Hey guys been trolling the boards for quite some time now. Thought I would go ahead and register. Right now I am running a homebrew campaign that is grim and gritty and action packed. This campaign is a total experiment. We are 8 sessions in and I love it! Most of the time I am so anal about world building and adventure planning when something goes unplanned(always) I lose intrest and such. This time I losely built the world did not make copius maps, detailed histories, cultural intrests, and adventure sites. Instead I have let the pc's help me build this as we have went. It's turning out awesome. I will post the character intro's and such in the next couple days. I will post Thorn first.
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The darkness in us all
- Thread starter thejc
- Start date
Thorn
He turned left. So did the two following him. Thorn could have killed them easily. He could tell by the way walked they were nothing more than thugs taught to use a blade in the most rudimentary fashion. Still he could not take them down yet. He had to determine who exactly was following him. The list had become quite long these days. As he headed to the market place he noticed another pair emerge opposite of him. He paused and bought some fruit. Both sets of goons hung back but their sword hands were quite twitchy. This told him quite a bit. He checked down the list. The “Brother’s” would never come in force like this, not their style. This profile did not sit quite with the local rogues guild either, besides he had not done anything to rouse their ire quite yet. They bore no official tabards. So that in turn ruled out the many nobles he had wronged on his way here. Such brutish men and straightforward tactics, yet they respect for the appearance of “justice” really left only one person. Inquisitor Stormwright.
Thorn was a nightouched. He was oppressed by an ancient spirit. Once he went to a priest for confession. Three days later the priest was taken in on charges of witchcraft and “purified”. The power hungry inquisitor had dogged him ever since, though he thought he had lost them when he crossed into the Realm of the Griffon. But they had found him out. Through magic no doubt. It was time to put this charade to an end they were obviously steering him towards the back alleys of the Temple district. 3 quick turns, a stray dog and a stolen cloak later he passed right by his would be trackers. Once out of sight he took to the roof tops and followed the thugs until they gave up their search.
As he suspected the thugs headed towards the temples. They wheeled in behind a temple to Rojester a god of light and peace. How very fitting. The thugs stopped and an armored figure came from the back door. Thorn wasted no time. He dropped down right as their leader was giving them a very violent reprimand. Landing in a crouch he stood drawing his hand and a half sword and buckler. The leader came to the front of the pack. “You” he spat. Thorn dropped his head in anticipation to the rant that would inevitably come. “I am the Malleus Brant Heldegon. You are hereby charged with practicing the dark craft, murder, and possessing a spirit. For this charges you shall gain absolution through pain, and penatance upon death. By the authority given to me by the Imperial Church you are to return for inquisition.” Thorn chuckled aloud. “I am sorry my friend but that is not the path for me. It seems I need to send Stormwright a message. You sir shall be left without any hands, feet, or eyes. And you shall tell your superiors the horror of what you witness today. Look upon the sky for it is the last time you shall see it.” Thorn settled into his stance. He steadied his breathing. The other was coming he could not stop him now. He hated this. Best try to end this quick before he took over.
The first one charged. Thorn went into a back handspring and kicked the man in the chin. Completing the acrobatic he sprung sideways and slashed the second. His sword took the man’s insides with him as he went. Three Imperial guards circled in behind Thorn from the front streets. This Malleus was not entirely stupid. The next two charged in. One lost his head the other his sword arm. The Imperialists waded in much slower flanking him. Thorn felt the dreadful shove in which the other took over. He was now forced to watch like some sick drama in which his own body was the star performer. Thorn’s eyes went black, his teeth sharpened. His muscled elongated, and his visage became feral-like. The first guard charged in low, the now possessed Thorn dropped his buckler and took a two hand chop that split him from skull to groin. The next met his end with a vicious lunge that pierced shield, armor, bone, and heart. Thorn wheeled and threw the sword taking the last guard in the throat pinning him to the temple wall. That left the Malleus.
The Malleus raised his war hammer and cried out. “By Imperial Authority of the Soverign Emperor Constantine the VIIIth I cast thee away foul spirit.” Thorn felt a violent tug as he was drug back into control of his body. It took him a second to regain command of his limbs. He felt the The Malleus’s fist grab him by the scruff of his neck. “Now boy we leave!” He lifted his hammer for a knockout blow. “Foolish.” Thorn half whispered as a tekko-kagi exploded from his gauntlet on his right hand. He sunk it to the knuckles in to the Malleus’s stomach, piercing his spine. The Malleus fell paralyzed his eyes wide with terror as Thorn drew some healing potions from his pack then set about his work like an efficient butcher.
He turned left. So did the two following him. Thorn could have killed them easily. He could tell by the way walked they were nothing more than thugs taught to use a blade in the most rudimentary fashion. Still he could not take them down yet. He had to determine who exactly was following him. The list had become quite long these days. As he headed to the market place he noticed another pair emerge opposite of him. He paused and bought some fruit. Both sets of goons hung back but their sword hands were quite twitchy. This told him quite a bit. He checked down the list. The “Brother’s” would never come in force like this, not their style. This profile did not sit quite with the local rogues guild either, besides he had not done anything to rouse their ire quite yet. They bore no official tabards. So that in turn ruled out the many nobles he had wronged on his way here. Such brutish men and straightforward tactics, yet they respect for the appearance of “justice” really left only one person. Inquisitor Stormwright.
Thorn was a nightouched. He was oppressed by an ancient spirit. Once he went to a priest for confession. Three days later the priest was taken in on charges of witchcraft and “purified”. The power hungry inquisitor had dogged him ever since, though he thought he had lost them when he crossed into the Realm of the Griffon. But they had found him out. Through magic no doubt. It was time to put this charade to an end they were obviously steering him towards the back alleys of the Temple district. 3 quick turns, a stray dog and a stolen cloak later he passed right by his would be trackers. Once out of sight he took to the roof tops and followed the thugs until they gave up their search.
As he suspected the thugs headed towards the temples. They wheeled in behind a temple to Rojester a god of light and peace. How very fitting. The thugs stopped and an armored figure came from the back door. Thorn wasted no time. He dropped down right as their leader was giving them a very violent reprimand. Landing in a crouch he stood drawing his hand and a half sword and buckler. The leader came to the front of the pack. “You” he spat. Thorn dropped his head in anticipation to the rant that would inevitably come. “I am the Malleus Brant Heldegon. You are hereby charged with practicing the dark craft, murder, and possessing a spirit. For this charges you shall gain absolution through pain, and penatance upon death. By the authority given to me by the Imperial Church you are to return for inquisition.” Thorn chuckled aloud. “I am sorry my friend but that is not the path for me. It seems I need to send Stormwright a message. You sir shall be left without any hands, feet, or eyes. And you shall tell your superiors the horror of what you witness today. Look upon the sky for it is the last time you shall see it.” Thorn settled into his stance. He steadied his breathing. The other was coming he could not stop him now. He hated this. Best try to end this quick before he took over.
The first one charged. Thorn went into a back handspring and kicked the man in the chin. Completing the acrobatic he sprung sideways and slashed the second. His sword took the man’s insides with him as he went. Three Imperial guards circled in behind Thorn from the front streets. This Malleus was not entirely stupid. The next two charged in. One lost his head the other his sword arm. The Imperialists waded in much slower flanking him. Thorn felt the dreadful shove in which the other took over. He was now forced to watch like some sick drama in which his own body was the star performer. Thorn’s eyes went black, his teeth sharpened. His muscled elongated, and his visage became feral-like. The first guard charged in low, the now possessed Thorn dropped his buckler and took a two hand chop that split him from skull to groin. The next met his end with a vicious lunge that pierced shield, armor, bone, and heart. Thorn wheeled and threw the sword taking the last guard in the throat pinning him to the temple wall. That left the Malleus.
The Malleus raised his war hammer and cried out. “By Imperial Authority of the Soverign Emperor Constantine the VIIIth I cast thee away foul spirit.” Thorn felt a violent tug as he was drug back into control of his body. It took him a second to regain command of his limbs. He felt the The Malleus’s fist grab him by the scruff of his neck. “Now boy we leave!” He lifted his hammer for a knockout blow. “Foolish.” Thorn half whispered as a tekko-kagi exploded from his gauntlet on his right hand. He sunk it to the knuckles in to the Malleus’s stomach, piercing his spine. The Malleus fell paralyzed his eyes wide with terror as Thorn drew some healing potions from his pack then set about his work like an efficient butcher.
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The latch clicked over, and the August turned to about and glared at the bowman. “Why are we breaking into this tower again?” Even through the whisper you could hear the disgust in his tone. The bowman shrugged “We went over this already. A: We are broke and if we are successful in this adventure, it may line our pockets for months. B: The townspeople said this tower has been abandoned for years.” He said very matter of fact. August put away his tools and adjusted his armor a bit “Soooo we are robbing the place?” he started. Titus cut him off “No! Everyone knows that abandoned towers always attract a dark element. You know grave robbing necromancers, evil cults, other planar beings of malign nature, circus folk, power mad bandits and their ilk. So we sweep the tower make a little change, become local hero’s. Then we move onto the next job.” August face contorted in confusion. “How does walking through an empty building make us heroes?” he asked. Titus looked rather thoughtful as he began his retort but was cut short as August raised his hand. “Forget it I don’t want to know, let’s just get this over with.”
The two would be heroes moved into the tower. Swept the main floor found nothing until they breached the study. The sight was obviously one for dark magic, though empty, the site still filled the duo with dread. Weapons sprang into hands and they crept in. A circle was scribed into the floor. Several books had been used for fuel for a fire long since extinguished. August and Titus replaced their weapons and searched for clues. Titus found a journal on the desk. He beckoned August to his side. “Can you make anything of this Auggie?” August looked over the exposed pages but was careful not to touch. He shook his head “It is a language unfamiliar to me. But these characters are of religious font here. The one for blood, this one is darkness and the omen letter or soon will pass.” He stared hard at the book. Titus put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gone, use the breast plate.” Augusts’ eyes welled up for a second, then he shook back the tears and threw back his tabard revealing an engraved face of a roaring Lion on his armor. “OS OF SANCTUS” he exclaimed the eyes of the engraving flared white for a moment. August flipped the book to the front binding and his lip curled in disgust as he saw the holy symbol. “Damnation” he snarled. “What is it, a spell book, oh wait an evil book that sucks in unsuspecting victims, or a book that grows big sharp teeth?” the bowman spewed from his mouth, eyes wide with wonder. August glared “Be serious! The book is neither magical in nature nor evil in itself. Whoever wrote the journal is a worshipper of Rallaster though.” Titus paused. “He is the deity of murder and torture?” August nodded. “Excellent!” Titus exclaimed as he threw the journal in his pack. August threw up his hands and left the room.
The rest of the tower yielded nothing until they started to the basement. Once past basement door and halfway down the stairs the door slammed shut. Ominous laughter wafted up from the darkness below. “Lovely” August sighed as he hung his head. Balefire torches sprung to life as they hit the ground floor bathing everything in a sickly green light. “Which one of you shall be my vassal when I take over your fleshly shell?” a gravelly voice boomed. There at the back of the room lay another circle of power and in its center stood a being well over 7 feet in a black cloak, and whose eyes glared red with hellfire. “I am the Strongman. I have been trapped in this basement for quite some time. This circle could not contain me but the conditions of my summoning were quite well inscribed. I could not shed the casters blood, could not use any of my magic, yet I needed physical body to leave this basement, but here I am whole. So who of you wishes to be my chosen? Is it you O fallen holy soldier. Stripped of you power by bureaucracy? Or you White Tower spawn?” Titus’ normal carefree demeanor changed to one of terror and anger. “What do you know of the cursed place?” Titus screamed, and quick as summer lightning fired two arrows. The Strongman dodged the first arrow and caught the second. He laughed before tossing it aside. “Nothing. Everything. Much more than you.” The being said coyly.
Again August exposed the Lion Shield. This time the breastplates eyes a blue light and Augusts’ own eyes flared the same topaz light. “Demon your time here ends! MORSUS ex UMBRA!” His war axe flared an angry blue as he charged hacking into the Strongman. The Demon screamed then projected to bolts of force taking both heroes off of their feet and pushed them into the wall. The Strongman summoned a wicked looking great axe that bled balefire. Titus’ bow thrummed pelting the demon with arrows. The Strongman ignored the archer as the arrows seemed to have little effect on the demon. August drew his short sword in addition to his war axe. They went from the blue light and shifted to a more gold hue. The “Fang and Claw” style in which August fought was awesome to watch. Titus even paused in his assault. The Strongman brought down a vicious overhand chop. August had to over extend to dodge it and then tried to counter much too soon. The Strongman caught him by his face and unleashed another force bolt. August screamed as he hit the floor. Titus was already searching for his other arrows. He had bought them off a gnomish priest. They were high density Seraphite (a metal particularly effective against undead and demons). Bad news, he only had two. The Strongman was advancing on August who just now getting to his feet. Titus took aim and fired both arrows at the same time. The arrows seemed to tear away at the Strongman’s being rather than wound him. The Strongman screamed in agony. Wheeled and charged Titus. Titus tried to draw his Falchion but fumbled the scabbard snap. The Strongman attacked with fury, arcing the axe in from out wide. Titus tried to block with his bow. The balefire axe crushed through the archer’s weapon and tore half his side off. “Say goodbye” the Strongman spat as he readied the deathblow. The last thing Titus saw was August’s glowing golden weapons exploding out the Strongman’s chest. The demon dissipated into motes of shadow, spitting blasphemous curses all the way. Then Titus’ world went black.
The two would be heroes moved into the tower. Swept the main floor found nothing until they breached the study. The sight was obviously one for dark magic, though empty, the site still filled the duo with dread. Weapons sprang into hands and they crept in. A circle was scribed into the floor. Several books had been used for fuel for a fire long since extinguished. August and Titus replaced their weapons and searched for clues. Titus found a journal on the desk. He beckoned August to his side. “Can you make anything of this Auggie?” August looked over the exposed pages but was careful not to touch. He shook his head “It is a language unfamiliar to me. But these characters are of religious font here. The one for blood, this one is darkness and the omen letter or soon will pass.” He stared hard at the book. Titus put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gone, use the breast plate.” Augusts’ eyes welled up for a second, then he shook back the tears and threw back his tabard revealing an engraved face of a roaring Lion on his armor. “OS OF SANCTUS” he exclaimed the eyes of the engraving flared white for a moment. August flipped the book to the front binding and his lip curled in disgust as he saw the holy symbol. “Damnation” he snarled. “What is it, a spell book, oh wait an evil book that sucks in unsuspecting victims, or a book that grows big sharp teeth?” the bowman spewed from his mouth, eyes wide with wonder. August glared “Be serious! The book is neither magical in nature nor evil in itself. Whoever wrote the journal is a worshipper of Rallaster though.” Titus paused. “He is the deity of murder and torture?” August nodded. “Excellent!” Titus exclaimed as he threw the journal in his pack. August threw up his hands and left the room.
The rest of the tower yielded nothing until they started to the basement. Once past basement door and halfway down the stairs the door slammed shut. Ominous laughter wafted up from the darkness below. “Lovely” August sighed as he hung his head. Balefire torches sprung to life as they hit the ground floor bathing everything in a sickly green light. “Which one of you shall be my vassal when I take over your fleshly shell?” a gravelly voice boomed. There at the back of the room lay another circle of power and in its center stood a being well over 7 feet in a black cloak, and whose eyes glared red with hellfire. “I am the Strongman. I have been trapped in this basement for quite some time. This circle could not contain me but the conditions of my summoning were quite well inscribed. I could not shed the casters blood, could not use any of my magic, yet I needed physical body to leave this basement, but here I am whole. So who of you wishes to be my chosen? Is it you O fallen holy soldier. Stripped of you power by bureaucracy? Or you White Tower spawn?” Titus’ normal carefree demeanor changed to one of terror and anger. “What do you know of the cursed place?” Titus screamed, and quick as summer lightning fired two arrows. The Strongman dodged the first arrow and caught the second. He laughed before tossing it aside. “Nothing. Everything. Much more than you.” The being said coyly.
Again August exposed the Lion Shield. This time the breastplates eyes a blue light and Augusts’ own eyes flared the same topaz light. “Demon your time here ends! MORSUS ex UMBRA!” His war axe flared an angry blue as he charged hacking into the Strongman. The Demon screamed then projected to bolts of force taking both heroes off of their feet and pushed them into the wall. The Strongman summoned a wicked looking great axe that bled balefire. Titus’ bow thrummed pelting the demon with arrows. The Strongman ignored the archer as the arrows seemed to have little effect on the demon. August drew his short sword in addition to his war axe. They went from the blue light and shifted to a more gold hue. The “Fang and Claw” style in which August fought was awesome to watch. Titus even paused in his assault. The Strongman brought down a vicious overhand chop. August had to over extend to dodge it and then tried to counter much too soon. The Strongman caught him by his face and unleashed another force bolt. August screamed as he hit the floor. Titus was already searching for his other arrows. He had bought them off a gnomish priest. They were high density Seraphite (a metal particularly effective against undead and demons). Bad news, he only had two. The Strongman was advancing on August who just now getting to his feet. Titus took aim and fired both arrows at the same time. The arrows seemed to tear away at the Strongman’s being rather than wound him. The Strongman screamed in agony. Wheeled and charged Titus. Titus tried to draw his Falchion but fumbled the scabbard snap. The Strongman attacked with fury, arcing the axe in from out wide. Titus tried to block with his bow. The balefire axe crushed through the archer’s weapon and tore half his side off. “Say goodbye” the Strongman spat as he readied the deathblow. The last thing Titus saw was August’s glowing golden weapons exploding out the Strongman’s chest. The demon dissipated into motes of shadow, spitting blasphemous curses all the way. Then Titus’ world went black.
The Black Ace was full tonight. Several trade ships had come to port. Midshipman and ship crew packed the joint. The drinking hole was doing spades in business. Towards the back a game of Thrones and Blades was in full swing.
“9’s over 6’s” said a grizzled Sea dog as he laid his cards down giving a large smile revealing a mouth full of a single blackened tooth. “What’cha got Utah?” One tooth blurted as he went to rake in his earnings. A man in an odd leather coat sat there silently drinking and smoking ginger weed. He took a deep draw off of the cigarette and exhaled the smoke. As he lay his cards down he said “Rule of Witch again. Queens over Kings, again. Appears my house is a little fuller and bigger these days.” The game went on for another hour before the man named Utah cashed out and claimed his weapons from the bar. But he had left with so much more than things of monetary value. One Tooth had gone all in on a hand which he was bluffing to win. Utah didn’t have much to go on either. Utah had several cards up his sleeve. Literally. One Flush of Thrones later and One Tooth jumped at the chance to give him a particular shipping invoice instead of a pound of flesh.
As he came out he lit another ginger weed blunt. A man with a monocle stepped from the shadow of the alleyway. Utah continued to draw in on his blunt. “I can see you were most successful by your posture, and have obtained said information you set out for. You were also quite proficient at cards or dice, ah no, Thrones and Blades. You always roll up your right sleeve when playing your favorite game. Besides I can smell a very nice Cherry Cognac that you couldn’t afford before tonight so, you must have some winnings.” Utah started down the Dock way “I never tire of that you know, you have really become quite good Rols. The whole deductive reasoning thing.” Roland fell in stride with the gambling man. “Ah ‘tis a shame, to be true. But this is an alliance purely of a symbiotic nature, I help you and Morganis, in turn he grants me access to the Vatan worshiper’s library.” Utah took a deep belt off of a flask “So you keep saying. Where is Morg anyway? Docks?” They wheeled toward the Shipyard “I would surmise he is invoking the blessing of Hammer Lord as we speak.” Roland stated as they moved down the street.
Arriving at the Docks the pair made their way into an empty warehouse and found their companion meditating. As the door shut Utah placed his hand on Morg’s shoulder and gently shook him from his devotions. The half orc raised himself up to his full height. He was a tower of iron in his field plate; he drew out his two handed battle cudgel and spoke “I have communed with the Spirits in service to the Hammer Lord. We shall see blood this night. You have our information?” Roland stepped forward “Quite correct, we have the ciphers key. Now if I can have the Pierwright’s ledger.” Morganis handed him a slim leather bound book. A few moments later after Roland spoke “Gentlemen the slavers ship is hailed by the title The Hangman’s Oath”
Roland and Morganis made their way to the slavers ship. Roland pointed out the guards he could see. “Stick to the plan.” Morganis said. As they approached the ship guards rushed forward. “Ships off limits, be moving on lest we leave you bleeding on the ground.” Morganis never broke his stride he dropped a mailed fist right on top of the slavers head dropping him on the spot. Roland spoke in strange sonorous voice inviting the other two to wonderful slumber. They too collapsed.
On the backside of the ship Utah levitated up to ships rigging, landing in the crow’s nest. From this vantage he viewed his partners approach. His eyes flashed with power as he used sheer will and pulled a rope to entrap another slaver fifteen feet below him, pulling him overboard. That left the only other guard on the quarter deck. He jumped and slowly drifted down. Landing behind the slaver. Once again his eyes flashed and said SLEEP. The spell didn’t take. The man whirled about. His gaze turned murderous as he drew a saber and a gaff hook. “Oh by six gods and harlot” Utah swore “It’s always the hard way”. Utah took a step back to give himself some space. The slaver rushed in low then high. Utah circled around and jumped off the back of the ship his levitation spell still in effect and he hung there completely out of reach of the deadly slaver. Utah’s eyes flashed again and 8’ gout of flame consumed the wicked man from his outstretched fingers.
The captain’s door flew open. Captain Blackmane was a huge man. His bushy beard and wild eyes gave him an appearance of some sort of fell beast. “To arms lads! There’s killin’ to be done!” Blackmane drew a flintlock pistol and fired, clipping Morganis in the side. Morganis looked at the wound, let out a low growl. His face became dangerous as he strode towards the Captain.
Six slavers rushed up from the hold. The last was a man with dark skin who wore armor fashioned to look like bones. They made an odd jangle with every step. He nodded at Blackmane as he arrived topside. He took in the scene and started up the quarter deck towards Utah.
One slaver rushed for the harpoon cannon. He jerked it around and set his sights on the trudging Cleric. He never saw Roland; he only heard a click as Roland fired his own pistol and sent him to the next world. Another slaver charged Roland’s position at the cannon. Roland jerked the cannon around aimed and fired. The harpoon gutted the would be assailant. Roland rolled around dropped to one knee and uttered an incantation. Everything seemed to slow down, everything seemed magnified. He drew another two pistols took aim at two different slavers and fired. As they hit the deck bleeding out, the world slammed back into full speed.
The bone armored man crested the last step just as Utah had managed to work himself back onto the quarter deck. The man drew a small shield and a wicked looking mace fashioned into the visage of a screaming woman. His face was cruel and proud. Utah looked up to see him approach. “By the hairy whores of White Mountain! They’ve got a Jannu too!” He looked around black skinned warrior to check on Morganis and Roland. “Why do I always get the big thick bastards?” He threw in as his eyes flashed and let loose a barrage of magic bolts. The bolts flew true but slammed into some unseen force surrounding the exotic warrior. He laughed haughtily. “The Gods disfavor you tonight pale skin. My people were long ago set outside the bounds of magic. Look upon your death.” The man became a blur as he rushed Utah. His mace slamming into his leg, then he brought his shield up and clipped him in the side of the face. “Not in the face! Now you’ve crossed the line.” The Jannu swung high. In one fluid motion Utah drew his sawed off rifle, ducked the attack and placed the barrel right underneath the man’s jaw. “Be immune to this.” He jabbed as he pulled the trigger. This was no ordinary gun it was a spellgun. Utah was one of the few people who could focus his arcane energies and store them up in a weapon. The pure arcane energy still had little effect on the Jannu, but the lead shot was enough to take his face off. Utah left the foreign warrior laying on the deck a mass of blood and smoke.
Morganis strode toward the captain. He summoned the divine blessing of his patron Vatan the Hammer Lord. He was a juggernaught. He would not be stopped. Even when one of the Captain’s minions tried to bull rush him over board. Morganis backhanded him causing him to swallow a mouthful of crushed teeth. He unslung his battle cudgel and pulled up 10 feet short of Blackmane. “Captain Christoph Blackmane you are hereby charged with piracy, theft, slaughter of the innocent, and slavery. You shall surrender and throw down your arms. Repent of your wickedness and the Vatan shall be merciful in eternity.” His evangelism was met by another shot this time grazing his cheek. He let out a low growl that rose to a battle cry as he closed the gap between him and Blackmane. Morganis slammed the butt of his hammer into the slave lords midsection. As he doubled over Morganis brought his hammer in a wide sideways arc. The blow was so forceful he had to turn full circle just not to fall down. The slave captain was on deaths door. Morganis invoked the healing power of Vatan. Blackmane would not escape justice in this world. Utah came down the stairs and lit a ginger blunt, inhaled deeply. “Bloody hell. Not bad. Not bad at all.” he stated as he exhaled.
“9’s over 6’s” said a grizzled Sea dog as he laid his cards down giving a large smile revealing a mouth full of a single blackened tooth. “What’cha got Utah?” One tooth blurted as he went to rake in his earnings. A man in an odd leather coat sat there silently drinking and smoking ginger weed. He took a deep draw off of the cigarette and exhaled the smoke. As he lay his cards down he said “Rule of Witch again. Queens over Kings, again. Appears my house is a little fuller and bigger these days.” The game went on for another hour before the man named Utah cashed out and claimed his weapons from the bar. But he had left with so much more than things of monetary value. One Tooth had gone all in on a hand which he was bluffing to win. Utah didn’t have much to go on either. Utah had several cards up his sleeve. Literally. One Flush of Thrones later and One Tooth jumped at the chance to give him a particular shipping invoice instead of a pound of flesh.
As he came out he lit another ginger weed blunt. A man with a monocle stepped from the shadow of the alleyway. Utah continued to draw in on his blunt. “I can see you were most successful by your posture, and have obtained said information you set out for. You were also quite proficient at cards or dice, ah no, Thrones and Blades. You always roll up your right sleeve when playing your favorite game. Besides I can smell a very nice Cherry Cognac that you couldn’t afford before tonight so, you must have some winnings.” Utah started down the Dock way “I never tire of that you know, you have really become quite good Rols. The whole deductive reasoning thing.” Roland fell in stride with the gambling man. “Ah ‘tis a shame, to be true. But this is an alliance purely of a symbiotic nature, I help you and Morganis, in turn he grants me access to the Vatan worshiper’s library.” Utah took a deep belt off of a flask “So you keep saying. Where is Morg anyway? Docks?” They wheeled toward the Shipyard “I would surmise he is invoking the blessing of Hammer Lord as we speak.” Roland stated as they moved down the street.
Arriving at the Docks the pair made their way into an empty warehouse and found their companion meditating. As the door shut Utah placed his hand on Morg’s shoulder and gently shook him from his devotions. The half orc raised himself up to his full height. He was a tower of iron in his field plate; he drew out his two handed battle cudgel and spoke “I have communed with the Spirits in service to the Hammer Lord. We shall see blood this night. You have our information?” Roland stepped forward “Quite correct, we have the ciphers key. Now if I can have the Pierwright’s ledger.” Morganis handed him a slim leather bound book. A few moments later after Roland spoke “Gentlemen the slavers ship is hailed by the title The Hangman’s Oath”
Roland and Morganis made their way to the slavers ship. Roland pointed out the guards he could see. “Stick to the plan.” Morganis said. As they approached the ship guards rushed forward. “Ships off limits, be moving on lest we leave you bleeding on the ground.” Morganis never broke his stride he dropped a mailed fist right on top of the slavers head dropping him on the spot. Roland spoke in strange sonorous voice inviting the other two to wonderful slumber. They too collapsed.
On the backside of the ship Utah levitated up to ships rigging, landing in the crow’s nest. From this vantage he viewed his partners approach. His eyes flashed with power as he used sheer will and pulled a rope to entrap another slaver fifteen feet below him, pulling him overboard. That left the only other guard on the quarter deck. He jumped and slowly drifted down. Landing behind the slaver. Once again his eyes flashed and said SLEEP. The spell didn’t take. The man whirled about. His gaze turned murderous as he drew a saber and a gaff hook. “Oh by six gods and harlot” Utah swore “It’s always the hard way”. Utah took a step back to give himself some space. The slaver rushed in low then high. Utah circled around and jumped off the back of the ship his levitation spell still in effect and he hung there completely out of reach of the deadly slaver. Utah’s eyes flashed again and 8’ gout of flame consumed the wicked man from his outstretched fingers.
The captain’s door flew open. Captain Blackmane was a huge man. His bushy beard and wild eyes gave him an appearance of some sort of fell beast. “To arms lads! There’s killin’ to be done!” Blackmane drew a flintlock pistol and fired, clipping Morganis in the side. Morganis looked at the wound, let out a low growl. His face became dangerous as he strode towards the Captain.
Six slavers rushed up from the hold. The last was a man with dark skin who wore armor fashioned to look like bones. They made an odd jangle with every step. He nodded at Blackmane as he arrived topside. He took in the scene and started up the quarter deck towards Utah.
One slaver rushed for the harpoon cannon. He jerked it around and set his sights on the trudging Cleric. He never saw Roland; he only heard a click as Roland fired his own pistol and sent him to the next world. Another slaver charged Roland’s position at the cannon. Roland jerked the cannon around aimed and fired. The harpoon gutted the would be assailant. Roland rolled around dropped to one knee and uttered an incantation. Everything seemed to slow down, everything seemed magnified. He drew another two pistols took aim at two different slavers and fired. As they hit the deck bleeding out, the world slammed back into full speed.
The bone armored man crested the last step just as Utah had managed to work himself back onto the quarter deck. The man drew a small shield and a wicked looking mace fashioned into the visage of a screaming woman. His face was cruel and proud. Utah looked up to see him approach. “By the hairy whores of White Mountain! They’ve got a Jannu too!” He looked around black skinned warrior to check on Morganis and Roland. “Why do I always get the big thick bastards?” He threw in as his eyes flashed and let loose a barrage of magic bolts. The bolts flew true but slammed into some unseen force surrounding the exotic warrior. He laughed haughtily. “The Gods disfavor you tonight pale skin. My people were long ago set outside the bounds of magic. Look upon your death.” The man became a blur as he rushed Utah. His mace slamming into his leg, then he brought his shield up and clipped him in the side of the face. “Not in the face! Now you’ve crossed the line.” The Jannu swung high. In one fluid motion Utah drew his sawed off rifle, ducked the attack and placed the barrel right underneath the man’s jaw. “Be immune to this.” He jabbed as he pulled the trigger. This was no ordinary gun it was a spellgun. Utah was one of the few people who could focus his arcane energies and store them up in a weapon. The pure arcane energy still had little effect on the Jannu, but the lead shot was enough to take his face off. Utah left the foreign warrior laying on the deck a mass of blood and smoke.
Morganis strode toward the captain. He summoned the divine blessing of his patron Vatan the Hammer Lord. He was a juggernaught. He would not be stopped. Even when one of the Captain’s minions tried to bull rush him over board. Morganis backhanded him causing him to swallow a mouthful of crushed teeth. He unslung his battle cudgel and pulled up 10 feet short of Blackmane. “Captain Christoph Blackmane you are hereby charged with piracy, theft, slaughter of the innocent, and slavery. You shall surrender and throw down your arms. Repent of your wickedness and the Vatan shall be merciful in eternity.” His evangelism was met by another shot this time grazing his cheek. He let out a low growl that rose to a battle cry as he closed the gap between him and Blackmane. Morganis slammed the butt of his hammer into the slave lords midsection. As he doubled over Morganis brought his hammer in a wide sideways arc. The blow was so forceful he had to turn full circle just not to fall down. The slave captain was on deaths door. Morganis invoked the healing power of Vatan. Blackmane would not escape justice in this world. Utah came down the stairs and lit a ginger blunt, inhaled deeply. “Bloody hell. Not bad. Not bad at all.” he stated as he exhaled.
The plan comes together
“Roland will you please come with us? You really have become a friend and you’ve proven your mettle more than once over.” Utah pleaded. The astute gun slinging lore master shook his head “In another life perhaps. But my ancestral manor beckons me. I must answer her call. She gives up her treasures and yields even more mystery. You are a dear friend, both Morganis and yourself. Truer companions cannot be found.” “You will stick around to tell him.” The sorcerer retorted matter of factly. Roland peered down the street a smile broke over his face. “It appears I do not have to wait long. By his gate and expression I can tell that the meeting he had with his superiors went rather well.” Morganis did not beat around bush as he met the other two. “Roland you are not to be rid of us yet. The Church of Vatan would like to erect and maintain an Abbey. The land abuts your own property of Wyrmcrest. We are to escort an advance team of builders and clergy. The Church would like to know if Wyrmcrest would be interested in lodging the team and its’ staff. There is a monthly stipend of course.” It was difficult for Utah to hide his excitement as he looked for Rolands response. Roland cocked his head and raised one eyebrow then extended his hand and grasped Morganis’ own “Agreed!”
________________________________________________________
“Look at this!” Titus exclaimed as he shoved a piece of parchment to Augusts’ side of the table. The former Paladin, perused the sheet. “So what? The Hammer Lord’s church wants to extend their sphere of influence. Faiths claim new lands all the time.” August went back to staring into the fire of common room. Titus rolled his eyes. “Grief’s for the dying or dead August. You are neither. This expedition is bound to need able fighters, men of skill and keen intellect. Besides this may either be away to get back into the imperial churches good graces or find you faith the old fashioned way.” His last comment drew August out of his brooding. “Old fashioned way?” Titus stood “You know faith comes by hearing and all that.” August gently nodded. “Perhaps.” The two warriors left in search of the caravan of the Hammer Lord.
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Thorn pulled down his mask and looked over the dead man’s desk. Thorn had sniffed him out as an agent of the Brothers of Rhone. The cabal of assassins that had forged Thorn into what he was. He found what he was looking for. The agent’s orders were carefully concealed rolled up in a flute. Thorn looked over the orders and thought to himself “So they are to kill a Vatan missionary during an expedition to a new holy site. On the road to make it look like a bandit attempt gone wrong.” Thorn started staging the body to make it look like an accident. “Best to join this expedition if I am going to foil this attempt. There is bound to be a Gray Man leading them. He will have a map.”
The charter had been posted for two weeks and Morganis and company had seen many a colorful character sign up to go. Some they just turned down. So far they had a decent team. I addition to the 6 missionaries and Head Priest there were two dwarven brothers that were masons, a retired military man who was a field cook, four mercenaries of whom two looked especially deadly, yet good natured. Their names were Titus and August. Some carpenters, an engineer with a crew of laborers and craftsmen. As they were about to leave a tattered old wagon rolled up. A fat man sat atop it “This that venture out east for the Hammer Lord and all?” he inquired. Morganis strode forward “It is but in the intitial phase you it must be determined that you are a man of skill and provide a service to the project that it would normally receive in civilization. Do you possess such a skill?” Morganis stated. The strange man laughed “Well if it is skills that you want them I have some sweet skills. I am an alchemist, an herbalist and a crack negotiator. Why there’s not a race I haven’t had successful dealings with. The name’s Tinnley.” Morganis looked to Utah and Roland who answered him with a shrug. “All right lets head east young men!” Morganis half yelled as he mounted his horse.
The Caravan met with little trouble until the third day. It was just past mid day when it happened 3 halflings came sprinting out of the forest. “Run! Run!” they were shouting. The horses spooked. “What in name of Mrs. Maxwell on Green Street?” Utah cursed. Just then two enormous weasels broke the tree line. They were easily bigger than the horses. The Halflings ran straight Tinnleys’ wagon. With unbelievable speed Tinnley jumped down and caught two of them pinning them to the ground. The third made it into the wagon and disappeared. August started barking out orders “Warriors and fighters dismount and move to the left flank. Range support get high ground on the wagons. Fire at will. Civilians and clergy on the other side of the wagon.” Roland popped off a shot from his pistol, but was too far for any accuracy. Titus fired two arrows. Two arrows hit home on the lead weasel, followed by another two bolts of arcane energy from Utah’s outstretched hand. The merchant held a dagger over the two Halflings searching their faces for motive. All he could see was terror. “Tinnley let them up. If you are able bodied then help us.” Morganis cried out. Titus fired two more arrows but only one found the mark this time. The weasels were close. “We need a way to break the charge.” August yelled out. He looked to Titus then Utah and on down the line at his companions. Each one shook their head no. Tinnley stepped up “I got your charge breaker.” He drew some small stones from a pouch. “Hold your ears.” The thunderstones exploded and caused the weasels to rear up onto two legs. “Charge” August ordered. In force the companions took down the weasels with only a few minor wounds to show for their trouble.
__________________________________________________________
Three more days into the journey not an hour after they broke camp Roland told them they should make Wyrmcrest by nightfall. No one noticed the new guard that had slipped into their detail.
Titus was the first to spy the movement. He looked to Morganis and whispered “we have trouble.” Just then three men stepped into the road. “We are Toll wardens, anyone wishing to pass farther must pay the road tax.” said the lead Highwayman. Morganis steered his horse to the front and dismounted. “How much is this tax?” The man chuckled and looked back and forth between his companions “Well let us say 50 gold….a piece”. Morganis face turned angry there was little he hated more than petty theft and senseless violence. He could tell both were brewing. The Vatan warrior cleric drew himself up straight “We are fulfilling a charter issued by the House of Griffons. To oppose or hinder us is considered treason. Turn from your larcenous and wicked ways, ask the Hammer Lord for mercy and it shall be granted. All that come to him he will in no wise cast out.” The highway man whistled a signal and 6 archers on each side popped up. “Look they want to pay for us” said Titus. “Ahhh flaming bags of
” Utah cursed as he dismounted. August came to the front just right of Morganis. “Know this robber, YOU will die here to. Whatever else happens, at the end you will lie cold and lifeless.”
Thorn as Tinnley searched the horizon. He silently cursed. No sign of the Gray Man. This had the brothers stink on it. He was thoughtful as the first arrows flew and August started to bark out commands. His eyes went wide as he thought back and remembered the new guard.
August started his battlefield rant “Titus and I have the right! Morganis hold the front. Guards lend him support. Rols you and Utah pin down the left side until we can mop up. Tinnley….Damnation!” Augusts’ commands stopped short as he saw Tinnley’s seat empty.
Titus’ skill with his bow showed as he provided cover for August who tore into the bandits with his “claw and fang” style. His axe took a hand off. He sunk his short halfway in another’s thigh. Arrows from Titus kept from attacking his defenseless backside. One scored a vicious hit with a dagger. August redoubled his efforts. The axe cleaved through a collar bone, his sword took another head. The last charged in but four arrows took the man to his grave.
The highway men were good especially the leader. The two civilian guards that had enlisted with the expedition met their end in seconds. All three pressed Morganis from all sides. The Clerics battle cudgel came down hard on a knee. He fended off the other two with wide swings. The leader did an aerial acrobatic to land be hind Morganis. The other rushed in only to be struck by a mighty blow that his so hard it drove him into the ground.
Roland and Utah made short work of the archers on the left with Roland magically convincing two of them to turn on their companions. Utah’s barrage of spellfire and bullets took down the rest. They finished just in time to see the Leader leap over their dear friend Morganis. Morganis landed a powerful blow, but before he could spin to defend himself the lead bandit drove his sword through his back. Cries of “No!” abounded on all sides as Morganis’ eyes went white and rolled in the back of his head. He sunk to the ground lifeless. The lead bandit met his end in a most grizzly fashion. The bullets, arrows, and arcane energy had already taken his life a split second before August arrived to him. August went into a spin his sword high, his axe low. He took off his head and his left leg for good measure. They all rushed to Morganis’ body.
Thorn as Tinnley rushed to the acolyte’s carriage just as the battle broke out on all sides. He was sure this was the play. He burst in to find all six acolytes slain. The new “guard” had a garrote around the lead priest’s neck. Thorn shed the fat merchant guise he had found the gray man. The assassin drew a short sword. Thorn could not draw his own hand and a half sword due to the cramped quarters. The assassin lunged in hoping for a quick kill. Thorn side stepped grappled the man’s arm and disarmed him. The gray man countered with two hard punches to the face. They separated. Thorn could feel the other threaten to take over. The gray man roared as his own visage changed panther like and his hands turned black and his fingernails lengthened into claws. Thorn had to end this now. The Gray Man charged. Thorn threw a handful of sand into his attackers face. In the momentary draw back Thorn released his tekko-kagi and tore out the man’s throat.
Roland had tears in his eyes as he tended to his fried. Morganis’ breathing was shallow and he was very pale. “Healing potions?” Roland cried out. They all shook their heads no in reply. Titus cursed, his normal flippant demeanor now grave. “I can save him” he spat “but in need a volunteer.” August blurted out “I am your man”. Titus began to unbuckle the leather sleeve on his right arm “August this is no joke, this will hurt. A lot. Life for life, essence for essence”. When Titus removed the sleeve there was a sharp intake of breath and a few groans of disgust. Titus echoed their revulsion with his grimace as he looked at the grotesque limb that was black mottled with green, purple and gray. “Lay down August”. The former paladin hesitated but then complied. The bowman placed the withered hand on his forehead and his good hand on Morganis’ wound. He had a look of concentration on his face. Nothing happened then August screamed a cry of pure anguish. The warrior arched so hard it looked as if he would break his back. He bucked wildly. “Someone hold him” Titus shouted. Color began to return to Morganis’ face. August pallor turned ashy and his screams turned almost un-human. Morganis’ wound closed. Titus violently withdrew his hand and grabbed his leather sleeve ran into the small copse of trees and emptied his stomach's contents.
“Roland will you please come with us? You really have become a friend and you’ve proven your mettle more than once over.” Utah pleaded. The astute gun slinging lore master shook his head “In another life perhaps. But my ancestral manor beckons me. I must answer her call. She gives up her treasures and yields even more mystery. You are a dear friend, both Morganis and yourself. Truer companions cannot be found.” “You will stick around to tell him.” The sorcerer retorted matter of factly. Roland peered down the street a smile broke over his face. “It appears I do not have to wait long. By his gate and expression I can tell that the meeting he had with his superiors went rather well.” Morganis did not beat around bush as he met the other two. “Roland you are not to be rid of us yet. The Church of Vatan would like to erect and maintain an Abbey. The land abuts your own property of Wyrmcrest. We are to escort an advance team of builders and clergy. The Church would like to know if Wyrmcrest would be interested in lodging the team and its’ staff. There is a monthly stipend of course.” It was difficult for Utah to hide his excitement as he looked for Rolands response. Roland cocked his head and raised one eyebrow then extended his hand and grasped Morganis’ own “Agreed!”
________________________________________________________
“Look at this!” Titus exclaimed as he shoved a piece of parchment to Augusts’ side of the table. The former Paladin, perused the sheet. “So what? The Hammer Lord’s church wants to extend their sphere of influence. Faiths claim new lands all the time.” August went back to staring into the fire of common room. Titus rolled his eyes. “Grief’s for the dying or dead August. You are neither. This expedition is bound to need able fighters, men of skill and keen intellect. Besides this may either be away to get back into the imperial churches good graces or find you faith the old fashioned way.” His last comment drew August out of his brooding. “Old fashioned way?” Titus stood “You know faith comes by hearing and all that.” August gently nodded. “Perhaps.” The two warriors left in search of the caravan of the Hammer Lord.
________________________________________________________
Thorn pulled down his mask and looked over the dead man’s desk. Thorn had sniffed him out as an agent of the Brothers of Rhone. The cabal of assassins that had forged Thorn into what he was. He found what he was looking for. The agent’s orders were carefully concealed rolled up in a flute. Thorn looked over the orders and thought to himself “So they are to kill a Vatan missionary during an expedition to a new holy site. On the road to make it look like a bandit attempt gone wrong.” Thorn started staging the body to make it look like an accident. “Best to join this expedition if I am going to foil this attempt. There is bound to be a Gray Man leading them. He will have a map.”
The charter had been posted for two weeks and Morganis and company had seen many a colorful character sign up to go. Some they just turned down. So far they had a decent team. I addition to the 6 missionaries and Head Priest there were two dwarven brothers that were masons, a retired military man who was a field cook, four mercenaries of whom two looked especially deadly, yet good natured. Their names were Titus and August. Some carpenters, an engineer with a crew of laborers and craftsmen. As they were about to leave a tattered old wagon rolled up. A fat man sat atop it “This that venture out east for the Hammer Lord and all?” he inquired. Morganis strode forward “It is but in the intitial phase you it must be determined that you are a man of skill and provide a service to the project that it would normally receive in civilization. Do you possess such a skill?” Morganis stated. The strange man laughed “Well if it is skills that you want them I have some sweet skills. I am an alchemist, an herbalist and a crack negotiator. Why there’s not a race I haven’t had successful dealings with. The name’s Tinnley.” Morganis looked to Utah and Roland who answered him with a shrug. “All right lets head east young men!” Morganis half yelled as he mounted his horse.
The Caravan met with little trouble until the third day. It was just past mid day when it happened 3 halflings came sprinting out of the forest. “Run! Run!” they were shouting. The horses spooked. “What in name of Mrs. Maxwell on Green Street?” Utah cursed. Just then two enormous weasels broke the tree line. They were easily bigger than the horses. The Halflings ran straight Tinnleys’ wagon. With unbelievable speed Tinnley jumped down and caught two of them pinning them to the ground. The third made it into the wagon and disappeared. August started barking out orders “Warriors and fighters dismount and move to the left flank. Range support get high ground on the wagons. Fire at will. Civilians and clergy on the other side of the wagon.” Roland popped off a shot from his pistol, but was too far for any accuracy. Titus fired two arrows. Two arrows hit home on the lead weasel, followed by another two bolts of arcane energy from Utah’s outstretched hand. The merchant held a dagger over the two Halflings searching their faces for motive. All he could see was terror. “Tinnley let them up. If you are able bodied then help us.” Morganis cried out. Titus fired two more arrows but only one found the mark this time. The weasels were close. “We need a way to break the charge.” August yelled out. He looked to Titus then Utah and on down the line at his companions. Each one shook their head no. Tinnley stepped up “I got your charge breaker.” He drew some small stones from a pouch. “Hold your ears.” The thunderstones exploded and caused the weasels to rear up onto two legs. “Charge” August ordered. In force the companions took down the weasels with only a few minor wounds to show for their trouble.
__________________________________________________________
Three more days into the journey not an hour after they broke camp Roland told them they should make Wyrmcrest by nightfall. No one noticed the new guard that had slipped into their detail.
Titus was the first to spy the movement. He looked to Morganis and whispered “we have trouble.” Just then three men stepped into the road. “We are Toll wardens, anyone wishing to pass farther must pay the road tax.” said the lead Highwayman. Morganis steered his horse to the front and dismounted. “How much is this tax?” The man chuckled and looked back and forth between his companions “Well let us say 50 gold….a piece”. Morganis face turned angry there was little he hated more than petty theft and senseless violence. He could tell both were brewing. The Vatan warrior cleric drew himself up straight “We are fulfilling a charter issued by the House of Griffons. To oppose or hinder us is considered treason. Turn from your larcenous and wicked ways, ask the Hammer Lord for mercy and it shall be granted. All that come to him he will in no wise cast out.” The highway man whistled a signal and 6 archers on each side popped up. “Look they want to pay for us” said Titus. “Ahhh flaming bags of
” Utah cursed as he dismounted. August came to the front just right of Morganis. “Know this robber, YOU will die here to. Whatever else happens, at the end you will lie cold and lifeless.”Thorn as Tinnley searched the horizon. He silently cursed. No sign of the Gray Man. This had the brothers stink on it. He was thoughtful as the first arrows flew and August started to bark out commands. His eyes went wide as he thought back and remembered the new guard.
August started his battlefield rant “Titus and I have the right! Morganis hold the front. Guards lend him support. Rols you and Utah pin down the left side until we can mop up. Tinnley….Damnation!” Augusts’ commands stopped short as he saw Tinnley’s seat empty.
Titus’ skill with his bow showed as he provided cover for August who tore into the bandits with his “claw and fang” style. His axe took a hand off. He sunk his short halfway in another’s thigh. Arrows from Titus kept from attacking his defenseless backside. One scored a vicious hit with a dagger. August redoubled his efforts. The axe cleaved through a collar bone, his sword took another head. The last charged in but four arrows took the man to his grave.
The highway men were good especially the leader. The two civilian guards that had enlisted with the expedition met their end in seconds. All three pressed Morganis from all sides. The Clerics battle cudgel came down hard on a knee. He fended off the other two with wide swings. The leader did an aerial acrobatic to land be hind Morganis. The other rushed in only to be struck by a mighty blow that his so hard it drove him into the ground.
Roland and Utah made short work of the archers on the left with Roland magically convincing two of them to turn on their companions. Utah’s barrage of spellfire and bullets took down the rest. They finished just in time to see the Leader leap over their dear friend Morganis. Morganis landed a powerful blow, but before he could spin to defend himself the lead bandit drove his sword through his back. Cries of “No!” abounded on all sides as Morganis’ eyes went white and rolled in the back of his head. He sunk to the ground lifeless. The lead bandit met his end in a most grizzly fashion. The bullets, arrows, and arcane energy had already taken his life a split second before August arrived to him. August went into a spin his sword high, his axe low. He took off his head and his left leg for good measure. They all rushed to Morganis’ body.
Thorn as Tinnley rushed to the acolyte’s carriage just as the battle broke out on all sides. He was sure this was the play. He burst in to find all six acolytes slain. The new “guard” had a garrote around the lead priest’s neck. Thorn shed the fat merchant guise he had found the gray man. The assassin drew a short sword. Thorn could not draw his own hand and a half sword due to the cramped quarters. The assassin lunged in hoping for a quick kill. Thorn side stepped grappled the man’s arm and disarmed him. The gray man countered with two hard punches to the face. They separated. Thorn could feel the other threaten to take over. The gray man roared as his own visage changed panther like and his hands turned black and his fingernails lengthened into claws. Thorn had to end this now. The Gray Man charged. Thorn threw a handful of sand into his attackers face. In the momentary draw back Thorn released his tekko-kagi and tore out the man’s throat.
Roland had tears in his eyes as he tended to his fried. Morganis’ breathing was shallow and he was very pale. “Healing potions?” Roland cried out. They all shook their heads no in reply. Titus cursed, his normal flippant demeanor now grave. “I can save him” he spat “but in need a volunteer.” August blurted out “I am your man”. Titus began to unbuckle the leather sleeve on his right arm “August this is no joke, this will hurt. A lot. Life for life, essence for essence”. When Titus removed the sleeve there was a sharp intake of breath and a few groans of disgust. Titus echoed their revulsion with his grimace as he looked at the grotesque limb that was black mottled with green, purple and gray. “Lay down August”. The former paladin hesitated but then complied. The bowman placed the withered hand on his forehead and his good hand on Morganis’ wound. He had a look of concentration on his face. Nothing happened then August screamed a cry of pure anguish. The warrior arched so hard it looked as if he would break his back. He bucked wildly. “Someone hold him” Titus shouted. Color began to return to Morganis’ face. August pallor turned ashy and his screams turned almost un-human. Morganis’ wound closed. Titus violently withdrew his hand and grabbed his leather sleeve ran into the small copse of trees and emptied his stomach's contents.
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This was our official first session. If anything is unclear let me know. You guys have missed out on some back story and since it is a homebrew world I have done my best to present it in a way that is readable and makes sense. We do a lot of roleplaying and petty stuff through email that way when we actually game we get to the story and combat.
For some reason my guys are really into role-playing this go round. But I love it!
For some reason my guys are really into role-playing this go round. But I love it!
I had the players write up a quick character sketch of each one of their guys. They may view them just a tad bit different so if there's any conflict refer to me...uh..cuz I'm the master of this battle grid and it's my universe..yeah! Anyway here you go.
Utah synopsis
Gambler and drinker. He would live a life of vice and pleasure if left to him but it seems fate has plans of substance for him. Like being the next in line to hold a seat in “The House of Griffons”. Like making him one a of the fabled few who can take raw arcane energy and channel it through a weapon. His weapon happens to be a snub nosed flintlock rifle. His archetype is Doc Holiday(tombstone)/Prince Henry
Roland synopsis
A gunslinger. A sage. Smells of must and gunpowder. He believes in the way of logic over the force of a sword. He has inherited an ancestral manor known as Wyrmcrest. It is fabled to have the key to the Elves “withdrawl”(an event in the past which a majority of the elves left, leaving only the half breeds and a few rogue ones). The clues are hidden all over and it is up to the heir to solve the riddles and unlock the depths of wyrmcrest. Roland’s family has held the mantle of “The Heir” for generations and now it has fallen upon his shoulders. His Archetype is Indiana Jones/Benjamin Gates(National Treasure)/Sherlock Holmes.
Morganis synopsis
Morganis is a follower of Vatan the Hammer Lord. A cleric fierce in battle. He has a huge beard, a huge hammer and is generally huge. The fact that he is a half orc is hardly noticed as his face does not betray him. Although he is far from handsome. He is a natural evangelist and always attempts to give people a chance at repentance. His archetype is a half orcen and huge John the Baptist.
Titus synopsis
Titus has had a hard life. Waking up in a tower where the rooms are all plain white and there is no one to tell you anything when you were just a boy having no memory is rough. Looking down to see an undead appendage where your arm should be is rougher. All his boyhood spent running from angry mobs, would be witch hunters, and narrow minded people. He was driven north where he could cover up without drawing attention to himself. He now wears a leather sleeve on his right arm. The undead arm can suck the life out of living beings.(1/1 if they are willing, 1/3 if they are unwilling). He became a hunter and an archer. Being one with a zombie limb he tends to be a loner. He is immature not having a real chance to be a kid. His archetype is sort of Jason Bourne.
August synopsis.
A soldiers soldier. Groomed to be a member of the prestigious “Soldiers of the Lion” from when he was young. They are an order of Paladins. He disobeyed orders to rescue other soldiers from death. He offended his ambitious superior who stripped him of his rank and powers by the imperial church of Bahamut. He was granted a breast plate known as the “Lion Guard” forged with the image of a roaring lion on it. His uncle(retired from the Order) left it to him when he passed away. The breast plate grants him some of his Paladin abilities(Det. Evil, Smite Evil, Aura of Courage). Wrongfully accused he seeks to find his faith, and return to favor with his divine patron. His archetype is sort of a Maximus/sparticus.
Thorn synopsis:
Essentially Thorn is a ninja. From birth he was a warrior trained in the art of stealth. A killer. He is what is called a Night Touched(homebrew template). He is possessed by a spirit known as “The Other” when The Other takes over his physical attributes heighten(Barbarians Rage) and Thorn loses control for a short period of time. He has gained a measure of control however and seems to only lose it in the midst of dangerous combat. He was raised in a monastery of assassins but left when his spirit manifested. Though killing is all he has ever known he seeks a peaceful life. He loves to read and he favorite is poetry, he also has an interest in playing the lute. He seeks to be rid of The Other and lead a normal life(something he has never had). His Archetype is the Incredible Hulk/Dr. Banner.
Utah synopsis
Gambler and drinker. He would live a life of vice and pleasure if left to him but it seems fate has plans of substance for him. Like being the next in line to hold a seat in “The House of Griffons”. Like making him one a of the fabled few who can take raw arcane energy and channel it through a weapon. His weapon happens to be a snub nosed flintlock rifle. His archetype is Doc Holiday(tombstone)/Prince Henry
Roland synopsis
A gunslinger. A sage. Smells of must and gunpowder. He believes in the way of logic over the force of a sword. He has inherited an ancestral manor known as Wyrmcrest. It is fabled to have the key to the Elves “withdrawl”(an event in the past which a majority of the elves left, leaving only the half breeds and a few rogue ones). The clues are hidden all over and it is up to the heir to solve the riddles and unlock the depths of wyrmcrest. Roland’s family has held the mantle of “The Heir” for generations and now it has fallen upon his shoulders. His Archetype is Indiana Jones/Benjamin Gates(National Treasure)/Sherlock Holmes.
Morganis synopsis
Morganis is a follower of Vatan the Hammer Lord. A cleric fierce in battle. He has a huge beard, a huge hammer and is generally huge. The fact that he is a half orc is hardly noticed as his face does not betray him. Although he is far from handsome. He is a natural evangelist and always attempts to give people a chance at repentance. His archetype is a half orcen and huge John the Baptist.
Titus synopsis
Titus has had a hard life. Waking up in a tower where the rooms are all plain white and there is no one to tell you anything when you were just a boy having no memory is rough. Looking down to see an undead appendage where your arm should be is rougher. All his boyhood spent running from angry mobs, would be witch hunters, and narrow minded people. He was driven north where he could cover up without drawing attention to himself. He now wears a leather sleeve on his right arm. The undead arm can suck the life out of living beings.(1/1 if they are willing, 1/3 if they are unwilling). He became a hunter and an archer. Being one with a zombie limb he tends to be a loner. He is immature not having a real chance to be a kid. His archetype is sort of Jason Bourne.
August synopsis.
A soldiers soldier. Groomed to be a member of the prestigious “Soldiers of the Lion” from when he was young. They are an order of Paladins. He disobeyed orders to rescue other soldiers from death. He offended his ambitious superior who stripped him of his rank and powers by the imperial church of Bahamut. He was granted a breast plate known as the “Lion Guard” forged with the image of a roaring lion on it. His uncle(retired from the Order) left it to him when he passed away. The breast plate grants him some of his Paladin abilities(Det. Evil, Smite Evil, Aura of Courage). Wrongfully accused he seeks to find his faith, and return to favor with his divine patron. His archetype is sort of a Maximus/sparticus.
Thorn synopsis:
Essentially Thorn is a ninja. From birth he was a warrior trained in the art of stealth. A killer. He is what is called a Night Touched(homebrew template). He is possessed by a spirit known as “The Other” when The Other takes over his physical attributes heighten(Barbarians Rage) and Thorn loses control for a short period of time. He has gained a measure of control however and seems to only lose it in the midst of dangerous combat. He was raised in a monastery of assassins but left when his spirit manifested. Though killing is all he has ever known he seeks a peaceful life. He loves to read and he favorite is poetry, he also has an interest in playing the lute. He seeks to be rid of The Other and lead a normal life(something he has never had). His Archetype is the Incredible Hulk/Dr. Banner.
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Cleansing the Abbey ( WotC free adventure “Base of Operations”)
Part I
Titus was silent the rest of the journey. No one wanted to bother him just yet. Morganis sat slumped over in his saddle still very pale and weak. Thorn had revealed himself and his true intention in stopping the assassination. Though he did not mention he had been trained by the same Brotherhood that had attempted to take the life of the priest. The company welcomed him to the party. Roland broke the monotany of road talk. “Just over this next rise lies Wyrmcrest.” As the crested the hill Utah exclaimed “Boton’s balls! This isn’t just a big house it’s a castle!” This brought some levity to the group almost everyone smiled. The good time was short lived however. Roland’s face scrunched up “Something is wrong.” The party dismounted. Morganis asked “Are you sure? How do you know?” Titus had already knocked and arrow and began to slink off. Roland replied “Wyrmcrest is keyed to me. I am the heir and to me alone shall she yield. Powerful and ancient elven magic keeps her. That is why I can leave without fear of occupation, robbers or harm to her. But I do have a small staff to keep up the grounds, and cleaning and such. They were orphans so I gave them purpose. The eldest Ryril should have been watching the road though. Yet he is not here.” Thorn grabbed Roland by the shoulder he cocked his head and pointed to his ear. In the hush they all heard it, a soft scream and a heavy dull thump of blunt object beating on something. “The Guesthouse” Roland said as he drew his pistols. Everyone’s weapons were in there hands as they hustled to the guest house.
As they rounded the corner they saw two hulking figures pounding on the door of the house. Thorn took to the roof with a single leap, Titus followed with a little more difficulty. “Black hells and cold feet” spewed out of Utah’s mouth. “Hold and turn slowly” August commanded. The “men” were not really men. Huge and stringy they were unkempt. A mouthful of crooked misshapen teeth spoke “Weeesbuyeeeaattinnhue” as they stalked towards the party with murderous intent.
Two arrows hit the lead one in the back. Ignoring the strikes it charged meeting August and Morganis. August tried to roll with the backhand but the sheer force drove him to the ground. With the other hand it shoved Morganis into the wall of the guest house. The other turned to Utah as he pulled his sawed off rifle “Lucille” and cursed “Every frakin’ time big and thick”. He pulled the trigger taking a leg off the creature. Roland fired his pistols hitting the lead one square in the chest. He dropped those and drew two more. August recovered his footing and went into action hacking into the humanoid. Another two arrows found home in the lead one. Thorn dropped onto the now one legged creature driving his sword through its’ vital organs. It tried to scream but only black blood came out of its mouth.
The lead humanoid missed August twice as the former soldier hewed away. Then its head jerked violently with a sickening pop as Morganis hammer crashed into it.
The creatures (identified as Troll-born) were disposed of. The staff had been attacked and hid barricaded themselves in the guest house and were grateful for the masters return. The caravan set up and rooms were divided up for the night. As they set around the common room they learned the history of Wyrmcrest. Roland was the 13th heir to inherit the estate. It originally belonged to a powerful elven family. But since the time of the Withdrawl it had been in his family since. Roland had taken the mantle from his uncle. Roland told them the first heir received a scroll along with deed the scroll read thus
To you fate has entrusted a most grave task. The riddle must be
undone. Light we were light we have become. Holding back the shadow
until you come. Room by Room of lock and key until your last sun. The
answer deep within but the quest passed on. Over mountain on river
and underground. The road of air you too shall take. By fire by
blade by wit and soul. Till light return and the land made whole.
He went on to tell them the whole castle was a huge riddle. Puzzle rooms, guardians and monsters. Once his grandfather had to excavate a key from an underwater temple. The Foyer was set up to look like a smaller version of the temples sanctuary. There were hidden panels in it that when combined in the right pattern provided the map to the temple. Then his Grandfather had to go and get the key from the sunken temple. Since becoming the heir Roland had unlocked two rooms. The second he had to take the original scroll, translate it to dwarvish, then from the certain characters with right angles he was able to press the correct switch in a puzzle room. Solving that room had taken him five years. Now he explained that with Morganis help and allowing him into the Vatan worshiper’s library he believed he had the answer to his third room. They asked to join him. Titus said he would stay outside. Morganis stayed behind as well.
As the others left Morganis moved closer to Titus. “Thank you Titus”. Titus huffed and shook his head. “For what? Being an abomination?” “No for saving my life” Titus continued to shake his head and tears began to run down his face. Morganis’ continued “We are not what we are born but what we choose to be. Whatever you are you chose to save my life. I cannot imagine the burden you have had to bear all these years. But I promise I will do everything in my power to help you. By the Hammer Lord I owe you my life. Stick with us we are all abominations in some form or another. Yet Vatan smiles on us and extends his hands in mercy. He knows what trials this mortal husk may bring. He is acquainted with our grief. He will help you if you ask. I shall pray for you my friend” Titus merely nodded and cried silent tears as he stared at the floor. Morganis stayed and administered comfort from just his presence.
Roland led the others through a series of rooms. Finally they came to a room that was bare except for a single brazier that burned lazily. The room was walled with brick. Above the brazier hung the words
“Five anointed of the Hammer came before him. His death bed sermon shall reveal the way”. Utah looked at Roland “So what does that mean?” Roland moved towards the wall behind the brazier. Roland began to count the bricks “When he was dying Krovian the 6th high priest of Vatan called for a monk. Krovian dictated a small message to his clergy that served under him. Then he spoke these words. Six and Ten a door of Blood and Smoke” Again Utah asked “So what does that mean?” As Roland spoke he took a dagger and sliced his palm open twice “Krovian was a transplanted priest from Ossoria. In the old country it was customary for a traveler to anoint the door post of his home with blood for a safe journey.”
Roland traced a door in blood. He then stoked the brazier and poured some water on it. As smoke hit the wall with the painted door the brick dissolved and a doorway appeared. August who had been silent let out a low whistle. Utah peered in “Brother of a bastich Rols this is heavy. Let’s see what the next room is.” “No” Roland replied “I have trouble stopping once I find the next puzzle and we need to get the caravan settled and the base camp set up.”
Part I
Titus was silent the rest of the journey. No one wanted to bother him just yet. Morganis sat slumped over in his saddle still very pale and weak. Thorn had revealed himself and his true intention in stopping the assassination. Though he did not mention he had been trained by the same Brotherhood that had attempted to take the life of the priest. The company welcomed him to the party. Roland broke the monotany of road talk. “Just over this next rise lies Wyrmcrest.” As the crested the hill Utah exclaimed “Boton’s balls! This isn’t just a big house it’s a castle!” This brought some levity to the group almost everyone smiled. The good time was short lived however. Roland’s face scrunched up “Something is wrong.” The party dismounted. Morganis asked “Are you sure? How do you know?” Titus had already knocked and arrow and began to slink off. Roland replied “Wyrmcrest is keyed to me. I am the heir and to me alone shall she yield. Powerful and ancient elven magic keeps her. That is why I can leave without fear of occupation, robbers or harm to her. But I do have a small staff to keep up the grounds, and cleaning and such. They were orphans so I gave them purpose. The eldest Ryril should have been watching the road though. Yet he is not here.” Thorn grabbed Roland by the shoulder he cocked his head and pointed to his ear. In the hush they all heard it, a soft scream and a heavy dull thump of blunt object beating on something. “The Guesthouse” Roland said as he drew his pistols. Everyone’s weapons were in there hands as they hustled to the guest house.
As they rounded the corner they saw two hulking figures pounding on the door of the house. Thorn took to the roof with a single leap, Titus followed with a little more difficulty. “Black hells and cold feet” spewed out of Utah’s mouth. “Hold and turn slowly” August commanded. The “men” were not really men. Huge and stringy they were unkempt. A mouthful of crooked misshapen teeth spoke “Weeesbuyeeeaattinnhue” as they stalked towards the party with murderous intent.
Two arrows hit the lead one in the back. Ignoring the strikes it charged meeting August and Morganis. August tried to roll with the backhand but the sheer force drove him to the ground. With the other hand it shoved Morganis into the wall of the guest house. The other turned to Utah as he pulled his sawed off rifle “Lucille” and cursed “Every frakin’ time big and thick”. He pulled the trigger taking a leg off the creature. Roland fired his pistols hitting the lead one square in the chest. He dropped those and drew two more. August recovered his footing and went into action hacking into the humanoid. Another two arrows found home in the lead one. Thorn dropped onto the now one legged creature driving his sword through its’ vital organs. It tried to scream but only black blood came out of its mouth.
The lead humanoid missed August twice as the former soldier hewed away. Then its head jerked violently with a sickening pop as Morganis hammer crashed into it.
The creatures (identified as Troll-born) were disposed of. The staff had been attacked and hid barricaded themselves in the guest house and were grateful for the masters return. The caravan set up and rooms were divided up for the night. As they set around the common room they learned the history of Wyrmcrest. Roland was the 13th heir to inherit the estate. It originally belonged to a powerful elven family. But since the time of the Withdrawl it had been in his family since. Roland had taken the mantle from his uncle. Roland told them the first heir received a scroll along with deed the scroll read thus
To you fate has entrusted a most grave task. The riddle must be
undone. Light we were light we have become. Holding back the shadow
until you come. Room by Room of lock and key until your last sun. The
answer deep within but the quest passed on. Over mountain on river
and underground. The road of air you too shall take. By fire by
blade by wit and soul. Till light return and the land made whole.
He went on to tell them the whole castle was a huge riddle. Puzzle rooms, guardians and monsters. Once his grandfather had to excavate a key from an underwater temple. The Foyer was set up to look like a smaller version of the temples sanctuary. There were hidden panels in it that when combined in the right pattern provided the map to the temple. Then his Grandfather had to go and get the key from the sunken temple. Since becoming the heir Roland had unlocked two rooms. The second he had to take the original scroll, translate it to dwarvish, then from the certain characters with right angles he was able to press the correct switch in a puzzle room. Solving that room had taken him five years. Now he explained that with Morganis help and allowing him into the Vatan worshiper’s library he believed he had the answer to his third room. They asked to join him. Titus said he would stay outside. Morganis stayed behind as well.
As the others left Morganis moved closer to Titus. “Thank you Titus”. Titus huffed and shook his head. “For what? Being an abomination?” “No for saving my life” Titus continued to shake his head and tears began to run down his face. Morganis’ continued “We are not what we are born but what we choose to be. Whatever you are you chose to save my life. I cannot imagine the burden you have had to bear all these years. But I promise I will do everything in my power to help you. By the Hammer Lord I owe you my life. Stick with us we are all abominations in some form or another. Yet Vatan smiles on us and extends his hands in mercy. He knows what trials this mortal husk may bring. He is acquainted with our grief. He will help you if you ask. I shall pray for you my friend” Titus merely nodded and cried silent tears as he stared at the floor. Morganis stayed and administered comfort from just his presence.
Roland led the others through a series of rooms. Finally they came to a room that was bare except for a single brazier that burned lazily. The room was walled with brick. Above the brazier hung the words
“Five anointed of the Hammer came before him. His death bed sermon shall reveal the way”. Utah looked at Roland “So what does that mean?” Roland moved towards the wall behind the brazier. Roland began to count the bricks “When he was dying Krovian the 6th high priest of Vatan called for a monk. Krovian dictated a small message to his clergy that served under him. Then he spoke these words. Six and Ten a door of Blood and Smoke” Again Utah asked “So what does that mean?” As Roland spoke he took a dagger and sliced his palm open twice “Krovian was a transplanted priest from Ossoria. In the old country it was customary for a traveler to anoint the door post of his home with blood for a safe journey.”
Roland traced a door in blood. He then stoked the brazier and poured some water on it. As smoke hit the wall with the painted door the brick dissolved and a doorway appeared. August who had been silent let out a low whistle. Utah peered in “Brother of a bastich Rols this is heavy. Let’s see what the next room is.” “No” Roland replied “I have trouble stopping once I find the next puzzle and we need to get the caravan settled and the base camp set up.”
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