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The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Byzantium on the Shannon III
- Thread starter CleverName
- Start date
Monkey Man
First Post
Character Intro II
Jon Hanna here. First off let me express my thanks for all of the kind thoughts and words shown on this board in regards to the horrific events in my life. They are much appreciated.
Now. On to why were here…
Character Write up: Makar Gideon - Sorcerer at Large
Makar Gideon is a human orphan who grew up in the city of Antioch, a port city on the inner sea. He has no idea who his real parents were, but ever since his sorcerous powers manifested, he is more curious as to that answer. He was left at the orphanage when he was only days old. They took him in, of course, and gave him the name Makar. Gideon is the surname given to all orphans at the Antioch mission, since Saint Gideon is their patron.
His early years at the orphanage were harsh and cruel, even by the stereotypical harsh and cruel standards recognized today. His overseer was Brother Cuthred, a man devoid of any humor or pity. Mercy was not in his vocabulary in regards to his charges. Brother Cuthred was destined to rise far in the church. By the age of eight, Makar had had enough of this life. He had always loved the sea and the ships. He decided to leave.
Makar stowed away on an Alfar merchant ship, the Nidhug. When he was found, he was taken before the ships captain, Skiold Annarsson. Skiold decided not to throw Makar overboard just yet. He thought that they could get a few good days work out of him first. After working furiously, Makar impressed Skiold enough that the captain allowed him to stay on board as a ship’s hand, as long as he justified the expense of feeding him. Makar stayed with the ship for years.
At the age of 13, things changed. That is when Makar’s sorcery started to manifest itself. At first the rest of the crew were terrified of him. Captain Annarsson, however, quickly ascertained the significance of Makar’s abilities, and the earnings potential that they represented. He made Makar his bodyguard, to keep him close. Makar quickly came to appreciate his rise in status on the ship, and readily obeyed Skiold’s orders, even when they were not necessarily legal.
The Nidhug traveled far and wide, and got into many adventures. With a sorcerer who was steadily growing in power, and a hearty fighting crew, Skiold’s thoughts turned more and more towards dangerous outings. He didn’t shy away from trying to make as much money as possible, regardless of the circumstances. Merchant voyages came less and less, and soon adventuring was pretty much all the ship did.
When Makar was 23, things went wrong. Captain Annarsson simply disappeared one night. Makar had gone to fetch Skiold’s logbook from the captain’s cabin on the Nidhug, and bring it back to the tavern where they were drinking. When Makar returned, the captain, along with everyone else in the place, was simply gone. The food was still hot and half eaten, the mug still had a head, but there was no one to be found in the building. No blood or signs of conflict were apparent. Makar quickly left and returned to the ship. They stayed in the harbor for a few days, and tried to determine what had happened, but were never able to find the answer.
Makar is now out on his on, traveling around, finding his own way to make money. He enjoys adventuring, but he always has an eye out for clues as to his captain’s strange disappearance.
Jon Hanna here. First off let me express my thanks for all of the kind thoughts and words shown on this board in regards to the horrific events in my life. They are much appreciated.
Now. On to why were here…
Character Write up: Makar Gideon - Sorcerer at Large
Makar Gideon is a human orphan who grew up in the city of Antioch, a port city on the inner sea. He has no idea who his real parents were, but ever since his sorcerous powers manifested, he is more curious as to that answer. He was left at the orphanage when he was only days old. They took him in, of course, and gave him the name Makar. Gideon is the surname given to all orphans at the Antioch mission, since Saint Gideon is their patron.
His early years at the orphanage were harsh and cruel, even by the stereotypical harsh and cruel standards recognized today. His overseer was Brother Cuthred, a man devoid of any humor or pity. Mercy was not in his vocabulary in regards to his charges. Brother Cuthred was destined to rise far in the church. By the age of eight, Makar had had enough of this life. He had always loved the sea and the ships. He decided to leave.
Makar stowed away on an Alfar merchant ship, the Nidhug. When he was found, he was taken before the ships captain, Skiold Annarsson. Skiold decided not to throw Makar overboard just yet. He thought that they could get a few good days work out of him first. After working furiously, Makar impressed Skiold enough that the captain allowed him to stay on board as a ship’s hand, as long as he justified the expense of feeding him. Makar stayed with the ship for years.
At the age of 13, things changed. That is when Makar’s sorcery started to manifest itself. At first the rest of the crew were terrified of him. Captain Annarsson, however, quickly ascertained the significance of Makar’s abilities, and the earnings potential that they represented. He made Makar his bodyguard, to keep him close. Makar quickly came to appreciate his rise in status on the ship, and readily obeyed Skiold’s orders, even when they were not necessarily legal.
The Nidhug traveled far and wide, and got into many adventures. With a sorcerer who was steadily growing in power, and a hearty fighting crew, Skiold’s thoughts turned more and more towards dangerous outings. He didn’t shy away from trying to make as much money as possible, regardless of the circumstances. Merchant voyages came less and less, and soon adventuring was pretty much all the ship did.
When Makar was 23, things went wrong. Captain Annarsson simply disappeared one night. Makar had gone to fetch Skiold’s logbook from the captain’s cabin on the Nidhug, and bring it back to the tavern where they were drinking. When Makar returned, the captain, along with everyone else in the place, was simply gone. The food was still hot and half eaten, the mug still had a head, but there was no one to be found in the building. No blood or signs of conflict were apparent. Makar quickly left and returned to the ship. They stayed in the harbor for a few days, and tried to determine what had happened, but were never able to find the answer.
Makar is now out on his on, traveling around, finding his own way to make money. He enjoys adventuring, but he always has an eye out for clues as to his captain’s strange disappearance.
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CleverName
Explorer
Thanks Jon and Keith -- there's a lot for me to work with (as usual).
Last time Jon's character, Zacarra, mysteriously disappeared for a period of time and ended up making him into a half-formor monster, etc. Now he's craftily shifted the mysterious disappearance to his background NPCs...
Keith, what's the name of the hippogryph? (I suggest something Greek-sounding.)
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We will begin the game on board the a Dekkalfar knorr, the Gunnlod. The ship has a crew of 6, including the captain -- a female dekkalfar named Solveig. The five members of her crew are made up of three male ljosalfar ( Modi, Olyn and Harold) and two dekkalfar named Brokk and Daneb.
There is a small hold and the crew have berths there along with the cargo. The PCs are the only passengers. The crew erects a tarp that you can sleep under during the night.
The captain is a pretty seasoned merchant/sailor, as are the ljosalfar. They are all middle aged for their races. The two other dekkalfar, Solveig's nephews it seems, are rather green. (In many ways, if you get my drift.)
You will have been traveling most of two days from Ainthorpe to Ulvorsi when the adventure hook is set (see the map on the website).
Last time Jon's character, Zacarra, mysteriously disappeared for a period of time and ended up making him into a half-formor monster, etc. Now he's craftily shifted the mysterious disappearance to his background NPCs...
Keith, what's the name of the hippogryph? (I suggest something Greek-sounding.)
|-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_|
We will begin the game on board the a Dekkalfar knorr, the Gunnlod. The ship has a crew of 6, including the captain -- a female dekkalfar named Solveig. The five members of her crew are made up of three male ljosalfar ( Modi, Olyn and Harold) and two dekkalfar named Brokk and Daneb.
There is a small hold and the crew have berths there along with the cargo. The PCs are the only passengers. The crew erects a tarp that you can sleep under during the night.
The captain is a pretty seasoned merchant/sailor, as are the ljosalfar. They are all middle aged for their races. The two other dekkalfar, Solveig's nephews it seems, are rather green. (In many ways, if you get my drift.)
You will have been traveling most of two days from Ainthorpe to Ulvorsi when the adventure hook is set (see the map on the website).
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Monkey Man
First Post
Character Introduction III: Copoc Kitzam
Copoc Kitzam was hatched on the shores of Skia Thalassa east of Gelandri, where he spent his formative years frolicking in the bay and eating fish and water bugs with all the other lizards. He was always dimly aware that he was somehow different, and his brood often thought it strange and delightful that he seemed to have lengthy conversations with his food before consuming it. This was not strange to Copoc. However. He often had conversations with shells, rocks, sand, and the waves as well.
As Copoc grew older and his companions became great hunters and warriors, their differences became more marked. They would swing their clubs and smash sea turtles, while he would catch glimpses of spirits everywhere, distracting him from his tasks and challenging his sanity. Although most Kulkas are animists, their beliefs have become mostly ritualistic in nature. Few Kulkas in his tribe claimed to have seen actual spirits. Sure, the Shamans of legend brought forth armies of spirits and interacted with them freely, but they hadn’t existed since the egg of time. Copoc was now finding himself surrounded by wisps of gibbering nothingness, which seemed to tell him that someone or something was coming.
His tribe sensed something as well and began to shun him out of fear and uncertainty, approaching only when they needed one of his herbal poultices or healing concoctions. No one understood him. He was apart and alone until the night his Guardian Spirit arrived.
The spirit called himself Kanul Yat Balam, the great Ancestor, First of the Kulkas, and he offers to be Copoc’s companion and guide. Since that time Copoc has gradually pushed away from his traditional tribal homelands. He does check in frequently, however, and is committed to improving the stature of his tribe. He has contacted many more spirits and has recently boarded the Gunnlod at Kanul’s urging in order to mingle with other races and learn what he can of their philosophies and cultures. Although he is a big lizard in studded leather, he appears rather gentle unless provoked. He alternates between detached distractedness, and zealous curiosity. Often he can be found gazing skyward and mumbling to himself in a strange tongue.
Copoc Kitzam was hatched on the shores of Skia Thalassa east of Gelandri, where he spent his formative years frolicking in the bay and eating fish and water bugs with all the other lizards. He was always dimly aware that he was somehow different, and his brood often thought it strange and delightful that he seemed to have lengthy conversations with his food before consuming it. This was not strange to Copoc. However. He often had conversations with shells, rocks, sand, and the waves as well.
As Copoc grew older and his companions became great hunters and warriors, their differences became more marked. They would swing their clubs and smash sea turtles, while he would catch glimpses of spirits everywhere, distracting him from his tasks and challenging his sanity. Although most Kulkas are animists, their beliefs have become mostly ritualistic in nature. Few Kulkas in his tribe claimed to have seen actual spirits. Sure, the Shamans of legend brought forth armies of spirits and interacted with them freely, but they hadn’t existed since the egg of time. Copoc was now finding himself surrounded by wisps of gibbering nothingness, which seemed to tell him that someone or something was coming.
His tribe sensed something as well and began to shun him out of fear and uncertainty, approaching only when they needed one of his herbal poultices or healing concoctions. No one understood him. He was apart and alone until the night his Guardian Spirit arrived.
The spirit called himself Kanul Yat Balam, the great Ancestor, First of the Kulkas, and he offers to be Copoc’s companion and guide. Since that time Copoc has gradually pushed away from his traditional tribal homelands. He does check in frequently, however, and is committed to improving the stature of his tribe. He has contacted many more spirits and has recently boarded the Gunnlod at Kanul’s urging in order to mingle with other races and learn what he can of their philosophies and cultures. Although he is a big lizard in studded leather, he appears rather gentle unless provoked. He alternates between detached distractedness, and zealous curiosity. Often he can be found gazing skyward and mumbling to himself in a strange tongue.
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CleverName
Explorer
Malcom of the Vacomagi's Tale
Here is the last character entry from Remi Truer's PC:
My name is Malcolm and I am of the Vacomagi tribe; you may have heard of me. True, I grew up an urchin on the wharves of Vacomagus, but for several years I was captain of the Tall Reapers boarding crew on Rotting Curran's boat, 'Queen's Protector', captained by his daughter, the sorceress Ceileidh. Rotting Curran's been charged by Nighean, Queen of the Vacomagi, to make Skia Thalassa a little safer for ordinary sailors and passengers, a great man, even if he does have only one leg. We'd sail around helping folks, chasing off raiders from other tribes, that sort of thing. In return, the people we'd help would reward us (or else). It's an understood tradition out here on the dark waters.
It was a good life. Sure, sometimes we'd run into a group of Vacomagi who'd been charged by Nighean to make Skia Thalassa a little less safe for people out here. Those sorts of contradictions don't really occur to you when you're swinging over a bulwark on a frayed hemp rope you're holding in one hand, fending off the crew on the deck of the ship you're boarding with a broadsword in the other, praying that you don't fall in the water, because there's no way you're swimming in the fifty pounds of armor you're wearing. That was the motto of the Tall Reapers, "Don't Fall!" Most dangerous thing to a boarding party, regardless of what they're wearing, is the water between the two ships. Most likely you'd be crushed, shot or stabbed before you drowned, anyway, so might as well have a little extra protection.
Ah, sorry, sometimes I get a little carried away thinking of the old days. If you think I miss that life, I do, but I can't go back there. Not after what happened about a year ago. It was late afternoon on a cool fall day, much like today. It had been slow and the crew was getting restless when Idwal, saw a small merchant keelboat, not much more than a raft with a sail, being pursued by some kind of warship.
Ceileidh decided that it wasn't a fair fight, and so we lent our aid. We drew close to the warship, and I'd never seen anything like it – although I imagined it was of human design. It had a sleek black hull, tattered sails, no oars, and it stunk! Ceileidh got Queen's Protector into position, conjured up a nice pocket gale to get us going, and we sidled up to that reeking, black ship before its crew could maneuver away from us – that is if it had a crew. No one was on deck as our grapples suck into its decks and we drew ourselves into boarding position. That's when the Tall Reapers swung onto the deck, but the rotten wood opened up beneath them -- the black ship's belly opened, and a half-ton of maggot-ridden corpses spilled onto 'Protector's' deck and come crawling after us, moaning and screaming. Their skin was thick and moist, their bodies bloated, their faces blue, and the salty smell of the sea could not cover the stench of their rotting flesh. Most of the other Cimbri on deck broke immediately, but my Reapers went to work, wading in amongst the filthy hordes that washed onto the Queen's Protector like a tide of undeath.
Every time we pushed, sending dozens of Drowned Men back to the sea, more would come crawling out from the belly of the dark ship. The Tall Reapers had taken heavy losses in the fighting, but beyond the first rush, our comrades had come to our aid, and along with Ceileidh 's magic, we were holding our own. We cut the ropes binding the ships together but now the black ship’s crew formed grapples of animate bone and sinew. Before long, the sun was threatening to slip under the horizon. Fighting the undead under torchlight was not a palatable option. Ceileidh ordered everyone but the Reapers to man the oars in a last-ditch attempt to pull away from the black ship.
As the oars hit the water, pulling us slowly away from the gaping maw of the black ship, the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared and night ruled Skia Thalassa again. From deep inside the ship, something let out a long, low howl, and then my men began to fall. A shape with a white face clamped onto Tenenan, and he was dead before he hit the floor. The Drowned Men continued coming as their master passed through my Tall Reapers. I cannot remember his features, only the White, and triune claw tattoo of the Three Mothers on it’s brow, but I can conjure the chill in my bones I felt when I faced him. It was only luck I did not die by the White's touch as the rest of the Reaper's did. If Ioan hadn't buried his axe in the White's brow, he might not have thrown me overboard, but he did, and so I live where the rest of 'Queen's Protector's' crew died. As it is I’m not the warrior I once was. That thing stole some of my soul from me.
But how did I survive the fall? Even if I hadn't been unconscious, I was terribly weak after the White's attack. I do not know if it was merfolk or a final spell from Ceileidh, but when I woke, I was on the very merchant ship we had saved. They managed to get away from the crippled black ship as it fought the Protector. They found me on their deck the next morning. I don't know what saved me, but I'm glad that I have another chance at life, even if I feel like I'm half the man I was a year ago. It took me six months to get back on my feet, and I've been doing some easy guard work to get some of my strength back, but now I'm striking out on my own. It's not that I don't want to work for Rotting Curran anymore, but I need to avenge my fallen Reapers, and Curran understands that. I don't know if I'll ever feel whole again, but killing the White would go a long way toward quieting the voices.
Here is the last character entry from Remi Truer's PC:
My name is Malcolm and I am of the Vacomagi tribe; you may have heard of me. True, I grew up an urchin on the wharves of Vacomagus, but for several years I was captain of the Tall Reapers boarding crew on Rotting Curran's boat, 'Queen's Protector', captained by his daughter, the sorceress Ceileidh. Rotting Curran's been charged by Nighean, Queen of the Vacomagi, to make Skia Thalassa a little safer for ordinary sailors and passengers, a great man, even if he does have only one leg. We'd sail around helping folks, chasing off raiders from other tribes, that sort of thing. In return, the people we'd help would reward us (or else). It's an understood tradition out here on the dark waters.
It was a good life. Sure, sometimes we'd run into a group of Vacomagi who'd been charged by Nighean to make Skia Thalassa a little less safe for people out here. Those sorts of contradictions don't really occur to you when you're swinging over a bulwark on a frayed hemp rope you're holding in one hand, fending off the crew on the deck of the ship you're boarding with a broadsword in the other, praying that you don't fall in the water, because there's no way you're swimming in the fifty pounds of armor you're wearing. That was the motto of the Tall Reapers, "Don't Fall!" Most dangerous thing to a boarding party, regardless of what they're wearing, is the water between the two ships. Most likely you'd be crushed, shot or stabbed before you drowned, anyway, so might as well have a little extra protection.
Ah, sorry, sometimes I get a little carried away thinking of the old days. If you think I miss that life, I do, but I can't go back there. Not after what happened about a year ago. It was late afternoon on a cool fall day, much like today. It had been slow and the crew was getting restless when Idwal, saw a small merchant keelboat, not much more than a raft with a sail, being pursued by some kind of warship.
Ceileidh decided that it wasn't a fair fight, and so we lent our aid. We drew close to the warship, and I'd never seen anything like it – although I imagined it was of human design. It had a sleek black hull, tattered sails, no oars, and it stunk! Ceileidh got Queen's Protector into position, conjured up a nice pocket gale to get us going, and we sidled up to that reeking, black ship before its crew could maneuver away from us – that is if it had a crew. No one was on deck as our grapples suck into its decks and we drew ourselves into boarding position. That's when the Tall Reapers swung onto the deck, but the rotten wood opened up beneath them -- the black ship's belly opened, and a half-ton of maggot-ridden corpses spilled onto 'Protector's' deck and come crawling after us, moaning and screaming. Their skin was thick and moist, their bodies bloated, their faces blue, and the salty smell of the sea could not cover the stench of their rotting flesh. Most of the other Cimbri on deck broke immediately, but my Reapers went to work, wading in amongst the filthy hordes that washed onto the Queen's Protector like a tide of undeath.
Every time we pushed, sending dozens of Drowned Men back to the sea, more would come crawling out from the belly of the dark ship. The Tall Reapers had taken heavy losses in the fighting, but beyond the first rush, our comrades had come to our aid, and along with Ceileidh 's magic, we were holding our own. We cut the ropes binding the ships together but now the black ship’s crew formed grapples of animate bone and sinew. Before long, the sun was threatening to slip under the horizon. Fighting the undead under torchlight was not a palatable option. Ceileidh ordered everyone but the Reapers to man the oars in a last-ditch attempt to pull away from the black ship.
As the oars hit the water, pulling us slowly away from the gaping maw of the black ship, the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared and night ruled Skia Thalassa again. From deep inside the ship, something let out a long, low howl, and then my men began to fall. A shape with a white face clamped onto Tenenan, and he was dead before he hit the floor. The Drowned Men continued coming as their master passed through my Tall Reapers. I cannot remember his features, only the White, and triune claw tattoo of the Three Mothers on it’s brow, but I can conjure the chill in my bones I felt when I faced him. It was only luck I did not die by the White's touch as the rest of the Reaper's did. If Ioan hadn't buried his axe in the White's brow, he might not have thrown me overboard, but he did, and so I live where the rest of 'Queen's Protector's' crew died. As it is I’m not the warrior I once was. That thing stole some of my soul from me.
But how did I survive the fall? Even if I hadn't been unconscious, I was terribly weak after the White's attack. I do not know if it was merfolk or a final spell from Ceileidh, but when I woke, I was on the very merchant ship we had saved. They managed to get away from the crippled black ship as it fought the Protector. They found me on their deck the next morning. I don't know what saved me, but I'm glad that I have another chance at life, even if I feel like I'm half the man I was a year ago. It took me six months to get back on my feet, and I've been doing some easy guard work to get some of my strength back, but now I'm striking out on my own. It's not that I don't want to work for Rotting Curran anymore, but I need to avenge my fallen Reapers, and Curran understands that. I don't know if I'll ever feel whole again, but killing the White would go a long way toward quieting the voices.
Monkey Man
First Post
ADVENTURE 1
Adventure 1: Sailing, Sailing…
Our adventure began on the Dekkalfar ship, the Gunnlod, captained by the Dekkalfar woman, Solveig. The boat is a smallish stout Knorr, which the Alfar are so fond of sailing. My name is Makar Gideon, and I am a human sorcerer. I wonder as to whether or not I’ll be alive to finish this tale, when all is said and done.
I was below deck, along with the other passengers making the trip from the Alfar island of Ainthorpe to the city of Ulvorsi, across the Inner Sea. I had made some small talk with the others, but only knew one of them, Malcolm, from previous meetings. Malcolm is a Cimbri fighting sailor who has crossed my path a time or two. He seems like he would be helpful in a fight. The two other passengers were interesting. One, Theon, was apparently a Paladin of Logos. What he was doing on this boat I’m not sure. I don’t know which Logosian saint he follows, but he seems an all right sort of fellow. He doesn’t scowl at the Alfar, as some of the more religious types are want to do. The other passenger is a Lizard man, named Copoc Kitzam. He is interesting. I haven’t really met too many lizard folk. Usually they keep to themselves. Copoc is fairly outgoing and friendly, although he’s hard to understand sometimes, what with the hissing and such.
We found ourselves being tossed around in the same squall that we had been in for a couple of days. To Malcolm and myself it was no big deal. We are seasoned sailors. The Paladin and the Lizard, however, were a different matter. Copoc seemed to be a darker shade of green than when we started off. No one was getting much sleep. At some point, I heard a strange “Thump” come from up on deck. Having nothing better to do, I poked my head up through the hole. Malcolm went to the hole towards the stem of the boat and also looked out. Through the driving rain and pound wind, I didn’t see anything amiss at first. I saw the Hippogryph that was Theon’s mount chained to the same spot that he had been throughout the trip.
Malcolm shouted, “Hey! There’s some grappling hooks stuck to the side of the boat! We’re being boarded!”
I looked to where he was pointing, and then I saw them. Sure enough, some Rolgulkan Orcs were crawling over the side of the boat. The other passengers were springing into action. Theon bounded past Malcolm up to the deck and struck out at the first Orc he came to. He dealt it a mighty blow. Copoc and Malcolm also came up to the deck and started in on the Orcs. I came up on the deck and looked over the side. Unfortunately, what I saw was not too comforting. A jumbled up raft, made of anything the orcs could throw together, was stuck fast to our ship via the grapping hooks. Their raft was held afloat by anything they could use, including rotting corpses. The fact that they managed to navigate such a vessal in this storm was truly astonishing. The most disturbing thing on the raft, however, was the demonesque looking ogre who appeared to be leading the pirates. He was big, winged, and looked real mean. He was shouting to the orcs in Rolgulkan that they had better kill us all, or he would have their skins…literally.
Thinking that discretion would be the better part of valor, and then realizing that I never actually listened to myself when I had that thought, I let loose with a mighty Lightning Bolt at the Ogre and three of his orc minions. The orcs were toasted, but to my chagrin I saw that the Ogre seemed to take no damage at all. He did take notice of me, however, and flew up towards me. He pulled out this big-assed war ax kind of thing and struck me with it. It hurt like hell, and I thought I was done for. Blood was spouting out of my wound far too freely.
The others dispatched with the remaining orcs pretty easily, but the Ogre was a different matter. Theon freed his Hippogryph and sprung onto it’s back. He rode it up towards the flying Ogre and engaged him. Unfortunately, the results of this were that Theon was flung into the foamy sea. Malcolm and Copoc did their best, but to not much effect. Being near unto death, I dove back down the hatch to try to recover. Unfortunately, the Ogre cast a darkness spell on the lone remaining Orc and threw him down the hatch with me. I was in utter darkness! I could hear the fight continue up on deck.
The ogre flew down the other hatch and slaughtered one of the ships hands. The other passengers followed him down, and continued to hack away at him. Finally, Malcolm delivered a killing blow on the creature. As soon as he died, he lost his demonic trappings and returned to being a normal Ogre, Malcolm made sure he was dead. After a while, the darkness stopped, and the remaining orc, named Boris, was our prisoner. Solveig was most angry, especially when we found that the pirates had already killed all but one of her crew, including her two nephews, before we knew that they were boarding us. Boris was spared instant death only because Solveig would need his help in sailing the Gunnlod back to port. Solveig gave him the choice of dying instantly now, or facing the judgment of her people later. Not being a complete dolt, Boris chose to remain in servitude.
We all noticed that Boris seemed to be underfed, and not too steady on his feet. We questioned him on what he and his shipmates were about in attacking us. He told us that the ship that he was from had been wrecked on an island not too far from here. He said that a letter that the Ogre, who was named Marsuz, might explain more. We retrieved the scroll case that the letter was in. I detected magic on it, and Theon detected that it was evil. After some discussion, we decided to go ahead and have the orc open it. A vial, containing a potion known as Demon’s Breath fell out. This is what was radiating the evil magic. Boris told us that this type of potion was what turned Marsuz into the demonic being he was. Theon took hold of the vial, and after ignoring some discussion of how valuable it was, tossed the vial overboard.
I then read the enclosed letter:
To the Most Terrible Lady Abashag,
Unless you want your cargo delivered in the bellies of my crew, you need to send us some help. We are trapped on Wodlaw’s Isle by an ljosalfar ghost. It scuttled the Merkansk in the shallow bay of the isle and slays any who approach the hulk. I cannot repair my ship or send a large enough force against the ghost to kill it. Wodlaw is sticking by the letter of our agreement and will not lend a hand to our cause, although he is beginning to eye us greedily – he has already gorged himself on the food we brought him.
This began a fortnight ago we attempted to board the same small craft to collect a tribute to the Three Mothers. When its ljosalfar crew resisted, I had my men fire poisoned arrows at the crew. While the arrows found their mark, the craft still eluded me and we were unable to board her. The next night we stopped at one of the larder isles, but as some others and I were ashore to gather water, the little craft, now piloted by the crew’s ghosts, attacked. The ghost on board shot a cone of ice at the bows of our ship and it rent a hole below the waterline. Still Marsuz threw a great stone into the attacking boat and it sunk. The next night it was back from the grave again though, driving my crew from our repairs!
Now we out of supplies are down to eating the goblins, but I am afraid that the desperate situation means that I may be forced to harm the slaves you asked me to deliver to the Porphyry House in Kostelna.
Your priestess Firtha’s magic is not great enough to oppose it. She agreed with me that our only hope to complete delivery to the Porphyry House would be to contact you and trust to your overwhelming might. I dispatched three sets of my crew in hopes that some could make it to you and you could bring aid sufficient enough to stop the ghost. I offer the bearers of this message in sacrifice to you as partial payment for your attention. (Although I humbly ask that you might spare the ogre Marsuz, as he is a great asset to our efforts.)
Hail the three mothers,
Miklos
Captain of the Merkansk
Boris enlightened us on some of the questions we had. Wodlaw is a giant who lives on this island. He will usually deal with any travelers by taking tribute in order to get some of his fresh water. The tribute usually includes food, or a couple of crewmembers for food, or both. The slaves the Rolgulkans were carrying were bought from a human dealer, which raised some questions amongst us. Kostelna, where the ship was headed, is a rogulkan city, where many human infidels go to hide. It is supposedly a city with no rules, where anything is available for a price. Abashag, who the letter was addressed to, was apparently a daughter of one of the Three Mothers, who are hags who control a great deal of ships. This Abashag is apparently a powerful being, perhaps a sea hag of some type, who the Rolgulkans believe has power enough to destroy this ghost that is keeping them trapped on the island.
After some discussion, we decided to head for the island. Theon was all for rescuing the slaves. I thought there might be something else of value that we could acquire. After some hesitation, Malcolm agreed to the effort. Theon flew up and scouted for the island, and Solveig followed as best she could. Luckily the storm abetted so that we could travel. When we arrived at Wodlaw’s island, Copoc, who is a Shaman, attempted to speak to the spirit of the island. After hissing out some mumbo jumbo, he informed us that he was unable to make contact with it. Theon found the most secluded spot and we disembarked there. The four of us headed up a hill. Malcolm, who was scouting ahead, spotted two sleeping orcs, with another standing guard. He also saw, further beyond the orcs, a Dire wolf guarding a cave entrance. We assumed that this is where Wodlaw the giant resides. The orcs were far enough away from the Dire wolf that we thought we could kill them with out notice. This we quickly did. Copoc then tried to speak with the spirit of the cave. After more reptilian mumbo jumbo, he informed us that once again he was unable to make contact with the spirit. The rest of us looked at him and started to have some questions as to his competence as a lizard of the spirits. He assured us he was able to talk to them, but that perhaps our presence was disrupting his abilities.
We headed down a trail away from the wolf, to try and find the camp of the orcs. We heard an alarm sound ahead of us, and realized that we had been spotted. The orcs were coming our way. I used my Alter Self spell to turn myself into an orc, and ran back towards the cave entrance. With Malcolm hidden behind me, I berated the Dire Wolf, and we both fired arrows at it. Copoc and Theon hid behind us. The plan was to get the wolf and possibly the giant to attack the Orcs who were coming up the trail. The Wolf howled in pain and charged me…
End Adventure 1
Adventure 1: Sailing, Sailing…
Our adventure began on the Dekkalfar ship, the Gunnlod, captained by the Dekkalfar woman, Solveig. The boat is a smallish stout Knorr, which the Alfar are so fond of sailing. My name is Makar Gideon, and I am a human sorcerer. I wonder as to whether or not I’ll be alive to finish this tale, when all is said and done.
I was below deck, along with the other passengers making the trip from the Alfar island of Ainthorpe to the city of Ulvorsi, across the Inner Sea. I had made some small talk with the others, but only knew one of them, Malcolm, from previous meetings. Malcolm is a Cimbri fighting sailor who has crossed my path a time or two. He seems like he would be helpful in a fight. The two other passengers were interesting. One, Theon, was apparently a Paladin of Logos. What he was doing on this boat I’m not sure. I don’t know which Logosian saint he follows, but he seems an all right sort of fellow. He doesn’t scowl at the Alfar, as some of the more religious types are want to do. The other passenger is a Lizard man, named Copoc Kitzam. He is interesting. I haven’t really met too many lizard folk. Usually they keep to themselves. Copoc is fairly outgoing and friendly, although he’s hard to understand sometimes, what with the hissing and such.
We found ourselves being tossed around in the same squall that we had been in for a couple of days. To Malcolm and myself it was no big deal. We are seasoned sailors. The Paladin and the Lizard, however, were a different matter. Copoc seemed to be a darker shade of green than when we started off. No one was getting much sleep. At some point, I heard a strange “Thump” come from up on deck. Having nothing better to do, I poked my head up through the hole. Malcolm went to the hole towards the stem of the boat and also looked out. Through the driving rain and pound wind, I didn’t see anything amiss at first. I saw the Hippogryph that was Theon’s mount chained to the same spot that he had been throughout the trip.
Malcolm shouted, “Hey! There’s some grappling hooks stuck to the side of the boat! We’re being boarded!”
I looked to where he was pointing, and then I saw them. Sure enough, some Rolgulkan Orcs were crawling over the side of the boat. The other passengers were springing into action. Theon bounded past Malcolm up to the deck and struck out at the first Orc he came to. He dealt it a mighty blow. Copoc and Malcolm also came up to the deck and started in on the Orcs. I came up on the deck and looked over the side. Unfortunately, what I saw was not too comforting. A jumbled up raft, made of anything the orcs could throw together, was stuck fast to our ship via the grapping hooks. Their raft was held afloat by anything they could use, including rotting corpses. The fact that they managed to navigate such a vessal in this storm was truly astonishing. The most disturbing thing on the raft, however, was the demonesque looking ogre who appeared to be leading the pirates. He was big, winged, and looked real mean. He was shouting to the orcs in Rolgulkan that they had better kill us all, or he would have their skins…literally.
Thinking that discretion would be the better part of valor, and then realizing that I never actually listened to myself when I had that thought, I let loose with a mighty Lightning Bolt at the Ogre and three of his orc minions. The orcs were toasted, but to my chagrin I saw that the Ogre seemed to take no damage at all. He did take notice of me, however, and flew up towards me. He pulled out this big-assed war ax kind of thing and struck me with it. It hurt like hell, and I thought I was done for. Blood was spouting out of my wound far too freely.
The others dispatched with the remaining orcs pretty easily, but the Ogre was a different matter. Theon freed his Hippogryph and sprung onto it’s back. He rode it up towards the flying Ogre and engaged him. Unfortunately, the results of this were that Theon was flung into the foamy sea. Malcolm and Copoc did their best, but to not much effect. Being near unto death, I dove back down the hatch to try to recover. Unfortunately, the Ogre cast a darkness spell on the lone remaining Orc and threw him down the hatch with me. I was in utter darkness! I could hear the fight continue up on deck.
The ogre flew down the other hatch and slaughtered one of the ships hands. The other passengers followed him down, and continued to hack away at him. Finally, Malcolm delivered a killing blow on the creature. As soon as he died, he lost his demonic trappings and returned to being a normal Ogre, Malcolm made sure he was dead. After a while, the darkness stopped, and the remaining orc, named Boris, was our prisoner. Solveig was most angry, especially when we found that the pirates had already killed all but one of her crew, including her two nephews, before we knew that they were boarding us. Boris was spared instant death only because Solveig would need his help in sailing the Gunnlod back to port. Solveig gave him the choice of dying instantly now, or facing the judgment of her people later. Not being a complete dolt, Boris chose to remain in servitude.
We all noticed that Boris seemed to be underfed, and not too steady on his feet. We questioned him on what he and his shipmates were about in attacking us. He told us that the ship that he was from had been wrecked on an island not too far from here. He said that a letter that the Ogre, who was named Marsuz, might explain more. We retrieved the scroll case that the letter was in. I detected magic on it, and Theon detected that it was evil. After some discussion, we decided to go ahead and have the orc open it. A vial, containing a potion known as Demon’s Breath fell out. This is what was radiating the evil magic. Boris told us that this type of potion was what turned Marsuz into the demonic being he was. Theon took hold of the vial, and after ignoring some discussion of how valuable it was, tossed the vial overboard.
I then read the enclosed letter:
To the Most Terrible Lady Abashag,
Unless you want your cargo delivered in the bellies of my crew, you need to send us some help. We are trapped on Wodlaw’s Isle by an ljosalfar ghost. It scuttled the Merkansk in the shallow bay of the isle and slays any who approach the hulk. I cannot repair my ship or send a large enough force against the ghost to kill it. Wodlaw is sticking by the letter of our agreement and will not lend a hand to our cause, although he is beginning to eye us greedily – he has already gorged himself on the food we brought him.
This began a fortnight ago we attempted to board the same small craft to collect a tribute to the Three Mothers. When its ljosalfar crew resisted, I had my men fire poisoned arrows at the crew. While the arrows found their mark, the craft still eluded me and we were unable to board her. The next night we stopped at one of the larder isles, but as some others and I were ashore to gather water, the little craft, now piloted by the crew’s ghosts, attacked. The ghost on board shot a cone of ice at the bows of our ship and it rent a hole below the waterline. Still Marsuz threw a great stone into the attacking boat and it sunk. The next night it was back from the grave again though, driving my crew from our repairs!
Now we out of supplies are down to eating the goblins, but I am afraid that the desperate situation means that I may be forced to harm the slaves you asked me to deliver to the Porphyry House in Kostelna.
Your priestess Firtha’s magic is not great enough to oppose it. She agreed with me that our only hope to complete delivery to the Porphyry House would be to contact you and trust to your overwhelming might. I dispatched three sets of my crew in hopes that some could make it to you and you could bring aid sufficient enough to stop the ghost. I offer the bearers of this message in sacrifice to you as partial payment for your attention. (Although I humbly ask that you might spare the ogre Marsuz, as he is a great asset to our efforts.)
Hail the three mothers,
Miklos
Captain of the Merkansk
Boris enlightened us on some of the questions we had. Wodlaw is a giant who lives on this island. He will usually deal with any travelers by taking tribute in order to get some of his fresh water. The tribute usually includes food, or a couple of crewmembers for food, or both. The slaves the Rolgulkans were carrying were bought from a human dealer, which raised some questions amongst us. Kostelna, where the ship was headed, is a rogulkan city, where many human infidels go to hide. It is supposedly a city with no rules, where anything is available for a price. Abashag, who the letter was addressed to, was apparently a daughter of one of the Three Mothers, who are hags who control a great deal of ships. This Abashag is apparently a powerful being, perhaps a sea hag of some type, who the Rolgulkans believe has power enough to destroy this ghost that is keeping them trapped on the island.
After some discussion, we decided to head for the island. Theon was all for rescuing the slaves. I thought there might be something else of value that we could acquire. After some hesitation, Malcolm agreed to the effort. Theon flew up and scouted for the island, and Solveig followed as best she could. Luckily the storm abetted so that we could travel. When we arrived at Wodlaw’s island, Copoc, who is a Shaman, attempted to speak to the spirit of the island. After hissing out some mumbo jumbo, he informed us that he was unable to make contact with it. Theon found the most secluded spot and we disembarked there. The four of us headed up a hill. Malcolm, who was scouting ahead, spotted two sleeping orcs, with another standing guard. He also saw, further beyond the orcs, a Dire wolf guarding a cave entrance. We assumed that this is where Wodlaw the giant resides. The orcs were far enough away from the Dire wolf that we thought we could kill them with out notice. This we quickly did. Copoc then tried to speak with the spirit of the cave. After more reptilian mumbo jumbo, he informed us that once again he was unable to make contact with the spirit. The rest of us looked at him and started to have some questions as to his competence as a lizard of the spirits. He assured us he was able to talk to them, but that perhaps our presence was disrupting his abilities.
We headed down a trail away from the wolf, to try and find the camp of the orcs. We heard an alarm sound ahead of us, and realized that we had been spotted. The orcs were coming our way. I used my Alter Self spell to turn myself into an orc, and ran back towards the cave entrance. With Malcolm hidden behind me, I berated the Dire Wolf, and we both fired arrows at it. Copoc and Theon hid behind us. The plan was to get the wolf and possibly the giant to attack the Orcs who were coming up the trail. The Wolf howled in pain and charged me…
End Adventure 1
Last edited:
CleverName
Explorer
Ancalagon said:aaaah, sweet sweet celtic intrigue, got to love it.
so you have a paladin, a sailor, a shaman and a sorcerer? Interesting mixI see the paladin was smart enough not to wear metal armor when he was thrown in the sea.
Ancalagon
Yes: paladin, fighter/rogue, shaman and sorcerer.
We're hoping our fifth player, Steve, will be able to bring his dwarf fighter into the game next month.
Yeah, after I went over the drowning rules, everyone bought light armor or decided to wear no armor on board ship. Funny that. The paladin bought two suits of armor, just in case.
Actually, Makar missed the Paladin's dunking. The ogre bull rushed the paladin and knocked him off his mount. He saved himself by plunging his pick into the side of the ship and hanging on until his hippogriff could pluck him out of the sea.
CleverName
Explorer
Round-Robin Storytelling
The players and I decided to try a new tactic in regards to the story hour. They are each going to take turns spinning a yarn for you. While this may lack some continuity, this should allow you to really get to know all the characters (and not lay too heavy a burden on one player).
Adventure 2 will be narrated by Malcom of the Vacomagi (Remi Truer). I'm dying to tell you some of the details, but I want to conserve the ammo for Remi. So, I won't explain: giant, blood, treachery, criticals, dice, fireballs, dire wolf, orcs, even more treachery, loot, goblin jerky, whup-ass, exploding skeletons, sacrifces to the Three Mothers, clandestine conversations, backstabbing lightning, and more magic missles than you can shake a stick at...
The players and I decided to try a new tactic in regards to the story hour. They are each going to take turns spinning a yarn for you. While this may lack some continuity, this should allow you to really get to know all the characters (and not lay too heavy a burden on one player).
Adventure 2 will be narrated by Malcom of the Vacomagi (Remi Truer). I'm dying to tell you some of the details, but I want to conserve the ammo for Remi. So, I won't explain: giant, blood, treachery, criticals, dice, fireballs, dire wolf, orcs, even more treachery, loot, goblin jerky, whup-ass, exploding skeletons, sacrifces to the Three Mothers, clandestine conversations, backstabbing lightning, and more magic missles than you can shake a stick at...
