Where Lothar Sees the Ocean, and Sings a Chanty

by Floyd Fiftynames, Licensed Bard

After Lothar and his friends killed the werewolf lord in the back of Jonas the Gnome's Oddities Shop, they learned a few new lessons:

1. Werewolf Lords are hard to kill, even for five highly trained evil dispatchers
2. Walls are thinner than doors
3. Killing a monster who reverts back to a man upon death means it's time to go for everyone involved

And so it was that Jonas came to stop having a shop in Aaron's Port, but that seemed like a small part of the larger overall story (only time will tell), especially when compared to the party's first boat ride.

Lothar had seen plenty of magic in his life by this point. He had stood on the edge of a mountain, overlooking forever, and he had seen the great chasm, which seemingly had no bottom, but as he looked out over the water, truly for the first time that morning (their previous trip to the docks had been after sunset, when the true majesty of the sea could not be fully appreciated), he felt, for the very first time, that he was seeing something infinite.

What it is about the mysteries of the great water which draw men in, this bard cannot say. He comes from a long line of earth dwellers, of proud gnomes who came from beneath the hills and lived among the rocks and soil. The ocean is not in his blood, but for men, it's different. For humans, the sea is somehow their mother, and it's terrible wrath is a small price to pay for the sound of it's song, and the embrace of the waves.

Lothar took well to being on a boat. After a few days in, he could see an alternate life for himself, had he not become a hero, wherein he could have been a sailor, and plied his tanner trade aboard a mighty sailing vessel. He celebrated nightly with the ship's crew and the other passengers, finding a solace and relief he had not known for some time.

In the meantime, Lioto and Salem were making friends - members of Lioto's order, who were undertaking a pilgrimage. One admired Lioto very much. The other took himself very seriously. Ajanni became a seagull to learn more about the high ship walls that came up every night, and discovered the ship was being driven by water elementals at night to make it go faster. Riordan took the party to see the captain, and let him know they were wise to him, but had no issues with this practice. In fact, the party offered their heroic services to him, should the need arise. The captain thanked the boys, and assured them he would call on them if trouble found their voyage.

Sure enough, trouble found them.

FF

Boys Becoming Men, Men Becoming Wolves

by Floyd Fiftynames, Licensed Bard

Riordan could've resorted to violence, but he didn't. It was, as the storytellers say, a sign of character growth. The burgeoning bard was directed by the unscrupulous captain to retrieve his money from the boatswain, a clear misdirect that would lead to violence, but by employing a bit of arcane trickery - though we like to think of it as "the 'ole charm" - Riordan co-erced an admission of truth out of the boatswain, and subsequently, the captain, and walked away with the refund he sought.

-----

"Lothar," Salem asked, later that night, as the gang went out to celebrate with a shopping trip and some drinks in the big city, "we need to get on the boat in the morning. Make SURE they don't get into trouble."

Lothar wanted to do right by Salem. Sometimes he felt bad for the young cleric. Lothar and Ajanni had processed the deaths of their families through their anger (or so at least Lothar suspected of Ajanni before this very night, but he would soon discover there was deep-seated emotional scarring that would direct his dark friend towards the path of self-destruction), but Salem, while ostensibly an orphan, had a father figure whom he'd lost - Fhaerris. The loss of Oakshadow's religious patriarch had imbued Salem with a deep sense of purpose, which Salem had been subjecting on the others by requiring the regular observation of church services. Lothar had long been patient about church, but the peer pressure of 150 was somehow more tolerable than being part of a congregation of half a dozen. There was a lot more eye contact from the pulpit. Our large hero hoped that the group's trip to the Regian center would satisfy his need for religious inclusion, and bring about some sort of catharsis regarding the death of his mentor.

At this point, I should probably clarify that Lothar didn't really grasp such thoughts in quite as much depth as I've illustrated here - his capacity for understanding his own feelings was limited enough, and such an insightful analysis of the emotional needs of his companions was outside of the locus of his faculties. I, on the other hand, have enough respect for you, my audience, to give you the facts of the case, and not talk down to you. Incidentally, that hat at the front of the stage - you might as well just treat that like a tip jar. Happy Yule to all!

Anyway, Salem stayed behind while the others took off for a few drinks. Afterwards, at Ajanni's urging, the group visited an oddities shop, where the druid sought out an ingredient for the voluntary transformation into lycanthropy. This revelation raised red flags among those assembled, including the gnomish shopkeep, who reluctantly agreed to pursue a lead he knew of, and invited the group back later that night.

At another bar, Lothar found himself approached by a city guard, who escorted him to a private office where he and his companions were relocated with Elfred. The reunion was very emotional for Lothar and his uncle, who had not yet communicated with Corwin Janus, and until now did not know that the group had survived the burning of Oakshadow. Riordan caught Elfred up on what they had been up to, and confirmed Elfred's worst fears about the other members of the town. In addition, Elfred assuaged the fears of the boys concerning Sir Bardin's involvement in the atrocity, though he could not do the same regarding EVERYONE who may have wished ill of the town. The messenger shared what information he knew about the beaked men, and after a time, Elfred had to go on his way, and the Band of the Red Oak had to go theirs.

The hour was growing late, so the gang returned to the shop, and the gnome confirmed he had spoken to his source - a fellow named Vargas*, and that Vargas was very interested in meeting with the boys after the gnome had described the group to him. Upon learning this, Riordan told the gnome the truth about Vargas, and the shopkeep nervously informed him that one of Vargas' compatriots was in the shop, waiting in the back, at this very moment. The group gave the gnome a chance to beat a hasty exit, and then steeled themselves for a showdown. Lothar grabbed his axe, and silently apologized to Salem for breaking his promise.

FF

*Vargas was the Abbott of the Monastery where the monks were a secret coven of werewolves.

In Which Lothar Has Someone for Dinner

by Floyd Fiftynames,

Lisenced Bard

Soljus helped Lothar & Co. return to the cavern from which they came, and the party decided to head up and check on Mick, Gahiji, the wolves, and the wagon before getting some rest and heading back to continue searching for baddies. However, their plans were deterred when they resurfaced and discovered that a mighty squall had blown through the area, and Mick and the canines were nowhere to be found. Ajanni tracked their path to a nearby farmhouse, where they found the party's standardbearer, along with the dogs, safe and sound. The house's owner was nowhere to be found, which Mick explained was the way he found the homestead. Mick then shared the dinner he'd prepared with the gang. 

Something was clearly suspicious in all of this, so the party did some investigating, and discovered that the meat they were eating was the home's owner, whom Mick had killed and prepared for eating. A wave of revulsion and horror overtook our heroes, and Riordan, being the one who hired Mick, took it upon himself to interrogate (Mick had been introduced to cannibalism out of necessity in his youth, and turned to it now and then when food became scarce), and summarily execute his charge. The experience did not sit well with any of the assembled, but the party found themselves at a loss to come up with a better solution in retrospect. 

The group lit out from the farmhouse and continued on their way towards Sea Salem. Along the way, they passed through a poorer duchy known as Errond's Port, and were accosted by guards of the local lord, acting independently, with the intent of capturing the group and taking their wealth. The party, however, was able to quickly dispatch the ruffians, and Lothar chased down and caught the final assailant, who tried to flee when it became clear they were fighting a losing effort.

The party took the would-be thief to his lord, and reported him, where they discovered the decrepit state of affairs in the land. The lord, an elderly dwarf named Eliphilet, and the party agreed to call it square (the party had returned all the goods of their assailants to the dwarf), and negotiated for safe passage to Aaron's Port en route to Sea Salem. They were escorted by a guard named Ross, whom Riordan hired after having the chance to get to know the young man. Ross was proscribed to head for the Stein & Shield, where he would wait for the party's return from Sea Salem in a few months' time. 

The party proceeded on to Aaron's Port, and got their first taste of a true metropolis. The group marveled at the number of shops, and the sheer city-ness of it all. Along the way, they made the acquaintance of a man who sold spell components under the auspice of oddities, and met a retired druid who ran a stable in the city. This druid agreed to care for the dire wolves while the party was in Sea Salem (where their presence could have caused the group trouble), in exchange for Ajanni taking the druid's (Simon) son, Simon the lesser, on as an apprentice. 

The party also visited the cathedral, where Salem introduced himself to the clergy and told them of his intentions to be made a full priest of Regius. Riordan confessed his murder of Mick, and sought absolution, and the priest who heard his confession told him to forgive the next man who wronged him.

The party made their way to the docks to book passage on a ship. While en route to the docks, they saw King Halfred on his way from his castle to a carriage, accompanied by Lothar's Uncle Elfred. Lothar elected not to disturb his uncle, as he was in the company of the King, and Lothar did not wish to interrupt, and run the risk of displeasing the regent.

At the docks, Riordan negotiated for passage on a ship, which he did with some difficulty. Shortly afterwards, he discovered that he was being severely overcharged, and he attempted to get a refund on his purchase, but this did not go well.

FF

List of Current Living NPC's

I thought it might be helpful to have a current list of living NPC's that you have encountered.  This list is not exhaustive, but it should cover all of the major NPC's you have met.

Darsan - Head of the Adventurer's Guild in Ashvale
Eldor - Key of Brilen's Wood
Harion - Master of Arms for Axewith Keep in Rilen's Field
Akor - Capt. of the Guard for Bardin's Keep
Bertok - Priest at Bardin's Keep
Galdarond - Scout Master at Bardin's Keep
Sir Bardin - Protector of Southwest Westwich
Brias and Myrna - Dwarven Farmer and his wife met in Brilen's Wood
Ceridwen - Head of the Band of the Unclaimed
Dydoc - Key of Rilen's Field
Halfred IV - King of Rilen's Field
Pyrion Greywind - Capt. of Royal Guard at Errond's Port
Darlowl - Ranger that works out of the Stein and Shield
Elena Moondagger - Owner of the Stein and Shield and veteran of the Savage Wars
Anders the Blessed - Current High Revelator
Vargas - Werewolf Lord from the Abbey of the Moon
Sir Corwin Janice - Head of Regian Forces on Westwich
Arkip - Halfling Thief met outside of Summerkeep
Eliphilet - Elderly Duke outside of Errond's Port
Capt. Stone - Head of Eliphliet's guard
Major Ross - Riodrin's factor at the Stein and Shield
Fromor - Priest in Summerkeep
Elfred - Lothar's Uncle and Royal Messenger
Simon the Elder - Stable Master/Retired Druid in Errond's Port
Simon the Lesser - Ajani's apprentice
Emerson - Party torch bearer
Rahu the Hunter - Name given by Unclaimed Men
Curu -Centaur met at The Stein and Shield
Rogers Wesley - Member of the Adventurer's Guild in Ashvale


I am sure I have forgotten some, so please feel free to add to this list.

The Curse of the Enormous Blessing

By Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

Two wishes.

Fuck.

As a heroic, ass-kicking force to be reckoned with, Lothar was coming along nicely. As a wise and emotionally stable, fully-developed human person, however, he still had a ways to go.

As Riordan had recently explained to him, drawing from a Deck of Many Things was a lot like playing Regian Roulette. There were very good outcomes, and there were very bad outcomes. Having elected to draw three cards was a foolish recklessness that Salem could scarcely stand to watch, and he told the barbarian as much, and in a combination of words that Lothar understood and didn't in equal measure. But Lothar had been on a bit of a hot streak, lately - he's slain a dragon skeleton with his magic helmet and escaped a cave-in, to boot, and now, here they were, in the cave dwelling of an immortal, talking four-foot snow monkey, and so our young hero had every right (in his mind) to feel like he was on the right end of good fortune after a painful and scary year. And so it was that he declared to draw three cards from the deck.

And, as is afforded by the legends of the deck, Lothar drew three positive results. Those who bore witness - Riordan, Emerson, Salem, and Soljus - were amazed, and Lothar himself felt such an exhilaration that he had to sit down for a moment, just to take stock of what had happened. As he did, he finally allowed his mind to catch up with him to what had been happening over the last week or so.

Just a few days prior, he was as far away from home as he had ever been, and then suddenly, he was so much farther than that - so far that Ashvale, Sea Salem, and all of the other places the party had been and were headed seemed like neighboring cities by comparison. By Soljus' admission, the group had fought their way out of that cavern of undead monsters and ended up on the side of a mountain in the Kingdom of the Maw, which was thousands of miles away from where Lothar had been born, and, if Lothar could understand the long-form patterns of human civilization and movement (he didn't), maybe a hundred generations removed from his closest living relative.

And that's when it hit him. See, Lothar had drawn three positive cards. The first had improved his skills, combat prowess, and other attributes in such a way as if he had spent many months in adventureous combat. The second gifted him with the ability to avoid an unforseen catastrophe at some point in the future. But the third card granted him two wishes.

Thankfully, Riordan was able to provide some explanation. The wishes granted to Lothar were those of a type that employed arcane magic, and therefore, had their limits, but one thing a wish could be used for was to revive a person who had died. The process, as Lothar understood it, took exactly two wishes for each person who was to be revived.

The realization filled Lothar's psyche with the notion of a terrible choice - should he choose to, Lothar could bring one of his family members back from the dead, and soon, his mind was racing with the concept of what could be done in this situation, and more dreadfully, what should be done. Who would be afforded this honor? Furthermore, would it be considered an honor? Lothar believed strongly in the goodness of his father, his grandmother, and his siblings - surely they would be enjoying heaven's rewards right now, and would they want to come back to such a world that took it's toll on them so terribly? And if he should reconcile that bringing one of his beloved back to life would be welcomed by the individual, who would it be? How could he choose between them? Just entertaining the idea filled him with tremendous guilt as he devised reasons for their elimination from the running - his father and his grandmother had lived full and complete lives compared to his brothers and his sister, and he could not imagine his brother would welcome the idea of returning to a world in which everything he loved - his betrothed, the family business - were destroyed as well. And so it fell to Georg and Elke, and in consideration of them, Lothar felt beyond his capabilities as he tried to consider the merits of each. Elke had been taken out of this world with only ten years of life lived. She displayed so much promise and potential, and she seemed very deserving of a chance a full life in the world. And then there was Georg - just an infant. Who knows what he would have grown up to become? And here was where Lothar's lack of wisdom made him feel very inadequate. Was it wrong for Lothar to favor Elke in this matter only because the task of raising an infant baby was something Lothar was wholly unprepared to do?

In the midst of it all, Lothar turned his attentions back to the deck. As he stared at it, he contemplated the nature of fortune, both good and bad. Was their really such a thing? Or was circumstance and opportunity merely a tool to be used in what manner the canny individual saw fit? Certainly these wishes could be seen as a boon, but to what end? All it would gain Lothar is something he wanted. The easiness of it all would not make him a better person, and he could already sense the growing envy of his peers as they realized what he possessed, and he feared they would secretly want it for themselves, and think ill of him for having something they desired. And for everything that the wish could afford him, he knew he would spend the rest of his life thinking about all the things it couldn't.

Three good results. Well played, Deck of Many Things. Well played.

FF

Is There No Rest for the Living Dead?

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Lisenced Bard

If this Bard has learned anything from his adventures, it's this:

1. Beware of one-way portals.
2. Always learn Feather Fall.
3. Undead work long hours.

For Lothar, maxims 1 & 3 were at work against him and his friends as they fought a near continuous battle against a seemingly never-ending onslaught of wights, wraiths, zombies, spectres, and other manner of the formerly alive. Of particular consternation to Lothar was the Helm of Brilliance he wore atop his head; originally, he'd hoped to keep his use of the helm infrequent and low-key, preferring it's ability to make his axe a flaming weapon over the one-time use jewels. But as the battle wore on, Lothar began to realize that if he didn't reach for his secret weapon more often, the likelihood of someone in the group getting killed was only going to increase. Even the timely arrival of Salem did not abate the damage taken by the party.

So, Lothar burned through two of the Fireball gems, four of the Wall of Fire gems, and one of the Prismatic Spray gems in an attempt to keep his party on their feet and strong. The group had hoped to explore and map out this subterranean realm, but in the course of two days, they had not uncovered much in the way of new ground. Soon the question would shift to how the party was going to get out of this dungeon, and how they would find their way back to Mick, Gahiji, and their horses up above.

FF

New Friends and Enemies

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

Before leaving Ashvale, Lothar and his friends met an elf named Lioto, who had spent many years studying at the monastery in the city. Now, he was ready to venture out onto his own, and as he was making a pilgrimage to Seah Salem, it was decided upon that the Band of the Red Oak would travel with him for their mutual benefit.

Lioto was quick on his feet, helpful, polite, and neither quiet nor loud. All, including Lothar, took to him quickly.

A couple of days into their journey, the group discovered a subterranean entrance in the woods not far from the path - so discovered by Ajanni and Gahiji as they moved about in hunt for that night's supper. The consensus was that investigating the cavern was going to be beneficial, and the party disappeared down below ground, while Mick remained behind with the canines and the livestock.

Down in the cave, after battling a few strange underground creatures, the group came upon a portal, and after passing through, found themselves crawling from room to room combating several unsavory monsters - the undead, specifically zombies, wights, and a couple of pesky wraiths. The persistence of these creatures caused Lothar to fly off into a rage, wherein he killed many foes, but emerged from the skirmish quite winded, and before the threat was fully dealt with. At the suggestion of the party, Lothar utilized his Helm of Brilliance, but what was intended to be one use of the helm's multiple gems quickly escalated into five. Knowing the helmet had a limited shelf life if used too quickly, Lothar resolved not to use it again unless the situation were truly dire.

FF

In Which Lothar and Co. Improve Their Material Situation

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

The sad truth about world-saving heroes is that they're not saving anything without the occasional equipment upgrade. No great warrior ever charged into battle against a wyrm or a lich wielding a garden-variety, run-of-the-mill sword or axe with the expectation of success. These mundane items suit your goblins and highway bandits, but the encounter with the werewolves was illuminating to the Band of the Red Oak, especially Lothar, who had never been greatly enamored of material possessions not crafted by his own hands. Now, however, he realized he was reaching the limits of what trade could offer in terms of protective gear (he had made the upgrade from wood to steel in weapons some time ago).

The bounty from the corrupted monastery represented a veritable fortune to the boys, who couldn't spend that kind of coin in a lifetime had they remained simple villagers. They were not simple villagers, however, and Lothar, Riordan, Salem, and Ajanni found themselves in a world of amazing weapons and armor, and each one of them came away from the shops significantly upgraded. Not only that, they managed to come away from the experience with a little money left over in their pocket - for Lothar, at least, this was significant, as he had never carried more than a single gold piece at one time, and when he did, he worried about how he would change it out for silver and copper, which would have been significantly more useful to him in his current economic condition.

In a large city such as Ashvale, a gold piece, Lothar learned, represented a decent earning wage for a week of a man's time. Our young hero accompanied his friend Riordan to a local tavern, where he watched as the bard hired a retired warrior named Mick to be the company's standard bearer, then paid him in advance for the year. Mick, for his part, was thrilled. Lothar could only wonder what Emerson, Riordan's torch bearer, thought of the scene, and whether being present for the hiring would inspire loyalty on his part, or simply inspire him to ask for a raise.

That night, as Lothar set up his tent inside the stable of the inn where Riordan and Salem were staying, he looked at his new possessions - the axe, the hide armor, the helm - and he wondered what his father and his grandmother would say if they could see him. Just a couple months prior, he would have gladly traded any of these amazing things to have them back. Now, however, he did not miss them any less, but time was beginning to temper his grief, and if Lothar was ready to accept the inexorable march towards the future, he was comforted that he could do so properly equipped.

FF

The Werewolf Song

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

Werewolves?
Therewolves,
Holy liars
disguised as friars
and hiding within Regus' walls,

They're hairy,
that's scary,
but all their might
don't make them right
it just means they've got some balls!

The order of the Red Oak
was travelin' up north, you see -
performing a job for their new guild
to prove that they were most worthy,
gruesome deaths had been reported,
the kind of which were too well known
to Lothar and his childhood friends,
who'd seen it near their home!

The telltale signs, they all were there,
the maulings, and the fairy glow,
but to the surprise of our heroic friends,
the true culprit was yet unknown!
But thanks to a vision
of Salem, the young priest,
the party would soon discern
the victims of a wolfman feast!

Werewolves?

Therewolves,

Holy liars

disguised as friars

and hiding within Regus' walls,

They're hairy,

that's scary,

but all their might

don't make them right

it just means they've got some balls!

Up to the monastery

did our heroes make their way,

and upon their arrival

did the Abbott bid them stay!

And after late-night snooping

did yield evidence of the cabal,

Ajanni, Riordan, and the rest

made preparations for a brawl!

The wolfmen revealed themselves

upon their morning prayer,

and more than thirty were therefore found

to dwell within this lair!

The Red Oak gang, they held their ground,

in face of the attack,

And to their surprise, the Order of the Sword,

showed up to have their back!

Werewolves?

Therewolves,

Holy liars 

disguised as friars

and hiding within Regus' walls,

The Abbott fled,

The rest are dead,

Someday he may come back,

but now he knows the acorn of the Red Oak

is a very tough nut to crack!

FF

Session 6

Session 6
Date: 7/1/12
Attending: Chris, Jake, Dave, Joey, Ben
Summary: Party decides to investigate ruins to the North, find border markings and pass into Brylan's Wood. Visit with a dwarven farmer, meet Rhau who reveals himself as the man who shot the black arrows.
Foes Defeated: None
XP: 400

Session 5

Session 5
Date: 6/24/12
Attending: Chris, Jake, Dave, Joey, Ben
Summary: Left the keep which was under high alert because of plague rumors. Returned to Oakshadow. Town prepares the for the big Feast Day. During evening service beings dressed in outfits resembling birds (long beaks, talons) arrive, begin burning town and paralyzing villagers. Party tries to fight but are forced to flee while Farris covers. Retreats to Farris' cabin, find tunnel to Druid Grove. Return in morning Oakshadow has been slaughtered. Search for and find provisions in wreckage.
Foes Defeated: None
XP: 100 reset to 0 now 1st level

In Which Lothar Sees a Fairy, For Regus' Sake

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

Lothar and Riordan were on watch, having traveled that night from Ashvale, on their way to a remote village in the northern part of Breiland's Wood. On this cold fall night, they were a party of eleven - Lothar & Riordan, Ajanni & Gahiji, the wolf pups, Salem, his donkey, Riordan's ward Emerson, and Rogers Wesley, a guild-appointed guardian accompanying the party to make sure everything went according to plan.

Whose plan it was exactly, that was another matter. Lothar knew Riordan hadn't exactly bargained for Rogers when he took the group to the guild house in Ashvale in search of employment. The world out there was cold and bleak, they were quickly learning, and much of it revolved around earning coin, and aside from a hearty sum brought in by a reverse robbery (the unsuspecting thugs didn't know who they were trying to hold up, and it cost them the contents of their pockets), the opportunity for financial gain had been scant.

Riordan was a leader. Lothar could see that in him. It was his intention to mold the Oakshadow quartet into a formidable band of men, and he meant to do so by leading them to monetary independence as well as by proving their viability. Of the three available guilds in town, the "odd jobs" guild seemed like the best bet. The mercenary guild was too seedy, and the other involved live animal trapping, which didn't sit well with Ajanni (or Lothar himself, for that matter). What's more, the gnomes running things seemed friendly enough, but when Riordan, Lothar, Salem, and Ajanni showed up for work on Monday, they learned quickly that they were going to be subject to more rules and regulations than they had expected. It wasn't unfair, necessarily - it was their guild, so it seemed reasonable that they would be setting the rules - but after the spending the last few weeks untethered, it was an adjustment, to be sure.

Rogers Wesley was the part that took the most adjusting to; a hulk of a guy (comparable to Lothar in size, but he was no green teenager), his purpose may have been boiler plate to the guild, but he made our heroes feel like they were being babysat. Still, he was a nice enough guy, and, as Riordan intimated to Lothar that night over the fire, he had given the impression of a man who was okay with a little spell casting every now and then.

The whole magic thing was still taking Lothar time to get used to, but he was coming around to it. Now that the novelty had worn off, Lothar was simply noticing how all of his friends had ended up with magical abilities, where he had none. Was he envious? A little bit (as the author can attest, magic is awesome), but he was confident he could prove his worth in other ways, and he didn't feel like less of a part of the team because of his lack of spell casting prowess. He looked over at Riordan, who knew the value of a long silence. Sitting quietly, staring into the middle distance - Lothar admired that ability to give oneself to thought, and turn the world off for a moment.

Except when it came to missing something important (and that was the job, they were on watch). Lothar saw the ball of light first - it was so similar to the one they'd seen the last time they were out tracking a beast known for mauling civilians, and here they were again, it almost seemed natural that they would see it again. Lothar cast his eyes over to Riordan, but his friend wasn't seeing it, so our large hero had to point it out to him. After a brief deliberation, the others were awoken, and some of the group - Ajanni, Lothar, Riordan, and Rogers Wesley - went out to investigate.

This time, instead of running away, the light stayed where it was, and the mortals were able to get very close to it. The light, which, upon closer inspection, was humanoid at its core, was guarding over the body of a mauled peasant man. Ajanni set about to inspecting the area, but Lothar was fascinated by the little glowing creature. Riordan spoke the church language to it, but it did not respond. Lothar, however, was more direct, and simple. In his childlike wonder, he simply blurted out, "I love you." This simple act earned the creature's affection for Lothar, and she sat upon his shoulder. Lothar was over the moon. That something so beautiful and small would be his friend and treat him with kindness was more than he could ever imagine.

Ajanni spoke the language of the forest to the creature, and was able to communicate with her, but her voice was so faint and soft, he only heard bits and pieces. Finallly, she parted company with the group, and they returned to their camp fire. Lothar was changed - in a small, but meaningful way. The encounter had re-inforced in him the basic sense of decency that his mother had stressed to him long ago as a child. The night he watched his village burn down, he had decided she was mistaken. This night was the first step in a long road back to trusting in the potential for goodness in the world.

FF

Ashvale

What a beautiful city! Somehow they have found a way to live with and amongst nature. No structure is more evident of this than the cathedral.  The cathedral is a gigantic living tree. Everything inside is fashioned from the tree- including fireplaces! It is truly a remarkable sight to behold. It's growth obviously aided by magic, however none would admit this and I was not about to bring it up. Interestingly enough, it seems that there is some sort of magical effect inside the cathedral that blocked my detect magic spell but did not cancel it.
While Salem was fulfilling his Godday duties, Riorden and I explored Ashvale- including its impressive menagerie. The Ashvale Menagerie is quite an arrangement of animals and beasts.  Although the experience of seeing some of these rare animals close up and for the first time was educational and interesting, I cannot say I agree with keeping them in captivity- especially some of the more intelligent beings. However to simply release them would cause mass chaos in the city and I don't think that is the correct way to handle this as of right now. For the moment I will let it lie in the hopes that with time I will come across a proper way to handle this.
I accompanied Riordan to a local orphanage, where he appears to be in the market for a ward. He claims that he wants a torch bearer for our party, but this young lad might prove more useful than simply providing light. At any rate I sympathize with the young man. Losing ones parents is never easy, no matter what the age, and he has to bear the weight of feeling responsible for his abandonment.

Wherever I may roam

Ever since the beak men took away my family and my home, I have felt lost. Adrift. With no direction pulling me in any discernible direction. There is a hollowness that I cannot seem to fill nor know what it craves. But there is an urge. A deep rooted hunger for justice. I oftentimes feel alone when in groups and feel a pull towards wilderness. I identified closely with the people in the trees and their profound respect for their surroundings. I need to find these beak men and put my family's souls to rest. Maybe in avenging their deaths I will find my own peace? Maybe...

You Have Focus, But You Lack Rage

by Floyd Fiftynames
Licensed Bard


The first town Lothar and his friends arrived in was no bigger than Oakshadow had been, and despite some familiar trappings, nothing felt right. So when the innkeeper found out Lothar was a tanner, and actively tried to recruit him into staying, the young brute found himself re-evaluating, right then and there, what he thought his life was going to be.

He reflected on some of the places he'd been over the last few days - walking the entire length of the scar, and viewing the depths of its black abyss, and the room at the bottom of the ruins, with it's chair of pure silver. Or, for that matter, the ruins themselves, where he encountered more excitement and adventure than he ever thought he'd experience in his entire life.

He'd seen a wizard, for goodness sake. Something the ordinary would tell you doesn't exist.  Not only that, he'd killed the wizard, bringing it down as the goblin mage tried to destroy him and his friends. While fighting the wizard, Lothar, who was taking a beating, found a place deep inside him, a place that allowed him to take his frustrations and channel them into strength. I'd like to call it a focus, but Lothar wouldn't like that. He thought of it as a rage.

While he was in his rage, Lothar felt pure. He did not think, he acted, and his actions were effective. With fury came energy, and an ability to ignore physical pain as he swung his axe to and fro, chopping down his enemies like the tree he used back in Oakshadow to expunge his anger. While he was in this state, Lothar knew he was being his most natural, his most him.

He knew he wanted to find this place again, and soon. And he wouldn't get there by taking up a job as a tanner and becoming his father before he'd lived two full decades. The answer, then, was easy.

FF

Lothar Has a Tendency to Zone Out While He's Bashing Things

by Floyd Fiftynames
Licensed Bard

While fighting some kobolds in and around some ruins, Lothar reflected on his anger, the violence he was engaged in, and the nature of one's ego.

Lothar could surprise you with his depth, sometimes.

When the beak-men killed his family, Lothar's grief took his psyche to a variety of different places. There was the rage place, of course - that was helpful when it came time to kill the kobolds, and even though the scaly little bastards weren't the object of his anger, it felt empowering to crush their skulls as they tried in vain to kill our hero. It probably wasn't going to be very healthy in the long run, though - with every kobold he killed, he just felt emptier, the death of his father, his grandmother, his brother, and his sister haunting him more. All this power, he thought to himself, why couldn't you do anything to stop it?


And that's when the depression started to sink in (fortunately, it was the functional kind). Ultimately, he knew his quest for revenge would be selfish. His family was gone, and there was no way he was going to get them back. What good would it do to repay murder with murder? But a little selfishness is necessary for the survival of the spirit. Lothar's problem was that revenge became the only means he had of validating his self-worth. Everything he truly valued had been taken from him, and for a brief moment, he considered ending his existence himself. The problem was, for this boy whose ego had been wounded, killing himself would forever associate him with that act, and it would be cemented as his legacy. We wouldn't be sitting here today, talking about Lothar, the hero of Oakshadow. We'd be talking about the tanner boy who committed suicide to escape the life that made him so miserable. And then you'd probably want your money back.

I want you to believe this story has a happy ending. I really do. To rise to great heights, you have to start at the bottom, though, and I can't think of anything more depressing than being in a situation where you can't even kill yourself because it would only compound the problem. Yet that's where Lothar was at this point. And that's where I'm going to leave you today. Not because that's where the story ends - but because it can be illuminating to dwell in the hero's darkest hour, and more satisfying to walk with him back into the light.

FF

No One Becomes a Hero Because Their Life is Awesome

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

A time after Lothar's first combat, his uncle Elfred returned to town and invited him along on a trip with him to the Keep, where Sir Bardin, the local lord, lived. Accompanying Lothar would be his friends Riordan, Salem, Ajanni, and Neris, and the group would be keeping watch over the collected tax.

Outside of Lothar's trip to the Stein and Shield, he had been outside of Oakshadow exactly once, to attend the wedding of his father Valdemar to his second wife, Ingrid. Lothar liked traveling, and he enjoyed the trip to the Keep. He was impressed by it's size, and in particular by the scale of the tannery there. While at the Keep, he was introduced to Sir Bardin, and given the opportunity to audition for his military. The head officer of the Keep, a dwarf named Akor, knocked him down a few times, teaching Lothar to channel his frustration into a useful well of strength, and the boy soon put the experienced soldier on the ground.

That evening, at dinner, the party was introduced to a variety of important people from the area, not the least of whom was Bartok, the priest of the Keep. Bartok, unfortunately, shot down Riordan's request to the minstrel providing the entertainment that he play a song about the dark powers, but other than that, nothing else important happened that night.


What's that, you say? You recognized the sarcasm? Okay, well, Sir Bardin gets called away on an overnight ride to one of the neighboring villages on account of a suspicion of a spreading plague (always a good sign), and then the Keep went on high alert (which was very comforting, really) for the night and much of the next day, until Bardin returned to dispel the notion that the person who was sick suffered from the plague, but instead, had some sniffles.

The party then returned to Oakshadow to help prepare for the Becoming, a large, annual fall festival and feast that lasted for three days. Lothar had a very nice, and in hindsight, exceptionally meaningful conversation with his father, who expressed his blessings to his younger son that he strike out on his own very soon.

So, tragedy. It's part of every hero's journey, you know? Lothar's no different. And the Becoming of Lothar's 17th year is where it all happened for him. Sir Bardin, who was set to join the citizens of Oakshadow for their festival, suddenly cancelled as he was feeling under the weather. And even though our heroes collectively failed to say "Uh-oh," the universe heard it anyway, and sent a legion of beak-masked, robed figures to set Oakshadow on fire and kill its citizens on suspicion of carrying... you guessed it... the plague.

Lothar and his friends put up as much of a fight as they possibly could, but they were no match for their skill, and they had no choice but to flee (at Father Fhaerris' urging) from the town as it went up in flames. Despite their best efforts, most, if not all of the other Oakshadow-ians were killed in the fray, including Lothar and Ajanni's families. All that remained of their hometown were our four heroes, Ajanni's dog, Gahiji, and the two dire wolf pups.

Lothar's grief was deep. His family had been his life, and now they were gone, and he blamed himself. He felt so helpless, having to run while his town and practically everyone he knew or loved burned. In the bottom of his soul, a thirst for vengeance began to form. It always starts this way, and there are two endings - hero, or villain. The middle part? Well, that's where I have the potential to surprise you.

FF

In Which Lothar Doesn't Fight, But Then He Totally Does

by Floyd Fiftynames,
Licensed Bard

The hand, as it turned out, belonged to Corwin Janus, an old friend of Lothar's uncle Elfred and a knight protector of the land. It was fortunate for Lothar, because as a warrior, our young hero was greener than my hat band. Though he was anxious to prove his mettle, it would not be this night at the Stein and Shield.

He would, however, show off his legendary iron stomach. Few could eat or drink like Lothar, who often supplemented his meals at home with fresh game. Lothar and his step-mother Ingrid had plenty of reasons not to like each other, and one of Ingrid's reasons for being cool towards Valdemar's second son was due to her inability to feed him. This night at the inn, however, Lothar could eat, drink, and be cautiously merry to the delight of Elena the innkeeper's pocketbook.

This night, Lothar and his friends would learn from Elfred's friend Corwin Janus more about the world and its ways than most of them had ever suspected from their quiet life in Oakshadow. The world is a place of uneasy alliances and simmering tensions, and both came to the fore at the southeastern border of the country, where men like Janus kept watch and tried to prevent goblins from reigniting a war that few alive could remember today. Stories were told of the past with lengthy explanation, but Lothar did not possess the acuity to process it all, other than that it involved the church and a host of heroes buried at the inn itself. Men take on many permutations in their lives - child, provider, husband, warrior, sage - but leader was not in the teenage Lothar's vocabulary at present. He did not yet feel he had the confidence to be a leader, or the knowledge; in his upbringing he had only learned to be respectful and polite, but his true compass for right and wrong, his mother, had died long before she could instill those values in him, and he was far too young to have command of his feelings. For guidance, Lothar often looked to Riordan, his good friend from Oakshadow, the bar and inn keeper. Riordan was a good eight years Lothar's senior, but had always treated Lothar with a respect he did not find from many others in his village. Riordan had the bearing and attitude of a leader, and Lothar looked to him as the type of man he could follow.

The only time Lothar felt he had any notion of what he could teach another person was when it came to Neris, another young person in the search party. Neris was two years younger than Lothar, but those winters felt like an enormous chasm between the two of them. Neris was impetuous, and he lacked discipline and respect. Lothar, for his part, learned from his father how to be a part of a team, and how to accept a lower rank in a group setting. You don't have to like it, Lothar thought, but you do have to accept it.


Oh! - and Lothar met a centaur this night as well. Now, this storyteller has known a few centaurs in his day, and they have ranged from assholes to bastards, and Curu fit that description as well as any of them. And moon-eyed Lothar, he thought it would be amazing to be a half-horse, half-man - it was about the only way someone could run faster than the kid - so he made a comment to the magical beast which came from a place of awe and (near) reverence, but of course it came out sounding like Lothar wanted to ride the pretty pony-person, and that set Curu the Centaur off into a bout of centaur haughtiness (read: butt-hurt). Needless to say, after that little interchange, Lothar learned to be more careful about what he said to people he just met.

The group's night at the Stein and Shield eventually gave way to a discovery that roaming bands of goblins might have something to do with the livestock-eating beast, and they set out the next day in pursuit, moving as fast as they possibly could through the forest. The next night, Lothar would taste his first combat.

It was goblins, my friends. Goblins are nasty motherfuckers, and these were no exception. They came upon Lothar and his friends in the dead of the night, with wolves bred to fight, and gave the group a spirited row. Lothar learned that night that he did not know as much as he thought he did about fighting something that was, well, not just trying to escape becoming food. These goblins and wolves were fighting back, and it took all of Lothar's youth and strength not to fall in his first combat. Fortunately, the efforts of the acolyte Salem kept him afloat, as did the combat prowess of Ajanni and Gahiji, his uncle Elfred, and a mysterious archer who ended the goblins' assault somewhat prematurely. This last combatant was of concern to Lothar, but given that he was weakened by the fight, he found himself unable to pursue or investigate. The event remained present in his mind, however, and as such elements often do in stories like these, the significance of the event would rear its head again later.

After recovering from the fight, the party continued on, and found the goblin village where the raiding party had come from. The women, children, and elders of this village were a wretched lot - Lothar had not yet seen, nor had he dreamed of an existence as miserable as this - and through the village elder, the party learned that the beast was the creation of a goblin breeder who had created a killing machine from the wolves. This beast turned on its creator before escaping on its own, and Lothar felt contempt for the breeder, and he told him so as he lay in agony on his death bed. Afterwards, he contemplated whether his words to the wretch were necessary; as with the rest of this journey, he was learning new things about himself every day, and some of the things he was learning, he didn't quite like. His capacity for frustration, and it's tendency to show itself in anger - even cruelty - was not something Belinda would have encouraged from him.

Lothar and his compatriots learned that the beast was moving back in the direction of Oakshadow, and they returned to their home as quickly as they could to deal with it. Fortunately for them, by the time they arrived, the only casualty was a mule at Ajanni's farm. The group traced the animal back to it's current den, drew it out, and engaged it in combat, and this time, Lothar's blows found their mark. The creature - a wolf of impressive size - was slain, and Lothar took the hide as a prize. The unexpected fallout from this event was that the creature had two newborn pups, which Lothar and Ajanni took an instant liking to. The boy of the pair found an affinity for Lothar, and Lothar learned that fighting can lead to unexpected consequences.

Of course, this is the very beginning of a story about a legendary warrior, so we know there are more fights to come.

FF

Darkowl

Darkowl ducked into the Stein and Shield and paused, waiting for an uproar as Phaedra flapped on his shoulder. When there was none, he cautiously looked around the tap room. There was a good sized crowd of the normal mercenary and adventurer types that gravitated towards this particular Inn. It took him a minute for his searching gaze to find Elena behind the bar. She looked up and met his eyes with the studied indifference of the veteran barkeep, sized him up for a second, and then went back to her work. Darkowl exhaled, letting the tension out of his body along with his breath.  So she had either forgotten him and the brawl he caused a year ago, or had chosen not to hold it against him. That will make thing much easier he mused.

Aramus was not due for another week, and Darkowl hated to be idle. Deciding there was nothing for it, he pulled up a chair at a table along the wall and sat down. Phaedra was restless so he let the hawk perch on the back of another chair. Darkowl decided it was best to keep his cowl up. It had been a while, but he didn’t necessarily want to be recognized in this part of the world. That still didn’t stop the ranger from loosening his trademarked kukris in their sheaths as he reexamined the crowd.

Before he could size up more than a couple patrons, the doors flew open and a group of villagers walked in. They were outfitted in dated leathers and old weapons, and gazed around like… well like yokels. Only one of them looked like he knew what he was doing, carrying himself with the grace of a tested swordsman. His clothing and bearing gave lie to his profession. “Messenger for some lord.” Darkowl whispered to himself. One of the other patrons, a man with a scar across his cheek, heard him. Scar-cheek looked at Darkowl with a faint smile. It was a confident look of icy amusement that suggested a familiarity with Darkowl that he did not share. Still holding his eye, the man slowly pulled back into the crowd.  A mental alarm went off in the ranger’s head. Nobody had a look like that and dressed as plainly as Scar-cheek did.

He began to rise from his chair to follow, but a commotion from the group of villagers drew his attention. The lord’s messenger was being greeted by a big and heavily armored man. Darkowl saw the sign of the Order of the Sword on the large warrior’s shield, and decided it was better to be inconspicuous than investigative all things considered. He sat back down in his chair and tried to blend in with the wall of the inn. The bar returned to normal as the novelty of the villagers wore off. The Knight led them to a nearby table, and Darkowl saw that he had definitely made the right choice for the Knight was none other than Captain Corwin himself.  He took another look at the villagers.

Their obvious inexperience with the world of the Stein and Shield had made them seem smaller, but half of the villagers were huge. Three of them cleared a full six feet and all were thickly muscled. It was a hard thing to see when the stood together as the tall tribesman (for one of them was darkskinned) was almost seven feet, and another was much broader in the chest than his friends. It was only when they moved individually that you saw that any one of them could be the tallest man in his region, and the tribesman was giant like in height. Likewise several of them could shame a blacksmith with their mass; the big one was just built like an ox and skewed the perspective. Darkowl could see why the Order of the Sword would be interested in them; they would be hard pressed to find a better batch of recruits.

After a brief exchange, Sir Corwin led the villagers out the side door that led to the Heroes’ Garden. Darkowl waited a few moments to make sure that they were gone, got up, and headed to the bar. As he did, he side-stepped to avoid stepping on a cloak and accidently ran into a massive chest. Darkowl lifted his gaze up to see the face of a familiar centaur.

“Um, hey there Curu.” Darkowl said, mentally cursing his luck. This was a conversation that was not going to go well.

“Darkowl? I didn’t think you came into this neck of the woods anymore! How are you?” Curu was characteristically jovial, being one of the more friendly specimens of centaur- a race known for being surly and temperamental. “Have you heard any word from my niece? Is she enjoying being a weaver?”

And there it is thought Darkowl. “Curu… I don’t think she enjoyed weaving.”

“Nonsense. I paid a heavy fee to apprentice her to one of the best weavers in the region. Why would you think she didn’t enjoy it?”

“Because she left.”

“She… left?” Curu said with a dangerously quiet tone. Darkowl prayed that the massive centaur would let the conversation end there, but as usual his prayers went unanswered. “Where did she go?”

“She… ah, well… Corelle… um, felt a different calling.” Darkowl paused, steeling himself for what was coming next. “She became an acolyte in the Regian Church.”

For a moment Darkowl refused to look at the big centaur. After a few heartbeats he could no longer resist and looked up. Curu stood there, covered in the trinkets and charms of his pagan faith, a faith that his family and his tribe had faithfully adhered to since time immemorial. His face was so hard that it could have served as an anvil in a dwarven forge, the veins and cords  in his neck straining to burst free of his skin, his eyes like someone had compacted all the rage in the world down into two darkly violent crystals. Darkowl was completely still, not wanting to be the one who triggered what was sure to be a legendary bloodbath. Suddenly Curu inhaled, and Darkowl tensed to dodge whatever was coming. Instead of rearing and lopping off the heads of the nearest customers while screaming pagan obscenities, Curu slowly and with enormous effort moved over to an empty table and sat down. He stared at the table for a moment, and then idly began playing with his animal charms.

Darkowl didn’t waste any time. He spun on his heel when straight to the bar, ordered a meal and a beer, and retreated back to his table, determined to not move for the rest of the night. As he settled in next to where Phaedra perched, he stole a glance at Curu. The centaur had stopped staring off into space and was now having an angry conversation with his little wooden animal carvings. I would hate to be the next person to try to talk to him Darkowl thought. He then dived into his meal, feeding little scraps to his hawk, and taking the occasional swig of beer.

By the time he was finishing eating, the strange group of villagers had returned, without the Knight of the Sword. He watched half fearful and half amused as Lord’s-Messenger led the troop straight over to Curu. They had an expectedly (at least to Darkowl) tense conversation in which the villagers seemed confused about Curu’s hostility and Curu seemed hostile, after which they left the centaur alone and claimed an empty table.

After talking amongst themselves, they began looking around the room. The crowd had thinned a little by this point, with pretty much only the overnight guests still around. One of the villagers, Tall-Tribesman, had spotted Darkowl, and was coming over with Big-Chest. They smiled as they approached and immediately sat down at Darkowl’s table.

“Mind if we join you?” Tall-Tribesman asked after he and Big-Chest had already sat down, much to Darkowl’s bemusement.

“Not at all.” Darkowl replied.

“What’s your name?” Big-Chest asked politely. Up close like this Darkowl realized neither of them could be as old as twenty.

“Darkowl” the ranger replied. Big-Chest look at Phaedra who was obviously not an owl nor darkly covered and then looked back to Darkowl.

“Ok” he said cheerfully. The three of them immediately launched into a pleasant conversation about woods lore and the surrounding area. As they chatted Darkowl glanced over at the rest of the villagers and caught the gaze of a chestnut bearded member of their group. His eyes were calculating and confident with a commanding directness and Darkowl felt that he was being sized up to a degree that he had not experienced yet that night.  Command-Eyes held his look for a moment, and then rising strode over to bar. Tall-Tribesman and Big-Chest wound their conversation down and rejoined their buddies. Darkowl took that as an opportunity to excuse himself and turned in for the night.

Neris 2

Neris’ Epic Adventure Journal of Awesomeness Entry 3

So I caught up with everybody, and they act like they SAVED me.  They treat me like I’m a child when they’re pretty much the same age I am. I mean, sure Riordan is older, and Farkus and Josiah and Elfred, but the others are like 2 years older, 3 tops. I’m a grown man! And I’m smarter and better than they are. I’ll go along with them for now, but I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.

Neris’ Epic Adventure Journal of Awesomeness Entry 4

Dude the Stein and Shield is AWESOME.  And everybody in it was hardcore, with real armor and weapons and things. Our group from Oakshadow looks like stupid farmers in here. It’s pretty obvious to me that I’m of the same type as the guys in here, not the sad little band of villagers I came in with. I bet that’s why they give me such a hard time, because they’re jealous. We met this Corwin guy who was checking me out, probably to try and recruit me into his knight order. He spent most of the time talking to Riordan and the others all the while thinking “that strong quiet guy in the back looks dangerous in a cool superhero sort of way. Why is he hanging out with them? He must feel sorry for them.” Then we went back to the Inn and I totally stared down a centaur. He wouldn’t even look at me. Now I think we’re gonna head up to our rooms and drink. Gonna show these stupid villagers how a hero drinks.

Neris’ Epic Adventure of Awesomeness Entry 5

I got stabbed with a spear. I missed the whole fight. I didn’t even get a chance to show them how awesome I am all because some stupid goblins had their hill giant buddy throw a spear at me when I wasn’t looking. They didn’t shout or nothing. It’s so not fair. When I came to most of our group was banged up pretty bad. It never would have happened if I had gotten a chance. So. Not. Fair.

Riordan 2

Riordan

We all tensed for a moment. Everyone in this bar seemed far more dangerous than any in our small group, and the hand on Elfred's shoulder was attached to one of the biggest and most imposing gentlemen there. I sensed more than saw Lothar's hand tighten on that huge knotty club of his, and Farkus seemed frozen in fearful indecision. For my part, after years of running a bar myself I knew it's not a bar fight until an actual attack has been made. Elfred gave a slight smile and turned to face the armored warrior. Sure enough a quick exchange of friendly insults, the kind of which only men with a comfortable history engage in, dispelled our concerns.

The big man, clad in a worn but magnificent suit of plate mail, was introduced as Sir Corwin Janus, a Captain of the Order of the Sword. He immediately led us to a large table in the back and bought us all a round of drinks. The beer was darker than what Kettlewell brews, with a faint earthy aftertaste that was quite pleasant.  We drew less attention from the other patrons, seated as we were at a removed table instead of standing in the entry way, and our small group relaxed once the eyes of strangers were no longer on us.

Corwin’s joviality dimmed when we explained what our mission was, and he instructed us to stand and come with him. We rose, drinks untouched in our hands, and followed him to the bar. A still beautiful elven woman, the slight weathering of age showing in the sharpness of her features and a few modest lines in her face, greeted Corwin with the casual familiarity reserved for a regular customer. Corwin quickly introduced her as Elena Moondagger and asked her in a hushed tone if we could use “the room”. She lifted a sardonic eyebrow and tossed him a key, pointedly busying herself elsewhere.

Corwin led us through the taproom, through the tables and fire pits with their soot blacked chimney hoods, and then out a door in the back. We stood outside, the inn behind us, and gazed from an elevated vantage point out over a sloping field. A vast section of the area was laid out before us, and unbidden from my lips sprang, “Does this place serve as a watch post?”

Sir Corwin paused and giving me a look replied, “When need be.”

As I locked eyes with the big knight I became aware of a gentle mournful music playing in the background. Investigating we rounded the corner and saw a massive cemetery nestled at the base of the inn. A man stood at the gate of this sprawling graveyard, playing a curious instrument that seemed a cross between a set of bagpipes (or at least as they have been described to me) and a stringed instrument. The melody was high pitched and haunting. Corwin began leading us down to the gate, and through it into graves and memorials. He gave a gentle nod to the musician, identifying him as a warden of the cemetery, and talked to us as he walked.

“The inn is hundreds of years old,” said the knight, “and was built to serve the visitors of this: the Heroes’ Garden. There are at least 700 graves here- heroes, mercenaries, and adventurers all. The Emperor Balerian is buried here. No one has cataloged them all and many of the stones and memorials are no longer legible.”

We were well into the cemetery at this point as Sir Corwin continued, “Here in the center, this worn obelisk. Yehorem wrote a book and claimed it was the oldest marker here. According to him it is the resting place of Marwin the Gold.” As Corwin talked I passed within a few feet of the weathered black pillar, and an un-natural chill swept over me and raised the hairs on my arms over newly risen gooseflesh. Glancing around I seemed to be the only one so afflicted, and the feeling passed as we passed the obelisk.

The knight, oblivious, kept weaving his tale, “The savage wars were around 716 – 730. Leading up to that the church has been going through a period of de-militarization. The various tribes of orcs and goblins took advantage of that and attacked the area kingdoms. They had the whole of the east reeling until the Order of the Sword was re-established and the knights of the Church pushed them back.” At this he gestured to his massive shield where a sword backed by a blazing sun was painted.  We also discovered that he knew Father Faerris, and held him in somewhat of a respectful derision.  When Salem mentioned that he might be interested in joining the Order of the Sword at some point, and that he was currently under the tutelage of Faerris, Corwin smiled and said, “We’ll get all of Faerris’ nonsense out of your head and get you on the right path.”

This was an aspect of the Church I had never been exposed to before. I had read about various knights and orders, but it was never suggested that they were religious in nature. Was the Church a political player? Why did it need a fighting force? Just how large was this force? Could the church overthrow a kingdom? This new revelation would need some thought.

We had come almost completely through the Heroes’ Garden, and Corwin stopped at what appeared to be a pair of cellar doors set in the ground. Using the key he obtained from Elena, he opened the doors revealing a flight of steps and a torch lit tunnel. With barely a pause he headed down. Having come this far, we followed him through the tunnel, torches flickering in the light breeze from the open door, and into an underground chamber dominated by a massive table;  a table so large it could easily seat sixty.

Corwin gruffly said, “This is a safer place to talk,” tossed his shield onto the table, and sat down. As I took my seat with the others I was hit with the certainty that this room was old, ancient even.  I couldn’t explore the though further though as my attention was pulled to the matter at hand.

“I don’t think it is a wild beast you are looking for,” Corwin started. “I need you to keep this information to yourselves – we don’t want to create a panic – but we have had reports of goblin war bands in the area, traveling with attack animals. I think it is likely that this is what you are looking for.” Further conversation revealed however that Sir Corwin adamantly refused to believe that there were other possibilities, and had an almost zealous suspicion of all goblinoids. When he learned that we had a converted goblin in our village he darkly hinted that our fellow villager was most likely a spy and waiting for the opportune time to slit our throats in our sleep. In spite of his obvious prejudice, we could not overlook the goblin war band theory and promised to investigate. Corwin cautioned us against engaging any goblins we were to find, “A goblin war party will rip farmer conscripts like you apart. Better to let me know where they are and let the Order deal with them.”

After our council with Sir Corwin, we headed back to the inn. Elfred seemed uncomfortable with the goblin information supplied by Corwin. He reluctantly agreed that it was our best lead, and mentioned that there was someone in the inn who could help. Re-entering the taproom Elfred led us over to a table occupied by what could only be a centaur.

Elfred named him as Curu. I have heard tales and read stories where centaurs are present, but my imagination failed to prepare me for the actual thing. He was seated on the floor, a table in front of him and his back to the wall, and managed to dominate the table’s area completely. From the waist down he was equine, but it was the thick solidness of a plow horse instead of the lithe riding horse I had pictured. From the waist up he was a man, but more so. Impossibly muscled it seemed his skin could barely contain the wild savage power of his massiveness. His clothing and gear was constructed out of skins and hide, and little wooden charms dangled from the straps and tassels.  Around his neck was a carefully carved necklace of wooden pendants representing animals. His weapons were worn like a farmer’s tool that had been passed down, fixed when needed, and used often.

Immediately our friendly greetings were rebuffed. Curu seemed to be very surly by nature, and we obviously were making social faux pas in our conversation as he took offense at our breaking of cultural rules that we were not aware of. Finally Elfred, who clearly had dealings with him before, was able to coax a location out of Curu as he indicated a clearing on Ajani’s map.

“What’s there?” asked Salem. Curu’s only answer was a fierce stare and flared nostrils. Elfred quickly interjected, “I think we’ve gotten enough out of our friend. Thank you Curu.” The party left the prickly centaur and found a different table.

The decision was made to stay the night in the inn, and then head out to investigate Curu’s lead in the morning. Elfred, Ajani, and Salem had a conversation about religion, talking about the differences in Faerris’ beliefs and Corwin’s, and Curu’s pagan religion. I didn’t pay attention, as I found the topic uninteresting, and instead examined my party members.

The chances of us being in a fight were high. I had enough experience with Ajani, Gahiji, and Lothar to know that I could depend on them, and Elfred was obviously the most experienced and best equipped member of our little group. Josiah had a steady determination about him. I didn’t think he would break and flee although he would probably be reluctant to engage. Salem’s personality was solid, along with a belief in the divine that bordered on crazy, but physically I didn’t know how well he could handle things. Best to keep him in the back I thought, and away from melee if possible. Farkus and Neris were the problem.

Farkus flat out didn’t want to be there. He was scared and felt wildly out of his element. Thus far he had frequently bemoaned his choice to come along, and was the first – and only – one to suggest we give up at every opportunity. He’s a good guy and was still with us, but clearly wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. Given a chance, I think the best thing would be to keep him in between some combination of me, Lothar, Elfred, or Ajani. It would make it harder for him to break and run and might give him a morale boost as well.

If Farkus’ problem was he didn’t want to be there, Neris’ problem was he wanted to be there too badly. He’s desperate to prove himself as some sort of hero from a story, wildly over estimates his own abilities, and believes that he can treat with the rest of us as equals. In short he’s a royal pain and a clear liability. The problem is, I don’t want his death on my hands if I can avoid it and he has already shown us that if dismissed he will clumsily follow behind.

Unable to come to a conclusion about how to handle Neris, I pulled my attention back to the group. The religion conversation was still going on, but some of the group had wandered off and were now sitting with a woodsman at another table. Speaking of tables, ours was covered with empty mugs – only one of which was mine. Even Elfred was slurring slightly, although Salem still seemed to have his wits about him. Sighing I stood and wandered over to the bar.

Elena Moondagger was cleaning a section of the stout oak bar top. She looked up with a guarded but friendly expression. “Can I help you with something?” She asked politely.

“Actually, I was hoping I could help you. Toss me another rag.” I replied. Startled, she reached under the bar and did what I asked. I helped her wipe down the bar, wash the mugs, and do the general work that keeps a bar tidy and efficient. As we cleaned I told her that I owned an inn myself, and we chatted about work. We kept the conversation superficial, but by the time I headed upstairs to the room I shared with my travel mates her guarded nature had fallen away as we came to an understanding and became acquainted.

As expected most of the group came up drunk, and continued drinking in the rooms until the small hours of the morning. Elfred was one of the worst off, so I was surprised when he knocked on our door at dawn, all bright-eyed, bushy tailed, and ready to start the day. Elfred tried to innocently play it off as if he was a champion drinker, but I wasn’t born yesterday. “You got any more of that special wine from the other night Elfred? You know, the stuff that made us feel healthier?” I asked pointedly. He had the grace to look sheepish as he passed around his wineskin. As before the liquid went down with a warm tingling. I looked around the room at my compatriots. There wasn’t a hangover to be seen; everyone looked like they had a good night’s rest. “Thanks” I said, handing him back the skin. He chose not to comment, and instead quickly suggested we pack up and get a move on.

That is how, after a long night of heavy drinking, our group found themselves alert and rested as we walked through the early morning dew of the Stein & Shield’s lawn and into the forest.  The forest grew wilder and thicker as we traveled, and by evening we had some difficulty finding a clearing to camp in. Before we could go about the process of setting up camp, one of my companions called for quiet. I turned and found everyone peering into the dark shadows of the tree canopy. Twilight had given way to dusk, and the last fading greyness made the blackness seem impossibly deep. Salem lit a torch and Neris strode forward a bit, gazing into the stillness of the woods.

The spear that flew out of the dark was graceful and silent, embedding itself deep into Neris’ torso with only the faintest thunk. Neris didn’t even get to cry out. He just fell backward onto the mossy floor of the forest, limp and lifeless. I immediate began shouting orders. To my relief the whole group, including Elfred, responded to my commands and I was able to pull us into a defensive formation. We held there, shields and weapons at the ready, nervously waiting. Two more spears flew at us and then, with a snarl, 4 wolves stalked into the clearing – hackles raised and teeth bared. Behind them came 6 beings wielding clubs and spears.

They were short, of a size with Kettlewell back home, and had a pale colored skin that was ridged and warty in odd places. Their eyes were deep sunk and yellow, two pits over a bulbous nose. Their teeth were jagged and broken and their smiles mimicked the predatorial grins of their pets. These could only be goblins, but much like the centaur in the Stein and Shield, no tale or story could prepare me for this deadly arboreal meeting.

They rushed us with the wolves, and in the blink of an eye I found myself engaged in a life or death struggle. I tried to maintain some semblance of control but all was confusion – shouts, screams, a flash of teeth, the sudden impact shooting up my arm as my spear struck home.  Clarity came instantly as a goblin spear pierced my side with an intense flash of pain.

Kicking the goblin off me I realized at some point a wolf had torn my arm open and I was bleeding profusely. Looking around I saw that many of my comrades were grievously injured. I locked eyes with Lothar who was obviously on his last legs, streaming blood from numerous wounds. I saw him look around as well, counting our enemies. One wolf and two goblins still stood. The rest lay about the clearing like discarded toys, dolls decorating the floor of a child’s room. How long had we been fighting? It seemed an eternity, a heartbeat, a blink in the eye of god. His gaze returned to mine, and we both mustered our strength, rallying for one last push. Salem had managed to escape injury, and was doing his best to tend to the wounds of our fallen. Ajani and Gahiji were also still on their feet, menacing the remaining wolf. Perhaps our friends might survive, even if Lothar and I did not. As we each advanced on our respective foes, death, like night, descended on the remaining goblins as a black arrow for each flew out of the tree canopy above us, neatly planting in their foreheads.

The goblin attack defeated, we collapsed to the earth in exhaustion.

Session 4

Session 4
Date: 6/17/12
Attending: Chris, Jake, Dave, Joey, Ben
Summary: Had an incident where Riordan caused a magic light to shoot out of a traveler's weapon. Party + Neris & Elfred escorted taxes to the Keep where we were introduced to Sir Bardin and his men/guests, notably: Harion the Master of Arms from Axewich, Akor Sir Bardin's Master of Arms, Gallderond Sir Bardin's Scoutmaster, and Father Bardock Sir Bardin's spiritual advisor. The PCs and Neris were each tested in mock combat. A bard played for the group but kept to propaganda songs, refusing to sign about the Dark Riders.
Foes Defeated: None.
XP: 150

Session 3

Session 3
Date: 6/10/12
Attending: Chris, Jake, Dave, Joey, Ben
Summary: Investigated goblin camp and discovered that a rogue dire wolf was behind the attacks. Bought food for goblins and headed back to Oakshadow. Tracked and slew the dire wolf; Ajani adopts the puppies found in the den. Found mysterious wooden "coin" for each member of party attached to an arrow.  Elfred reports back to keep, returns to deliver invitation to meet Sir Bardin.
Foes Defeated: 1 Lesser Dire Wolf
XP: 200

And we begin...

This Godsday  began like any other Godsday that I can remember. My family and I got up and went to morning services as is our custom. Upon arriving at the square I saw Fr. Fharris accompanied by his server Salem in preparation for the morning's events. The whole town was there and we all gathered to hear Fr. Fharris' sermon, when something quite unusual happened: the sky began to turn black. Fr. Fharris reassured his congregation by saying Regius has graced us with his presence. But the break in his voice and his hasty conclusion to the services belied something more than coincidence or heavenly manifestations.  Many townsfolk rest at Riordan's inn after services and today was no different. The common room was a buzz with conversation- mostly about the darkening of the sky just a few moments earlier. Gahiji and I found a table on the porch and sat down with Lothar and Salem. Riordan joined us shortly and we too could not resist indulging in the topic of the moment. Elfred, Lothar's uncle came in with some most disturbing news. There have been reports of wild animal attacks south of Oakshadow, and it was his charge to rally an exploratory party to find any truth to these reports. He asked if I would help serve as the party's guide as where he intends to take them can be dangerous to inexperienced adventurers. I naturally accepted. Whatever is going on out there must be more exciting that harvesting another yam.  We agreed to set out the following morning.  Salem, Riordan and Lothar all volunteered as well as the Farmer Farkus and the carpenter Josiah.  After a quick breakfast Riordan was generous enough to provide we set out to gear up on the few weapons and armor the watchtower could provide, then off to Fharris' for a quick prayer.   The road to the river was easy enough to travel.  We soon crossed the river and continued our way south.  Shortly after Gahiji grew restless and began to growl. He sensed something.  Neris. Foolhardy kid followed us. After a short scolding from Salem we turned him around and back on his way to Oakshadow. We continued are trek and before settling in for the evening, I thought I'd double back and check in on an abandoned farm we passed. Lothar, Salem and Riordan joined me.  I am now very grateful they did.  In that farmhouse I saw a most disturbing sight. A thick sticky pool of dried blood.  It could only be done by a large canine animal.  Probably rabid and extremely large in size. What was left of the body we found about 100yrds away. Poor man probably never heard it coming. That night Gahiji became restless and ran out into the night. Completely out of the ordinary for him.  Upon entering a clearing we saw a mysterious glowing sphere of light. Is this the forrest light?  We followed it as long as we could but it vanished before we could catch it. What we did catch was Neris. Damn kid almost got himself killed this time.  I fear his carelessness could bring harm to those around him. He's headstrong and mistakes stupidity for bravery. Couple that with his complete disregard for authority and the mixture is potentially very dangerous. I'll have to keep an eye on him. The next day we make it to the Shield and Stein inn.  This monstrous building was once used as a lookout point during the Savage Wars and is a sight to behold. Inside we see a unique cadre of individuals. Then again looking at our motley crew I guess we blended in just fine. Not long after our arrival a very large man walks behind Elfred and clasps a meaty hand on his shoulder and says: "I've been looking for you.". Let's hope this doesn't end bad.

Of Lothar, and His Origins

A Hero is not born,

a hero is made -

he is tested and tried

in his early crusade.

And from one, such as Lothar,

the mightiest man,

we can learn a great deal

from knowing how he began.

The Tale of Lothar

by Floyd Fiftynames, Lisenced Bard

You cannot call Oakshadow a town. You can hardly call it a village, but it is more than a hamlet; an entire community is built up around it, with farmers from the outskirts coming to depend on it, and those in the other villages seeking out its tradesmen. One such tradesman was Valdemar, son of Manfred the Trapper, a leathersmith of some repute. Valdemar was one of the pillars of Oakshadow, and with three sons, two of whom were burgeoning men in their own right, and skilled tanners as well - his name was known from here to the Keep as a man who could make you a second skin.

Of the two grown boys, Lothar was the younger. Lucien, three years his senior, was moving into position take over the family business from his father. This left Lothar, all of seventeen years, in a position he had not truly planned for - to honestly begin his adult life, he would need to leave the family that had nutured him, and set out on his own. At this green age, Lothar was already independent to a point. He enjoyed sleeping outdoors in a tent he made for himself, and he would frequently obtain and prepare his own food to supplement the family meals (Lothar was large, and the combined efforts of his stepmother and grandmother could not fulfill the needs of his appetite). But he had always known the comfort of having a home and family to turn to, and to working for his father.

So when the opportunity to branch out presented itself, Lothar was quick to take advantage of it, and in so doing discover his abilities to compete in the wide world. Still, it took an act of family - in this case, Lothar's uncle, Elfred (a royal messenger and emissary who occasionaly visited, and who took Lothar on camping trips where he learned survival skills) - to break him out of the boundaries of sleepy Oakshadow. Elfred came calling to the young and unencumbered men of the village, putting together a task force to address a growing threat of wild animal attacks in the forest to the south of the village. Joining Lothar in this quest were Ajanni, a dark one whose family had migrated to the area to be farmers (Ajanni's canine companion, Githijji, was favored by Lothar as well), the innkeeper Riordan, the orphaned church ward Salem, the carpenter Josiah, and a farmer named Farkus. A local lad, Neris, also joined them when the group discovered he had been trailing them clandestinely.

After supplying from a local watchtower, the group set out in search of evidence of the animals' presence. They found it some ways south, when they happened upon a recently abandoned farmhouse - abandoned because the residents had been eaten by something. With this evidence in hand, Elfred and his party visited a local inn - the Stein-Shield - for a warm bed, a drink, and to learn more. While the discovery of the mauled farmer had been bracing to Lothar, he had seen death before. He had never seen a building quite the size of the Stein-Shield, however, and the awe he felt standing in the large common room caused him anxiety, so perhaps his discomfort could explain his reaction to seeing Elfred accosted by a large man in metal armor - with an insignia of the church, no less!* As the large man placed his hand upon Elfred's shoulder, Lothar's hand immediately found his club.

His club. You know, for a boy who had never really handled a weapon in combat against another man, it was quite impressive. He had crafted it himself, from a large, gnarled oak tree branch. The tree itself was a source of vegetable tannin for the family. Lest I bore you with the minutaie of a tradesman's life, allow me to tell you that tannin is quite important if you want to turn an animal hide into something useful or stylish. At any rate, the branch had fallen from the tree, and as Lothar pulled it from the rot, he found himself with the makings of a club whose head contained a considerable knot of wood on the end. He carved down the handle until it was about as big as the jawbone of a horse, and wrapped it in leftover leather from the shop. While no one would mistake it for a professional soldier's weapon, it was a devestatingly effective tool of bludgeoning. Would Lothar's first opportunity to use it be now? I'm afraid that, for the answer, we'll have to wait until next time.

FF

*More on the church another time.

Session 2

Session 2
Date: 5/28/12
Attending: Chris, Jake, Dave, Joey, Ben
Summary: Met Sir Corwin, learned about Hero's Garden, goblin incursions, Order of the Sword. Met Curu, got location of target area. Left Stein-Shield, attacked in woods by goblins and wolves.
Foes Defeated: 6 Goblins, 4 Wolves
XP: 300

Neris 1

Neris

Neris' Epic Adventure Journal of Awesomeness Entry 1

The eclipse was a sign. It's time for my story to begin. Everyone's going to write the most badass songs and stories about me! Riordan and Salem and the others just haven't seen it yet. That's why they sent me back to Oakshadow instead of letting me go with them. But I think they know. They know for real. Why else would they give me this totally sweet dagger? (Note to self -be more careful with dagger) Which is why I'm going after them. They said to go back to Oakshadow (which technically I did) to protect the village. But Father Faerris says that what makes a village is not land and buildings but people. And Lothar and Riordan and the others are people of the village, so really they were telling me to protect them right? man it's going to be so sweet when I find them. Maybe they'll be attacked by a bear or dragon or something and I'll come out of the woods with my bitchin' dagger and totally like kill it and they'll be all like thank you and thank Regius you were here. And I'll just be like, "I know." all cool and badass. This is gonna be awesome.

Neris' Epic Adventure Journal of Awesomeness Entry 2

The woods are scary as fuck at night and everything makes a sound and you can't tell the difference between a creaky tree or some friggin' monster gonna grab you when you're not looking. My stomach hurts and I think those berries I ate are poisonous or something because my stomach hurts and I'm really scared that there is something big in the bushes that's just waiting for me to turn around. Why hasn't anyone found me yet I'm just a kid for Regius' sake. And I'm really freaked out because this ball of light chased me through the woods tonight and I thought it was gonna catch me and suck out my soul or something and it chased me for a really long time. I think it's been about 18 hours since the sun went down and the night isn't supposed to last this long and if a monster is going to get me I hope I find something to eat first. If I'm dead and anybody finds this it's all Salem's fault for not letting me go with the group and making me lost in the woods and being eaten by bears.