Attronarch's Athenaeum

Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Ainsley	Human	Ranger level 1	An older gentleman with a groomed moustache and a wooden pipe in his mouth, covered in dark green cloak.
Aurella	Elf	Fighter level 1 / magic-user level 1	Exiled and chased out of her tree commune, she now wanders the Wilderlands.
Herbaecious Roncule	Human	Druid level 3	A sun tanned, grubby, dried-berry-looking fellow dressed in green cloak. Chews a large cigar.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	A slightly weathered looking elf with dull blonde hair and chiselled features. Seeks wealth and knowledge.
Ivor	Human	Cleric level 1	A young, soft-spoken worshipper of Umannah with thick black beard.
Kenso San	Human	Fighter level 2	An arrogant and self-assured sell-sword wandering Wilderlands to prove he can best anyone.
Tam o' Shanter	Human	Cleric level 4	A boisterous wine-lover of Losborst on a Great Crusade of the Grape.
Tarkus the Promising	Human	Cleric level 5	Follower of Bachontoi, God of Red Wisdom.
Volkard	Human	Ranger level 1	Bushy hobo from the wilderness.

Sweetrain 1st, Airday, to Sweetrain 10th, Spiritday

Adventurers conferred at length. What should they do? Ambros has been missing ever since the incident. Crus is not answering. The Spire of the Divine Grape is too intimidating.

Balarus the Quartermaster oversaw the procurement of supplies, ensuring there are ample rations, torches, and lamp oil stored in the company vault.

Finally, the adventurers decided to approach Sig of Dostrogoths, the current baron of Ironburg. Tarkus, Tam, Aurella, Ainsley, and Ivor went to the newly built longhouse. Sig, a former adventurer, eschews most of of the nonsensical practices of nobility. He cares little for status and is happy to speak with anyone settled in his domain.

“Well met cleric of Red Wisdom! How can I help you today?”

Adventurers found Sig, joined by Rupert Ironwill and Bertha, discussing something over a map of the region. Tarkus and Tam explained at length the dangerous spire they have been to—how it is ruled by an evil witch with a tavern that serves dead babies.

“A brave man know when he will be defeated and he will fight evil that he can defeat!” Tarkus offered.

“Indeed, wise words. What you shared does sound pretty messed up. Could you point the location on the map?”

“Right here...” Tam pointed.

“At the base of the mountain? And what forces have you encountered? How many? What kind? I see... Rupert, what do you think?”

“Such evil must be routed, there is no doubt. And there is no doubt that we have the right person, with the right resource to deal with it. Yes, our very own paladin of Tyr.” Ironwill retorted, with a smirk on his face.

Sig nodded sagely. “I see. So let it be. You heard Rupert, I bestow this upon Alaric and his men.”

“But we are his men! Are you giving us our man to help us?” Tam cried out.

“Yes.”

“Well. Do you want to drink to that?”

“Yes!” and Sig took a large gulp of wine offered to him by Tam.

At this moment the adventurers inquired if there is anything they can help with, other than going back to the nightmarish spire.

“Bertha and her scouts have been surveying the woods and hills for ruins and lairs. We are seeking old towers, keeps, and similar, that are sufficiently intact. We wish to reclaim several of those to establish a safe route to Hara. It is a long way, but a start.

Several of our hill patrols have encountered gangs of orcs. We believe they have recently arrived since we spotted them just this spring. They paint snake motifs on their shields and armours, and have a split tongue. My seers theorise that this is some sort of ritual mutilation. Well, I care little for that, but would appreciate them obliterated.

Perhaps that is something more suitable to your level?”

Indeed, the adventurers were overjoyed to learn about the presence of pathetic orcs they could slay. They planned a seven man expedition: Ainsley, Kenso, Tarkus, Volkard, Ivor, Aurella, and newly joined Herbaecious the Druid. The last one arrived to Ironburg only recently, feeling the call of a suffering marsh.

Sweetrain 11th, Airday

The party set out with first rays of sun. They followed the river downstream, skirting the hills. Then they hiked uphill north-east, following the stream. They reasoned that a large war-band of orcs would lair close to a significant water source.

As they went up, the stream went down, deep into the gorge. The rangers spent all day looking for tracks. Around evening Ainsley spotted a number of beast-men spoors indicating recent activity.

“How long until sunset?”

“An hour... Perhaps two...”

Adventurers follow the trail, which led them atop the bluffs looking down the gorge. It was easily a 300 yard drop, if not deeper. Ledges and gaping caves dotted the south side. More interestingly, a series of wooden catwalks connected the ledges. On the north side, which they were standing on, had but one noticeable ledge, further east.

Satisfied with their findings, they retreated and found a safe place to camp overnight. Aurella, Kenso, Herbaecious, and Ivor did not rest well.

Sweetrain 12th, Waterday

Without a visible crossing to the other side, the adventurers decided to test a winding path leading to the north-east ledge. It was a sharp descent with rocky ground, thick long trees with gnarly vines and roots, and plethora of brambles.

Herbaecious the Druid descended alone. He moved slow and steady, taking his time. The ground was unstable at moments, but he never lost his footing. The ledge extended for some hundred and fifty odd feet. At far west side a cave mouth opened up into a dark tunnel. He could sniff rank smell of body odour.

Druid returned to the party above him and reported. Mustering courage, adventurers descended one by one. They would wait for one person to reach the mid point before another would begin descent. That initially worked fine, but then Ivor slipped and sent two quite large rocks tumbling down. Kenso also fell, as did Tarkus, both of them triggering a rock slide. Luckily no one had been injured.

Volkard and Ainsley recognised the smell.

It was an ogre stank.

“But what about orcs? Can you smell them?!”

Ivor lit a lantern, and then they all entered the tunnel. It wasn't long until they reached a large, soiled stool in an alcove. And it wasn't long until the found the source of offensive smell. In fact, they were just around the next bend, sitting on their obese asses.

As adventurers discussed how to react, ogres stood up, fetched their clubs, and approached their fresh dinner. Due to their bulk, and adventurers keeping their position at the tunnel mouth, only two ogres could fight. Remaining three grunted and farted in the background.

In the first round several of the adventurers let out a volley. They all missed. Tarkus closed for melee, checking the advance of one beast-man. Ivor poured military oil and set it on fire, creating a firewall of sorts.

“Smite! Smite!” Tarkus yelled as he repeatedly smacked the ogre with his heavy mace. The beast returned the favour by striking him with a club. Aurella kept shooting into the melee sometime hitting the beasts, sometime her allies. Ainsley the Ranger took out his bastard sword and closed for melee. Herbaecious somehow ended up in melee by accident, but pulled out after being hit by the elf. Kenso filled in the gap, but was then almost killed by the same elf. At least she killed one ogre with an arrow to the forehead.

Ivor filled the gap left by Kenso. He called for smite in unison with Tarkus, and with their joined divinity the maced the ogre's head from both sides. Volkard slid into the melee as well. He cut one ogre real good, got smacked real good in return, so he retreated back.

From now on it was a chaotic skirmish, with everyone all mixed up. Kenso and Volkard were fleeing the melee, Ainsley was locked in a deadly duel with one ogre, Tarkus, Ivor, and Herbaecious were focusing on their beastman, Aurella was holding back, hesitant to shoot any more.

“AAAARGGGG!” the ogre bellowed, chasing Volkard straight through the burning flames. It flailed and missed the Ranger. The man dropped his bow, pulled out the sword once more, cut straight through the ankle, loping off the foot.

“Smite! Smi–UGH” Tarkus coughed blood as the ogre crushed his ribcage with a mighty blow. Herbaecious drove his ash spear straight through the creature's eye, leaving it dead.

“No!”

Ainsley collapsed to the ground, having caught club straight to the face. The ogre he fought was all carved up, but still standing. It was soon surrounded, with Ivor delivering the killing blow. The ranger survived—the man is tough as nails—but was currently in a world of pain.

The cave was splattered with blood. Smoke rolled out of the tunnel leading deeper into the cave. A smell of burned flesh lingered.

What will be battered and bruised adventurers do next? Will they dare to look around the corner? Or will they flee to seek respite?

Discuss at Dragonsfoot forum.

#Wilderlands #SessionReport

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