A special one-shot session to celebrate the fourth birthday of our Wilderlands campaign Conquering the Barbarian Altanis. Players created characters with 400 000 XP to take them to a version of S3 Expedition to Barrier Peaks, per their request. I was happy to oblige.

My Second Wish meme by Jan whom played Grimel and Bosso. No Roads Character Sheets of Basequin and Siora are by Dreadlord, whom also played those two characters. The Emperor's Trinket written by Lord Jubalon Flux whom played Kartoo Mon and Denzil Trubb.

Preparation notes: I actually used the version from Dungeons of Dread, which are digitally enchanced and cleaned up compared to the original tournament module. The handouts are much crisper for example. We played online, using Owlbear Rodeo. I loaded the maps from Jon Pintar, since they were the most accurate, albeit in a modern style. Let me know if you stumble upon B&W VTT-friendly maps. Magical items were randomly determined, with players using their XP as a budget to buy rolls. Trading between characters was allowed. Some players received additional notes for their characters.

Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Grimel	Human	Fighter level 10	Twin brother of Bosso.
Bosso	Human	Fighter level 10	Twin brother of Grimel.
Kartoo Mon	Armour	Demon level 9	Looks like Rick Astley in absolute black plate armour, painted with a yellow smiley face on the front.
Denzil Trubb	Human	Ranger level 9	Old, wiry, his remaining hair is gathered into long silver pony-tail. He is dressed in weathered gardening clothes and weirdly smells faintly of peppercorn sauce.
Corvus	Human	Fighter level 10	A dark haired, heavily scarred man. He is clearly powerful and walks with confidence.
Uncle So	Human	Monk level 9	Has a red nose from alcohol consumption, laughing eyes, long hair tied in a bun. He moves like a panther, a drunken one...
Racrion the Swordwisperer	Elf	Thief level 12	Black hair, fair skin, green eyes. Typical elf yet seems more aloof, or rather distracted, than usual as if talking to someone in his head. Obsessed with keeping his sword sharp and clean in its magnificent sheath, an exemplary sample of elven artistry.
Arakesh Elvenfriend	Human	Assassin level 11	A slim man, sunkissed with black wavy hair and a thin beard, delicate face features, soft spoken and polite. Nothing betrays his profession and he claims to be an explorer. Fluent in Elvish, gnome and halfling. At times appear to be very observant and of keen hearing.
Emperor Kho Rimbo	Human	Magic-User level 12	Emperor Kho Rimbo the Unifier has travelled back in time to save the future.
Glorpa	Human	Fighter level 10	40 years ago Glorpa killed a kobold and has never looked back since. Stubbled, grizzled and scarred.
Patriarch Basequin of the Lady	Human	Cleric level 9	A bearded fellow of serious disposition. The most notable thing about him is his intense stare, bright clerical vestments, and his shield painted with the Weeping Lady. He has a habit of shouting, “So the LAW be written!”
Siora Qiwarin	Half-elf	Fighter level 6 / magic-user level 6 / cleric level 4	A lithe half elf maiden. Recognisable by her flame fluted helm of brilliance, and her dazzlingly ice blue eyes. At the beginning of battle she is known to usher a prayer to the Lords of LAW and cause her broadsword to burst into flames. Due to this, many call her the flame maiden. She despises Dwarves.

The Emperor's Call

Hear ye, the chosen of his Highness, the World Emperor! You, yes you, have been chosen to be the agents of His Will, the Fist of His Might, the Eye of His Providence!

Deep in Altanian wilderness Emperor's spies reported a caved gated with metal disgorging monstrosities beyond what is known to Wilderlands. Those who entered never returned.

Now it is you who must go there, before the Incompetent Overlord learns of this too.

Your expedition must find out exactly what this cave is, what is causing the monsters to come forth, who is responsible, and how to prevent future incursions. In addition, any other information regarding this mysterious locale, its strange denizens, magical devices, or unusual weaponry is highly desirable.

His Highness, The World Emperor will reward you greatly, for his empire is vast, and there is always place for a loyal vassal who knows their place.

Failure will not be tolerated.

Begone.

The Emperor's Finest

A party of twelve battle-hardened adventurers spent three weeks traversing the Altanian mountain range until they found what they were looking for—some sort of large metal construction engulfed by rock. Two doors were before them, one absolutely massive at the foot of the rock, and one smaller, some hundred or two feet above.

Adventurers had nearly a hundred magical items between them. And yet, the doors has proven to be their greatest challenge thus far.

Who's Who?

Siora drank a potion of flying and scouted the surroundings. Racrion cast Knock from scroll. Arakesh drank a potion of ethereality. As he stepped through the lower doors he screamed, for he turned corporeal. He died in spot, one third of his body hanging from the doors facing the party.

Emperor Kho Rimbo the Unifier summoned a massive Earth Elemental and ordered it to beat down on the metal doors. An hour later the doors still stood. Luckily they had means to dispel the elemental. Finally, Denzil scaled the rocky outcropping and approached top doors. They slid open, revealing a twenty by ten feet chamber with another double doors. Everything was made of unfamiliar metal.

Three hours after they have arrived the party entered. Eleven of them stuffed inside, doors closing behind. Doors before the slid open.

Stale air mixed with stench of rotting vegetation assailed their adventurers' nostrils. Before them was a dark, large square chamber. An large cylinder with two slits dominated the center. Through it the could see far to the other side, for there were bright lights in the distance.

There were many single doors of smooth metal all around them. Each had a rectangular extrusion to the right with several smaller compartments. The smallest and topmost of them were always coloured—either violet or jet black.

The chamber was a sort of junction, with large corridors leading in each cardinal direction. The party fanned out, looking for clues.

“Over here!”

West tunnel had a pile of bones, rages, and husks amid which there was a shiny object. As few adventurers approached to rummage through the rubble, a giant manta ray befall them from the ceiling. It was obliterated by eight magic missiles, and savage swings from Grimel, Bosso, and Denzil.

Shiny object was violet piece of glass. It was sleek, with rounded edges.

Many doors lined the corridor ahead. Some were open, revealing their depressive innards. Despite the alien materials, it was obvious these were some sort of living quarters. Now they were tattered and housed nothing but skeletal remains of previous inhabitants. Some of the skeletons were in hugging positions, some were outstretched, clawing at the walls, and yet others were simply dispersed.

Adventurers followed the corridor, exploring the open rooms.

And then turned into a moss-covered corridor. At the end of it four bipedal, fungal creatures stared at them. Adventurers did not wait for response—they charged. What they failed to realise is that this corridor was lined with rooms, housing many more of these creatures.

Free-for-all skirmish ensued. Barbarian brothers, Grimel and Bosso, each took one room to clean. Other fighters went in pairs. Kho-Rimbo, Uncle So, Basequin and Kartoo Mon fought in the corridor.

Warriors were making short work of vegetable-based monsters. The creatures were resilient, but otherwise no match for the adventurers. Amongst them were dog-like creatures made of thorns. They too were no match for the warriors, but did rip Kho Rimbo to shreds, saved only by intervention of others.

Basequin caste Speak with Plants in an effort to parley with survivors. He wished to extract information that would be useful to his mission. Alas, as he did so, Kartoo Mon, the sentient demonic armour, flashed him subtly with the Scarab of Insanity. The cleric went crazy, not even knowing what is going on.

Suddenly everything exploded! Most of the plantmen were incinerated. Most of the adventurers were signed but alive. The same couldn't be said about their belongings.

Standing triumphant among the remains of nearly thirty plantmen, adventurers began to rummage through the rubble. Another explosion!

That did not last long for soon there were dozens of vegemen attack from all directions! Doors swung open, corridors filled, and vegetables were everywhere.

Kho Rimbo cast lightning bolt. It did nothing. He was promptly torn to shreds by a pack of thorndogs. His death was slow and painful. Bosso wished him back to life.

Adventurers concentrated in the corridor, slaying plantmen in droves. Barbarian brothers were singing with glee. They pushed forth and forth, until there were none but men standing.

“Khm, khm.” Kartoo Mon coughed.

Everyone looked at him.

He presented his Scarab of Insanity.

And everyone descended into murderous rage.

Everyone but Racrion.

Luckily for them, Basequin and Siora were still rummaging through a chamber at the end of the corridor, so they did not witness the madness inducing scarab.

They did witness the madness it induced.

Brother slaying brother.

Corvus turning on Glorpa.

Uncle So stumbling and slapping everyone around him.

Denzil cleaving Kho Rimbo.

Racrion, amidst the madness, gulped down the potion of invisibility. He threw himself to the ground and crawled towards Siora, the only sane one amongst the crew.

Karto Mon laughed as he chucked firebaubbles around, causing explosion after explosion.

Bosso bellowed out at the realisation of having murdered his own twin brother. His heart exploded, but not before he made his final wish.

Meme by Jan.

“I WISH FOR THE AIR TO BE SUCKED OUT OF THIS PLACE!”

The smiley on Karto Mon's vantablack armour wept crimson blood.

Racrion and Siora forced Basequin to follow them, practically carrying him out.

They ran as their allies hacked each other to pieces.

They ran as explosions echoed behind them.

They ran as everything turned quiet.

They ran as oxygen became scarce.

They ran until they were out.

Character sheets and illustrations by Dreadlord.

The Emperor's Trinket

I am VERY VERY ANGRY!

I am forced to lie on the floor with the rancid, decaying body of my meatpuppet, putrefying inside my cavity. How I, the Bulwark of Gommorath and vassal-armour of the dread lord Shah Drong Dirkahl, came to this state is a tale of the perfidy of the meatbags.

I was charged with ensuring none survived their expedition into the Barrier Peaks. For three weeks I had to endure being carried among them, with their disgusting, slow passing of liquids and solids from the tops of their bodies, and out again at the lower part, filthy beings all.

We arrived at a massive tower of rock encrusted metal, a huge door large enough for one of my Lord’s flame elephants to pass through was before us, and a smaller one higher up visible from the ground. The meatbags pounded and shouted at the door, one tried to go through it by becoming a meat-ghost, only to be killed halfway through, I gave a hearty laugh at this, my task was being made easy by their own failure!

Eventually we entered through the upper door, and they began exploring; all was made of metal inside, including a round tunnel going vertically, which they ignored. I had my meatbag carry me, ensuring that we lagged behind, until I took a chance to cast a Finger of Death at their half-elf know it-all multiclasser, the shitty little she-beast shrugged it off, oh how I hate biologicals!

Onwards they shuffled, with their huffing and puffing of breath, until a strange flat monster dropped from the ceiling onto the vanguard. Sadly, it was weak and presented no real opportunity to ‘help it in its endeavours’.

Further on they discovered rooms of plant beings, humanoid and canine looking, almost as depressing as the meat versions that I was stuck with. Soon a meat and two-veg fight ensued. After a while I found my self alone with just their main cleric, and I introduced him to my little friend, the Scarab of Insanity! Much hilarity ensued as he gleefully leapt onto the brambly-monstrosities besetting my meatbag and gave them a painful hug.

The other meatbags were putting their veggies away heartily so there was no time for much subtlety. On the pretext of panic, I got my meatbag to throw a firebauble into the melee. There was swearing, but they were otherwise blissfully unaware of my true intent of wearing them down.

The fight was soon over and they insisted on pressing on. Many of them were weakened, and I reasoned Go Big or Go Back To Hell, so when the majority were gathered together, I got my meatbag to hold aloft the scarab once again, and marvellous pandemonium ensued, there was wailing, there was brother killing brother, it was glorious, until it wasn’t. One brother with his dying words cried out a wish that the very air desert the place, and I felt my meatbag’s life force begin crumpling inside me, as those around me did. As he collapsed I could just see some of the party who had been back the way, outside the mirth-circle generated by the scarab, disappear around a corner, and then I heard them find an exit which then promptly closed again. And then, all the meat was still and dead, so too not all bad on balance.

Oh how I hope a new meatbag finds me and I can carry on in my Lord’s Service, then I can truly live up to the demon-vassal creed of, “Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!”

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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A special one-shot session to celebrate third birthday of our Wilderlands campaign Conquering the Barbarian Altanis. Players controlled a set of characters whom were tricked into being he first ones to open the mythical Red Gates of Chudengora.

Denril’s Tale of Chudengora written by Kublaibenzine whom played Amril the Clumsy and Denril Lighttoes. Crumpled Scroll by Akragon of Apollo courtesy of Theo whom played Akragon and Erevos.

Adventurers

Character	Class	Description
Amril the Clumsy	Dwarf level 1	Short and stocky dwarf. Been around for some time. Impressive mental fortitude but two left feet.
Denril Lighttoes	Elf level 1	Malnourshied, weak and weedy elf with no muscle and constant chest problems. Dreams of adventuring, but no one wants him.
Inlissior	Elf level 1	A dwarfish-looking elf. Handsome and blessed with fake-looking beard. Weak cough plagues him.
Bullon	Dwarf level 1	An elvish-looking dwarf. Dashing and attractive.
Akragon	Cleric level 1	Tall, well-built, plague survivor. Devout.
Erevos	Thief level 1	Dark haired and dark eyed lanky and wiry thief of quick reflexes and wit. Enjoys civilisation.

Denril’s Tale of Chudengora

The Gods alone knew how we reached the top of Bludgeon Peak, but there ahead of us was the long staircase leading to Chudengora. Our employer must have been desperate to hire a bunch of raw adventurers such as ourselves, or he figured our low salaries were worth paying on the off-hand chance we would find the Red Gates open.

Well, we proved him wrong and some of us even made it out.

The gates were wide open and we entered the antechamber of this fastness, full of awe and pride. The floor was some kind of elven concrete, the scale was a bit underwhelming, yet our attention was captured by 6 statues, 5 male and one female, clearly deities. Oddly, the male statues had clearly been decapitated cleanly and swapped around. They were all bearded, arrogant looking beings. Our Cleric recognized one as representing Medicine, while the others could be guessed at as Death, War, Craftsmanship and Justice. The female was unknown, haughty looking in her peasant robe.

There were 3 single doors and one double door, all leading to the unknow and all made of fine, iron-bound wood. We scattered to listen for sounds beyond the doors. It was perhaps unwise of us.

Erevos was the first of us to fall, as half a dozen fire beetles burst through the northern door. Within seconds he was neatly severed in two. Amril the Clumsy fell next, hacking at the beasts. Typically, he tripped over his feet and the beetle just gored him.

We survivors fled through the open northern door while the beetles feasted on the corpses. The room had old weapons racks and rudimentary tables in it, all damaged by time. There was but one exit, East, so we took it and closed the door behind us.

We were in a long corridor with a door at the end as well as a junction south. We opened the door to discover a small room full of crates caked in the dust of ages. As we sneezed and coughed in fits, 13 giant rats came down the corridor at us. We closed the door, Akragos the Cleric throwing a vial of burning oil as we did so. Inlission still took a mild bite in the process. When we opened the door again, the vermin were dead or gone and we hastened south without exploring the crates, for fear more would show up.

We soon reached a 4-way intersection. The western side held a door, which opened onto what might have been a reception hall, all ruined now. On the opposite side was a door, which we estimated led back into the antechamber.

Backing out and going west, we entered a circular room. There were 5 masks on the wall and a spot where a sixth had once rested. Seated beneath that spot was a decayed skeleton in antique chain. A corridor exited the room on the east side. We took it and found a north south corridor. To the north we immediately found an iron door, which we were unable to open.

We then went south, taking the first corridor to the west, entering an irregular, almost T shaped space that contained empty bookshelves and two more exits to the west. We suspected the upper west exit led to the north and back towards our entry point.

We doubled back to the corridor and found a southern facing door which led to a dead-end room. This contained a damaged altar dedicated to War and half a dozen large sconces, each containing a skeleton with an odd metallic sheen. We backed out hastily and went back to the irregular bookshelf room.

Here we took the southernmost corridor running west, which soon turned south and ended at another door. Opening this, we were confronted by an overwhelming stench and the sight of old carpets and furniture overgrown by orange mould. Fearing the worst, Bullon tossed a flaming vial in and closed the door for a few minutes.

Re-opening the door did not reveal anything moving, so we hastened across the room to a southern door. This gave on to what appeared to be a large 20-foot-wide corridor running east and west, with a double door nearby going east and a single door south.

The double door east gave on to a large circular room that might have once been barracks. A corridor led north from it into a room full of crates, less dusty than the other batch.

Back in the east west corridor, we tried the south door. It was a room with detritus and parts of 4 skeletons. A corrido ran east from it. We heard echoing voices in the room and uncertain of what it meant, we did not explore here further, but closed the door again and went west down the wide corridor.

We soon noticed another door giving south. Entering it we beheld a long, wide steel reinforced oak table covered in multi-coloured stains. The walls had iron shelves, also stained. The ground was strewn with broken vials and coloured oozes. The smell of rot and acid pervaded. We entered anyways. There were two doors herein. An eastern door led to a small library full of rotting tomes. Exploring for a few minutes we found a book of ancient lore, a map of an area completely unknown to any of us and some odd elvish book of games with their rules. We left all and went back into the alchemical room to try the south door. This gave onto another storage room full of crates and a door leading south, which we could not open.

Again, we backed up to the large east-west corridor and went west. It led us to a very large circular four-way intersection with a statue holding a trident – the head was again one that didn’t match the body. Realizing that the northern corridor led back to the antechamber, we headed in that direction, stopping only to explore the first door on the west. This gave onto a dog leg shaped room with two exits. The table therein seemed to contain playing pieces similar to those mentioned in the book on elven games. We backed out and resumed our journey north, ignoring a door on the east side.

When we reached the double doors that we estimated must lead to the antechamber, we opened them with great trepidation. We were lucky and left through the main entrance to take the news the news of our findings to our employer.

We were pleased to be alive, proud of what we had done, but sad about our two lost friends.

Crumpled Scroll by Akragon of Apollo

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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Background

I ran an OD&D one-shot at the local gaming club for a group of players that were willing to give older ruleset a try. Three players rolled two characters, and one player rolled three.

Character creation took around 30 minutes, and the game session took around three hours. We played legendary Caverns of Thracia. Everybody quickly picked-up the rules and the game flowed smoothly.

See end of the post for more on preparation.

Adventurers

In alphabetic order:

Character	Class	Alignment
Andre the Pious	Fighting-Man	Lawful
Bojan Bakrovic	Fighting-Dwarf	Neutral
Catalina	Magic-User	Chaotic
Clarisa	Cleric	Lawful
Keith	Cleric	Lawful
Lindon	Cleric	Lawful
Serene	Fighting-Elf	Neutral
Wilhelm Popovic	Cleric	Lawful
Xander	Magic-User	Neutral

One sunny day in the Barbarian Altanis

Adventuring party of nine finally found the fabled Lost City of Thracia. For the past day they've been trawling through lizard-men infested swamp. Most trawled waist-deep; Bojan had to do so at nipple-height.

The party approached the ruins from the west side, exiting the swamp southwards. Carefully inspecting the closest ruined building revealed little of interest. The largest building, what once used to be a temple, dominated the vista. Alas, it had no visible egresses sans the breakage in the walls caused by overgrowth.

Lindon, secured with rope and held steadfast by Wilhelm and Bojan, approached a dilapidated well and peered down. A lone torch burned at the bottom of the deep hole. The dwarf estimated the depth to be between 60 and 100 feet.

Scuttling alongside the temple wall, adventurers proceeded north, investigating their surrounding. Andre the Pious, or the Tenfoot Pole Bearer, led the way tapping and checking for traps. He was asked to inspect the largest crack in the wall, which he was happy to do.

Climbing up the tree trunk allowed him to peek into the ruined temple. Lo and behold, a staircase leading into darkness was visible. Just like four hyena-headed humanoids. Andre dropped back, and the party formed battle ranks by the fissure.

Two gnolls emerged and clashed against the front rank. One of the hairy beasts swung its mighty battle axe, landing it straight between Keith's ears. His head burst like an overripe watermelon. Clarisa the Cleric soon suffered a similar grisly fate.

Bojan and Lindon revenged them in quick succession, murdering two gnolls. A brief exchange of blows ensued with the surviving gnolls, which soon gave up and fled, leaving a bloody trail leading down the stairs.

“Chase them!”

“Wait! My mule!”

Catalina stayed behind, trying to get the mule to climb the tree trunk and enter the ruined temple. Others gave chase and followed the gnolls underground.

Lighting a lantern revealed a large chamber filled with rubble and debrief. Everything was caked with faeces of varying dryness. Blood trail led east. Up north were large double doors, ajar. To the west was a dead end, and to the east a corridor. Looking up, the dwarf spotted hundreds of bats—source of brown material coating the floor, no doubt.

“Let's slow down.”

Adventurers continued their pursuit, albeit now proceeding carefully, tapping the ground with the ten foot pole. A turn, and a turn, and then another turn, and then yet another! But this time, there were closed doors, and blood led to them.

“I have a plan.” Bojan announced whilst taking out his trust iron pitons. Then he knelt by the doors and begun hammering them in, one by one.

Andre watched guard over the north corridor. Alas, he was taken by surprisingly ferocious charge of four gnolls lead by a squat man with doberman head. Wilhelm reinforced the fighter, checking the beastmens' charge. Alas, that spelled doom for the cleric and soon he was nothing but bloody mess.

“Look how pathetic they are! Capture them all!” dog-man barked at the gnolls. One of the adventures understood him, and promptly conveyed the message to others.

Partially spiked doors were constantly banged on; as if something or someone is trying to force the open. Adventurers kept hammering in pitons, preventing the doors from being forced open.

Focusing the efforts on the dog-man soon produced results. The beast was a great swordsman, but it could not withstand adventurers' superior skills. Andre's blow forced the monster to the ground. Bojan ensured it dies an agonising death by brutally severing one of its limbs.

At this moment the party obviously had an upper hand. They rallied and pressed on against four gnolls, slaying two. Remaining two fled down the long corridor. Lindon beheaded the dog-man's corpse and left it in front of the spiked door. Just so beastmen know who they are dealing with.

Once again the party gave chase, but soon gave up after running down several hundred feet long corridor slopping downwards.

“Let's go back and check the double doors?”

“Sounds good.”

Spiked doors were still jammed shut; the captives were still banging to get out.

Passing through the double doors revealed a thirty feet wide, long corridor. Two lines of columns ran along, derelict but still structural sound. Andre ran up to fetch Catalina. The rest pushed on, finding a fissure in the corridor.

Bojan took a look; it was deep, but too scraggy for anything human to climb up. Further north was a pile of rubble flanked by two doors. Left were shut, right were slightly ajar.

Serene took a look.

Two yellowish reptilian eyes looked back at her.

The doors swung open.

Two naked lizardmen with clubs greeted the party.

Behind them was another lizardman tending to a wounded one on the ground.

The elf was knocked unconscious in a single blow.

The lizards grabbed her body and begun to drag her into the chamber. Andre tried to shut the doors, but left that and tried to wrestle Serene's body instead. Alas, lizardmen were stronger.

“Onwards!”

Party forced their way into the room and total chaos ensued.

Bojan was brutally mauled. He collapsed to the ground, with severe headache. The only thing that saved his life was his amazing greathelm. With last ounces of strength he crawled to his crossbow and fired it.

He missed.

Xander the Magic-User suffered traumatic brain injury, courtesy of yet another club wielding lizardman. He lied prostrate.

Andre the Pious delivered the killing blow to the biggest of four lizardmen. But there was no celebration to be had. Catalina gasped as spear was driven through her abdomen. She collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

“Get out! Run!”

Andre yelled at Lindon.

Cleric nodded, and withdrew from the chamber.

Andre took lit a torch.

Then he smashed an oil flask upon the backpack of his fallen comrade.

He knew damn well that backpack was full of flammable flasks.

And then he hit it, hard, with a burning torch.

Lindon could see a ball of fire blowing out of the chamber.

Silence and smell of burn flesh followed.

Turning around, the cleric opened the west doors.

An abandoned chapel.

A long ruined statue of unknown god.

Lindon said a silent prayer.

And then he got the fuck out of the dungeon.

Preparation notes

I decided to used just the little brown books since they have less rules. Since I didn't want to be the bottle neck (e.g. have players wait for me while I'm explaining something to another player), I prepared a series of player facing reference sheets:

• one for each class (Fighting-Man, Magic-User, Cleric)
• one-page for races
• equipment
• character creation steps
• ability score summary
• character sheets

I also printed original reference sheets for myself:

Player sheets were well used during the game, and everyone was able to quickly make several characters. I did not used Judge facing reference sheets, since I apparently remember more rules than I was aware of.

For The Caverns of Thracia I (1) prerolled four encounters for first two levels, (2) prerolled % if someone is somewhere for ground and first level, and (3) wrote down 20 rumours on pieces of paper to hand out.

I also noted vertical connection on my maps. There was no need extensively prepare, since the party can't delve too deep in one three hour session anyway. I did reduce monster hit points, though, since they were obviously rolled with Supplement I and variable HD. So I reduced everything to uniform d6 HD.

That was it, an hour or so of prep.

Final words

The session was enjoyable, and players did great for their first foray into Thracia. Great future awaits Lindon, no doubts about that.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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Session judged by myself, report written by Sleazy B, player who controled Serga in this session. He usually plays Eccy Throi in the Conquering the Barbarian Altanis campaign.

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The Party

• Serga Ulmus, a half-orc cleric on a mission to retrieve his forefathers relic which will allow him to rule orc clans.
• Gobanneu, a goblin bodyguard in the service of Serga.
• Uglamm the Wretched, a foul warlock wearing black cloak and a goat horned circlet..
• Mavious Blarv, Uglamm's apprentice.

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HEAR THIS, the age of Serga is upon us! I, Uglamm the Wretched, have been tasked with the glorious honor of chronicling his tale.

It was the retrieval of Alkarg, the Elf-Destroyer, that brought this age to ripeness. I was honored to be among those tasked with delving into the lost citadel of Alhurmus, the bastion of his revered ancestor Mondru IV (may Gruumsh glorify his name!), and there to combat the many traps and deadly beasts. Yet it was through Serga’s strength that we were victorious!

Be it remembered that the numerous clever traps of Mondru’s fortress felled brave orcs who gave their life for Serga! And it was their blood that stoked the fire of Serga’s resolve. The halls of the fortress were lined with statues of the honored dead, and trophies torn bloodily from the hands of slaughtered elf-kind. And each of them seemed to bow and cheer “Serga!” as he passed. Enshrined among the great halls were heroes of old, and their treasures, and they too looked upon their descendant with admiration and respect. For Serga is the chosen of Gruumsh!

Let the name of the vile lycanthrope who defiled those hallowed halls be forgotten, only the glory of Serga remains. Through violence and treachery, many of Serga’s servants were slain. So it was that only his brother Baktar, and his servants Durz and Nogurgh survived to accompany Serga to the lowest level of the fortress, where resided the Bane of Elves. How beautiful were those lower halls which glorified Gruumsh! And yet, even here, the brilliance of Mondru’s defenses cost incautious Durz his life. There were many riddles there, engraved upon black iron gates. And yet, for one as clever in words as Serga there was nothing hidden! For he was wise in the written form. Cautiously did he, his brother, and his servant enter to that final chamber. And yet seeing the prize in front of him, the Elf-Destroyer, Serga strode forward bravely. And the honored dead that lined the hall there were glad to see him, and they proferred to him the spear itself which he had sought.

The three heroes rose victorious through the labyrinth to where they had entered into the fortress, and where awaited Serga and Baktar’s father Thaagwa, who had taught Serga the ways of Gruumsh, and his retinue of brave Orcs. Yet when they entered into the plain air they discovered treachery! A band of men, led by hateful elves, had put to the sword Serga’s faithful followers, and even his father (though his father lived just long enough to see his son emerge).

Seeing this evil before him, and the blood spilled by those that would oppose him, there rose in Serga a righteous fury. And he strode into the field, glowing a brilliant red, a sign of his hatred for the treacherous elves! There he did battle with those villains, I saw it with my own eyes! He slew them to the last one. And though Baktra and Nogurgh could not withstand the hateful violence of the elves, Serga emerged, all drenched in the blood of his enemies. Let it be known! All who oppose the chosen of Gruumsh will find only destruction.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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Session judged and report written by Moss Knight, the player of legendary Brother Kallahan from Conquering the Barbarian Altanis.

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The Party

• Fra 'Fingers' Vincensini, a nimble and resourceful cleric.
• Elmenor Goldlight, a quite rich and noble looking elf clad in heavy armor.
• Grudge, a weedy-looking thief, no doubt full of mischief.
• Marco Tuti, a more-brawn-than-brain fighter with bravery and blood alcohol to spare.

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There stood our brave upstarts, in the middle of the starry night, under the canopy of the enormous tree. Everyone around here knew to stay away from the great Oak and the surrounding glade, where time seems to stand still; but not our merry band. They were out for riches and adventure and surely, they thought, here they would find at least one of these.

Examining the vast network of roots at its foot, being almost as wide as the canopy itself, Fra quickly found a three-foot wide opening into the earth. Looking into it with a torch, they noticed a twenty-foot drop down to a sandy floor, with rough and wet roots serving as the natural rungs of a ladder, along the sides of the pit. Descending with the help of a quickly attached rope, they started examining the ensuing corridor, Elmenor scouting ahead with his infravision. The corridor came to a fork, with one branch going north, from which a distant rushing sound came, as of wind or water; the other going east, from whence came a faint green glow. After finding a mysterious leather glove, abandoned on top of some large root, the party decided to head east.

The eastern corridor appeared to be partially blocked by roots, which Elmenor passed successfully, though not before the roots animated, attempting to grab and restrain him. The rest of the party soon followed, uneventfully as well. Marco however, the last to pass through, got caught up in the roots, one of which made off with his wine skin! In a valiant effort, the fighter lunged forward, attempting to catch his beloved beverage with his teeth, but only managing to get a hold of the cork, which popped open. The wildly thrashing root escaped, leaving only a narrow tunnel in the wall, barely two fingers wide; spraying delicious, delicious wine everywhere in the process.

Cursing the roots and their wicked gods for the tragic loss of his mama’s favorite vintage, Marco rejoined the party, which now found itself standing in a strange round room. The atmosphere here was damp and warm. All over the walls and ceiling of this dome-shaped earthen space were root-faces, here of wrinkly old men, there of dashing youths, all clad in hair and beards made of glowing green moss.

“Look at what you’ve done!” screamed Marco. “That was mama’s best vintage!”.

In unison, the roots answered in a low, meandering grumble:

“We thank you… It was delicious... We do not get to enjoy wine… often…”.

“Well”, replied the fighter, “What have you got to give in return?”

“We will gladly provide… Information… If you feed us more…Delicious things…”

At this, Fra the cleric placed some of his rations on the ground, which were quickly grabbed by some roots, dragging the food into the earthen walls. After a second of silence, followed by a low, thoughtful grumble, the root-voice answered:

“The horned ogre…. owns a treasure… whose value he doesn’t… understand.”

The party had indeed heard of a strange creature fitting this description inhabiting this dark place. Intrigued, they looked for more things to give the root-faces. They found only oil, inquiring aloud:

“Well, I don’t suppose it drinks oil…”

“...Oil?” Replied the root-voice. “We… enjoy… oil.”

Confused but undeterred, they poured the contents of one of their flasks onto the earth, the liquid being lapped up quickly.

“Hmmmmmm… good… good…” said the root-voice.

After a short silence, and yet another thoughtful hum, it continued:

“Beware… the treachery… of the gnomes…”

Still angry at the root-thing, Marco threatened to feed it a brandished iron piton, at which point several of the faces disappeared into the walls. Diplomacy was maintained by the rest of the group, who decided to make their way into the eastward tunnel, from which came a cold draft of air, and a smell of ammonia.

Scouting ahead once more, Elmenor quickly found the source of the smell: The tunnel expanding in this direction was in fact a cavern, on the ceiling of which nested what looked like a hundred bats. Understandably, the floor underneath them was covered in stinking guano. Though the cavern continued to expand eastward, the party decided to head north, into a newly discovered tunnel, to avoid the bats.

The floor, walls and ceiling of this tunnel were of stone blocks, and the corridor led to a stone archway, sculpted in the fashion of a continuous, overarching pile of skulls. A skeleton wearing rusted chainmail was lying in a pool of dried blood, right under the archway. Poking at it with a ten-foot pole, and examining the surrounding walls, they discovered the mechanism triggering a deadly blade trap, no doubt the one which had sliced deep into the poor soul’s side, leading to their untimely demise. Once discovered, the pressure plate was easily overcome though, and the party hopped over it quite easily, continuing on. But not before Grudge examined the corpse further, to find a hefty pouch filled with twenty-five gold pieces, and a bronze skull necklace.

The party now found themselves in a much larger room, with several openings and doors in many directions, and most visibly, a number of statues representing regal figures on the west side. Examining them revealed nothing of import though, and the party endeavored to listen at some of the doors leading out of the room.

Out of one of the eastern doors came the sound of loud snoring, and light streamed from the opening underneath. The adventurers spent some time debating whether it was best to kick down the door and assault whatever was behind using the element of surprise; or to politely knock, and have a civilized discussion with the room’s occupant. In the end, after failing to pick the lock, they resolved to come back later, and instead went to examine the northernmost door.

Behind it, they found the corpse of an unfortunate dwarf, who had seemingly been strangled by some kind of black rope. Beyond it was another stone archway, carved in the shape of tree branches. Resolving not to go in that ominous direction, the party instead headed to the single door that led westward.

Marco swiftly opened the door, and was immediately greeted by eight shiny red eyes, glinting at the edge of the torch’s light. The creature hanging from the ceiling was surprised, and the party began the attack by throwing a flask of oil at it, which missed and ignited on the floor beneath it. Two arrows followed, both missing as well. Marco stepped forward, ready to meet the beast in mano a mano, hand-to-legs combat. The elf and the thief let loose another volley of arrows, this time hitting the creature: one half-severed one of its legs, the other embedded itself deep in one of its biggest eyes, which started oozing green blood. Seeing his opportunity, Marco thrust his halberd upward, cleanly shearing through the creature’s head, spraying green liquid all over. The creature lost its grip on the ceiling where it had made its web, and crashed down belly first, its legs gruesomely snapping in the process.

It seemed that behind the beast was yet another archway, this time one carved in the likeness of three intertwined serpents. As the party debated what kind of trap was undoubtedly hidden near it, Marco simply jumped and dexterously tumbled past the arch, unharmed. Shrugging their shoulders, Fra, Elmenor and Grudge passed through it without incident.

The party entered a small room, in the middle of which stood the statue of a hunter and his two hounds. To the north and south of it, hanging from the walls, were large mirrors. Proceeding with caution, after examining the statue for any pressable buttons of any kind, they carried on westward.

They came to a large, circular room with a tall domed ceiling. In the middle of it lay an enormous crimson carpet, decorated with gold and green geometric patterns, all made of fine wool. From there, a corridor led north, a beautifully carved wooden door to the west, and a corridor to the south. Circumventing the carpet, the party went south, in an attempt to rejoin what they thought was the way they came in from. They were correct in that assumption, and soon they arrived back at the first fork in the road they had encountered.

Gleefully, and now richer by about a pouch’s worth of gold, they headed out, up through the root-ladder and into the chilly night, back to the village where they would spend their hard-earned riches on all the pleasures the adventuring life is all about. They knew however, that this was not to be their last expedition to that dreamy forest glade, and to the strange complex under the Hole in the Oak.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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