Rel's Faded Glory II (Thanks Old One) Final Update 7/14


Liquid Awesome
Darklone said:

That seems about right :D

I am really waiting to hear how they got out of there.

There should be one more installment in this battle. I'll get that posted sometime this week. After that there will be a more "roleplay focused" interlude. And then, the climactic battle of the whole campaign. That one will likely be a multi-parter as well.

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Liquid Awesome
Just Completely Buggered

(Before we begin this last - and relatively brief - account of the Battle in the Dark Druid Camp, I'll just mention a quick rules reference. According to the Ability Score Damage rules on page 72 of the DMG, an ability score cannot be reduced below 0. This could be considered somewhat of a boon to Scar and Raven, in that, if scores were allowed to be reduced below 0, they would have Strength scores of -11 and -17 respectively. However, since a Strength of 0 is enough to leave you motionless and helpless on the ground under the force of your own body weight, the fact that they were not in the negatives was fairly cold comfort. With that in mind...)

Time seemed to slow down as every intricate detail of their doom seemed to become its own insurmountable obstacle. Things looked utterly hopeless and each, in his own way, accepted that his death may be at hand.

Scar cast off the magic that held him in bird form and stood up quickly to find a pair of Ogre skeletons looming over him. Raven did the same and came face to face with the she-elf Dark Druid wielding her sickle. She slashed out with it and caught Raven in the throat.

The Dwarf saw the blade slash through the air off to his left, droplets of red trailing after it. He saw a gleeful grin of triumph on the face of the female Dark Druid in front of him. He felt relief as the burdensome weight of his hammer let go his arm. His whole body felt light and his beloved earth came up to embrace him in darkness. His lifeblood began to rapidly soak the ground around him.

The Ogre skeletons rained blows down on Scar with their claw hands. He staggered under them and despair gripped him as he saw the terrible wound that Raven suffered. Looking to the sky, he saw Speaks, in eagle form, turn and alight a short distance away as he resumed human form. Was the human insane? Could he not see that they were going to die here? Clearly Speaks had decided that he would return so they could all die together.

Or perhaps not. The Druid didn't usually think in those terms. Could it be that he really thought that Scar might make it out alive? Well, it would be an insult to the Druid's sacrifice if he didn't at least try. Scar decided to live.

He ran.

Speaks saw Scar bolt back inside the pavillion and hoped that his return might buy the Half-Orc a few precious moments of respite to get away. The Dark Druids turned their ire on Speaks with a vengeance. First, the ball of glistening ice under the command of one of the evil elves came rolling toward him and struck his thigh with chilling impact. Even as he tried to dodge the first, the same Dark Druid summoned another such Snow Ball and sent it at him.

Then came the female Dark Druid who had just dealt Raven such a vicious blow. As she closed in on him, Speaks struck out with his long spear, skewering her shoulder and spoiling her attack. The tiny surge of revenge he felt at that blow was quickly overwhelmed as he saw the Dark Druid leader wave his glowing green rod of evil overhead and send four of the skeletal Ogres to attack him.

Scar found himself dodging between more of the large skeletons and saw that the exit he was angling for was now a gateway through which a dozen or more Gnoll skeletons were pouring through. That way was death. Looking toward the other end of the camp where at least three Dark Druids and four Ogre skeletons tried to kill Speaks, he knew that way was death too. But at least that way his death might be fast and glorious. Better that than having his flesh picked from his bones by the clawed hands of the Gnoll skeletons. He moved back the way he had come.

Speaks return hadn't bought Scar much time, but he had done the best he could. He backpedaled out of reach of the Dark Druid woman and the undead Ogres and took to the air as an eagle once again. He flew like his life depended on it. It did.

The Dark Druids and Ogre skeletons moved toward the northern edge of the encampment, guarding against another feint by Speaks. Their leader glanced back to see if his Gnoll skeletons had killed the Half-Orc yet and saw no sign of him. That was odd...

Scar ran with a grin on his face. He was running for his life or to his death and didn't know which. Either way it was going to be a memorable occasion. He darted through the ruined pavillion and spied the motionless form of Raven lying just outside the opposite entrance. Your hammer hasn't killed its last Dark Druid my brother in arms.

Barely slowing down, Scar scooped Raven's warhammer from where it lay next to his body. His eyes full of murder and with a hammer in each hand, he ran toward the eastern exit of the compound. And woe to he who tried to stop him.

The Dark Druids tried to stop him of course. A pair of them had already taken the form of eagles themselves to pursue Speaks, but their leader remained vigilant. With a wave of his hand, a Wall of Fire sprang up across the exit. His other hand pointed at Scar and his unliving servants closed in on the captive Half-Orc.

Scar's grin kept its place on his face. He kept running as he tucked Raven's hammer under his other arm and then pulled out a potion. As it coated his throat, he felt ice-water running in his veins. With the Ogre skeletons in pursuit, he ran fearlessly at the inferno ahead.

Above, the Dark Druids closed in on Speaks With Stone. As wounded as they were, they knew that he couldn't have much fight left in him either. Flames surged from thier claws as they moved in for the kill.

Speaks banked over and saw Scar running at the Wall of Fire like a charging grizzly. In a moment, he would live or die and the only thing Speaks could do about either was see to it that the avian Dark Druids behind him couldn't hunt down the Half-Orc at their leisure. Speaks slowed and sent out his magic to Summon an Ally of Nature.

Scar leap into the flames. They swirled around him and blood boiled on his armor and weapons. An instant later, he emerged unharmed on the other side of the fire. His long legs stretched out and launched him into the woods. He hoped that he could outrun any Dark Druids that tried to follow him but those hopes sank as he saw the eagles pursuing Speaks overhead. He had worn the form of an eagle before thanks to the Druid's magic and he knew exactly how fast they were and how easily they could spot him from the air. His chances of evading them were virtually none.

As he watched, the pair of eagles closed in on the third and Scar prayed that St. Cuthbert would lend some justice to their fight and let Speaks strike a few last good blows. Then, as if in answer to his prayers, a giant bat seemed to burst into being just behind the flying Dark Druids and swooped in to attack them.

The Dark Druids were taken completely off guard as the sky darkened above them and they found themselves the targets of the Dire Bat. The thing moved in utter silence and was more maneuverable than they were as well. Trying to fight it off with their talons and beaks was going to be impossible and they couldn't focus on attacking Speaks or searching for Scar while it harried them. They turned and beat a desperate retreat back to their camp where their brethren might help protect them from the ground.

Speaks watched them retreat and breathed a ragged sigh of relief. He traded altitude for speed as he dove down to just above the treetops. His eagle eyes quickly found Scar below, running like he was being chased by the hounds of hell. Speaks glanced back to make sure that he wasn't.

The Druid thought of alighting so that they might regroup and talk of what they would do next. But he didn't. He couldn't imagine what he might say right now. They both needed to just flee for a while and let their bodies exhaust their minds to stave off the wave of despair that waited to crash in on them. There would be plenty of time to talk and mourn later.


On the blood soaked ground of the Dark Druid camp, Irakthanbar Derin Khazundam, known to his friends as Raven, died. As the life slipped out of him, part of him was aware of what was happening. That part prayed.

I thank you, All-Father,
for letting me die this day on this hallowed and blessed earth.
For though these creatures may bring their evil into these lands
the earth itself is your domain and my home.

I thank you, Soul Forger,
for watching over me as I fought my way to this day.
I thank you for letting me die outside the cursed realm of the Bannites
where I would have arisen as an abomination to your sight and a foe to my friends.

I thank you, Creator, for letting me see the halls of the Glitterhame before I met my fate.
Its beauty and glory are a testament to your love for our people.
I die happy that those caverns are once again ruled by our people.

I thank you, Dwarffather, for letting me spend my last days fighting alongside those
who helped to clear the evil from those halls.
They have been my friends and, unlikely though they seem, friends to the dwarven people.
I only ask that if I have pleased you in my time upon your earth, hold your shield over them
and defend them with your hammer.

My lord, Moradin, take me into the earth and hold me in your halls.
I have come home.


Liquid Awesome
Unlikely Allies

Speaks and Scar soared above the treetops as miles of the Darkwood passed below them. Ahead on the horizon was a bulge in the treeline where a cluster of enormous oaks thrust higher than the surrounding trees. Another hour passed and they alighted on the outskirts of the grove.

As they transformed back to their normal forms, Scar reverted to practicality and immediately sought a tree to huddle against to try and rest for a bit. Speaks went directly to the center of the grove of great oaks.

Great Root was there, seemingly lost in reverie. A few moments after Speaks entered the clearing, Great Root moved slightly and a veritable flock of birds flew from his branches in all directions, going back out to bring word of the Treant's realm.

"I am glad to see you have returned, my friend." boomed Great Root. "Did you find what you needed to know at the Temple?"

"I did. It cost us a friend." replied Speaks.

Great Root's branches sagged, "I am sorry. Do you feel that his sacrifice was worthwhile?"

"I wish we had acquited ourselves better against the Dark Druids. They are powerful. And they have an army of undead."

"I know." Great Root replied. "They are coming this way."

"So soon?" asked Speaks.

"Yes. I suppose they wish to strike before you are able to organize much resistance. Can the people of the village to the south stand against them?"

Speaks considered for a moment. The folk of Glynden were tough and determined as had been proved in the Winter War, and they had fairly good fortifications. But then he envisioned the columns of fire pouring out of the sky as commanded by the Dark Druids. Flaming Spheres would roll through the streets of Glynden and the Dark Druids would set fire to every building in town as their eagle forms swooped above the town, fire shooting from their talons. The town would be an inferno before the undead army was even at their gates.

"No. If we fight on their terms, we will die." said Speaks, looking up into the deep eyes of Great Root.

The Lord of the Forest replied with an air of finality, "Then we fight them on our terms. Here, in the woods."

Speaks nodded. They began to plan...

A pair of falcons soared over the walls of Glynden and alighted near the center of town. Suddenly Speaks and Scar stood in the middle of the road between Nan's Tavern and the Church of St. Cuthbert. Speaks went in search of Kyndalyn and Scar entered the Church. Word of their arrival spread like wildfire through town and within an hour, a Council of War was convened inside the Church and the doors were closed to the public and guarded by one of the men-at-arms under the command of the the Inquisitors.

Inside were gathered a diverse group. Speaks and Scar were there of course, as were Father Thomas and Kyndalyn. Also in attendance were Lucius Capito and the other Inquisitor of St. Cuthbert, Cornelius. Boss Brathwaite was the only other member of the Glynden Council there, as it would still take several hours before word could be taken to the various castellans. One other figure was present who was not familiar to Speaks and Scar. He wore the mantle of a War Wizard of the Imperial Legions of Emor.

Apparently the dwarven envoys who had passed through Glynden some months ago had made their way south to Oar and had, with some trepidation, sailed across the Crescent Sea to Emor. There they sought guidance from the Imperial College of Wizards. Their missive from the dwarven High Priests of Mithrak Ghul had indicated they should seek out those who "spoke with stones" and it was widely known that the Imperial Wizards used crystals for scrying and communication.

The visit by the Dwarves piqued the interest of the Imperial Wizards who had consulted with the Church of St. Cuthbert for any portents that could be provided by the state sponsored religion of the Empire. The Church rather smugly informed the College of Wizards that they had been aware of a possible "disturbance" in the Northlands for months and had dispatched "top men" to look into the matter. Upon getting this news, the Imperial College of Wizards felt that they could ill afford to ignore the situation and dispatched one of their younger, but well trained, members to see to it that nothing of interest occured in the Northlands that would escape thier notice.

Thus, the Imperial War Wizard known as Lazarius (he refused to reveal any more of his name than that) arrived in Glynden a week prior and had been rather bored ever since. His boredom was rapidly coming to an end.

During the last two months, the Inquisitors had ventured to the barbarian lands across the Fodor and conducted an investigation into the mysterious amulets that bore the symbol which had been the subject of so many dreams and portents. They were unable to find anything concrete and further found the barbarian tribesmen rather inhospitable to thier imperious demeanor. They had only just returned to Glynden a couple of weeks prior and were about to complete their reports and return to Oar when Speaks and Scar had arrived. What they learned from the pair of adventurers was enough to warrant a delay of their return to Oar.

As Speaks described the coming army of undead and their Dark Druid masters, faces around the table ran the gammut from grimly determined to utterly horified. Speaks explained their tactics and his fears if they were to reach the walls of Glynden.

The War Council quickly and unanimously decided that such a thing must not be allowed to happen. The enemy must be confronted well away from Glynden so that if they failed, the people of the town could abandon the place and seek refuge to the south. Doing so would mean relinquishing the last shred of the great Empire of Emor that still stood in the Northlands, but the only alternative was death.

Or worse.

NEXT: The Final Battle

I am finally caught up at work and I was rather hoping to maybe finish the Story Hour today. But I decided to finish posting the old installments in the Rel's Faded Glory - The Early Days thread. Some 45 posts later, it was done, and a big chunk of my afternoon was gone. But it was fun too. I skimmed over those old installments as I was posting them and it was a great walk down memory lane.

So, I only got the above update done and you'll have to wait for the rest until I'm back from Texas where I'm attending a wedding this weekend. Trust me though, it should be worth the wait.

Jon Potter

First Post
Darn you, Rel!

Darn you for getting me hooked on another Story Hour!

And darn you for making me plow through both of your Faded Glory threads only to find that I have to wait along with all the rest of your addic- err... fans for the final update(s).

Your games seem like a lot of fun to play and I know that the SH is a lot of fun to read. Well done on all accounts.

Except for the timeliness of your updates of course. That's not well done at all. ;)

Of course, having a toddler of my own, I know how the time can disappear without you even noticing until its gone.

And now, I look forward to NC Game Day II even moreso that before.


Liquid Awesome
Well, Jon, I'd say you picked a pretty good time to start up reading the Story Hour. My handfull of long-suffering faithful readers have had to wait a lot longer than the week it'll likely take me to get the final battle written up.

I'm flattered and impressed that you took the time to go through the entirety of the Story Hour to date. It is a LOT of material. I'm not entirely sure where the page count will finally clock in, but it'll be well over 300 pages (albeit with rather funky spacing due to the boards needing an extra hard return to allow for a paragraph break). I have to say that though it has been a lot of effort at times, it yields a great satisfaction to see the chronicle of that campaign coming to an end.

When a moment of free time presents itself, I'll have to head over and check out your story hour thread too. And likewise about NCGDII. I'm starting to get excited as the time draws closer. I look forward to meeting and gaming with you.


Liquid Awesome
Hey, guess what: Final Update!

The Final Battle

The Dark Druids moved through the forest as lords. They were home and the elves would once again rule the Darkwood. But they would not be so foolish as their brethren of old had been. Such idiocy to have tried to "live in harmony" with nature and live in such a way as to leave almost no mark on the woods. Their time in the north, beyond the Pillars of Heaven had taught them a lesson: Nature has no compassion and it will kill you if it can. Nature must be bent to the will of those who sought to live amongst it. Nature was a tool and once shaped properly, a weapon.

The army that attended them was an excellent example. These creatures would never have agreed to fight their enemies and help them reconquer the lands they had been driven from by the human scum of the so-called "Empire" to the south. But killed and returned to unlife, they were perfect for the task. Obedient, fearless, inexorable.

While they would have preferred to gather a few more bands of Gnolls and Ogres to fill the ranks, the army they had was quite powerful enough. In fact, though he made sure that none of his lesser brethren knew it, the leader of the Dark Druids strained to maintain control of much of the army. Though the Rod that he weilded vastly increased his ability to command the unliving, he was still forced to give succinct orders to one group and then switch to another almost constantly. For that reason, the army marched in a perfectly straight line to the southeast.

He would be glad when they reached the town they were to destroy. Part of him almost hoped the humans would put up a worthy fight since that would cut down the size of his army to a slightly more managable size and weed out some of the weaker skeletons and zombies that filled its ranks. With Glynden destroyed, he could release many of the lesser undead to roam the Darkwood as pickets to deter any other wanderers while they consolidated their power within the forest. Many of his fellow Dark Druids from the north had thought his assault on the Darkwood to be foolish and suicidal. But they would quickly change their thoughts when they heard of his successes and saw the might that he controlled within these woods.

On marched the army. In the vanguard were the undead animals, mostly wolves and bears. Behind them came some three score zombies followed by the bulk of the skeleton army, well over a hundred strong. These were trailed by the larger Ogre skeletons and the darting forms of the Shadows that still remained, serving as a personal bodyguard for the half dozen Dark Druids. Behind them were a rear guard consisting of a couple score more Gnoll skeletons.

They marched toward the town of Glynden, tireless and unstopable.


The woods exploded with fury.

An Ice Burst was the first thing to strike the center of the army, catching nearly all the Druids and most of the Shadows in its hail of razor sharp ice crystals. A split second later a column of Holy Flame Struck down from the heavens landing squarely on the leader and a pair of the Shadows. And then, like a spirit of vengeance, Scar burst out of the woods where he had waited behind the Silent Image of a cluster of bushes. He looked almost shadow-like himself due to the greyish cast of his skin as a result of the Stoneskin spell cast upon him by Lazarius. He charged the nearest of the Dark Druids with Raven's hammer in his grasp. The horror that dominated the Dark Druid's final moment was mercifully brought to an end as his head was caved in and he fell twitching to the ground (49 point critical by Scar).

The battle had started.

The Invisible Lazarius took to the air and appeared above the skeletal horde as he let loose a Lightning Bolt into the center of the Dark Druid core of the army, striking a pair of them including the leader and flindering a line of lesser skeletons also caught in its path. On a nearby tree branch, a falcon transformed into Kyndalyn the Younger, Guardian of Glynden. Even as his form solidified into its Half-Elven shape, he was drawing his bow and he sent an arrow slamming into another of the Dark Druids.

Now recovered from the initial shock of coming under attack, the Dark Druids began to respond to the ambush. The leader had been a principal target and was badly wounded. He could spare only cursory attention to controlling his undead troops as he drank a potion that healed the worst of his wounds. Having just seen the 250 year life of his friend brought to an abrupt and messy end by Scar, another of the Dark Druids called down a Flame Strike on the Half-Orc, but it seemed to only slightly injure him. When another Dark Druid did the same, the effect was more pronounced. A third Dark Druid unleashed a Flame Strike on the pair of Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert who had now emerged from the illusionary bushes but, having heard the accounts of the battle at the Dark Druid camp, they had warded themselves against such magic and ignored the flames that fell around them.

Scar howled in defiance and charged one of the Dark Druids that had magically assaulted him and delivered a firm blow with Raven's hammer before dancing out of the Elf's reach and moving to threaten the other Dark Druid that had called down fire upon him. Now directly in the midst of the enemy, Scar figured that if they wanted to call down any more fire on him, the damned Elves could get burned too.

Speaks With Stone swooped below the treetops and called upon the plants of the forest to Grow Spikes behind the Dark Druids and ahead of the rear guard who, bereft of any commands by the Dark Druid leader, continued to march forward into the chaos of the ambush.

The Inquisitors were now alone amidst an army of evil who had begun to take notice of them. They called upon the protection of St. Cuthbert as Lucius Consecrated the area around them and Cornelius called forth a Magic Circle Against Evil. Even as they did so, a horde of zombies moved in to surround them.

Near the rear of the enemy army, the skeletons began to plow into the area of Speaks' spell and suffer the rending and shredding assault of the undergrowth. The front ranks escaped with minor damage but the ones further back were quickly ripped into individual bones by the thorn covered vines that had sprung from the ground.

A group of Ogre Skeletons had spotted Kyndalyn and moved toward the tree in which he was perched. Another group of the large undead moved to attack Scar and one landed a blow on the Half-Orc but he shrugged it off thanks to his Stony Skin.

Lazarius disappeared from sight as his invisibility reasserted itself. As he moved above the battle, he used another spell to create mutliple Mirror Images of himself. When he reappeared next, his enemies would have a nearly impossible time trying to target him properly. It was all just like the exercises back at the Academy.

Kyndalyn wasn't sure whether the Ogre skeletons were going to be able to shake him out of his tree or not, but he only had a moment before they arrived and he wanted to make it count. He let fly another arrow at one of the Dark Druids near Scar and was pleased as it struck home and the Dark Druid fell to the ground.

One of the remaining Dark Druids saw Scar in their midst and, not wishing to call down fire on his ally, he used his magic to fill the Half-Orc with a sense of Doom. Although he succumbed to the dark magic, Scar had been exposed to a lot of doom lately and kept it all in perspective.

Speaks wanted to make certain that his allies didn't lose track of their main objective and wreathed the Dark Druid leader in Faerie Fire. Below him, he could see that the skeletons were starting to cluster around his allies in groups and hoped that they would be able to fend off the superior enemy numbers.

Lazarius and his various doubles reappeared and unleashed another Lightning Bolt , catching another pair of Dark Druids and splintering more skeletons that clustered around them. But some of his enemies had been lying in wait and another Dark Druid sent a Flame Strike descending on the War Wizard and his images. Thankfully, he dodged the worst of it and had magically protected himself against Fire (and Cold, just in case) before the battle. But he was disturbed to see that a pair of the remaining Shadows had taken notice of him and began to rapidly approach.

The skeletal Ogres began hammering on the tree Kyndalyn occupied but the Half-Elf kept his balance and fired a pair of arrows at another Dark Druid but they missed their mark. The Dark Druid responded by calling down another Flame Strike, but not at Kyndalyn. Lazarius was hit yet again by a column of fire and this time more forcefully. His magic protected him some, but he wouldn't last much longer at this rate.

The Dark Druid leader found himself face to face with Scar again. Again, it seemed an imprudent place to be and he shifted form into that of a skeletal bat. Scar swung Raven's hammer at him as he did this but failed to strike the shrinking form of the Dark Druid. As the bat flew away low above the ground, the forest exploded around Scar as one of the Dark Druids took the opportunity to Flame Strike him while none of his allies were likely to get hit.

Scar didn't take the bait and charged after the Dark Druid leader who had, foolishly, not gained much altitude. He struck the bone-bat with the hammer of his fallen friend and it landed with a satisfying crunch. Behind him, a flash of light accompanied a wave of holy energy that rolled out from the Inquisitors. A full score of zombies turned to dust in an instant. But there were plenty more where those came from and they began to close ranks around the Inquisitors almost immediately.

At the opposite end of the battlefield, still without any contrary commands from their leader, the rear guard of skeletons continued to march into the spiked vegitation that Speaks had laid before them and were systematically torn to bits.

Braving further retribution from the Dark Druids, Lazarius maneuvered in mid-air and let fly with another Lightning Bolt, destroying a Shadow and severely wounding one of the Dark Druids that had hurled a column of fire at him just moments before. Below, Kyndalyn continued to hang on to the swaying branches of the tree he perched in and managed to fire a pair of arrows into the other Dark Druid that had attacked Lazarius.

The leader of the Dark Druids was becoming desperate. Above him was the eagle form of Speaks and the War Wizard who seemed to be able to blast out one bolt of lightning after another. He elected to stay near the ground but, as he tried to retreat, he found his path cut off by the vines and branches that were tearing his rear guard of skeletons to shreds. As he swooped first one way and then the other in indecision, he barely even saw the charging form of Scar. At the last second, the Half-Orc let loose a cry of triumph and sent Raven's hammer crashing down in a two handed blow that smashed the ribs of the skeletal bat form of the Dark Druid leader. It fell to the ground, lifeless and transformed back into the form of an Elf.

With their leader down, a couple of the more wounded Dark Druids decided to take flight into the forest. Two transformed into birds and began to retreat into the woods. Another spitefully called down another Flame Strike atop the Inquisitors, even though it incinerated a couple of Gnoll zombies at the same time. But the destruction of a pair of zombies was insignificant compared to the crowd of them that was pushing in on the adherents of St. Cuthbert.

Just as it seemed they would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers, first Lucius and then Cornelius held forth their holy symbols and holy energy burst from them. Where moments before had been a horde of zombies and skeletons, there were now only wisps of dust being carried on the forest breeze.

Speaks With Stone knew that if any of the Dark Druids got away, they could be looking at facing another undead army sometime in the unknown future. He streaked out of the air and marked one of the fleeing targets with Faerie Fire, seeing to it that even if they escaped, they could be quickly located.

Determined not to let the Dark Druids retreat and regroup, Lazarius flew after those retreating and let fly with an Orb of Acid but the ball missed its target and landed, sizzling and smoking, on the forest floor. Kyndalyn too tried to stop the fleeing avians and fired an arrow that hit its mark. Unfortunately the glancing shot was not enough to bring the bird down.

The pair of Dark Druids began to pick up speed now that they were away from the thick of the combat. Each began to climb toward the treetops where they would be in open air and could go even faster. One of the pair suddenly turned into a cloud of bloody feathers as an oak branch swatted it out of the air with a mighty blow. Great Root lunged at the other but it dodged out of his grasp and through a hole in the forest canopy...where it was met with the talons of a pair of Dire Eagles, coming to the aid of the true Lord of the Darkwood.

Scar bent and picked up the unholy Rod that had been the source of so much trouble and pain for he and his friends. As he stood, he roughly kicked the dead elven Dark Druid and spat on his corpse. "That's for Raven, you nancing elven bastard!" He turned and with a whoop of joy, he charged into the midst of the skeletal mob that was pressing in around the Inquisitors. Bones shattered in his wake.

Another wave of holy energy burst from the Inquisitors and skeletons became dust by the dozen. The animated animal skeletons had returned to do battle with them and were closing in but now other, live, animals were starting to emerge from the forest. Wolves, bears, even elk and deer were shattering the bones of their undead counterparts with hoof, claw, horn and tooth. The undead army was rapidly becoming a few disorganized pockets of skeletons who mindlessly attacked the closest target and were being destroyed in detail by the combined forces of Glynden and Great Root.

The last of the Dark Druids looked on dispairingly at what was taking place. How could this have happened in the scope of just a couple of minutes? But there was no time for regrets. His only chance was to flee. As he did so, Lazarius took flight after him and Kyndalyn took another parting shot with his bow but missed. Speaks, still in hawk form, locked on to the fleeing Dark Druid, determined not to lose him.

Alternating between smiting skeletons with their maces and waves of holy energy that destroyed nearly a score of them each time, the Inquisitors were making quick work of the few pockets of undead resistance. Scar leapt from one foe to the next, shattering and smashing them with Raven's hammer. He and the Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert suddenly found themselves face to face amid a pile of splintered bone with no enemies in sight. All were covered in the dust of the dead and it was nearly unbelievable to them that they had managed to destroy such an army of undead in so short a time. Scar howled in victory and even the Inquisitors broke their normally stoic manner as the clapped each other and Scar on the back in celebration. Kyndalyn jogged up a few moments later, his bow dangling from his hand and his quiver nearly empty. Looking about, they wondered what had become of Speaks and Lazarius.

As if in answer, the War Wizard and a hawk broke through the treetops and settled to the ground near them. For the first time since the start of the battle, Speaks assumed his human form.

Lucius asked, "Were you able to catch the last of them?"

After a pause Speaks answered, "He would not surrender."

"Would you have accepted it if he had?", Lucius replied.

Speaks With Stone and Lazarius exchanged a glance with each other but said nothing more on the matter. Throughout the forest around them, wolves, bears, deer and elk quickly retreated from the scene of undead carnage. Speaks knew exactly what they were thinking: Such a place was unnatural and so too was their being in such close proximity without some of them becoming prey of the others. While they were willing to put aside instinct for a short time to answer the call of Great Root, it was a situation best left behind and forgotten as quicky as possible. The thoughts of the animals could not possibly have been closer to those of the humanoids present.


Midsummer approached quickly, and for most of the folks of Glynden, it was the same as the previous summer. The crops grew thickly in the rich soils of the Northlands and before they knew it, it would be time once again for the harvest festival.

This winter would see more traffic at Nan's and he was already counting the extra money he would make from the ale that would flow heavily as tales were told over and over. The Winter War, The Battle for Aquae Sulis, The Evil Temple of the Darkwood and The Battle of the Dark Druid Army of Death were all tales circulating thickly through the town. No doubt they would continue being refined and elaborated upon until, by the first snowfall, they would each be epics in their own right.

For a few, they already were.

Kyndalyn was having an easy time keeping the Glynden Guards in top form. Not only were all the town boys of suitable age (and many who were less than suitable age) clammoring for a chance to join the Guards, but those men already in the Guard knew exactly how dangerous these lands could be. They trained hard every day without being asked.

The Inquisitors of St. Cuthbert had departed for Oar weeks ago. They had quickly wrapped up their investigation and taken possession of the Rod of Unlife to return to the Church for destruction. Although they spoke little of the events that had transpired during their visit to the Northlands, they made it clear to Father Tomas and the rest of the townsfolk that no further suspicions fell on Speaks With Stone and that they considered him a man of honor who had fought beside them against the forces of Evil. Before departing, they participated in a brief service, during which Krase Sandoval and Irakthanbar Derin "Raven" Khazundam were honored by a marker placed in the graveyard behind the Church of St. Cuthbert.

Lazarius decided to stay on in Glynden for a while at least. It would be unseemly for him to arrive back in the south before the Inquisitors had vacated the area, lest they uncover some interesting information after he left. With Kyndalyn's blessing, he also moved into Uncle Claudius' residence to compile the old wizard's memoirs and notes as a former War Wizard of the Imperial Legions of Emor. Although the townsfolk treated him with a healthy dose of superstition and fear, they were gradually coming to accept him. Someone had even just recently left a pie on his doorstep.

Rhys had stayed on with Tadius Silvanus and was now earning a decent living helping the elven Wizard trade his wares. With his quick wit, easy charm and sorcerous abilities, he was a perfect front man for Tadius. He had also been trying to develop a relationship with the lovely and dangerous mercenary, Tarsheeva, Speaks With Stone's sister. She had been comforting and friendly but always seemed to pull away just when it seemed they were getting close. He hoped it wasn't because of his race. Although it was still tough coming to grips with his new skin, he was getting used to being an Elf. It was strange and painful to think that he would probably outlive by centuries all of his family and friends. He wished his great-grandfather, Cinhil Cameron, was still around as he had also lived to over a hundred years of age and could likely relate to what he was going through.

Scar had divided his time between Glynden and Aquae Sulis. A few of the Glynden miners had set up at the rich Aquae Sulis mines and started digging out ore and making repairs to the ore processing building there. Fearing possible attacks by the Gnolls or possibly a return of the Kobolds, they had hired Scar on as a bodyguard. He also sometimes lended his strength to the mining endeavors, which, more than anything else, earned the respect and admiration of the miners.

It happened that Scar was visiting Glynden to purchase supplies for the miners and deliver a load of unrefined ore when the dwarven delegation that had gone south in the spring returned through Glynden on their way back to the Novantae Lands. Scar and Speaks With Stone met with them and told them of Raven's fate and how nobly he had fought in the Temple and the Darkwood. Scar presented them with Raven's hammer and they assured him that this weapon would be returned to Raven's family and would be a weapon of honor that would be passed down to further generations of Dwarves. The Record Keepers even made an official record for their archives and went so far as to note Scar's clan name and draw his likeness in their books.

Speaks With Stone spent several weeks roaming the depths of the Darkwood, staying away from Glynden. He spent considerable time with Great Root and even finally began his project of carving the guidestones for other Druids to follow that had been his original goal in coming to the area. Mostly, he needed time to sort out his feelings about an awful lot of things. Chief among them was if and how he was going to raise the issue of the Druid's historical involvement with the Temple of Bane and the war against the elves. Knowing that there may or may not still be an order of Druidic assassins lurking about to silence anyone who uncovered the unsavory past of the Druids did not set his mind at ease on the matter.

One morning, he lay sleeping in a patch of sun near the Standing Stone at the center of Great Root's grove. He was awakened by the creaking of branches that he had come to recognize as Great Root moving around. He sat up and gazed up at the Treant.

"Good morning, Speaks With Stone."

"Good morning, Great Root."

"I have a bit of news you may wish to hear."

"What is that?", Speaks asked, his curiousity piqued.

"Your son is born." Great Root smiled in the wooden way that was his custom.

"What?! How do you know this?!"

Great Root smiled even broader, "A little bird told me."

Speaks sagged back against the Standing Stone, staring ahead, full of nearly every emotion he knew of and several that he didn't.

"His name is Ormgar, it means Stone Jaw in the tongue of the Suevi."

As the name of his son sank throught the layers of confusion he seemed mired in, Speaks stood up and his emotions settled on a faint smile. "Great Root, I thank you for the time you've let me spend here." He started to move about the grove, collecting his few belongings.

"I think I know where I'm going now."

The End (for now)
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Liquid Awesome
Ahhhhhhhh. Finished. For now anyway.

I wanted to take a second to say a few words of thanks (hopefully without sounding too much like I'm accepting an Academy Award).

As the thread title says, and will always say, Thanks Old One. I know he has been away from the boards for a while and he may not see this for some time. But I want to once again give a hearty thanks for his endorsement, without which, none of this story hour would ever have happened. I'd still have stolen his excellent campaign setting though. ;)

Old One is a very nice guy (he's also not that old) and it was a great honor to meet with him in person and game with him. I hope he, his wife and his new baby are all doing great. And I'm still looking forward (patiently) to reading more of his Story Hour when he gets around to updating it.

I'd also like to thank my players, Speaks, Raven and Scar (thankfully those are not their real names). I'm am very blessed to have guys to game with who are not only great gamers, but are also very close friends. I've known the three of them for pretty close to a combined 55 years and gamed with them for at least 45 of that. Wow! That makes me feel like the "old one". Anyhow, they are fantastic friends and I'm really glad that we can do all the fun things we do together, including gaming.

I'd also like to thank my wife who was more instrumental in all of this than most of you probably realize. Consider that I started my Faded Glory campaign a tad over two weeks after our daughter was born just under two years ago. Since then, just about every Tuesday night, she has made sure that I and my basement are available to our game group. Additionally, she has also been a great sounding board for many of the campaign ideas that I've had and even tossed in a few ideas of her own. She has been not just accomodating, but supportive of my gaming hobby and now that I am done writing the story hour, I'll have time to put my attention back on the solo campaign I'm running for her.

And of course I want to thank the folks who have read what I've written and especially the ones who have commented on it. I've often said, and I mean this, that if you are writing a Story Hour because you want "kudos" and comments, you are probably doing it for the wrong reasons. Those things are never guaranteed and I think of them as gifts from the readers that are by no means obligatory. Thank you sincerely for every bit of feedback that I've gotten during this whole process. One thing I noticed when reading some of the "Early Days" posts was how much better I think my posts are as a result of feedback you guys have given.

I do want to single out one reader in particular who I've been thankful for on too many occasions to count and that is Darklone. Darklone is a combination of that little angel of a cheerleader offering words of encouragement and that little devil poking you in the butt with his pitchfork. He has offered comments, questions and nearly endless bumps, many of them just when I needed them the most (though he probably didn't know it at the time). Every Story Hour writer should have a Darklone, and thankfully, several of them do.

I guess that's about it for now. If anybody has any further questions about the story hour (even dating back to the Early Days thread), I'll answer them, as long as I don't think they give away anything vital to the players. That is because there is a fairly strong chance that we will be picking up this campaign sometime in the not-so-distant future. I won't make any predictions about exactly when because that depends on what the whole group has to say. But it does seem likely and if it happens, I will write a story hour about it.


Jon Potter

First Post
Rel said:
That is because there is a fairly strong chance that we will be picking up this campaign sometime in the not-so-distant future. I won't make any predictions about exactly when because that depends on what the whole group has to say. But it does seem likely and if it happens, I will write a story hour about it.

I for one will be waiting to read about it.

That battle was an epic end to the campaign and I really like how you tied up many loose ends while still leaving enough dangling to logically supply the group with another Faded Glory campaign.

I must say that I wonder what's going to happen when Speaks knocks on some barbarian's door and says, "Hi. I'm the father of your wife's baby."

I loved Scar's use of Raven's hammer in the final battle. Very poetic in a warrior sort of way. And speaking of poetry: "That's for Raven, you nancing elven bastard!" That brought a huge grin to my face!

I wish we'd had more of an opportunity to get to know Lazarius. He added some much-needed arcane oomph to the group. What exactly is a War Wizard? Is that a particular of the Faded Glory setting or is it a PrC from one of the many, many supplements floating about?

On the topic of Old One: is there anywhere that I can get a look at the campaign information for Faded Glory and/or his early story hours? There's clearly a lot of background to the campaign that I found myself scratching my head over when reading your SH. I looked for Old One's Faded Glory Story Hours but the first three (I think) are lost and both links to his campaign website lead nowhere. Anyway, sort of a hijack here. Sorry. :D

Now on to read the Slave Lords one-shot that you wrote up!


Liquid Awesome
Thanks for the praise and comments, Jon.

I can't tell you how glad I was at how the final battle turned out. After the campaign was over, I looked back and thought about how it had been structured and how the characters had fared in the various encounters that I had thrown at them. Frankly, I think I was way to hard on them overall.

That's not to say that I didn't like having some really tough battles including a few where I was within a couple of die rolls of a TPK. But I don't think I provided nearly enough combats where the party was at a clear advantage and could get those "feel good" wins that are like a breath of fresh air sometimes.

That is absolutely not to say that I arranged the final battle to be a cake walk. That would clearly be a let down after everthing that had led up to it. The fact is that they came up with a well conceived plan, implemented it well, rolled pretty good and tactically improvised wisely when needed. It was a great example of when everthing just clicks.

Which was fairly surprising considering that Lazarius had just joined the group. It is true that his character was not extraordinarily fleshed out and I didn't require him to be either. By that point in the campaign, it was no secret that the ultimate battle was going to be against the Dark Druids and their undead army. It was a shame that Raven died just before that but sometimes that's the way it goes.

Lazarius was only around for two sessions and he was pretty well geared for the final battle. As far as what a War Wizard is, it isn't terribly well defined. Pretty much an Evocation specialist that is good at blowing things up while retaining a respectable bag of tricks that might benefit the Imperial Legions.

Uncle Claudius was such a War Wizard and was attached to the Legion stationed at Glynden until it was withdrawn closer to the heart of Emor prior to when my story begins. Uncle Claudius' period of enlistment was up anyway so he mustered out and settled in Glynden.

I have a modified version of the Faded Glory history that I adapted from what Old One originally posted in his first Story Hour. I'll try and post it tomorrow if I can find the disk it's on.

As far as the early Faded Glory threads, I don't know if they are archived anywhere. I read them as they were being created and cut and pasted bits that I wanted to adapt for my campaign as I went along, so I never had much occasion to revisit them.

One last bit: Speaks With Stone is not exactly known for his diplomacy skill, but I'd guess he may be a bit more subtle than to stride up to the Suevi Chieftain and tell him his son's true heritage. But you never know. :D

Another dangling question is whether TheLoneCorndog (the player of Rhys and Scar) will play Rhys or Scar if we should pick the campaign back up.


Registered User
*Darklone abuses his ooze tainted handkerchief*

Sad and nice at once... the storyhour is finished.

Krases and Ravens souls may rest in pieces... peace. ;)

Happy endings and new beginnings everywhere... I feel old. :D

Thanks for everything, Rel for DMing and writing, Old One for the inspiration, Lone Corndog and Speaks and the others for playing and ENworld for the forum, some ancient dudes for the internet... Thanks for the flowers Rel, I won't take the angelic part wrong though I have a hard time to imagine myself in a cheerleading costume :D


Liquid Awesome
As I promised, I located the original campaign info that I handed out to the players. There is quite a bit of it and the large majority is copied directly from Old One's notes that he posted in his first thread. I did make some substantial alterations, particularly in that I did not use Old One's cosmology and that the non-human races are much more prevalent in my campaign world.

If anybody is interested, I still have th unaltered text from Old One's campaign background too. I don't really want to post it here in my story hour thread (mostly because so much of it is identical to what I'm about to post) but I'd be happy to e-mail it to anyone who wants it.


Your breath comes in quick gasps as you climb the last few feet to the summit of Kyndalyn’s Watch. The cool autumn air quickly dries the sweat soaking your tunic, causing you to shiver ever so slightly. Your feet come to rest atop the stacked stone cairn; nearly three spear throws long, a spear throw in width and another in height. Below you, in their granite tomb, lie the moldering remains of Kyndalyn the Fair, his brother Farinmail and their 20-odd staghounds. Here, 20 winters ago, the brothers and their faithful hounds fell protecting Glynden from a fierce raiding party of the Coritani.

Your grasp the imaginary sword at your side and swing it over your head! You shout a battle cry as you strike again and again, felling a Coritani with every deadly blow, just as Kyndalyn did all those years ago. You have heard the story many times, told late at night at Nan's tavern, as the embers from the banked fire grew dim. Heard the tale of the ranger Kyndalyn, the sorcerer Farinmail and their pack of magnificent hounds; four score and twelve Coritani crossed the Fodor River and not one returned home!

You look north and east and see the object of their defense two long bow shots or more distant. The village of Glynden lies between two rocky spurs at the southern end of the Dragon’s Tail Range. The wood smoke from the evening cooking fires curls lazily skyward above the stout stone and timber homes with slate roofs. You can make out the bell tower of the Church of St. Cuthbert, where Father Thomas must be preparing for evening vespers. Two ox-carts are straining to make it up the switchback path, under the every-vigilant eyes of the watch at the town gate.

You marvel at the crumbling, but still stout, walls and towers left behind when the 4th Cohort of the Rustica Auxilia departed for distant Emor, a decade before you were born. Here and there the walls were patched with timbers and lime cement – but they have withstood 30 winters of harsh weather and even harsher neighbors. Without those walls, Glynden would have shared the same fate as many of the other settlements of the Lost Northern Provinces, or so the elders always say.

Aquae Sulis, Ironoak, Greenspire and Bremerton have all been lost to marauding barbarians, fiendish Gnolls or other evils in the last ten winters alone. Since the legions withdrew, even the imperial provincial capitals of Lords and Roses had fallen, cast down into dust and memory. Now fewer than a score of holds remained throughout all of the Lost Northern Provinces, according the last merchant caravan to make the long and arduous journey to Glynden.

Evening is rapidly approaching, as is usual in the autumn of the North. You should be getting back, before they close the gates for the night – but you linger for a few more moments, surveying the land around your home. To the west, just under the fading sun, lay the Western Wilds; rough, densely wooded hills that are home to fierce barbarian tribes that Imperial Emor could not tame, even at the height of her power. Those tribes; the Coritani, the Nervii, the Brigantes and a score of others now raid across the Fodor River in increasing numbers, seeking to pick the bones of the Lost Northern Provinces clean. The river is at least ten days of hard walking distant and those that have made the trip swear that unfriendly eyes watch them every step.

Beyond the tribal lands of the barbarians lie the Blackpeak Mountains whose icy reaches are inhospitable to all but the heartiest of races. There are rumored to be tribes of Orcs who live there and war amongst each other and eke out a savage existence on the barren slopes of the Blackpeaks. Others say that beyond the Blackpeaks lies an ancient paradise city where the snow never falls and flowers bloom all year.

You turn to the south and spot several distant smoke plumes. There are still several fortified villas that survive, due to their proximity to Glynden. They raise foodstuffs and breed hardy ponies, which find a ready market in the town. Beyond the villas, three weeks or more on foot, is the port of Oar and beyond that, the Crescent Sea. Some of the trading caravans that visit Glynden two or three times a year travel by sea to Oar from the Eastenmarch, the Jewel Cities or even Imperial Emor herself. Most, however, prefer the longer (but safer) overland route – or so you have been told. The Corsairs of the Crescent Sea are rumored to be quite fierce and without mercy. Somewhere to the south, beyond the villas, beyond Oar and the Corsairs and the Crescent Sea is the shining city of Emor, Queen of the entire world!

You cast your eyes to the east and can faintly make out the huge bulk of Dragonspire Mountain in the fading light. The peak is lost in the misty clouds that always adorn it like a crown, even on the clearest of days. Everyone knows that a great and fearsome wyrm lives on the mountain. Several of the more permanent fixtures at Nan’s Tavern whisper of seeing the beast winging through the night sky when Seluna is smiling brightly, but only when they are deep in their cups. Rumors hold that the dragon considers the entire North to be its domain and it has destroyed no fewer than a dozen barbarian and Gnoll armies! From time to time, foolish adventurers set out to find the wyrm and steal its treasures, but none are known to have reached the peak and survived to tell the tale. The beast does not seem to take an interest in Glynden and the town returns the favor! Beyond Dragonspire Mountain, two weeks or more distant, are the Novantae Highlands where the ferocious highland clans raise their cattle, drink their mead and bash each other’s heads. Travelers say that the clansmen are suspicious of outsiders, but make sturdy friends, or terrible enemies.

Finally your gaze turns north and you shiver again as the evening breeze picks up. To the north lies the Great Northern Forest, also known as the Darkwood. Beyond that lost in the gathering gloom, but visible on a clear day are the majestic Pillars of Heaven. Even further to the north, beyond those mighty mountains according to tales whispered in hushed tones, lays the hidden Isle of the Dark Druids – the terrors that cast down the Imperial City of Roses in but a single night. The Darkwood is the domain of the fey, fierce creatures known for their deadly archery and even deadlier sorcery. It is said that they eat the flesh of their victims and hate all of the free folk with a burning and twisted hatred. Somewhere near the heart of the Darkwood is the lost city of Chrysilium, once home to the princes and princesses of the Seelie Court, or so old Sentenius claims. Of course, he is drunk half the time and asleep the other half, so who knows if he is telling the truth!

The half-smile that is playing across your face disappears as the gate horn sounds. You only have ten turns of the minute glass before the gate is closed and barred for the night. You leap down the cairn, leaving Kyndalyn and Farinmail and their hounds to their eternal watch, only to pause and look westward once more. There, far in the distance, framed by the burning eye of Pelor are the low hills of the Western Wilds. One day soon, you tell yourself, the sword at your side will not be imaginary and the barbarians’ best mind their heads! Perhaps you will brave the ruins of Lords or rid the Darkwood of the evil fey. Maybe you will travel to the Jewel Cities or the Eastenmarch or even to Emor herself. Perhaps the bards’ will sing tales of your bravery in the tavern halls one day or, you think as you glance one last time at the cairn, maybe a monument such as this will stand for you 20 winters hence. Suppressing a shudder at that last thought, you race down the slope for home – where a steaming bowl of mutton stew and a soft, down-feather tick await you. As you disappear into the darkness, a pale, translucent shape rises from the top of the cairn and watches you go. As if reading your mind, a brief smile touches the lips of Kyndalyn’s shade. With in inaudible sigh, the apparition then turns its sightless gaze westward, beginning its nightly vigil.


The Emorian Empire was the crowning glory of the Free Race’s technological, magical and cultural achievement. Its’ disciplined legions, skilled engineers and powerful battlemages helped spread the civilization of the Emorian Empire to the ends of the known lands. For nearly 3,000 years, the Empire was the dominant force in the land. However, like a mighty oak, impervious to external enemies, the Empire slowly rotted from within and toppled from its own weight.

The Empire had long seemed to roll across the land as an unstoppable force. One after another, petty kingdoms and tracts claimed by barbarian tribes were brought under the rule of the Empire and civilized. It stretched across a continent and a half as its conquests were consolidated into provinces. It grew ever northward and westward. But this vast size began to take its toll.

These newly conquered areas were often vast but sparsely populated. This presented two problems. First it required a great deal of infrastructure including roads and bridges to move the massive legions of the Empire. Supply lines were long and with much of the land uncultivated it was difficult to feed the legions and the numerous other supporting troops necessary to keep them equipped and moving in the field. The other problem was that the subjugated peoples of these regions did not always stay subjugated very well. They would often wage ferocious guerilla wars against the legions and other imperial troops. The barbarians would destroy a bridge here and kill a group of foragers there.

The costs of keeping the legions in the field year after year began to add up. As much tax as possible was squeezed from the conquered provinces, but those areas were beaten down from years of warfare already and needed time to recover. The sparse populations of these regions could not produce the resources necessary to support the imperial war machine.

At home near the core of the Empire the affluent society that had long prided itself on conquering all of the nearby lands started to feel the weight of the burden of war. Not only were taxes high to support the constant war effort, but generations of young men were conscripted into the Imperial Army as legionnaires, engineers, teamsters, or any of a hundred other jobs. Thousands of slaves were shipped into the center of the Empire to help support the agricultural industry there to help ease the manpower shortage. But this caused its own set of problems with a rise in the number of slave uprisings and the need to keep more legions available to put down these revolts.

The situation was unsustainable and a breaking point was reached some 100 years ago. Emperor Narses III desired more than anything to push into the furthest reaches of the continent, beyond the mighty Fodor River and to crush the barbarian tribes there against the Blackpeak Mountains. But the Empire was starting to fall into financial ruin. He needed to raise money and support for his campaign in the north and there was only one place that had the resources he needed: Sythia.

The Sythian lands to the east had long been conquered by the Empire and had had time to recover from war and become one of the wealthier provinces in the Empire. Sythia benefited greatly from being situated on the Bittertear Sea and conducted vast amounts of trade with the island nations to the southeast. Narses III called upon the provincial governor, Legatus IX, to invoke draconian taxes to provide him with the funds necessary to conquer the northlands.

Legatus IX had been awarded the position of provincial governor of the Sythian province because of his long time service to the Empire as a general in the northlands. When his legions returned triumphantly from their years of campaigning, Narses II gave over control of Sythia to Legatus as a reward and allowed him to retain most of his troops to be stationed in Sythia. This turned out to be a grave error.

Legatus refused the Imperial mandate to increase taxes and instead called upon his long time companions in the legions to support the secession of Sythia. He declared the independence of the Sythian Federation. All but a handful of the legionnaires supported his bid for independence and those that didn't were quickly subdued. Legatus quickly turned the huge merchant marine fleet of Sythia into a deadly weapon giving him incredible mobility and undisputed dominance over the seas.

Narses was completely caught off guard by the actions of Legatus. He had been positioning his legions in the northlands in preparation for the assault across the Fodor River. There were precious few troops in the core of the Empire to put down Legatus' insurrection. Narses issued an immediate recall of all unnecessary troops in the outlying provinces. He sent what legions were available to station along the Sythian border with orders to await support before launching an attack to retake control of Sythia.

As the legions withdrew from central Emor to array themselves on the border with Sythia, the slaves began to grow restless. Without the legions to suppress any revolts, dozens of slave uprisings began to occur, all over the heart of the Empire. In several cases, the slaves were able to band together in large enough numbers to be considered armies in their own right. They raged northwards towards their historical homelands, burning, pillaging and releasing more slaves as they went.

In a final, fatal error, Narses III pulled nearly half of the legions encamped on the border with Sythia back into central Emor in an effort to quell the slave revolts. This was precisely the opportunity Legatus was waiting for. His own legions swarmed across the border and massacred the outnumbered Imperial legions in huge numbers. He then withdrew across the border and sent word to Narses to attempt no recapture of Sythia. It is said that Narses personally killed over one hundred of his own house slaves in a fit of rage.

Narses refused to be recorded as the Emperor who suffered the first major military defeat in nearly 800 years. He sent orders for all available ships to amass at Oar to bring the legions from the northlands back across the Crescent Sea. Once again, however, Legatus was able to capitalize on Narses rash move. The navy of the Sythian Federation harried the fleet at Oar and sunk nearly two thirds of the ships that attempted the crossing of the Crescent Sea. Over two hundred thousand Imperial Legionnaires went to the bottom of the ocean wearing breastplates bearing the symbol of Emor.

Meanwhile, the slave armies had made their way to the northern coast of Emor and sacked many of the towns there, stealing fishing boats and the racing yachts of the wealthy to return home across the Crescent Sea. Many of them were also sunk by the zealous navy of the Sythian Federation. But many more returned to their ancestral homelands only to find that their once proud barbarian forefathers had been turned into humble farmers and shepherds. Some of the returned slaves who had grown up in the heart of the Empire adopted this pastoral lifestyle easily. But those who had been captured in more recent years had wild blood singing in their veins. They made their way across the Fodor River to the wild lands and established the Coritani tribe.

As for the Empire itself, the Slave Wars and Sythian Secession had robbed it of its ruling family and many of its leading citizens and it was left sorely weakened. Somewhere amid the chaos, one of Narses enemies managed to enter the Imperial Palace and slay him in his sleep. The once stable Empire was shattered by a series of vicious civil wars as one claimant after another sought the imperial purple. Legions proclaimed their own consuls and legates emperor and marched and counter-marched across the length and breadth of the Empire. After nearly a century of fruitless warfare, the Emorian Empire was a pale shadow of its former self, exhausted and impotent.

In the south and the east, province after province rose in rebellion – shaking off the mantle of Imperial Emor and declaring their independence. Emor had no strength to oppose these moves and was soon battling for its very existence. Despite entreaties from many of his subordinates, Legatus IX refused to invade the Empire. Whether because of some sense of loyalty to the land he once served or a simple lack of desire to conquer a land already in utter chaos, is unknown. He did however pass this idea on to his son Gaius I and since that day, the Sythian Federation has not expanded its boundaries by so much as a league.

In more recent years, Emperor Dartalus II has taken firm control from the various warring factions and set about putting the Empire into some semblance of order. It was his father who ordered the withdrawal of the Rustica Auxilia from Glynden some 30 years ago to consolidate the holdings closer to the heart of the Empire. The young emperor has stabilized the Empire’s borders and fought off all enemies. He has reclaimed several lost provinces, cleared the southern half of the Crescent Sea of corsairs and negotiated a lasting peace with the Sythian Federation. He wishes to return the Empire to its former glory, while avoiding the mistakes of earlier Emperors.

The Emperor is beset by perils on every side, however. The current strength of the Empire is brittle – one major defeat and all could be lost. The Empire has few natural resources left and must acquire most of it raw materials through trade or conquest. The resource rich north is out of reach to all but the boldest merchant families. Many of the Sythian warlords would love to see Emor pulled down stone by stone, but they bide their time and wait. The Corsairs of the Crescent Sea, rogue elements of the old Sythian Navy prey on merchant ships of all nations, raid coastal towns and extort ransom for captured notables.

This is the backdrop against where the adventure is set. The PCs will start in the small frontier town of Glynden, once part of the Imperial Theme of Lords. Since the last of the legions withdrew 30 winters ago, barbarians, Gnolls and others have overrun most of the former northern provinces.

To the west are the wild barbarian tribes that never submitted to Emorian rule, even at the height of the Empire. To the north is the vast expanse of the Darkwood; home to the fey and beyond that, farther to the north through a treacherous pass in the Pillars of Heaven is the legendary Isle of the Dark Druids, rumored masters of Darkwood. To the South is the Crescent Sea, across which is the fabled city of Emor – if you can survive the Corsairs and sea serpents. Far to the east, across the moors and highlands, is the Plain of Glittering Stone – once known as the Plains of Aresh – beyond that, the Eastern Barrier. Legend holds that, somewhere in that waterless waste, the Tomb of the Shadowlord lies. No living soul has ever visited the Tomb and no known tome or map marks its location. All that have sought the Tomb have disappeared in the wastes never to be seen again.

The land about Glynden is dotted with ruins - fallen towns, legion posts and forts, forgotten towers, abandoned mines and burned out villas. It is hemmed in by enemies - barbarian tribes, the Gnolls, the Dark Druids and, of course, THE Dragon. It is far from any real civilization and many goods are difficult to come by or very expensive. In short, it is a great place to start a band of would-be heroes!

Geographical Notes

To help follow things as the story unfolds, without the aid of a map, here are some geographical/regional notes. The easiest way to visualize it by geographical "bands" which go from north to south. There are 5 "bands" - the Utter North, the Northlands, the Midlands, the Southlands and the Utter South. Information on the Utter North and Utter South is very sketchy, so I won't be presenting much here, except to say the Dark Druids are rumored to inhabit a vast island - North of the Pillars of Heaven - in the Utter North.

The Northlands

The Northlands have three major areas, moving from West to East - the Western Wilds, the Lost
Northern Provinces and the Novantae Highlands.

The Western Wilds

Home to over a score of barbarian tribes - the Brigantes, the Nervii, the Coritani, the Suevi, the Allmani and others - that never knelt before the banner of Imperial Emor. Although numerous Imperial Expeditions crossed the Fodor River, they were never able to bring the tribes to decisive battle. Even though the tribes often fight among themselves, they always banded together to meet any Emorian threat.

Further west are the Blackpeak Mountains that are said to be the home of many tribes of Orcs. There is also rumored to lie somewhere in the Blackpeaks a place called the City of Endless Summer. No Imperial cartographer has ever ventured far into the Western Wilds and certainly not into the Blackpeak Mountains and so the exact extent of that range is unknown.

This area is bordered on the West by the Trackless Sea, on the North by the majestic Pillars of Heaven mountains, on the East by the Lost Northern Provinces and on the South by the Crescent Sea.

Each barbarian tribe has an animal totem and old Imperial writings tell of great bears, wolves, eagles and other beasts that would stalk foraging parties, appear at midnight in the proconsul's command tent and generally wreak havoc among the legions that crossed the river. In addition, the barbarian warriors, although undisciplined, showed no fear and would attack unceasingly, even when injured by wounds that would drop a normal man.

With the retreat of the legions, the barbarian tribes have raided across the Fodor River into the old Imperial Themes (Provinces) of Lords and Roses - sacking towns and villas, taking slaves and plunder all of value. For some reason, however, they have not attempted to cross the "Great Water" - as they refer to the Fodor River and settle the now largely abandoned lands. Sages speculate that some major taboo prevents them from doing so.

The Lost Northern Provinces

This area includes the former Imperial Themes of Lords and Roses. The former provincial capitals of Lords and Roses are but distant memories, one destroyed by a barbarian horde (Lords) and the other (Roses) destroyed by the Dark Druids - pulled down stone-by-stone in but a single night. Perhaps a score of settlements of any note still exist. Oar is the largest remaining town in the Lost Northern Provinces - a seaport with perhaps 5,000 inhabitants.

This area is bordered on the West by the Western Wilds, on the North by the Pillars of Heaven and the Great Northern Forest (The Darkwood), on the East by the Novantae Highlands and on the South by the Crescent Sea. The Dragon's Tail Range splits the area into two roughly equal portions along a North-South line.

The Lost Northern Provinces is the most isolated of all civilized areas. It requires either a dangerous sea voyage or a safer (but much longer) overland trip to reach the area from Emor, the Jewel Cities, Eastenmarch or the Sythian Federation. The Lost Northern Provinces are rich in natural resources - timber, raw ore of many varieties, furs, precious metals, gemstones and ruins.

The culture of the area is akin to Dark Ages Britain from our own history. A few isolated pockets of civilization trying to survive and keep the lamp of culture burning in the face of great odds. Much of the technology of Imperial Emor - aqueducts, indoor plumbing, luxury goods, formal magic academies and the ability to make advanced weapons and armor - has been lost. Many goods that are taken for granted on the streets of Emor must be inheirited, found or purchased for exorbitant prices in the Lost Northern Provinces.

The population is mostly human, although there are fair amounts of Halflings and Dwarves mixed among the population. As the human population has shrunk and receded into a small number of towns and villages, groups of elves have begun to repopulate the scattered forests of the northlands, but they still prefer to dwell in the warmer forests of the southlands.

The Novantae Highlands

The Novantae Protectorate never became an actual Imperial Theme. The area was too rugged and remote for reasonable Imperial administration - so several auxiliary legion posts were built, trade relations were established, a title of "Imperial Protectorate" was assigned to the region and the inhabitants were largely left to their own devices.

The region is bordered to the West by the Lost Northern Provinces, to the North by the Pillars of Heaven, to the East by the Eastern Barrier Mountains and to the South by Eastenmarch and the Crescent Sea.

Like the Lost Northern Provinces, the area is rich in natural resources, particularly mineral wealth, but the ruggedness of the terrain makes extracting said wealth and bringing it to market fairly difficult. There is also a thriving livestock industry, consisting primarily of hardy Highland Cattle, sheep and goats.

Culturally, the area resembles the Scottish Highlands and western Ireland from our own history. There are forty or fifty independent clans in the area, with each clan's first loyalty to itself. The fierce clansmen raid each others herds, engage in terrible blood feuds, drink to excess and hold regular games to show off their strength and prowess in battle. They are suspicious of outsiders, but it is rightly said that no truer friend exists than a Novantae Highlander - once you earn their trust!

The population is primarily human, with a heavy portion of Dwarves. In fact, a number of clans are made up entirely of Dwarves


The Village of Glynden

Location and History: Nestled betwixt two rocky ridges at the southern end of the Dragon’s Tail range lies the mining and farming village of Glynden. It began as a collection of ragged tents around a single mine shaft over 250 winters ago. Once a part of the Imperial Theme of Lords, Glynden is one of the few holdings in the Lost Northern Provinces that has not been overrun by barbarians or the Gnolls. Glynden was once the home of the 4th Cohort of the Rustica Auxilia and has significant, if crumbling, fortifications that have helped it survive. In addition, it is not adjacent to any of the major trade routes, so it attracts little attention.

Nevertheless, Glynden has survived ½ dozen barbarian incursions since the legions withdrew 30 winters ago. Several times, the village has come close to disaster, but has recovered each time. Several neighboring hamlets have been destroyed in recent years and their survivors now call Glynden home (Aquae Sulis, Ironoak, Greenspire and Bremerton - all but Aquae Sulis within five days walk of Glynden). Perhaps 700 souls now reside in Glynden and they make their living primarily from mining the rich iron and tin deposits in the surrounding hills and through farming.

Glynden boasts a large militia (about 100 – 10 always on duty, 50 within 1 hour, 100 with 3 hours) and their constant watchfulness help keeps danger at bay. Glynden is also the home of an ex-Emorian battlemage, who was mustered out of the legions just before they withdrew – Claudius Sentenius. “Uncle Claudius”, as the village children know him, is old and forgetful, but he can still call up some magical energy when the situation is desperate (he will also tutor aspiring wizards in simple spells, but the instruction process is long and arduous, as he often falls asleep during lessons or is too drunk to make much sense). The final reason for the village’s survival is that it lies within the shadow of Dragonspire Mountain. The barbarians, Gnolls and Dark Druids all give Dragonspire Mountain a wide berth, for it has an evil reputation.

Both legends and eyewitnesses agree that Dragonspire Mountain is the home of a great and terrible elder wyrm who has resided on the mountain’s peaks for over a century. The dragon does not bother Glynden or the other few surviving communities in the Lost Northern Provinces, but has been known to descend on large groups of armed men and utterly destroy them. Several barbarian hordes and Gnoll armies are said to have perished under dragon fire and claw. Also, no one has ever successfully visited the dragon’s lair (and lived to tell the tale). Those few that have ventured close to the summit and returned tell tales of being chased away by a band of fearsome rock trolls. The trails and paths that lead to the upper reaches of the mountain are strewn with the skeletal remains of those that have sought the wyrm’s treasure and failed (each skeleton is laid out in a neat pile, skull on top, with their mundane gear stacked neatly beside it – no treasure or magical items are ever found among the remains). Some few report seeing a tall, slender tower rising into the mists on the highest peak of the mountain, but most reporting such a sight were found wandering aimlessly about the base, dazed and confused.

Curiously, the great wyrm has never bothered Glynden and most of the villagers seek to discourage would-be adventurers from stirring up trouble on the mountain.

Leadership: Glynden is ruled by a “Council of Elders”. They meet weekly in the Council Chamber located next to the market square to administer justice and discuss problems facing the village. The Council meetings are generally open to all and usually take place on the evening of Market Day. See Important Personages for those who sit on the Council.

Trade/Outside Relations: Traders come to Glynden two or three times a year, trading finished goods and luxury items for iron and tin ore, foodstuffs and the hardy mountain ponies bred at several of the surviving villas. Only large, well-armed caravans make the trip and they are normally controlled by one of the trading families. Local craftsmen of note include a decent blacksmith, a good stonemason, an excellent leatherworker and a fair bowyer. All other finished goods must be imported (chief among these is metal armor – such as lorica hamata [chain mail] and the lorica segmentata [banded armor]). Horses, especially trained war mounts, are in very short supply (and very expensive), most families use mountain ponies, mules or ox-carts for transportation.

Other travelers are fairly rare, especially after the Suevi tribe sacked Bremerton 2 winters ago. Bremerton was the closest thing Glynden had for a trading partner, but the town, four days walk to the west and north, is now a deserted ruin. Those few that survived the attack now call Glynden home. Occasionally, a bard or tinker will stop in Glynden, bringing word from Oar or the Novantae Highlands. Also, adventuring bands regularly use the village as a way stop in their forays into the North.

As often as not, the bright-eyed, eager youths that leave Glynden boasting of the deeds they will do return hard-eyed with terrible wounds and even worse tales – or fail to return at all. The jaded gamblers at Nan’s Tavern now lay wagers on who will or won’t return and those that bet against the adventurers win all too often. Perhaps two in three of the lads and lasses that pass through Glynden as fortune seekers are never heard from again.

Important Personages: There are still several veins of iron and tin that are actively mined, with perhaps half a hundred miners working the lodes. All of the miners currently work for the Brathwaite Mining Company, run by “Boss” Bigglestrom Brathwaite, easily the richest (and most powerful) man in Glynden. Several smaller operations have closed in recent months due to cave-ins or monstrous attacks. Boss Brathwaite has hired the remaining workers from the shuttered operations and actually expanded his own. Some in Glynden grumble that the misfortunes at the other mining operations were no coincidence, but Brathwaite denies any wrongdoing. Boss Brathwaite sits on the Council of Elders.

Calian Cassuvius is probably the second most important citizen of Glynden, even though he doesn’t live in the village proper. He and his family live in Castellan Cassuvius a large, fortified villa an hour’s walk south of Glynden. He is a tall man of aristocratic bearing, although almost 70 winters have stooped his shoulders a bit. Local lore holds that the Cassuvius family has held the villa for over three hundred years!

The family Cassuvius still affects the style of Imperial Emor, in speech, dress and attitude. It is said that a visit to their holding is like returning to the glory days of the Empire, 200 winters hence. They hold a lavish banquet once a year, inviting the notables of Glynden and the other local villas. Calian regularly bemoans the fact that most “necessary luxuries” are so difficult to come by these days and is known to pay well for interesting works of art. The three greatest treasures that reside in Castellan Cassuvius, however, are Calian’s three daughters – Ludmilla, Drusilla and Carmilla – all great beauties of marriable age.

The ponies bred by Calian and his charges are said to be the swiftest and sturdiest within two weeks ride. Castellan Cassuvius also produces ample wheat and barley in its high-walled fields. Perhaps four score people call the Cassuvius compound home, and they are not counted among the inhabitants of the village. Calian Cassuvius sits on the Council of Elders. Three other fortified villas still exist, held by the Jucadius, Nacalius and Octorus families. Each of these families also holds a seat on the Council of Elders.

Young Father Thomas maintains the small abbey dedicated to the Church of St. Cuthbert. It is open to all that are “welcomed” into the Church. Father Thomas has ministered to the needs of the local parishioners since Father Holthyn disappeared while returning from one of the outlaying villas five winters ago. Two Acolytes and four Lay Brothers assist Father Thomas at the abbey. Father Thomas holds a seat on the Council of Elders.

Kyndalyn the Younger commands the village militia. His father, Kyndalyn the Fair, his uncle, Farinmail, and their pack of staghounds succeeded in defeating a large war-band from the Coritani tribe on a tall hill just to the southwest of Glynden. The Coritani, over 90 strong, came at the town in the dead of night, in a heavy snowfall, just after the Midwinter’s Eve celebration. Had it not been for the watchfulness of Kyndalyn and Farinmail, it is likely that the village would have suffered the same fate as many of the others throughout the North.

Some in the village reported hearing sounds of battle, but the swirling winds made it impossible to discern the direction. The following morning, the rising Eye of Pelor illuminated a terrible sight. Atop the rocky tor, not 700 paces from the village gate, lay Kyndalyn the Fair, dead and rimed in ice, twin blades still clutched in unfeeling hands, amidst a circle of fallen foes. Kyndalyn, Farinmail and their score of hounds had all traveled to the Deathsgate – but so had every single one of the Coritani! The grieving villagers built a lofty cairn over the brothers and their faithful hounds and to this day the hill is known as Kyndalyn’s Watch.

All of these events occurred 20 winters ago, when Kyndalyn the Younger was but a child. Today he is a grim-faced young man of few words. He drills the militia hard, but is regarded as a fair leader. It is said that he rarely sleeps and spends much time patrolling the countryside around Glynden. His slightly pointed ears and straw-colored hair betray his elven heritage. Kyndalyn the Younger holds the title of Constable of Glynden and sits on the Council of Elders.

Threats/Opportunities: The greatest threats to Glynden’s survival are the barbarian tribes of the Western Wilds and the tribes of Gnolls who live in the Darkwood. Raiding bands of numerous tribes have been seen in the area in the past several moons and the Council of Elder is concerned that one or more tribes may try to sack the village, destroying it as they did Bremerton

The entire North, however, is dotted with lost ruins. Cities, abbeys, towns, towers, old dwarven holds and deserted legion forts are everywhere. Many have undoubtedly been picked clean by bold adventurers, but who knows what may still lie buried out there.

Such concerns are for another day, however. Tomorrow is the harvest feast. It is a time for revelry and fun. There will be plenty of food and games. The crops that have been harvested will be sold and stowed away for the long winter. Merchants up from Oar will be present to buy ponies at the harvest auction and will also have many goods to sell. And at night, after the children are tucked away in bed, there will be the dance at Nan's and rumor has it that all three of the Cassuvius girls will be there…


Liquid Awesome
For the sake of completeness, here are the guidlines I had for character design. I stole most of them from other posters on the boards whose names are lost in antiquity.

Character Design:

The rules for stat generation are below. Here are the guidelines on what you can have and do for character design:

Replacement characters (if any are needed) will always start with XP equal to the average total of all the other PCs (including the one being replaced). If above level 1 they get equipment equal to 70 percent of the DMG guidelines for a character of their level. Otherwise if level 1 they get normal starting equipment.

All PC classes and races published in the PHB are open. I haven't made up my mind about the prestige classes. If you are specifically shooting for one of the prestige classes, let me know and we'll talk about it.

Variant First Level Multiclass characters as per DMG pg.40 can be made. For those who don't have a DMG, these rules just let you start as a multiclass character, even though you are only first level.

If you don't pay for the skill, you don't have it. This is mostly a note for Craft, Profession, and Knowledge skills. But applies to anything else as well. If you describe training in your background I expect to see at least one rank in the skills mentioned.

No character can have an evil alignment. Good is recommended but certainly not required.

Stat generation: The idea behind these guidelines is to get all the PCs to be close but not identical in stat points. This gives me a tight range I can use to judge power levels but keeps out the carbon copy syndrome.

Point Buy is REQUIRED as listed in the DMG pages 19-20.

Characters will start with 26 points and gain additional points as outlined below. The maximum allowed will be 32 points. If you fulfil more than six of the items below, you will not go over 32 points to spend on your stats. Depending on the additional material you submit, I may grant some "in game" bonuses such as extra equipment, starting money, etc. Obviously this extra material could also have the benefit of giving you and the other players a better idea of what your character is really like.

*1 for a background story that works with the campaign world. Must reference world elements at least four times. Minimum one typed page.

*1 more if the story ties together with one or more other PC's story(s). Must be at least a couple paragraphs or more on how they tie in. Cannot have 'just met recently'.

*1 more if your story fleshes out an element of the town or world that I've mentioned in my intro. The info you provide must meet my approval (obviously) and should be at least half a typed page. If I decide not to use your material, I'll still give you the point for the effort.

*1 if you have 1 or more major and/or 3 or more minor plot hooks built in. Plot hooks must be worked into background story in detail. A major plot hook is something that drives the story and gives the DM options to work with nearly every game session. It must be easy to work in under most normal circumstances. A minor plot hook is anything that can give such story ideas but will not do so consistently on a regular basis. Having an active career that can be a part of the roleplay and gives you an assortment of interconnections in the game would be a major plot hook. Having a family secret that might be exposed someday is a minor plot hook. The difference lies in how often they would come up in game.

*1 for an illustration. I don't care who draws it, as long as it's a representation of what they 'really' look like. Don't draw a frog and call it your character but a cartoony sketch is ok. You are encouraged to label equipment carried as well. The drawing should be something that helps people to visualize the character.

*1 for a painted miniature. I don't care who paints it or how good they are at it.

*1 for being from the campaign starting town of Glynden.

*1 for making a list of 5 or more personality traits that show why your character has their chosen alignment and 1 thing about them that is outside their alignment but why this doesn't change their alignment. Minimum 15 words per trait. Must be relevant to the alignment and show why it is such.

*1 for detailing the character's religious beliefs. Must be at least half a page or more. This is required for Clerics, Druids, and Paladins, optional for all other classes.

If you have other ideas for things I could add to this list please let me know. It will only serve to give you more options. Also note that while I asked that you have two characters ready to go in the event that the first one meets an untimely demise, there is obviously a lot of work involved in the character creation process outlined above. I'll try not to kill off your primary character on the first night so you have a bit of extra time to work out the background for the second one. In other words, you don't have to have both of them ready to go on night one.

A few other house rules to keep in mind:

I have a few relatively minor changes as to how I plan to govern the use of scrolls and spellbooks for wizards in my campaign. If you plan to play a wizard, let me know and I'll tell you the rules.

Although I have no plans to try to make this campaign deadlier than average, I do plan to "let the chips fall where they may". Unless you stray WAY off the path, the challenges you face will likely be tough but winnable. However, bad luck or stupidity can and perhaps will get you killed. I don't intend to fudge any rolls for or against the party. Therefore I will make all the combat rolls for the opposition out in the open where all of you can see the result.

But I also don't want to put the fate of my campaign and the work I've put into crafting a storyline entirely at the mercy of chance. To give you just a bit of an edge, I plan on giving out "chips" when your character performs an action that is particularly heroic or adds immensely to the enjoyment of the game. These "chips" can be redeemed at any time to re-roll dice on a one for one basis. You will only be allowed to spend a chip to change a die roll once. So if the red dragon bites you in half when I roll a 20 and you spend a chip and then I roll another 20, get ready to whip out that second character.

One other thing I want to try is a more tactile/visual way of keeping up with hit points. I plan to give each of you a small bowl to put some marbles in. Each one will represent a hit point (I may use "higher denomination" marbles when the hit points get higher than around 20). When you take damage, you take points out of your bowl and when you heal you will put them back. This way, at a glance, the other players and myself will have an approximate idea of how many hit points you have without asking for an exact number.

Jon Potter

First Post

Thanks for posting the background information. I had pieced some of it together from reading the story hour, but I appreciate you filling in the blanks.

And I can see why you decided to "steal" Old One's campaign world. It's very interesting and very unique as far as game worlds go. In terms of the real world, it does seem vaguely familiar. :D

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