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wilderlands

The events below happened at the same time as events described in session 7.

Adventurers

Character Class Description
Gabriel Faria Elf level 1 Cravatted silk shirt and a gold-encrusted rapier are all this 7th son of a duke needs to carve his own empire.
Taaaz Fighter level 1 Tall figure whose skinny frame is hidden behind plate armour he never takes off—including the helmet.

Taaaz's report linked at the end of the post.

Dewsnap 10th, Spiritday

Romilion sea was gentle to Slim Whale, a caravel boarded by Gabriel Faria and his squire Taaaz. What choice did Gabriel have but to steal his father's treasured weapon once he'd learn that his brother would be the future king? That went as expected, so he boarded the fastest ship in town—no questions asked. Little did he know that he would sail to most barbarian lands in the whole world...

The colossal eagle-like statue entered their sight much before the port did. “Aye lads, yer in the landz of the sky god now!” the blind captain giggled. And so the duo landed in Antil, the largest bastion of civilisation in the Barbarian Altanis.

It wasn't long until they've been accosted by a group of suspiciously looking men. “Till, at your service newcomer! Pardon my directness, but you do seem a bit disoirnted. Would you like us to escort you to a fine establishment worthy of your rank?”

What seemed like a good offer at first, quickly fell through for logistical reasons. Till insisted that he'd lead with Gabriel, while his three “associates” would walk behind with Taaaz. Few harsh words later, and our dynamic duo was off on their own.

“Can't go wrong with following the gigantic statue!”

The main street was wide and littered with loud men and women manning their small booths. All kinds of fruits, vegetables, and meats were sold. There were also bands of urchins crawling between all the stalls—and Taaaz, in his infinite wisdom, decided that best course of action is to interrogate one of the dirty orphans.

He dragged one into the dark alley and pinned him to the wall. “Speak!” he growled. Spit in the face and kick into the shin is all he got, to which he responded by tossing the kid into the wall. From now on, several gangs of urchins followed the magic duo.

In flash of inspiration, Gabriel tried to frame urchins for stealing from one of the local merchants. That also went as expected, so now they had gangs of orphans and an angry merchant chasing after them. The duo took a sharp turn to one of the many alleyways, cutting a booth canopy in an attempt to slow down their pursuers. Straight, right, down, no, let's go back, pause!

Alas, their break was not meant to be. A familiar figure stepped from around the corner, blocking off their route forward. It was Till and one of his “associates.”

“Gentlemen, this doesn't have to be violent!” unfortunately for Till, Taaaz woke up desiring nothing but violence. He swung his massive sword downwards, cleaving Till in half. Adding insult to injury, he splashed the associate with Till's remains. Without missing a beat, he swung upwards, cutting him open from chest to face. The remaining associates fled in terror, whilst Gabriel was making “Uh! Ah! En garde!” sounds.

And then they took a casual stroll through the alleys, ending up beneath the Sky God's temple surrounded by many acolytes. One of them, presenting himself as Theo, was more than delighted to tell Gabriel everything about the Temple of Shang Ta, the sky god, their ceremonies, beliefs, and such.

Gabriel listened—or pretended to—whilst waiting for an opportunity to offer his services. After all, the coins won't make themselves, and temples are usually full of the, are they not? Naive Theo was happy to take them to Sister Silente, a chaplain of his section. Perhaps he wasn't wrong, for she had also trusted the ambitious duo with her worry.

Several of the pilgrims went missing, and so did the sacred regalia they carried with them. She needed that investigated—covertly—because there is a big religious event coming up, and this would be most inconvenient. She agreed to equip the party with all the adventuring stuff they might need.

Drunken Whore tavern was their next destination. Gabriel promptly jumped on the table and made a display of his swordsmanship. “Who wishes to join us and get rich?” Talent attracts talent! Tarwick and Wolgos, two burly looking men, approached the boisterous elf. Negotiations went quite well, resulting in Tarwick getting stabbed through the head by Gabriel, and Wolgos jabbed in stomach by Taaaz. Our brave duo was quick to loot their bodies, and even quicker to leave the tavern. “This is Drunken Whore, not Bloody Whore, you gits!”

At least one of the patrons had been impressed with their unadulterated display of self-control and fine diplomacy. An elf named Nutriel followed them out, expressing his desire to join such talented individuals. He was warmly welcomed.

“Gabriel, you won't believe this. We're rich! One of this bloody bastards has some coin stored with the jeweler!”

Naturally, that was the next best place to go to. A small store with numerous colourful gems at display was headed by stout dwarf. He inspected the blood drenched note for few seconds, before disappearing behind thick wooden doors. Ten minutes later he was back with a small pouch.

“There are some coin missing... Have you counted them right?” Gabriel inquired.

“Cleaning fee.” the dwarf replied.

Taaaz was quick to swing, but dwarf was faster, hitting him with a battleaxe he always keeps under the counter. Elf managed to charm him before he'd have a chance for the second strike. Nutriel stared in disbelief, as the party dragged him outside.

A celebration was to be had! Gabriel got himself a fine courtesan (or at least that's the story he kept telling himself), while Taaaz went for the cheapest street rat. The duo burned through their coin in two days. As an added bonus, Taaaz managed to contract gonorrhoea and who knows what else.

Now they were ready to seek the missing holy symbol.

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Isembard Halfling level 1 Tall halfling dressed in worn tweed jacket. Always chewing on something, his jaw accentuated by thick chestnut coloured mutton chops.
Pusgic Fighter level 1 A hero of a long forgotten battle, now Isembard's bodyguard.
Jimmy Three Fingers Thief level 2 Small, unimposing elf-wannabe. So bad at playing lute that he lost two fingers whilst doing so.
Cigam Magic-user level 1 Wears a bright red hat as tall as himself.

Jimmy's and Isembard's reports linked at the end of the post.

Flowerbloom 1st, Airday

Isembard, an aspiring cook and intrepid adventurer, gathered a party to seek his long lost cousin in third-knee, Bobil Tightpants. His cousin was a well known chef; his cooking so legendary that he was apparently hosted by kings and demons alike. But he went missing twenty-seven years ago, never to be heard of again.

But Isembard was about to change that. He managed to track down what seemed to be last Bobil's note, describing a particularly large tree in a marshy area beneath Lagh Anon. “Mushrooms as tall as me, and tasty as elvish tears! To die for!” the note read.

And here he was, only wetlands standing between him and the tree that matched his cousin's description. He assembled a party others would envy him on: Pusgic, a tough-as-nails-all-dressed-in-black bodyguard to whom he owed money; Cigam Resu, a master of arcane arts so confident that he marched the earth with a hat everyone could spot miles away; and Jimmy, a man of such strong convictions he had no issues pickpocketing his own fellow adventurers.

After careful deliberation (and attempted communication with a pack of giant weasels), the brave team decided to seek out a log they could float on through the marsh. It was Pusgic's keen eye that found one, and soon the whole party was neck deep in murky waters. Lush green vegetation intermingled with sulphurous bubbles made the whole swamp seem like one big, breathing, organism.

Caution was name of the game on the island as well. Despite the tree clearly in their view, the adventurers decided to take it slow; prowling and observing. It didn't take them long to notice numerous pathways criss-crossing the island. They looked as someone dragged something round through the mud, without any sense or logic. The island was indeed peppered with thick, phallic mushrooms as tall as Isembard.

Unmolested, they approached the massive tree at snails pace. The tree was so thick that a group of twelve would have to hold hands to reach around its base. Isembard was convinced that this is the spot—but where was the entrance? If there was one at all?

It was Jimmy's brilliant idea of gently tapping the bark at different spots that helped them find a hollow point. It was no door, but a rather large part of especially heavy bark that seemed broken off from the rest of the tree. Despite its condition, it was so heavy that it required brains instead of brawn. The party threw grappling hook on top, and then pulled down with all their might. The bark finally came down after several attempts, revealing a dark, black hole.

Torchlight only revealed a sharp descent, nearly vertical. So our brave gang made an improvised anchor, tied some rope, and begun their descent. There were no stairs; only roots and soil. Walking was tricky and difficult, so easy to trip. After some twenty minutes of descent, Cigam stepped on a bloody piece of cloth with a symbol of fish on it. “Fish worshipping cult underneath the tree?” one of them wondered aloud. Downward they pressed. They ran out of rope—twice—before finally exiting into a round chamber.

It seemed to be a cavernous chamber some 40 by 40 feet. The air was stale, with nutty and smoky aroma in the air. It was so dark one couldn't see their own hand in front of their eyes. The floor was mostly roots and soil; the walls primarily roots. The party had enough light to see there are three paths: north, east, and west.

Eastern passageway slopped further down and had a whiff of something rotten. Northern led into another chamber dominated by a large pile of weapons and armour. In fact, there was enough of it to fully equip ten or more men. Alas, closer inspection revealed that most of it is broken or ripped to shreds. All were covered in blood.

Undeterred, the party went west. Jimmy sneaked in front, at the edge of light, Isembard straight behind; Pusgic and Cigam watched the back. This corridor led them to what seemed to be a large wooden bench and three metal hooks affixed to the rooty wall. There was a moth-eaten coat hanging from one of the hooks. It was large enough to fit two men. The passageway twisted north, terminating in thick, gray drapes. Careful listening revealed a female voice—singing? Crying? Whatever it was, it didn't sound particularly happy.

After some careful poking of the drapes, Jimmy crawled underneath it. He prowled through darkness carefully, attempting to follow the wall. “Is this another one of your games?” a female voice asked him. Isembard, whom had followed him in the darkness, did not understand a word of what has been said.

Jimmy, incapable (or unwilling?) to pass an opportunity to hit on whatever might be behind such a sweet voice, immediately responded; painting a vivid, if unrealistic, picture of this brave band of heroes on a mission to find the halflings long lost cousin.

“Come closer, so I can see you...” was enough to have him prowling the other way. He lit a small candle, which provided just enough illumination to see few steps ahead. A distressed marble figure of beautiful dame was followed by a stone dais on which a gorgeous lady sat. Long blonde hair accentuated her captivating amethyst-pink eyes, almost hiding any signs of stress from her situation. Her exquisite but weathered clothing only confirmed what Jimmy suspected:

“I've been captured here by the black demon for years; forced to entertain him! He fancies himself some sort of an art aficionado, but is nothing but a mere brute! He tricked me to wear these cursed shiny red shoes—if I take even one step of the dais I will suffer fate worse than death.”

“Oh dame—sexy lady—worry not—Jimmy Boy is now here—first I'll save you—then I'll marry you!”

By now the whole party was in the room, their torchlight revealing it was a dinning hall of sorts. A large table dominated the center, with a single large chair of black wood facing the dais. Walls were littered with what seemed to be paintings of various figures and vistas. Most of them were in poor state. A makeshift fireplace stood at the opposite side from whence the party came.

“The black devil hid the key in his chambers. Quick go there before he comes! I implore you to find a sleek red box encrusted with red rubies, for it holds a solution for my predicament!”

She motioned towards a disk-shaped stone just behind the chair “That where his chamber is. Please, waste no more time!

“Don't you worry baby girl!” Jimmy uttered. Another set of drapes rustled, those right next to the fireplace, revealing two halfling-sized yellowish blobs. Each had six legs, supporting a veiny egg-shaped torso. Two worm like protrusions, one extending from each side, seemed to function as arms. Nothing resembling eyes could be seen from the front, in fact there was just a snout-like appendix hanging from the creatures' highest point.

Our brave band acted in unison by fleeing as fast as they could. “Forget mapping, forget the dame, just get out of here!”

“You cowards, they are more afraid of you then you are of them!” the lady screamed after her husband-to-be. One of the blobs disappeared behind the drapes it came from, while the other ran to the other side of the room and forced himself into some hole. Sad farting noises was all that could be heard.

Isembard, Jimmy, Cigam, and Pusgic were out much faster then they were in. They didn't even care to stop and attempt to cover the entrance they came through—straight to the shore they went. Blinded by terror, they failed to notice a wobbling mushroom. The latter responded by unleashing a chilling shrill.

They boarded their driftwood without delay, with Pusgic sitting on top as sentry, while the other three submerged and started to paddle furiously. Alas, shrieks were so disturbing our brave party failed to notice their impending doom in the shape of a bear-sized crocodile. Red hat was all that was left of Cigam.

The rest made it across, wet and heavy-hearted. With a sigh, they went back to their camp...

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Melvin Magic-user level 1 Introduces himself as “Melvin the Magnificent.” Known as “Melvin the Mediocre.”
Belanor Elf level 1 Mohawk-rocking ex-slave on a path of vengeance.
Gon'd'elf Elf level 1 “Surely magnificent, am I not?” is his favourite opener. Works every time, 40% of the time.
Lir Cleric level 1 A tall lanky worshipper of Ragtha dressed in grand blue robes covered with fish motifs.

Dewsnap 20th, Spiritday

Having buried Richter, our band of heroes was ready to find the treasure so many have already died for. With nothing but their memory to count on, they decided to follow whatever notable markers they could remember.

It was a marvellous day, sunny and bereft of any wind. As soon as they set off, they've encountered a most curious thing—a piece of leather armour standing upright, as if someone invisible is wearing it. Traumatised by their previous experiences, they opted for circumventing it in the broadest possible arc.

Next thing they've encountered was what seemed to be a piece of wall, standing all alone. Their cautious approach to it paid off, since Alric, their vanguard, was greeted by a warning shot between his legs. “Not a step closer!”

Banter ensued, and our brave adventurers managed to persuade the defender to let them in, in exchange for a nice cup of tea. As they came closer to the structure, it became apparent that it was a wall of an old building, now long gone. They also noticed there was a smaller, supporting wall, which they couldn't see as they approached it. Two sides still stand but the grassland has reclaimed all the area around the walls. The two walls, only a story high, are at right angles to each other and protrude awkwardly out of the plain.

To their surprise, the inside of a bigger wall was covered in a magnificent mosaic, depicting a scene of a mountain above a blue lake, beneath a clear blue sky. No such scene was around them.

Cullan, Eoghan, and Donnan, three men with unerring likeness, made this ruin their home. They invited the party to their humble campfire, each sitting on a box. The latter seemed to fascinate Belanor to no end, and he struck up a bargain to take a peek into one. Few rubs and a peel later, he found that the contents were indeed what the men had told him—dried food, oil, bedrolls, and some trinkets.

Disappointed, our party left. “Watch out for the ogre!” was the last thing they heard from these open-air connoisseurs.

Elves were the first to pick up the crushing sound of rapids; something they went towards to. There it was, a powerful river was running rampantly in the chasm some sixty feet below them, frothing and crashing against boulders. A make-shift “bridge” was withing sight as well. If one could call a large tree rolled over the chasm a bridge, that is. A fine specimen, probably some hundred feet tall in its heyday, now laid there, devoid of any branches.

One by one; each party member carefully crossed the bridge; finding themselves in a thick, dark forest. It was a lively day, and wildlife was abundant. Songs of thousand birds could be heard, sometimes in sweet unison, sometimes in deafening cacophony. Gon'd'elf tried to sing with them, but alas, it wasn't always as melodious as he might've thought.

Trying their luck, the party decided to veer off-path, in order to cut their travel time. After some time they found themselves at a proverbial crossroads—the path in front of them seemed to descend into marsh, wetlands covered by tall woods; whilst the path north seemed to go deeper into the forest.

The ground surrounding the junction was completely blanketed with a vibrant, blue clover, the bright full blooms almost glowing in the gloom of the woods. Hundreds of rainbow-coloured butterflies were hovering and darting above the clovers. Idyllic scene was interrupted by a viper ambushing Belanor. But wait! His elvish fast reflexes allowed him to grab the assaulting viper mid-air, grabbing him right behind the head. A milking conversation ensued, resulting in poor viper being squeezed for two drops of its venom... Before they smashed its tiny head on the ground.

Satisfied with their heroics, our band opted for the northern, drier route. It didn't take them long to notice that the forest here seemed to get quieter and lighter. There seemed to be less trees, but those there were, were indeed astounding in their size. Some of them were towering over hundred feet tall, spanning ten to twenty feet across. There was some solemn quality to the air; as if they are entering a place of care. That and mushroom covered ground. Hundreds of tiny red-headed mushrooms carpeted the ground. Lir could smell their poisonous nature just in time to prevent Melvin from rolling in them “for academic purposes only.”

Their journey was driven to a halt by two ginormous trees that have grown toward each other over millennia past, their great roots intertwining and forming a latticework wall that completely barred the path. Melvin did notice that part of the roots resembled ladders, so, as all careful mages do, decided to check where do they lead to. Face first.

Surviving the climb, he found a small nest at the top, some three feet in diameter. There were some tiny clothes and shoes there, as well as small iron box. He was wise enough to ask one of the heavily clad warrior folk to inspect it further. Belanor was next to climb, replacing Melvin, for the ladder was wide enough for barely one person. Just as elf was reaching out for the box, he felt an immense force pushing his chest, sending him flying some twenty feet back. Surprised, and distressed, the party threw some rocks up there, only to find them flying back straight at them. They were quick to leave this place at rest.

Wetlands it was.

Swamp has penetrated through the forest edges, soaking the ground for meters. Intense smells lingered in the air—sweet aroma of blooming flowers intermingled with stench of decaying wood and sulphurous bubbles. The whole place seemed to have a life of its own.

The party formed a single rank file, treading mush grounds as carefully as they could. It wasn't long until they found themselves waist deep in chilly water. Wading through they encountered a portly rat grinning at them from distance, smelly bubbles popping around him. No one was in the mood for that. They did see a large tree some hundred feet away from the, too. And it seemed to stand on a dry piece of land, something they desired the most at this very moment.

Some twenty minutes of wading through chest-deep marsh later, and they were finally there. Isn't it weird how sometimes things seem much closer than they really are?

The “island” seemed to be bereft of any living trees, except the particularly large one. There seemed to be some human-sized mushrooms around.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Parties exploration was abruptly interrupted by a piercing shriek.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Another one joined in.

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

And a third one went of.

“Uh, it's time to go.” Gon'd'elf uttered just as towering, gaunt, lanky figure stepped out of the tree's shade.

There it stood, its black, leathery and warty skin glistening in the dim sunlight.

There it stood, its nose hanging like a limp snout, its two bright-red eyes gazing straight into the soul of our brave adventurers.

There it stood, its jaw wide open, drool dripping down its chin.

“Fall back behind me!” Alric shouted, positioning himself between the black horror and other party members.

The creature took its time, strolling menacingly towards Alric. It was only then our brave warrior could see how large the deformed horror was, towering over him by at least three heads.

The creature swung its sharp talon—missing Alric by an inch. The warrior rolled masterfully, confusing the creature in the process, making it slip whilst attempting to catch him. The demon face-planted with might, and was seemingly dazed and disoriented.

Belanor shot an arrow which found its target, and the rest, encouraged by Alric's dodge, ganged up on the creature.

Bravery or stupidity?

No hits connected. They kept going at it, but alas, their weapons have proven to be most ineffective. And they could all see the moment creature got back to its senses. Oh, they could.

Melvin felt the creatures claws ripping into his shoulders, its strong grip squeezing him with no mercy. The last thing he saw was a gaping maw full of disgusting, rotting teeth.

The creature bit his head off, popped his skull like a cherry tomato, and then spat the remains at Alric. The warrior was next. The creature clawed into him with disturbing glee, cackling at Alric's impotent allies.

Alric tried. He really did. But he passed out from the grievous wounds; wounds that would've killed any lesser man.

“What are you crying for?!” the creature mocked Gon'd'elf in its broken tongue. It torn asunder Lir, throwing his limbs and jaw into Belanor, downing him next. It was perhaps Belanor who had the most luck of all, since his death was fast and only moderately grotesque.

Gon'd'elf fled, crying, running, begging, pleading, praying, sprinting, swimming... He fled, as the creature cackled and mocked him. He fled, as the creature dragged the bloody remains of his friends into depth, into hell.

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.
Melvin Magic-user level 1 Introduces himself as “Melvin the Magnificent.” Known as “Melvin the Mediocre.”
Tsielpffn Elf level 1 An imposing 4 foot 9 figure rocking a crazy goatee and embodying multiple personalities.

Later

Character Class Description
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Gon'd'elf Elf level 1 “Surely magnificent, am I not?” is his favourite opener. Works every time, 40% of the time.
Belanor Elf level 1 Mohawk-rocking ex-slave on a path of vengeance.

Richter's report linked at the end of the post.

Dewsnap 10th–15th

Our heroes took a full week of rest to recover from their most recent ordeal. Majority of them engaged in menial task around Rantar's keep, as well as some carousing and drinking with the locals. Owsley, an outdoorsman deprived of human touch, decided to hit on one of Rantar's wives. A brave man he is. Either that, or easily motivated by his peers and some fermented barley. His attempts fell flat; and luckily for him, Rantar wasn't around to liberate him of his head.

Richter the Ruddy also went big on drinking, spilling his guts to whomever had the patience to listen: “When I was a boy, my father, who was a peat digger, came home one day and took a solid look at me. ‘All day I shovel shit, and for what,’ he said, ‘so I can come home and look at more of it!’ And from that day I was made to sleep in the hog pen with the sow. The local children were cruel. They called me the Hogling and screamed oink oink at me. When I stood up for myself and told them to stop, they whipped my hide with reeds. Whipped my rump raw!”

Lir, the priest of and only honest man in this party, spent his time meditating. On one occasion he attempted to commune with his deity by divining over a cup of tea. The tea started swirling; slowly at first. Then it kept getting faster and faster, and just when he closed in and squinted to understand it better, it suddenly took the shape of a watery spear and rammed straight into Lir's pupil. He didn't have good time.

Owsley, liquid courage still in his veins, decided to befriend a guard on duty, so he could steal some spears. His plan was simple: sing some shanties, have some good time, and then quickly nab some spears and pretend they were always there.

Barry's ocean-blue eyes welled “Ou- Owl-” he stammers “OVULY!” “Is that why we've had such great time!” Barry is an honest man in his early thirties, his family in a nearby hamlet. He told Owsley everything about his sheep, his gorgeous Jannette, and their three children. He's been serving Rantar for some years now—much better pay than tending the fields. He couldn't hold back anymore, and was bawling by now “IS THAT WANT YOU WANT!” shaking his spear “AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GOOD MAN! A FRIEND”

“Hey hey, come on now. It’s nothing personal! I’m still your friend! It’s just that I need some more spears to support my livelihood but I’ve got no coin to spare for it!” Owsley put his hand on Barry’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that to a friend like you, Barry. How about I go hunt us a nice critter and l’ll cook your family a nice meal and this can all blow over, yeah?”

“Are you for real? Or is this another of your tricks?” Barry inquired, wiping his snots.

“I swear it on my honor as a Ranger, Barry. May the great Baytnorn, God of trees, make a tree fall upon my head and kill me if I lie.” Owsley replied.

Barry wiped his snotty face “I knew you were real. After all, real eyes realize real lies!” A branch from a nearby tree fell off.

Indeed, our fine heroes spent their rest days well. Richter was seen going out and about, until he returned one day looking all sour and smelling of cat piss. From that day on he painted his shield as follows:

Smart as they are, our enterprising adventurers decided to recruit some meatshileds—ahem, retainers. Richter managed to recruit Euin, a local drunkard, while Melvin and Tsielpffn convinced four local boys to join them:

Samton, a burly man who ends 90% of his sentences with “eh?;” Nolgar, a sheperdboy looking to get rich quick; Larlo, thirsty for goblin blood and Tsielpffn's mentorship; and Gryx, the only one with actual weapon and armour—spear and leather.

On the morning of next day, they set out to recover riches Arder told them about.

Dewsnap 18th, Earthday

After two days of unmolested travel, Euin led the party to ruins of Deeridyll. What once was a hamlet, now was nothing but four dilapidated huts.

“The boys! The boys are back!” an old, stuttering figure shouted, emerging from the darkness of one hut. An old man, Altanian if it was to be judged by the colour of his skin, slowly approached the party. Despite his enthusiasm, Richter and Tsielpffn responded by pointing their spears at the old man.

“What? Why would you do treat me so? Boys...?” old man's eyes revealed nothing but child-like innocence. He did look to be in a rather poor shape, with flaking yellowish patches of skin hanging from his limbs. “Come! Come to my home. Come boys!” he uttered and dragged himself back into the hut.

Melvin followed; Richter took watch from outside; and Tsielpffn took Nolgar and Gryx for a crash course in wilderness surveying.

Old man's hut was dirty and unkempt. Ground was nothing but soil; a pile of straw was a bed. There was a pot hanging over some embers in the corner; a dark-brown stew rested lazily in it. The hut smelt of bodily odours and smoke.

Old man only spoke of “the boys” and how happy he is that they are back, despite Richter's and Melvin's best attempts to find out what has happened here. Euin said that there were some people that refused to leave the hamlet, and that perhaps the old man was one of them.

Unlike his colleagues, Tsielpffn did manage to find useful intel—a black spire to the north-east that looked very similar to the landmark on their treasure map. Plans were made to head there first thing in the morning.

Old man was delighted to offer his hut to he party, but only Melvin, Samton and Larlo took him on it. Richter and Euin selected another hut, while Tsielpffn and his mentees selected yet another.

Dewsnap 18th, Earthday, Night

Crrrraaaaaack.

Crrrrraaaaaack.

Shhh-hhhss-ssshhhh.

Tsielpffn's keen ears picked up sounds of cracking branches and shuffling leaves. Something heavy was moving outside of his hut. He quickly but slowly jumped up, and instructed Nolgar and Gryx to ready themselves in darkness.

Richter, in another hut, heard it as well. He kicked Euin awake, and they readied themselves, opting to stay in darkness of the hut.

Old man and Melvin heard it as well. “Oh no, oh no” the man stammered “follow my lead boy, if you wish to live!” He started to rub himself with dirt and dried feces. Melvin obliged, and so did Samton and Larlo.

The cracks were gone, now replaced with heavy thuds.

Tsielpffn could hear them coming closer and closer. “Ready yourselves” he growled through his teeth “do exactly as I say!” Leaning against the rotten planks, attempting to see anything in the darkness revealed little. There was something out there, but what?

“Boy, lie still, lie still...” was the last thing old man said before dozing away. Melvin and his compatriots obliged once again.

Richter's hut was filled with the sound of Euin's trembling jaw. “Get it together!” didn't help him at all. Richter positioned himself just behind the improvised doors—nothing but a plank of wood leaning on the ramshackle hut—to stop whatever might try to come in.

Euin was now trembling proper. One could hear his knees clicking, his jaw clacking, and the his back gently tapping the wall of the hut. “Come on, get it-”

Just as he was about to finish his admonishment, the hut came crushing down, revealing a massive owl-headed hairy figure towering behind Euin. It tore through him in a blink of an eye. Just as he was to avenge his fallen comrade, Richter immense pressure behind him, followed by unimaginable pain. He went up and down, his flesh torn to shreds; massive beak ripped his muscles; he could see Howla and Vannis clearly as he flew through the air; landing face-first on the soil in front of the old man's hut.

Tsielpffn and his team carefully opened their doors, intending to surprise whatever might be out there. Alas, they were unaware of the fate suffered by the Ugly One. Only the elf could make sense of what was happening, for they all fought in the darkness. He weaved his hands, attempting to sleep the massive bear-like figure in front of him. Alas, he only succeeded in attracting the creature's attention. It went through the hut like it was made of paper, crushing Gryx in it's charge.

The elf put up a bloody fight; cursing and growling at the cursed creature with his every breath. He was clawed, he was bitten; his body was torn to shreds, but his resolve remained unbroken to the very end. Nolgar shared the fate of his master.

Melvin decided he couldn't lie in wait any longer. “No boy, don't! Don't!” the old man pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears. “Light up the torch!” Melvin instructed Larlo.

What a sight it was. Ricther was lying in front of them, resembling a collection of strips of flesh. Nothing but planks and bloodied remains were where once a hut stood. And on it a monumental bear-like creature stood, feasting on whatever was left of Euin. It raised it's unholy head, revealing massive beak and owl-like features.

Driven by raw instinct, it immediately charged the light source, severing Larlo in half. As did the torch extinguish, so did any remaining atom of courage in Melvin and Samton. They fled for their life in blind panic, each going their own way.

Melvin ran through the night—a man who used to sleep whilst others were exploring the keep—stopping at nothing and for no one. “The black spire, the black spire...” he braved himself, hoping to reach it as soon as possible... But running and finding direction is difficult in darkness, even with two moons...

Exhausted and expended, Melvin stumbled out of the woods with the first rays of new day. His tired eyes had seen what he yearned the most for—glorious flowing handle-bar moustache and muscle-bound python-like arms of Alric the Fighter. There he stood, at the base of great black obelisk.

Was it a mirage?

“Alric?”

“Melvin?”

Finding strength, the wizard stood back up and continued his march.

“Alric!!!”

“Melvin!!!”

By now the fighter was running, ready to embrace his beaten comrade in his safe arms.

“You have to save them! We have to go back! Richter! Tsielpffn! The boys! We have to go back!”

“Back where? What happened! Speak man!”

“They were hacked! Smashed! We have to go back!”

Alric was joined by two elves. Belanor, a mohawk-rocking ex-slave on a path of vengeance, and Gon'd'elf, a silver-headed and silver-eyed magnificent specimen. Neither of the two were too enthused with the wizard's plea. But Alric had a soft spot for his friends. And so they marched back.

The found four huts as they left them. Utterly crushed. No bodies in sight. Only bloody remains. “The boys are back!” Oh, the boys are back!” The old man was still in his hut. There lay Richter, pale as the robes of Priestess of Feninva. “Richter!” Melvin and Alric gasped simultaneously. They knelt next to him, and tried to shake him back to life. Alas, nothing but a corpse laid before them. “He is hungry boys, step aside please...” the old man muttered, and fed the cold corpse some of his stew. It spilled all over Richter, enraging Alric “It's enough old man, he's dead! Please, stop!”

They buried Ricther by the black spire, leaving his shield on his grave.

Taken too soon. The pantheon has one more Saint in its ranks. You may have only had two points in charisma, but you were beautiful. Good night sweet prince. Rest in Peace Richter the Ruddy. Torn asunder by an owlbear at the ruined village of Deeridyll.

The Gods of Wilderlands can be cruel in their mercy.

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Reedo Halfling level 1 Portly, somewhat distant and out-of-place, novice adventurer seeking riches in the big scary world. Very likeable.
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Melvin Magic-user level 1 Introduces himself as “Melvin the Magnificent.” Known as “Melvin the Mediocre.”
Tsielpffn Elf level 1 An imposing 4 foot 9 figure rocking a crazy goatee and embodying multiple personalities.
Lir Cleric level 1 A tall lanky worshipper of Ragtha dressed in grand blue robes covered with fish motifs.
Owsley Thief level 1 A rugged survivalist dressed in greens and browns carrying a special-made spear quiver.

Richter's report linked at the end of the post.

Dewsnap 4th, Fireday

“I'd rather die than keep on running!”

Reedo, Richter, Alric, and Melvin turned around to face their pursuers. It's been a long day. Perhaps it will be their last.

Ingemar kept fleeing—he was carrying most of the treasure they've recovered just hours ago.

They could see the goblins mounted on giant wolves rapidly approaching them, spittle flying left and right. Ricther and Alric joined their shields, Reedo readied his sling, and Melvin hastily readied his spell.

Unbeknownst to them, master tracker Owlsey managed to find Ibor's camp. He persuaded him and Lir, a short off-balance priest obsessed with fish, to move towards the parties last known location.

The brave fighter duo took the brunt of the charge, braving bites and slashes and insults. Melvin pulled off a miracle and managed to put to sleep two of the large wolves. Owlsey and Lir were just within the sight—the former rushed to aid his battle brothers. The latter ran forward as well, but with much less grace.

Unknown figure stepped out of the woods, shooting down one goblin with uncanny precision. Friend or foe? Whilst definitely humanoid, the creature seemed to scream and yell in the same language as the goblins party was currently fighting.

Melee turned nasty; both sides fought desperately; chunks of flesh and blood splattered the green, lush grass. The goatee rocking figure turned out to have arcane capabilities as well, as demonstrated by it putting to sleep the remaining giant wolf.

Once the chaos subdued, everybody was standing but Melvin. Brave as he is, once he cast his only spell he took to his dagger and charged straight into the fray. Clumsy as he is, he immediately slipped on the grass and knocked himself unconscious.

The newcomer introduced himself as Tsielpffn, a recreational butcher of goblins, and invited them all to counter-attack incoming goblin horde. The party kindly refused. In fact, they opted for tactical retreat, leaving behind their thrown weapons, loot, and corpses.

Reedo sweet-talked Ibor into taking them to his secret safe spot at the edge of the jungle. Many of them were wounded and exhausted, and were unlikely to survive the perilous jungle trip back to the Rantar's keep. Two full days of rest later and they were ready to march on.

Their journey was mostly calm, except that one time Tsielpffn and Ibor ran into a greyish, gooey substance between the trees. The surroundings look as if the jungle itself had a yeast infection. Adventurers' amusement was cut short once Lir and Reedo spotted two giant tarantulas descending from the dark tree-tops.

Tsielpffn ripped himself and Ibor free, while Richter and the rest deliberated if they should set the whole jungle on fire or not. Ibor had no patience for their shenanigans and laid out an ultimatum “Either leave with me right now, or navigate this jungle yourself!” The decision made itself once a winged creature picked up one of the giant spiders. From then on, our brave gang moved with an impressive pace.

The party arrived at the keep on Dewsnap 10th, Spiritday, and promptly partied away their recovered treasure. But that is another story.

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Reedo Halfling level 1 Portly, somewhat distant and out-of-place, novice adventurer seeking riches in the big scary world. Very likeable.
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Ingemar Magic-user level 1 Polyglot covered from head to toe in inked scriptures. Only thing more stained than his skin is the robe he wears.
Melvin Magic-user level 1 Introduces himself as “Melvin the Magnificent.” Known as “Melvin the Mediocre.”

Richter's report linked at the end of the post.

Dewsnap 4th, Fireday

The warmth of the sun was lost on our band of adventurers—Reedo, Richter, and Alric—replaced by the burning fire of vengeance in their belly. In silence they sat; waiting for the new day to dawn. They will have their vengeance; there is blood-price to be paid.

Ibor, their guide from the Rantar's keep, joined their solemn silence. That was as much as he could offer. New day brought new allies. Melvin, a moaning wizard looking for his dwarf friend “Jaha,” and Ingemar, a man of magic and languages. Our party set out with the earliest rays of sun—to Melvin's incomprehensible complaints.

They circled the keep like vultures; their victims the only thing they could think of. North? South? East? West? East it was their corridor of choice. They crept, like a snake towards a warm egg nurturing new life, unmolested, undisturbed.

It was a wonderful sunny day. There was vibrant life all around them, but alas, they were too engrossed in their devices to notice such beauty. Walls were still as old as yesterday. They crawled around the corner, inspecting the passage once protected by large gates. The floor was charcoal-black, like a sore on the earth. Richter poked it with sword—the party's favour inspection technique. Yes, it was scorched earth.

There was fresh soil just beyond the gate's threshold. The ground there looked quite different. Our heroes filled one pot with flesh soil; Richter chucked it with all his might; revealing a shoddily made pit trap with some wooden stakes at the bottom. You should've seen their smug grins.

Few jumps later, and our A-team was in the keep's courtyard, hugging the wall in order to avoid any ambush. West? North? South-eastern tower it was. They busted the doors open with elephant's grace, finding themselves in the foot of a guard tower. Up they went carefully. Richter was the last to go. And it would've been his last going hadn't Alric been there to offer his muscle-stacked arm when the ladder collapsed under the ruddy one.

Adventurers are know for not letting anything going to waste. So they ripped out corroded rail—that is, what remained of it—and celebrated their new pole. They were on the first floor now. Reedo listened to the west doors, getting some bugs in his ear; Ingemar took to north doors, which swung right open in front of him. There was another trapdoor on the ceiling. Reluctant to immediately climb them, the party figured out a perfect way to test the alluring trapdoor.

Reedo climbed on Richter's shoulders, and then used to corroded pole to poke the doors. The pole fell apart in his hands, turning into nothing but dust and rust. Being no coward, Ricther braved the ladders, and went up. They held. The tower floor above was covered in rubble; azure blue sky clearly visible through the collapsed ceiling. There were dried blood stains and broken arrows amongst the rubble.

There were two exists from the tower's first floor. Both were covered in blackish burn-marks. “Will it hold us?” Alric and Richter ran across, Reedo carrying a torch behind them, Melvin and Ingemar stayed behind in the safety of the tower. Nothing bad happened.

They found themselves in a long room—barracks if it was to judge from all the rotten bunkbeds, tables and chairs. The air had acidic smell to it; the kind that feels like it burns your nasal hairs; as well as that familiar smell of death. The room was stripped by lazy sunrays making their way from numerous killholes. Myst lay where they left him; although he was nothing but gummy skeleton covered by pink slime.

Our brave adventurers couldn't resist the allure of robbing the corpse of their former companion. “It'd be a pity to leave his spellbook behind!” Richter readied his sword so he can lift the skeleton's hand off the book; Ingemar prepared a small sack, so he can grab the book; Reedo light up another torch in case something needs to be set to fire. Alric and Melvin looked on with curiosity.

The tip of Richter's sword sizzled away.

Reedo's torch extinguished.

Ingemar gambled his life. Twice.

Whatever the slime covering Myst's body was, it seemed alive and hungry; going for the first thing by it. It is part luck, put wonder, that no one died in the ensuing chaos. Our brave party—all of them—made a mad dash to the nearby staircase. Whatever might lurk below is surely less scary than this , right? Reedo, Melvin, and Ingemar, took the stairs like civilised gentlemen they are. Richter and Alric, on the other hand, just jumped leg-first in the pit bellow.

Another room prostrated in front of them, cut short by a gaping hole in front of them. Hesitant to spend any more time while that thing crawls about, they opted to go deeper. They found themselves in a dank, dark, cellar. There were skeletons around, as were straw-filled sacks that reeked of piss and worse. Although skeptical of the resting dead, our band quickly investigated all nooks and crannies.

It were Ingemar and Melvin who found old, bloated, wooden chest. The duo, pretending to be Richter and Alric, attempted to force the chest open. Alas, they aren't as bulging as the named duo. Originals had no trouble ripping the chest open; revealing thousands of orangish coins. Ingemar recognised the lettering of a long gone empire. There were so many coins that five large sacks were barely enough.

But which way to exit? Are staircases safe? Should we climb the rubble? Richter abandoned the latter option after feeling intense coldness beneath him. So they made their way back, exiting into the other side of the courtyard. There they've noticed that makeshift wall that divided the courtyard in half was supported by three beams. Reedo was the last to kick one of them to the side, sending the whole wall down. He was caught up by the debris, but was quickly dusted by others.

Those ancient coin surely quenched their thirst for vengeance. They exited the keep just as the sun started to set, with Howla and Vanis announcing their presences.

And then they heard a familiar-sounding horn going off south of them. Then another, south-east. Then another, north-west. “Run!” and ran they did. “Run!” and ran they did. But it is difficult to run when you are hauling five large sacks filled with coin. Barks and grunts could be heard in the distance.

Ingemar understood them.

“Catch them! Skin them!”

Player Session Reports

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Reedo Halfling level 1 Portly, somewhat distant and out-of-place, novice adventurer seeking riches in the big scary world. Very likeable.
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Myst Elf level 1 Otherworldly gorgeous. Failed bard, currently dipping his toes into this “adventuring” stuff.
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.
Saga-Bhoy Thief level 1 A slender man of many careers, including, but not limited to: gambling, almanac-writing, and pranking.

Richter's, Reedo's, and Alric's reports linked at the end of the post.

Thawmist 16th–20th

Having survived their harrowing trip to Rantar's keep, our band of brave adventurers spent the next five days licking their wounds. Richter the Ruddy, and his gang of opportunistic misfits—Arder & Arlic—tried to fleece the local soldiers. They did their best to set-up a game of two-up, creating noise and ruckus.

Few locals gave it a go, but quickly left after losing their hard earned silver coins. Richter “The House Always Wins” walked away with a stunning haul of 2 silver coins, 8 copper coins, and 0 new friends.

Rantar, their generous host, offered them some coin and supplies if they take care of an abandoned keep just south of his. He'd also provide them with a skilled guide, to make their jungle voyage less perilous. His scouts reported that they've witnessed some goblin activity around it, and he assumed they're trying to turn it into their new lair. Something he won't tolerate.

Arder tried to persuade our brave adventurers to ignore that offer, and pursue his treasure map instead. Alas, no matter how much he pleaded and begged, our adventurers had made their decision. Justice shall be served! For a fair share of coin, that is. Some even went so far to question the veracity of Arder's map, but that is best left forgotten.

And so our band set out on the dawn of Dewsnap 1st, led by Ibor into the thick jungle.

Interlude

“Wake up, you sloth!” a flurry of curse words and splash if ice-cold water brought Jaha back to consciousness. He found himself dressed in tattered clothes; his hands manacled to an iron ring firmly bolted to the ground. With his body covered in bruises from toe to temple—he foggily remember being beaten and dragged around—even the smallest move made him shiver from pain.

“Hey! Hey! Here! Focus on me!” a human dressed in chainmail aggressively waved their hand in front of Jaha.

“Come on, don't feint on me now. Your sun-worshipping friend is done for, fate worse than death befell him, all doing of his own. Now, I had to make hard bargains to keep you alive.”

“I know your kind has been secretly mining Lagh Anon. They will surely be happy to save one of their own! How about you write them a heartfelt plea, asking for a small donation of 800 gold coins?”

“Ay Allon dead it can not be...” the dwarf glumly stated after a long period of tangible silence.

Summoning strength from some netherplace, Jaha continued “I'm afraid I cannot oblige your request either. I have no idea about any mining at Lagh Anon nor would I help out any ruffian like yourself. But I believe it would be in your best interest to release me if you would do so kindly.”

“Oh, the audacity to speak so! After you've begged my men to spare you? This is your last chance—pen this letter, or so I swear to Harmakhis, I'll sell your hide to Kalakia herself!”

“Ay that was my own coin not a stranger as I say I do not know them. Either way, I would recommend my release as if I’m held captive or killed my allies who escaped will surely rally forces to take their revenge! You may have one our last encounter but that was due to sheer number when my friends return with a squadron of well trained fighters that number issue will be minimal and I’ve seen those thugs fight—they don’t exactly command like full soldiers.”

“Nonsense!” cracks in human's voice his uneasiness “Let's see if spending a few days with Kalakia will change your mind!”

“Just remember boy—my survival is your survival!” was the last thing Jaha shouted before being dragged into the darkness... The human wiped sweat nervously.

Dewsnap 1st–3rd

It took our adventurers two days to reach this abandoned keep Rantar spoke off. Their biggest nuisance were large insects and sharp overgrowth. Ibor knew the path as the back of his palm, ensuring their journey was as uneventful as it was. But from now on—they were on their own.

The party decided to split, with warriors making the camp with Ibor, and thief Saga-Bhoy, halfling Reedo, and elf Myst, forming a scouting party. Following their tried-and-tested methods, first fielded in the abandoned keep near Kestizar, the scouting party made cold-camp some 200 yards away from the keep. The trio took turns observing the keep during the night. And indeed, a loud noise akin to the mountain mating song, woke the up in the dark of Dewsnap 3rd.

Undeterred, Myst and Saga-Bhoy advanced under nothing but moonlight of Howla and Vanis, with brave Reedo following them some 90 feet away. From then on, they could rely on nothing but their tactile senses. And so they caressed the keep, following its curves, nooks, and crannies, trying to find the source of mysterious noise. Few grunts in the darkness were enough to send them packing. “We found out what we needed to find out!” Saga-Bhoy whispered loudly, as he retreated into the darkness gracefully.

They rejoined with the remaining adventurers just as the first rays of sunlight hit the camp. After some discussion, our band decided to circle the keep, and approach it from “behind,” i.e. the side opposite of the main entrance. This small fort was a vestigial remnant of antediluvian empire of Kelnore. That it still stood, despite its dilapidated condition, was a testament to the long fallen empire.

From the sketchbook of Richter the Ruddy:

The party cautiously advanced to the palisades. Once they were there, light-handed Saga-Bhoy scaled the walls, reaching the wall walk, and then threw others a rope. At one moment he heard a loud cracking sound to his left, almost like someone breaking a piece of wood. Perhaps that would make him run during night—but now was day! No fleeing in broad daylight!

A few turns later, and all were up. Just in time to be ambushed from multiple sides. It was only thanks to Saga-Bhoy's keen senses that wasn't a bloodshed—for he saw ugly bobbing heads before they had a chance to act.

Alric and Richter burst through the closest doors, literally sending the wood flying. There was loud noise, made by the cutlery that was stacked in front of the doors. Others tried to take a shoot at devilish creatures above them, but they were too well covered.

A slew of rocks was the response, one lodging into Arder's uncovered head. He stumbled for few steps, before falling flat on his face, the wedged rock splitting his head wide open. Two arrows flew from south-east, one lodging into Myst's leg, nearly severing it.

New round saw even more chaos-with everybody running in, except Richter, who was driven to mad rage from seeing his “boy” Arder going down in such gory way. Alric had to drag him back in, sans he ends the same way as the bearded drunkard.

Saga-Bhoy, the sharpshooter, managed to take down one of the critters hidden in the south-east tower. Alrich, Richter, and Reedo scaled the ladder, and brutalised two goblin critters. Saga-Bhoy surprised them from behind, and caught one at the far end. Myst took down another hidden bastard.

Richter had no sympathy for the surrendering goblins—he and Alric chucked one off the palisades—whilst Saga-Bhoy accidentally clubbed the other to death.

Myst, the only one who remained in the room below, noticed a large pool of transparent liquid—water?—slowly advancing towards him. That fascinated him so much he failed to notice three critters behind him.

He gently prodded the pool with the tip of his sword... Only to find it melting away with the sizzle. Myst might've been a failed bard, but his adventuring career was about to take a rather grim turn. In a blink of an eye, the liquid engulfed his feet, climbed up his sizzling sword and legs, melting away his flesh, penetrating into the very core of his being.

Richter might've wailed like a wounded seal, but the sound let out by Myst is beyond human comprehension. Perhaps another bard could find proper words for it.

Reedo took down a critter running across the courtyard with a pebble from his sling shot, an amazing feat considering all the conditions. It was the sound of horn that convinced our brave party that it's time to deploy a tactical retreat. They made sure to recover Arder's body. Myst was left behind, a pink slime in a transparent pool.

Who knows what will happen next...

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Alric Fighter level 1 Tall, broad-shouldered avatar of masculinity. Obligatory horned helmet and majestic blonde mustache included.
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.
Reedo Halfling level 1 Portly, somewhat distant and out-of-place, novice adventurer seeking riches in the big scary world. Very likeable.
Myst Elf level 1 Otherworldly gorgeous. Failed bard, currently dipping his toes into this “adventuring” stuff.
Saga-Bhoy Thief level 1 A slender man of many careers, including, but not limited to: gambling, almanac-writing, and pranking.

Reedo's, Richter's, and Alric's reports linked at the end of the post.

Thawmist 12th, Waterday

Having insulted all those that might have work for them, Richter resorted to what he knows best—getting piss drunk with locals. After an indiscriminate amount of time, he found himself with a new friend, new tattoo, and a treasure map. Nothing says “great plan” better than following a drunkards map.

Reedo managed to recruit Armar, a silver haired, pale-skinned, seasoned fighter. And so this adventuring troupe set out to recover some riches, their first stop being Weststar keep. Once again, they found that locals don't put a lot of trust in the castellan, Lord Karnalt. Even worse, it seemed like most of the force were poorly equipped peasants.

Interlude

“Praise the Sun, father!” a loud exclamation awoke Allon, his head throbbing with pain. He found himself in a simple, but serviceable bed, in a small room. He was still dressed in his clerical garments, but nor his chainmail, nor sword, were in sight.

“Sir Roenald, at your service, father. As you can see, we've taken good care of you. Although, I must disclose my great displeasure with those rag-tag bandits you were seen with!”

“Now, father, you surely understand that it took us significant effort to nurture you back. Many people tended to your wounds, salves had to be made, and I had to vacate this room! All for you.”

“Here, I took the liberty to bring a parchment and quill pen, so you can write to your temple. 300 gold coin will suffice, but we will not refuse any additional donations!”

Allon, coughing painfully, took a sip of water, followed by making the sign of the sun over his third eye. “Blessings on you Sir Roenald. May I ask where we are? And my companion, a dwarven fellow, is he safe? Is he alive?”

“Don't worry about that—you are in my care, and you are safe now.”

“Your dwarf friend is also well taken care of. He is resting in another room.”

“But, tell me something father. Why did you and your friends try to break into my home during night? That was most rude.”

“Demon!” Allon spat water at him.

“May the Radiant Death burn your hide! I shall write no letter of ransom. I came to bring law to these lands. For light burns away shadow!”

Allon's righteous rebuke took Roenald by surprise, and he fell down on his ass. Unfortunately for Allon, he was also quick to get up, and shout whilst delivering a hard-slap “So be it, father! Remember my offer as you rot away in the darkness I tried to save you from! Remember it when the rats come for you!”

Staunchly determined, Allon retreated into a Gregorian-like chanting, hoping for blessed visions from his God and praying for swift death; a miraculous immolation like those recorded in the canon scriptures of the Radiant Death.

His skin begun to crawl; tingles could be felt in the air; hope! No light came.

“All is lost, even God leaves me, in this, my darkest night.”

Two humanoid figures with rodent-like features burst into room just as Allon finished his plea. They easily overpowered him, tied him up, and put a sack on his head. He could feel being dragged and scratched. He heard a woman's voice “No, this isn't right! My father will hear about this!”

Some voices spoke common, some were just primitive grunts.There was a brief pause, a moment of respite. Alas, it did not last long. He could feel a long staircase, smell damp, fetid, air. This went on for who knows how long, until another pause came. Allon could hear wood creaking—doors perhaps?—and then a strong waft of sweet incense-like aroma. “Oh, another play-thing for me? What a wonderful gift!”

And then there was nothing but light and joy.

Thawmist 13th, Earthday

Following an uneventful day of marching through the woods, our band of adventurers set up a humble, but comfortable camp. Unlike the day, the night has proven to be most eventful.

On his night-watch Reedo heard swooshing sounds, like a leathery sail gliding through the air. That was followed by loud sounds of cracking branches. He was quick to wake everybody in the camp.

The adventurers were quick to set-up a perimeter, orienting themselves towards the dark woods whence the noise cometh from. At one moment they could hear a voluminous monstrous roar. Richter's natural response was to make as much noise as possible, banging his shield and roaring in kind. There can be only one alpha in this woods.

The party quickly spilled some oil and set it aflame, creating a firewall between themselves and incoming behemoth. “I am not paid well enough for this!” Armar shouted as a scaly wedge with yellow-glowing eyes rushed out, revealing its narrow slithery body, supported by two thick hind legs, and a pair of wide, leathery wings. Sparring no moment, it lurched itself high in the air, slamming down on Armar with all its weight.

Veteran warrior he is, he quickly tumbled to the side, resulting in the creature hitting the ground head first. There wasn't much to be celebrated, for Armar was pierced through his chest by the creature's long, muscular, tail that ends with one mean stinger.

Alric, Richter, and Arder rushed in around the creature, with the horned warrior delivering a mighty blow. Myst went the safest distance he could before peppering the flying snake with arrows. Reedo was bravely hiding in the bushes, until he had a brilliant idea of trying to pin the creatures wings with the grappling hook. Unfortunately, we did not get to see if that plan would work, for the creature flew away, roaring sheepishly; Armar still hanging on its tail.

Just as they were discussing what to do, out brave band could hear another roar, which somehow seemed even deeper and louder than the previous one. They quickly grabbed their backpacks, and made a run for it, leaving behind their other belongings.

Everything from then on was a mad dash for survival, a blur of darkness, sweat, adrenaline, and thick musk of fear. Another creature nearly took Reedo away, his beginner's luck kicking-in. Our band ran and ran through the darkness; they ran despite their muscles screaming, despite branches marking their skin, despite breaths burning their throats; they ran until the sun started to rear its wonderful head.

And then they collapsed in whatever grass looked safest.

Thawmist 14th–16th

Their rest was cut short by arrival of Saga-Bhoy. and his vocal entourage of women and children. Given the altercation between one of the fine ladies and Saga-Bhoy, it seemed like our lover-boy was better at lovin' than earnin.' Luck was on his side, for he just stumbled upon a group of adventurers seeking treasure! Beat up ones, but still, seeking treasure.

And so our adventurers kept pressing on, exhausted but determined. They'd stop at nothing, and run from everything. Their muscles were screaming, their bodies aching, but their spirit was ever strong.

Until they ran into a group of three titanic humanoids smashing a pile of rocks. Much to their horror, one of the figures turned its head to them; the hang of its large jaw revealing the lack of intelligence. “Kleetus, my friend, don't you remember me?!” Saga-Bhoy ousted. The silence was deafening. Creature turned back to its rocks, which seemed to be much more amusing than this band of squishies. Having parleyed enough, the party was quick to leave. Some claim Saga-Bhoy had a tear in the corner of his eye.

Our heroes marched through day and night, stopping only to satiate their most basic human needs. Exhaustion started seeping into their minds, fogging their judgement and critical thinking capabilities even further. It was no surprise that almost cost them their life.

Dragging themselves down the hills they've just traversed, slogging through increasingly jungle-like woods, the party was lucky to have Reedo's keen ears pick up some far noise. Exasperated party hid themselves in the foliage, whilst Reedo went on to explore... Hidden in foliage as well, of course.

Lo and behold, there was a camp of some 40-ish humans. They were engaged in violent discussions, passionately speaking of revenge, “taking back what is theirs,” and some “accursed hunchback.” Having heard enough, Reedo informed his compatriots, and they continued their march.

On the dusk of Thawmist 16th, our band finally reached Rantar's keep. Make-shift, flea-ridden beds never looked so good.

Player's Session Reports

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Owsley Thief level 1 A rugged survivalist dressed in greens and browns carrying a special-made spear quiver.
Saga-Bhoy Thief level 1 A slender man of many careers, including, but not limited to: gambling, almanac-writing, and pranking.
Jaha Dwarf level 1 An old dwarf looking for some adventure.
Aedh the Funereal Elf level 1 Grim and spooky. His attempts to make friends mostly consist of morbid humor.
Allon Cleric level 1 Worshipper of Umannah, the Sun God, The Radiant Death. Lawful blonde goodie.
Norval Cleric level 1 Bald, old, and bee obsessed; a true evangelist of Vidmor.

Thawmist 9th, Fireday

Another day, another adventure to be had. After some back and forth the party decided to investigate the rumours of abandoned keep south-east of Kestizar. Convinced they will find numerous riches, they opted to get themselves a proper torchboy.

It didn't take them (too) long to recruit a young man of reddish skin, a true local Antilian, who was more then eager to join them. His enthusiasm was only boosted by all the generous gifts he received—a short sword, a shield, a bundle of torches, and a single gold coin.

And so they set of to find this abandoned keep. With Saga-Bhoy's innate talent of finding the right direction, and good weather, they reached a ruin consisting of two towers and a gatehouse. Since the sun started to set, they opted to hide and observe.

Lo and behold! An hour or two later a torch lights up in front of the west tower. Unfortunately, the party was too far to make who—or what—is carrying the torch. By the time they agreed on their course of action, the figure disappeared in the gatehouse.

Few rounds of back-and-forth later, adventurers decided to circle the keep, intending to figure out if there are any other entry points, or anything of a kind. Nothing of interest was notices, besides some bats on top of the east tower.

By the time they finished circling the keep, it was proper night. Which, of course meant that now is the best time to sneak in. And so they approached the doors to the western tower—which turned out to be locked! Or stuck. But that did not deter our brave adventurers, no.

Allon, the blonde worshipper of the Sun God, shook the doors with all his might! Twice! Failing both time! Resolute as always—for no wood is to stand in the righteous path of the Sun worshipper—he took to bashing in the door with his weapon.

Figuring it is a bit difficult to strike in the dark, one of the wiser members set the torch alight and passed it to Rodolf, their most enthusiastic torchbearer. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm was cut (pierced?) short by an arrow to the neck. Others, who happened to be a bit better armoured, went unscathed. Agile Saga-Bhoy was quick to safely distance himself...

Owlsey, a thievish survivalist and certified quick-thinker, picked up the torch without delay and threw it to the east. Two bow-wielding figures came into light; one was immediately shot down by the light-footed Saga-Bhoy. His actions were rewarded by four arrows, one fatally striking him.

But lady luck did not abandon the slender lover, and he managed to both stay alive and conscious. In the chaos some (unnamed) heroic adventures tried to prop-up Rodolf's corpse as an improvised tower shield, whilst Aedh managed to break open the doors—on his first try!

The attacking figure dropped back into the darkness, and no new arrows were shot at the team. Naturally, our brave adventurers decided to investigate the tower. They did not break those doors for nothing, right?

Finding another doors at the end of relatively short corridor, Norval calls Aedh to use his opening skills. Which the latter does with gusto. Doors fly open, revealing six humans pointing their bows at them.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, stout dwarf Jaha charges in, yelling and swinging his battleaxe like there is no tomorrow. Owsley throws an improvised firebomb, burning four to death. Unfortunately, he missed the one in the corner of the room—and that one did not miss Norval, downing him with an arrow. Sad buzzing noises were heard.

Unfortunately this was not the end of it. Being now in the center of the room, Jaha noticed more figures coming at them from the north, east, and west! In no time five humans with short-swords and maces surrounded him and pummeled him like there is no tomorrow. It seemed like they didn't appreciate seeing their friends burned to death.

Proving that he indeed is stout, Jaha took the beating like a champ. Trying some of that Owsley-quick thinking he offered his coin to these fine gentlemen, politely asking them to stop roughing him up so much. They kindly refuse.

By now the party realised that tactical retreat might be their soundest option, accentuated with profound exclamations like “We're all going to DIE!!!” and “Turns out there's a lot of bandits in here, huh?”

Unfortunately, both Saga-Bhoy and Jaha were badly wounded, and required help to move, making a joint escape a tad bit difficult. The former, barely conscious, managed to escape in the darkness with Owsley's help, while the latter was helped by Aedh.

Unfortunately (again), just as Jaha and Aedh were to reach the exit, floor gave in, and both were lost to the darkness. Aedh landed face first, breaking his delicate neck. Against all odds Jaha managed to survive this ordeal as well.

Allon was resolute to wait for his friends. He oiled his blade and set it aflame, and said his prayers to Umannah. Then he oiled the doorstep, and readied a fiery trap for the pursuers. Alas, he did not count on his friends taking a downward detour.

Dwarf—did I mention how stout he is?—managed to climb out of the pit, feinting just when he crawled out. Cleric tried to drag him to safety, but was caught by two bandits and beaten unconscious. He managed to set the gate aflame before fading to black...

Owlsey and Saga-Bhoy managed to find some bushes to hide in and tend their wounds. It was dark and chilly, but they decided to take their chances, and headed back to Kestizar. Somehow they made it unmolested. Except some fluttering they heard in the darkness.

Thawmist 11th, Airday

Having a full day of rest, Saga-Bhoy and Owsley set out to recruit some new adventurers:

Character Class Description
Sybil Cleric level 1 Peppy worshipper of Vicon.
Jacob Magic-user level 1 Suspiciously young-looking magic-user with a strong dislike of poisonous gases. He also happens to be missing some teeth.
Richter Fighter level 1 Ugly looking figure with ruddy face, belching speech, and single tooth.

Being a bit wiser after their last expedition, the party set out to look for some other work. They found Euphemia, a sage dressed in emerald robe with curvy purple stripes, who happened to be looking for some muscle to escort her to a cave she'd like to investigate.

Unhappy with her offer, the party promptly and repeatedly insulted her, irrevocably sabotaging this business avenue. Who knows what might they do next?

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Adventurers

Character Class Description
Owsley Thief level 1 A rugged survivalist dressed in greens and browns carrying a special-made spear quiver.
Saga-Bhoy Thief level 1 A slender man of many careers, including, but not limited to: gambling, almanac-writing, and pranking.
Dalkanarion Fighter level 1 A youthful specimen in full strength, full of purpose, bluster, and eagerness to prove himself.
Bunzo Halfling level 1 A stout halfling with impressive beard and non-existent moustache. Happy, boisterous, and multiple-cup winner.
Jaha Dwarf level 1 An old dwarf looking for some adventure.

Thawmist 5th, Spiritday

The party met in Kestizar, a village south-west of Antil, eager to earn some coin without breaking too much sweat. Since their arrival they've learned about several opportunities, but alas, all seemed to be too much work.

Engrossed in discussion, Dalkanarion barely noticed an offensive smelly figure crawling and drooling all over him. Without missing a beat he grabbed the figure by the wrists and inquired about its intentions. 'Twas nothing but a beggar begging for coin.

The fighter demonstrated his benevolence by paying for the beggars meal—much to the dislike of local patrons. Silver-tongued Saga-Bhoy worked his hands, dropping a coin into the beggars purse, testing his thieves' cant. No noticeable response came back.

Although innkeeper didn't have any useful rumours, he did mention that there was a wealthy merchant who was supposed to arrive days ago. Perhaps he might've been eaten by wild dogs that have been sighted recently?

And so they set out to seek this pack of wild dogs that have been terrorising fair people of Kestizar. Three hours later they found dried blood leading to thicker woods. Jaha was first to notice heat signatures in the darkness—informing his companions without delay. They immediately lowered their posture and began discussing their master plan. The play was on.

The play being Bunzo stepping up and shouting insults at the largest canine that just came within their sight. After all, he hadn't left his shire just play possum in some grass. He was promptly rewarded by being bitten so hard he felt unconscious.

Jaha and Dalkanarion stood their ground in the face of five ferocious wild dogs, dishing out—and receiving—damage as liberally as they could. Owsley and Saga-Bhoy engaged with missiles from safe distance. In fact, the former managed to skewer the large canine, fixating his corpse in a standing position.

Despite losing what seemed to be their alpha, the remaining feral dogs have not relented. They party dispatched of them in two rounds... Only to hear more barking and howling incoming from the woods.

Fighter and dwarf patched their brave halfling up, and helped him walk. They noticed another pack of dogs existing the woods, just as they made some distance. These were lead by another large canine, perhaps even larger than the first one. It approached the skewered one, bumping it with its snout multiple times.

It unleashed a gut-wrenching howl. The hunt was on.

Alas, the party was too slow, and were eventually caught by a pack of rather wild wild dogs. Saga-Bhoy, ever a fast-thinker and pranker, played his kazoo franticly, utterly confusing one of the dogs. Other party members threw their rations, much to their benefit. All but the largest dog stopped to snack.

Jaha took the brunt of the new attack, reciprocating in kind by lifting the canine and cleaving in its skull with his battleaxe. Dalkanarion then lifted its corpse and threw it at the pack chewing on the rations, whilst Owlsey set one of them on fire. Remaining dogs fled with a whimper.

Leaving Bunzo to play possum in some grass, remaining adventures followed the blood trail to a half-eaten human clad in a ridiculous leather garment full of buckles and straps. They were quick to liberate the corpse of its messenger bag, which just happened to have some gold coins and a scroll case.

Victorious and rich, they returned to Kestizar with a half-eaten corpse and dog's head. That gesture was wholly unwelcome by the local militia, and the enterprising adventures were sternly asked not to bring anymore corpses to the village.

And so the party was truly welcomed to the Barbarian Altanis.

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