The Key of the Fey!
- Thread starter Burchard
- Start date
To be fair, the product title is the title of the thread.
Huh. How well would it transfer across multiple systems?
Nothing a little stat conversion couldn't fix. If I had the time, I would do it but the real world keeps a lid on that plan. Everything used in Key is a unique build to typical creatures (to save GSL hassles and forcing the DM to flip through multiple books as much as possible) and only the major NPCs such as Stump, Hatchet and Jarod would need the work. If anyone ever happens to make these conversions to Pathfinder or other such systems, I'd be happy to post them to our site.
The only "limitation" would be how you use alignments for certain classes. 4e pretty much wiped them out so there's little need to worry about class restrictions but if you're one of the many who disregard alignments, shouldn't take much work at all.
Our group played the first session on Saturday night, and we had a blast. There was certainly some growing pains as we made the paradigm shift towards a mercenary campaign. We had to pause a few times for a brief discussion of "would your character really do that?" and "I'm not evil, I'm just greedy". Once we had it down, it worked very smoothly.
The adventure is broken down into four chapters and we completed two of them. I anticipate 1-2 more sessions to finish the adventure, most likely 2.
We had a rousing discussion after we packed our stuff away about the concept of a mercenary campaign and we all found that it offered something new, which is a very good thing for experienced role players. It was a refreshing change of pace for us. We also have a relative new gamer in our group, with perhaps a year or so of experience. The transition was much more difficult for him. He kept wanting to do evil things for the sake of evil, not necessarily evil things for the sake of coin. We had to remind him that we're not playing an evil campaign, but a mercenary campaign, and there are distinct differences.
We keep a campaign journal in a short-fiction format. I thought I'd post the first few chapters, not as a spoiler, but to give anyone interested an idea for the feel of a mercenary campaign. I'll omit anything that might tip the adventure to a potential player or DM.
Chapter One
The wagon jostled mightily against the rutted road. The fare through the Harrington woods towards the recently razed town of Bloomten was cheap for a reason. The driver, obviously drunk, hummed and sang various songs about fornication, interspersed with frequent belches and nose-clearings. Many of the common folk in the wagon covered their children’s ears and eyes as the driver burst into another refrain, followed by a hacking cough and well-practiced spit, as if going for distance.
Most of the travelers avoided eye contact with the four armed and armored men, particularly the one in the dark cloak that seemed to hide his face. The sense of relief was palpable when the driver stopped at the crossroads and announced that Bloomten fares would need to walk the last mile to town. Only a fool or a sword-for-hire would dare enter Bloomten after the Harad’adak orc tribe had laid waste to the small community. The first off the wagon was a massive human named Barringer. Built like a brick wall, he was both thick and hard. His shaved and stubbled head glistened with sweat as he pulled his pack off the wagon. Barechested and slightly pot-bellied, he slipped a loose cotton shirt over his torso and began to adorn his make-shift scale armor. Some large pieces were strapped over his shoulders and around his chest and he slung a honed battle axe from his back. All the while, he was watched by a man dressed in black leather, clearly a rogue, that had departed after him.
“I take it yer headin’ to Bloomten as well? Is it business or pleasure, friend?” asked Barringer, his deep voice booming.
“Is there a difference between the two?” smirked the thief.
Barringer let out a hearty laugh and agreed, instantly liking this man, who introduced himself as Hugh. They made small talk while keeping an eye on the other men that stepped off the wagon. One was clearly a tiefling paladin, although which god he worshipped was anyone’s guess. The tiefling, trying to play it cool, flipped the driver a coin and asked for a swig of ale. The man dipped a ladle into a small open-topped barrel and the tiefling gulped the warm ale, trying not to notice the flotsam floating in it. He then began to polish an ornate kopesh, wiping the dust from the road off the magnificent blade.
Barringer commented that the tiefling looked as though he’d only ever cleaned dirt off the blade and doubted it had ever truly gotten dirty. The comment was said loud enough for the tiefling to hear and he looked up, grinning.
“Perhaps you’d like to find out the hard way, my portly friend?” he bluffed.
“The name’s Barringer, and who said we’re friends?” laughed the fighter.
“Certainly not me, but since it appears we’re traveling together, we might as well avoid any trouble. I am known as Fear.”
“Fear, eh? Well, whatever floats yer boat…” Barringer trailed off as the cloaked figure leaped down from the wagon with an agile grace. The wind caught the corner of the man’s cowl and revealed ebony skin and elvish features. “What in the Nine Hells?!” muttered Barringer.
Hugh groaned and let out a sigh. “That one goes by the name of Kryxus. He and I have a…history.”
Kryxus gave Hugh a mock salute and began walking down the road towards Bloomten, making little effort to even acknowledge the others.
“I think I’m going to have a history with him as well, before all is said and done…” muttered Barringer, instantly disliking the dark elf.
Chapter Two
The forest was filled with summer birdsong and a cool breeze. The walk was gentle and the conversation light. Kryxus kept his distance from the rest of the foursome, which suited Hugh and Barringer just fine. They knew they were getting close when they passed an overturned wagon, two weeks or more of decay clearly evident on the unfortunate dead laying scattered on the side of the road. Black fletched arrows protruded from the bloated corpses, so many so that one looked to Barringer like a great, spiny cactus. He guessed correctly that many of the arrows were post-mortem, and the bodies were used for target practice.
Another fifteen minutes down the road and Kryxus suddenly darted into the brush, the others following suit. Hugh crept up to a vantage and saw a gang of orcs confronting a human. Hugh took note that the man was missing a hand and in its place was a hatchet. He also noticed an orc archer standing back with his bow drawn and a dead body at the human’s feet. He motioned for the others to approach quietly and watch what was about to unfold. Barringer squatted down next to Hugh and surveyed the impending fight.
“Tell you what, I’ve got two gold pieces on the human!” he wagered. Hugh took the bet, knowing that the archer would likely sway the scales into the orc’s favor. As the two watched, the orcs began to turn their threats into action, poking at the human with spears and trying to provoke him to action. Finally, one of the orcs lunged and the man swiped at the spear with his hatchet-hand, reversing his motion and backhanding the orc in the mouth. The orc grunted and the man brought the hatchet down on the left side of the orc’s next, biting deep into flesh. At the sight of blood, all hell broke loose.
Barringer rubbed his hands, pleased that ‘his horse’ was in the lead, but Hugh advised him to wait before counting his winnings. As they watched their wager, Kryxus crept. He worked his way through the brush towards the archer, hoping to come in on his flank. Two arrows flew into the melee, striking the man in the back and Barringer winced. Suddenly, a three-bladed object flew through the clearing, narrowly missing the archer. The spinning object, rolled over in the air and circled back to where it came from. The archer followed the path of the weapon and spotted Kryxus, who let out a curse in the language of the Underdark. An arrow flew from the bow and Kryxus avoided a grievous wound by springing to his side. The arrow sliced through his leather legging and bit into flesh, but it was a superficial wound.
Fear, not wanting to be left out of the sport, charged into battle, drawing two of the orcs away from their quarry. As he battled, Barringer and Hugh weighed their options. Finally, Hugh convinced Barringer that the bet was off, since Kryxus and Fear had intervened. Barringer reluctantly agreed and drew his battleaxe, jogging towards the nearest orc. He barked an insult to the orc who turned and charged. Barringer side-stepped and brought the axe down, missing the orc by a mere inch. The axe blade bit into soft earth and caught up the blade for a split second, long enough for the orc to drive the spear point deep into Barringer’s ribs. The large man winced, knowing that the wound was serious. He barreled into the orc, getting him in a headlock. From there, he brought the axe down right into the orc’s skull, delighting in the sound of cracking bone and the warmth of blood and brain tissue that gushed from the wound. It somehow made his own pain seem lessened.
The hatchet-handed man punched at an orc, drawing him into a feint. From there, the hatchet swiped low, disemboweling the orc with a sickening plop. The man then drove two orcs back with nothing more than a snarl and a look. He bade them closer with a taunt and they obliged.
But elsewhere, all was not well. Fear was being quickly overwhelmed. He bled freely from more than half a dozen wounds and the loss of blood was sapping his strength. Just before he fell, Kryxus rushed towards him, engaged the orcs before they could mutilate the unconscious paladin. The orcs were brought down by combined attacks and the mercenaries began tending their wounds. Curiously, they all looked at Fear and one another. The paladin was surely dying, but no one knew for certain if he was worth saving. After a few uncomfortable moments, the hatchet-handed man looked at them all incredulously and knelt to staunch the flow of blood and bring the tiefling back to consciousness. With a shrug, Barringer turned away to pick through the orc corpses for any valuables.
After helping the tiefling to his feet, the man introduced himself, saying that most people called him Hatchet. He then pointed to the dead man in the clearing and said he was his guide. He smiled and commented that at least now he wouldn’t have to pay him and Barringer chuckled, clearly cut from the same mold as Hatchet. Hugh and Kryxus noticed that the guide had fallen and his pack had split open. Kryxus snatched up a map and Hatchet demanded it back. They stared in silence for several seconds and Hatchet finally said that Kryxus could keep it, so long as he was allowed to take a quick look at it first. Kryxus unrolled the map and Hatchet nodded, seemingly in relief at the quick glance. Then he turned, waving his hand in a dismissing manner to the dark elf and stepped nearer to Hugh and Barringer.
“I’m heading to Bloomten, and I take it you are as well, eh?” asked Hatchet, swigging from his waterskin.
“Aye, we’re looking for pay and we’ve heard there’s sword work to be had there.” commented Hugh.
“That there is. Go see an orc they call Stump. He’ll have a job for you, I’m sure.” he replied.
“Are you lookin’ as well?” asked Barringer, mopping a light sweat from his brow.
“Nah, I’ve got a job right now, but it only pays enough for me, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it…” said Barringer, understanding when it was time to change the subject.
By this time, Fear was up and walking, having regained some strength. He winced against the many bandages as he began walking, but soon the pain was forgotten as the road to Bloomten was once again under his feet.
The adventure is broken down into four chapters and we completed two of them. I anticipate 1-2 more sessions to finish the adventure, most likely 2.
We had a rousing discussion after we packed our stuff away about the concept of a mercenary campaign and we all found that it offered something new, which is a very good thing for experienced role players. It was a refreshing change of pace for us. We also have a relative new gamer in our group, with perhaps a year or so of experience. The transition was much more difficult for him. He kept wanting to do evil things for the sake of evil, not necessarily evil things for the sake of coin. We had to remind him that we're not playing an evil campaign, but a mercenary campaign, and there are distinct differences.
We keep a campaign journal in a short-fiction format. I thought I'd post the first few chapters, not as a spoiler, but to give anyone interested an idea for the feel of a mercenary campaign. I'll omit anything that might tip the adventure to a potential player or DM.
Chapter One
The wagon jostled mightily against the rutted road. The fare through the Harrington woods towards the recently razed town of Bloomten was cheap for a reason. The driver, obviously drunk, hummed and sang various songs about fornication, interspersed with frequent belches and nose-clearings. Many of the common folk in the wagon covered their children’s ears and eyes as the driver burst into another refrain, followed by a hacking cough and well-practiced spit, as if going for distance.
Most of the travelers avoided eye contact with the four armed and armored men, particularly the one in the dark cloak that seemed to hide his face. The sense of relief was palpable when the driver stopped at the crossroads and announced that Bloomten fares would need to walk the last mile to town. Only a fool or a sword-for-hire would dare enter Bloomten after the Harad’adak orc tribe had laid waste to the small community. The first off the wagon was a massive human named Barringer. Built like a brick wall, he was both thick and hard. His shaved and stubbled head glistened with sweat as he pulled his pack off the wagon. Barechested and slightly pot-bellied, he slipped a loose cotton shirt over his torso and began to adorn his make-shift scale armor. Some large pieces were strapped over his shoulders and around his chest and he slung a honed battle axe from his back. All the while, he was watched by a man dressed in black leather, clearly a rogue, that had departed after him.
“I take it yer headin’ to Bloomten as well? Is it business or pleasure, friend?” asked Barringer, his deep voice booming.
“Is there a difference between the two?” smirked the thief.
Barringer let out a hearty laugh and agreed, instantly liking this man, who introduced himself as Hugh. They made small talk while keeping an eye on the other men that stepped off the wagon. One was clearly a tiefling paladin, although which god he worshipped was anyone’s guess. The tiefling, trying to play it cool, flipped the driver a coin and asked for a swig of ale. The man dipped a ladle into a small open-topped barrel and the tiefling gulped the warm ale, trying not to notice the flotsam floating in it. He then began to polish an ornate kopesh, wiping the dust from the road off the magnificent blade.
Barringer commented that the tiefling looked as though he’d only ever cleaned dirt off the blade and doubted it had ever truly gotten dirty. The comment was said loud enough for the tiefling to hear and he looked up, grinning.
“Perhaps you’d like to find out the hard way, my portly friend?” he bluffed.
“The name’s Barringer, and who said we’re friends?” laughed the fighter.
“Certainly not me, but since it appears we’re traveling together, we might as well avoid any trouble. I am known as Fear.”
“Fear, eh? Well, whatever floats yer boat…” Barringer trailed off as the cloaked figure leaped down from the wagon with an agile grace. The wind caught the corner of the man’s cowl and revealed ebony skin and elvish features. “What in the Nine Hells?!” muttered Barringer.
Hugh groaned and let out a sigh. “That one goes by the name of Kryxus. He and I have a…history.”
Kryxus gave Hugh a mock salute and began walking down the road towards Bloomten, making little effort to even acknowledge the others.
“I think I’m going to have a history with him as well, before all is said and done…” muttered Barringer, instantly disliking the dark elf.
Chapter Two
The forest was filled with summer birdsong and a cool breeze. The walk was gentle and the conversation light. Kryxus kept his distance from the rest of the foursome, which suited Hugh and Barringer just fine. They knew they were getting close when they passed an overturned wagon, two weeks or more of decay clearly evident on the unfortunate dead laying scattered on the side of the road. Black fletched arrows protruded from the bloated corpses, so many so that one looked to Barringer like a great, spiny cactus. He guessed correctly that many of the arrows were post-mortem, and the bodies were used for target practice.
Another fifteen minutes down the road and Kryxus suddenly darted into the brush, the others following suit. Hugh crept up to a vantage and saw a gang of orcs confronting a human. Hugh took note that the man was missing a hand and in its place was a hatchet. He also noticed an orc archer standing back with his bow drawn and a dead body at the human’s feet. He motioned for the others to approach quietly and watch what was about to unfold. Barringer squatted down next to Hugh and surveyed the impending fight.
“Tell you what, I’ve got two gold pieces on the human!” he wagered. Hugh took the bet, knowing that the archer would likely sway the scales into the orc’s favor. As the two watched, the orcs began to turn their threats into action, poking at the human with spears and trying to provoke him to action. Finally, one of the orcs lunged and the man swiped at the spear with his hatchet-hand, reversing his motion and backhanding the orc in the mouth. The orc grunted and the man brought the hatchet down on the left side of the orc’s next, biting deep into flesh. At the sight of blood, all hell broke loose.
Barringer rubbed his hands, pleased that ‘his horse’ was in the lead, but Hugh advised him to wait before counting his winnings. As they watched their wager, Kryxus crept. He worked his way through the brush towards the archer, hoping to come in on his flank. Two arrows flew into the melee, striking the man in the back and Barringer winced. Suddenly, a three-bladed object flew through the clearing, narrowly missing the archer. The spinning object, rolled over in the air and circled back to where it came from. The archer followed the path of the weapon and spotted Kryxus, who let out a curse in the language of the Underdark. An arrow flew from the bow and Kryxus avoided a grievous wound by springing to his side. The arrow sliced through his leather legging and bit into flesh, but it was a superficial wound.
Fear, not wanting to be left out of the sport, charged into battle, drawing two of the orcs away from their quarry. As he battled, Barringer and Hugh weighed their options. Finally, Hugh convinced Barringer that the bet was off, since Kryxus and Fear had intervened. Barringer reluctantly agreed and drew his battleaxe, jogging towards the nearest orc. He barked an insult to the orc who turned and charged. Barringer side-stepped and brought the axe down, missing the orc by a mere inch. The axe blade bit into soft earth and caught up the blade for a split second, long enough for the orc to drive the spear point deep into Barringer’s ribs. The large man winced, knowing that the wound was serious. He barreled into the orc, getting him in a headlock. From there, he brought the axe down right into the orc’s skull, delighting in the sound of cracking bone and the warmth of blood and brain tissue that gushed from the wound. It somehow made his own pain seem lessened.
The hatchet-handed man punched at an orc, drawing him into a feint. From there, the hatchet swiped low, disemboweling the orc with a sickening plop. The man then drove two orcs back with nothing more than a snarl and a look. He bade them closer with a taunt and they obliged.
But elsewhere, all was not well. Fear was being quickly overwhelmed. He bled freely from more than half a dozen wounds and the loss of blood was sapping his strength. Just before he fell, Kryxus rushed towards him, engaged the orcs before they could mutilate the unconscious paladin. The orcs were brought down by combined attacks and the mercenaries began tending their wounds. Curiously, they all looked at Fear and one another. The paladin was surely dying, but no one knew for certain if he was worth saving. After a few uncomfortable moments, the hatchet-handed man looked at them all incredulously and knelt to staunch the flow of blood and bring the tiefling back to consciousness. With a shrug, Barringer turned away to pick through the orc corpses for any valuables.
After helping the tiefling to his feet, the man introduced himself, saying that most people called him Hatchet. He then pointed to the dead man in the clearing and said he was his guide. He smiled and commented that at least now he wouldn’t have to pay him and Barringer chuckled, clearly cut from the same mold as Hatchet. Hugh and Kryxus noticed that the guide had fallen and his pack had split open. Kryxus snatched up a map and Hatchet demanded it back. They stared in silence for several seconds and Hatchet finally said that Kryxus could keep it, so long as he was allowed to take a quick look at it first. Kryxus unrolled the map and Hatchet nodded, seemingly in relief at the quick glance. Then he turned, waving his hand in a dismissing manner to the dark elf and stepped nearer to Hugh and Barringer.
“I’m heading to Bloomten, and I take it you are as well, eh?” asked Hatchet, swigging from his waterskin.
“Aye, we’re looking for pay and we’ve heard there’s sword work to be had there.” commented Hugh.
“That there is. Go see an orc they call Stump. He’ll have a job for you, I’m sure.” he replied.
“Are you lookin’ as well?” asked Barringer, mopping a light sweat from his brow.
“Nah, I’ve got a job right now, but it only pays enough for me, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it…” said Barringer, understanding when it was time to change the subject.
By this time, Fear was up and walking, having regained some strength. He winced against the many bandages as he began walking, but soon the pain was forgotten as the road to Bloomten was once again under his feet.
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