Snuggle Nook

Underground Home-Grown Crew II

Second year Snuggle-Nook Campaign (2010)

by Maxen » Wed Jun 09, 2010 10:43 pm
Garag waded into the foray with a hard-hitting attack, his short-sword slashing and piercing wildly yet finding it’s mark, taking chunks out of the tree-men. As they exchanged blows, a thorny branch struck Garag Tog, sending him into a wild-eyed frenzy! Berenger flew down and cast his Touch of Death spell, provoking another attack of opportunity, this time however the little flying Hobbit sucked it up and manged to keep focus. His touch hit, the gnarled old oak failed his Trauma Damage Check (Threshold of Pain, see page 101 of the Warriors Book, this over-rules the PHB and GMG ruling, we only just found this out). So the tiny Hobbit toppled the mighty oak in one foul swoop! He chalked one up to experience and moved on.

Meanwhile Keera the second let loose another Sleep spell, this time sending one of the trees into a deep dream. The others advanced, surrounding the underground home-grown crew in a myriad of flailing branches and thorny roots. Garag was hit numerous times but seemed oblivious to the pain, fighting through and taking yet another slice out of the angry plant-people. Although the wild-eyed frothing-at-the-mouth berserker couldn’t see it, our healer could. Knowing full well the Battle-Bane’s infamous reputation Berenger decided to risk it anyway. The daring Hobbit prepared a Heal spell before flying down to help his comrade in arms. Garag didn’t take too kindly to being healed (failing his intelligence check while frenzied, thus not recognising his friend). Berenger’s cage wasn’t in the least bit rattled as the chances were he wasn’t going to hit his friend, what with all his magickal armour and full-body shield the Hobbit was wearing (his effective armour class is minus five, their was only a ten percent chance that Garag would tag him, the Berserker needed a nineteen or more on a twenty sided dice to catch his fellow crew-member). Garag unfortunately rolled a twenty! A severity level twelve critical hit to his shoulder! Ouch!! Berenger (of course) was deader than justice for the common man, on a harsh minus seven hit-points (one point beneath his constitution score, so he effectively had only two rounds, a dozen seconds, to live before he bled to death! As you may tell we use -CON score rather than -10, it’s fairer).

The Algoids and magickally animated tree-folk engulfed the beleaguered adventurers, although Berenger had bought the farm, Garag fought like a lion, trading blows with the Ents. Keera waded into the melee, and in an attempt to save her dying friend, put her only healing potion to his lips. She rolled snake-eyes! Disaster! At the very least the Hobbit was stabilised and no longer bleeding to death, however her comrade was still unconscious. Garag and Keera II took a whole bunch of blows, even though several of the plant-men fumbled, one had a lucky critical on our Gnome-Titan fighter, taking a slice off his arm. Nasty.

Keera rummaged through Berenger’s back-pack and took out his last healing potion, nursing the little guy back to health. Berenger came around. Meanwhile, Garag continued to wade into the score of bad-guys attacking the trio. He hit again, caining the tree-man some. Keera took a succession of bad hits, knocking her close to death. She dived into Berenger’s Bag of Holding and the Hobbit activated his Anklets of Levitation, narrowly avoiding death once again. As he floated to safety Garag ‘came down’ off of his Berserker rage, didn’t lapse into unconsciousness and kept on sticking in there, taking the full brunt of the force against them.

Keera was healed by Berenger, who debated whether to go down and help his friend who now had six tree-men around him and a bunch more closing in. Garag looked like he was in a bad way when he was struck by another stray thorny branch once more. Though seemingly a bad thing, it was actually benificial as he was sent into another Berserker rage! Going mEnTaL he sliced up tree like it was Christmas turkey. Though unaware of how badly wounded he was, Berenger dived down bravely once again in an attempt to heal the Gnome-Titan. Once more the Berserker failed his intelligence check (which is not hard for him) but luckily didn’t hit when he took a swipe at his saviour.

Now fully restored but war-weary, the trio fought back to back against the horde of tree-men. Berenger took a few pretty nasty hits taking him down to only a handful of hit-points. Keera attacked, after deliberating whether or not to seek refuge in the Bag of Holding again. She scored a lucky hit, and took a shed of damage in retaliation. Garag – as usual – stuck in there like the warrior he is. Putting another one of the rowan down. Berenger also smacked another with a Cause Wounds, putting an oak in his place, amidst the forest loam and marshy ground from whence he grew. This caused a morale check, which the Algoids failed, and began to take flight.

This session took six hours and we only resolved the one encounter (admittedly we spent an hour creating a new character, Keera II). It was hit-or-miss the whole way through and I am not doing the write up justice as many more fumbles and criticals were scored of which I did not take note of at the time. Anyhow, it ended up with Berenger being put under deaths shroud once more, and if it wasn’t for a kindly passing lizard-man shaman (randomly rolled on an encounter table) he would have bought the farm for sure.

by Maxen » Sat Jun 12, 2010 5:15 pm
Grift-Meister’s Campaign Log, strange happenings (See Pan-Dimensional Rover entry & the jackson document)

Venturing further into Blackweed swamp brings perils of it’s own. After being patched up by a kindly lizardman shaman, Berenger notices the payment for such an extensive healing was inadvertently expensive. Before being placed under the scalpel the lizardman Priest placed all of Berenger’s unnecessary garb and jewellery in to his Bag of Holding. While there, a phantom Pan-Dimensional Rover struck and spirited away Berenger’s Anklets of Levitation! As is their way, the plane-shifter left an object of equivalent value in it’s place. A Ring of Quick Escapes.

Now stuck on the ground and having to brave the wrath of his comrade in arms, Garag Tog the Battle-Bane Berserker; the duo enter deeper into the Blackweed marshes in an attempt to unravel the mystery surrounding the statue of tefnut, stolen from the fishing village of Chala…

Grift-Meister’s Campaign Log (XV) Session on Wodensday 16th of June, 2010 A.D.

Written on Thorsday the 17th of June, at ½ past midnight. The day after Ry-ry’s funeral.

After loosing his ability to fly, the badly battered Berenger headed back into the town of Chala to buy some tools to repair his Armour, and to commission the building of a device in order to start a fire. Becoming lost in the wilderness, he found himself getting further and further away from the swamp. Eventually the little Hobbit walked into a forested area, and stumbled across a Hobbit settlement in a remote glade within the woodland. A local merchant (called Ræk) in the town (named Thurston) asked the adventurer to help find the whereabouts of his son, who was lost, wandering in the woods, without a trace. The hide-tanner also explained another that had recently disappeared. A half-elven dancing girl, vanished without a trace, at around the same time as his son. Another oddity that passed recently was the mutilation of cattle. Berenger asked to see the farmer and mutilated corpses of the livestock. Ræk obliged him, the two met the rancher who’s cattle had fallen prey to the mutilators. The cows had indeed been eaten, their vital organs eaten and blood-drained.

With a generous sum offered for safe return of Ræks son, Ferdinand. Berenger set off without further ado. Ræk Hidetanner pointed out where the boy Ferdinand was last seen before his disappearance. A clearing in the woods. Heading back to the Thurston town, the Hobbit merchant-man left Berenger to his daunting task, alone.

After searching some time, Berenger discovered a hastily concealed pair of steel-doors, in amongst some bushes. By it was a strange device, and above was a sentence written in a strange foreign language. The Hobbit knocked on the door. No answer. Studying the symbols he managed to discern that the lettering above the doors contained some similar characters found on the device to the side of them.

Then his keen Hobbit senses became aware of approaching footsteps. Using his Slip Away into Shadows skill, Berenger successfully hid himself beneath a bush. The intruders didn’t hear him either. A half-a-dozen or so black figures, some six-feet tall and with oval shaped heads (Aliens a.k.a. Dimension Demons) came into view. One of them began reading the symbols above the door and tapped out a combination on the strange device (’puter keyboard). Hoping to dash in after them, the door closed just as he came from his hiding place.

Scratching his head, the little guy didn’t know what to do. He tried the door with his dagger, which shocked for a cute seven points of damage. He healed himself with his Staff of Curing immediately. (In the tutorship of Conan this was an un-wise move, using a perishable magick item is not preferable to using a spell memorized). On nearly-failed intelligence check later, and Berenger figured out that if he were to tap the symbols above the door into the input-device, that something may happen. It did. The doors slid open (with a Star-Trek sound) to give way to a large chamber. A red button on the far side of the room glowed ominously. Taking care to stand well-back from it, the hobbit tapped it with his quarterstaff. The room shuddered and began descending at a rate. Opening out into a room surrounded with large equipment, desks and mirrors. A surprised Dimension Demon went for a bizarre looking wand. Before it could get a chance, Berenger cast Hold Person on her. Tying her up with silk rope, seventy-two seconds later (twelve rounds) the she-alien began to call for her brethren. Berenger pointed the ‘wand’ at her which soon shut her up.

Venturing through the north-door, Berenger found himself in a long steel corridor with five more doors, two pairs facing each other on the left and right of the corridor, and another lone doorway at the end. He tried the first door on the left. (Another Star-Trek sound). It led to a chamber filled with different shaped tubes. They each had one of the control devices (’puter keyboards) at their feet. Trying the first tube, Berenger placed a set of gnomish inventors tools inside it before he began pressing buttons. The machine failed to fire-up, and an organic matter symbol flashed on the device.

As if on cue, the lady-alien in the last room began calling for help again. Berenger went in there and simply coshed the woman-grey, knocking her unconscious. Dragging her into the tube, he began tapping buttons again. This time the machine started, casting light all about the place. The place was filled with an eerie blue light while the mysterious machine started. When it’s cycle had finished, the grey fell out, but was transformed into a man-grey. He came too rather bemused.

Shoving his prisoner into the next test-tube to see what it did, Berenger began tapping away on the keys again. This time it was a yellowish light that spilled out about the place as the tube-device began. The little grey fell out and immediately said, “I say! What a marvellous game, you really should try it old bean!”, in rather spiffing common language (Anglyn). The now male alien had learned elocution in a mere matter of minutes, thanks to this, training tube.

Binding his prisoner to a post and instructing him to start the cycle once he was inside the tube, lest the alien eat laser. He did so, accordingly. Berenger’s mind was flooded with information by the brain-wave enhancer. He came out of the machine knowing about Dimension Demon customs and etiquette. Our protagonist tried it again, and again, ending up with the following skills: Alien language, Botany, Alien culture, First-aid (bonus), Survival skill suite, Surgery tools and [/i]Engineering[/i]. Luckily no other Dimension Demons came along while he was doing so.

Now fluent in Gagwaller, Berenger asked his androgynous prisoner about the last two tubes. He/she replied that the third one is a cryogenic sleep chamber and the fourth, a disintegration tube. Leaving his prisoner tied-up, the preacher-man of yondall’ started down the corridor again, trying the door on the opposite side.

This room was white with the scent of ammonia on the air. A large trolley-bed with metallic straps and belts sat in the center of the room. From the center of the ceiling hung a wicked looking assortment of scalpels and other unfamiliar medical equipment. Other alien apperatus lined the walls and twelve blood-splattered laboratory coats hung on the wall.

Berenger discovered a small green cube hidden against the wall. Not knowing what it did, he moved on. The Hobbit found two taps on the wall, under which a sign which read the word “Hormones”, in Gagwaller, naturally. After a little experimentation, he found that the dark-blue tap spewed forth a liquid which would either reconfigure the gender of a female or give a male recipient a temporary strength bonus. The mauve tap did the same for a male (gender-bender), but granted a temporary bonus to a females Beauty score. Bored now of the dissection room, Berenger moved on down the corridor and tried another door up ahead.

As he entered the room, Berenger could see several cells with glowing fields of transparent energy sealing them off lined the back wall. Each cell had a control panel next to the entrance, and there was a lever on the far wall. One of the cells contained a half-elven girl wearing torn breeches and a badly stretch and ripped silk jacket, that was much too small for her. Another contained a Hobbit-lad wearing robes that were way too big. He was also wearing an over-large corset and panty-hose. The other cages were filled with various animals.

The two pleaded to be released. Berenger obliged them. They then asked if he knew a way to turn them back into their original bodies. “I know just the place.”, replied the Hobbit preacher-man. Turning back down the corridor. With his prisoner still tied up, Berenger demanded that the Gagwaller turned them back to their own form using the shape-shifting device. The Dimension-Demon refused but said their was a manual (alien dictionary) back in the living-quarters. Annoyed, Berenger rightly said in Gagwaller, “Look here, mate. I don’t want to go back to where your mates are. You will turn my friends back to their original forms, or you’ll be going in the disintegration tube over there.”. He wasn’t bluffing. The she-male alien did as (s)he was bade. In moments the two were returned to their native states.

Ferdinand said, “Quick, let’s get out of here! Which way is it? We were both unconscious when we were brought here.”. Not yet finished his exploring, Berenger said, “This way, follow me.” leading the two down further corridor, after tying up the rather confused she-male alien prisoner, of course.

The stench of something horrid assaulted the trio’s nostrils even before they entered the last door leading off to the sides of the corridor. A fetid odour of unwholesome things roiled from the room in a thick miasma of rotting decay. Strange meowing and scratching sounds could be heard from within.

Upon inspection, they saw a sight so repulsive that Alyssa the half-elf began blowing chunks. Neither Ferdinand nor Berenger bubbled (puked). What they saw however was a mutilated and twisted mixture of bodies. Humanoid and animal alike, which twisted and thrashed behind an energy field. Tentacles and tongues sprouted from misshapen heads and eyes which lolled from their sockets, as a wave of mutated flesh rolled as a mass. There was no definite individual within the coiled sinew, but more a single entity that manifested various singular traits. A malformed head gurgled through a pus and slime dripping tongue two words made poignant by the atrocity of it’s situation saying, “Kiiiiilllll Meeeeee!”. Berenger switched off the energy field briefly before giving the thing a mercy killing. Levelling his laser at it, he put the thing out of it’s misery.

Done with the rooms either side of the stainless steel corridor, getting to the last door at the end. Opening the door to the final chamber revealed a large circular pad decorated with glowing symbols, that took up the center of the room. Flashing lights winked from various consoles around the room, and five bright globes illuminated the area. The control panel seemed far more complicated than before, yet the activation button was obvious.

Berenger placed a set of gnomish inventors tools on the circular pad then hit the activation button. They disappeared in a flash of light. It seemed as though the trio had come to a dead end. Berenger discerned after a while that this was a teleportation device to the Gagwaller home-world. Leaving the place alone, they headed back down the corridor from whence they came.

Up ahead of them came five tall alien figures approaching them in the distance, laser-guns trained on the trio. One of them Berenger recognised as the trans-gender prior prisoner he had taken. Fortunately the aliens were surprised and our hero wasn’t. He let loose a beam from his Gagwaller ‘wand’, searing one of them in a bad way. Then he threw a quarterstaff to the hobbit boy, and his Hammer Mijolneer to Alyssa the ½-Elf. The group closed in, knowing that through that group of aliens was the only way out of the complex. The Gagwallers returned fire on the greater threat, five scorching beams of incandescent light spewed forth from their laser-guns. Only one clipped Berenger, burning him pretty bad. The other two (hobbit-lad and ½-elf woman) moved further down the corridor, closing the distance between the two groups.

Berenger tried another shot rolling a one, disaster! He shot himself in the foot (as a result of rolling on the D1000 fumble table). The aliens put down another volley, striking both hobbit-lad and ½-elf, damaging them seriously, with Ferdinand being taken down to only a single hit-point! Another alien levelled his laser at Berenger, he too fumbled, his laser-gun was now rendered broken, useless. The other two fired. One rolled a critical-hit on Berenger! Luckily it worked out to be less than a severity-level zero so had no additional effects. The last alien to fire fumbled and was flat-footed for the next round.

Alyssa threw the hammer, which missed and then returned to her hand magickally. Ferdinand also missed. Alyssa was struck and went down (failing her threshold of pain check). Seeing imminent disaster, Berenger prepared a Touch of Death spell in hand-to-hand combat. The attack of opportunity was a hit, smacking the little guy down to only a few hit points. Touching his comrades and triggering the Ring of Quick Escapes meant the three teleported the hell out of there. The teleportation was not without error, however they didn’t end up inside a tree or some such.

Heading back to the village of Thurston, Ferdinands father was overjoyed to see his son alive and well. Ferdinand made good on his promise, Ræk offering a 20% share from the profits of his tanning business. That and a straight lump sum of gold (about a grand I think). Alyssa also wrote out some scrolls for Berenger, though being a priest, he couldn’t use them. The ½-elven wizardess gave him: Bash Door, Ralph’s Placid Arrow, Minor Sphere of Perturbation and Imaginary Friend.

(This adventure was the ‘Gagwaller Research Outpost’ by Solomon Fæborn, Hack-Journal #4, page 13)

This was a solo session, as attendance has been pretty bleak recently. We need more players as everyone else apart from Berenger seems to be too busy.

Some people I roleplayed with before (we were in a band together) have asked me to G.M.a game in Spain, he’ll pay for the flight as I am to be a guest G.M.of Honour. It is a real Honour, even if it means brushing up on my Spanish some. I’ll write that whole session up.

Saturnsday the 19th of June, 2010 A.D.

Okay, so the latest news-flash is that all bets are off. Conan was (understandably) put-out that I couldn’t make it to the solstice, seeing as he’d taken time off work. He’ll probably get over it. He’s not the only one I let down, Garag was supposed to accompany me. Then I was planning on seeing a certain Senorita in the south. It’s a crying shame. So, disappointment all-round from the Max-Meister, especially seeing as I had a gig tomorrow, after which we were supposed to roleplay. Not to worry. I’ll just have to see about getting some time off my new job, though that doesn’t look likely, at least not any time soon. Even so, we will be getting some roleplaying in as soon as we all have some free-time again.

G.M.’s Campaign Log XIII, Moonday the 12th of July, in the year of our Lord 2010 Anno Dominii
Written by Grift-Meister Maxen the Saxon at midnight

The Second Solo Sesh’

Heading home to the Dingy Pirate States, a series of islands found in the West of Snuggle Nook; Berenger the Priest of Yondal’ rounded up his crew (some two score peoples, mainly fellow hobbits and the congregation from his Temple leased there. They manned out the Sweet Mary III, their rather large Cog with three sails (main-sail, genoa & gib), Mary III was some 120’ long, was manned by all the congregation N.P.C.’s but also by two new henchmen, Meldor the Battle-Mage (apprentice to Kroon) and the more familier Kryleena.

They set out southward on their journey, white sails dipping as Mary III cut through the waves with relative ease. Seeing a number of half-a-thousand deadly flying fish, also some giant sea-horses and other sea-creatures that regarded them with indifference, all went by past in the weeks that followed. The Sweet Mary Jane the Third dropped anchor in the port of Malar on the remote and plauge stricken Island of Byrona. This sleepy town was nestled between a secret snow-covered pirate-cove. Icicles hung down like frozen fingers in hap-hazard jagged rows along every roof and walkway. A thick layer of freshly fallen snow carpeted the small sea-port, some foot thick. Entering the Tallfeather Tavern, the nineteen crew-men and three heroes walked into the bar.

The minstrel went quite, a moment of silence as a small sea of faces regarded the group with all too apparent suspicion; that was before quitely talking, murmuring and sharing dark murky mugs of strong drink. Once at the bar, Berenger asked for a pint of Gut-Bruiser, the bartender charged him a crown (the going rate being only a half-crown). The frown on the hobbit was evident before the barman poured him a Finch-Yager chaser, on the rocks with a twist, on the house to boot.

The locals were at the end of the bar and watched the newcomers out of the corner of their eyes whilst keeping a low conversation. Berenger downed the pint only just making his alcohol resistance check, the little hobbit kept it down, earning him four points of temporal honour and an increased social reaction modifier with the locals. The gruff crowd praised the priest for being a man, urging him to finish his Amber-Brew chaser-shot of Finch-Yager shouting, “Down it! Down it! Down it!”. All the while stamping their feet and slamming their tankards against the bar in-time with the chant. Once again the hobbit did well, keeping the drink down. Wiping the excess liquid from his mouth, Berenger offered the bard another drink.

In the corner some rough looking types talked and drank near to a large treasure-chest which seems to the present subject of their banter. Another group of strangers sat in the opposite corner near the door through which they came in. See the photo here: (Tavern-map here http://www.myspace.com/maxwelllatham/photos/46199612#a=0&i=46199610)

By now a score of little hobbits stood on barstools and on one anothers shoulders in order to be served while Berenger offered to buy the bard a glass of whatever he wanted. The orpheus accepted then began to recount the two centuries or so of history that belonged to the very public-house they were stood in. The Tallfeather Tavern. “T’was said to have been called the Grey-Badger some one-hundred years ago, but originally the Tallfeather was named The Goblinn. The Tallfeather Tavern was rumoured to have once been the best building in the here village of Malar; that was before a fire struck the place. The inferno consumed the coaching-houses owner and daughter, who legend says her spirit still walks these halls at night in ghostly, ethereal form,singing a sad ballad…”, the musician paused for breath, that and a sip of real-ale, letting out a loud belch before continuing, Orpheus spake thus, “The blackened stone of the south wall is part of the original building, but the rest is newly renovated. Anyway, if you will excuse me gentlemen, I must take my leave of you for I must set-to, play a tune or two for my vices.”. He took his place sat down near the fireplace and playing on his Buitar (which coincidentally is known as a Ganjo).

After draining his tankard completely, sparking up his pipe with adroit swiftness, savouring the hobbit pipe-weed a mere moment; before bursting in to song, singing an upbeat, hazy resonating riff on his Guit-banjo. The lyrics spake that Malar is a tired little village that has done nothing but collect the farmers from the hills to work in the mills. Draughted, disgruntled, weary people. With the men gone to work in the mills, mines and industries of the towns outside of the shire, the wives and women-folk were subsequently persecued by the corrupt legal institutions; accused of witch-craft. Accordingly, should the woman weigh the same as a duck, then she’s made of wood, then they are to be burned. Peoples weight has been included in the annual cencus, and thus common knowledge. However, if she somehow didn’t weigh the same as a duck, the accused is to be dunked in water, drowned. Anyway.

(Log re-started some month, in real time, after the event, my memory is hazy on the details. However, I’ll do my best to keep it accurate).

The bard regailed him with other tales of the locality before the doors to the Tallfeather tavern suddenly burst open. Some stalwart looking fellows entered with a cold gust of wind, that seemed to match their mood. Pointing accusingly at the men in the corner, the head dwarf spoke, “You have stolen goods about you in that chest in the corner there. That is ill-gotten gains belonging to me, Thorynn Oakstaff and the Grogny clan. Hand them over and once, then come with us, lest you suffer the wrath of dwarven law!”. To which the accused replied, “Do your worst! Finders keepers!”.

Berenger tried to appeal for calm saying, “Gentleman! Gentleman!”. However, t’was to no avail as a bar-room ensued rapidly thereafter. Bar stools were wrapped around heads, tankards flew every which way and Berenger entered into the melee fighting both sides at once. (As it’s been a few weeks, I’m sketchy on the specifics). I remember Berenger scoring a critical. The dwarves drew arms. Berenger then used spells, Cause Whatever. The fight ended with the dwarves capturing the accused. Our hobbit protagonist appealed for calm. The dwarves mercilessly executed the prisoners (woe betide anyone standing between a dwarf and his gold!). Berenger waded in again then Kryleena, Kroon and Berenger hammered the Grogny clan members for their ruthless execution. We’ve another session going on tomorrow. I’ll (of course) keep y’all posted. Stay on the flex! Max-out, for the now.

HOME-GROWN CREW: Pixie-Kin Brew. (One off experiment due to a change of heart, confionce)

Moonday the 2nd of August, in the year of our Lord, 2010 Anno Domini. Midnight.

Campaign Log written by Maxen the Saxon; Grift-Meister: Garag ‘Hannibal’ Tog.

On the slopes of a mountainside, a weeks walking distance away from the capital-city: Croatoor, four motley travellers relaxed in amidst the grassy banks of Fernwickle Isle. They had met at a festival where much revelry and merriment was to be had. Joining together, the four men chilled out in the sunshine, watching butterflies flit from flower to flower, nursing a shocking hangover and smoking perhaps too much.

First their came Saemus O’Finnigan Junior, a lot like his old-man, a renegade sorcerer (technically a Wild-Mage/Rogue or ‘Theif’). Hobo-looking, unkempt and grubby, the little leprechaun was the un-loved offspring of the legend that was Saemus senior. A band-geek during college, and an adept student, expert with barbed darts as weapons, Seamus Jr. was the sneaky so-and-so of the crew. Chaotic-Neutral, spell-slinger and rogue.

Secondly their was Iorran, a faerie Battle-Mage. (Previously Berenger) Little was known about this man save that his spell-list is more offensive than most, and that he is proficient with both slings & staves. A misguided man, near-sighted and wearing green robes. Also Chaotic-Neutral.

(I’m doing this purely from memory, I don’t have the character sheets to hand; not to worry!)

Next came yours-truly, Anorpheus (‘Norph for short). A priest (zealot) of oberon, the pixie gawd of magick. A little sprite that worked in an urban-ghetto soup kitchen, helping the poor and needy. He was transformed by a vision, ’Norph “Saw gawd” whilst sober (thus negating his ’little-faith’ quirk!). Basically my character rocks-ass, being able to use most priest spells and any magick-user spell scrolls he finds (until I buy a spell-book, then I can use wizard spells by sacrificing two slots of cleric spells). I’m Lawful-Neutral just like my gawd. Here is my character:

Alignment: Lawful-Neutral; Class: Lower-Upper; Age: 23; Gender: ♂; Height: 1’ 8”; Weight: 25 lbs;
Hit-Points: 13; Hit Dice Type: D2+2; To Hit Bonus: -2; Damage Bonus: -4; Social Reaction Adjustment: 0;
Eyes: Violet; Skin: Pale; Handedness: Right-Handed; Fame: 0;

STR: 5 (79%); DEX: 14 (72%); CON: 12 (35%); INT: 18 (25%); WIS: 18 (39%); CHA: 7 (73%); BEA: 12 (75%);
Honour: 14; Honour Dice: D1; Armour Class: 6 (Brigandine);

Quirks: Hearing Impaired, Self-Absorbed (Thinks he’s the messiah), Animosity towards Fuzzy Honey Bees, Glutton, Intrusive, Bald, Truthful & Nincompoop (Jerk);

Weapons Permitted (by Religion): Bloodthorn Weapons (Quarterstaff, Club & Stilletto), Knife & Dagger + Any Bludgeoning Weapons;
Weapon Proficiencies: Quarterstaff, Sling;

SKILLS, TALENTS and PROFICIENCIES:
See page 15 Pixie-Fae Handbook for details of sprite natural abilities. (Including flying, going invisible, telepathy, never surprised and spell-abilites!)
Aerial Acrobatics (Grants 4 to AC in non-bulky Armour), Faerie Kind Martial Arts (2 to hit and damage in melee), Quarterstaff proficiency, Magic Bonus (Grants a +1 bonus to saving throws against magick), Hit Point Bonus, Exp. Bonus, Concentration, Counter-Spell, Curse Resistance, Eagle Eye, Precision Casting, Quick Casting, Second Sight, Reading & Writing, Arcane Lore, Alchemy, Astrology, Religeon (General), Spellcraft, Religeon (Oberon), First-Aid Skill Suite, Tumbling, Juggling, Play Stringed Instruments, Poetry Writing, Comprehension and Interpretation, Singing;

Spell Spheres: Devotion (2), Divination (6), Elemental – Fire (7), Necromancy (6), Summoning (7), Sun (3) & Warding (7);

Items and Treasure of note: Pixie-Fae Beret, Bag of ‘Not so’ Hefty Capacity (50lbs), Two Pixie-Purses containing: 24 Gold pieces, 24 Silver pieces & 23 Electrum pieces; A Bloodthorn Quarterstaff, a sling, some common robes, a vial of holy water & finally a golden holy-symbol of Oberon: a sewing needle.

Experience Points: (Approximately about) 1,300; Exp. Req. to advance to next level (Acolyte): 2,201.

Notable events: Saw gawd when sober (which negated the ‘little faith’ quirk). Anorpheus worked in an urban ghetto, a soup kitchen; he helped the poor and the desperate. He has a knack for lateral thinking.
Birthday (7th day of Yurn’Sa: Pin’Mar)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! The final member of our motely crew was another leprechaun. An artificier known as Xavien. A merchant, a trader and manufacturer of curios. The newcomer was welcomed and accepted into the group. Despite the fact he had a whopping disadvantage of not being able to cast spells that directly effect living things. Harsh! Comes with the territory, being an Artificier (a.k.a. ‘Itemist’).

The group made their way northwards to the capital. Initially following a river (as no-one had the skill ‘mapless travel’), before Iorran had the idea of flying up high to see where the meandering body of water flowed. From his new vantage poiny he discerned that it would have led the three astray because it turned back on itself, running southwards. With this new-found knowledge, the three of them continued on a bearing heading (flying) north-east, directly towards Croatoor. T’was a clear sunny morning and the three could see the spiralling towers and mass of buildings in the hazy distance.

T’was not the only thing they could see. Four tiny figures flying straight towards them appeared on the horizon. The two groups closed, upon further inspection, the four could see that it was a small troupe of wizards, all pixie-faeries and sprites. “Ho their fellow travellers!”, exclaimed the head-wizard in the group in greetings. “Well met!”, ‘Norph replied. The pixie-wizards they had met were offering to sell magick-items to the crew. ’Norph said in the butterfly language to Xavien, “Shall we…relieve them of their goods?”. After some deliberation, ’Norph asked if he could interest them in a sling and bam! A silver bullet went straight for the lead wizard’s head. He earned an alignment infraction point towards the dark-side for that! A ruck ensued. A volley of magick-missiles spewed forth from the pixie-fae wizards, slamming into our group. We returned fire with magick-stones and darts. Some of which found their targets, doing only pitifully small amounts of damage. Iorran moved in for the kill, weilding his quarterstaff. Wham! A severity-level fourteen critical hit to the shoulder meant he took one down! First blood to the home-grown crew! The little pixie-wizard fell four-hundred feet towards the earth, unconcious, the little pixie sank slowly into the mire.

Saemus let-rip with some more darts, as did ‘Norph, both found their targets but did only tiny amounts of damage again, having little effect. The pixie’s returned fire, slamming into Iorran and Xavien. ’Norph quickley risked an attack of opportunity to heal Iorran. He kept his concentration, finishing the incantation then healing the Battle-Mage. Meanwhile, Iorran tore into another one, messing him right up with another beating from his quarterstaff! They returned fire again, bolts of greeny-blue incandescent energy slammed into the home-grown boys. Shaking it off, Iorran sucked it up; as did Xavien. The one wizard attacking Iorran sweded him, knocking him back down to about six hit-points or so.

Retribution came swiftly as Xavien lobbed another missile at the now enemy wizards, his aim was true, he struck the fae-magicker knocking him down another peg or two. ’Norph cast another healing spell on Iorran, provoking another attack of opportunity, the priest of oberon (yours truly!) healed his buddy in good time; meanwhile Iorran kept in there, this time felling his opponent. Another one bites the dust, as they say, falling several hundred feet only to sink in to the swamp. Saemus Jr. lobbed another barbed dart at the nearest hostile wizard, interrupting his spell. The last active pixie-fae wizard launched another magick-missile, this time taking a chunk out of ’Norph. (Aaargh! I was down to only six hit-points by now!) Fresh round and ’norph prepared another healing spell, Iorran swiftly (and actually quite bravely) rushed in to attack another Pixie-wizard. Bolts of energy flew all around and one hit Xavien. ’Norph healed him using his last Cure Light Wounds spell. Sucking it up, ’Norph returned to the foray, drawing his Bloodthorn-Staff. Saemus kept putting down fire, a fumble, disaster! Luckily the result on the D1000* table was only that the barbed dart was damaged. He discarded it, drawing another. * Which, coincidentally is absent in lesser versions of D&D, namely path-looser and W.o.W. sorry, fourth edition!

The remaining wizards fled, rather wisely. (Though I was baffled as to why they must make an INTelligence check and not the more appropriate morale check. Tensions were running high at this time and Hannibal doesn’t like people questioning his authority so I, rather diplomatically, kept shtum. I’ll pick him up on it next session.) ’Norph fumbled his attack of opportunity, the resulting D1000 table indicated that he dropped his Bloodthorn-Staff; he flew down quickley to retreive it. The others put some fire down and Iorran made his attack of opportunity; even so, the remaining two wizards made it away clean, being able to fly faster than everyone else in the group (except Iorran and ’Norph).

So, the group flew down. Notes were passed, Saemus Jr. (true to form) tried to serrupticiously steal all the treasure, like the theif he is. ‘Norph was nearest, and pointing out that in Hack-Master theirs a rule: if the player managed to take the adversary down single-handedly, then he is entitled to all the spoils. Fair is fair, so ’Norph the lawful-neutral priest took all the items he could (which Hannibal ruled was none as the pixie was so-far sunken into the swamp) and would’ve handed them directly over to Iorran.

The home-grown crew swiftly formulated a plan to use Saemus Juniors 150’ of silk rope to pull the corpses out of the mire after throwing the rope over a large tree-branch. Xavien tried to use his Cloak of the Manta Ray but Hannibal ruled he couldn’t because the water was too thick. Hmmm. Anyway, ‘Norph attached the rope to the bodies, Saemus Jr. the tree, everyone helped pull them up. Though the treasure was rightfully his, Iorran divided the loot equally. Very generous indeed. Among the loot was a couple of scrolls, some Lv4 Ice-spell and a Lv5 Fireball type spell (I think, as I said, I’m writing this purely from memory). Also two more Bags of Holding, and two more pixie-pouches. Some 22 G.p. each, 24 S.p. each & 23 Electrum each.

’Norph had ran out of healing spells and asked if anybody wanted to make use of his First-Aid skills. Hannibal advised that he was more likely to do more harm than good, to which the priest said to the big face in the sky (the Grift-Meister), “Tosh! Hogwash! Look!”, then proceeding to sew his own wounds, did himself a point of damage. Coughing non-chalantly and trying not to seem in pain, Anorpheus sucked it up. The others refused his healing.

Pressing on to investigate the caves that the pixie-fae mages had spoke of (that I realise I neglected to mention beforehand, I was just itching to write up the fight, and my opening shot with the sling was pretty kewl I have to admit. I should have had the element of surprise, but was denyed it on the basis that sprites can’t be surprised. However I am playing a sprite as well so that should have negated it. Anyhow, hindsight is fruitless, and Hannibal will learn eventually. He did really well actually, considering it was his first session as Grift-Meister). ’Norph cast Create Water as the others went to look for food.

So, bypassing Croatoor, heading due north and looking for caves with magickal treasure inside, the four came across a hobbit village. They could see a bard, ’Norph tossed him a coin. The fellow orpheus asked him what he would like him to play. ’Norph replied, “Why a song, of course!”. The musician stranger said, “But what song?”, “Any song. Just sing us a song lad! Whatever you feel like.” then he threw another coin down. The bard finally struck up his flute. He was very average.

So, the home-grown crew began to busk as well. Saemus began playing his bagpipes, ’Norph joined in on his sea-sick steve style lute he had fashioned out of old bits of wood, he also began singing. Xavien cast illusions, they all used their Dancing Lights abilities. They had only two hobbit spectators. Iorran successfully seduced a passing wench, who threw down coin. A dozen or more spectators joined in, throwing down more money.

Then they all went to the only tavern in town, aptly named “The horses arse”. (Dave, don’t shoot the messenger here and ban me again, I didn’t make up this name but Hannibal did. I’m just documenting the session as accuratley as possible.) Iorran tried to seduce the barmaid but this time failed miserably, she gave a ‘tsk!’ then seemingly accidentally slopped some ale on his sleeve as she passed. Saemus looked for another leprechaun and found one (only a 5% chance of doing so, but made it!). Xavien kindly bought the stranger-kin a drink. ’Norph went off to do his laundry, then get a good nights sleep. Iorran poisned ’Norph with strong drink in his fresh-water as he was not partaking in the nights merriement, getting drunk. Iorran, Xavien and Saemus were all well wasted. Iorran went looking for a mediaeval fantasy traffic cone to wear, but instead found only a pair of frilly knickers. Deciding it would be a good idea to adorn his head with the garment, he wandered round hiccuping and shouting the occasional slurred phrase.

Saemus had stashed the bodies in his Bag of (not-so) Hefty Capacity and decided to poison the towns water supply with one of the dead pixies. Xavien heard the splosh and raised the alarm. The hobbit guardsmen arrived on the scene and began questioning Xavien. Saemus was long-gone and still invisible. Then Iorran turned up with the womens underwear on his head, blubbering on about this and that, very drunk indeed. The guards asked Xavien, “Is he with you?”, to which the crestfallen leprechaun said, “I’m afraid so…”. It didn’t look great in the eyes of the law, however, Xavien was entitled to a reward. The cops offered him drink. Xavien refused, asking for coin and was given a token sum.

The next day, ’Norph memorised all healing spells and healed the crew. Then all four were immediately pulled in for questioning. It was a pretty harsh grilling. As ’Norph was nowhere to be seen he was heavily under suspecion. The hobbit watch-sergeant asked him, “Where were you last night?”. The priest told him, “Up the horses arse!”, he also mentioned that he was a man of the cloth and rightfully explained that he was (perhaps) the only upstanding, lawful citizen among the crew. Not only that but he has sworn an oath to only speak the truth. It was touch-and-go for a moment, but ’Norph made it away clean. The others were given a savage interrogation and only through some quickly thought up alabies did they escape the long arm of the law.

Iorran chalked up two kills and was awarded the M.V.P. award (Most Valuable Player), he levelled up to second level Battle-Mage. Stay on the flex! Max-out.

Okay, so I accidentally pasted-in two of the same log here. This means we’re possibly missing one. I will go home now and re-read the blog entierly then paste any peices I’ve missed. Not only that, but I’ve actually had another sesh’ with a different group since then. Though t’was only a one-off, I have some notes still and will paste it up here on the site as soon as I can. Until then, Max-out.

Well, here’s the first instalment of the one-off session, enjoy! (More coming soon).

G.M.‘s Campaign Log (One off try-out sesh’)

THE Jr. VETERAN SESSION (Part I)

Written and run by Grift-Meister Maxen the Saxon

This session was nestled neatly between the last two session of Snuggle-Nook. Another group, from way yonder over the hill, in these ‘ere parts. These veteran roleplayers adopted the various guises of past players in the exsisting campaign, namely the exiled Hannibal’s Silchas Anasurimbor (will eventually retrieve the real character names!), Conan’s G.I. Joe (Gragnor Strongfoot) & Jane, with finally, Keera Hemlock II (now the third).

Breakdown of equivalent characters: In order of leadership eligibility (i.e. Credibility – see top of the thread for details)
Joseph Ironhand: Gragnor Strongfoot. Level 3 gaerdal-titan (gnome) Warrior (Soldier).

Jane Matahar: this player adopted the same name. She’s known throughout as Jane Junior. Level 3/3 muti-classed
Rogue-Preistess (cleric/thief) of Baravar Cloakshadow, the gnomish gawd of deception.

Silchas Anasurimbor: [Forgotten name used, will fill it out a.s.a.p] Level 3 wood-elven Druid

Keera Hemlock the third: [Forgotten name used, will fill it out a.s.a.p] Level 2 black-elf (drow) Battlemage

So, a motely crew of would-be adventurers (each only about level three) journeyed along the road to Indigo, a town in the next shire. Along the way the four travellers happened upon a farmer who told them (rather conviniently) of a nearby adventure site, he also warned them about the place being heavily guarded, but that a good yield of treasure may be found there. In a typically-broad west-county accent the gruff yeoman said, “Juz go up ‘ere ’bout ’aalf a miohl or so, an ’ere zis big sign, Io caan’t readz it but me lad tells me it sez summink loike: ‘Low level adventure this way’, painted gailey in zem broight coluurz. ‘Ee ’az uh big arrer pointin’ up this trail lioke.” The new-crew thanked them for his advise and proceeded to the area in question.

(Grift-Meister’s note: I didn’t have anything planned for this session so recycled a pre-fab’; also, I wasn’t on-form G.M.ing what with the clinical camera’d-up environment, not being able to smoke, nor drink. Well, at least that’s my excuse for not being 100% that day)

They found the place without too much trouble (a hug day-glow green sign with an arrow pointing up the path a way kinda helped!). Gragnor Strongfoot, true to his name, readied himself (and his rather strong-foot) to bust down the door; that was until Jane-Junior found a key under a welcome mat. Stopping her side-kick from side-kicking the front-door down, she tried the key in the lock, surely it worked. (Incase you hadn’t guessed, it’s Caskayton re-visited). The mp3 recordings, oops, sorry, magick-mouths started their warnings. Soon enough the four new-comers found themselves in the (now desered) room of the failed-quest. Splattered (and now year-old) corpses of a hapless adventuring party who met a grizzly fate. Stepping past them and the mp3 magick-mouths, they found nearly nothing on the bodies then started down the T-junction, west, along the left-hand path.

After a sucession of G.M.-rolled checks, and some find/remove traps rolls from Jane Jr. meant the pit-trap with falling boulder trap they were all about to enter was disarmed. Lowering Gragnor down on a rope, he discovered water at the bottom of the pit. Enclosed within a natural cavern, their were four doors housing corridoors that lead in opposite directions. Lowering everyone down (after attaching the rope to the boulder) the new four found a maze of smoke and mirrors, blatantly designed to confuse would-be treasure hunters, not unlike themselves.

Going back up and out of the pit, back down and round the corridor, the crew took the eastern turning in the T-junction splatter room. It curved around, the crew took the first left (again, heading in easterly direction) and happened upon the first of many doors, leading off down the two passages in site. It lead to a trophy-room where the wizard was unable to identify one of two magick-sword he had found. One was a just a regular broad-sword +1, whereas ‘Silchas’ sucessfully identified the other as a cursed broadsword -2. (Which, coincidentally didn’t impair him too much, as although it was stuck in his right hand, being an elf: he’s ambidexterous, so it was only potential spell-faliure, and subsequent wild-surge D1000 table to worry about. Well, that and trying to text. Ooops, back to reality. Or is that fantasy? ’Tis sooo blurred.)

They ransacked the place for anything of value, found little, then explored another room on the opposite side of the corridor. It was an old museum. After taking anything semi-precious or of-value, the crew heard a ghostly “wooooOoOOOOOOOoooo” coming from down the corridor. It was a nest of half-a-dozen Ghasts!

[pasted in later on]
Junior Veterans group (Part II) – one off session (written and run by Grift-Meister Maxen the Saxon)

Breakdown of equivalent characters: In order of leadership eligibility (i.e. Credibility – see top of the thread for details)
Joseph Ironhand: Gragnor Strongfoot. Level 3 gaerdal-titan (gnome) Warrior (Soldier).
‘Silchas Anasurimbor’: [Forgotten name used, will fill it out a.s.a.p] Level 3 wood-elven Druid
Jane Matahar: this player adopted the same name. She’s known throughout as Jane Junior. Level 3/3 muti-classed gnome Rogue-Preistess (cleric/thief) of Baravar Cloakshadow, the gnomish gawd of deception.
‘Keera Hemlock’ the third: [Forgotten name used, will fill it out a.s.a.p] Level 2 black-elven (drow) Battlemage

The Ghasts closed-in fast, neither group was surprised, the undead beings attacked immediately. As the living-dead shambled through the doorway of the museum, Keera let-rip with a magick-missile, hurting one. The main fighter (Gragnor) missed with this attack, then was paralysed with the retaliatory strike. Keera was also downed by the first wave of attackers. Savage. Then Silchas did his duty, waded in to the fight with his staff, knocking one for six. Jane considered turning-undead, decided against it then cast an offensive spell (haze clouds my mind, more than one week after this event took place) of some description, I recall it hit; fresh round, the Ghasts went last, Gragnor Strongfoot was still down, as was Keera. Jane was also hit and downed (paralysed) after a heroic spell-casting attempt, then Silchas reaped revenge by swiping at another undead beastie, hitting it for six again (I don’t mean H.P. I mean cricket, naturally). Another round. Joe made it up, back on his feet. He stabbed at a Ghast only to roll a ‘1’, fumble! The resulting D1000 table indicated that he hit his ally, we rolled to see who, it was Silchas. Nasty! Keera was still on the deck. The Ghasts and the Druid fought it out. Jane made it back to the land of the living once more. Gragnor took another attack, another ‘1’ !! We rolled the D1000, the same result, ‘attack ally’ (Note: fortunately Gragnor made his DEXterity check both times to only inflict half-damage on the poor sod Silchas); then we had to roll to see who he attacked*, lo-and behold, who should it attack (you guessed it!) Silchas, again. Stabbing the guy up twice meant our Druid wondered whether the gnomish-warrior had wronged him in another life, had some personal vendetta against him. In a moment, t’was all forgotten while they concentrated on attacking the real enemy: the undead.

  • Based on size modifiers as per ‘firing into a melee’ in the combat chapter, the art of hack, PHB.

Needless to say this was a tough fight, eventually the group knocked out one Ghast, then another, all the while being knocked down, paralysed every-so often. Then the players running Joe & Jane had to go. The other two temporarily ran their character’s for them. I remember the Ghasts breaking off their attack attempting to parley at some point (when the Jr.Veterans were all down to a minascule amount of hit-points left! Soft G.M. card.) they tried to banish the crew from the complex, to which Keera, no longer in hand to hand, opened up with another barrage of Magick-Missiles, they cained the rest of the undead, and hoarded a shed-load of treasure. (I have a list somewhere, not to hand and will type up the exact haul a.s.a.p).

Keera made level 3 Battlemage, Jane went up on her rogue-side, so is now a level 3/4 (cleric/thief). Rawk on!

G.M.’s Campaign Log (XIV) for the 6th of August, in the year of our Lord 2010 Anno Dominii
Written by Grift-Meister Maxen the Saxon at midnight.

On the frozen island of Byrona, nestled within the archapelago of the Dingy Pirate States, to be found nestled within a series of hilly-islands to the west of Snuggle-Nook. This particulalr island is located to the north, frozen ice-capped mountain villages, the town of Malar. Within the cosy yet still quite messy (claret) Tallfeather Tavern; (see accompanying image Image) whereby Berenger was haggelling down the price with his Bartering skill, selling off his old armour. The spoils of slaying the dwarven (Grogny) clan-chief Thorynn Oakstaff meant he had aquired a suit of ill-fitting Plate-Mail +3 (taking his Armour Class down to a safe -6). He had also managed to recover a Mace +1 from the slain bodies, as well as some coin.

The doors to the Tallfellow Tavern swung open again and a small dwarf entered: Stumpy; Saemus Seniors’ head racketeer, Sturm Pyre. Then a leprechaun (Saemus) materialised above Stumpy’s shoulder, shimmering into exsistance from his prior invisible state. “I knew I’d catch up with you, my network of spies are wide and vast. We suspected you would be near the temple of yondal’, up here in the Pirate-States, not far from our recent island-aquisition (Vulcan, isle of the cyclops). We caught up with the Sweet Mary Jane III after she was sighted leaving port, to the south of Fangerie.”, said Saemus slyly.
“Fancy a drink?”, offered Berenger, “You must’ve had a long journey.”
“Why-ever not!?”, replied the leprechaun. After stoking up his pipe, savouring the taste a little, then blowing smoke-rings about the hobbit.

The last of the bloodied corpses were pulled from the tavern floor, all the locals giving the house a hand, all mucking in (besides the two players), mopping up the pools of claret. After the broken bar-stools, pool-cues and splintered tables were cleared, the place seemed to feel cosy again, besides the stench. Incense was lit all about the place, and when the yokels sat back down at the bar and at tables, the room was filled with vast plumes of hazy smoke, hobbit pipeweed thick about the air. The smell of the fireplace now roaring, jade incense and mowi-mowi filled everyones nostrils, enough to distract them from the lingering odour of death that passed only moments ago.

A few rounds of Finch-Yagers and things were back to a relativly normal, peaceful, state again, in this little corner of Snuggle-Nook. That was until the door flew open again, letting in an icy chill, along with another dwarf or two. Not just any dwarf, but the sole-survivor of the foray that happened only hours ago. Berenger, unphased stepped straight up to the big feller (compared to him), grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and said, “What are you doing back here?! The cheek of it!”, the dwarf tried to calm the het-up hobbit by saying, “Wait! Stop! I am here to convey a message from the new chief of the Grogny Clan, Tyren Oakstaff.”.
Letting the dwarf go, Berenger stood there with arms cross, tapping his feet, “Well?! Speak man!”, he said.
“Well? The contents of the treasure trove were of little importance save one artifact of particular curiosity. We, the Grogny clan have a rightful claim to the dragon-krull throne here beneath Malar. In that chest was a sceptre of power, which, when the descending dwarven-king wields it, upon the dragon-krull throne, grants the rightful dwarven-king dominion over Lioness.”, the dwarf continued after pausing for breath, “The unscrupulous elves, at the last minute before the corination of soverignty, stole away our sceptre and we would ask you to retrieve it. Before you say anything let my fellow dwarven-kin here explain further.”.

The second dwarf, slightly more rotund and dressing in fine-silk renaissance-style garb spoke, “We are prepared to offer a very generous sum for you to accompany us and our companions to the village of Groenig, two-hundred leagues north of here the across the ocean, Snuggle-Sea. Our bretheren will take it from there, all we need you to do is protect us and we’ll pay you a thousand gold-crowns now and a further one-thousand five-hundred upon arrival.” (That’s 2K G.p. + 3K G.p. once in Groenig) “What say you?”. At that, the yokels started grumbling at the bar in their broad west-county accents, “Ooh arr! That’z a lat o’money for such a shart distance.”, another said: “Fuh’n roight! ‘Specially seein’ az it ’ain’t even bleedin’ infested ur nuthun.”, a third man interjected, carring a more northern red-rose county accent, “Aye! Thurs ‘owt in them ’ills. I walk it al’t time and I ’ain’t ’ad noo troubles at aall.”.

“Hmmm.”, replied Berenger, eyes darting across to Saemus, both of them seeing a potential opportunity, “We accept.”. A drink and a hand-shake later, the deal was done. Just then some of the locals left, saying their good-byes, as they were leaving a few more people drifted in. Merriment began again, the bard striking up a tune on his lute. People danced in the firelight on this dark winters evening.

A beautiful maiden came and whispered sweet nothings to both Sturm Pyre and Guriant (the P.C.‘s main character’s commanders) before long they were enticed outside by a succession of ‘Art of Seduction’ skill checks. Then Sturm Pyre came back in, eyeballs bulging, breathing heavily as though transformed by the intoxicating power of ecsatsy (Madma crystal, a.k.a. Elven Stardust.). A moment later, the Tallfellow tavern’s doors opened once again, this time only a gust of wind blowing-in once more, perhaps some sort of portent an omen, of the tragic that were about to unfold. Anyway.

Besides the brush of chilled wind that entered the tavern, Sturm seemed to be quite odd, spinning out, then, all of a sudden, dancing like a bollywood yoga-instructor, possessed by the spirit of hujaweemi and cuttin’ the rug some on the dance-floor. Unbeknownsed to our protaginists the doppelganger had slain bith Guriant and Sturm out in the stable-yard, had adopted Stumpy’s body.

So, the company rested on it’s laurels while the siren had her way; lastly a fight broke out, a stain in the driven snow, that was otherwise a perfect evening. The fact that Sturm had been acting strangely led Saemus and company to believe that something was amiss. Be sure, a ruckus ensued, with our compadres outsing the imposter then Saemus promptly peeing on the corpse of the doppelganger, attempting to gain a Chaotic-Evil based Honour bonus, for ‘urinating on an enemies corpse in full view of his comrades’ bonus. Not happening, simply because the doppelganger had no comrades, she was working alone, anyhow; Berenger squirrelled away the corpse of Guriant into his magickal bag, then the two (Saemus and he) continued to get drunk.

The next day, after Saemus pored over his spell-books (as he did every morning) and the young priest prayed to yondal’. The journey across the island the next morning was un-eventful, they met up with the Sweet Mary III and her crew, no trouble at all. They headed north, over the sea of storms, Snuggle-Sea. Our protagonists happened up a school of icthysourus, decided rather wisely to avoid.

The next night, as the Sweet Mary III cut through the gentle waves in the favourable wind, a dark shrouded figure floated on-deck, t’was none other than the scythe-weilding Death himself. Yes. The very same one from folklore, the discworld series and even Bill and Ted’s II. Anyway. He was only visible to the crewmember whom he had come to visit: one of Saemuses henchmen, however both Saemus and Berenger managed (by a stroke of luck, two passed dice rolls) to be able to percieve Death as well. After reaping the body and soul of the unfortunate victim the two little guys stared up into Death’s hood, asking a question of him. Berenger asked about Death (see image here for reply Image), whilst Saemus asked him of Buying & Selling (see reply in this image Image).

After a few more (this time un-eventful) days at sea the lookout shouted, “Land Ho!”. The home-grown crew and company had reached the port of Groenig. Dropping anchor about a mile or so off-shore, an away team was assembled. A small tender was lowered off-deck, the two dwarves stepping in. Berenger also boarded the vessel, as did Saemus. As they began to row, a storm kicked up. The sea became choppy, a swell was rising. Before the four knew what was happening the vessel capsized, a powerful whirlpool, magickally animated, dragged them all down into the deep. Panic began to take hold of the crew, flailing around as they were pulled further and further down below the ocean. After a time, they realized they could breathe! As they drifted, helpless, caught in the magick power of the dragonskull throne, they could see an ancient sea-elf sat upon the throne, a scepter in his hand. He spoke, “I shall never relinquish the scepter, nor the sea upon which I command. I, King Aelor of Seros rule this domain. I thank you for bringing my scepter back to me, but the dwarves, nor humans have no claim. Be careful as you wander my underwater city, Lioness.”.

At that, King Aelor drifted off on the throne, floating away from them in the the fading distance. The under(water) home-grown crew drifted throughout the coral crusted bottom of this mysterious place. Exploring a ship-wreck, they happened upon a load of treasure, the dwarves swam off, then the duo were set upon by a couple of sea-zombies, Berenger used his Turn Undeadto repel the two undead juju-drones. He destroyed one and Saemus’s spell casting wasted t’other one.

While searching for treasure the two heard a wailing sound, a ghostly apparation appeared. It was hostile and began attacking the hobbit and leprechaun. This time Berenger’s Turn Undead ability had no effect; both priest and wizard had some heroic spell-casting in this encounter (that is to say casting successfully in hand-to-hand combat). At the end of a bitterly fought battle aged 20 years old, while Berenger is now 126 years old (he was 66).

After the fight was over the two were leaving the wreck of the Prismatic only to see another ship-wreck falling down to the same place. They narrowly avoided being crushed, made it away clean. Until the next time.

Grift-Meister Maxen the Saxon’s Campaign Log XV, written on Wodensday the 11th of August in the year of our Lord, 2010 Anno Domini; at midnight, Greenwich Mean-Time,.

Gragnor Strongfoot slipped away from the Jr. Veterans in the middle on the night, on his watch. A funny feeling came over the man, a strange, mystical sense of foreboding. Almost as though his father, Old Joe Strongfoot (a.k.a. Gaerdal Ironhand) had warned him away from the place. A feeling of dread, as if he didn’t belong here, in this place, at this time.

As the twin-moons of Allansia hung bright in the sky, Gragnor moved down and round the corridor, out the front door of the complex (what he thought was the caverns of Caskayton, actually the McFinnigan brewery). The night was clear, a few wispy clouds, moving fast, high in the night sky. A mud-slide had caused entrance to collapse, making it impassable without proper climbing apparatus (or the ability to fly). Slipping down the embankment, the gnomish warrior made his way into the darkness. A candle in the wind (only Lv 3) with thousands of leauges to cover on his own, with no bodyguard and little coin to spare.

During his flight in the dark, Gragnor was assailed by visions of prophecy, fever dreams, glimpses of the the future. A peice if the tapestry threads that cross and weave. It seemed that the current custodians of the caverns, need-be informed of the break-in. The gawds willed it come to pass; and so it was, that the young Gragnor Strongfoot journey all the way across north Snuggle-Nook, to reach those who needs-be warned against impending danger.

Taking a slow boat from Wynar (the Sunbeam), he managed to hitch a ride on a small merchant vessel headed to the Dingy Pirate States. En route the Sunbeam was boarded by pirates. Cap’tn Hatchsang aboard the Troll slew nearly all the passengers and crew, all except the son of Old Joe Strongfoot, who fought tooth and nail to the bitter-end. Back against the main-mast, the gnome soldier took down two more raiders before being struck over the head with a belaying pin. Lapsing into unconsiousness, he fell into blackness. The void.

Awakening and being handed his short-sword, backpack, then some provisions, Cap’tn Hatchsang made the land-lubber walk the plank, after ordering the bonds on his feet to be cut. Waking only to walk to his apparant death, Gragnor Strongfoot sank deep beneath the waves…

(Righty-ho, now that’s the synopsis for a new character joining the underground home-grown crew done with let’s recount what happened in this weeks session!)

Gragnor found himself in undersea courtyard, surrounded by mainly ruined building. The gnome found that he could breathe with ease, that he had aclimatised quickly, adapted to his new enviroment. He saw two other figures swimming down, t’was none other than the enigma that was the leprechaun racketeer: Saemus O’Finnigan (Senior) with his compadre, the hobbit priest Berenger. Greetings were exchanged, and for no particular reason (save that the underground home-grown crew needed a fighter ‘avant guarde’), the three decided to go adventuring together.

Gragnor the gnome spoke, “I’ve been told by gawd-”, Berenger interjected,“Which gawd?”, “Ironhand”, “I see, please, do continue…”, “Very well. I shall”, the gnome carried on as if never interrupted, “I’ve been sent by the gawd Gaerdal Ironhand to warn you all of impending danger.” The gnome-warrior retold the story of his capture then said, “So I fear Cap’tn Hatchsang is planning on seizing any ships he thinks he has a chance of capturing along these straits. This includes the Sweet Mary Jane III; not only that, but another adventuring company has begun ransacking Caskayton, I mean, the McFinnigan brewery!”.

Immediatly Berenger pulled Guriant (the commander of his zealot-army that died at hands of a doppleganger in the stables of Tallfellow tavern during last week’s session) out of his magick Bag of Holding, then began casting Minor Raise Dead on him. He made it back to the land of the living, albeit with no possessions and one less point of CONstitution, not only that but a couple of minor quirks. Anyhow, while he was breathing life back into Guriant, his side-kick; Saemus and Gragnor noticed that they were all being watched by someone or something, hiding within a ruined temple.

Gragnor swam up to the old cathedral, investigating the watcher. Saemus followed in tow, and Berenger threw Guriant some spare leather hides he had for something to wear; that was before catching up with the crew. The prying eyes were that of a friendly mermaid*. “How am I able to breathe?”, asked Gragnor rather inquisitively. She replied, “The power of the pentagram, twinned with that of the dragonskull throne means anyone may breathe normally or act normally, as if above ground. However, it will only last until the sun sets, some ten hours away from now. Seek you the Black Pearls, for they will aid you greatly in your quest. Take this magick pendant, it will bring you good fortune**. Now…”, she blew them a kiss, “…I must take my leave of you gentleman.”, and at that, a flip of her tail and she was gone.

{ * = One free Fate-Point or Mulligan for this short adventure only, this was for Gragnor Strongfoot.}
{ ** = Grift-Meister’s note: she could have been Darahl Hannah from the movie “Splash”, who, coincidentally in real life actually plays D&D! She’s one of the few celebrities that do; although I can’t confirm it, I highly suspect that both Jhonny Vaughn and Bill Bailey game as well.}

Anyway, let’s get back to cases: Their was nothing of particular interest or value where they were, so the underground home-grown crew chose to descend further into the murky depths of Lioness. They came to a crossroads in the tunnel they were following, turned right, then descended deeper and deeper in to the watery depths, only to find a door. Being highly suspicious (rightly so, we are after all playing D&D, not only that but hard-core Hack-Master so it’s even more unforgiving!) the crew checked for traps. The door was clean, so Saemus did and open locks skill check, it was open anyway. The four felt a rush of current sweep them out of the tunnel as soon as they opened the door. It shut behind them then they saw they were beside a cliff-face, the group decided to investigate the coral cliff-face further. They stumbled upon a cavern nestled within the rock. Entering the cave, they were set upon by a pair of giant moray-eels. A few combat rounds later the moray eels were begging for mercy, one was down to only a few hit-points, the other dead. It darted out of the cave after a failed morale check, Berenger took a chunk out of it with an attack of opportunity, but the thing made it away.

Then the guys examined another ship-wreck, a galleon with a huge chunk out of her side. A clam-trap shuts on Berenger’s leg, wounding him. Then three sea-spiders crept up on the crew. Saemus let rip with a lightning bolt, toasting one of them straight away for 87 points of damage! Damaging another. Guriant and Berenger waded in there while Gragnor took up position behing some driftwood. The spiders engaged, injecting a lethal venow into poor old Guriant, downing the hobbit cavalry commander (N.P.C.), then Berenger attacked with another Cause Nasty Wounds, hurting the beast. Gragnor took a shot at another aquatic arachnid, the missile finding it’s mark. Another sea-spider decked Saemus, who failed his save vs.poison. Gragnor pulled his comrade to relative saftey behind his cover, the barricade of driftwood. Berenger took a whack at another spider before being downed himself. Gragnor attacked with his short-sword, stabbing one of the two giant sea-spiders closing-in on him; the sword finding it’s mark. Guriant came around, stood up then promptly attacked the arachnid, hitting the thang.

The crew were in a tight spot, what with half of them down; their back was against the wall, but then Saemus made it back up, tried to cast another spell, took an attack of opportunity for his troubles, failed his poison save and was down once more. Berenger attacked once more, his magickal +3 warhammer Mijolneer hitting the moray-eel for some. The fighting was fierce and the home-grown crew only just saw off the giant spiders. They found a large silver pearl within the clam and managed to exctract the glands of the spider for Saemuses botany and herbalism skills. They healed up quickly, then checked out the captain’s cabin. Here most of the furnishings were water-logged, soaked, ruined beyond use. However, one vellum chart survived in-tact. A map showing the surrounding area above land: Tarfeather Isle, Gorblimey Rocks, Fish Isle, Kestrel Isle and a skull & crossbones mark over some other distant atoll. The treasure hold opposite was ransacked, Gragnor found a lone gold-peice.

Swimming out of the ship, the crew found an underwater garden, past the gates, they looked upon the strange blue-green aquatic vegetation before taking the left hand path; finding a marble fountain, spewing forth bubbles of air, instead of water. (See accompanying image here Image) They could see something glittering within the fountain and became immediately suspicious. Even so, Gragnor reached an arm in to grab the object, and was bitten by a scorpion-fish for his trouble. The poison taking it’s toll. All that for a mere half-crown (1 G.p.). The next part of the gardens of Lioness was what looked like an orchard, thick branch-like stems of coral bore odd-looking red and orange fruit. Gragnor, nursing a sore hand refused to eat the potentially harmful fruits. The others boldy tried some, restoring hit-points. Grangor quickly followed suit.

The path curved around then the guys found a clearing. Inside was a very ordinary-looking cottage surrounded by a great iridescent bubble. Inside they could see regular land-dwelling shrugs, even a cat. They swam closer, peered through into a window of the cottage. Inside was an old man sitting at a desk. He noticed the travellers and urged them inside with a smile.

The crew met Old man Greylock, a wizard with a huffy, no-nonsense attitude about him; the crew asked if the ability to breathe underwater was comprimised when they walked through the iridescent bubble; Grelock alleviated their fears by telling them that the magicks surrounding his home would not intefere with the eight hours they had left, ‘su la mer, belle’.

Anyhow, the wizard went for a magick wand, Saemus prepped a Lightning-Bolt, everyone else backed off quickley or inched their way towards the door. Fortunatly, nothing harmful happened. Saemuses’ spell fizzled, the wand merely healed the crew. Greylock sat in his home, surrounded by many shelves and jars containing all manner of spell-components. The old man spoke, “You’d do well to find the magickal dark-pearls, only the Sea-Dragon has them; beware for she is both treacherous and greedy, but she can help you… if she wants to.”, He changes the subject abrubtly. “What about Silver Pearls have you any of them?”, “Why yes, as a matter of fact we do.”, producing one solitary white-pearl from the clam and sea-spider encounter earlier on.“Good!”, said Greylock, “The magick of the Pearl unfortunately cannot be used by any of you but t’would be very valuble to me. I would trade it to you for a potion or two, I have healing potions, ethereal form and fortune.”, Saemus handed over the white-pearl saying, “We’ll take the potion of treasure-seeking, please, the fortune.”, “Mighty fine.”, replied Greylock, handing over the bottle, adding, “Unlike most potions, this one will work underwater.” The object was a triangular bottle, with a swiirling greenish liquid inside.

“Well then,” said the old man, ’that is about all I can do for you. Hurry…"

Grift-Meister’s story-line addenum, the short reign of Gilead IV.

As though in celebration of the new king being crowned, the summer slipped benignly over Fang’. Warm, but not hot; cool, but not cold.
The rains waited until the flowers of the vines exchanged their pollen and set their clusters densely, and then gentle moisture stirred the growth. The earth gave sugar and the warm air breed. Before a single grape ripened, t’was felt that, barring some ugly trick by nature, this would be a vintage year, the kind remembered from the time when an old man was young; and the wheat headed full and yellow. The butter took an unearthly sweetness from the vintage grass. The truffles crowded one another under the ground. The geese happily stuffed themselves…everyone was content. Everyone, that was, except our new king…

The king listened silently; and he emerged depressed.
Gilead’s mind often sought shelter in the memory of his little balcony overlooking Maringay street. He could see and feel the dark and silent sky and the slow-flailing nebulæ.
Outwardly he was calm and friendly. Now and then he nodded his head, which the audience took to mean the king’s agreement and was actually only the king’s growing knowledge of government and of kingship.
He accepted loneliness, but he could not control a scurrying search for either solution or escape, and he did not find them anywhere.
Where the partisans left off the ambassadors continued. Sitting in his painted room, Gilead politely heard the neat and statesmanlike ambitions of other nations to use in Fang’, each for it’s own purpose – and again he nodded and grey depression fogged his soul…

The reason for Gilead’s sullen state of mind was unkown to anyone save the regent himself. Tracing his family-line back four generations, the reason the Gilead family dynasty had managed to stay in power was because of a young squire: Lord Gilead the first. A hired hand for a group known as ‘The Knights’, this young (at the time) torchbearer happened upon a powerful artifact: the crown of command. Throughout the family’s heritage each father to son (and so forth) explained that the source of their power need be kept close to hand at all times. The royal courtiers commisioned a luxury bag, tailored to fit the crown snuggly. Not just any bag, but a regal-looking expensive magickal accessory: a magick Bag of Holding.

Each new king (no queens as Fang, like many kingdoms are bound by Salique Law) has had this relic handed down to him, at the time of his corination. This particular king however, was not only a liberal, simple man, but a reluctant regent. T’was only because Pippin Gilead IV had no brothers that he had ascended to the throne, at the youthful age of twenty-four. His father, Athelyn Gilead III was killed trying to slay a mighty Gorgon on the isle of Kelios; and so, Pippin Gilead IV came to prominance. The only trouble was that a pesky pan-dimensional rover had stolen away the crown, and this time not replaced it with anything. Alas, Pippin (or Pip’ as he was known to those closest to him) was in a pickle. As soon as his subjects and privvy council learned of the new-kings loss, a shift in the balance of power would soon rear it’s ugly head.

Revolution. War. Death. All the things bad for both the kingdom of Fang’ and indeed the world of Snuggle-Nook would soon be; as the royal houses of the Vercingetors, the Merovingians, the Carolingians and other, less known royal houses would stake a claim to the throne. I fear (as Grift-Meister) that once our heroes return from the murky depths of Seros, a new face of Fang’ would mean a re-negociation on the tax-relief that the McFinnigan-Yondal’ consortium had enjoyed thus far. Not only that, but Capt’n Hachsang is roving the Dingy Pirate-States for plunder. Having his eye set on both the famed Sweet Mary Jane III and indeed the isle of Vulcan…

by Maxen » Tue Aug 31, 2010 5:37 pm
The Lodestone

By Vailythins Tower came the great flat lode, an area of hilly rural vista, nestled in the far southerly tip, hidden within the folds of the Lionesse hills, Dyfed, Keltoi lands. Beyond the pale of Anglyn civilization was a wild yet chilled out tribe of rebel Keltoi, Brigante of the south, the miners of Col-Deyth. From a remote monastery came Valraven Yami, a rigante Monk, wandering about the land, fresh out of the academy.

Temporal-shift time again, Saemus uses his newly aquired Teleport (Without Error) spell to whisk himself to the outta there; (there being wherever it is he was) he magically transported throughout space and time, only to appear standing right-next to Valraven here. The now usual flashing neon light sign, flickered with a huge pink arrow downwards, with the words ‘Lv5-12 adventure this way’. The Evils of Haranshire await the home-grown posse, on, and into the underdark…

by Maxen » Mon Sep 13, 2010 3:08 am
The session has started, I’m writing it up as we go right now, live web-feed coming…

Saemus is memorizing the following spells:

6 x Phantasmal Fireballs (Lv I), 4 x Side-winder Magick Missiles (Lv II), 2 x Lightning Bolts, 2 x Phantom Steed (Lv III), 3 x Fireball: Side-winder Factor 4 (Lv IV), 2 x Spell-Shield, 1 x Avoidance (Lv V); but unfortunately an opportunity to cast them didn’t present itself. T’was a mistake starting the sesh’ at 2 A.M. (Check the time I am posting this!) and was but the briefest of gaming sessions.

Valraven bought a horse, rolled for quality and rolled a ‘99’ so ended up getting a Shirkmare charger with a Headstrong personality, named him Xianyu (Mandarb in West-County). They were hired by a wizard to transport a chest of magick spell components, glyph of warded up, the group agreed on a thou’ (500 Gold-Crowns). That was after much deliberation on what the cargo was, precisely. The nature of the contents the old grey mystic kept quiet about until pushed. He opened the case to show them t’was merely spell-components, bound for a like-minded friend of his, in the town of Tyrmas. On the road, they meet some people who seem like farmers. (See attached image) They had hidden weapons which the crew noticed, Saemus tilted his sunglasses to show the would-be footpads, his demon eyes glowing, instilled fear into the hearts of these bumpkin outlaws, they soon fled, dropping their secreted weapons. Once in the village of Millstone, they entered the village pub, The White Lion. After getting some rumours about the place over a drink the unlikely pair caught sight of an organised street-fight outside. Valraven bet eight gold-crowns (8 H.s.p. or 16 Gold) on him winning a bout. The bell rang, seconds-out, round one! Campion lost the initiative, but only just. Valraven clipped him with a jab to the jaw, Campion answered it with a right-hook, denting Valraven’s face and pride. Valraven sent a flurry of attacks, a left-hook, followed up smoothly with a right cross. With a knock-out blow after only ten seconds, Yami bested their finest pugelist. Refusing the reward, here endeth the session.

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