Wulf's "Lazy Days" Campaign Story Hour

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:27 PM

This post is for info about how I intend run the game itself.

LAZY DAYS is so named because it was my overriding goal to run a good game with as little work for the DM as possible. For starters, almost all of my maps are from Map-A-Week, I'm scouring the Rogue's Gallery for NPC's, and the main boards for ideas. I'm also using a stock of characters that I've used for over 10 years (both D&D and in fiction).

As the campaign progresses I will post bits and pieces of the adventure back to this post.

CHARACTER CREATION
Our last campaign saw a lot of players with vastly different ability scores, most of them too high, and the ability to be and to do pretty much whatever they wanted. I knew I wanted the stats to be lower across the board (thanks to Arcady, I think) and I wanted the players to have very different characters.

Following a thread from the main board about "bidding" on stats, I advised my players that we would use the following system.

1) Everybody would start with a base attribute of 10.

2) Everybody would receive SEVEN index cards. Cards #1 thru #6 had STR, DEX, CON, INT, WIS, and CHR on them. Card #7 was a "Special" ability (more on that later).

3) Players created characters as a group, trading index cards amongst themselves. When trading was finished, every "Stat" card you had at that point gave you +2 to your attribute.

So, for example, you could trade away your STR and DEX cards for a WIS and CHR card-- giving you no STR and DEX and leaving you with the base 10 for those attributes, but giving 2 each of WIS and CHR, giving you 14 for those two attributes.

This system kept the stats in a reasonable range and also kept the players from stepping all over each others' toes with regards to character class and roles.

4) I prepared an extra set or two of seven cards. If a player's character dies, they can then trade their cards back into the pool to try something different-- but what they CAN'T do is easily come back into the game in a role that is already taken. There's only one 18 STR fighter in the game, and as long as he lives, he's holding 4 of the STR cards.

Pretty simple really.

SPECIAL CARDS (edit 8/11)
Here's a list of the special cards I prepared:

1) Bonus Feat
2) Family Heirloom: Spend up to 500 gp on up to three items (magic, masterwork, or otherwise) whose total value does not exceed 500 gp
3) Ringleader: You start play at 2nd level.
4) Monstrous Influence: Start play as a non-standard race; OR get +2 on all knowledge and CHA based skills vs. that race and a bonus language
5) Extraordinary Attribute: +2 on any attribute (18 max)
6) Enkili's Blessing: This is a cool tattoo from R&R that lets you make a re-roll once per session if it will save your character's life
7) Patron: You have friendly contact with a person or organization that you can call on for favors/information

EXPERIENCE POINTS
First off, experience points for combat are OUT.

I simply write everyone's name down the left side of a table. The table headers are listed with various things the players can do for XP. As we play, I just make tick marks in the appropriate columns.

Attend: points for showing up. If there's any kind of combat that evening, it's usually worth an extra tick.

Tasty Snack: A tick mark if you bring snacks.

Roleplay: Tickmarks for actions that are particularly in character.

Humor: A tickmark if you make the whole table laugh, in character or out, it doesn't matter. We are here, after all, to have a good time. But too much does not earn more tickmarks-- that becomes disruptive.

Ideas: A tickmark for "figuring things out." Usually this relates to the plot, but it could also be something as simple as a tactic in combat that saves the party some trouble.

Journal: If I have last week's session journal in hand before the session starts, a tickmark. I did mention this was a lazy campaign-- yes, the players will help write this story hour.

The very first session I also gave players bonus ticks if they had a character background, a character picture (anything off the net was ok, didn't have to be personally drawn), and a miniature to represent them.

At the end of the night, I just add up the tickmarks. Every tickmark is worth 100 xp.

SKILL POINTS (edit 8/11)
Rather than let everyone simply apply all their skill points at first level (which tends to make people max out several skills with 4 ranks right off the bat) I told everyone to keep their skill points in a "pool."

Every time they use a skill successfully/appropriately, I tell the player they MAY put another rank in that skill.

At the end of each session, they can all put one rank in one or more skills as a "freebie." This allows players to advance skills they may not have had a chance to use during the game, albeit at a slower rate.

Because the game is intended for very young adventurers, I wanted them to get a feel for being "0 level" for a while.

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:28 PM

CAMPAIGN BACKGROUND (edit 8/12)

Here is the information I provided to the players before the first "character creation" session.

Map of Greyhawk:
http://hometown.aol.com/dreadwood/maps/index.html

See the second column, second row from the top for a large scale map of the area.

LOCAL AREA KEY

AREA MAP KEY

1) Your home, Mirrormere, is a small town many leagues northwest of Verbobonc in the Kingdom of Furyondy. More correctly, the Mirrormere is the name of a small, clear, shining lake formed along the river; the town itself is too small to be of much notice were it not for the lake-- though this is of little consequence to the proud folk who live there.

2) Just a couple of miles north of town, past the fork in the road, is the sturdy Littleberg bridge. Constructed in ages past by engineers of a passing army, the covered bridge still stands, guarding the passage to the north.

3) Jonas Miller keeps his millhouse farther down the road to take advantage of a lively spur of water where the river splits and continues past the Mirrormere. Miller is a rich and well-respected member of the town; with a strong, beautiful wife Frances and an even better looking daughter, Mari-- unfortunately for him, the pair of them cause nothing but trouble. He's good-natured, but he's no fool... It's not bad enough to have to worry constantly about his daughter, but some folk even flirt with his wife, and they say it's just a matter of time before he snaps.

4) Many outlying farms can be found on the southeast side of the road-- the Jespers, Stanton, and the two Bell farms to name just a few. Most folk live in small cottages around the countryside, rather than in the town itself. The northwest side of the main road is bounded by the Creeping Wood. The dark, overgrown forest is respected, if not shunned, though no one quite remembers where its name comes from. Surely, the wood has naturally crept over the river and even right up to the road over the years, but some people believe it's the things IN the wood that creep-- most UN-naturally.

5) Just a few years ago, a wizard by the name of John Wells took up residence nearby. From time to time he comes to town for an evening, to buy supplies, tell tales and sing songs in the inn, and to flirt shamelessly with all the women (including Miller's wife and daughter). Simple folk are easily spooked, and only a few have ever been up to his dwelling: supposedly, a house built in a huge tree growing in the edge of the lake itself. It seems as if all those who return try to one-up the tale before, and you've all heard the wild tales growing up: everything from strange lights, monstrous visitors, a glass-hulled ship buried in the lake, a dark and mysterious woman, even a vicious beast-like servant. Surely not half the tales can be true, but some folk can't help but wonder why he only comes at night, and what he can possibly be doing with all that raw mutton...

THE TOWN OF MIRRORMERE (map and key)

1) Wooden barricades surround the town-- though it must be said they've only ever been needed to keep the sheep from grazing in the streets.

2) The old widow Grace runs this inn, and with the typical lack of creativity from rural folk, she's named it simply "Grace's." The ale is good and the food is ok, but you know you can get just as good at home. Still, hanging out in the inn is about as much social life as you can expect.

3) This building serves as both church, school, and town hall. The church isn't dedicated to any diety in particular, though it's most often used at planting and harvest time. From time to time you've heard tales of someone making offerings to one of the more shady gods, like Fharlaghn, the wandering trickster. Scandal!

4) Hastur Hammerklang, a stout but shy dwarf, owns the smithy here. He's constantly grumbling about the indignity of beating swords into plowshares, but most folk know he wouldn't have it any other way. He's never explained what caused him to give up his adventuring life-- not even on those few occasions when he heads over to Grace's and drinks more than he can handle-- a considerable amount, to be sure!

5) This large house was built by Jonas Miller-- in smiling protest-- when his wife Frances tired of living down at the mill. It's a fine house, rich for the area. Jonas still keeps a seperate place for himself down at the mill, for those nights when he's working too late to walk the road home. Folks will talk, of course-- Frances complains that he doesn't spend enough time with her in the house, but on the other hand, surely she knows even Jonas wouldn't want to walk past the wood after dark.

6) This house is owned by sherriff Bell, the patriarch of the rich Bell farming family. He's retired from farming now, handing over his TWO ranches to his sons. He throws his weight around, true enough; but he keeps the peace. You rarely see so much as a disagreement from anybody over the age of twelve.

7) The stables are owned by Walt Willow-wood, who claims to be a half-elf AND a retired adventurer-- though the best he can honestly claim is to be a fine farmer with a knack for husbandry. Certainly he had more luck with his crops in off-seasons than anyone else, and along with the business he does in horses, sheep, and dogs, he managed to save up and build an exorbitant house-- too large for him and his pets. He keeps a spare room ready to rent out to "passing adventurers." The sign is always in the window, but no one can remember a guest of any kind.

8) Rattek runs this general store, and his family lives upstairs. He's just about the only person you know who's ever travelled far from town, on one of his many trading trips. He also has a lot of visitors-- if one or two other merchants a year count. Rattek can sell you just about anything you couldn't find here on your own. If you need something besides grass, grain, or sheep, Rattek can get it for you. He's a shrewd businessman, and he's worked out a sweet deal for himself with Hastur, the miller, and most of the farmers: Rattek agrees to buy from them in bulk, then he goes to the trouble of storing or selling their wares out again. He tried to work a similar deal with Walt for his draft horses and such, but Walt still sells directly to the folk of the town, and only sells the occasional animal over to Rattek, who has to take them up or down the road to sell them in the bigger towns.

9) This house is divided in two, right down the middle-- TWO houses under the same roof. How's that for progress? Shaw lives on one side, and Munson on the other.

10) Walt's "officially" retired from farming, but he keeps several fields full of exotic produce behind his stables. Strawberries, melons, strange purple squash. For a while he tried charging for them, but he couldn't keep the kids (or the sheep) out of the gardens, and he didn't have the heart to run them off.

11) The town has a small cemetary in a nearby grove, a respectable distance from the town.

12) The vast green sward known as the Common is a communal pasture, where farmers coming in to town will leave their sheep and other animals unattended while they go about their business.

[This message has been edited by Wulf Ratbane (edited 08-13-2001).]

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:29 PM

CAST OF CHARACTERS
The backstories below were written by my players. They did an excellent job of taking the information and the NPC's presented to them in the meagre background info I gave them and spinning it all together, even adding additional characters where necessary. I encourage this, and added a new name to my notes for each new character they created.
CYRIL CIMMUNGREN (cleric, now NPC)

Cyril grew up in Mirrormere wandering back and forth between Grace's tavern and the Common, drawn to the tales of passerbys that came in to slake a thirst, and when things quieted down he'd sojourn to the pastures where he'd mind the merchant's animals or sit to watch them and play his lute--pretending to keep vigil over them even though thieves and predators were never a problem.

Cyril's father was an unknown soldier who romanced his mother for a single night--then left the next day to never return. Never married, she lives out her days working the fields of the Jespers' farms, regarded by some as a jezebel for bearing a child with no husband, and regarded by others as a decent woman down on her luck.

The unusual thing about Cyril was that he was blind until the age of 15, until a travelling prophet--impressed with the boy's spirit--put his gnarled hands upon Cyril's eyes and removed the darkness from them. This gift had a strange impact on the boy, who began to fear the world around him whereas once before he felt a certain confidence in the unknown.

Cyril grew to be a tall and resolute individual, well-rooted in the community. Many knew the red-haired man with his deeply-tanned arms and face, and though he was a pauper--he never felt poor because he was never alone. Despite being taken from his secondary womb of blindness, he became very aware of the world around him, and yearned to one day to aspire to something more than a simple villager.

His mother fell to illness when he turned 23, and died in the winter of his 24th year despite all the care he gave. With her passing, Cyril had little to keep him in Mirrormere. With the money he gained from selling their hovel and meager furnishings, Cyril was able to scrounge up the provisions that he needed for travel. He felt a purpose growing within, and met up with several individuals who felt the same calling...

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TANTHRIL SILVERMANE (human ranger/fighter)

Tanthril Silvermane grew up the only son of Belimar and Isaril Silvermane in the small town of Mirrormere. His parents were poor farmers that knew the value of good hard work and respected the land that they lived off of. They were devoted worshippers of Ehlonna, Goddess of the Woodlands, and they made sure that the values of the Goddess were bestowed upon their son, Tanthril, at an early age. Many an afternoon would pass by with Belimar, Isaril, and Tanthril working side-by-side in the farm fields praising the grace of Ehlonna as they toiled under the warm sun.

As Tanthril continued to labor on the farm as a child, he developed a sturdy frame and strength beyond his years. When Tanthril was just 12 years old, he was lifting barrels and bushels far heavier than those his father could manage. This brought great joy to Belimar Silvermane as he knew the family farm would be passed on into capable hands when his time finally came.

Tanthril, however, did not share this joy with his father. He yearned for something greater in his life - something that the town of Mirrormere could not offer him. He knew deep within his heart that there was a greater purpose destined for him, but he knew not what nor how to spark the flame that would lead him on this mysterious journey. He spent many a night after working on the family farm deep within the Creeping Woods running with the deer, climbing the great oaks to sit with the eagles, and gazing into the star-lit heavens above, praying to Ehlonna to deliver him a noble and honorable quest to partake in her name.

Years passed, and Tanthril's strength and athleticism proved a charismatic trait amongst the local children as they looked up to him in awe and respect. Tanthril knew that he was not the smartest nor handsomest prospect in the small town of Mirrormere, but he did use his intimidating stature and athletic talents as best he could to influence his peers. Many a twilight was spent with the children of Mirrormere following Tanthril to the edges of the Creeping Woods or to the outskirts of town at the Littleberg bridge. They would watch intently as he would display his prowess with the bow and sword - hacking and slashing at invisible giants and unerringly placing arrow after arrow in melons taken from Walt Willow-wood's garden. They would listen eagerly to his fantastic tales of his destiny as a fierce protector of a far-away kingdom or his lengthy dissertations on the importance of staying harmonious with nature and the animal-children of Ehlonna. No one truly believed much of what Tanthril preached as he was just a poor, uneducated farmboy, yet no one questioned him either. In fact, no child or peer ever really spoke out against Tanthril after the time Tanthril found Rentor Stanton torturing a wounded badger and taught him the "lessons" of Ehlonna.

All in all,Tanthril had a good heart and valued the companionship of his fellow townsfolk yet he was getting older and soon, in his mind, he would be too old to adventure. After all, he had just turned 19 and still had not saved a damsel in distress from the Creeping Woods after unending nights of extended vigils! It would seem that he would never get to used to the twin blades he had Hastur forge especially for him 3 years ago with his meager savings. He had appealed many times to his closest circle of friends to abandon the safety of Mirrormere for a few days of adventuring and intrigue, yet no one would take him up on his offer. Instead he would find himself wandering alone at night in the Creeping Woods dreading the inevitable sunrise which would mark another day of toiling in the family fields. Indeed, it appeared Tanthril would surely end up being trapped in Mirrormere fulfilling his destiny as a poor farmer unless something happened soon....

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JORIE THUNDERSTONE (gnome druid-- played by dinkeldog, FYI)

Life has been good to Jorie Thunderstone. The grass is green, the water clean and abundant, the air fresh, and the Wood provides shade should the bright sun get too hot.

His parents Tager and Sherl Thunderstone, Aunt Melaine Clearwater and uncle Norrin and cousins (Arnolt and Jessin) comprise all seven of the gnomes that have settled in the lands by Mirrormere. Tager and his sister Melaine were friends of Keverin Silvermane and Linnet Cymmungren (Cyril's grandmother). When Keverin declared that it was time to settle down from adventuring life, Linnet and her husband, Tager and Melaine and their families agreed they wanted to settle in the same area.

While it seemed odd to him how quickly his human friends grew up and traded away carefree days for the responsibilities of adulthood, he accepted his aunt's lessons that there are some simple differences between their two races.

His earliest childhood was spent most often with his older cousin Arnolt and the human boy Belimar Silvermane wandering through the nearer reaches of the Creeping Wood. Under the wood, he and Belimar would dream of serving the goddess Ehlonna--he as one of her Druids and Belimar as a Ranger in her service. Gradually those childhood dreams developed. On one of their jaunts through the woods in late autumn, they came upon an injured human girl, unconscious and suffering from exposure. After reviving her and taking her into town, where she was adopted by Grace, Isaril would become another companion of theirs on these trips. Eventually, Belimar and Isaril would settle down, Belimar giving up his dreams of leading bands of Rangers against all evils that troubled the country and Isaril giving up her dreams of being a powerful enchantress in favor of the quiet life as a farming family. Their devotion to Ehlonna would never be extinguished, though. Resigned to solitude, Jorie continued going on his forest walks alone, as his cousin had since entered the responsible adult world as a metalworker.

Then Belimar announced to him that he was going to have a son, and Jorie came more often to the Silvermane farmstead. Beaming, Belimar would brag about what his son (or daughter, Isaril would prompt) would be: braver than all around him, stronger from the healthy farm life, chivalrous and kind (like his father, Isaril added, smiling).

When the child was born, Jorie looked in often on his friends. While they had grown up, he had stayed in his irresponsible youth, and that fact started tugging at him. One day his aunt approached him about his future, and at his response offered to train him in what it meant to be a Druid of the goddess. In the slow method that gnomes use, Jorie came stronger in his faith.

As the seasons passed, he started to notice that Tanthril would tag along on his shorter walks into the Creeping Wood. Soon, with his parents' permission, the two would go for longer trips into the Wood, enjoying the close feel of the goddess in that place where humans and gnomes were rare.

When Tanthril stopped Rentor Stanton from tormenting a wounded badger, Jorie took it and nursed him back to health, culminating in an Animal Friendship. Jorie named the animal Ripper. Dodger would be rescued from a trap at the edge of Jarrod Clamath's land. Jarrod confronted Jorie in public about rescuing chicken-stealing beasts from traps when they should be dead. Jorie just shrugged and turned to leave, the two badgers following after him as he left the Common, the angry farmer shouting at him and turning red in the face. While remaining quiet on Dodger's heritage, he did follow his aunt's advice not to bring Dodger into town with him, or at least keeping him in a backpack when he did so. Similarly, Jarrod no longer sets traps around his farm after Jorie's aunt went to speak to him.

Now approaching adult age, Jorie spent more time around the humans that were maturing at the same time. A week could be spent with Tanthril in the Wood, then the two would spend an evening with Cyril at Grace's and perhaps the next day in the pastures.

Yes, life is good.

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RODRIGO

Rodrigo’s father wasn't the sharpest nail in the barn if ya know what I mean. *spit*.
Vincente, I guess that wus his pa's real name, wandered inta town oh, bout nine years ago now. They spent a couple a nights at the Inn without so much as a peep outta either of em, least not durin the day. Then some chickens came up missin. Not just from me mind ya, but from Tucker's place as well. Them foxes had been bad, so we sure didn't think much bout it at the time. Then the Menagerie rolled up into town, like they do every other year or so, ya know. They always has some of the oddest critters I ever seen. Like them there beavers with a beak for a nose, purdy scary stuff. They had sum udder stuff too, and some cages marked DO NOT OPEN.

The first day the menagerie wus in town they sold sum big old eggs to the inn, I know that fer a fact. But my damn chickens kept on disapearin. I had me an omelet frum the inn an I'll be damned if it wusn't them best damn one I ever had, with them odd eggs. *spit* So I am guessin that good ole double dealin papa Vincente decided he needed to take a gander at the magic chicken and get that thing fer hisself. The next day the menagerie wus gone and all that wus left behind was a statue lookin just like good ole Vince. That stunty down at the forge decided that would look mighty fine in his rock guarden and hauled it off. Guess on the way he accidentally dropped it and knocked the dern head off by accident. Looked fine though with a bit o rock paste on it though.

So here we wus stuck with little Rodrigo. Guess he wus bout 8 at the time, plenty old nuff to be put to werk. He didn't have any name, just said his Pa, if it really was his pa, had called him "boy" all the time. Nobody wunted to take the little scoundrel in so I said I would. I figure he got a debt to pay fer his pa after all. By my reckonin 6 chickens would take bout 9 years to werk off, give er take a munth. So that's what he been doin the last 8 and a half years. He sure hasn't fallen far frum the tree that beared him if ya know whut I mean. Not too bright this one. Stuff's always comin up missin and getting set on fire, I know its those damn forest sprites. Stupid boy needs to keep the doors locked better.

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NIKOLAI DHAVROS

Nikolai Dhavros was born to Gunther and Eryn Dhavros 20 years ago. Eryn died in childbirth while giving birth to the couple’s second son, who sadly became ill soon after birth and died as well. These twin tragedies caused Nikolai’s father, Gunther to become more withdrawn and moody, occasionally even violent and abusive. Gunther’s carpentry business suffered as well, and the family was never prosperous, and lived in the poorer section of town.

Nikolai’s childhood was not easy as a result. Gunther was a good, religious man, but his strictness caused the young boy to rebel at every opportunity. Gunther wanted his only son to become an apprentice carpenter and follow in his own footsteps, but Nikolai was a dreamer from an early age, and wanted nothing to do with his father’s profession. Nikolai began getting into serious trouble as he entered his teenage years, and hung out with several of the other “outsiders” in Mirrormere who were also troublemakers. They terrorized the town in the ways that young thugs do - petty larceny, occasional arson (for the fun of watching things burn), and other, similar things.

Even this, though, proved to be not enough for Nikolai. He longed for more, but didn’t know what. At the age of 16, he finally ran away from home, and headed for the nearest large town, Littleberg. There he ran with a rough crowd, becoming thoroughly immersed in the criminal element. He went on a variety of minor jobs with other thieves, and finally got his first break: He would be on a team infiltrating a caravan running between Littleberg and a nearby gnomish settlement.

The caravan was carrying a variety of goods, but the gang that Nikolai was working with was concerned with one particular merchant who was supposed to be picking up a significant amount of gemstones from a gnomish jeweler. He was bound to be carrying large amounts of gold, and it was this that the gang wanted. Nikolai and another thief infiltrated the group, getting hired on as drivers and animal handlers. It was on this job that Nikolai met Garcia, a Cleric of Fharlanghn, the God of Roads. Garcia was on this particular trip as a favor to the caravan’s guard captain, who was an old friend of his.

Over the course of the journey, Nikolai and Garcia found many interests in common, and Nik began to consider an alternate option in his life: travelling the world and helping people, rather than taking from them. When the time to give the signal to attack came, Garcia seemed to know what was up; he point-blank asked Nikolai what he was going to do. Nik abandoned the plan, subdued his co-conspirator, and the caravan reached the gnomish settlement safely.

Garcia took in Nikolai as an acolyte, teaching him the ways of Fharlanghn, and in time, the young man became a full-fledged cleric himself. He is now returning home to Mirrormere, on his own. He has several people to see: the owner of a local farm whose barn was accidentally burned down by Nik and his little gang of toughs, as well as several other townspeople he intends to apologize to for various transgressions. He also intends to make peace with his father…

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JAAG HAMMERKLANG (dwarven fighter)

Jaag is the adopted son and apprentice of Hastur Hammerklang. He spends most of his days fixing horseshoes and farm implements, but sometimes makes weapons too. Jaag is especially proud of his self-made waraxe which he hangs above the shop door. Only Hastur seems to think it more suitable as a farmers tool to chop wood. On the occasions that a traveling customer laughs and agrees with him, Jaag creates an even finer (in his opinion) axe than before. The axe above the shop door is now Jaag's fifth and quite suitable for chopping firewood.

Jaag has been a kind of helper around the village ever since he was young. He liked that most of the villagers treated him as more adult than Hastur ever would, and began doing odd jobs for others whenever the smithing work was slow. Jaag sometimes stands the night watch for his neighbors flocks. With practice, Jaag became better with his bow, and the town had a few less wolves to worry about. Jaag still looks for an especially large black wolf he saw one night-he swears he saw it start walking upright with a sheep still in its mouth. But that was years ago.

Jaag knows little of his father, except that Hastur was his right hand at their clan's forge for many years before Hastur began his adventuring career. Hastur, while in a drunken stupor and half conscious one night at Gracie's, murmured something of Jaag's father, of how he was exiled from the clan, and how they shaved his beard-- the greatest insult to any dwarf, and usually reserved for murderers. How it connects to Hastur and Jaag finding their way to this village is anybody's guess. Most townsfolk presume it was to get away from the hateful clanfolk, and that Jaag was orphaned and Hastur gave up his clan to keep him safe and away from most other dwarves. That night was the only time anybody saw a tear in Hastur's eyes.

After that night, Jaag seemed quieter, calmer, and never showed anger towards Hastur for what used to be resentment over not sharing stories of his father's past. In fact the whole village seemed to give Hastur a greater respect since that night many years ago. It's not easy to see a strong dwarf shamed into tears.

Every few years, a dwarven ale merchant comes to visit Hastur. The barrels, which are usually branded with a proud clan emblem on their sides, have only a blacked-out burn mark in their place. Hastur and the merchant speak in a dwarven dialect that Jaag doesn't understand. The ale merchant is the only regular dwarven visitor to see Hastur, and he seems to know Hastur too well to just be an ale merchant. Before, Jaag was perhaps too little, but now that Jaag has grown up a bit, perhaps the merchant can tell him more.

Hastur doesn't like to share his brew, knowing it must last him more than a year. But he uses it to celebrates certain dwarven holidays, and festival days as though he were still a part of a clan. They are always somber days, with few words between Jaag and Hastur, though certainly there is so much more to tell Jaag about his father and his family.

The town has grown to trust Hastur and Jaag since their early days. They are reliable smiths, and Jaag even gives discounts to those who have treated him well as a youngster, but only when Hastur isn't looking. Alas, time passes, and life goes on quietly here. It is well accepted that Hastur and Jaag are good-hearted dwarves, not too greedy, and prepared to protect, this, their new home now for almost forty years.

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KELLAN EVERSHAR (human paladin)

As a boy, Kellan was raised by his uncle and aunt, merchants of 'middle-class' standing. Having no memories of his birth parents, his uncle filled in the gaps by telling him that Kellan's mother (the uncle's sister) and her husband were a great paladin and cleric of good; they died while on a great quest against evil.

Inspired by the example of his deceased parents, Kellan grew up to be a strong boy of good heart, with a keen eye for swordplay and for helping others in need. On his 11th birthday, Kellan's uncle sent him to the Order of Heironeous to become a squire, and if found worthy, to take up the mantle of the paladin.

While Kellan isn't the sharpest tool in the toolbox, as it were, his natural impulses towards good as well as his quick aquaintance with the sword were assets to the Order, and he was accepted as a knight upon reaching his 18th birthday. For the occasion, his Uncle gave him his mother's sword: a masterwork weapon that had been used by two (now three) generations in the family. For the past year and a half, Kellan has served the Order on various missions given by his superiors, until two weeks ago when he received what could only be a vision from his deity: a compulsion to travel to Mirrormere, an out-of-the-way outpost in need of a hero. With the blessing of his superiors, Kellan set out on horseback to find his destiny.

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:30 PM

It was a warm spring evening, and you'd gathered with your friends at Grace's to down some ale and share fantasies of heading out into the world to find adventure. You drank well into the evening, and as usual, Grace suggested that you stay there in the common room overnight rather than head home alone to your various farmsteads. Knowing that the old widow isn't to be trifled with-- and moreover that she'd keep the ale and wine flowing-- you agreed to stay.

The group moved out onto the rear deck to catch a cool breeze and watch the stars. Swaying slightly from excessive drink and the soft sounds of music from within the inn, you stood and soaked up the summer air. Looking over at Miller's house, you could see his wife silhouetted in her bedroom window, standing in her nightgown, oblivious of your presence and watching the night sky. Looking in the direction of her gaze, for a moment you thought you caught a glimpse of a cloaked man flying through the clouds, heading off towards the lake-- but it was more likely the alcohol than what your mind immediately suspected. The lot of you retire to the common room to curl up by the fire.

You awoke the next morning groggy and bleary eyed, and good widow Grace fixed you breakfast though she clucked disapprovingly at your state. After breakfast, hot coffee, and a liesurely smoke, half the morning was gone, and you were all ready to go your seperate ways and head home.

As you were heading out the door, your path was suddenly blocked by the Miller's daughter, Mari. She was as beautiful as ever, with the sun shining through her golden hair from behind. It was quite dazzling, and some of you took a moment to realize she'd been speaking to you.

"...supposed to return yesterday, and I'd hoped he would right up until sunset. Of course I didn't want him to travel at night, but he's had plenty of time this morning to get back by now, and I know I shouldn't worry, but this time it just feels... different."

Mari looked at Cyril. "You're heading that way anyway, Cyril. Do you mind going down... just to see if he's all right?"

Cyril, befuddled, blinked and stammered, but Tanthril, sensing adventure, had already agreed, stepping out into the street to buckle on his twin sword belt. Rodgrigo smoothly stepped between Cyril and Mari, leading her off by the arm to question her further; unfortunately, she knew little else. The group was simply going to have to hike the ten miles down the road to investigate further. Jorie's legs already burned at the prospect of the long trip down to the millhouse, especially since he'd have to keep up with the long-legged stride of the eager Tanthril.

Even so, their spirits were light as they set off in the springtime air. But before they had even reached the door of the millhouse, the group could tell that something was wrong.

Stepping naturally into his role as the party leader, Tanthril drew his weapons and crept lightly to the side door. Jorie winced as Tanthril's scabbard scraped long and loud against the stone wall. The boy had crept around the woods before, with some success; but now, confronted with some unseen danger, his skills failed him. If there was anything inside, they'd given up any hope of suprising it.

The rest of the group bundled up behind Tanthril for protection as he gazed down the hallway to the center of the mill. They all strained to see into the sunlit but shadowed interior of the mill. They could see a bag of unmilled corn spilled across the floor.

Outside, Dodger growled loudly, hackles raised, staring at the river ahead of Tanthril.

Jorie spoke calmly to the badger. "What is it?"

"Scaly thing!"

Ripper saw it too. "Come quick!"

Jorie darted outside just in time to see a thick reptilian tail slide under the churning, muddy water near the paddle wheel. The creature was gone in an instant.

The sighting did little to calm their fears for Jonas Miller, but they felt more secure about the millhouse itself, and set about searching for some sign of the miller. Tanthril was first into the main room, combining his tracking skills, youthful inquisitiveness, and simple deduction to try to piece together what had happened. The bag of grain had split open-- not been cut-- as if it had been dropped, and a search of the main entrance showed some footprints in the dusty flour that covered the floor. Booted feet had walked to the front of the mill, onto the front walkway, and paced back and forth.

Inside, Jorie and Rodrigo checked out the chimney and headed upstairs. Rod had a grand time going through trunks of old clothes, cast-offs from the Miller family, including some dainty delicates from Mari and Frances. Clues, however, were not to be found.

Tanthril hopped off the front walkway and searched the ground outside. Sure enough, he found the scaly prints of some reptilian creature, heading from the front of the mill and around the side to the river. The creature had walked around in the muddy bank near the paddlewheel before entering the water-- no doubt, just as they had arrived. Tanthril went inside to inform his companions and found Cyril beckoning them all to Jonas' study.

"Look at this." Miller's desk was undisturbed. His journal lay open, pen in the inkwell, next to his cash-box-- also open, with the key still in the lock. A few dozen silver pieces and a fine bracelet were inside.

"Rather odd of him to leave his money lying about..." Rodrigo reached for the cash box but Cyril smoothly shut it and tucked it into his pack.

"Not half as strange as THAT..." Cyril pointed to a note that Miller had been working on. The group seemed afraid to approach, leaning in only slightly, so Cyril read it aloud to them:

Rodrigo picked up some of the other papers folded into Miller's journal-- lots and lots of terrible, clumsy, ham-fisted, half-finished love poetry to Frances. Rod read a line extolling the praises of her "big bouncy bosom" and winced. It was terrible. The content was vastly different than the sample in front of them but, unfortunately, the handwriting matched.

Jorie's worldliness got the better of him. "Gosh, I wonder if maybe he found out that she's been cheating on him." He rolled his eyes. "I wonder who it could be."

"So, did he just go crazy, or what?" Cyril was uncomfortable with the thought of adultery-- or murder.

Tanthril pointed to the doorframe. "I think it's simpler than that." An empty short sword scabbard hung by the door. "I'd say he just had a run in with a lizardman. And fairly recently, too..."

The party looked at each other for only a moment, then quickly headed out of the mill. Tanthril looked around. "Well, we're not going into the river. Let's look in the woods." He pointed to the treeline not far away, and set off on a quick lope, his eyes on the ground, looking for tracks. They reached the edge of the Creeping Wood. Tanthril and Jorie spread out and plunged in, but the others paused as years of superstition got the better of them. It was only when Cyril heard a muffled cry from up ahead that they started moving again. By pure luck, or perhaps Fate, it seemed they'd found the miller-- and their first small helping of adventurers' grit.

Tanthril was in the lead, his eyes scanning the thick growth. The hair on the back of his head stood up as he saw a pair of legs-- Miller's legs-- disappear into the canopy ahead. Something was hoisting a full grown man-- and Miller was a big man at that-- straight up into a tree. Tanthril waited for the group to catch up and they cautiously moved forward.

Jorie couldn't help but notice that the forest was eerily quiet. No birds. Ripper and Dodger didn't seem very well at ease, either.

They spread out and Tanthril moved forward until he was under the tree, where he could look up under the branches. Miller was wedged into a fork in the trunk, about 20 feet off the ground. His eyes were open, but he wasn't moving.

They all looked around, absolutely certain that danger lurked nearby, but unable to see it. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it but to climb the tree and try to retrieve the miller. Naturally, they all looked at Tanthril. He shrugged and started climbing.

When he reached the body, he got a firm foothold and started tying a rope around Miller to lower him down. The moment he touched the body, the trees came alive. His friends below shouted a warning, but not before a giant, hairy spider, as big as a man, had leapt into the tree beside him, burying its fangs in his shoulder. The wound burned like fire, but somehow Tanthril held his footing. Holding on with one hand, he managed to draw his sword and fight back feebly.

Cyril had drawn his crossbow and fired at the spider, but in the treetops, behind the leaves, it was hard to get a good shot. Jorie was frantically trying to get Dodger and Ripper to do something-- but even if they had been capable of climbing into the treetops, they made it clear they had no intention of doing so. They growled and paced about his feet, staring off in all directions.

Rodrigo could barely see up into the tree, but it was enough. Magical energy flew from the young sorceror's fingertips and Dazed the spider, enabling Tanthril to score a solid blow. It wasn't killed, but it was wounded, and it quickly jumped away into the treetops again. The hideous thing was able to clear a good thirty feet in a single hop. They hadn't even seen it bother to run yet, but they had a feeling it could scurry along the ground faster than any of them could run.

Tanthril set about once again trying to tie a rope around the miller, and the spider came back once again to reclaim its prey. This time, however, it came back with friends. A good half-dozen of the spiders were converging on the party from all directions. Now, they made no pretense of hiding. Their fangs were bared and their frong legs waved menacingly. Jorie noted that such behavior was normal-- for a single spider, perhaps, of a less epic size. But the sight of a pack of giant, hairy, leaping hunting spiders, acting in concert to retrieve their paralyzed prey, frightened them all to their wits end. But once again, they were bolstered by adventurer's grit. They were NOT leaving without Jonas Miller.

Tanthril drew his sword and turned to face two spiders that had leapt back into the branches near him. Cyril fired his crossbow into the group near the ground, and Jorie used his sling as best he could, but each time they wounded a spider, it would creep off as if defeated, only to return to the fight again. Slowly but surely the spiders seperated the party.

Cyril dropped his crossbow in frustration, and when a spider leapt in, fangs dripping, he stood his ground. The fangs sank deep and Cyril felt sick, but he swung his mace with all his might and was pleased-- for the first time in his life-- at the sickening crunch of a downed foe. The spider curled up, dead.

Jorie didn't fare as well. Ripper and Dodger intercepted the first spider to leap at him, but not without cost. The spider's fangs closed firmly around one of the badgers, crushing it completely. Cyril quickly ran over, swinging his mace like a madman, and was able to drive off the spider, but the badger lay dying. Jorie knelt down and expended one of his precious few healing spells to save it.

Through all of this commotion, only Rodrigo could see what it was all about. Tanthril was alone against two spiders. While one of them held him at bay, the other spider effortlessly picked Miller up into its mandibles and began bounding away. Rod acted quickly and tried once again to Daze the rapidly retreating spider, but it was no use. It disappeared into the leafy treetops.

Down below, as if on cue, the remaining spiders bounded away into the trees in full retreat-- though clearly, they were victorious.

The group rashly decided to pursue the spiders deeper into the forest, but it was not long before the eerie sounds of movement in the treetops, all around, made them think better of their decision. They knew they'd been beaten, but still they held out hope.

"We'll come back and track them down. He could still be alive." Jorie knew that spiders generally took their prey alive, but even so, his optimism sounded hollow.

Cyril was the next to speak. "Who's going to tell Mari about her dad?"

[This message has been edited by Wulf Ratbane (edited 08-13-2001).]

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:32 PM

RODRIGO:

"Women love men with scars." I am hoping good old dad was right about that. An adventure!! Something has awakened in me of late, somethin different than when I was 12, and I am itchin to put these powers to good use. Hopefully I can find some fair damsels in need of rescuing or at the very least a frisky milkmaid or two.

Seems as though there is a bit of intrigue on the lake and we mean to find out what it is about. We got spiders, lizardmen, and some women bespelled. Everything a group of heroes need. All I know is that there are two beautiful women that should be awful grateful if we can find the miller alive. I think fate has some big things in store for me.

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JORIE:

It has to be the wizard.

The night before the Miller's wife asked us to go see if her husband was all right, we all saw him leaving her house and flying toward the lake.

Then the Miller's wife asked us to go look for her husband. She seemed properly worried. I don't think she was involved. Maybe she is a better actor than we suspected. The Miller's daughter seemed genuinely unaware and upset by what happened.

When we arrived at the Mill, it seemed preternaturally quiet. Moving to the mill, Ripper and Dodger seemed upset by something. When I spoke with animals to them, as all of my race are capable, they indicated that they heard something on the river side of the mill. Going over there, we noticed the bottom half of a lizardman diving into the river. That seemed odd, as there were no lizardfolk in this region, at least not this far upriver--maybe elsewhere along the Mirrormere, but not down here.

Returning our attention to the mill, we cautiously entered the building. It was quiet and empty, save that the millstone was turning. We also noticed that the Miller's cashbox was removed from its hiding place and an empty scabbard hung in his study. We found some items in the cashbox that we returned to the Miller's wife when we returned to town.

Also, in his diary was some kind of tortured love poem. We weren't able to determine what it meant, but the Miller started looking to be going insane. Jealousy? He was always jealous of one man or another, for how they looked at either his wife or his daughter.

Tanthril started looking for tracks, and found a number of lizardman tracks both inside the mill (there was flour on the floor that made it easier) and outside in the mud leading to the water. There were some other tracks, too, that lead to the forest.

Following them into the forest (Ripper and Dodger getting anxious again, but I wouldn't be able to invoke the magic that let me talk to them until tomorrow), one of the group noticed the Miller's feet as he was dragged up into a tree. Tanthril quickly climbed up the tree while we formed a defensive perimeter. When he tried to grab the Miller, though, to see if he was all right, he got attacked by a spider as big as he was!

There were two of them, another six encircling us from the forest at large. While Tanthril was able to score a hit on one of the spiders, we were unable to stop the two from escaping deeper into the forest, one of them dragging the Miller. We were able to shake off the spiders that tried to attack us from the trees. Dodger scored a claw hit on one of them, but Ripper was hit by the spider, and between the poison and the hideous bite of the creature dropped unconscious. I rescued my friend and scooped him into his carrying pouch on my backpack.

We chased after the escaping spiders, but when we started hearing the sounds of perhaps a score of them preparing to encircle us and attack, we retreated back to town to seek advice and aid.

Aid, of course, was not forthcoming. With the wizard (and it's his fault, anyway) down by the lake, our skills made us the posse of choice for the town. The sheriff wasn't going to even lift a finger (although, he could stand to lift several of them in rapid succession--his wife's cooking is obviously getting the better of him.)

Aunt Mel wasn't able to help much, either. Her advice consisted primarily of, "try not to let them bite you." She seemed very much not to want to feed my instinct to intercede for other people, when her philosophy has always been to let nature work as it would.

So, here we are in town, preparing to rest and then set out again after the Miller to where the spiders have him captive. I'm fairly certain that he's being held captive for some reason, set up by the wizard to be attacked by the lizardman who then delivered him to the spiders.

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TANTHRIL:

Alas, adventure, murder, mystery, and intrigue has finally arrived here in Mirromere! It is a rare event for me to skip days between my trusty journal entries, but so it has come to pass! I have been distracted from my farming duties (much to the dismay of my father) and also to my journal entries by my recentadventures with my trusty companions Jorie, Cyril, and Rodrigo. Something sinister is amiss here in Mirromere with the kidnapping and murder of Jonas Miller, and Sheriff Bell has proved to be quite worthless as a protector of our community. Ehlonna only knows what would have happened to our poor town had danger reared its ugly head when I was just a child and unable to defend my hapless community! I will try and be as detailed as possible with the events unfolding around me so as to leave a long and heroic record of my deeds to come so that bards everywhere can sing of the Heroes of Mirromere and their fearless leader, Tanthril Silvermane! Of course, the rigors of adventuring may keep me from my journal at times, but as Ehlonna is my witness, I will dutifully describe in writing all that passes in my adventures to come as best as possible....

Now to the more pressing details at hand, just three nights past during the morning daybreak, our group of worthy adventurers was approached by a beautiful damsel in distress, the miller's daughter, Mari. Apparently, her father, Jonas, did not return home the night before. So off we went down to the mill to see what was the matter. The journey to the mill was uneventful, but when we arrived at the mill, we all could sense something was amiss. We discovered the mill empty and the signs of a scuffle within. An open chest of valuables lay inside the mill, along with a note written by what appeared to be a madman in the miller's handwriting. I also spotted a strange creature (a lizardman perhaps?) fleeing from the mill via the stream outside. Instead of engaging in the futile exercise of pursuing the odd creature through the water, I began tracking what appeared to be two sets of footprints to the edge of the Creeping Woods nearby.

Peering inside the woods, our group noticed what appeared to be the body of the miller being yanked up into the trees! Without hesitation, our party began to encircle the tree where the miller had last been seen as I set about sneaking around the flank trying to surprise any would-be bandits. As we approached the tree, we saw the miller seated on a branch above, a strange gaze embedded within his face. He appeared to be breathing so I quickly slung my bow over my shoulder and began climbing the tree. As soon as I reached the branch where the miller lay, a spider as big as a man jumped out of nowhere and almost knocked me down to the forest below. I was able to shift my weight to my left and grab another branch to stabilize myself, but in doing so, left my defenses wide open and the giant spider took a gash out of my side! I could feel its poisonous bile begin to coarse through my veins, but I ignored the burning sensation and drew my trusty longsword. At last, I had a real enemy to skewer on my virgin blade! With a quick strike of my blade I sent the abomination crashing to the ground below with a screech and began to work on lowering the miller slowly down to my companions.

Unfortunately, the dying creatures cry of pain seemed to grab the attention of more of his kin, and soon the trees were alive with the sounds of unseen predators. As cries from my comrades broke out below, I tried feverishly to finish tying the knot around the miller's limp body so I could lower him down safely. Once again, the speed and ferocity of the spiders caught me off-guard, and before I knew it a pair of the vicious beasts were before me, their huge fangs dripping poisonous mucus! One feigned left and as I tried to move away from its gaping maw, the other was right there waiting for me. Once again I felt the nausea of the creatures poison working its way through my body, but I was able to ignore its effects. I angerly smashed the butt of my long sword on its forehead and pushed it back away from me as I struggled to stay balanced on the wavering branch. The spiders acted quickly and in tandem. The one who had just moments before feigned an attack, grabbed the miller in its mouth and instead of tearing him in half with his rigid fangs, he delicately seemed to nestle him within gaps between his fangs and began bounding through the trees in full retreat. This unnatural behavior bothered me, and I swung hastily at the spider left in front of me while shouting to my comrades below. The spider dodged my awkward blow and lept away in pursuit of his fellow creature. The two of them were moving through the trees at an unbelievable rate, and there was not much time left before they would be out of my sight. I instinctively dropped my sword to the ground below me, knelt down on one knee as I drew my bow, and hastily fired two arrows at the fleeing beast – praying to Ehlonna that my shot would hit true and not harm the miller. One of the arrows did indeed find its target and it embedded itself deep within the leaping spider, but it was not enough to stop it for good. I was able to grab a branch to steady myself with just in time. When I looked up, I saw the miller and the two spiders disappear deep within the Creeping Woods. That was the last time anyone saw the miller alive.

We were able to regroup from the battle and decided to pursue the miller and his captors deeper with the woods. We followed a few hundred yards before our instincts told us it was a futile attempt. We could begin to hear the woods become alive with unnatural sounds, and we dared not tempt the Fates any more than we already had. We retraced our steps back through the woods, and I grabbed a carcass of one of the giant spiders we had killed. It would be the proof we needed to back up our incredible story, and get the help we needed to find the miller. Or so we thought…..

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:34 PM

The group headed home. Cyril and Rodrigo went to talk to Miller's wife and daughter, while Tanthril and Jorie headed over to Sheriff Bell to inform him of the problem.

Unfortunately for them, Bell was in no mood to listen to the ramblings of a bunch of youngsters known for their wild ways and wilder imaginations. Sure, he could accept the premise of a giant spider; he could even accept the idea of a pack of them working together; but he wasn't ready to fly off the handle and assume some sinister power behind it all.

"What you got there," he said matter-of-factly, "is a hungry spider and a man who got too close to the Creeping Wood. Nature will have its way, you know. Just because you two have so far been lucky enough to escape harm, running around in there without supervision, doesn't mean everybody can expect the same."

Tanthril was incensed. "How can you stand by and do nothing? We must form a search party!"

"If Jonas Miller ain't dead yet, he soon will be. I'm here to protect this town, not to lead a war party into the woods for no good reason. Now," he said, standing up slowly, "who's going to go over and tell his wife?"

"Cyril's already taking care of that."

The sherriff sat down quickly, obviously pleased. "Well then, I'll be right here if you need me."

Tanthril snorted. "Oh, you've been a great help so far. Good day!"

------------------

Cyril wasn't having any better luck with the Millers. Rodrigo had skillfully persuaded Mari to head up to her room so that Cyril could talk to Frances alone. Rodrigo closed the door to Mari's room, cast a detect magic, and headed downstairs to check on Cyril.

"... and the giant spiders just sort of... took him away." Cyril's face was flushed and he was doing a poor job of averting his eyes from Frances' cleavage, protruding from her robe where she hugged her arms around herself.

The miller's wife was crying softly. Rodrigo could tell that her tears were genuine, and yet the aura of enchantment that glowed all around her could not be mistaken. Rod gently introduced himself to the conversation and slipped a comforting arm around her, trying to further gauge her reaction.

"Well, we reckon there's hope for him yet. They seemed to be taking him away, alive. We'll find him, and we'll bring him home." Rod watched her carefully for any sign of betrayal or disappointment. What he got instead was an angry explosion.

"Don't be daft! You want to fill me with false hopes... for what? I don't have the optimism of your youth. If he's still alive, it's only because the spiders haven't gotten to him yet... and..." She couldn't go on.

Rodrigo took Cyril into the hallway. "You give 'er the cash box yet?"

"Not yet. I want to be certain she's innocent first."

"Innocent of what? You can't just hang on to their property like that."

Cyril hissed back. "I told you I got it. Don't worry." He headed up the steps to talk to Mari. Rodrigo cast another detect magic and followed close behind. Sure enough, as soon as the young girl opened the door, Rod could clearly see an aura of enchantment around her, too. Rod turned and walked away to puzzle this out. Cyril shut the door softly behind him and tried to raise Mari's spirits-- they'd find her father. He promised.

------------------

With Rodrigo's news about the enchantment magic clearly visible on the miller's wife and daughter, the group quite naturally decided to take a detour down to have a chat with the wizard, John Wells. Yet for all their bluster and bravado and plans to "bring him to justice," they were afraid to approach his house from along the road. As fate would have it, they decided to follow the river, and walk along the lakeshore from there. Rodrigo noted-- with some concern-- that the walk along the shore would take longer. It was unlikely they'd reach Wells' abode before nightfall. Still, they set out, walking briskly, feeling heroic.

Where the river met the lake, they found Jonas Miller.

His body, first dessicated and now waterlogged, was floating in the water. He'd been drained of blood, and the bite marks were still evident on his neck. Rodrigo's face went as white as Miller's, and he crossed himself-- but Jorie and Tanthril agreed that the bites were not inconsistent with the spiders'.

Now they were more anxious than ever to spy on Wells, despite Cyril's insistence that they should return home immediately with the body. They settled for building a cairn by the edge of the lake, intent on returning later to recover the body, and moved on further up the lakeshore.

Just after sunset, they reached Wells' "house," built into the branches of an enormous cypress set out into the water. Difficult to reach, unless you could fly (like a wizard) or swim (like a lizardman...). Tanthril snorted. "Typical wizard."

They crouched in the trees to spy on the house, and as the sun fell, were rewarded with the sight of Wells flying out of the treetop, across the bright moon, and off towards town. As they sat wondering what to do next, they were surprised to see that the treehouse was not empty. Two figures, mere silhouettes, remained behind-- a short, slender figure; and a taller, sturdier figure. The taller figure crouched down while the shorter one paced nervously. The heroes strained to hear their conversation, which seemed to be growing more heated by the moment. Eventually the taller figure stood again-- the tell-tale shadow of a tail falling across the window-- and spoke in a low growling hiss that the group could hear all the way back at the shore.

"Fear not. Teacher will know what to do."

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JORIE's SECOND SESSION LOG

Moonday, Planting 17

Freaking kobolds! Riding freaking spiders! Wait until my parents and Aunt Mel hear about this!

Okay, so yesterday we decided we should go stake out John Wells' house. It's the first time any of us have been there, so we decided to go to the creek and follow the lake shore around to the tree. I was reluctant to go along the lake. There's at least one lizardman and all likely to be around there.

Anyway, on the way from the road to the lake we saw the Miller's body floating down the creek. Cyril waded in and pulled him ashore. He was fully drained of blood. We checked and there were only two sets of bite marks, the ones on his back which were probably the initial ones, and one set on his neck, which looks to be where all his blood was drained. For now we took and built a temporary cairn, as we didn't want to lose a full day right now.

Anyway, we hid on shore just across from the little island that his treehouse is on--who knew he had a treehouse, anyway? There we saw two shapes inside the treehouse, a tall shape which turned out to be a lizardman, and a shorter shape. At dusk we saw the wizard's shape flying out of the treehouse toward the village. The rest of the group vetoed my plan to swim across to the island and attack the two remaining. I remember hearing the lizardman arguing with the little one, and calling Wells "Teacher". Nothing else that happened that night.

The next morning, we collected the Miller's body and went back to town. First we delivered the body to the sheriff and told him what we found. Rodrigo started talking about vampires. I don't think he's serious. I think he's just trying to stir up some people. I've told a couple of the locals (Grace, Mari, Aunt Mel) that it really looks to be spiders. Strange spiders, though. They attack as a pack and drag off their prey as a team effort, yet only one gets to eat?

At any rate, the sheriff was able to get the body prepared for burial late in the afternoon. We all attended the funeral. I sat next to Mari and offered my shoulder to cry on. I think she's after Cyril, not that he would know. After the funeral, we headed over to Grace's.

Wells showed up that evening over at Grace's, too. We talked to him for a bit when he wasn't playing for the crowd. Some people think he's a regular bard. I think he's a regular bastard. Anyway, we told him about the lizardman from the mill the day the Miller was abducted. He lied to our faces and said he didn't know of any lizardfolk in the area. Cyril's eyes nearly popped out of his head, but I don't think Wells noticed.

Finally, everything died down, and Wells flew back to his treehouse. We decided--okay, Tanthril decided and we all went along with it--that we should go and stake out the cemetery and, I don't know, make sure no one came in to disrupt the new grave, and also make sure that the body didn't rise from the grave as an undead vampire. I don't know what we would've done if it did. Run away quickly, I guess.

We were attacked, though. Some kobolds riding the same giant hunting spiders tried to sneak up on us. Rodrigo heard them, though, and together we were able to scare them off while killing one of the kobolds. In mockery of what they did to the Miller, I took the kobold, hung him by his feet in a tree, and made two small incisions in his neck to let all the blood drain out. I don't remember what we did with the body after that.

TANTHRIL's SECOND SESSION LOG

There is one thing I am certain of at this point: something sinister and foul is amiss here in Mirromere. Two days ago the mystery of the missing miller was solved when we found the pale corpse of Jonas Miller floating in the lake. Our subsequent scouting of the mysterious John Well's home only opened up more questions for our party. Who were the two cronies living with the wizard and why did one of them have a tail very similar to that seen on the strange "lizardman" we saw at the mill? Could the adulterous wife of the miller be somehow involved with the miller's death or is she just a pawn in this whole tragedy? And what is the relevance of the strange note we found within the mill?

All of these questions are beginning to make my brain hurt. I would rather storm into battle against the source of this evil rather than wander around looking for clues. Just point me in the direction of the villain, and I will extract vengeance on the miller's behalf!

Clues, clues, clues…talk, talk, and more talk…argh! As a last minute decision, we all ventured at nightfall to the cemetery on the outskirts of town to see if the murderer would show himself (and also to appease Rodrigo's incessant cries of the miller being killed by a vampire and rising as an undead abomination). Once again, at the cemetery, giant spiders - this time with kobold riders - attempted to ambush us. We were successful in driving them off quite quickly, and I was pleased with myself to have nearly taken the head off of one of the vile kobolds with a well placed arrow. My comrades were a little displeased that we were not able to capture the kobold alive and gather information about its master, but I was quite happy with my handiwork.

We must now make a tough decision. We cannot let whoever is behind this evil ambush and attack us at will. We must take the fight to them within whatever dark, dank lair they call home! I am not confident we have enough proof against Jon Wells to exact vigilante justice against him and his home. All we have is circumstantial evidence at best. Our best bet may be to head into the Creeping Woods to try and track down the giant spider's and kobold's lair. Perhaps there we will find the mastermind behind this evil or, at worst, clues to their whereabouts…

RODRIGO's SECOND SESSION LOG

"The only good Vampire is a dead one...wait I guess they're dead already ain't they boy? Guess there aint no such thing as a good Vampire after all, then." Thats what Pa used to say at least. Seems to me like all these strange goings on can be related directly back to that shifty bastard Wells. Too many coincidences for my taste. The night time visits, the charmed ladies, all the raw meat, the bite marks and the goings on in the graveyard can only mean one thing: Vampires! Well I guess they could really mean a lot but that certainly sounds more heroic than a few hungry spiders.

I remember when I was traveling with the menagerie what would happen. You know, we would hit town and some curious local would get his melon bit off by a manticore or somethin. Well the next thing you know we all would be hightailin it down the road with a mob of torch wielding loonies on our ass. So I say to myself, there must be some use for the fine townsfolks. Thats when it dawns on me that if push comes to shove and it really is a vampire then we could use all the help we can get from these folks. If not, well then at least they can breath a sigh of relief when we bring whatever the cause is to heel. The others don't seem to share the same feelings I do about this vampire thing but I can understand that too, they are much more reserved in their opinions. In all honesty I am hopin it's just a case of a couple Kobolds with goiter.

Wulf Ratbane · 15th January 2002, 04:44 PM

In the interest of another post, and on the strength of this session's journals, we'll let the players speak for themselves this time!

JORIE's THIRD SESSION JOURNAL

Planting 20:

Today we struck our first major blow against the kobolds, and a glorious thing it was.

The morning after the spider-riding kobolds attacked, we followed their trail back into the woods. After following back for a little over an hour we made a disturbing discovery. The little bags of fewmets (dragon feces) actually built a fort. The fort was about 60' across with 4 spindly towers in the corners reaching 20'. In the center there was a large tower rising 30' connected with the corner towers by shaky rope bridges. I wouldn't want to try to run across those--you'd be almost guaranteed to plummet to the ground. Kobold engineering--feh!

Granted, they also did us a big favor by clearing out the surrounding area from the Wood. If they had gnomish ingenuity, they'd've taken advantage of their tree-jumping spiders and built a fortress in the canopy where it would be nearly invisible to casual passersby. But no, they're only kobolds. Dumb as dragon droppings.

We took stock of the situation. With Cyril and Nik back in town, and Cyril considering retirement from adventuring, we needed a better plan than to simply storm the gates. Since the idiots had gone to the favor of building a fort and clearing it from the woods, the least we could do was to burn it out from under them. The wood was green, though--the lazy cretins couldn't even be burdened to make sure they cleared all the living vines from their fort's walls. Alchemist's fire should do the trick.

The other odd discovery was that there was now a lake behind the fort. It looked like there was a man-made (or something-made anyway) channel that ran from the lake to the creek. Water flowed out of the lake, so there must be some kind of water source under it to feed it. Odd, though, that that lake wasn't there not two months ago when Tanthril and I last patrolled out this way.

After following the little stream back to the creek, we headed back to town. Going briefly over what we found, Aunt Mel agreed to make the alchemist's fire for us. All we had to do was get the reagents she needed, all of which could be found in town at Rattek's store, except for phosphorus. She suggested that maybe Wells, being a wizard, would have that.

We borrowed a canoe from Hastur and paddled down stream and out to the island the wizard's tree is on. On shore near the island, we saw two shapes, a small, slender elf woman and a taller figure. When they saw we were approaching, the larger figure ran off into the woods near the shore. We played dumb about the larger one, which we believe was the lizardman, and introduced ourselves to Dria.

Dria is a "friend" of Wells, and offered to help us, since the wizard was out of town. When she asked what the phosphorus was for, Rodrigo said it was so that my aunt could make some fireworks. She agreed to trade a pound of phosphorus for trade in kind, so Tanthril and I went down to the base of the tree and hunted around for some berries for about an hour. Rodrigo emerged with a smile on his face and a package of phosphorus.

Noting how late it was, we headed back to the cemetery, to see if the Miller was going to rise as a vampire. Nothing happened, though.

The next morning we delivered the phosphorus. Tanthril and I caught up on sleep while Rodrigo delivered the cashbox to the Miller's widow.

That night we went back out to the cemetery and kept watch over the Miller's grave again. I don't think he's going to rise from the grave now, but the graveyard does put us out in the woods a little away from the town. I took midwatch, and even though the moon was giving me plenty of light to see by, I couldn't make out the shapes that I could hear moving out in the trees. Dodger growled softly at my feet as I woke the others up. In an effort to see what was sneaking around out there, I cast dancing lights near where the noises were coming from. Immediately there was a flurry of activity as at least a half dozen, but probably not more than a dozen spider-riding kobolds retreated deep into the woods toward their fort. Next time I'm going to hit them with an enchantment ofentanglement.

The next morning we found out that the kobolds had slaughtered at least one sheep and dragged it back into the woods leaving a path of blood. At the sheriff's urging we agreed to keep watch over the commons from now on, but also suggested that the sheep be brought into a smaller area at night. We also picked up the alchemist's fire and some oil to help us take out the kobold fort.

The plan was for Tanthril to throw the alchemist's fire at the fort while Rodrigo and I threw oil to make it help it burn. Right as he threw the first bomb, though, a half dozen kobolds started firing crossbows at him. Tantril took several crossbow bolts that were undoubtedly coated with some vile poison. I crossed over toward him and raised an obscuring mist, providing cover from the kobolds. Tanthril was able to connect with both towers and we were able to burn down most of one wall of the fort. During the initial assault we were also able to chase off one of their sorcerers. Rodrigo kept throwing magic missiles at the thing until it jumped down into a bolt hole the cowards had prepared.

It appeared that most of the kobolds fled, although two of their stronger fighters remained behind in a rearguard action with their shieldbearers. We were able to shoot the one with arrows, bolts, and bullets, causing it to run away into the forest. The other one Tanthril had to charge up to and engage in hand to hand combat. It and its shieldbearer flanked Tanthril and seemed to have him in danger of being cut down, so I ran to the base of the center column to back him up with Dodger and Ripper in their carrying pouches.

When I got to the base of the column, one of their massive spiders jumped out of a concealed hole and bit me, making me feel instantly weakened. It tried to pull me down into the hole it had jumped out of, but Dodger and Ripper jumped at it and were able to scare the thing off with vicious claws and teeth. As the thing retreated, I continued up to where the rope bridges connected to the center. I pulled out my healing wand, but Tanthril was able to cut down the fiercer kobold just then. I used the power of the wand to heal him anyway, in case we were attacked by anything.

With the fort massively burnt, we decided to retreat back to town.

Hmmm, now that I think about it, maybe those weren't simple hidey-holes. Maybe they are tunnel entrances that lead underground. Maybe next time we can descend on the kobold lair!

TANTHRIL's THIRD SESSION JOURNAL

We have taken charge of our destiny and brought righteous fire down upon the defilers of the forest! Let them never sleep soundly knowing that Tanthril Silvermane walks amongst the living!

Shortly after my last entry, our party decided the best course of action was to investigate the Creeping Woods within which the dog-men and their monstrous mounts were hiding. After an entire morning was spent attempting to track the vermin back to their lair, we came upon a site that made us all stop dead in our tracks. Hidden deep within the Creeping Woods, an entire section of the forest had been stripped clean of life to help construct what looked like a large kobold outpost.

The outpost was made haphazardly of the nearby trees, sticks, and vines of the forest into a square outpost with four outer towers and one large inner tower. There was no immediately visible entrance to the den of evil. Stranger yet, I could sense the faint whisper of running water emanating from behind the outpost. We quietly attempted to sneak around the edges of the woods to get a better look at the source of the sounds and were once again stunned by what we found. Where there once lay a vast forested area now was replaced by a large, unnatural body of water which appeared to flow southward towards the mill. Jorie and I gave each other a quick glance, and we both knew someone or something was going to pay dearly for this atrocity to nature, Ehlonna-willing.

After sizing up the defenses of the outpost, we all agreed that a frontal assault would prove futile. We needed some way of confusing the defenders while at the same time damaging the inherent defenses of the fortification. With no visible way inside, there was only two things we could do to exact vengeance on the dirty vermin inside: go over the walls or go through them. I was not opposed to going over the walls to get to the retribution that awaited inside, but Jorie was hesitant. I guess I couldn't blame him; the walls were, afterall, almost three times his height. Rodrigo sided with Jorie as well, and put a stop to that method of thinking. I suppose it was a little much for me to expect a gnome and a foppish sorceror to attempt any kind of athletic prowess, much less under the stress of battle.

Rodrigo suggested that we burn the fort and use the fire and smoke to our advantage.

Neither Jorie nor myself was initially too keen on burning down the outpost with fire as it might spread and destroy the entire Creeping Woods, but the ever-wise sorceror pointed out that the kobolds had done a good job of clearing out the area around the outpost of all vegetation in their haste to build the large walls and towers. Perhaps too well of a job. The vermins' inherent laziness might very well be their doom.

So it was agreed upon that we would use fire and smoke to burn them out of their defenses and fight us on our terms. The only problem thing we needed now was a source of insatiable fire. It was obvious by the greenness of the wood that the fort was made out of that a normal torch or flame would not likely take, and even if it did, it would only end up producing a large amount of smoke before quickly extinguishing itself. Jorie suggested we head back to his aunt's farm to ask her about a mysterious concoction that she had told Jorie about many moons ago called Alchemist's fire;. Supposedly, this Alchemist's fire was some kind of magic that burned white-hot and ignited anything that it came in contact with. If the legends were true, then perhaps Jorie's aunt would be able to harness this Alchemist's fire and provide us a way to use it against the vile kobolds.

So we performed a tactical retreat from the outpost and promised Ehlonna that we would return soon and restore the balance of nature. We made it back to Jorie's aunt's farm by mid-afternoon and informed her of what we had found. She was deeply disturbed by the news and suggested we inform Sheriff Bell of the imminent danger to the townspeople. When I unconsciously laughed at her suggestion, she gave me a quick, stern look, and I immediately ceased. This was indeed a serious problem, and we did need the inept sheriff's help in this matter after all. Our group of noble defenders could not be in two places at the same time, and while we brought down our righteous boot upon the forces of evil, someone would have to help defend the town and its sheep.

Jorie's aunt continued to speak to Jorie and Rodrigo about this mystical Alchemist's fire and its magical properties. Apparently, we needed to gather some ingredients to harness the power of this fire. I did not understand what such things as phosphorous, lye, or sulfur were, nor did I care. I had never been comfortable with the arcane arts that Rodrigo and Jorie dabbled in. I preferred the good old-fashioned method of dealing with evil: shake it loose and smack it around.

Before long, I dazed off into a trance and was entertaining myself with thoughts of how I would storm the kobold's outpost and lay down Ehlonna's teachings upon the heathen kobold's foreheads. Jorie was the one to smack me upside the head to bring me back to reality and tell me that we needed to pay a visit to Jon Wells in order to secure some key ingredients to make the Alchemist's fireWe would set off in the morning in a "borrowed" boat from the dock to meet with the wizard, face-to-face. In the meantime, we needed to inform the Sheriff of our discoveries.

The meeting with the Sheriff was about as useful as I had imagined. Thank Ehlonna that it was at least short. The coward hesitantly obliged to help defend the town from harm only after we told him that if he didn't defend the town he would be left with the responsibility of attacking and destroying the kobold outpost. I would be surprised if the Sheriff, his sons, and their sheep were still in town by the time we return from the attack. Pfffft.

The next morning the three of us set off on the lake and headed out to the wizard's tower. The trip was fairly uneventful until finally the wizard's tree came into sight. I immediately spotted along the bank of the lake two cloaked figures-- one of which who had what appeared to be a tail. It had to be the lizardman from the mill! I quickly notched an arrow, ready to strike down the foul creature, but he noticed us as well, and bounded into the forest nearby. The other cloaked figure began gesturing and chanting, and knowing that nothing good ever came about from a mysteriously cloaked figure gesturing and chanting, I almost set sail my arrow into its chest. The loud screams of protest from Rodrigo and Jorie stopped me from taking this hasty action, and I sat still in the boat awaiting some fiery bolt to quickly overwhelm us and send us to the bottom of the lake. Fortunately, no such event took place and we were able to paddle safely to shore. Our lives were spared this time, but I couldn't promise Jorie or Rodrigo that I wouldn't act the same way in another combat situation in the future. Sooner or later, they would see things my way and realize it was better to be alive and kicking than be dead (or worse) by the hands of an evil mage.

The remaining cloaked figure on the bank greeted us and revealed herself to be a quite attractive elven female. She obviously was trying to use her natural charms to distract us from pursuing the murderous lizardman whom had just escaped into the nearby woods. While approaching the shore in the boat, Jorie had made it clear that we were to play dumb and not pursue or mention the lizardman whom we had seen. I begrudgingly agreed, not quite understanding why we were parlaying with the enemy but trusting my wise friend in his decision. If we must seek more clues to get to the root of the evil, then so be it. In either case, I would be present at the time the evil is finally unveiled and would make sure it is decisively hacked into many lifeless pieces-- never to sprout again!

The cloaked figure seemed to immediately target the foppish Rodrigo as easy bait, and began to seductively entrance him with the heaves and sighs of her ample buxom. In reality, I could not determine who was playing who for a fool, but if indeed Rodrigo was falling for this creature, I could not honestly blame him. She was truly beautiful. I only hoped Rodrigo would not lessen his guard around her just because of this fact, though. Ehlonna teaches us that beauty in nature often hides many a dangerous foe.

Within minutes, Rodrigo had accomplished the unthinkable and had managed for us to gain entrance into the wizard's tower to gain some magical reagent called phosphorous. I obviously was wary of an ambush from within the tower so kept my hands near my blades and my body close to the elf. If treachery were to be revealed, the elf would pay for the deed with her life.

We easily gained entrance to the tower with the young elf by our side and she let Rodrigo scour one of the storage rooms for the reagents that he sought. Once he had found the phosphorous, the elf began haggling payment. Since we had no money to pay for the reagents, she asked that we pay her in services. She asked Jorie and I to go down to the shore to pick berries. Pffft. Leave it for an elf to demand that berries be picked. She obviously wanted to be with Rodrigo alone. Tactically, this was a very bad idea, as I knew that the foppish sorceror could not handle a slimy toad in combat by himself, let alone a clever elven magic-wielder within a wizard's tower. If treachery was truly afoot and we ventured back to the shore without Rodrigo, there would be little I could do to save my friend from doom.

Once again, my wise gnome companion gave me the look that said "Cooperate. Trust me on this." So I sucked in my pride and went along with the berry picking chore against my better judgement. The berry picking took only a few moments, and Jorie and I spent the remainder of an hour waiting patiently at the base of the tree. I intently listened for a scream that would announce the elf's treachery, but instead my ears were only greeted by the sounds of passion. Pffft. Magic users...

We returned later that afternoon to Jorie's aunt's farm, and she began preparing the Alchemist's fire. It would take a day to prepare, so we spent the night resting at the farm and preparing for the morrow's events. With the morning daybreak, we set out towards the kobold outpost. I was carrying three large flasks of Alchemist's fire on my back and about a dozen flasks of oil that the useless Sheriff was all too happy to pitch in. For some reason, Jorie and Rodrigo insisted on staying well behind me as I scouted ahead into the woods. I sure hoped they weren't getting cold feet in lieu of the battle before us.

Within the hour, we approached the fort via the woods to the west. As we eyed the outpost before us, we attempted to spot any lookouts or guards. Just as before, we saw nothing. I divvied up the flasks of oil, giving three of each to everyone. Hopefully the oil combined with the Alchemist's fire would be enough heat and light to get the kobolds to flee the safety of their outpost. Assuming we had the element of surprise with the kobolds sleeping inside, we began the attack. Jorie quickly reminded me that the Alchemist's fire was extremely volatile and deadly and that I was not to be anywhere near the flask when it broke open. I nodded quietly as I eyed the magic potion with caution. Pffft. Why couldn't magic stuff be as reliable as my trusty swords? With that last warning, Jorie crept inside the woods to my left and readied his sling.

A few short moments later, I crept to the edge of the forest, just within view of the clearing, and prepared to hurl the flask towards the southwest tower. Before I knew what hit me, three crossbow bolts slammed into the area around me staggering me briefly. I instinctively followed through with my throwing motion sending the flask sailing towards the tower. Seconds later, I felt a wave of heat upon my face as the flask erupted into white flames and ignited the outpost's wall and tower with fire. Thank Ehlonna I hadn't dropped that flask! Now I knew why Jorie and Rodrigo didn't want to stand very close to me during our journey through the woods!

Pain welled up from my thigh as I instinctively yanked a crossbow bolt from my leg and one from my shoulder. The damned dog-men had been ready for our attack! Time seemed to freeze and everything around me appeared in slow motion. I gulped down a potion that Jorie's aunt had given each of us before we left. It was supposed to be able to heal the wounds of battle. Right now, I was in the middle of a battle and was badly wounded, so magic or no magic, I was going to give it a try! Within seconds, the potion seemed to have the desired affect and the burning sensations in my leg and arm disappeared. I quickly hurled another flask of Alchemist's fire towards what I believed to be the northwest tower as I could no longer see it. A dense fog had appeared in the clearing in front of me, and I was fairly sure it was the result of some magicks that Rodrigo or Jorie had summoned. The dense mist was certainly doing its job as I was able to move freely within the woods and rid