Donnel with his same witless grin and blank look he always had. “Henry hungry,” He mumbled.
A sudden crash in the brush behind him sent Donnel leaping to one side, his long wooden staff poised to strike like a woodcutter's ax.
A man of medium build stumbled through the thicket, briers clinging to his clothes and enough red scratches on his face to question if he had recently had another disagreement with one of the many disgruntled barn cats back on the farmstead.
If the scratches hurt him, the man showed no realization of it. He just stared at Donnel with his dull eyes and his mouth locked in that same wit-less grin he always had.
“Henry!” The young man’s voice cracked, “what the crows are you doing here? You just about scared the life out of me.”
“Follow Donny, where’d he goes? Follow Donny, Henry knows!” The dim man chimed proudly.
“Pa send you? I told him I don’t need no help to find some crow begotten sheep,” Donnel began to protest, “but of all the hired hands, why did he have to send you? With all that crashing racket you make’n, you prolly sent every living thing running for the Green Hills.”
Donnel finished his rant uninterrupted by the witless man. One could never really tell if Henry understood much of what was said to him, or if he even heard it. His dull eyes always wandered, though he nodded his head in a steady rhythm of feigned understanding, his lips stretched in that same witless grin.
“Trees,” Henry responded, as if none of Donnels rant had even reached his ears.
“What?” Donnel started in frustration, “What about the trees? You afraid of the forest or somp-thin?”
“No.” Henry said with a hint of apprehension, “birds live in trees.”
“Birds?” Donnel was growing impatient. “We aint got time to be gawking at no birds in no forest. I need to find them sheep and head back home before supper.”
“What about those birds Donny?” Henry gestured above the treeline of the encroaching forest.
Donnel suddenly became aware of a distinct lack of sound around him. The thicket had become silent save a distant caw-cawing. Where one caw rang out a dozen more answered. Donnel forced himself to look up to see a black cloud of wings. “Crows…” Donnel whispered. His throat suddenly very dry.
The scavenger birds had amassed and were circling over the edge of the nearby forest.
Donny swallowed and tensed his stomach against a fear that washed over him. Where there were crows in mass, there was death. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run back to the safety of his families farmstead but he could not return empty handed. He had to bring something to his Pa about the sheep, even if it was news of their deaths.
The young man gritted his teeth and pushed nimbly forward through the brush, Henry clumsily crashing behind.
As they reached the edge of the briers, their senses were assaulted with what Donnel had feared most, death. A dozen or so sheep lay butchered at the edge of the forest. Their bodies and life-blood strewn among the trees in a grisly display of brutality. Limbs and entrails alike lay torn across the grass, the blood still seeping gently into the soil.
Donnel’s stomach lurched and his lunch escaped him in a sudden fit of vomit.
A crow called out nearby and Donnel looked up from his misery in time to see a set of sharp claws rake toward his face. Instinctively, the young man threw up his hands in defense. There was a red hot burn as the goblin tore a streak of flesh from Donnel’s forearm sending him falling backward into the carcass of a dead sheep. The creature shrieked in frustration and bounded toward the young farmer, fangs bared in feral rage.
Time seemed to slow down. Donnel could hear the crunch of each step the creature took on the forest floor. The creatures sickly looking maw was covered in blood that ran generously down its chin. Its skin was pock-marked and covered with ruptured sores and blisters. Two fingers were missing from its left hand, and several of its claws were broken in jagged edges. Donnels heart beat, violently pounding blood through his brain. Was this where he would die? Chasing runaway sheep? Mauled by this creature. His entrails strewn about the forest like the lambs before him? The creatures glazed eyes burned with hatred, pain, and rage as it dove for Donnels throat. That hideous face, those terrible claws, it was all too much. The young man closed his eyes and braced himself for the end.
But the end didn’t come.
There was a sickening hiss and wet thump.
Donnel looked up to see Henry standing over him, steel in hand, and the headless body of the goblin writhing at his feet.
“Stay down,” Henry whispered, and turned to give Donnel another one of his witless grins.
Nash stood over the young man, the dead goblin before him and three more of the creatures hissing and screaming nearby.
Nash took a deep breath, sized up the field, and the creatures charged.
At the last moment, Nash lept forward to meet them, his booted foot catching the first square in the face with a sick crunch. Nash twisted to the side mid-kick and dodge the second goblins clawed strike. He lashed out with his blade and cleaved the creatures arm from its body. Spinning, Nash flicked his wrist and a dagger blurred though the air to bury itself up to the hilt in the third creatures throat. The first goblin staggered back, clutching its face where its nose had been. Nash followed through the spin and in a blur of motion used the momentum to part the creatures head from its neck. The second creature raked wildly at Nash with its remaining arm but Nash ducked under the blow and swept the creatures legs from beneath it before driving his sword deep into the creatures heart.
Nash exhaled.
With a flick of his wrist, Nash removed the blood from his blade and the sword disappeared onto his person.
“How... Wha... What the? What the crows just happened?!” Donnel stammered, his mouth gaped open in dismay.
The dim witted farm hand turned back to Donnel with his same witless grin and blank look he always had. “Henry hungry,” He mumbled.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
outer reaches rumors: goblins!
Spring turns to Summer, Summer to Autumn, and and our companions find themselves at ends in Riverside...
Several months have passed since the Sowing and the adventures surrounding. The citizens of Riverside met the return of the companions with much celebration--having saved several of the crew and much of Holden's goods, they were rewarded as promised, and given places of honor during the numerous ceremonies and feasts of the Sowing.
Despite the successful resolution, a nagging interest tugged at the attentions of Granny and Kragh--that of the feral goblins encountered early in their journey. Begging some time to investigate the matter and further help the town, the companions settled in for some time, finding work and recreation among the town's common folk.
Several outlying farms suffered from ferocious attacks of goblins and their diseased hounds. In the aftermath of one such attack, a suspicion of Kragh and Granny was revealed to be true--all of the goblins seemed to suffer from some kind of skin rash, and showed signs of disease such as pox marks and cloudy, though blood-shot, eyes. It is unlike anything that anyone, including the town's healers and herbalists, have ever seen.
As Summer fades to Autumn, the occurrence of attacks, as well as their ferocity, only seems to increase--spurring the companions to act. Is there some evil presence at work, a fell leadership behind the goblin attacks? Is it just that the goblins themselves are raiding in preparation of Winter? Is there magic at work, or is it some sickness that has affected the goblins' behavior?
Bonus!
In preparation for the next session, and as an offer to earn some extra experience (even for those that might not make the session, or that have yet to join in), any character may contribute posts detailing how they've spent the past few months in Riverside, or how they may have investigated the matter of the goblins. I'll progress any sub-plots as necessary within the comments of the post, for questions and such.
As always, anyone who hasn't yet may also submit character backgrounds and descriptions.
I'm hoping to host the next session just prior to Christmas, perhaps Saturday, December 21st? Please let me know if you think you might be able to make it!
Several months have passed since the Sowing and the adventures surrounding. The citizens of Riverside met the return of the companions with much celebration--having saved several of the crew and much of Holden's goods, they were rewarded as promised, and given places of honor during the numerous ceremonies and feasts of the Sowing.
Despite the successful resolution, a nagging interest tugged at the attentions of Granny and Kragh--that of the feral goblins encountered early in their journey. Begging some time to investigate the matter and further help the town, the companions settled in for some time, finding work and recreation among the town's common folk.
Several outlying farms suffered from ferocious attacks of goblins and their diseased hounds. In the aftermath of one such attack, a suspicion of Kragh and Granny was revealed to be true--all of the goblins seemed to suffer from some kind of skin rash, and showed signs of disease such as pox marks and cloudy, though blood-shot, eyes. It is unlike anything that anyone, including the town's healers and herbalists, have ever seen.
As Summer fades to Autumn, the occurrence of attacks, as well as their ferocity, only seems to increase--spurring the companions to act. Is there some evil presence at work, a fell leadership behind the goblin attacks? Is it just that the goblins themselves are raiding in preparation of Winter? Is there magic at work, or is it some sickness that has affected the goblins' behavior?
Bonus!
In preparation for the next session, and as an offer to earn some extra experience (even for those that might not make the session, or that have yet to join in), any character may contribute posts detailing how they've spent the past few months in Riverside, or how they may have investigated the matter of the goblins. I'll progress any sub-plots as necessary within the comments of the post, for questions and such.
As always, anyone who hasn't yet may also submit character backgrounds and descriptions.
I'm hoping to host the next session just prior to Christmas, perhaps Saturday, December 21st? Please let me know if you think you might be able to make it!
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