Journal of Rusty Vainwander

quaidbrown

First Post
This is the setup for a campaign I'm running. The first page is a description of the village the party grew up in... Any ideas for expanding on these... ideas, would be greatly appreciated.

The party grew up in a mining community. They live in a village, known simply as Stone. Stone is centered on a large mine. The village is in the shadow of an immense black stone, almost a mountain. They've lived here their entire life, and have never left the walls of the village, save for a few jogs around the outside of the walls on a dare. Outside the walls, there is little vegetation, and the land is mostly barren. Inside the walls thrives a lush wonderland of orchards, vineyards, trees and flowers.

It never rains.

Most of the men of the village work in the mine. The women spend the day tending the gardens, making meals, or taking their turn to care for the children. Day and night, the black stones that line the walls of the mine are gathered and placed near the main village gate. Every three months, a caravan of strange, very tall and thin creatures wearing fanciful masks and cowls, come to the village. They are merchants and are known as “The Gnomes”. The stones are exchanged for water, and they leave.

Not much is known about the gnomes. Some speculate that the gnomes are protectors who take pity on the village, and bring water in exchange for the worthless black stones. Some think the gnomes are evil, and only help the village because they’re fattening it up for a giant feast. However, everybody agrees that the village’s fate is inextricably intertwined with the gnomes.

When a villager reaches a certain age, they are put before the gnomes when they arrive with the water. The merchants take the adolescent, blindfold them and take them into one of their wagons. The young man or woman either emerges with a strange tattoo on their chest, or they are never seen again. The gnomes also occasionally select a handful of the villagers to come with them. This is seen as a great honor, stemming from ancient traditions that nobody really remembers or understands. Nobody ever objects out loud. The tattoo, they say, has a calming effect, and once you have it, you understand your place in the universe, and life is better.

Nobody has successfully ventured very far out of the village. Those that wander too far are never seen again. Those that make it back never see anything interesting. Only children ever try to explore. The adults are more content inside the village walls. The running joke is that there must be something very nice out there, because those who find it choose not to return. The adults never laugh at that one.

Life is peaceful, though dull, with most of the time spent growing food and mining. Strange rituals have emerged, and many have been followed for longer than anybody remembers. For instance, everybody spends about 15 minutes per day standing near the enormous black stone, pressing their hands and face against it and meditating. This is done because if you don’t, you’ll grow horns or turn to stone, and there are a few old men who swear they’ve seen it happen.

This has been the way of life. Until recently.
 

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quaidbrown

First Post
One of the boys in the village has a book. He claims he found it in the Mayor's library, and if you're a pretty girl or one of his friends, he'll let you look at it. The party have all managed to get their hands on it at one time or another, and have read it with ravenous interest.

The Journal of Rusty Vainwander

Day 1: It would appear that I am alone. I awoke with no memory, in a ditch. This is a desert world, and I've found little vegetation or signs of life. I seem to have some skill in extracting water and pulp from the paltry roots and scrub weed that speckle the desert so I will survive for now. I don't recall where I learned these skills, but I am grateful for them now. Upon examining my possessions I discovered this book and decided to chronicle my experiences. Perhaps someone will find it and use it to discern the nature of this world. I for one am unable to offer any insight, only that it is barren, and I sense danger all around.


Inventory:
Backpack, green
Pants, Black, multiple pockets
Vest, black, very heavy, discarded
shirt, long sleeves, multiple pockets, dark green
Fingerless gloves, black
Widebrimmed hat, green
1 pair black boots
Journal, 500 blank pages (yes, I counted them)
5 writing sticks
Canteen: Empty
Hunting Knife, steel

I will begin by traveling north. Something tells me that it will be cooler in that direction.


Day 2: Much of the same. I’ve not seen anything of particular interest, unless you count burned trees, bones and shiny rocks. I make this entry mostly out of boredom. The days are long, and hot. The nights are long and cold. Last night I thought I heard movement, but didn’t see anything when I stood. I will begin concealing my campsites. I spent part of the day carving a crude spear from one of the tree husks. I am attempting to make a bow, but haven’t found anything suitable for string or fletching yet.

Day 3: I was attacked last night. I thank my foresight in crafting this spear. The beast that leapt upon me in the night impaled itself on it, but not before tearing into me with its enormous mandibles. It appears to be a giant beetle, and is a light rust-color. I don’t recall seeing anything like it in my life, but that’s nothing new. I don’t remember much of anything. Don’t worry about me, I think I’ll be alright. I used the sleeves from my shirt as a bandage. I’ll live.
I was able to remove one of its claws, and I managed to turn it into a spearhead. The headplate on the beast is currently serving as a shield. I’m beginning to look like a Blaxnoral warrior. What I wouldn’t give for a gextan. I’m going to spend a few more hours trying to make use of this corpse, then I’ll move along. I thought I heard a howl earlier. I’m afraid that whatever is out there will be drawn to the stench of death.

Inventory addition:
Claw-spear
Chitin buckler
Chitin club

Day 4: I was ambushed again last night. This time by three of the beasts. During the fight, my spear was broken. I pulled my hunting knife but when I stabbed, it became lodged in the beast’s chitin, and I lost it. What happened next saved my life. The other two beasts immediately pounced on their companion, tearing furiously at the blade. They seemed more interested in it than in me.

I ran.

I haven’t been bothered by the beasts since. As crazy as it seems, I think they were stalking my knife and not me. It was the most useful tool I had, and now it’s gone. Could they have known that I’ll probably die without it? Are they intelligent and evil at that level? I doubt it. I managed to escape with the chitin buckler and spearhead. I may be able to use the spear as a blade.


Day 8: Life has certainly become more difficult. It’s very hard to obtain enough water without the knife to dig and slice at roots. I’ve taken to preserving energy and resources by staying in one place. I set up a camp, and explore at night. I hope to save enough food and water to venture out again.

Day 17: I believe I have enough resources to begin traveling again for a few days. I set out tonight.

Day 18: After looking forward to traveling again, I’m beginning to wonder what I was thinking. It’s either too hot or too cold, and there’s not enough of anything. No wonder nobody lives in this god-forsaken place.

Day 20: I see mountains in the distance, I’m going to try to reach them.

Day 22: I saw a patrol today. I almost ran right up to them before I realized they weren’t human. Thankfully, they didn’t see me. They were bipedal, but their heads are elongated and bear gruesome fangs. There were four of them and they must be nearly blind for not seeing me. They were dragging a child behind them, and what looks like a dog. I will trail them, and see what I can learn.

Day 23: They set up camp about two miles from here. I am going to try to sneak in and rescue the child.

Day 24: I nearly died, again. I made it into the camp. The beast which should have been on watch was sleeping on a nearby boulder. I snuck in and found the child. There were a few blades made of obsidian lying near the fire. I took two of them, then moved toward the child. That’s when I saw the dog. It was looking at me from where it was bound, and wagging its tail furiously. They had a muzzle on it. I don’t know why, but I knew I had to rescue the dog as well. I cut his bindings, and he stayed at my side, never making a sound.

That’s more than I can say for the “child”. The moment I roused him he began screaming and I got a good look at him. He didn’t look like any child I had seen, more like a 3 foot tall man with wild hair and long claws. I had no choice but to run into the darkness. They pursued me for a while, but I eventually lost them. The dog’s name is Rusty. It’s good to finally have a friend.

Day 37: I haven’t been writing as often, mostly because Rusty has cheered me up, and I haven’t felt the need to write everything down. We’re making good progress to the North. Rusty has a knack for catching snakes, and he’s fed us on more than one night. Though I wish he’d find a rabbit or something, snakemeat beats the hell out of root scraps and dirt. Good boy.
Of note: On the second night with rusty, I noticed he was wearing a collar, with a silver finger-ring attached to it. I took it off the collar and had a closer look. It looks quite plain, but I’ll hold onto it.

Inventory additions:
Two obsidian blades
One silver ring
Snake-fang necklace (Thanks Rusty)

Day 38: We’ve finally reached the foot of the mountains. They were much further off than they looked, but at least it’s cool here. Up close, they don’t look very promising. They’re really nothing more than a giant slab of dead-black stone. I don’t think there’s anything living up there, at least nothing that I’d want to meet. I can make out a few caves and what looks like foot trails, but I don’t plan on climbing up there. The closer we get to the mountains, the more of those patrols we see. Always four strong. I don’t know what they’re doing out here, but they can’t be up to any good. We’ll follow the mountains east, maybe we can find a pass.

Day 50: We reached the ocean today. At least, I call it an ocean because it’s not desert and not land. I think it’s a sea of silt… I’ve come to expect such things from this place. We can follow the beachline north around the mountains. At least it’s something new.

Day 51: Well, we found the nastiest, evilest thing we’ve seen yet. I don’t know what it is, but I’m calling it a BoneBeast. It was enormous. It looked like a skeletal raxonar, at first. I wanted to run, but it was still pretty far away, and the most interesting thing I’ve seen in a while, so I followed it. With horror, I realized the thing is made completely of bones, and I think I recognize some human skulls in there. It’s plodding slowly in a straight line… I don’t know what it’s doing.
Later: We saw it dig a hole 100 feet deep in about 2 minutes. I couldn’t imagine what it was doing, but then it stopped and began plucking corpses out of the ground. Human corpses. It tossed the bones onto its back, where they rolled and slid onto bare spots on its body. It was the damndest thing I’ve ever seen. Almost magical… It must have uncovered a graveyard, because it spent the better part of an hour making itself larger with human bones. When it was done, it just started lumbering off again.

We have bones. I don’t think we’re going to follow it anymore.

Day 65: We encountered the ruins of an ancient city today. There are no signs of any living humans, though it is obvious that their civilization was a large one. Most of it is buried by sand dunes, but we have found several dozen corpses, and their arrangments are most peculiar. We saw a BoneBeast heading this way (and I’m pretty sure it’s not the same one, so there are at least two), so we can’t stay long. Many of the bodies are still seated in large metal boxes, or what is left of the metal boxes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the metal was consumed by the rust-colored beasts I saw on my first couple of nights. Rust colored. That’s probably not a coincidence…

Anyway, the corpses are seated in rows, and show no signs of being restrained, in large boxes. It looks they were mostly steel, at one point, but that is missing and evidenced only by piles of rust powder around the edges of the structure. I assume that they entered the boxes willingly, or were forced into them by some unknown evil. None of the buildings remain standing, as the steel foundations have also been consumed by RustBeasts, causing them to collapse.
We dare not stay here long. I can already hear the wicked clacking of the BoneBeast, and night begins to fall. I will retreat to the desert and investigate again tomorrow."

Day 66:
"I was ambushed last night by some strange men. At first I was overjoyed to see humans again, but realized I’d once again been fooled by the strange creatures I encountered on those first nights. I was warned of their presence by Rusty... I have no idea how they detected me. They didn’t see us at first, but they all froze when they got near and looked right at me. I've become quite adept at hiding my presence in the desert from the creatures which inhabit it, but these beasts came right to me. I assume they were tracking me from that first night. I’m such a fool to not have suspected it. This is the first night that we slowed our pace, to investigate the city. It gave them time to catch up. What persistent nagmas they are.

If Rusty had not nuzzled me in warning, I would not have had time to escape. Rusty took a spear to the hind leg, and I couldn’t save him. That dog saved my life again, and I’ll be damned if I don’t try to save his. They kept him alive once, I hope they will do so again.

Day 68: I’ve got Rusty back. It turns out BoneBeasts go for the nearest bones they see, and ignore the rest. I loaded up a small abandoned wagon with human bones, and damned if the thing didn’t follow me. I had to toss a few skulls out to slow it down, but it worked. I thought I would die of exhaustion before we finally made it to their camp. I threw the last of the skulls right into their camp and then made sure my bones weren’t closest to the beast. For as big as that thing is, it can move very fast.
They tried to fight it, and one of them must have had a gextan because I saw a lot of bright flashes and heard explosions. But, as it turns out that BoneBeasts don’t really care if the bones are being used by someone else or not. They got tossed in with the rest and were ripped apart by the shifting mass of its body.

I managed to grab Rusty and run. He was mighty thirsty, but he’s alive. I didn’t see any sign of the beast-boy that gave me away last time. I think the BoneBeast tried to follow us, but got distracted by the city. I can’t imagine how big it’s going to be when it’s done with that place.


Day 70: Something’s wrong with Rusty. He doesn’t have much energy, he’s got a limp and he whines a lot. I don’t know what to do.

Day 71: Rusty’s dead.

Day 100 (or so): I haven’t done much exploring lately. I don’t see the point. I found a hollow in the ground that’s cool and shaded, and this is as good a place as any. I’ve seen a few more of those BeastMen wandering around, and I’d like nothing more than to kill them all. I saw a dock in the abandonded city. I may try to sail the Sea of Silt. There appears to be an island in the distance. Maybe it’s safe there. Maybe I can go there to die.


Day 120: I made it to the island. I brought Rusty’s body and threw it into the sea. I hope the BoneBeasts can’t find it there. This island doesn’t look very promising. It’s very large, probably 20 miles across, but it doesn’t look much different than the mainland.

Day 121: I found a road. It looks like wagon tracks. I’m going to follow it.

Day 123: The road led to a village. I never thought I could be so happy again. There are people here, humans! Their village is surrounded by a high stone wall, but their gate was unguarded. There is an enormous boulder at the edge that forms part of their wall. When I saw enormous, I mean really nagman huge. The thing casts a shadow a mile long at noon. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the mainland. Inside, there were trees, bushes and I swear I saw dew on a lily. I don’t know how this place exists, but I was glad to find it. They fed me a hot meal, mostly vegetables but it was very good, though it doesn’t match Rusty’s Viper Surprise. The people here speak my language, but they speak it strangely. We can communicate, but they seem terrified of me. They keep mentioning the Gnomes, and asking if I was sent by the Gnomes. I don’t know what a gnome is, but it seems to have a grip on these people. Maybe it’s their god, or something. The village council is convening to decide what to do with me. I told them my name is Rusty Vainwander. It hadn’t occurred to me before now that I don’t know my name. Rusty’s name came to mind when they asked, and Vainwander pretty well describes what I’ve been doing up until now. Hopefully that changes.

Day 124: The council took an entire day to decide that I have to leave. They say the Gnomes will be displeased if I am here when they arrive. Usually gods don’t appear in person, so these gnomes are probably real. I managed to find out that the Gnomes arrive via the path that I found, once for each season. These people are strange. Some of the more curious children came to ask me questions. I don’t think any of them have ever left the village. They don’t know anything except that they live here, the Gnomes bring them water in exchange for the black stones that they mine from the ground in the center of town, and that they shouldn’t leave. I’m going to leave my journal on one of these shelves. Maybe someone will read it and get curious enough to leave. Though it is a pretty bleak story, it might just make them want to stay inside all the more. I’m “borrowing” a blank journal I found to continue my log, and leaving this one. It’s a fair trade.

I set out to find the Gnomes tomorrow.
 

Drazulfel

First Post
Held my attention all the way through! Nice writing style, and excellent presentation. I love the journal format. Really helps you to see through the eyes of the narrator.
 


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