Campaign of DM Cthulu Ftaghn

[cthuluftaghn]

Hail,

I am proud to announce the publication of my new website. It is dedicated to my Dungeons & Dragons 3E campaign through the Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, by Monte Cook.

You can visit my site here.

The "Characters" page gives full introductions for each of the PC's in the campaign... be they alive or dead.

The "World" page gives detailed descriptions and pictures of every NPC, monster, and location that the PC's have encountered so far.

The "Tales" page is where you can find the up-to-date journal of our adventures.

Be sure to check out the rest of the site as well, including a comprehensive list of links to dozens of d20 publishing companies, custom-made interactive maps for use with the adventure, and more!

I'll start posting the material from my campaign journal below, in small sections.

 

[cthuluftaghn]

Character 1: Willow

Here is the first character description out of 7 that are taking part in my campaign. I will post one per day, and then I will start posting the actual adventure journal. I hope you enjoy it!

WILLOW : Female Drd (4) – After many peaceful months of rest and relaxation, Willow awoke in the pre-dawn hours and slipped silently out of her bed. She stoked the fire to take the morning chill out of the house, and then headed outdoors for some quiet time alone.

Willow carried last week’s bed linens down to the stream and began scrubbing them against the washing stones at a leisurely pace, enjoying the solitude and the sparkling Spring sunrise, watching the light twinkle in the dew. Upon finishing her chore, Willow piled the damp sheets back into her basket and went for a brief walk in the forest in front of her home. She figured she still had some time before her family started to stir from their beds.

Gazing at the trees as she walked, the druid reflected on her past adventures and wondered if maybe it was time to just settle down and enjoy this new life she had made for herself. Her daydream was interrupted by the cackle and caw of a raven overhead. “Better get back home,” she thought to herself. Willow quickened her pace and headed back to the stream. As she approached, it was apparent that her laundry had been tampered with. “Silly squirrels,” she called out playfully toward the trees. “No caba nuts for you today!” she chuckled.

Willow grabbed her linen basket and headed to her back yard where she could hang the sheets in the rising morning sun. She tossed the first cloth over the line and froze. It wasn’t a squirrel that had tampered with her laundry. A single word, scrawled in crude charcoal letters across her newborn’s receiving blanket, stared at her as it hung limply from her clothesline. “Hommlet.” Beneath the lettering was the blood-red imprint of an eagle’s claw.

Willow grabbed the blanket off of the line and walked into her house, directly to her bedchamber. Without a word, she quickly and quietly reached under the bed where her sleeping husband still snored (and smiled from last night’s pleasures), and she shouldered a pack that had been left untouched for almost a year. She then moved across the room to look in on her slumbering child. A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned and walked away.

Her resolve strengthening by the moment, Willow marched out the door, pausing only to throw the receiving blanket into the fireplace. She headed out the garden gate and towards the distant road. As she reached the hilltop, she stopped only once to look back. With a final sigh of resignation, Willow plucked a fresh sprig of mistletoe from near the fence on the grassy knoll, and began the long journey to Hommlet.

 

[Gann Tolar]

I play the character Gann Tolar in DM Cthulu's Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil campaign. So far I'm proud to say I've survived one action-packed gaming session and I'm looking forward to the next. For fans of story hours such as Wulf Ratbane's, check back on this thread frequently ... DM Cthulu has some great stuff in store for us!

 

[Jodo Kast]

BUMP!

 

[cthuluftaghn]

Character 2: Davok

Davok : Male Bar(4) – Davok is a simple man with simple needs. Actually, he has one very basic simple need. Food. Not the brightest tinder in the fire, but strong as two oxes, he’s a valuable member of any hunting party. Davok was sitting in his hunting camp doing what he does best. Eating.

The night air was chilly this far north, but Davok’s great bulk kept him warm, even this far away from the campfire. Not much for conversation, the mighty barbarian often found himself sitting apart from the others. Left alone with his thoughts… few and far between as they may be… and his mutton, he was content.

This was a particularly eventful expedition for Davok and his fellow tribesmen, as was evidenced by the loaded wagon at the back of the camp. It was Spring, and time to repair the damages of the past Winter, and to start preparing for the Winter to come. Already, the mighty hunters had gathered more than enough hides to meet their needs. Not only that, they had cleared out a clan of bugbears that could have posed a serious threat to the tribe! That battle was a tremendous success thanks to the fighting prowess of the mighty Davok.

The barbarian warrior finished his late dinner (which is the meal that follows mid-dinner and early-dinner), and shuffled over to his bedroll for some much needed sleep. He had just settled down when a piercing shriek shattered the silence of the night. Davok sat bolt upright. That was the cry of an eagle!

Davok grabbed his weapon and charged through the woods. The other members of the hunting party were on their feet as well. The men headed in the direction from which the noise came until they entered a small clearing, glowing with a dim light from an unseen source. It was the tree at the back of the bare patch of forest that caught Davok’s eye. On the pale bark of the wide trunk, the silhouette of a spread-winged eagle had been painted in still-fresh blood.

The rest of the hunters were quite alarmed at this omen, but Davok was frantic. His attention was focused on the strange symbols scrawled beneath the crude painting. “Wiseman!” he called. “Where is the wiseman?!” He knew the symbols had great significance, but he couldn’t decipher their meaning.

“I am here, great warrior. Fear not!” said the wiseman as he entered the clearing. “What is all the worry for?”

“What are these markings, wiseman? What do they mean? I must know what these mean!” Davok pointed to the tree, his huge arms rippling with tension. “NOW, wiseman, what do they mean?”

“Be calm, large one. These are no symbols of great mystical importance. It is simply a word in the common tongue. It reads, ‘Hommlet’. It means nothing. I believe it’s nothing more than an insignificant village to the south. Some rather interesting points about it, though, as I recall. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning if it will make you feel better. Now stop troubling yourself and go back to… where did Davok go?”

Davok heard nothing beyond the word “Hommlet.” He was already half a mile away, heading toward the distant village by the time his fellow tribesmen realized he was gone.

 

[cthuluftaghn]

Character 3: Tas

Tas: Rog(4) – Tas was having a bad day. He was now fleeing from the third person, in less than two hours, who wanted to cut his throat. This time, he wasn’t running from a pompous nobleman who was more worried about dirtying his shoes than catching the thief (always an easy escape). Tas was currently being pursued by a skilled Paladin of Pelor who was very upset about losing a prize gemmed dagger, blessed by his god.

As he darted amongst pedestrian traffic… tipping over carts, barrels and crates, and causing a general uproar along the way… the halfing was thinking that this was NOT the way to make a living. This life of petty thievery was somehow not meeting up to Tas’s standards of fortune and glory. His depressed mood was punctuated as he landed in a pile of manure while hurdling a mule being led to the market.

A few twists, jumps and backtracks later, Tas was free from his pursuer. He was never worried, he always got away, but this routine was getting old. This was nothing like the life of high adventure he had with the Order of the Eagle. Sure, they were a bunch of self-righteous goody goodies, but at least he had a purpose when he traveled with them. Tas sighed with discontent as he climbed up the drainpipe that led to his dingy hidden loft in the city’s river borough.

Tas entered his home through the open window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the door. The latch and hinges were probably rusted beyond use. The halfling casually tossed his pouches down on his bedroll, and grabbed a hunk of stale bread left over from breakfast. He took a large bite, and settled in to examine the day’s booty.

First, he’d count the cash. Tas wondered, with a dark chuckle, if the poor merchant even knew it was missing yet. “Stupid fat slob”, the halfling thought to himself as he shook the bag. “Half the marketplace yelling ‘stop thief!’ and he hadn’t the slightest idea that he was my mark. And he was the loudest among them!” The coins rolled over each other in the sack with a light jingle, not the deep jangle of gold. The skilled rogue knew that there was a significant difference between a light jingle and a deep jangle. Tas tore the bag open excitedly. “Platinum!” he squawked, and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. “More than enough to finally pay off my crossbow!” Maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all!

The second “treasure” of the day wasn’t quite as impressive. After following her for more than an hour, Tas had thought for sure that he saw his mark place a rare jade statuette into her pouch. It was the very same pouch that he now held in his lap. As it turned out, the item was nothing more than a child’s toy, carved out of green soapstone. Disappointed, Tas added the figurine to the ledge above his bedroll. The makeshift shelf was already littered with dozens of similar “rare statuettes” that held a street value equal to that of a half-eaten chunk of bitter cheese.

“Now, for the big catch!” Tas said out loud to the empty loft. He reached into his inner pocket to retrieve the blessed dagger that had caused him so much trouble, and such stinky shoes. As the thief moved his prize into view, he recoiled and dropped it. “That’s not my dagger!” he yelled, angry at this turn of fate. The object that lay before him was most assuredly not a holy weapon of Pelor.

Tas reached down and picked up the eagle talon he had dropped. The razor sharp claw was capped by a small piece of cork, onto which the word “Hommlet” was deeply scratched. The dark-hearted rogue actually felt a slight glimmer of excitement course through his veins. He finally had an excuse, and the means, to get out of this flea-hole and seek out some real fortune and glory! It was then that he noticed something wasn’t quite right. The talon hadn’t been shed as a part of a healthy eagle’s regular molting cycle. This claw was still attached to the bloody severed stump of the mighty bird’s toe, from which it was violently torn.

 

[Jodo Kast]

What do we want? GANN TOLAR! When do we want him? NOW!

 

[cthuluftaghn]

Character 4: Endora

A wise GM once told me, if you post just one tidbit each day, you'll have them frothing at the mouths wanting more. So... in the interest of quality frothage.... here, in place of the Gann Tolar character lead-in, is Endora!

Endora : Female Pal(4) - The month of Coldeven was synonymous with hard manual labor for the young paladins and acolytes at the Temple of Heironeous. At the first sign of springtime, the elder clerics started fussing about the condition of the temple grounds and gardens. For Endora, that meant endless hours of weeding and tilling. “How does THIS bring glory to the name of Heironeous!?” she lamented as she scraped dirt from under her fingernails.

Things had been quiet and peaceful at the temple for quite some time now. While the importance of constant vigilance and reverence was stressed daily by the elder clerics, the attitude simply wasn’t being felt by the underlings. Being holed up within the temple walls for months at a time took all the excitement away from being a holy warrior. Endora yearned to be out in the world smiting evil with her mighty longsword in the name of Heironeous! Her dreams crashed down into reality as she swatted a mosquito with the flat of her garden shovel. “I smite thee, evil bug”, she said half-heartedly. In Endora’s imagination, the insect rose up as a monstrous six-legged undead blood-sucking terror for her to defeat in glorious battle! On Endora’s forearm, it stayed squashed and dead.

The familiar kerrRRANG of the dinner bell woke the young paladin from her daydream. Finally, she could clean off this filth and get dressed up in her shining armor for dinner and vespers. The cold steel against her breast went a long way in making Endora feel better about her station here at the temple. As she picked up her tools and headed for the garden shed, another familiar noise assailed her eardrums and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. An eagle, and a large one by the sound of it, had cried out from the northern end of the garden.

Endora dropped her tools in the dirt and sprinted across the stepping-stones. At last, a call to service! This could finally be her big chance to prove her worthiness in the service of her god. With that thought in mind, Endora added a bit more spring to her step as she rushed into the small grove of trees planted by the clerics of days gone by.

Endora searched feverishly from branch to branch for the object that she knew she must find. A small leather bag, containing a highly polished eagle-eye gemstone, was the calling card of her earthly mentor. He was a kind and generous nobleman known only as The Eagle. The paladin had never met The Eagle face to face. In fact, none of her adventuring companions had. However, his heart was kind and his mission was clear… smite evil at its source! Endora found it an honor to fight under his command, for the glory of Heironeous. It had been nearly a year since she had parted company with the Order of the Eagle to study and train at the temple. For Endora, the Eagle’s summons was long overdue!

The woman’s hair brushed against something as she ducked under a low branch. “There it is!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper… not wanting the others to notice that she wasn’t obediently answering the dinner call. Endora reached up and untied the tiny leather fastener from the branch and opened the pouch. She pulled out the rolled up parchment inside and saw the word “Hommlet” written in black ink. That’s all she needed to see. Endora bolted for her bedchamber to prepare for travel on the open road.

When Endora got to her room, she tossed the pouch down on her pallet and started packing. Hommlet was several days away, and she dreaded the thought of being the last one of the Order to arrive. She would leave tonight! The young paladin could barely contain her excitement as she fastened the final clasp of her shimmering breastplate.

After strapping her sword belt around her slender waist with pride, Endora picked the pouch up from her bed. She had a growing collection of eagle-eye gems stored in her keepsake box underneath a floorboard in her room. Bending to one knee, Endora reached down and slid the box out from its hiding place and opened the lid. Once again untying the leather fastener, she overturned the pouch into the box to add her newest gem to her collection. The contents landed among the small pile of stones with a wet splat.

Endora jolted upright, quickly and in shock. With minor trepidation, she bent down for a closer look at what had fallen out of the bag. Reaching into the box, she gingerly removed what she determined to be a very real, still-bloody eye that had been cut from the head of a giant eagle.

Endora was out the door and on her way to Hommlet in a flash, not even thinking to hide her valuable personal possessions back under the floorboard.

 

[Jodo Kast]

Aaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh!

 

[Malessa]

Character 5: Gann Tolar

NOTE: I was accidentally logged in on my wife's account when I posted this. It's really me... Cthulu... honest!

Alright... it's after midnight, so technically it's a new day. All the regular members of the Order of the Eagle have been listed. So, I guess it's time to step outside the Order. This version of the Gann Tolar write-up varies only slightly from what is posted on my website. What follows has been edited for the novel that will be written for our campaign...

Gann Tolar: Male Clr(2)/Ftr(1)/Rog(1) – Gann Tolar was crouched low among the bushes… again. Gann seemed to be spending a lot of time crouched in bushes lately. Usually they had prickers on them, or else they were infested with biting ants. This particular clump of bushes, however, was of a pleasant leafy variety of evergreen dwarf shrubs. No ants. Gann was thinking that if he had to be crouched among bushes, this was definitely a prime choice of shrubbery.

The uncharacteristically lighthearted musing was quickly erased from the vengeful cleric’s thoughts as he caught sight of his quarry. Now, only one thought dominated Gann’s mind. “This demon-spawn shall surely die by my hand.” He had been following the traveling party of the man in the ochre colored robes for weeks now, observing him as he made a series shady deals in an effort to collect an impressive stockpile of evil artifacts. “This catalyst of demonic power will not live to see the light of the coming day.”

Gann Tolar watched as the man worked, silently and alone, to finish loading the small wooden wagon. Dozens of bundles, each carefully wrapped in a sheet of canvas, were placed inside. When he was finished, the pile was nearly spilling over the considerable height of the side rails. The man produced a large burlap cloth from a crate which was sitting on the side of the road, and with it he covered up his cumbersome load.

Gann smiled to himself as he watched the evil man grow weary in his labors. The man’s former companions, two human lackeys and a gnoll warrior, were cut down in the night by the stealthy cleric of St. Cuthbert. Now, the man was working feverishly to finish his task and get moving away from this place of death. Gann alone knew that it was a journey the man would never make. Once this demon-loving wizard of the abyss was slain, Gann would take the wagon back to the church for the high clerics to examine. For now, the killing blow could wait until the hard labor was done.

The sound of hoof beats, unexpectedly close, set Gann on alert. The evil man looked fearful, and he hiked up his robes as he scrambled into the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins. He was about to pull away, when two riders in black appeared out of the darkness to block his path. The night suddenly seemed much darker, and Gann Tolar strained his eyes to see what was happening.

One of the riders, a woman, spoke. “You should already be far from here, Ralinthe. Where are the others?” She sounded angry, and she spoke with astounding authority for one of her small stature.

“Dead,” the man answered with a quiver in his voice. “Killed by an unseen hand in the night.”

“Auurgh!” bellowed the woman. “You have been observed! You worthless fool! The Dark Master has no use for the services of a bungler such as you. Your failure has cost us dearly. Dunrat, destroy this evidence. Another wagon will have to be sent. We cannot risk exposure.” The woman turned her horse and galloped off into the night.

The second figure, presumably the one called Dunrat, dismounted and slowly approached the wagon of the man in the ochre robes. “You don’t have to do this, Master," whined the man. "I can be of service elsewhere. I am forever loyal to you, you know that!”

“I know nothing other than the fact that you are an incompetent fool, Ralinthe. You will serve our Dark Master in a more appropriate capacity in death.” Gann watched as Dunrat pulled a wand from his robe and leveled it at the wagon.

“NO, Master. Noooo. Take me with you to Hommlet. I will serve you well. I swear it! Please, Master. Please take me…..” Ralinthe’s desperate pleading ended abruptly as a ball of flame erupted from the tip of the wand and engulfed the wagon. The blast instantly incinerating the cargo, the driver, and the mule. Gann buried his head in his hands as he watched the object of his toils crumble to ash.

Dunrat mounted his steed and stayed to watch until the last of the flames burned themselves out. In the light of the dying fire, Gann thought he detected a look of sadness in the man’s dark eyes. “Yes, my brother,” the man in black said out loud. “You were quite incompetent.” As he reined in his horse and slowly trotted away, Gann heard him mutter under his breath, “…and you had a big mouth.”

Gann Tolar waited for several moments before he emerged from his hiding place. He stretched and twisted, working out his cramps as he shuffled his way out to the road. Disgusted, he sifted through the cinders of what used to be the wagon, hoping to find anything salvageable to take with him as evidence of the demonic evil he had uncovered. He knew it was hopeless. Nothing remained.

“So,” Gann thought to himself as he glanced down the road. “Demon spawn-boy has a master.” He kicked at the ground where he judged a good-sized pile of what used to be Ralinthe to be laying, and he stirred up a small cloud of ash. “I have no tolerance for evil. You deserved a fate much worse, Ralinthe. May this Dark Master of yours wreak his vengeance on you for your failure. However, I thank you kindly for your big mouth.” Gann headed up the road and to the east. Towards Hommlet.