CrusadeDave's Story Hour: (Chapter 1.3 Updated 1/6)

Foreword:

I came to EN World about 4 years ago. I had recently moved across country, gotten married, and decided I wanted to look for a D+D group. I went to the Gamers seeking Gamers forum, replied to a post, and joined a group that met about once a month.

But I wasn’t satisfied.

So I logged into EN World, and found another game. We played every week. Aborted a run through City of the Spider Queen after 2 TPK’s. Ran through RttToEE.

But I still wasn’t satisfied.

So I started DM-ing another campaign. My first DM duties since college. I recruited my wife, a first time gamer, and a few friends and crafted a campaign in Faerun that we are still playing through. Although using some pretty standard WotC d20 modules, I judiciously borrowed ideas, plot turns, and NPC’s from Story Hours I had read on EN World, learning from the adventures that Piratecat, (contact), DocMidnight, JollyDoc, and others had crafted.

But I still wasn’t satisfied.

So I started taking detailed notes while playing and compiling detailed notes of our gaming sessions, perhaps one day feeling confident enough in my writing for public display.

I’m still not satisfied, but I’m getting there.

Special thanks and acknowledgements go to: All the module writers whose work I ran to create this story, the multiple wonderful Story Hours here, that I can hope to approach, the players and DM’s in games I’ve played in, and my players in this campaign.

So what is this Story Hour About?

An Apple Pie festival, A Kobold Dragon egg finder, an all too familiar Moathouse outside of Hommlet, Zhentarim politics revolving around the return of Bane, a malevolent force attempting to cull all Druids from Faerun, a terrible plague that causes the unborn to be soulless, an undead Horde of unspeakable power coming from within the Underdark, a plot to disconnect the very Outer Rim from the Prime Material Plane, an unspeakable power from an ancient age, attempting to consume the multiverse into nothingness, and the small bundle of heroes that were bound by fate to try to stop it all.

Or fail. Badly.

Most of you are familiar with the modules I have run, am running, and will run in this campaign. Hopefully you’ll appreciate the setup I used in tying them all together. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy reading much more than I’ve had writing. Whoever told me that “It is much better to have written, than to write”, was very, very right.

Off to Oakhurst, and then Hommlet, and then…well, you’ll see.

Structure

Let me add a few notes about the structure of the campaign and this story hour.

This campaign is played by the 3.5 ruleset contained in the SRD. As the SRD is updated, so are the rules. No splatbooks were allowed, as the players felt they had a better chance surviving the smaller the ruleset used. Player Characters were built with a 32 point buy and have standard equipment. New characters brought in, due to death, or new players come into the game at 1 level below the lowest party member using the base treasure and XP. XP is granted upon 8 hours' rest.

This campaign is set in the Forgotten Realms. I am but a novice when it comes to Realmslore, but felt most comfortable in this world. Mostly the setting is used for flavor. One of my players is a Living Greyhawk encyclopedia, so I felt I needed a setting where I knew at least as much as he.

I keep a pretty tight ship on dates and times, in my logs and hope to pass that on to the story hour. In addition, when someone levels up, I'll let you know, as I like a little nuts and bolts interspersed within the story, myself.

As more questions come up, I'll try to keep this message updated as to the mechanics.

Take care, and have fun reading.

Prologue

Prologue - How about a Nice Game of Chess?

Crusade slowly unlatched the clasp on his tunic, and fingered a solitary chain around his neck. Pulling it forward, he handled a single Red Chess Piece. Thirty years ago today he had personally carved the Knight from the remains of a very special Oak Tree. Holding it up in front of him, he summoned Divine Energy to flow from him, unlocking the holy barrier guarding Crusade’s personal chapel dedicated to his beloved Lady of Strategy. With a resigned smile, the Aasimar entered.

It was an unusually small and simple chapel, circular shaped and lit from the top with a divine source of light. Bookshelves full of maps and campaign notes covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Flanked by two lone chairs, a small square marble altar sat in the center of the room, engraved with a red and white checker pattern. Placed on the altar were a book, a rod, and box. Taking a seat in one of the two chairs, Crusade fingered the Rod, took a slow, deep breath, and activated it. Opposite Crusade in the room, a purple flash lit the room as dimensional barriers twisted and ruptured. Concentrating on his target, Crusade Gated in a familiar face, on this, the holiest of days for the Red Knight.

While it was an odd use of a Gate, it was by no means uncommon in the highest pinnacle of this Castle. Protected from scrying eyes in his Keep, the Holy Warrior Crusade greeted his guest with a warm smile. A lone Solar strode through the dimensional portal, having been called through the Gate by the device of his own making. Immediately taking a seat, the Solar waited for Crusade to continue the well-rehearsed ritual.

Slowly Crusade opened the ornate box on the Altar, using his gold-scaled fingers, and began removing the well-worn LanceBoard pieces, arranging the pieces on the board in their prescribed positions. Smiling, the Celestial Lord spoke to the half-dragon, “It does pain me that you were unable to join your comrades this year at the Tournament.”

Crusade responded with a nod, “Quite so, Anor’ison. Once again, I defer the white pieces to you.”

Slowly the game progressed. As usual, the Solar began to slowly overpower the human, as would be expected. On Turn 50, after winning a pawn and keeping his superior position, the Solar broke the two-hour silence by beginning a conversation.

“Crusade, I believe I may have some tidings that give us hope.” At this the overmatched Red King was tipped down to one side, beaten once again.

For some time, the Solar relayed information to Crusade, until finally the Chosen of the Red Knight was able to reflect on some small piece of information.

“That name is unfamiliar to me.”

“Yes. Crusade, that name will not be familiar to any in the Prime, nor many outside of it. However, this may provide you with an opportunity. Or more appropriately, a campaign to begin against your enemy.”

Crusade pondered these words. “A chance to bring balance to my faith, Anor’ison.” A deep pause. “Thank you, both for the game, and the information. I will investigate this and begin preparations at once.”

Anor’ison smiled at his student, handled the rod used to summon him here and focused his energy back into the spent item, recharging it for its next use. Then, opening up a Gate for himself, Anor’ison silently shook Crusade’s hand.

Crusade released his grip of the bright red hand of the Solar, and watched his mentor return to his new home plane. Slowly he put away the LanceBoard pieces one at a time, finishing last with the two Red Knights. Closing the box, he knelt at the altar, and prayed to his Goddess, finishing with a simple, yet oft-repeated plea: “Please, Beloved Lady of Strategy, do not go where I cannot follow.”

Drawing forth his Holy Symbol, negative energy parted the barrier protecting his inner sanctum. With a single tear from his left eye, Crusade, the last Blackguard of the Red Knight, left his chapel.

Chapter 1:

Chapter 1: Decent into the Sunless Citadel

Part 1 - The Gong, his Thief, their Druid and her Wolf

While the Birthless Plague was a worldwide stain on Lathander’s reputation, it was not the sole cause of pain for Lyryn, Dawn Bringer of the Morning Lord.

Pel was the shame of the Church of Lathander in Baldur’s Gate. In fact, it was often thought that Pel’s bumbling manner was the sole purpose in the lack of growth of the Morninglord’s worship. Pel was loud, obnoxious, aloof, blunt, smelled, and naïve, in short, everything you would expect of a drunk priest. Lyryn shuddered to think what alcohol would do in Pel’s system.

But today was going to be a good day for the Light in Baldur’s Gate. Today, Lyryn, the chief priest of Lathander in Baldur’s Gate had a piddlely mission for Pel that would take him outside the city limits. Little did Pel know, but Lyryn would kindly ask the City Guards to bar him from ever returning. Normally sending a Cleric out on a mission of the church involved a formal meeting, and a blessing.

Lyryn had one of the Acolytes slip a note under Pel’s door.

"Brother Issar,

It has come to my attention that one of our young Paladins, Bradford of Hommlet, has gone missing. Kerowyn Hucrele, the local baker, hired him out as an escort in the town of Oakhurst. You are to go to Oakhurst, meet with Mrs. Hucrele as well as our local Cleric, Dem Nackle, and determine the whereabouts of Bradford, as our attempts of divination and scrying have proven surprisingly unsuccessful.

Before leaving, you are to pack up your belongings from your room, as you have been reassigned to a new parish up North in Lonelywood. We will ship your personal affects ahead for you. Also, we need you out before dawn, as we have already designated your room for another.

Upon departure you are to report to the nearest precinct of the Flaming Fist, and request a hired hand. Have it billed to Kerowyn Hucrele of “Hucrele and Hucrele Fine Baked Goods”.

Please send notice upon successful completion of your mission by post, and then head to your new parish at once. Good Luck.

Lyryn

P.S. Please do not announce yourself openly as a Cleric of Lathander to residents of Oakhurst. Dem Nackle is very territorial. Thanks."

Two hours before dawn, Pel’s room was empty. Upon the shut of the main door of the Abbey, a hushed whispering began, in case Pel returned. By noon that day the Temple was in full celebration, anticipating a reversal of fortunes in town.

The noise of the revelry spilled outside the walls as two rival priests of Umberlee walked by. “I wasn’t aware this was a special holiday of Lathander.”

A shrug was the only response the elder priest could give his student.

Pel: Human Cleric of Lathander (Healing, Sun) NG
Str 18, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8.
Weapon Proficiency: Spiked Chain, Weapon Focus: Spiked Chain

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Jonny the Fish was a dead man.

Kiernan sighed. His first job for the guild had gone wrong, not of his own doing, and he was now sitting in the eastern station of the Flaming Fist Mercenaries, waiting to be assigned to a prison cell.

It was supposed to be simple. “Stand on the eastern side of the dock and act as a lookout as the shipment came in” he was told. Little did Jonny expect that the entire cargo run was a setup by the local law. Little did Kiernan expect that the local law could be so easily bribed and that he could be fingered as a king of a smuggling ring.

Yet things were as they were.

Kiernan was looking for a diversion when suddenly a rather large one strode into the room wearing the clerical robes of Lathander and bellowed with a rather haughty voice.

“I demand to see to Log Officer!”

Kiernan recoiled as the dyne made the local sheriffs seem orderly.

After a few minutes of listening to a rather obstinate conversation, the log officer picked up his book and filed away an invoice for the Hucrele Bakers and started looking up and down his the current roster.

“Confound it! I don’t have any men to spare to send off on expeditions. Twenty years ago was different, before the plague, but I need all the men I can get.”

Kiernan seized his opportunity with a perfect bluff. Slowly moving over from the line of prisoners to the desk he whispered, “Excuse me, I’m not much of a man, but I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Kiernan. Signed up yesterday, been waiting for something to do all day.”

The log officer looked up and sized up this new voice. This kid was not equipped at all and looked like he’d been dragged up the street. “Weren’t you supposed to go through basic training and equipping?”

“Yes, but I got sent over here for processing. I was told my paperwork got lost and you were you supposed to redo it.”

Just what the log officer needed, paperwork. Well, to heck with that. "’kay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go along with Pel here, and what’s your name again?”

“Kiernan.”

“Alright, Kiernan, and when you get back we’ll have a chance to redo your paperwork.”

Kiernan (?): Human Rogue of mysterious background CG
Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 10.
Weapon Finesse, Dodge

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Xana had been a good student. Well studied in all the ways of the forest, she was comfortable with all manners of forest life, be it plant or animal. She could defend herself well enough, even without the companionship of Nailo, her wolf, and she had a great breath of skill, be it in wilderness survival, knowledge of nature, spellcraft, or the training of animals. As a young wood elf, the Cloak Wood was all she had known.

And Dydd’ison was her teacher. He was an elderly Druid, and scarcely spoke direct to her, instead passing messages to her through the wind or the birds, but 2 days ago he sent for her to come to his home and Xana knew that all was not well. She walked in his sleeping quarters and awoke him with her entrance.

They did not speak very long, Dydd’ison was very old, and weak. His time within the circle of life was almost complete and he spoke very slowly.

“Xana, your lessons are all but complete. Your last task is to find one of our members who has left us. His name is Belak, gone 8 years to the town of Oakhurst. The spirits have indicated to me that we must account for him at this time.”

“You are to set to this task. Now. The Spirits will guide you beyond, if you listen. Farewell.”

Xana departed by giving Dydd’ison a kiss as he fell asleep. 2 days later as Xana passed from the boundaries of the Cloak Wood she felt him die. After 4 days travel in the hills south of Baldur’s Gate, in a slight drizzle, Xana was set upon by 3 bandits seeking a toll. Nailo made short work of them as Xana disarmed their prone bodies and made sure none of them bled to death, while lightening their purse of other tolls they had taken from travelers.

The rain finally let up when she came within site of Oakhurst. Xana strode in to Oakhurst at night before noon on 1 Mirtul, in the Year of Rogue Dragons. After talking to some of the town merchants at the local farmer’s market, she was no closer to determining the location of Belak.

She walked in a store called Hucrele and Hucrele’s baked goods. And began talking to the female baker, Kerowyn. The only information she gleaned was that the barkeep at the inn, Garon, was older than even the beer he served, and if anyone could remember a face it was Garon.

Xana: Elven Druid of Very Little Experience NG
Str 10, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 12.
Spell Focus: Conjuration

Nailo: Faithful Wolven steed of Xana: N
Str 14, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 8
Weapon Focus: Bite

Chapter 1, Part 2.

Part 2: As Faerunian as Apple Pie.

It had been three days since Kiernan and Pel had left Baldur’s Gate. And Pel was quite quiet. Kiernan had sized him up over the past few days, and he was one thick priest, in more ways than one. In addition to being kind of slow, and non-personable, he might have also had the widest set of shoulders Kiernan had ever seen. Of course, that only made Kiernan more deliberate as he fished through his compatriots pack one night and read the dictum from Lyrnyn.

“Lonelywood? For Lathander?” Kiernan laughed to himself. Other than the prying fingers going through Pel’s gear, Kiernan kept his distance from Pel, trying to get a read for his new acquaintance. Upon entering a small town listed as Oakhurst, the pair strode straight to the one upkept store in town, “Hucrele and Hucrele Fine Baked Goods.” Outside was a Grey Wolf sitting at attention.

“’ey, ‘dere little dawgie.” The massive cleric was about to pet the wolf, when a call from inside the store called out, “Here, Nailo.”

The Cleric and Rogue walked into the store as the slender female Elf was beginning to walk back from the counter. As her conversation ended, she stopped to listen to a new one.

Mrs. Hucrele was well put off by the boisterous and obnoxious Cleric sent to her for her quest. Kiernan laughed at a tale about a magic goblin apple due to be made into a pie that was to be auctioned off in a fortnight. Bidders were coming in from Amn to Sembia, to bid on a magic pie that could heal any affliction.

“You understand that I’ve just opened stores in Silverymoon and Waterdeep. If I don’t deliver on the magic pie this year, I’ll be ruined. The Goblins always sell it to the town on the first day of spring, ripe as a normal apple would be in autumn. We send down a few representatives of the town guard, local church, and my workers to buy it from them. Last year, I tried to plant the seeds from the apple but the Goblins must have cut the sapling down in the middle of the night. Well, the goblins didn’t show up on the day they were supposed to, or the next few, for that matter. So we sent one member of the town guard, the Acolyte from the Church, and two of my hands here to go look for it down by the canyon, where we think the goblins come from. I’ll give you 100 gold for each apple, and 50 gold for either the return of my two men, or their two signet rings. If you need to know any more about the canyon, old Garon at the Inn knows all the old stories better than me.”

So in two groups the Cleric and Rogue, Wolf and Druid crossed the street to talk to Garon. He was older than his beer, barely. He remembered a few old stories about an old citadel being under the canyon, but he didn’t remember anyone named Belak.

Pel opened his big fat mouth. “Well, he probably would have smelled a bit. And had a habit of bringing pets into the bar.” Only Pel would laugh at that joke. And it was his own. So he did.

Garon thought, “Wait a minute, I don’t remember a name, but I remember a dark guy, didn’t say much, but he had a Giant Frog, and if I remember, he asked some questions about that canyon a few years back. I swear that frog would’ve eaten birds instead of flies. The size of that tongue…”

Xana’s eyes opened wide. Belak had a pet frog, similar to her wolf. She hadn’t thought anything of it. “Thank you sir, thank you very much.” Turning to the humans on her side of the bar, “I suppose then that our paths lay together for a while. Could I accompany you on your search for apples, while I seek my old clansman, Belak.”

Pel bellowed, “Sure you can, little lady. But as this is your first time adventuring, we’ll have to go over the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Sure, there are rules for adventuring, written by the great adventurer, Heydricus.“

Kiernan sighed as Pel continued.

“One, Call for healing when you need it.”

“Kiernan muttered over his shoulder, “I’m going to the store to get some more supplies, I’ll meet you two by the town well.”

“Two, Stay away from anything that glows until you know what it does.”

Xana, wide-eyed, was trapped, and began walking out into the town square, while trying to hush Nailo.

“Three, Never split the party.”

Just how many rules were there?

“Four, Take it one level at a time, kill everything, then move on.”

“Five…

[For more rules, please read the adventures of the Liberators of Tenh, written by (contact) ]

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Kiernan was surprised that the small church of Lathander in town was run by a Gnome named Del Neckle, the only non-human he’d seen so far. Perhaps that’s why he seemed so un-Gnomish.

“You better watch out if you go down to that canyon, It’s dangerous down there. Already lost 4 townsfolk looking for that apple already. Don’t want to see any more wasted.”

Kiernan had imitated that he was going to check out the Canyon, and found that the Gnome acted somewhat normal. Having sneaked a peek at Pel’s letter while he slept a few days ago, Kiernan wondered if he was supposed to be wary of this local priest. More likely his gut told him that the church didn’t want Pel to embarrass Lathander by acting openly. Lonelywood sure was a barren place. Not more than a few shacks on the wrong side of a Glacier from what he’d heard.

“Thanks. I’ll be careful, and make sure I’ve got some good friends.”

“I wouldn’t go walking out that door yet. Your shoes are untied.” The Gnome was unable to hide a smirk.

“Here, I thought I was wearing boots. See you later.”

With a nod, the Cleric watched the young Rogue leave the church, meet up with some elvish girl and a wolf, and a big strapping fighter. He wondered when the church would send him some help to look for his missing Paladin.

Part 3: Only idots confuse Wolves and Dogs.

The party set out at noon from Oakhurst, following the old road southwest. At just about sunset they noticed that it was about to dead end into a canyon some five miles hence. “We should set camp,” Kiernan said as he turned to Xana.

A small fire was started half way up the base of a hill on the downwind side of the road. A larger hill was down wind from them, to give the fire’s smoke more cover.

The watch rotation was set, but on the first watch, Kiernan heard something moving in the night, like leaves on grass. Waking Xana from her meditation he pointed, downhill. He then woke Pel who was dreaming about eggs and bacon, “What….. is it Breakfast time?”

“Shhhhh… there’s something out there. “ Xana pointed to two bush like figures moving towards them, as she took out her sling and fired, knocking what looked like a twig off the moving bush.

The bushes increased their speed, as Pel grabbed his spiked chain and charged the first bush. With a mighty swing he cut the Tree Blight down to little more than a bound faggot of firewood. As the second ran at Pel to avenge his fallen brother, it too joined the kindling pile, cleaved in two.

Kiernan looked over the fallen shrubs. “What are these?”

“Like no plant I have ever seen, they are unnatural.” offered the elven druid.

“And evil. Let’s burn them.” added Pel, and for the first time all day the party agreed with the large Cleric.

As they added the Tree Blights to the fire, a noxious smoke started to rise from fire, causing them all to start coughing and wheezing.

“What is that stench?”

Kiernan looked intently at the fire (from a safe distance) as he saw the tree sap bubble and steam away. Now if he could just find some more of these, he thought to himself, he would have a ready supply of poison.


The next day, at sunrise, the three adventurers walked to where the road ended at the canyon. They discovered some old campfire spots that were concealed.Tied to some wooden posts, covered with graffiti, was a single knotted rope.

Peering over the side, Xana could see a platform, and the beginnings of a stair. Pel started pulling on the rope, testing its strength. “I’ll go down first, and carry your little puppy.”

“My WOLF’s name is Nailo” as Xana coaxed Nailo to stay in Pel’s burly arms while he used one hand to crawl down the knotted rope.

Kiernan and Xana waited patiently until they heard the sounds of a <thump> and a howl by Nailo. Kiernan jumped at the rope, and half way down he heard a “What’s That?” from the Cleric and then the swing of his mighty chain.

By the time Kiernan, or for that matter Xana, climbed down, two Dire Rats were plastered against the wall, one was bitten in two. Pel took the time to use some of his most basic spells to heal the minor damage the rat did.

Kiernan lit a torch and lead the way down the switch back stairs. It dead-ended on what seemed to be a sunken battlement of a felled castle that had plunged into the canyon. Walking forward, Kiernan dodged out of the way as he rolled to the side of a pit trap.

“Think. I should be more careful.”

Looking down into the pit, Kiernan could see three goblin corpses, and a dire rat munching on the fresh one. Attached to the fresh corpse was a Belt Pouch. Drawing his rapier, Kiernan jumped down at the Dire Rat, but his stroke fell wide. The rat missed his lunge in return, but Xana drilled it with a Bullet from her sling. Again Kiernan and the Rat traded misses, and again Xana bulls-eyed it, this time dropping the rat. Kiernan grabbed the pouch and the coins within and climbed out.

Pel laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Kiernan demanded.

“Why’dya jump all the way down there when you got your bow?”


Going through the door, carefully this time, the party entered a circular room with a corridor to the north and two doors to the west. Upon further discovery Kiernan discovered a secret door, and upon careful examination, discovered and disabled a nasty trap in front of it. Nailo kept sniffing down the corridor to the North, and as they walked into the next room, discovered some fresh human sized tracks not more than 2 weeks old leading both into another door north and back south.

“Which way?” asked the hulkish Cleric. “The secret door,” answered the druid and rogue in unison.

With that, their attention led back to the secret door to their south. Upon its opening, three slender skeleton’s eyes flared red, as they began to stand up. Immediately attacked by three skeletons, Kiernan tumbled backwards to avoid being flanked. Xana brandished her club and whacked at the nearest skeleton with little result. Nailo started to attack the nearest skeleton, but cowered just as she was about to strike. Pel brandished his holy symbol and called for Lathander’s light to shine, but the turning failed to affect the Skeletons.

Kiernan poked a skeleton with his rapier, but he was unable to do any damage. Xana’s club knocked one of the skeleton’s arms off, but it retaliated by taking a swipe at Nailo and cutting the wolf. Again Pel attempted to banish the skeletons from the light of Lathander, and again he failed.

Kiernan tumbled to get into better position, and Xana missed with her latest club shot. Luckily, most of the skeletons missed as they advanced on the party, but one sliced Xana in the neck, almost doing critical damage.

Finally, Pel called on the power of Lathander’s Sun to banish these undead from the world of the living. The three skeletons crumbled and turned to ash.

Xana called Nailo next to hear as she cast a healing spell on herself, bringing them both to full health. Kiernan picked through the skeleton’s remains for coins as he cursed the Cleric’s uselessness. Weren’t priests supposed to be able to handle skeletons. Pel looked at the two doors in the room, while Nailo kept sniffing to the passageway to the north.

Good start.

I like your style, very accessible.

Looking forward to more.

Dirge

BLACKDIRGE said:

Good start.

I like your style, very accessible.

Looking forward to more.

Dirge

Click to expand...

Thanks for the compliment. I don't have really good dialogue notes for the Sunless Citadel sessions, but once we get past there, things should pick up on the characterization side. So hang with me. I'll get in a rhythm eventually, and things do get better. Or worse depending on your perspective.

BTW, Pyrak lives.