Snuggle Nook

Space Jam

In outer-space, orbiting Elfmoon, which in itself turned about Tadisaga – Snuggle Nook, flew a star-ship, the Millenia Falcon. On board was the Nipponese Brother of Mysteries (a level 5 monk) Ezekiel. He trained intensely (levelling up from level 4) in the secret traning holo-suite compartment nestled within the Millenia Falcon, that only the monks of Celestine knew of. Including Valraven a Disciple (a level 6 monk) from Chi-Kung. Who was sleeping at this time flying through the Cosmos, away from Tadisaga. (In this smugglers secret storage space is a collapsable solar-sail, a set of oars, and two Bracers of the Eastern Fist which allows monks to use their strikes as magic weapons, [one] plus one for every ten levels they have). In the opposite bunk slept Loftbruk, the level 1 barbarian from Dænor.

From chryogen’ storage (the ships Hold of Holding, the Meat-Locker) awoke Alfar the level 1 grey-elf battle-mage. Sent from Elfmoon as an emissary, he was the ships pilot, the wizard at the tiller of the Space-Jam’ helm’. The monks of Celestine have been tasked with sending an envoy to the farthest reach of the Galaxy, beyond the outer rim; to find the whispered rumour of an exiled dwarven homeworld , near which is said to exist the halfling-thug pirate planet, as well as the planet of the gnomes.

Onboard the Falcon were Morris Baggins, last of the hobbits of Berenshire. With him was Old Joe Ironhand, last of the Gærdal-Titans. Both on a mission to find their brethren, after the war of the Nook swept throughout Tadisaga.

Only gnome-titans of Tadisaga exist now. Since Pangellia and O’Finniga swept clean the face of the western continent on Snuggle-Nook. No-one there now lived, who was not either Elfæ-kindred, forest gnome, or gnome-titan of Pangrus; and so, the monastic order of Celestine, charged the strangers; the adventurers, to take this space-ship beyond the stars, and find the gnome and hobbit brethren.

Needless to say both these quest-related NPCs stayed in the Hold of Holding throughout this first session, as they were the last of their kind. Alfar’s familiar Mefaustopheles the jet-black cat lept with aplomb about the cryogen’ chamber as Alfar woke up with a yawn.

The small feline explained what the tome that Alfar incongruously stole from his strict school-master at the wizards Unseen University on Elfmoon, namely his Book of Infinite Spells was in-fact one of three powerful grimoires, that when collected together contained more power still, an expoential amount, the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. The black cat Mefaustopheles spoke thus…

“Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly:
The iterating of these lines brings gold;
The framing of this circle on the ground
Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning.
Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thy self,
And men in armour shall appear to thee,
Ready to execute what thou desir’st.”

In game-speak: Merge Coin Pile, Fools Gold, all Air Elementalist and Lightning (Air and Fire) spells, and a similar effect to the Horn of Valhalla, except with Knights.

While we were on the subject of the grimoire, the first spell Alfar learned from this Book of Infinite Spells was Cure Light Wounds, as well as any spells beginning with Cure, when he gets high enough level to cast them.

Valraven Yami then awoke from his bunk, meditated, and joined the posse. He and Ezekiel did not have an Honour-Duel as might be expected, thank goodness. Soon after awoke Loftbruk the barbarian and ships navigator. Alfar took the Space-Jamming Helm, mutually they decided to head eastwards towards the outer reaches of the Universe. Two planets relatively nearby flipped up on the scanners, as did a vessel. Giant humanoid space hamsters, who they ignored after an Attitude Adjustment via video link to them by Valraven. This couldn’t have happened at a more fortuotous time, as Alfar fell asleep with his narcolepsy then and there, whilst still piloting the ship. (This happened several times during the session). His sound-sleeper quirk meant he couldn’t wake up, the Millenia Falcon was stuck on a straight course. Eventually the monks woke him up, slapped him about a bit, with temporary damage. Towards the close of the adventure Alfar realized he could resist sleep and charm being an elf.

The one planet nearby was but a rock, an asteroid circling a larger planet of unknown origin. Alfar took them into closing distance of the planet, which, as it happens was a gas giant. On the way there they spied a shoal of placid space Phish, then, as they neared the centre of the planet, a half a thousand magically animated scimitars came flying towards them! Alfar immediately turned about, heading for the asteroid instead.

It didn’t take them long to get there, and after rest, the quartet of heroes disembarked. Slide music from the Bayou sounded akin to Firefly, the dusty planet looked just like somewhere in rural Arizona. A small bar with a Neon sign flashing, which read in Common (Anglyn) “Level 1 Adventure”. Once stepping through the saloon swing doors, the heroes encountered mainly giant humanoid space hamsters, sitting sipping drinks and squeeking. A smattering of demi-humans sat around the bar being served by an elven bar-maid. The owner, a gruff looking human (Ecossæ) polished a glass whilst nervously eyeing his crossbow mounted beneath the beer taps.

A halfling-thug asked them if the posse would aid him in piloting a ship and shipment to a nearby system. Valraven kicked his ass with some mixed-martial arts style moves right then and there. For some reason the juke box stopped playing music. Everybody went silent. The posse looted his body finding the keys to his space-ship, some gold-bars (10k G.p. each) and a starwheel smoke-powder pistol with twenty shots. Ezekiel picked up the pistol, Alfar the gold-bars and the keys. Mefaustopheles told him by meowing that the second grimoire is said to be somewhere about on this planet, that it was last seen with the captain who of late lay slain in just one round.

The posse rounded up the locals (the previous crew of the posthumous halfling-pirate) and pressed them into service after some persuasive talking at pistol-point, into the meat-locker they went, the ones not manning the ship. The second ship (the Kestrel had to be tethered to the Falcon as she had no space-jamming device on-board). The new crew milled about under orders, manned the ships, solar sails and oars, as the posse went out into the rocky planet surface. Not far from the bar, was a cluster of jowæh traders, their lamplike eyes, beneath brown hoods twinkled, diminuitive in size, they traded three droids. Valraven was not interested, but Alfar was. The first driod was red and cream coloured, looked, and sounded remarkably like Ar-too’s counterpart. The second automaton was a glitchy prototype, who obviously was malfunctioning at the time with a crackle and an electric nervous tic, our posse seemed disinterested in that one. The last one was a small rectangular grey driod, whoes purpose was for musicians and spell-casters as he had robotics arms which turned the pages of a manuscript. Alfar bought all three of them, paying them five times the odds. The jowæhs thanked him graciously, bowing, and promptly left. It turned out that Ar-Too-Dee-Two had a double-edged lightsabre bo-staff style, which Ezekiel could make best use of. The jowæhs also left a Forge (for burning magic items to fuel a star-drive in the Kestrel), which the giant humanoid space hamster crew swiftly fitted.

Another ship arrived on the suface of the rock. A larger vessel manned by a charismatic gnome freelancer, who managed to avoid angering the posse. The two crews mingled and talked. It transpired that an ancient crater on the other side of this asteroid that the gnome-captain and his crew had seen, was rumoured to house some sort of legendary grimoire. Our posse departed immediately, swinging round in the Falcon in the planets atmosphere, landing nearby the crater entrance of Vulcan.

Once finding the entrance at the base of the crater, the prototype driod (Sea-three-peoh) opened the tunnelift door bypassing the control pad. Once descended, the posse appeared in a steel-sided corridor with doors to either side of them. The reflective surfaces stood at least eighteen feet tall and wide. From beyond came the sound of someone approaching. Two ten foot tall dimension demons (greys) parleyed with the posse, wanting to sell these human slaves they had captured, or bade them leave there base as they have no further business to conduct with them. Valraven went to free the slaves, to which all hell broke loose.

It was time to roll intitiative! Boom! The monks got the drop on the gagwaller dimension demon slavers, slamming them with a flurry of mixed martial arts style special abilities, wearing them down. Between the two of them they managed to disable the hand of one gagwaller grey, making him drop his laz-pistol, and deal some serious damage to the other. The barbarian waded in there causing fourteen damage to one of them. Alfar cast a couple of Icy Sphere spells. Within a few rounds the dimension demons were either decked or running away. Attacks of opportunity later, the second one was down. The battle-mage dissected one with the Bonesaw of Optimal Yields, sending a lackey or two throw the body in the meat locker Hold of Holding back at the ship.

They looted the laz pistols and investigated one of the adjoining rooms. Inside was a strange device. Sea-three-peoh explained (he knows many languages and has a database equivalent to bardic knowledge at 50%) that this device housed here was known only once by the institute for monster studies. A recorded incident on Tadisaga by the Heroes of Kalaf. However this model here does not match the description of said machine.

Loftbruk sat down in the chair, pulling the visor down, wiring himself in to the seat. This hybrid machine gained him skillsets in gagwaller language, customs and etiquette, in an instant as well as simltaneously changing his gender to that of a comely (plus four) woman. Valraven gave it a go, gaining skillsoft abilites and transforming into a woman. Alfar tried it, he gained similar skills as well as engineering, also becoming a human woman. Loftbruk tried it again. He only gained the one skill this time but shifted back to male, but being changed into an elfæ! (An elvariel, half an elf, half a færie). Alfar changed himself back into a man again, risking the random machine which turned him back into a male grey-elf (who still thinks he’s a wood-elf). Valraven also risked it, transforming himself straight, once again male.

Meanwhile they happened upon a frightened dimension demon in a cupboard, unarmed. They asked him tell them about the place, at pistol-point. He did so under duress, leading the posse to a weapons room. Weapons were handed out between the PCs. They also found the legendary lost grimoire, wherein lay the positions and locations of all the stars in the known Universe, that Loftbruk took to navigate with.

A ten feet tall version of the character in Paul (that movie) kept quiet as the characters could now read fluent gagwaller writing, so could tell what lay beyond each of the remaining three doors. The next room was a teleportation room. The posse order their crew to dismantle it and install it in the Falcon, which they did promptly. After inspection, it transpired that the teleportation device was only attuned to short beaming down to and beam up to the surface of a nearby planet or ship. The only long-range jump through the Flow it could make was to the gagwaller homeworld of LV426.

Another chamber was a disintegration room, with what looked like a warp-core from trek, but actually destroyed items. That was to be taken apart, removed and reinstalled in the Kestrel alongside the Furnace. Loftbruk destroyed some magic items in it once he’d wired it up, earning him two-grand XP for being a barbarian. (Magic items destroyed in the Forge will only power the Kestrel, the new disintegration chamber however allows Loftbruk to gain XP as per the barbarian career description in the PHB).

Whilst down in the tunnels, the gnome captain and his crew had caught up with them, seeing the place looted, they offered to join the posse, who refused, so they flew off. The next door led to a dissection room, with nothing much of interest. Following the suit of the gnome captain, they too dusted off, and sailed back into space, on there way, after freeing the slaves once the coast was clear. This completed the quest, and the grateful slaves, now free men, offered to enter the service of our posse, who accepted.

Until the next time. Fare ye well weary travellers. The gnome planet calls, for the mysteries of the gagwaller power cubes and gnomish starwheel pistol recharge from them, a hybrid weapon, is what the posse need, to return and liberate Snuggle Nook, from the clutches of the leprechaun overlord, miscreant pixies, mischevious færies, grunge elves, and forest gnome-titan allies. Only the eastern continent of Al’qara Tur and Gyptia remain untouched by the axis of Regino-Finniga, Garagorn-Pangellia; hence King Prang-Ying and his council of the Celestine court (oriental spirit-folk from Chi-Kung and Nippon) have a vested interest in reclaiming the Nook in the name of re-establishing mountain gnomes, hobbits and dwarves from throughout the Galaxy, back onto there homeworld of Tadisaga.

At the end of the session:

Loftbruk made level two barbarian.

Alfar is now a level four battle-mage (MVP, by vote from the PC’s)

Ezekiel is a level six monk.

Valraven is now level seven.

(In the meantime here is a song I wrote in 2009 about D&D).

Playin’ the Game

Lyrics and music by Max Latham, Copyright Max Latham, all rights reserved to On the Flex Entertainment.

“Talkin’ ‘bout Airheads: Dungeons & Dragons,
Hey man: I played D&D to!
What’s goin’ down in groove-town?
Gettin’ D6 damage from you.

Played it cool, played it real but you’re gettin’ caught up in the game,
Won’t you chill out there on the side, relax lil’ brother: you’re goin’ insane,
Won’t you turn it down a bit, can’t you see what’s goin’ on?
C’mon now people we just gotta be strong,
Gotta get it together: what’s wrong ‘n what’s right?
There ’ain’t no need, ’ain’t no need to fight;

You live for the game, you’re goin’ insane,
And it’s such a shame it’s caught right up in vein,
You don’t need no fantasy,
Why don’t you get back to your reality?

Heal the world,
Make it a beautiful place,
We can have a good time:
Gettin’ off-a our face!"

Dedicated to the original Underground Home-Grown Crew:

(In order of appearance)

Evil-Overlord Sæmus Regino’Finnigan, Prince Garag Tog, Queen Maud Regino’Finnigan, Mercenary-Sergeant Old Joe Ironhand, Lord-Commander Osbert Torqen, Oligarch Berenger Baggins of Berenshire, Squire Paco-Jay Meadri, Lady Sophia, Sprite-Lady Keera Hemlock, Monks Valraven Yami and Ezekiel.

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Millenia Falcon

Space Jam’ campaign update!

With the fifty-thousand sceattæ (G.p.) Ezekiel garnered from his days adventuring, the monk from Chi-Kung donated the nest-egg he had accrued unto his monastry, where he may gain further training. Seeing the political situation unfold on Tadisaga, the monks of a higher-order contacted their superiors on the homeworld of imperial Celestine – Wujan (the seventh planet in the Celestial solar system: two jumps from Tadisagan homeworld, via Gronar ) the hierarchy decide to sponsor Ezekiel by furnishing him and his new companions with a spaceship of their own, in a quest to find the gnomeworld of Gildenod, located somewhere between the halfling homeworld and dwarvenrock, found on the far-reaching fringes of Wildspace, the outer rim. Their quest is to relay a message from the exiled gnome mercenary sergeant Old Joe. The non-commisioned officer, who refused to train as a soldier (though it be obligatory for every warrior apart from barbarians and berserkers!) who formed his own army of mercenaries, and founded G.I. Home – the training hub of Gærdal-Titans (gnome titans who did not bow to Pangrus, nor any authority, for Gærdal Titans are rebellious by nature and hardly ever do as they are ordered!) This proved to be the downfall of Old Joe, as his troops were cut of the same cloth as he, insubordination was rife, the organisation was utterly divided. Even their enemies, the gnome-titans of Pangellia-Garagorn seemed to have a military discipline, though they too be wild and untamed. Alas, a long drawn out war ensued. Peace came about only after intervention from Regino-Finniga, who now dominate the face of Tadisaga…

The gods however, saw Old Joe’s cause as just. Though the litiguous soldier could not achieve harmony amongst all gnome-kin, his cause was supported by the dwarven kingdom and indeed the old gods of Færun, the Fading Realms…

As a result, even the gods fear the fate of Snuggle Nook as the Regino-Finniga/Pangellian-Garagorn axis have achieved supremacy over all of Tadisaga. Their conquest is complete, the world is dominated by their legacy. They are even supported by the new gods of Zeleria, the circle of Dragons and the Magus Imperivm: who all share the common goal of not having any space-jamming on or near Tadisaga. Even so, the fate of the Universe hangs in the balance. It is up to these three, those that form a new fellowship.

Finding himself in the company of Alfar the grey-elven battle-mage and Loftbruk the barbarian from Dænor, they inspect their new Space-Jamming vessel the Millenia Falcon.

(The stats for the spaceship are found on pages 21-22 of H.Jammer).

In addition to its normal outfitting, the Millenia Falcon has these additional fittings:

• A Type I minor space-jamming helm. • A planetary locator. • A Hold of Holding (a.k.a. Meat Locker) capacity: 60 human-sized creatures. • The Plank. • Lantern of Continual Light.

All the hardpoints are so far free (keel, rudder, sail, anchor and figurehead) and the craft has three weapons currently armed.

So, until one quarter of the turning monath will this fateful quest begin. Let us wait and see, what the the future brings…

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No Convention (rpg)

The ebb and flow in the solar tide, the circling spheres spin slowly and speedily across tbe cosmos about Snuggle Nook. We are running a Spell-Jam’ campaign (SpaceH4CK).

A new fellowship is formed. Our new crew of the Millenia-Falcon are:

Ezekiel, Level 5 Monk from Nippon, Al’Qara Tur, The Nook.

Loftbruk, Level 1 Barbarian, from Dænor, Tadisaga (Human) [intends on dual-classing to Transporter] Neutral-Good.

Alfar, Level 1 Grey-Elf Battle-Mage. True-Neutral (Indifferent).

Bævan Wildwander, Level 1/1 Gnome Rogue/Priest of Baravar. True-Neutral (Indifferent). [N.P.C.]

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Rama
Stagnant

The quietness of the tavern was disturbed by the low growl of a little dog, just as soon as the tavern door swung open, letting in a gust of chilly autumn air, and casting a silhoutte of a shadow upon the hardwood floor.

The place had only a few regulars in, along with the staff, and all eyes turned to peer upon the strange newcomer. An old man, with a tatty cloak wrapped about him stood before the patrons of the Eagle’s Wing tavern in Stockton. The dog barked at the old guy, before the rotund landlord Ken Runesmith said “Quiet boy! Quiet lad!” The hound settled down reluctantly, curling up beside the fire but still casting a watchful eye upon the old man, everyso-often. A storm was brewing outside, but for now, all.was stagnant in the Eagle’s Wing. Aye. It was as still as the sleeping hound…

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Pub Con Primer

Beyond the Misty Mountains, the Gnomish nations renew hostilities, a spring offensive. Zemiah “The Messiah” Pangelli and Garag Tog lead their armies onto glory. Descending on the helpless Hobbits of Berenshire and sweeping through the once peaceful hillside, the army marches forth, devastating weaker nations in its wake.

From the south, the army joins forces with elements of the infamous McFinnigan racket, which surround the once proud country of Gaerdal Ironhand’s Home. Josef and Matahar escape the assassination attempt, and are now exiled in the Kingdom of Calaf.

With the Daemon-King undefeated in the East, Seamus recalls his army to aid his allies of Pangellia, in the war that threatens to destroy the Faerie Forest, ravage the Pixie Plain, and bring Gaerdal Ironhand’s home to an end.

The guardians of balance, the gods of Krynn do not look favourably upon the cataclysmic events which shake the world of Tadisaga. A new fellowship is formed from beyond the stars, Snuggle-Nook’s last desperate hope to save the shires from destruction, and falling under the yoke of oppression. This group of unlikely heroes are made up of strange alien cultures from the cosmos.

A dracon, giff, lizardman, orc, apeman, aardvarkian, darkman, grunge-elf, half-orc and ogre are Tadisaga’s only hope for survival. Aboard the Freebooter Falcon they head unwittingly towards Snuggle-Nook. Their quest is to foil a royal regicide about to take place at the court of Reginauld. As Seamus’ ship the Santa Maria IV speeds back to commit the heinous act of assassination, these newcomers are charged with foiling the insidious plot to oust the Faerie-Queen. If this event can be stopped, before the next full-moon, then the grisly fate of the world may be avoided…

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Shortersesh

Grift-meister’s campaign log. Snuggle-Nook. 18th of July 2012.

Valraven Yumi The Human Monk, “Hannibal” the Giff Berserker, (both level one) and Anorpheus Voltaire (played by ‘Dougy’, Maxen’s usual character: level two) went into the Faerie Forest towards the Earth-Daemon, which looked like The Thing from the Fantastic Five, only much more Gargantuan. Alas, the Thing moved-in, missing Hannibal by miles. The Berserker nutted him with a head-but, no effect. The magick Battle-Axe+2 that Hannibal had hacked a chunk out of the Earth-Deamon. Anorpheus played his lyre, calming the posse. Valraven moved in with the magick Long-Sword+1, 4 vs. Deamons taking another bite out of the magickally animated Earth-Creature. Valraven fumbled badly, attacking Hannibal but missing narrowly. The Earth-Daemon cained Anorpheus for some, knocking the maestro backwards. Hannibal waded in there with his Battle-Axe2, and after repeated exchanges, the Giff Berserker put the giant elemental down.

Meanwhile Anorpheus had evaded the foray and scrambled through the thorns towards the elementalist, the controller. After singing a song of gentleness and peace, he bade the wizard to leave the Daemon-Kings service and join these freelance adventurers. After smoking some sweet leaf, some hobbit pipe-weed together, the two chilled out, on the flex, in some other dimension.

Pressing on the trio came to a steep embankment, a ravine that ran for miles in either direction. North and south. Valraven spotted a bridge in the distance, it was guarded by a knot of knights, astride barding-clad warhorses. The summoner and bard took off at this point. The knights asked the remaining two heroes a riddle, the guys failed to answer correctly, Hannibal reached for his axe, Valraven began to meditate, but in a flash they were whisked away to another dimension, or was it a dream? Along a river-boat somewhere amongst the stars, within the Cosmos, the Rock.

MVP: Hannibal
Valraven levelled-up to level two monk.

Max-out.

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Pub Con on the 20th

Of the many men to and froe, comings and goings, arrivals and partings of Snugglewood, a see-change shift in the mystic winds happened once again. Since the time of Garag’s rage, Ironhand’s anger, and a half-a-dozen other discordant contentious characters, the Nook turns slowly on its axis now, as it hath done before.

When Tadisaga the heavenly sphere revolves with diminished in speed, decelerates, the effect is that the world recovers. A temporal repose of healing natures wounds. That divine reflection undergrowth begins to creep out of the ground and reclaim the land for its own.

So, only annually does time shift at a normal, regular pace; and that time, that place, dwelt in the house of Aphrodite. Not a house of ill repute, nor a constellation, but an amicable ale-house, where gamers meet to throw dice, play cards, and tell stories about the fire. A meeting of minds in a social setting where bards play and storytellers recount countless tales, real and imagined, to eager audiences, who re-live these stories, most of which are only passed by word of mouth. Sometimes they be lost to the ether, sometimes written down and recorded for posterity, but most times are much like an ice-sculpture: appreciated for the moment, before melting from memory, fading slowly, until the story seeps into the ground.

A shady character crept into the ale-house of Aphrodite in the reign of Augustus Decimus, in the morning. This bard was incognito, a surprise, and the highlight of his year was to tell his own tale, and to hear another. At half-past he would begin, and not finish until the last carriage home.

Maxen is headed to a Convention this year…

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Shortsesh

Grift-Meister’s Game-Log for a short session, Thorsday the 12th of June, 2012 Common Era

    The Posse.

Valraven Yumi (Human Monk from Chi-Kung)
Reaper (Dracon Fighter from outer space)

The hobbit Maxen sat nestled beneath the earth-mound that was his hobbit-hole, snug away in a nook, cranny, underneath the soil, smoking awhile, having a little tipple. The fire had gone out, and the home began to get cold, the rain came down the chimney, extinguishing the once bright hearth. He peered down upon the leaves in his tea-cup, only to scry a scene, of a dracon warrior and a monk from Chi-Kung, strolling about the city of Orphalese. This city-scene was only in their dreams, and they soon woke, to the silence of the wood. Having slept under a canopy of trees within the heart of the forest: Murkwood.

They awoke and gave the order to march towards the village the scouts had spotted a day earlier. The dracon and monk moved swiftly, up ahead with the scouts to investigate the wooded hamlet. Upon arrival at the tree-top village, they came upon a gruesome scene of dead wood-elves, strewn about the place, carved up like Sunday lunch. Reaper the dracon decided to investigate the stone statue of the elves, he narrowly avoided a poisoned-dagger trap which clicked and sprung-out towards him.

The posse moved on, passing by a stagnant pool above which flew a cloud of hovering insects. Floating about the pool was a wooden box sticking through the weeds. Reaper decided to wade into the pool to retrieve the crate. The dracon was bitten by dozens of insects as he waded knee-deep in the muddy pool. After discovering that the crate was full of useless bones, Reaper the dracon began to feel dizzy. Sitting down beside the waters edge, his temperature rose and he was trembling with fever. The mozzy bites meant he had contracted a virulent form of malaria. He failed his saving throw, had to purge his honour and use a mulligan (a fate-point) to re-roll. He made his second throw, thus didn’t die. He was in the ‘Great Honour’ window, so didn’t lose all his equipment.

(Note: Maxen’s house rule, all players are permitted one fate-point per session, but unless your character has Great Honour, they have some grizzly fate befall them. Usually just losing all the equipment they have on them suffices.)

Anyway. The Posse came to a wide clearing in the forest. At the centre of which was a large boulder splattered with dried blood. They decided to wait awhile, to allow Reaper to recover from his bout of malaria. Half an hour later, they saw some figures walk into the clearing. Two dwarves had their hands in fetters, and were bound by a pole at the neck, being pushed towards the centre stone by a group of hobgoblins. One of the dwarves is cut free and was forced to his knees; his head was being pushed down on to the boulder as another hobgoblin began to size up the dwarf’s neck with an executioner’s axe. With only ten warriors, the two protagonists interruped the execution.

An arrow flew true from Reaper’s longbow, striking the axe-wielding hobgoblin in the chest, making him falter. The troops charged in, surprising their opponents. One scored a critical hit, downing a hobgoblin, another fumbled badly, losing his footing, some of the others scored hits, wounding their foes. Valraven ran away (of the ten quirks he has, one of them is multiple-personality disorder: coward.)

The hobgoblins fought back, taking chunks out of the warriors. It wasn’t long before Valraven was paralysed by the Amber Guard, and the eleven archers cut down the dozen or so remaining hobgoblins. The dwarves were saved and joined the ranks of the army, and the Posse continued down the trail, but not after discovering a war-banner, secreted away by the dwarves. The white standard sported a red-dragon within a golden circle. Adopting it as the army’s sigil, the two hundred or so strong battalion marched onwards.

The two protagonists came across some clay statues of women, they decided to ignore them and press on.

After a walking through the undergrowth, they came to a large glen. The ground began to tremble, an earth-daemon appeared, clearing the treetops. Reaper fired his bow: no effect. The ten warrior-scouts closed in, their weapons doing no damage to the elemental-spirit. Valraven ran away again, refusing to let go of the magick sword he had found (the only thing that could affect the earth-daemon). Valraven ran away again. This meant all ten men were massacred, and the session came to an end.

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Orphalese

Grift-Meister’s Game-Log (Maxen the Saxon)

The Snuggle-Nook Sessions

Advanced Fighting Fantasy: GameBook #36 “Armies of Death” by Steve Jackson, Ian Livingstone

(and Gary Gygax of course, not forgetting Dave Arneson, naturally; also thanking the K&Co. (Hard8) for bringing the game to light, giving it a breath of life with the system, the Knights of the Dinner-Table)

It’s hazy, late, it’s been awhile; since we’ve played some robus [Role-Play]. Anyway. The Hobbit sat in the shire, beside a fire, the hearth, in a little cottage, set into the hillside with circular windows beneath which thick red velvet curtains. For the starry sky with many clouds drifting between the moon, the Færie-Forest lit up with scores of star-bugs and sprites, dancing about in the distance. Beyond the Pixie-Plain, the Shire. Berenshire.

He and his old-man were taking a rest for the moment, Berenger Baggins, and Morris Baggins, rested from within the cosy hearth of the hill-side cottage, in the countryside, in the village, of Snuggle-Nook. Smoking some Hobbit-Pipe-weed together peacefully, discussing the nuances of the nature, the forest, the face of a flower reflecting the face of the divine.

In the next Hobbit-hole along in the village, was occupied by a shadowy character, Paco Jay Meadri, a wizard, also Maud Reginauld, who chose to holiday there as it is a quiet place to live. To every-so often retreat to the Villa (for it was a very large Hobbit-Hole in-fact, the old mayors place. Naturally, the would-be queen of a Neighbouring Kingdom, would have the finest accommodation in Berenshire. At least one the two dark-elves could stand up in.

Meanwhile, beyond the realm lay the city of Orphalese. Sæmus O’Finnigan discovered news of a dangerous threat to the East. The Dæmon King. A storm was brewing in the east, and a character far more dreaded and feared than the truly evil McFinnigan Racket. This could not stand. So, the Leprechaun “Merchant-Prince, Grand Wizard” of Reginauld-O’Finniga, set out on a Quest, with his companion Ermine, an elven Rogue-Wizard {a level 3/4 Mage-Thief} [played by Valraven Yumi, who also had his henchman with him: Gar, the Half-Orc Berserker, level one]

Needless to say, none of the original crew were here. Except for…

    The First-Sesh’ (Originators) played a couple of months ago.

Sæmus O’Finnigan (Leprechaun Rogue/Wizard, Grand-Wizard of O’Finniga)
Valraven (Ermine the elven Rogue/Wizard)
N.P.C. Henchman (Half-Orc Berserker, from Chi-Kung)

Maximus the Hobbit alone is beside his imagined fireside, with only a burning of a lamp, deep within nights shadowy clutches. In a haze, blazed… Meanwhile, Back On the Flex…

Devilspawn shrouded Snuggle-Nook in the Orient. From Achæa to Al’Quar Tur the Dæmon-Lords grew in strength. An army of the Shadow. Of the dark Potentates that dominate the east, is one such Dæmon-King, who’s name is not pronounceable, but who’s reputation is dreaded. Already annexing much of the former colonies of Stone: Dardanians, Achæans, and Ægyptians, all fall under the yoke of darkened oppression. The Shadow-Demons.

Not to be out-done in infamy, Sæmus O’ Finnigan and his companion Gar (a half-orc berserker, ran by Valraven Yumi) amass an army to face this new threat. Recruiting many warriors, and taking his entourage, Sæmus manages to find over one-hundred warriors (A mixture of Keltoi: Eire, Ecossæ, Kernow, and Cymræg), more than two score wood-elves and hill-dwarves alike, and finally his elite Amber Guard from the Elfæ-Isle. Sprites, Pixies, Fæ-kin, flying along with their dread sovereign. Silent and invisible.

Speaking to a Captain Bardolf, aboard the Flying Falcon, the Merchant-Prince negotiates a fee for the crossing. Handing the Capt’n five-hundred sceattæ (gold-pieces) Sæmus reluctantly agreed to pay the full-fee. His men aboard, Capt’n Bardolf shouts the order to cast-off from the Port of Noir Sable. The Santa Maria IV sets sail, the motley crew splice the main brace, clamber the rigging, and hoist the sails, which unfurl into favourable winds. The calm blue ocean, studded with what seems like a million zircons, and the early-morning sun reflects off the waves. She sliced through them and headed eastward toward there destination: the city-port of Orphalese.

The voyage was underway, and it wasn’t long before they’d lost sight of land, and cut across the ocean. T’was an uneventful journey. Before long the lookout in the crows nest shouted, “Land ho!”. Soon they were setting a course along the river that ran either side of the continent of Al’ Qaratur. They spotted a barrel overboard, and Gar dived into retrieve it unthinkingly (he had not any swimming abilities) and made a Swim: Doggie-Paddle untrained skill-check. He just about managed not to drown, after being recovered by one of the crew, more able to negotiate the flowing tidal river’s waters. A rope was thrown down, and both man and half-orc were hoisted up, along with the barrel. Upon opening it, the team found it contained only rotten apples, but at the bottom of which, lay an old eroded treasure. Unidentified.

As she rounded the river, the Santa Maria the fourth suddenly came under attack. A large fireball fired from a catapult came hurtling through the air towards them, striking the genoa sail and cinging the beams about it. The crew frantically lowered buckets and put the fire out professionally, calmly, as Bardolf barked orders to do so. A score of tribesmen paddled out towards the ship in canoes. River Raiders. Another fireball flew through the air, only narrowly missing the ship.

Sæmus ordered the fifty or so wood-elf archers to the starboard side. They immediately began peppering the oncoming invaders. Several arrows found there mark, and a few raiders slumped in their canoes, and drifted downstream. Ermine cast a Magick-Missile of Skewering at one of the tribesman. Naturally, the iridescent bolt of light-green energy honed-in on its intended target, slamming into a pilot, and putting another river raider out of action.

Sæmus let rip with a Lightning Bolt which spells electricity burned a further three canoes and crew, the trio of tribesmen smouldering and racked with lightning, tipped downstream, floating to the bottom of the river Krall.

Having the initiative, Ermine gave a knowing look to the leprechaun, who passed an unspoken signal to Gar, the half-orc henchman. [notes were passing] Ermine then cast Proteus’ Uncontrollable Fits of Laughter just beyond the rear starboard side of the ship, tactically, that the river-raiders may drift into the spells area of effect. His plan worked, two wounded tribesmen entered the zone, laughing so hard they fell out of their canoes, sinking to the base of the eddies.

Gar the half-orc took Capt’n Bardolf by surprize, hoisting him in a bear-hug and throwing him overboard. He shouted in broken Anglyn (common) “Keep sailing! Maintain course!” to the crew, who were now surrounded by a hundred and eighty odd warriors, brandishing their weapons threateningly. The remaining fifty elves fired another volley or two, taking out another few river raiders, away from Capt’n Bardolfs whereabouts. Bardolf was flailing about in the water, being lynched by river raiders, who then all drifted into the Proteus spell, and began to drown, giggling as their lungs all filled with water. A dozen upturned canoes now drifted downstream.

Another Lightning Bolt from the Leprechaun put a few more raiders out of action, and the tenacious pirates retreated. The catapult launched from the shore, another missile of Achæan fire spilled over the ship’s prow, and landed harmlessly on the other side of the ship. Ermine returned fire with a Fireball: Sidewinder Factor 1, which fell short of the mark. However Sæmus’ Fireball found it’s mark, thus destroying the enemy catapult. A cheer went up from all the army, and soon enough the river patrol was out of sight. The crew were not taken prisoner, nor worse, but told they must now serve the Merchant-Wizard Sæmus. They did so with little choice, under duress…

Sæmus and his army sailed upstream for another hour when the look-out in the crows-nest raised the alarm. A man lying a across a log, facedownwards, motionless. His limbs were trailing in the water. Ordering a warrior to dive into the water, the soldier did so, and swam over to the log. “He’s dead,” shouted the warrior, “and there’s an Orc’s knife sticking out of his chest.” Hauling them up on-deck, they picked clean the corpse of the only treasure: a golden key hanging from about the dead-mans neck. Letting the corpse overboard, it drifted downstream with the tide. Inscribed on the key was a number in Achæan, reading “222”. Possibly someone’s house-key, who knows?

A few more miles further upriver, the posse came across a bearded old man with raggedy hair, standing on the north bank. He was dressed in animal furs and was waving his arms at the people on-board the Santa Maria the fourth. Sæmus and Ermine decided to investigate, and ordered the ship be brought alongside the fellow. They soon found out what the raggedy man wanted. As the ship drew close to the shoreline, nine other men emerged from the bushes. Though tough-looking, they did not raise their weapons. The one who waved drops his axe and shouted, “Greeting stranger! I and my band of Northmen hath heard of your quest to slay the Dæmon-King of the East. We wish to join your army, for one-hundred sceattæ.” (G.p.)

As the posse set sail once more, the leader walked over to the two protagonists; despite his ice-blue eyed stare, the man appeared trustworthy. “My name is Ælias.” he says with a warm smile, and offers up a strong handshake. “Would you accept a gift, a token of our appreciation?” Sæmus agreed graciously, Ælias reached inside his fur-coat and produced a large curved tooth, attached to a leather cord. “This, is the tooth of a Yeti.” continued Ælias, his chest swelling with pride. “If you wear it, you will never be attacked by Lycanthropes. It is my wish that you should have it, as you are prepared to risk you and your armies life, to save Tadisaga from the fate of the Dæmon-King.” Ælias placed the charm about the little leprechaun’s neck, who proceeded to share the details, all he knew about the dreaded Dæmon-King, and their quest to rid the world of his tyranny.

“It is becoming dark, perhaps we should drop anchor soon?” asked Stumpy, second-in command (the N.P.C. lieutenant). “Indeed.” replied the leprechaun-regent. Instead of sleeping on-deck, Sæmus gave the order to moor-up by the riverside, leaving a score of warriors to guard the ship, and taking the crew, the Dænor warriors, and all two hundred or so remaining soldiers with them, to seek dry land on which to rest, in the long grass.

During the night was peaceful, but come early morning, the army was set upon by a swarm of black Stirges. The Amber Guard took to the skies, but not before Sæmus let-rip with a Fireball spell, and Ermine cast a Magick-Missile of Skewering. A half-a-dozen of the piercing swarm were destroyed, and as many of the army were stung, and fell foul of the mortal wounds, caused by the Stirges. They left the place of ill-fortune, and left the bodies of their fallen comrades in arms in the tall grass.

Casting off straight away from the accursed sleeping place, the Santa Maria set off once again. A couple of hours into the morning voyage, the tranquillity of the river trip was abruptly disturbed by another yell from the crow’s nest. “Pirates! River Pirates!” The lookout pointed directly upriver, and turned to the leader for guidance. The oncoming vessel was bearing down on them at full-speed. The pirate vessel was bounty from Dænor, and the sturdy Drakhaar ship could easily outrun their frigate, so said Ælias. This vessel had a large iron ramming-spike protruding from the bow; double rows of oars extended from both sides. As the Santa Maria the fourth turned about and headed for the north bank, the two score and ten wood-elf archers lined up and peppered the enemy with arrows. Sæmus showered the ship with spells, as did Ermine. It wasn’t long before the Dænor Drakhaar rowed off downstream. The crew and army cast-off of the north shore, and continued upstream to Orphalese.

It was late in the day when the red-roofed houses of Orphalese came into view. Stumpy led the men ashore, just down-river a way from the city, and began to setup camp outside the city walls. Only Sæmus and Ermine took a row-boat within the city limits, and moored up on a small jetty. Heading for the nearest tavern. As the two walked down the narrow streets betwixt olde wooden houses, Sæmus spotted a golden ring lying in the gutter. Ermine ignored it. Our leprechaun went to retrieve it from the ground. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and peering up he was confronted by a brute of a man, looking angrily down at him. An ugly scar ran across his face, and the bald-headed barbarian brandished a battle-axe, he throws and accusing glance at the Rogue-Wizard, pointing a finger into the little man’s face and growled, “That’s my ring. Give me it back, or else…”

The leprechaun noticed that his sausage-like stubby fingers were far too large for the signet, he was obviously lying. Ermine cast Proteus’ Uncontrollable Fits of Laughter and the bully began to crack-up with the giggles. In the confusion Sæmus hit the brute with a Phantasmal Fireball. The barbarian falls about screaming and laughing simultaneously as he failed his save versus illusion, and soon passes out. Sæmus relieved him of his belt pouch, only to see two city guards come strolling over to the scene. The leprechaun tried to explain that he was innocent, to which the guards were highly skeptical. Finally he gave up the pouch in exchange for his liberty, and the pixie-kin kept hold of the gold-ring, which had engraved on it Stonæ numerals marked “XXXXV”.

Some time later, after re-grouping, the two saw a crooked wooden sign hanging over the door of an olde wooden building. A fading painting of a Green Dragon was represented, and from the sounds emanating from within, this looked to be a tavern or inn of some sort. Climbing some well-worn wooden steps, and pushing open the heavy oaken door, the two peer upon a rogues gallery drinking in dingy darkness. Even though t’were daylight, the tavern interior is dark, and candles burned flicking light about the walls, as the small grubby windows let in virtually none of the suns rays.

The tavern is bustling with life, none of it looking too savoury. Groups of cloaked vagabonds are huddled together in shadowy corners, while boisterous rogues, much the worse for drink, sit in the midst of it all, insulting all who pass by; including the harassed barmaids trying to squeeze between the tables carrying trays loaded with tankards.

The sole drink on offer was a cloudy looking yellowish liquid that smelled feintly of apples, if only just. Dubbed ‘Devils Brew’ by the yokel half-ogre landlord, he poured two tankards worth. Sæmus bubbled, but Ermine manage to keep his down. Sneering, the landlord throws down the gauntlet so to speak, “The drinks are on me if you can do that a second time.” pointing at Ermine. The wood-elf accepted gladly, putting his lips to the second tankard, draining it without stopping. His eyes began to water, as he stood up to walk over to one of the tables, he began to lose his vision, and his motor-functions. Losing his footing Ermine fell to the cold stoney floor, the leprechaun tried to help him up as all the onlooking rogues laughed heartily at the lightweight Elfærie-kin could n’er hold their drink. They left in hurry before anything worse could happen.

After passing another row of olde wooden houses, the pair came across a curious shop. Nothing was displayed in the window except straw and an empty cage, about the size of a birdcage. Brown paint flaked off the window-frame and door, above which was a sign that read: "Petshop – normal and unnatural’. They entered and tried to belittle the shopkeeper, who bade them leave. Going back out on to the street, our two protagonists met an another two people, unkempt looking fellows, who asked them what they were doing in Orphalese. Sæmus and Ermine said they were here on business, visiting an associate of theirs. The two street-urchins bade them tell him whereabouts, that they may be able to help guide them there. Our two heroes blagged it, offering a false address of some random street name. Oh, that’s just off the street where we live. Another shabby-looking man arrived, and bid them come home with them. Rounding a corner into a dead-end alleyway, the three men stopped and turned about suddenly, the tallest one spoke, “There is no street of that name in Orphalese. Let’s get the strangers lads, I’ll bet they’re brimming with coin!”

The fight was a short one. Flying above them, a Lightning Bolt and a Fireball later, the footpads were toast. Even Ermine managed to tag one with his Magick-Missile of Skewering. The coins that weren’t melted in the onslaught were pilfered, and a glass phial was discovered, smashed, leaking out a greenish liquid onto the cobblestone streets. Sæmus and Ermine left in short order.

Both Rogue-Wizards came across another shop. T’was an emporium full of old things, curios, boxes, tins, tools, pottery, carvings and cups were all heaped in a haphazard-like fashion. T’was a pile of a window display. The pawnbrokers sign sported the words “Crack-converters”, somewhat weatherbeaten and worse for wear. Entering inside, the shop was owned by a jovial old lady by the name of “Bonny”. The walls were lined with shelves, from the floor to the ceiling; all crammed with olde objects, collected over the many years she had been custodian of this emporium. Most of the things were covered in a thick layer of dust, and only a few caught the eye of our adventurers. The pair bought a brass owl, a copper lantern, an ivory chest, and a green vase.

Elf and leprechaun arrived at another building down the street, an old converted barn, sporting large wooden doors at the front. Some sort of commotion was happening inside, hearing cheering and shouting emanating from within the building. A man barred their way saying, “Pie-eating competition, five groats to spectate,” (that’s five copper-pieces.) “and ten sceattæ to enter the competition against Gut-buster, if you think you’re ’ard enough to beat him.”

Ermine stepped upto the plate, paying the entrance fee to partake, while Sæmus Slipped Away Into Shadows then snuck back in, silently, invisible. After witnessing Gut-buster best a half-orc, he had a five minute rest, then took on the new challenger: Ermine; who beat the Gut-buster by a whole fish-pie. Emptying his final bowl, he burped in triumph. Offering his reward up to people who were willing to join him in their fight against the Dæmon-King, a dagger flew out from the crowd. Ermine dodged the spinning blade, and before he could trace from where it had came, the assassin had fled, out of sight. The elf managed to recruit another ten warriors before left, and handed them a note, telling them to wait outside the city limits with Stumpy.

After leaving the converted barn, the two heroes headed down a side alley. Treading on an iron grate, which suddenly flew open, Ermine stumbled upon two Sewer Goblins. One round of hand-to-hand, and a Phantasmal Fireball later, the two were brown-bread. The ambush failed to scratch the two mage-thieves, who searched the nearby barrels rather than venturing down beneath the city.

The first couple of barrels were empty, and the third had a piece of old sack-cloth covering it; before they could even touch it however a man’s voice shouted from inside, “Go away! Leave me alone! Can’t anybody get a decent siesta these days?” They decided to pull back the sacking, and a small man became visible. He wore filthy green clothes, and was curled up inside the barrel. He glared up at them with an angry expression written all over his face. He had angular features and an odd-shaped hat on his head which was held in place by his pointy ears. “I’m warning you.” Then, out of nowhere, a spring-trap was released plastering the two of them in rotten fruit. They decided to attack the fellow leprechaun…

Here endeth the session.

    The Second-Sesh’ (New Player) played on the 9th of July, 2012

Valraven (Human Monk, from Chi-Kung)
Reaper (Dracon Warrior, from outer-space)

Falling from the sky, some time ago, a lone Dracon warrior dropped down in a fiery comet unto Tadisaga (Snuggle-Nook).

By chance he happened to cross-paths with another stranger, equally as baffled about why the two were here, on a busy street corner, in Orphalese.

This quarter had a distinctly oldey-worldy look about it, mediæval style houses and buildings loomed down upon the hustling city street. Beside the monk and dracon was a sign, blowing about in the wind. Upon this sigil was inscribed “Maxy’s Mercenaries.” A wooden-beamed slanting stone-building, whitewashed sides of warped mortar, sporting an old tile roof.

A large neon sign, pink, flashing in coloured lights to a big arrow-shape that read “Level One Adventurers this Way” then blinked out of existence as quickly as it had come in.
Deciding to follow, they walked into the front-room, where another two warriors dueled with wooden swords, a practice fight, a mock battle, the two combatants pulling their punches.

A half-a dozen or so blokes look on, jeering, and stood on a pedestal, above them all, was a striking blonde woman, Maxy. Adorned in leathers, she barks instructions to the two fighters. “Ar-RET!”

The cacophony continued, as her words fell of deaf-ears. She sighed, and shrugged, rolled her eyeballs and thought “boys will be boys”.

The fight was coming to its final stages. The unarmoured Achæn warrior lashed out and struck the elf, who retaliated, and took a piece out of matey-boy. Boom! Another hit, and the Achæn contender ate the floor.

“Stop!” said Maxy. The room was instantly silenced, and all eyes were cast on the two new-comers. She continued.

“Take a break, all of you, while I see what these two… intruders want.”

She walked over to the two and said, “I’m Max and these are my boys. Do you want to hire some N.P.C. warriors perchance? 200 gold-pieces.”

The two adventurers parlayed that instead of giving her two hundred sceattæ (G.p.), or as she had suggested, fight her, but instead, those two should battle it out, as have never before met, neither in life, nor the arena.

Max eyed the strangers warily, but could see that they were genuine, so she thought this a good suggestion, and so the two were jeered as they began to start an honour-duel.

Valraven’s character has ten character flaws, put a hundred and ten of his build points (almost all of them) into one Martial Arts Special Maneouver: Distance death which he has at 81%. Anyway, the main point being, of the decimal quirks Valraven has, one of them is a Warrior-Book flaw: “Flashbacks”. (My favourite!) we even randomized the particular conditions under which the flashback happened, and it was when the monk was fighting as a captured slave once, in a gladiatorial arena. Any form of ritual combat or fighting in front of a large audience can trigger the flashbacks, where the character stands inert, trancing out, tripping out for a round. Anyhow, back to the game.

Valraven makes his Willpower roll(s) throughout and manages to stay on the flex, without tripping out. He actually rolled a critical success one round on a save versus Paralyzation flex rule. Back to cases:
The monk wins the initiative by one mere segment, and tries for a Choke Hold Maneouver, but Reaper manages to just about fight him off. Retaliating was futile.

Reaper went in with the claws again, n’owt doin’. Valraven takes a knock in Honour as he delivers his lethal Distance Death Martial Arts Maneouver. He made it. The dracon was not bested by a Paralysing Touch, he made his save.

Then, again Valraven tried for another Choke-Hold. It worked! As the dracon flailed and failed to stave off the monks series of attacks, he was out for the count.

The monk was declared the winner, by the warrioress, who honoured the agreement, leasing out her champion (Ardwyn the wood-elven warrior) to Valraven (who can have but one N.P.C. henchman, due to his horrendous Charisma score. He burned it off, and as Conan says, Charisma is always a bit of a dump stat, rinse those points while you can. Especially that since the latest rules errata, included in the PHB, state that characters cannot pump stats with BuildPts.)

Anyhow, they parted ways amicably, and went on with the adventure, to defeat the evil Dæmon King of the East. Though they both be only level one fighters. Valraven’s soul was linked to that of Gar (the character he ran last session) who was in the service of the O’Finnigan army, that are camped outside the city walls. Beyond the limits. Anyhow…

The door opened into a small cosy room, with low oak beams. Opposite is a warm fire burning in a hearth, near which sits an old man. Above him is a painting of a sailing-boat. The aged man sits in a comfy chair, beside which is a little table. Upon it sits a small silver chalice, half-filled with ruby-red wine.

The palava went something like, “would you like a room for the evening? If so it is two schillings each, per night.” (That’s Silver-Pieces in Snuggle-Nook)

Valraven gave him a scaettæ (a Gold Piece) which the old-boy was most happy with. He regaled them with stories of his adventures upon the ocean waves, voyages to far off lands, all over dinner, with wine, and of course, the warm aroma of chollie, wispy tendrils of smoke.

Reaper wanted to hear more of the old-mans stories to start with, and Valraven seemed stoic and not particularly interested. The old sea-dog recounted his tale, sharing pictures painted about his voyage that had been drawn by three different artists, all members of the crew from the vessel the Santa Maria. The dracon asked to rest, and took the room-key up to where he was to stay, and bade the old man goodnight. Valraven however had a renewed interest in the sea-dogs tale, and bade him share his history with him this night.

After recounting adventures of being attacked by a giant Kraken at sea, twice. A myriad of trips back and forth, whence the Crew bested the isle of the cyclops’. Who smashed her in pieces, and only after vanquishing the giants was she able to make repair. As recent as two months ago, she was on river-patrol, down the River Krall. But that, was another story…

The old sailor said, “Now what about you young monk? What’s your story?”

Valraven spoke of his quest, brought to him through a phantom spirit guide, one of his ancestors, who told him he must bring about the downfall of the Dark-Lord Dæmon King of the East. The old man had heard of this brewing storm, this ascending evil, the darkness the shrouds the East. On this side of the sea, everyone knew of the Dæmon-King, and through providence, the old man had in his possession he had a sword, that was said could harm this foe. (essentially a +1 Magickal Long-sword, +4 against Dæmons). He offered it in exchange for Valravens sword. The monk didn’t have a sword, only his fists, which were as good as. Valraven suggested Ardwyn (the N.P.C. wood-elf) traded blades, he did so for the Quest.

Anyway, the team got a good nights rest, had green ham and eggs in the morning, and set off on their Quest, saying farewell to the old sea-captain. Thanking the old-boy for his kindness in giving him the Dæmon-Slayer sword. Ardwyn and Reaper should’ve swapped blades really, seeing as he was specialist in longsword fighting, but Valraven kept guard of the magickal weapon.

The following morning, Ardwyn the wood-elf awoke gently, rubbed his eyes and blurred back into the waking world. He had dreamt of being back in the Berenshire, with the elven Wizard, and the Færie-Queen Maud. The Bagginses had been round for tea. Right now he was in an unfamiliar place. The street buzzed with activity, the throng of city-crowds speaking a strange language, Achæn. Ardwyn went over to the basin, had a wash, dried his face and hands, then immediately lit up a pipe of the shires finest. He returned momentarily in his mind, nostalgically, to the cosy circular hill-side cottage in the country. The shire.

Gathering himself, getting dressed, he straightened his hair, and went down to meet the others. The old-man was there, as was Valraven the second, and the Reaper. After parting ways amicably, and moving out onto the busy city streets, cobblestone roads in a windey haphazard alleyways, the bearded left, found their way to the gates, and rejoined the army camped outside.

Sæmus was nowhere in sight, most likely invisible some-place, flying about, getting upto no good. Stumpy the lieutenant had been left instructions to relinquish command to the most capable seeming (player) character that comes along. Valraven seemed to exert more dominance, pressure on the soldiers, and they reluctantly followed his lead[ership].

They decided to cross the River Krall. Marching eastwards the army arrived at a wooden bridge, crossed, and began heading south. Crossing the Pagan-Plains, by late-afternoon, the band of two-hundred or so warriors had put many miles behind them. Giving the order to halt the two ordered their men to drink at a watering hold. Valraven tested the waters as well. Over a hundred soldiers fell ill from the bad-water. The Dæmon-King’s spies had been here first and poisoned the well; however Valraven was unharmed.

Deciding to wait until the men had recovered, rather than pressing on, the two commanders discussed their next course of action. Something drew them to confront the Dæmon-King, for their scouts reported his whereabouts, towards east, beyond Murkwood.

Crossing one of the tributaries of the river, the army marched onwards. The daylight dwindled as they approached the dark-looking forest, under a thick canopy of trees that vaulted towards the heavens with creeping tendrils of branches. High up in the sky, the web of spindly branches rocked lazily in the wind, besides the breeze not a sound was heard from the depths of the dark shadowy wood.

A whisper of uncertainty ran through the ranks of their army. Shouting the order to march, Reaper led the way, Valraven by his side, Ardwyn, and the battalion. The sound of shrieking monkeys broke the silence all about them. After a half an hour, the reconnaissance patrol reported a group of wooden huts disguised by the overgrowth had been discovered. The team decided to take their army with them to investigate…

Here endeth the session.

Experience Point Award Breakdown:

Valraven (Human Monk, from Chi-Kung)
+ 500 (for the Most Valuable-Player [M.V.P.] Award)
+ 50 (for Clever Ideas)
+ 100 (for an idea that saved the team, listening to the old sea-dog.)
+ 150 (for roleplaying his character well)
____
800 Experience Points in total

+1, 250 from the last session = 2, 050
Valraven would have earned another 60 points for the Most-Damage Dealt in a single hit, but due to a Underground Home-Grown House-Rule by Dungeon Master Maxen the Saxon, which specifies:

No-one, is to be awarded experience points for hurting, harming, or damaging another other player character, in the team, the posse, the Underground Home-Brew Crew.

Reaper (Dracon Warrior, from outer-space)
+ 50 (for Clever Ideas)
+ 50 (for an idea that saved the team, listening to the old sea-dog a short while.)
+ 150 (for roleplaying his character well)
____
250 Experience Points in total

View
Second Futuristic Session
New Planet

Mephistopheles and Zeriul were the welcoming reception for two new recruits to the Occīsus Excubiae: a Knightemplar Marīnus Medic and a Ange Sanguine jumpack close-attack Star Soldier. Boarding their new ship – the Vittoria, an ancient, haunted vessel – the team were sent to investigate a recently reactivated beacon signal on the planet Marus: which was thought to be anbdonded millenia ago. The two week voyage was spooky yet uneventful. Upon arrival in the planets orbit, the Marīnus descended in the dropship, everybody was okay, except for the Ange Sanguine, who bubbled then promptly passed out for the duration of the descent.

Our team spread out, de-bused with no sign of life on this frozen world. Mounting the anti-grav’ land-rover, the team kept pace with the Ange Sanguine who sped along on his jumpack. Mephistopheles was still shaken by his lapse toward insanity, acting strange, weird, throughout the whole jaunt. After a little deliberation, the team decided to head straight for the primary objective: the beacon. Parking the anti-grav’ transport, and proceeding on foot, the team moved up.

A blip on their motion-scanners indicated life, human, as soon as the blip appeared, it had gone. Mephistopheles found some tracks, footprints. Being ever assailed by the traumatic images of his bad-trip through the fabric of reality – not two weeks afore – meant he assumed the tracks to be those of hereticultists: their was no evidence for this save Mephistopheles own delusions.

The blip appeared again, then left as soon as it had done so. Mephistopheles had his finger on the hair-pin trigger, scanning the skyline for signs of movement: what he expected to find, daemonic activity. They returned to the anti-grav’ transport, and sped on to the secondary target: the penal colony.

En route they met someone, an old ΙΜΡΕЯΙVΜ mechanist. After gleaning information of the machinists plight, they locked him up, the Marīnus being under orders to do so. This being a penal colony and all. The team investigated a cave complex, only the Ange Sanguine could not fit through the entrance with his jumpack. The three witnessed a corrupting sight. They had stumbled upon a shrine to the dark-gods of Kaos. “I told you this place was infested with dark-forces, I knew it, the moment we found those tracks back there.”, said Mephistopheles.

Upon proceeding further in to the complex, the crew found a reinforced steel door. The power suddenly came on. While deciding where to set the charges to blow the door, Mephistopheles just placed one in the centre, activated it, then shouted “Run!” The team wisely did so, the door came apart, and from the smoky debris was some movement. The motion-scanners confirmed it, a wave of life-signs, headed this way.

Surely it was some Kaostar Soldiers. Zerial tore in to them with his powered arm, the mechanical appendage tore up a Kaostar Soldier in one foul swoop. The Medic let-rip with his blasterifle, taking another one down. The Kaostar troops fought back, chattering railgun fire stitched lines of bullets in to the Techno-Marīnus Zeriul, who was grazed. The Ange Sanguine lept in to the fray slicing a Kaostar Soldier in two with his chainsaw’d. Mephistopheles swung wildly at them with his psychic blade, his sword going wide of the mark. More blasterifle fire from Knightemplar Medic took down another Kaostar warrior. More retaliation, they moved in close now. The Knightemplar took a wicked looking blade, which pierced his armour, wounding him, if only slightly. The same happened to Mephistopheles. The fighting was fierce. Our Ange Sanguine waded in there with his chainsaw’d, his opponent meeting his deathly fate. Mephistopheles having a little more success this time, his psychic sword finding its mark, however he only wounded his Kaostar enemy.

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