Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

[Phoenixguard09]

Both combatants having been touched up, Harold and Barnan leap back into the fray, Harold with his two newly acquired shortswords and Barnan with his sword and targe. They circle each other once more before Barnan tries to ram the Invarrian with his shield once more, the dog-man once again side-stepping easily. Harold’s return attack clips the man’s arm, drawing blood but not causing any lasting damage. In return the Northman’s sword cleaves through bandages, chain hauberk and flesh, gashing Harold from shoulder to hip, driving him to his knees. With a roar of pain, the Invarrian drives one of his blades through the Northman’s torso, bearing him to the ground before falling on his side beside him, bleeding profusely. Harold, with the last of his strength crawls over to the fallen Barnan.

“You played a great game my friend. Rest in peace.” – Harold, before closing the dead man’s eyes.

Jokes about how a dying man would be pretty pissed off about having his eyes closed before he dies. “I’m feeling much better!” “It’s just a flesh wound.”
We’re all Monty Python fanatics.


Harold collapses as Barnan breaths his last.

Kel’Serrar prepares to bandage him by dragging the Invarrian off the dead Northman. The other group work towards closing the door up again.

Two groups of murder-hobos locked in a small underground room. This should end well....

The first man they notice is taciturn, tall and seems to be quite strong. He has short black hair of a ragged cut, a short trimmed beard and dark green eyes. He also has a scar which runs from the corner of his left eye to the edge of his jaw and his nose seems badly broken. Bound around his upper right arm is a bloodstained bandage. At his belt hangs a longsword and a bow is slung over his shoulder.

The next is a clean-shaven Midlander, and the leader of the party. His accent betrays a southern heritage, as does his tanned skin. Of middling height, he has long brown hair which is tied back and piercing blue eyes. His nose is prominent, but he seems to be a cheerful and friendly sort of fellow. Clad in grey, he bears a sword and dagger, and despite some rips and tears in his clothing, seems to be unharmed.

They next notice a heavy-set Roanfaille, easily picked as such by his dark skin and prominent red-ink tattoos. Tall, he has long brown hair which is thickly braided and dark eyes. His demeanour screams mercenary, as does his equipment, which is baroque and extravagant. His cheek bears the sigil of a red stallion rampant, which is the mark of one of the clans of the Norbayne Roanfaille. His plate harness is bloodstained, as is the bandage wrapped around his forehead, but he seems to be in little pain.

Lastly, they focus on the massively built Feartarbh. By his shaggy brown coat, it is likely he is from the northern Midlands, so it is possible he comes from around Summer Hill. Built with slabs of muscle on an exceptionally sturdy frame, he bears two massive horns upon his head. These horns coupled with his height necessitate him stooping when inside the ruins to avoid getting entangled or at the very least, making rasping noises as the horns scrape along the bare rock. Despite his size, he seems to be quite gentle, likely at least until his friends are threatened, in which case he would likely put both his horns and his maul to good use.

The other group, who are far more physically impressive. And they seem to be far less stingy with their employer's money.

After some time, Harold manages to fight his way through the haze of pain and finds himself leaning up against a smooth stone wall.
“Who leads you?” – Harold, gasping in pain.
The man in grey steps forward and gives the dog-man and his companions a beaming smile.
“I am Mordra Goldshine, leader of this group. That was brilliantly fought sir.” – Mordra, winking at the grizzled Invarrian.
“Oh, it’s one of those.” – Maebh, in a far too conspicuous whisper.
“Thank you. Now tell me, what’s happening here?” – Harold, wincing in pain.

Mordra informs them that they were sent out to look for a special stone, as Summer Hill is in danger of being taken over by the neighbouring kingdom of Elspeth. So, Petyr Rangard sent them out to look for it. Since then, Corpsewalkers have just spontaneously appeared in the area, flooding the countryside, so the group shut themselves in the room, unable to escape.

“But enough of such matters, what of your own story?” – Mordra.

“We set out from Summer Hill in the morning and came across a ruined carriage on the road which had been set upon by at least one marcwolf. We tracked the beast back to its cave, and killed both of the adults, leaving us with the two pups. During the night we were attacked by bandits, but we fought them off. We found this note on one of their bodies.” – Harold, passing the man the note given to Maebh by the bandit leader.
“I do not recognise the hand, nor the name, but it would probably be to the good to follow it up.” – Mordra, handing the note back.
“The next morning we woke up to the realisation that we didn’t have enough supplies-” – Harold, continuing.

“Shouldn’t that be any supplies?”
“I’m trying to word this positively!” – Dev
“That was the optimistic version of events?”


Harold proceeds to inform the Midlander of the ensuing events. When informed of Maebh’s discovery in the living quarters, Harold’s keen eyes notice that Mordra’s fists slightly clench, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, almost imperceptibly.
An impeccable pass of a Perception check on Harold’s part there.
“And then of course, we couldn’t get through a door and we had to blast our way through.” – Harold.
The two share a laugh, if somewhat pained on Harold’s part.

“Kel’Serrar, I want you to keep an eye on him. But don’t shoot him, not yet anyway.” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar on the side after both leaders have gone to their respective parties.

At this point we get helplessly sidetracked for at least five minutes as a long-standing point of contention is brought up yet again. Lady Darkmoon and I have quite strong South Australian accents, which in my own voice sounds quite whiny and annoying, or sexy, deep and masculine, depending upon whom you bring it up with. This is in stark contrast to the others, who are all Queenslanders.

As such, LD and I both say the word, ‘chance,’ like ‘charnce,’ while the others use what I have termed the American pronunciation. It’s mainly Ladyhawk and I who end up discussing how strange we find each other’s accent, but this time we dragged the others into it, Dev in particular who is a master at the art of the cop-out.

They say ‘mandareen,’ we say ‘mandarin.’ Sins informed us that was a language. Dev said something which sounded like mandrill. I informed him that was a baboon. We have fun. But we all secretly despise each other.
We did attempt to get back to it, mainly through Dev’s efforts, but this was in vain as he mispronounced Ladyhawk’s character’s name (Ray-ve instead of May-ve) and then tried to claim that pronunciation was not important anyway. Yes, Gyeorg. (Bonus points if you can actually guess what his real name is from that phonetic iteration of my mangled pronunciation.)

Back to the action.


“Oh and Maebh, you might want to hide that necklace. Oh and don’t stab them yet either Breanna, we might need them.” – Harold, whispering to Maebh and Breanna.
“Don’t worry, I’ll probably miss anyway.” – Breanna, muttering to herself.

Harold also gives Mordra the letter Rangard gave him. Mordra breaks the seal and reads the letter in a small shard of mirror he fishes out of his backpack. Whatever he reads, he musn’t like it as he crumples it up and turns back to his own group.
“My thanks.” – Mordra, walking back to his own people on the other side of the room.
There is furious whispering and many furtive glances being thrown back at Harold and his companions.

After some conversation, Harold decides to catch some sleep, thinking that the more rest he gets, the quicker he will heal. The rest just lounge around, using the time to recover from an eventful past few days.

While Kel’Serrar sits against one of the walls, the other party’s ranger takes him aside.

"I have somewhat of importance to tell you." – Eradan Blackstar, furtively to Kel’Serrar.

"Just a few days ago, as you know, we were almost overrun by Corpsewalkers. They just came out of nowhere. One day the land was quiet, peaceful. The next we were surrounded by scores of them. We cut down a fair number, but eventually we were forced back and barricaded ourselves in here, slowly running out of supplies as they hammered at our door."
He gives a racking sob which quickly turns into a harsh, thick cough.
"I confess to you that I went down amongst them in the final moments of that battle. I've been bitten. I can feel it welling up within me. I have not long left to live as myself. I would end it myself, but there is something worrying I must share with you. The Southron over there, he was also bitten. I saw it with my own eyes, yet somehow I doubt he has the conviction to end himself." - Eradan Blackstar with a grim smile

"It is far too great a risk to allow us all to live, for you will not know until it is too late that one of them has deceived you. I will help you put them all to the sword. And then you must kill me. It is the only way." - Eradan, deadly serious

“This is too important for me to make the decision right now. Let me inform the others.” – Kel’Serrar.

The others discuss the situation, trying to discern whether or not Eradan is telling the truth. While discussing it, they decide to observe their erstwhile companions and see what sort of armaments they're packing. The Feartarbh is carrying a big two handed maul and wearing rough leathers. Judging by the feathers and charms hanging off him, he's probably a shaman. The Roanfaille bears a scimitar and a tall, unadorned tower shield. He is clad in a chain hauberk and bloodstained plate. In his turn, Goldshine carries a sword and dagger and wears a chain hauberk.

They discuss their chances taking on the other party head on.
"We can't win, can we?" - Maebh, shaking her head.
"I agree with your assessment regarding our chances of success." - Harold, blinking sleep out of his eyes.
"They're too well armed." - Maebh.
"Yes." - Harold, nodding. "We need more information. Kel'Serrar, you are skilled at healing. They are injured. I think you should offer your services. And then you get to see their wounds."

There's a reason he was elected as leader.

They decide that as a contingency they should run outside. They consider Kel'Serrar conducting his 'check-ups' out in the corridor where its more easily defended, or perhaps outside on the horse-drawn wagon so they can outrun them if there's any hostility. Not that the poor horse could outrun anything in a serious chase while loaded down with four people and their supplies.

They discuss how long they should stay in the ruins as their supplies are running low. They then discuss how long they have before they will need to kill the others. They find out from Blackstar, who might not be a completely reliable source of information on this matter, that they have maybe two days more before the other party starts succumbing to the virus.

Breanna suggests having one of the players offer to take sentry duty for the night and then go kill all of the other group while they sleep, something which makes perfect sense for the assassin, however the others are a bit hesitant, not wanting to kill any innocents.

Maebh then suggests to Kel'Serrar that he should check out Blackstar's wound so the ranger has a good idea what to look for when he checks over the other party.

After a bit more discussion, Kel'Serrar heads over to the other party who are keeping to themselves over in a corner.
"I see some of you bear injuries. I have some skill at healing. Perhaps I may be of assistance?" - Kel'Serrar, guileless as possible.
The other party looks at him warily, but they can't refuse free treatment. Mordra Goldshine eventually nods.
"Our thanks I guess. Where do you want to do this, friend?" - Goldshine.
"Well, we've set up camp here and leaving might be dangerous. Might as well do it here." - Kel'Serrar.

He gets to work. The Roanfaille refuses to let Kel'Serrar take off his hauberk, so the ranger is unable to inspect his torso and upper arms, however there are plenty of exposed scratches, including a cut on the man's head which looks to be becoming infected, which Kel'Serrar cleans and bandages.

The massive Feartarbh on the other hand is happy to let the Danann at his wounds, and has at least three bites on his body. In addition to this he is covered in scratches and other injuries.

Mordra comes over and seems fine at first, but his bravado dies down once he gets close to the ranger and is forced to remove his armour, revealing a massive bite mark on his shoulder.

While this is happening Harold tries to find a staff to lean on, eventually deciding on Maebh's spear, which she grudgingly hands over.

After the check-ups, Harold then takes Mordra outside the room to the massive stone doorway at the end of the main hall, hoping to have a private word.
"Do you have any idea how to open this? - Harold, leaning heavily on Maebh's spear. His exertions from the duel earlier have taken a lot out of him.

The rest he managed to gather and Kel'Serrar's ministrations have helped considerably, but he's still getting around on very little health. Breanna's has improved somewhat over time, as has Kel'Serrar's, but that being said, neither of them had that much to begin with. Maebh on the other hand, is still running around with minimal burns from her two magical backlashes.

"Actually, I have the key." - Mordra, pulling said key out a pocket.
The key is a small, shield shaped block of stone with an unidentified gem set into it.
"Sparkly?" - Lady Darkmoon
"Pretty?" - Ladyhawk, practically simultaneously.
"Can you open it then?" - Harold.
"No, I don't know what's in there. We've heard some unnatural noises." - Mordra, shaking his head and putting the key back in his pocket.
"Well then, I think I'll go back to Summer Hill with my companions and come back with more men so we can take on whatever is in there. In the meantime, I think you should barricade yourselves again in the room we're staying in at the moment." - Harold.
"Well now you're with us, we should go back with you! We were only in there because we couldn't risk trying to break through the horde. But they've all disappeared, and now you're all here. We might as well all get out together." - Mordra.
"Uh-oh." - Lady Darkmoon.
Harold thinks for a bit, furiously trying to come up with a way to stall for time.

I can barely hear what Dev says here because he mumbles something awful, but it sounded like, "Before we leave, we need more information.""Before we leave, we need more information. My compatriots will take this corridor, and you can take the room. We'll barricade ourselves in and you do the same." - Harold, indicating the abandoned living quarters for his own group.
Mordra agrees to this plan, nodding, and then strides back into the room, leaving Harold to hobble as best he can.

Upon making it back to the room, Harold discusses the plan with his companions, having them relocate to the living quarters. They decide quickly that there is no one in Summer Hill which would be able to help them. They then consider using the levers at the doorway at the beginning to lay a trap, however they soon realise that this is just not possible.
Lady Darkmoon suggests using poison sumac to kill them, slowly choking them to death with their own bandages. The idea is quickly shot down as poison sumac is not available.
"So why not use normal sumac?" - Ladyhawk, with a laugh.


They eventually decide that procrastinating is not getting them anywhere. It is mid-afternoon, when Harold hobbles back to the doorway of the room and asks Mordra to come out, who refuses. Harold demands the key, but the Midlander lays his hand on his sword and tells the Invarrian to take it from him.

Harold walks outside, requesting his group comes outside to the wagon with him. All of them are now outside. Breanna and Harold deposit their marcwolf pups in the wagon, giving them a quick pat on the head and a small piece of dried meat to keep them satisfied.

Maebh considers blasting apart the doorway with her magic in order to cause the whole thing to come crashing down.

"There are footsteps coming from the tunnel behind us." - Maebh, hearing footsteps.

Harold immediately directs everyone into positions. Kel'Serrar stands above the doorway with an arrow nocked to his bow and Breanna and Maebh stand on either side of the door. Harold himself stands, leaning on Maebh's spear, in front of the wagon, the only person in view of whoever comes out of the tunnel.

A running Eradan Blackstar comes racing out of the tunnel, a slight limp barely noticeable in his gait.
"You aren't leaving are you?" - Eradan, gasping with pain.
"No." - Harold.
"Ah good. I was worried. I can't kill them all by myself." - Eradan.
"Could you possibly tell me the story again please, for my benefit?" - Harold.

So the ranger, bewildered, relates the story once more, detailing his own injuries and the Roanfaille's wound too. He explains that he hasn't killed himself yet, because he can't countenance leaving these lands in such danger, knowing that the others would not have the dignity to kill themselves.

To Harold's eyes, the man is severely stressed, which could be because he is lying, however the story does match up with what Kel'Serrar told him earlier.

"Alright then, Eradan, new plan. Run back in there and tell them I have changed my mind and we are leaving. And then get back out here." - Harold.
"Ok then, I'll be the first one out. I'll make sure." - Eradan, nervous.
He heads back inside.

Maebh readies two Flares, one in either hand. Breanna stands ready with her dagger and Kel'Serrar sets fire to his arrow, holding it ready. Harold meanwhile simply braces his borrowed spear.
They hear running footsteps from the tunnel and Harold can see Eradan running out, looking rather terrified. From inside comes a wild roar and out rushes...
The Roanfaille. Chasing the Midlander ranger with his sword and shield in hand.

Some discussion about whether or not it is acceptable to call him black. This is the man they are considering blowing apart with fireballs. I personally don't think the fictional character cares whether or not they insult him.

Maebh lets loose with both Flares, one singeing him and the other blasting into his abdomen, putting a great dent into his armour and leaving him smoking and writhing in pain on the ground.

Breanna finally gets to put her backstabbing skills to good use, almost sawing off his head while trying to slit his throat.
"Yay, I'm so happy!" - Lady Darkmoon.

Then out comes the Feartarbh....
"****...." - Practically everyone, more or less simultaneously.

Manius Longhorn comes out of the tunnel and sees the partially decapitated corpse of his friend lying on the ground, with the dagger-wielding Leathe assassin next to him. He hefts his maul, but not before Kel'Serrar looses his arrow.
He misses something awful.
"Can I throw her spear?" - Harold.
"If you break my spear, I'll kill you!" - Maebh, furious.
Harold hurls Maebh's spear at the Feartarbh, sending the heavy blade ripping through the shaman's chest. He's not dead. He roars in pain and turns his attention from Breanna towards Harold instead. On the other hand, to do so involves going through the Leathe.

She manages to tuck and roll out of the way. Just.

But now he's really angry and is running towards Harold.
"Oh thank the gods." - Breanna, very thankful.
The shaman tries to use his magic to call down a heatwave in the immediate area, but fails to do so.
Maebh tries to hit him with a Flare, but her magic causes some problems again, burning her slightly, but still hitting the Feartarbh with the ball of flame. It doesn't distract him from his target.

Harold stands his ground before the raging eight foot tall Feartarbh, thinking to grasp the spear in its chest and twist it out of his body.


And then we had to call it quits cause Sins had to go.
So we left it there.

The Wrap-Up:

What a bloody cliffhanger.

Still, we'll get to see what happens tonight. Whether or not Harold manages to survive the literal bullrush.

Sorry that took so long to sort out, but I've been quite busy and then had some technical difficulties tonight when I temporarily lost the last half hour or so of the recording.

Anyway, cheers everyone, hope you all enjoyed 1.2.