Monthly Archives: March 2010

Date:

20, 27 March 2010 / 13 – 21 Haar’Kiev, 174

Characters (Players) in attendance:

Æruestan “Rue” Beleg (Sam) – Sylvan Elf Fighter / 1
Dumbarton Oaks (Chris) – Pixie-Fairy Magic-User / 1
Fletch (Mel) – Human Fighter / 1
Kailan Morgause (Victoria) – Half-Elf “Art connoisseur” / 1 > 2
Liam Fishfinge-r (Adam – as NPC) – Gnome Thief / 1
Nyneva Parsay (Francine) – Half-Elf Cleric of Benyar / 1
Rolando (Paul – as NPC) – Human Fighter / 1
Sondra (Julia – as NPC) – Human Fighter / 1

Voted Most Valuable Player:

Sondra

GM notes:

Following the great haul of ogre treasure, Kailan took instruction from the innkeep of the Tilted Keg. Battered and bruised, he is now second level.

Then the party went to make good their claim. While trying to map out the mazy mine in the basement, they were ambushed by kobolds. A half-orc leading them challenged “the champion”, so Sondra killed him. [Best mulligan ever: critical failure to critical hit with multiple penetration dice. Ouch.]

There was lots of mud, and a rotting chest of ancient treasure. I wonder where the kobolds got it?

The group encountered a Roper, which was clearly going to slaughter them until Rue pulled out one of the magic arrows the group had found back in Session 5. It hit its target with a clap of thunder, distracting the beastie long enough that an escape could be made.

Experience Points

Remember that thieves get EPs for using their thief skills, clerics get EPs for being religious, and fighters… well, you’ve got that part down. Players who post session reports will receive 100 EPs.

Dumbarton Oaks – 989
Fletch – 1139
Kailan – 739
Liam – 639
Nyneva – 1056
Rolando – 589
Rue – 789
Sondra – 1858

May all your hits be crits!

In recognition that next week is the Easter Triduum, there will be NO Hackmaster on Saturday, April 3rd.

by Fletch

I’m fair shoor the blind sog’s map truly not worth the skin it be on. ‘E’s got the lizard mens where the jingle-brained covy be, roads twistin here and to nether. A right down shame of mappin.

Afer all the trials of runnin back t’cower, decides we to sluff a week so our poofy bounce can learn a bit of skill what doan include cowerin up a tree at the hint of blood. I runt into my ol’ chet, the half-orc what been bringing in all the ears.

We talked the area over a flagon and the wily thud oddly was keen to my suttle question manner, and ne’er lispt word one of the whereabouts for his huntin grounds. Bit of a fell to take Rue, I didn’t wit about the chet’s aversion to Elf-men. Oye. Blest that I be a smoothed-tungt  rum-duke, and could cover the situation.

At long last, we rounded back at the claim, the whole of time spent hearin Kai and Sondra squawkin o’er a bow trade for a bedroll. We all burst the party fund for the shurk to learn the arch, and the two wealthiest cant make simple trade without feelin personal slight t’the other ‘lessin a kobold scribbles o’er.

I wit the pissables be our main distraction, p’haps to keep us lively. I wit Kai takes grand pleasure poking a th’others and gettin a growl in turn.

We popped out th’other end of our claim, and the valley crag spread out under. Smokesign and tunnels. We reckon ’tis the fabled Mines of Chaos below. So o’ course the party sees the boon and turns back into the claim to check dead tunnels fulla fake mineral. And beackon ourselfs to a mass of koboldts in the dark, which for once Sondra keeps her head and saved the new little tib from gettin pricked to deth.

I hopes well Rue clads and trains that tib afore she is put to bed with a shovel. I’ve no wit if she were fear-stuck or strong-purpost, but she kept in ’til Sondra run her out.

So now we’re in the dark, tryin to gain exit, hopin the wee mot has enough wit to lower the basket afore the kobolds run us.

By Nyneva

“My gawd is great, mighty is his power…” Nyneva ended her prayer ritual chant and got up from her knees at the Temple of Benyar. It was, she thought, by the grace of Benyar that we survived the melee with not one but two Ogres and a black bear. Looking down into her hand she was still holding the one claw nail that she planned to put into a necklace. It was a good kill. There would be plenty of meat for the party and plenty of honor and glory as well… glory and honor for Benyar’s might.

Sitting down, she pulled out the stylus and paper and went began her notes:

What an odd experience. I am growing used to them. Before setting out, we sold what valuables we could from our previous score to the lisping, one-legged merchant. This allowed us to gather our small but growing party money together to purchased  some supplies, notably a new cart to haul things about in.  Then we set out to our claim.

With our revived Doaks among us again, we prevailed over the Ogres and bear and were rewarded with gold and silver and copper and even hard silver end electrum. There was the whiskey… which kept Doaks warm last night. Oh last night…

It was probably more of a story for the others. For me? I did my clerical duty and spent it cold and huddled up in the cart with my fallen friend, Sondra, and Kailan who managed to make a good show of his butchering skills. Gawd knows his other skills are useless in melee. Someone needs to teach him how to shoot a bow and arrow. The water spray from the falls chilled me to the bone. Doaks was sent inside to see if he could convince them to open the gate and disappeared…Well, I forgot. I shan’t again.

Sending the others out into the dark to gather wood was a bad idea, it seems. They come back with bald halflings fiances.  I’m interested to know how this came about, still. If she robs from him, I’ll laugh.

Speaking of robbing, the gold which we found in the possession of the first ogre was actually copper painted gold. We have hidden this and need to find a way to clean it before others claim us to be the forgers. This would prove terrible for us. Benyar guide us to help us locate this cleansing agent.

The bow which we took from the Ogre had a name inscribed upon it, Thorgomrin. My friends who I sent into the woods for firewood stumbled upon a friend of this Thorgomrin at the half priced halfing whore tent city. We have not told him the truth about the things we found which were Thorgomrin’s but also belonged to Hawke, so he calls himself, Sparrow Hawke. Investigation, I believe, must take place. This ring of forgery mystery grows deeper and deeper.

Praise Benyar, his might, and pray that he sends his crows, Mishap and Circumstance, to guide watch over us and confuse our enemies. Note  I said confuse enemies … I think I need to pray more.

by Fletch

As I was out by Gandor Lake
I’s keeping my own mind
There was a lass with goblin
Held fast on golden line.

Now when I saw that mayden
My goblin notest hers
It started up and strainin
I covered it’s head an cursed.

–Oh, thee–
Onny good Goblin’s a quiet one
So when it gets unruly
Heave ‘er back an giver a slap
To quiet yer goblin duly! (more…)

by Dumbarton Oaks

I thought he would be fearsome — Tomar Re, warrior-king of old — but he was beauteous of aspect. He greeted me as a brother. He called me friend.

This sinewy brute of ancient times had a message to impart to me and he seated me beside him, in a throne alike to his. I must take up his standard. I must rule in his stead.

I was afraid. How am I, I asked, to follow in the footsteps of one such as you?

You are my heir, he replied.

There was more, enough more to fill books. For now, this is enough to know. The interruption of my normal birth and death cycle allowed Tomar Re to reach through the veils beyond and to reach me. I cannot rule without reuniting the Fairy Crown — the lost shards of our ancient glory. With that artifact upon my head, not even the boldest will dare defy me.

I am called to restore the pixie fairy to its former glory. I am called to reatore thie fairy kingdom to its supremacy — before the days of man. I am called to unite the natural magic of the pixie fairies into the potent force it can become. The big ones do not understand us. They do not know what we are. They will learn, to their everlasting sorrow.

Oh, and Rue is engaged to a bald, harlot, torchbearing hobbit or something. They will, apparently, drink anything that is offered to them. This is what I have to work with. Tomar Re, make me sstrong….

by Fletch

Dilberries! Running ever-after, to nowhere.

Once  we left the keep, this bit of a Cove with guard-hair ramps up to us to tell us we’d ne’er met, he was Finch and he’d run us a faevor. We set to never meet again perhaps at the tavern up the walk aways.

As we were on toward our claim, we come across a slewed Elf-man, and run down the ogre what slewed him. Only, we think it slewed him. He mayent not. And the elf-man may have been cunning shaver anyhow.

Ech, no matter. When he was strained out, his Trug upped out of the hillside with a baar and we set upon them a’ well.

I learnd an Ogrish word from King Dumbarton: Hahrreg! means “Alice!” I wit the baar was Alice, which is sweet for a baar. I’d best go with Fellclaw or Cleavertooth, meself.

Twas the longest looting o’er an ogret pair ever, as every trace bit and bob was squeeled o’er whilst I alone was driven to the bags of the shiny stuff and looting the den. What care I for ipsy bedding, when there’s bags of coin? That there was meat and ale and a fulle sleep of comfort. Mayhap a mayden? And they toss o’er a baar coller. Oye.

Rather than marking and continuing up our claim, they all decided we bolt back to the keep. Again. To heal a meatshield whot would just throw theyself into the thick next anyhow.

And Lo! At the gate, it is bolted, for Eve is nigh. There is not a stick of fuel, and a dark forest alone to scavenge for twig. Myself and Rue and Liam trackt firewood in the dark, whilst the rest lollygag at the gate with the loot and food.

I’ll have ye now, of the three, twas Rue that bumbled in the bush playing snipe and got caught with arrow, by a shuffler bowman whot had offered hospitality to myself and Liam, and was caught off awkward at the sound.

We followed the cull to a halfling camp with fire and tent, where we payt good coin for bare broth and turnip. Course faire as compared to the sausage and tack the others were to had, aye. And ale, having been parched for all the scavenging for wood and aught.

The whole twas a burned wreck, and the bully of the den shared a tale of heart-rending, of the keep-folk burning a simpleman’s inn, placing him in such dire living.

Mayhaps the ale (as ma mum spake often Drink flies up fast for tall, comely men), but when offered a game of Hide the Turnip to help the inn, I passed gold gladly.

Aye, she was a faire-roe ewe, half-sized, with starlight hair and the devil in her eye.  There was gold in that lair, and I looted her thorough, taking my prize and leaving her delirious and sated as I stumbled to the fire to slake my thirst and view the dawn arizing.

O my key is bright, not rusty,
It is so oft applied
To lockes that are not dusty,
Of maydens that are lusty,
And not full fillde with pride. Ha-Ha!

Upon the morn, we Men of Adventure bid away back to the cart, the town, and mayhap a Decent meal, when we wit of a tagalong. That eve, Rue had paid for a half-price slamkin Hoor, who he may impressed with such Pity, for she unto him is now devoted. Oye.

And he does now claim that she is his ‘trothed. And she as to not a Hoor, but a torch bearer? Did he crawl to the wrong tent?

Double-oye.

Some culls just cannot hold to their ale.

Date:

6 March 2010 / 12 – 13 Haar’Kiev, 174

Characters (Players) in attendance:

Æruestan “Rue” Beleg (Sam) – Sylvan Elf Fighter / 1
Dumbarton Oaks (Chris) – Pixie-Fairy Magic-User / 1
Fletch (Mel) – Human Fighter / 1
Kailan Morgause (Victoria) – Half-Elf “Art connoisseur” / 1
Liam Fishfinge-r (Adam – as NPC) – Gnome Thief / 1
Nyneva Parsay (Francine) – Half-Elf Cleric of Benyar / 1
Rolando (Paul – as NPC) – Human Fighter / 1
Sondra (Julia – as NPC) – Human Fighter / 1

Voted Most Valuable Player:

Liam

GM notes:

The party ran into an ogre. And then another one. And then there was that bear.

As for Doreen, well, perhaps that’s a story for someone else to tell…

Experience Points

Remember that thieves get EPs for using their thief skills, clerics get EPs for being religious, and fighters… well, you’ve got that part down. Players who post session reports will receive 100 EPs.

Dumbarton Oaks – 544
Fletch – 444
Kailan – 394
Liam – 894
Nyneva – 514
Rolando – 344
Rue – 394
Sondra – 394

May all your hits be crits!

I have a class next week, so watch this space for next session information.

I am reborn in blood and iron.

There is much to recount and little time to do so, so I shall sketch the broad strokes of the thing and fill in the details at more leisure. It is imperative that I do not forget these things.

I met my fate for reasons I cannot explain. I can’t explaine why Sondra deemed a frontal assault on an entrenched enemy to be a good idea. I have less understanding why Rollie egged her on so. Most importantly, I have no idea why I didn’t leave them all to stew in their own juices, but I did not.

Instead, I ran a scouting sortie into a cave full of orcs and a huge, vicious half-orc in chainmail, bearing no less than six stripes of rank upon his sleeve. This half-orc in command proved immune to my illusions. Still, I managed to take several down and prevent the archers from turning Sondra and Rollie into pincushions. I sowed confusion and havoc among the enemy as Sondra and Rollie tore into them. I saw Rue approaching at full speed and thought, for a moment, that we had a chance.

The orcs fell, one by one, but their commander was made of sterner stuff. By this point, Rollie, Sondra and Rue were all badly wounded and, one by one, they fell. Finally, only the beast and I remained and the rest of the party would not be there in time to prevent this foul creature from slitting my allies’ throats. I must act.

Then the beast made his first, and last, mistake. Rather than simply kill my teammates, he chose to desecrate them first. As he urinated on Rue, I had a desperate idea — perhaps the only one who need die was the only one who would reincarnate!

Using the spike atop a slain orc’s axe, I rammed the weapon, full-speed, into the half-orc’s exposed “junk,” shall we say (certainly junk by the time I got through with it). I twisted with all my might until the half-orc stuck me down. It’s funny. We could not speak each other’s languages, so we merely screamed our names at each other, so the survivor would always know who had scarred them so viciously.

My teammates decided they could not wait for me to be reborn. They likely feared that they could not survive four months of adventuring without me and, based on their most recent showing, I unnderstand. Instead they had a priest of Benyar raise me. The incompetent botched the job — my beautiful hair, my raven locks, fell out by the hadful. Fortunately, I — of all people — can pull this look off!

But it is what happened while I was dead that is of most interest. I have been changed, and changed utterly, in ways my friends can’t even imagine. It is of the visions that I must tell — and will tell everyone, when the time is right.

Still, it is of the half-orc that I think right now — the one who cleft me in twain. I will see his face tonight in my dreams, if the past nights are any indicators.

…But I have already forgotten his name.

Something with a “B,” perhaps. Balthazar? Bethlehem? Baklava? Poor bastard — so proud.

As I said, it’s funny….

March Fo(u)rth for GM’s Day!