Seldarn Empire - The Mega-Module Jam

[arwink]

Over the years, I've accumulated a lot of adventures and other stuff that I havent really had a chance to use. When I came back from gaming after a short work-related break a month ago, I figured now was a good a chance as any to string some of these modules together.

The majority of the adventures will take place in Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, Malhavoc Press' The Banewarrens and a scattering of Dungeon and self-written adventures. This storyhour makes heavy use of both these adventures, and will contain spoilers for those who haven't played them

The Mega-Module Jam is one of two games currently running through the Seldarn Empire. If you're interested in seeing how the events of this game inpact in the other, go check out St Cuthebert's Crusaders

If you have questions, comments or suggestions about the past, present or future events and locations in the game, please head over to the Seldarn Empire Notes, Suggestion and Discussion Thread. If you're a player in my games, please keep out - we'll be talking about you over there

 

[arwink]

Current Cast

Durhon - Dwarven Barberian 2/Fighter 2
Warwind Treehugger - Elven Wizard 4
Brother Yip - Kobold Monk4
Calmert - Human Cleric of Heironous 4

Coming Soon

Ezekial - Human Rogue 2/ Fighter 2

Deceased
Taranos - Dwarven Cleric of Heironous 4

 

[arwink]

.The players handout at the start of the game

The History of Hommlet

Twenty-five years ago, the forces of evil and darkness fathered north and east of Hommlet and constructed a huge temple. This was a bastion for their armies of gnolls, bugbears, ogres, trolls and giants – not to mention the evil human masters of the place and the demons and other foul creatures that served them. From this awful place, the malevolent denizens unleashed earthquakes, storms fires and floods upon the countryside. Monsters were drawn to the area like steel to a lodestone. The Temple of Elemental Evil took three years to complete, but even in that short time, the forces of good knew that they could not abide such a place. The Armies of the empire rallied their forces and sacked the temple twenty-two years ago in a battle called Emridy Meadows (named for the site of the largest confrontation). Most of the evil forces were destroyed of driven off. The temple itself was greatly damaged, but the underground levels were extensive and dangerous even for those heroic folk. So the Temple of Elemental Evil was sealed with great magic, imprisoning a powerful demon within its confines.

Nine years later, bandits began troubling the area around Hommlet. Evil humanoids and strangely garbed priests were seen on the road. Within the following year, it became clear that the temple of Elemental Evil was rising again. This time, the folk of Hommlet and the surrounding area coordinated and fostered attacks by bands of adventurers against the ruined but still-occupied temple. Eventually, the evil was once again overthrown, and this time the temples dangerous lower levels were destroyed. Since then, the territory has prospered in the peace that has settled in, apparently for a long stay. Common wisdom has it that no more adventures can be had in Hommlet.

General Background

The battles of Hommlet have not been your battles. The four of you are veterans of Trollmist wars, fresh from five years on the front lines on the empires distant southern borders. There you faced death daily, holding back the barbarian hordes of trolls, orcs and ogres that poured out of the Mountains in a wave of destruction. Through a combination of skill, strength and luck, you have survived where many have perished.

Like many of the wars distinguished veterans, you were granted land as a gesture of thanks. Yours is a row of four houses in the village of Hommlet, far from the front lines and the ravages and excitement of war. The faded deeds are stowed in your pack, alongside the booty you liberated during the war and the few gold coins left after your soldiers pay. Some of the older veterans, survivors of other wars before the Trollmists, have warned you to expect little from your new abodes. You have taken this warning to heart, but you admit that after the years of strife you look forward to a peaceful place to rest

 

[arwink]

Sunday, August 13th, 518 AF

It's been a long, tired treck from Petrav to Hommlet, and the constantly overcast sky hasn't helped lighten anyone's mood. As they walk the rough paths that link the small town to the coastline metropolise, already one of the vetrans has a sinking feeling about their "reward."

Durhon sniff's the air as Hommlet comes in sight.
"Smells bad," he grunts. Warwind raises an eyebrow at the dwarf's comment, holding his breath against the dwarf's unwashed odor.

"It look's peaceful," Taranos tells him. "That looks good enough for me. It'll be nice to sleep without worrying a troll's going to spring upside my bead."

"Looks dull," Durhon counters. He burps loudly at Taranos before he can make any counter-claim.

The threatening clouds turn ugly as they arrive in town. They hang low and heavy in the sky, the smell and expectation of coming rain filling the air.

Yip is scampering off the moment they hit town, his brown-robed form skittering through the wide streets in search of his new home. He follows the direction on his deed to a small hut near the outskirts of town, a good three or four dozen yards from the closest buildings and a stone's throw from the small stream. His nostrils flare as he looks it over.

It's a ramshackle building, slightly larger than he's used too. He rummages around inside, examinging the dirt floor and the gaps between walls and roofing boards. It seems exposed to the young kobold, bred to wage battle in the tight knocks and crannies of a goblin lair. The absence of his brother monks just makes the hut seem more foriegn. Yip shakes his head and heads down to the stream to collect rocks. The dwelling may be crude, but he's slept in worse during the war. After collecting a score of small stones, he sets them down on the ground in the pattern his master taught him and settles down to meditate.

 

[Capellan]

RttToEE and the Banewarrens, eh? Here's hoping none of my players stumble across this thread or I'll have two future campaigns blown out of the water!

Not that I've even read either book yet - but I'm sure I'll get around to it sooner or later.

 

[arwink]

RttToEE and the Banewarrens, eh? Here's hoping none of my players stumble across this thread or I'll have two future campaigns blown out of the water!

Among other things. It's just starting slow until I have more time on my hands.

I might just duck up and emphasise the spoilers aspect in the first post.

 

[arwink]

Sunday, August 13th, 518 AF, Continued

Warwind and Taranos have both been been awarded huts on the northern side of Hommlet, their condition no better than Yip's. Warwind sets about making his dwelling as secure as possible, forcing slipped shingles back into space and trying to ensure there's at least a relatively dry space to store his spell-book when the rain begins to fall. Taranos does much the same, staring at the wooden roof shingles used on the hut in disgust. He makes a mental note to replace them with good dwarven slate when he can afford to have it imported from Petrav.

Durhon's hut is in worse shape than anyone elses, a ramshackle monstrosity on the towns edge near a druids grove. It looks as though it's holding together on hope and dirt, and the undisturbed, overgrown grass that surrounds it shows that few villagers seem to regard as safe. Durhon looks around the enterior and dumps his grimy army-roll on the dirt floor. A smull flurry of dust rises up from the floor. The dwarven warrior breaks wind and grins in pleasure.

Durhon's closest neighbour is looking on in horror as the grubby dwarf emerges from the hut. Durhon glances at him and offers a wide grin. "I need ale," he grunts at the frightened commoner. "Touch me ten inch layer of dust and you'll cop it." Hy heads to Yips hut, carrying the last of the beer he'd he'd brought with him for the journey.

Halfway there, the storm breaks and rain belts down on Hommlet. A flash of lightening lights up the sky, and by the time Durhon arrives at Yip's hut, he's sodden and starting to smell like a damp goat. Yip is still meditating, the still kobold seemingly unbothered by the rain falling through the roof. Durhon leans low and pokes a scaly arm.

"Oy."

Yip's eyes open, the red pupils staring into Durhons.

"I've got ale. No Food," Durhon yells. "If you got any of that food you runts eat, we'll trade."

Yip nods and opens the pouches of nuts and berries he'd gathered on the trail. They sit, nibbling on the scavenged food and drinking the sour ale. Eventually Taranos arrives, in much same position after finding the supply store closed for the storm. He throws another skin of ale into the mix and tells them Warwind's gone to sleep in her ramshackle home.

"Bloody treehugger," Durhon grumbles. "How'd we en' up in the same vilage as 'im?"

The floor on one side of Yip's hut starts to turn muddy. The two dwarves and the kobold say little, just watch the puddle grow and drink ale. Eventually they all fall asleep in yips hut, Durhon sleeping blissfully in the mud puddle while Taranos and Yip struggle to stay within the patch of dry soil.

 

[GreyShadow]

So far so good. Rain and booze. How can one go wrong with that.

Looking forward to the future.

Cheers

 

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF

It's a warm, spring morning. The storm of the previous night is over, but several dark clouds are still lingering in the sky.

Warwind has spent a misserable night in his hut, haddled underneath the threadbare blanket he was issued at the start of the Trollmist wars and cursing the incompetent beauracrat that awarded him a hut in the midst of no-where. His waterproof pack keeps his spellbooks and scrolls safe, but the water dripping through the ceiling holes is hard to ignore.

Taranos' evening has been even worse, huddled on a small patch of dry land, trying to avoid the scaly claws of the kobold sleeping next to him. Waking to a slight hang-over and a headache the next day does little to cheer him up.

Despite the misserable conditions, both are up not long after dawn. They set out to explore the town, buying a few days worth of food from the local grocer. They meet beside the barrels of salted jerky, and fall into discussing their plans. Both are eager to repair their homes, and quickly set about finding the location of a local lumbererto get the necessary materials.

Yip is awake by midmorning. He blinks in the morning sun, looking at the snoring form of Durhon still asleep in a muddy corner of the hut. The carefully gathered pouches of nuts and berries are gone, a large majority of them deep in the stomach of his dwarven houseguests. Shaking his head, Yip settles down for a brief mornings mediation. He has no food and little skills suitable for this alien environment. The church has provided for his needs for years, kept him housed alongside his brothers and sisters in monestries around the empire. The sudden feeling of freedom that comes with his new hut is frightening, and the requirements of fitting into a new village where he is the only one of his kind a challenge he's unused to facing. It takes but a few minutes of meditation for him to plot a course of action. He needs a job, something that will find him both community acceptance and earn some of the strange gold coins the humans use to buy food and ale.

The slumbering form of Durhon breaks wind as Yip steps out of his house. Yip finds himself fervently wishing the dwarf is gone by the time he returns.

The small meadow between Yip's hut and the rest of the village is strewn with children playing in the mud and sunshine. Yip strides purposely towards them, his small head held high. He's not thirty feet from the hut before children suddenly surround him.

"Who are you?"
"What are you?"
"Are you a monster?"
"You're so itty-bitty?"
"Are you going to eat me?"

Yip is barraged by questions faster than he can answer, and it's not long before the children slowly start to reach out and touch his scaly skin. The attention flusters the small monk, and he's soon struggling to free himself from the small crowd. The children continue to follow him, a thick muddle of limbs and voices that surrounds him like a maze. After a few moments, Yip snaps. He raises his hands into a defensive poster and snaps at closing hands with his sharp teeth. The change in the crowd of children is immediate.

"EEEEEEEEEHHHHH!"
"Moooooonnnnsteeeeer."
"Daddy, the monster biiiiit me."

They sprint off in all directions, running to hide behind houses, bushes and mothers skirts. Yip stands in the middle of the field, suddenly alone. He has the sinking feeling that the first impressions he's making in Hommlet have not been good.

To be continued...

 

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued


Warwind and Taranos get the first load of lumber to their homes. Taranos offers to help the elf with his repairs, figuring that making one hut a dry place to sleep fast is better than getting two huts done in twice the time. After the elf's hut is done, they'll both work on getting Taranos' place in working order.

Warwind isn't thrilled about sharing space with the dwarven priest, but finds it hard to argue against his logic. One look at the muddy interior is all he needs. He readily agrees.


Durhon wakes up to find he's been blowing small bubbles into the muddy floor of the hut. His beard is streaked with grime, his clothes are filthy and he has the slightest of hangovers. Obviously, he was doing something wrong last night. Things should be much worse.

He checks his coin-purse. There's still a few gold there, so obviously the kobold runt has refrained from riffling it during the night. Not that Yip's ever done so, but Durhon's sure the stinking runt is planning to sooner or later. He looks at the small collection of coins, struggling to remember where the nearest tavern was located.

It's only a five minute walk away. Durhon checks the position of the sun and figures it's about midmorning. He's still a few hours behind.

There are seceral children hiding in the bushes around the hut, eyeing the reatreating form of Yip as he heads towards a cluster of homes. One of them sees Durhon emerge and watches the giant war-axe on the dwarf's back with wide eyes. Durhon glares at him.

"Whatch out," he growls. "I bite."

The children flee in a matter of seconds.

Durhon catches up with Yip as the kobold is looking at the row of houses in the village. The kobold seems bewildered, almost lost.

"What are you doin'?" Durhon barks.
Yip shrugs.
"Looking for...work?" he suggests. After years training to hunt thieves in sewer tunnels and achieve inner enlightenment, Hommlet's peaceful cobblestone paths are an enigma.
"Nope," Durhon grunts. "Come with me and get some ale."

Yip sniff's the dwarf's odor. Durhon isn't a pleasant being to spent time around, but at least he's a known quantity. And one of the joys Yip's discovered since being freed from his order does seem to be a good cup of ale...

The two of them head to the nearest tavern, a ramshackle place called Terrigans. Inside it's much worse - the furnture has a patched appearance after living through too many brawls, and the low-hanging roof is streaked with smoke and a variety of nicks and cuts.

Durhon gets them a table in the corner, holds up a pair of stubby fingers to the bartender. Almost immediately they are served large tankards of watery ale.
"Gar," Durhon grunts after the first sip. "For a moment there I thought this was my kind of place. Flamin' Rat-piss."
They drink in silence, Durhon quaffing his ale with a scowl while Yip holds the tankard to his lips with both claws, trying his best to navigate the human-sized vessel.

By the second ale they start staring at the taproom. It's almost empty at this time of morning, with only two other patrons around. One is a human in dark, spiked armor who seems to stare at Yip intensely. The other is a gnome in grey robes who's glaring at the kobold with undisguised hatred. Durhon notices their looks with something approaching glee. He lets rip an enourmous belch, orders another two drinks and grabs yip by the arm.

"Cummon Runt, it's time to meet the locals."