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  1. - Top - End - #31
    Firbolg in the Playground
    Mewtarthio's Avatar

    Join Date
    Oct 2006

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

    Good to see this is back.
    Quote Originally Posted by Winterwind View Post
    Mewtarthio, you have scared my brain into hiding, a trembling, broken shadow of a thing, cowering somewhere in the soothing darkness and singing nursery rhymes in the hope of obscuring the Lovecraftian facts you so boldly brought into daylight.

  2. - Top - End - #32
    Bugbear in the Playground
    ReaderAt2046's Avatar

    Join Date
    Oct 2012

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

    Agreed! Stabby possumlet is so cute!
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

    Lego Ergo Sum

    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

    Warhammer 40K: Where the faction that is a cross between the Inquisition and Space Nazis are the good guys.

  3. - Top - End - #33
    Dwarf in the Playground

    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Queensland, Australia

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

    Well just thought I'd quickly let you all know it went well last night.

    We did pick up another player, Wings, who is playing a Dwergar Engineer, Tremor Ironfist.

    Unfortunately, he was pretty late so we didn't end up starting until late, so it was only a short session, despite getting through a fair bit of material.

    Better go now,

  4. - Top - End - #34
    Dwarf in the Playground

    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Queensland, Australia

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

    Session 2.1: Drunken Lullabies

    After playing what would have been session 1.10, it was decided that to keep the numbering system rational, the previous 1.4 should really be the first session of the second arc. Hence this one has been renamed 2.1. Hope that's not been too confusing. Cheers,

    I am sorry that this took so long to write up, but despite being so short, this session took an awfully long time to write up. Probably because the group spent more time actually playing rather than paying Dev out. So let's get to it.

    Due to our new player, the party started out split. Oh no! But it's okay, cause I fully intended to have them join up shortly.

    The party itself was heading south, back to Summer Hill, Maebh driving the wagon. It was decided that they would like to play out the afternoon again, something I was quite happy to do as it meant we could get Tremor into the action quicker in the long run. I know, you wouldn't think so, but unbelievably I think it did.

    "So how do we want to approach firstly the matter of our payment and secondly the information we have gained?" - Harold, addressing the group from his seat in the back of the cart.

    "Payment?" - Maebh.

    "Yes, payment from the man who is essentially bankrolling us at the moment." - Harold.

    "Perhaps you didn't understand me. I don't want to be in the room." - Kel'Serrar.

    "I understand that. You can cover me. You could be across the street with an arrow ready. I'm sure it won't hit, but at least you might get close." - Harold.

    "I guess I should find a blindfold." - Kel'Serrar.


    "Maebh, I would like you there as my right hand." - Harold.

    "And you would like me not to be there." - Breanna, pre-empting an assault on her capabilities.

    "No, I would like you to be there and ready to slit some throats." - Harold.

    "... I can't do that unless he's short enough for me to reach." - Breanna.

    With that, they decided that they had sorted out how they would handle the collection of the money they were due.

    Breanna continues her attempts at creeping out the prisoner as they make their way back to Summer Hill in the cart. The sunlight fades and they find themselves on the road at night. The decision is made to press on through the dark hours, to arrive in Summer Hill as soon as possible.

    That night they hear a strange howling from the east. Alert for signs of danger, they press on, sharpening weapons and keeping watchful eyes on the tree line. Maebh contemplates casting a Magical Alarm on the road behind them to warn of anyone following, but they decide not to as she needs to drive the wagon forward and casting the spell would take time.
    Harold considers relieving Breanna from her prisoner-watching duties but promptly forgets when they all notice the eerie sensation of being watched by something in the forest.

    Meanwhile in Summer Hill, I had Wings take an Alcohol Consumption Check to signify how Tremor was spending his night. This was to make sure that he was doing something while the others were rolling their Perception Checks.

    So therefore, for his first action in the story, Tremor Ironfist sits in The Iron Moon Inn, trying hard to drink himself into a coma. He is failing for now, but is certainly putting away a lot of alcohol.

    Meanwhile out on the road with the howling echoing in their ears, the group has an uncomfortable feeling they are being watched.

    Kel'Serrar did exceptionally well on his Check, going into negatives and Harold tried to use his Invarrian nose to garner some more clues.

    On the very edge of his hearing, Kel'Serrar can hear what sounds like very soft footsteps. He's not sure if they're real, but he has learnt to trust his gut instinct by now and he thinks there is something there. The pattern with which they hit the ground seems vaguely familiar to him. His first thoughts are either Corpsewalker or marcwolf.

    Harold takes another whiff of the air, but in all the smells he gets, he comes up with nothing out of the ordinary. He can smell horse, Leathe, Danann, Invarrian (drunken dog-man) and the various smells of the forest.

    And then it hits him. A very faint whiff of decay.

    The whole group starts to freak out and whinge about how it's a Corpsewalker and how mean I am to them. I was incredibly happy with this turn of events as that is precisely the attitude I want towards the Corpsewalkers. I think it means I have gotten just the right balance of fear, enough that they dread taking them on, not enough that they'll run out on the plot.

    Maebh drives the horse to a bit more speed now, taking the road a little quicker than perhaps is safe, but none of the others mind as the faster they travel, the further they are from any Corpsewalkers.

    Now past midnight, Tremor takes another Check for the alcohol he is consuming. He is still barely affected. It has gotten so late that the barkeep himself has told the taciturn and alcoholic dwarf,
    "Look it's getting late. Help yourself, I'm going to bed. Don't set yourself on fire. If you do, make sure it's in the fireplace." - Sleepy barkeep.

    Quite a bit of laughter follows this because of the earlier joke regarding Harold setting himself on fire after a night in this same tavern.

    Nodding to the barkeep, Tremor accepts the offered key to the cellar and proceeds to help himself.

    Back out on the road, it is now early morning and the pale light of the early sun is just breaking through the cloud cover. They have just reached the section of the road where the carriage careened through the undergrowth over a week before.

    Perception Checks again.

    They can still feel the uncomfortable sensation of being watched and Breanna can hear both a soft padding from the road behind them and once the sound of scratching on the bark of a tree.

    Tremor's still drinking in the town, despite the sun coming up outside. Finally, he can feel the effects of all the alcohol, despite having spent at least six solid hours putting away various alcoholic beverages. At this time, some people are actually starting to awaken. Not the many who attempted to match the dwarf drink for drink last night, they're going to be out of it for a fair while yet, but despite this, some people are beginning to stir. Sitting up against the wall with two large tankards of ale, Tremor keeps gulping.

    Back on the road they discuss whether they should move past the carriage and back to Summer Hill or whether they should retrace their steps back to the now abandoned marcwolf cave and see if they can find the bandit camp. Kel'Serrar badly wants the brigands out of the way, however Maebh and Harold advise caution, particularly since Harold himself is still badly wounded. In fact the whole party is still a little worse for wear.

    Despite all points to the contrary, Kel'Serrar heads out to go check out what he can find on his own while Maebh drives the cart with the others back to Summer Hill.

    There is some discussion about whether they should stay to provide him with a quick getaway until it is pointed out that he can actually run faster than the cart would travel with five people in it, plus all of the equipment Harold insists they take with them.

    OOC it is pointed out how slow it will be when the Dwergar joins them.

    "That's it, I'm getting another horse to go with this one!" - Ladyhawk.
    "You could pull me along in a little sled behind you." - Wings.

    Kel'Serrar follows the now almost non-existent trail they followed days before and comes across the ruined carriage. It has been completely wrecked by something with a not inconsiderable amount of strength. The girl's corpse, and those of the two horses, have mysteriously disappeared, leaving no discernable trace for the Danann ranger to follow.

    Checking more closely, Kel'Serrar finds a small ring which he recognises as being worn by the girl when last he was here, lying upon the shredded remains of the richly upholstered seat. The ring itself is practically worthless, however its presence is unusual.

    Looking closely at the scene and the tracks left behind, the ranger determines that the carriage must have been travelling very fast, probably trying to escape from something on the road. Now what could possibly be big enough, hungry enough and fierce enough to lead to that kind of reaction? Just outside a town in the Midlands of all places.

    Kel'Serrar considers whether it is worth trying to find the old marcwolf cave they sheltered in several nights ago, and from there scouting out the bandit camp, but his ability to find both of these considering the cold trails he would be following is unknown. With this in mind, the Danann ranger turns and promptly lopes back onto the road, despite the light-headedness which still plagues him, hoping to catch up to the wagon before he faints. On the way he curses his weakness, wishing that he could deal with the bandits now and by himself, but he is smart enough to know that he's just not capable of that. Yet...

    Maebh's wagon is only an hour at the most outside of Summer Hill when they recognise the running figure of Kel'Serrar approaching from the north. All of them are half dead from fatigue having spent the majority of the previous night in watchful fear.

    Blinking her bleary eyes, Maebh drives her wagon through the western gate of Summer Hill at mid-morning.
    "To the drinking hall!" - Harold, to stony silence. "No, okay then."
    "Alright let's go to the fountain. Breanna and Kel'Serrar, I want you two to cover us while we talk to this guy while you Maebh, I want you to just be your beautiful self, standing next to me." - Harold, getting the hang of using flattery to get his way.

    "Thank you." - Maebh, in such a regal tone that everyone cracked up.

    "Please don't eat me." - Harold in an undertone. And we all thought that perhaps he was starting to use his Charm Skill the way it should be used. For example, without punching people in the face.

    Meanwhile Tremor is still sitting in a tavern, putting away ales because he enjoys his nights. And mornings.
    "And all other times. Provided he's awake." - Ladyhawk.
    There's a lot of talking about respective weights. Especially how Tremor is probably getting closer to a blob than a dwarf.

    Tremor is approached while sitting in the tavern by a short, slight, well-dressed man with a trimmed, pointed beard and short, dark hair. He is very pale, his skin clammy, but any illness he must be feeling he puts aside in his manner.

    "You look like you're relatively experienced." - Rangard, with just a small amount of disdain towards the grizzled Dwergar.

    "I need a hand. I wish you to join a group who is currently in my employ. They'll likely need someone of your abilities anyway. But in the meantime at least, I might be in danger from them as I don't know just how much danger I just put them in. So basically, I will pay you a lot of money if you will make sure that they don't just kill me out of hand." - Rangard, looking slightly nervous.

    Tremor staggers to his feet, looks up at the man, stares him directly in the eye and pauses for a moment, before nodding his agreement.

    Harold leans back against the fountain, finishing off the last of the rum he bought last time he was in town. The rest of his group are waiting in readiness, half of them hidden in the trees and Maebh beside him remaining calm. Walking towards them they can see the figure of Rangard and a short, hairy Dwergar clad in leather and staggering with slight drunkenness. Which after hearing how much he's had to drink over the last twelve hours, is quite an accomplishment.

    "I don't know what happened out there, but judging by the look on your faces, that was not what we expected." - A very pale Rangard to Maebh and Harold.

    "Can you not tell by the rest of us?" - Maebh, pointing out that her clothing is singed and burnt and Harold himself is nursing several major injuries and is looking more battered than ever. Being savaged by a sword-wielding northerner will do that to you.

    Rangard looks at them appraisingly before cracking a slight grin.
    "I thought it would be impolite to mention it my lady. Now please tell me, what happened out there?" - Rangard

    "Well the first night we came across some marcwolves which were trying to eat us. Then speaking of things which wanted to eat us, there were actual Corpsewalkers! And then even more Corpsewalkers." - Harold.

    Rangard flinches at the mention of Corpsewalkers but does not react further.

    "And then, when we actually find the group you sent before us, we found out they were all bitten!" - Harold, indignant.
    "And now they're all dead." - Maebh, in a far too cheerful manner.
    "Yes, cause we were fortunate enough to be there on the day they started to turn." - Harold, sarcastic.
    "How was that fortunate?" - Ladyhawk. Dev isn't the easiest person to determine levels of sarcasm in. As in, he always sounds vaguely sarcastic.

    There is silence for a short while before,
    "I take it from what you say that you put them down?" - Rangard.
    "Yes!" - Harold. Political intrigue is not something Harold will ever be good at.
    "And there were no survivors?" - Rangard.
    "None!" - Harold still frustrated.
    "We survived..." - Maebh in the background.
    "Except us!" - Harold to Rangard.
    "Thank you Mar-ve" - Dev.
    "MAY-VE!" - Everyone. Judging by the recording, even Wings.
    "Mar-ve, May-ve. what's the difference?" - Dev.
    "No because pronunciation doesn't matter does it Gyeorg?"
    "Yes, thank you James." - Dev
    There is silence....
    "I expected Jar-mays."
    The war on pronunciation begins anew, with Duke Dev at the forefront, spreading illiteracy wherever he goes.

    "I haven't been completely truthful with you-" - Rangard beginning.
    "OH REALLY!?" - Harold.
    "Yeah we kind of figured." - Maebh.
    "I would like to share what I can with you now if that is okay." - Rangard.
    "Yes that would be useful. Will it also be sprinkled with more hidden lies and slander?" - Harold.
    "I haven't slandered you at all." - Rangard.
    "Well not yet!" - Harold. He's a stubborn bastard and tends to get completely off-track in conversations. A trait he shares with his player. In copious amounts.

    "I need help. I am for Summer Hill, that's all I care about. That doesn't necessarily make me a good person, but I'm a damn sight better than the alternatives. As you know, the queen of Elspeth has long wanted to claim Summer Hill as her own. Now what you don't know is that, as of these last few months, Queen Esmerelda has been trying to claim us through clandestine means. As you can imagine this is not good for Summer Hill at all. We value our independence, a long-standing gift from a good man and a great king.

    I came by knowledge of these attempts and approached one of my friends here in the town in an attempt to put a halt to these events. Though it took us weeks and in some cases led us into extreme peril, we eventually found that there were some ancient artefacts that could give us the strength to fight back, Focus Stones. Imagine our surprise and joy when we found one may have been hidden in this very area! It became an obsession of ours, to find its location and obtain it, to use its power to crush the power of this cult.

    My friend was a very powerful mage, easily the best magic user the town could lay claim to, capable of melting the very rock with the heat of his conjured flames, and having no experience in these matters myself I used what assets I could to engage some hirelings to accompany him into the ruins. We told them only that we wanted to explore the ruins and they were to accompany my friend.
    I did not know, but at least one of them was in the employ of Elspeth simultaneously and betrayed us. My friend died down there, cut down from behind even as he sent a whisper to me.

    Now my investigations have led me to believe that the cult has been using those very same ruins as some sort of headquarters where they come together to plan I imagine-" -Rangard, interrupted in the middle of his spiel.
    This is about as close I have come to arrogant GM monologue.

    "Ha, we killed them." - Maebh, triumphantly.
    "Well , not all of them." - Harold in an undertone.
    "You found the cult?" - Rangard, grave.
    "Yes, we killed the head of the cult." - Harold.
    Rangard stands in place, taking in this new information. Meanwhile, Tremor, to whom all of this is new, is just perplexed.
    "Actually, we killed a really strong one, and there was also a short, old man. Oh and another one who's sitting in the cart whimpering I reckon." - Maebh, thoughtful.
    "Have you managed to get anything out of him?" - Rangard, latching on to this new player in the game.
    "We have two pieces of information, and we will share them with you. I think I will ask you to go get the prisoner Maebh." - Harold, probably thinking that Rangard and Tremor don't necessarily know that Kel'Serrar and Breanna are in hiding and are therefore unknown observers, elects to send his already revealed ally.

    Probably the best choice he could make in the circumstances.

    "Well, before you send your mage away, I have a request I'm afraid I must ask of her." - Rangard, a small trace of desperation leaking into his usual calm voice.
    "Only if you ask nicely." - Maebh, putting her 'haughty' on.
    "I will ask nicely, as it pleases you my lady." - Rangard, bowing slightly. For an arrogant man, this is about as close to actual respect one could get from him. He continues.
    "Through some means, I know not how, the cult must be aware I am working against them. I have been cursed and I do not expect I have much life left in me. Unfortunately, since my friend died, I have no other mage in this town whom I trust." - Rangard. He pauses.
    "I don't even trust you that much, I am sorry. But you're the only hope I have." - Rangard.

    The astute here might realise that his story here has some holes. Whether this is down to yet more untruths or perhaps just a gap of knowledge, who’s to say?

    "Ah, not til I get some answers." - Harold cuts in.
    "I am sorry, but time is of the essence. Whatever questions you have, I swear I will answer to the best of my abilities once I am cured." - Rangard. Even in mortal peril, he can't help but strike a deal. Must be the merchant in him.
    "Alright then." - Maebh, rolling up her sleeves and ignoring Harold as she prepares to cast the spell.

    As Maebh observes the merchant closely, she can feel the darkness within him, slowly eating him away. He is likely in rather extreme agony and it's a miracle he's not catatonic with the pain. She can also see that his condition is will worsen within the hour.

    Rangard was hit with the Black Death curse. It slowly but surely strangles every vein in his body with burning daemonic energy, causing a very painful death. Usually it takes less than a day to bring down the target, the effects increasing as time wears on.

    Rangard's been dealing with the curse for over a day now, showing an extremely strong will, not only to have survived this long, but still be able to communicate and move. Of course, even he is not invincible, and without a cure, his time would be up.

    "Okay, looks like a dangerous one. I'm going to need some water someone." - Maebh, playing the doctor for once and holding out her drinking bowl.
    Harold takes the bowl and dips it into the fountain, bringing up some water which he carefully carries over to the mage.
    Maebh accepts the bowl of water without comment and holds it before her in both hands, channelling some of her power into the water contained in the vessel. A soft green-ish glow emanates from the liquid, which cannot truly be called water anymore. Dipping a dainty finger in it, Maebh draws a runic symbol of the Scribhinn
    The Scribhinn is the Danann script. The language is called the Cainte.
    on Rangard's forehead before offering the rest to the merchant to drink. He does so and gasps as the liquid instantly freezes his insides, burning out the dark magic with extreme, purifying chill.

    In true Monty Python fashion, he got better.

    "Okay then, as you know the group I sent out betrayed us to Elspeth and killed my friend." - Rangard. He takes a deep breath.
    "The Corpsewalkers are my doing. I set them upon the other group, hoping to destroy them in a way which would not be traced back to me in any way." - Rangard.

    "Okay then, next question. What is it a cult of?" - Harold.

    "The destruction of what I hold dear. Failing that, they're trying to find a way to bind a daemon to bring us down from within. There is no religious purpose behind them. It is sheer acquisition of power and gold, nothing more." - Rangard.

    "Right. Okay, 'Mar-ve,' could you please go get the prisoner." - Harold, once again mangling Maebh's name.
    "First of all it's Maebh, and secondly okay, but only since you asked politely." - Maebh, primly.

    Maebh heads off and swiftly returns with the struggling and bound prisoner slung over her shoulder. He must be rather heavy, but the tough Danann mage doesn't seem to notice his wriggling or his whimpers of fear.

    Makes you wonder what she usually carries over her shoulder like that....

    "I see. Hopefully you don't mind if we deliver him into the care of one of my associates. She should be able to wring some truth from him." - Rangard, with a hard glare at the bound prisoner.
    "I want to be there." - Maebh, quick as a flash.
    "That can be arranged." - Rangard, nodding.
    "So do I." - Harold, with something approaching weighty finality.
    There is silence for a moment, then....
    "How many people do you wish to cram into this tiny little torture room?" - Rangard, eyebrow raised.
    "Just two more than usual." - Harold.
    "Right so four already, plus the one being cut up..." - Rangard. He looks at the Danann and Invarrian, sizing them up.
    "Okay, I shall see what can be done." - Rangard.

    "Good. There is also an issue regarding a bandit camp in the vicinity." - Harold, pulling forth the note given to them by a previous prisoner. Their prisoners tend to meet damn sticky ends.....

    "As you can see it's been signed by their leader, code-named, The Shadow. Any clues as to who that is?" - Harold.
    "Unfortunately, I don't know, but I would bet it has something to do with Elspeth and their damned Queen." - Rangard, regretfully.
    Harold sighs and nods his head resignedly.

    "Well, I believe I owe you all a not inconsiderable amount of money." - Rangard.
    "Yes, and you'd better pay up now." - Maebh.
    "Okay then, let us go to my manor and we shall organise payment and the interrogation of your prisoner." - Rangard, turning to leave. Before he does so, he halts and turns back to the Invarrian and Dannan.
    "I don't suppose you managed to find that Focus Stone while you were down there by any chance?" - Rangard, with just a little bit of hope.
    "No." - Maebh, lying through her teeth.
    "Well, we might have actually. We'll have to got the cart and check it out." - Harold, trying to get a bit of time alone to discuss it with the others.

    "Well then, I guess I should give you your money first and we can sort that out later. I'd be very much obliged if you would come with me and I will introduce you to my associate while we're there." - Rangard, a little preoccupied with his own thoughts.

    More to come very soon. Right here in fact.
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-10-17 at 09:45 AM.

  5. - Top - End - #35
    Dwarf in the Playground

    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Queensland, Australia

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

    Told you so, here's part 2 of Session 1.4.

    The merchant heads off with Harold and Tremor in tow, leaving the Danann with the bound prisoner. Grinning maliciously, she takes the rope and pulls the man after the three men, oblivious to his feeble struggles. After they have left, Breanna and Kel'Serrar drop out of their respective trees and make their way back to the wagon, thinking to guard it while the others are otherwise engaged.

    After leading his companions to his household, Rangard takes them to his study and starts the transaction, paying them from his own personal reserves.

    Everyone gets their money and there is much rejoicing. Tremor gets a bit less than the rest as really all he's done is act as an intimidating, short, drunken bodyguard.

    "Now that is out of the way, I shall introduce you to my associate." - Rangard, rubbing his hands together. He's looking a bit livelier already, but it will take some time before the damage inflicted by the curse is fully reversed.

    "Are you talking about the dwarf?" - Harold, pointing at Tremor.

    "No." - Rangard, who nods his head towards the corner of the room.

    Standing there in the corner, unobserved until now, is a short Selkye woman, clad in dark grey cloth, a deep cowl obscuring her facial features. She stalks over to the group, cold eyes appraising everyone individually before bowing respectfully to Rangard.

    "Well met." - Selkye assassin, having straightened once more. At about the same height as Tremor, both Harold and Maebh tower over her, but she still holds herself with an easy confidence.

    "Indeed." - Harold, with a raised eyebrow.
    Maebh offers a respectful nod in greeting, while Tremor simply grunts.
    Rangard addresses the group.
    "With your permission, I would like to grant this woman access to your prisoner." - Rangard.
    The prisoner starts to try and escape again, drawing only a very sharp pull on the rope from Maebh which promptly cuts into his windpipe. He starts whimpering some more.
    "Shut up. Do you want something to complain about? Like my boot in your face?" - Harold.
    "So, may I begin?" - Selkye assassin, quietly.
    Maebh simply nods.

    The small woman reaches down and picks the man up by the scruff of the neck, before physically hauling him out the door and down the hallway, ignoring his panicked struggles and screams. She is very strong for her size, ruthless, and focussed only on doing her job. The others follow her out.

    She continues down a flight of stairs, dragging the prisoner as she goes, thinking to exploit the bruised flesh later, before turning right through another doorway. Inside the room are two tables, one bare stone, the other polished wood, strewn with various wicked looking knives.

    The Selkye woman ties the man to the stone table while Maebh and Rangard look on and Harold and Tremor lean up against the doorway, getting to know each other through the universal language of betting.
    "Three coppers says he lasts no more than three minutes." - Harold, rubbing two coppers together.
    "You're on, he'll last longer than that, no matter how good the little lass is." - Tremor.

    Ten seconds later....
    "I win?" - Harold, grinning.

    Within ten minutes, the cultist has revealed everything he knows to the gathered torturers. The assassin gives him some time to talk without the attentions of the steel blades. Those wicked steel blades.

    "We were hired to produce something which could be unleashed within the town so that the forces outside can strike while they are distracted. We’re looking to harness a daemon, bend it to our control completely without anchoring it to a physical target. One cannot use the power of the daemons without anchoring it to a physical object. When you use magic, you anchor a daemon within yourself. Necromancers anchor the daemon to a corpse, which is far less volatile than anchoring the daemon to a living being, especially one who is unwilling to be a receptacle. We seek to bind it within an aethyric box, and then turn it loose and although we would prefer to retain some control over it, that control is not necessary to our needs.” - Frantic and bleeding cultist.

    "Do you mean that control is not necessary now, but your long term desire is to control it?" - Tremor, interposing himself in the conversation with typical gruffness.

    The cultist trembles.
    "Well..... AAAAARGH! More or less...." - Cultist, defeated after the assassin stabs him once again, thinking he has gone long enough with pain.

    "Well then, that was informative. We will leave Meldith here to dispose of him, shall we?" - Rangard, unconsciously rubbing his hands together as if washing them.
    "Fair enough. I'm not really into the disposal of bodies." - Dev.
    "I noticed. Like the little girl's body you consigned to the wolves."
    "Well.... It was good protein for them!" - Dev.

    The three companions follow Rangard back into his study, leaving the Selkye to her grisly task.
    "As you can see, I did not lie to you about the cult within the town." - Rangard, grim.
    "No you did not." - Harold, nodding in agreement, if perhaps a little grudgingly.

    At this point Dev says, "But you did...." and makes a strange whining noise in the back of his throat. The weird thing? So does Wings. Everyone else laughs and ignores the important question.
    "What?" - LD.
    The fact is, none of us had a clue what the two of them were talking about in their own weird, spontaneously created whine-language.
    "We obviously bonded over the gambling!" - Dev.

    "Say hypothetically, we continued helping you...." - Harold, leaving the question open.
    "Would we be paid more?" - Tremor, finishing it. Those two would become nigh inseparable as the night went on. May all the Gods of men save us all.
    "Of course." - Rangard, smoothly.
    "Okay then, so in that hypothetical world, how much are we talking, and what would be our next step?" - Harold.
    "To answer your first question, however much you feel you are worth. I am a wealthy and powerful merchant. Name a figure remotely reasonable and I shall see it fulfilled." - Rangard, somewhat smug.
    "I want one hundred crowns." - Maebh, quietly leaning against the wall.

    One hundred crowns is an awful lot. In modern day terms, what she did there was like trying to withdraw seven million dollars from the local supermarket.

    "How about ten then?" - Maebh, smiling a little in the face of Rangard's incredulous look. It's still a lot of money, but he's wealthy and he needs them. So he can afford it for now, but in the overall scheme of things, that is likely to break him when combined with the money he handed out earlier that day.

    "So two each then?" - Rangard, with a sinking feeling when he sees the Danann mage shake her head.
    "No, just for me." - Maebh, cheerful.
    Stunned silence. Then,
    "Our mage regards herself very highly." - Harold, somewhat sarcastically. Well we assumed so anyway. He might just be the master of understatement. You never can tell with Dev.

    "I do. You would all be dead if it weren't for me." - Maebh, haughty, and a little affronted that Harold would take that tone regarding her.
    "I am willing to negotiate with you all individually." - Rangard, heading off the argument. After all, he really doesn't want a mage to start flinging fire around inside his expensive manor house. Especially if he's going to have to hand over a significant portion of his money to said mage.

    "Well anyway, from this point onward, I want you to be open and honest with all of us. Otherwise, I'm out and hanging you out to dry." - Harold, moving back to the task at hand.
    Rangard nods, but crucially, doesn't commit to anything.

    "What did you need the stone for exactly?" - Maebh, bringing up the one mystery she had left to her before Harold can demand a commitment from Rangard. The Focus Stone she found, while useful, doesn't exactly lend the wielder earth-shattering power by any stretch.
    "Ah, well as you know my friend was a rather powerful mage, and that stone was to be the deciding factor in this struggle. But of course, if you haven't found it then we just need to rely on old fashioned force of arms to get this done." - Rangard, sadly.
    "But even if we had it, you'd have no mage to use it." - Maebh, frowning.
    "If we had the stone, I might just trust you enough to be happy letting you use it." - Rangard, sighing.

    "So what is our next step now?" - Harold, moving onwards.
    "So wait, what's the time? In the game." - Wings.
    "About eleven in the morning."
    "Ah, time for a drink then?" - Wings, to much laughter.

    "So would we look at taking out this bandit camp?" - Harold.
    "Honestly, I don't think that's much of a problem compared to the cult within the town itself. Now I do have a lead for you if you are willing to investigate. I'd prefer you to do it than any of my other associates. Meldith is unfortunately, a little too well-known around here." - Rangard.

    "She had a bit of a tight scrape while observing another person of interest and only escaped by assuming a fourth false identity during the chase." - Rangard, ignoring the raised eyebrows and disbelieving expressions. They all know that Breanna is not capable of anything like that, so it gives them all a bit of an idea regarding Meldith's abilities. That and the fact that whatever ran her off was powerful enough to do so.

    "We'll have to get our own assassin to do this by the sounds of it." - Harold, in an undertone while stroking his chin.

    "Anyway, there is a man in town, goes by the last name of Shylocke. He's a merchant, one of the more powerful ones in the area. Now I had him followed by Meldith and she found that he frequents the Harvest Wolf, Wilmund Brewer's tavern over on the west side of town. Unfortunately, access to the backroom was difficult for her to access and she was only just able to escape without being compromised." - Rangard, imparting as much information as possible.

    "Okay, I take it the dwarf is joining us?" - Harold, referring to Tremor.
    "Us and our little band of murder-hobos?" - Sins.
    "I would be very much in your debt if you would join them." Rangard.
    "Yes. Yes you would." - Tremor, gruff.
    "Welcome. By the way we are called the Order of the Stick!" - Dev.
    "No we are not!" - Ladyhawk, indignant that she didn't get to propose her name for the party.
    "Order of the Beard?" - Dev.
    "I don't like it cause I don't have one." - Ladyhawk.
    "Order of the Beer?" - Dev. Strangely apt.
    "....No." - Ladyhawk.
    "Order of the Arrow?" - Wings, helpfully.
    "We don't really know each other well enough to have an 'Order' yet." - Ladyhawk.
    "How about we just stick with Murder-Hobos for the moment?" - Sins.
    "Order of the Murder-Hobo?" - Ladyhawk, laughing.
    "Wow.... How noble...."

    "Well then, that's settled. Like to go drinking at the tavern?" - Harold to Tremor. New best buds they are.
    "Yes!" - Tremor, gruffly.
    "Okay then, well we'll do that and Maebh, perhaps you might want to.... um... well..." - Harold, thinking over the best way to use the prickly mage.
    "Sneak in the back door?" - Tremor, helpful as ever.
    "Yeah!" - Harold. Let's face it, he's probably already half drunk on the mere thought of alcohol.
    "We'll cause the distraction lass, you go around the back." - Tremor.
    "I've got it! We'll start a drinking competition with EVERYONE in the pub!" - Harold, excited at the glorious bingeing to come.

    At some point Tremor did work out rates. The dwarf gets 20 sulvers a week for every full week he stays in service to Rangard. In addition to that he will get 2 crowns upon the cult's destruction.

    The rest of the party will also get the 2 crowns each, however they have not come to any conclusion with Rangard with regards to other payment.

    They head off in their separate directions after getting instructions from Rangard on how to get to the Harvest Wolf. Tremor and Harold walk directly to the tavern, happily getting to know each other, while Maebh strides back to the cart, a solitary, foreboding figure in the town. She's going to pick up Breanna and let Kel'Serrar what's going on. Hopefully by the time she and the Leathe make it to the tavern, the drinking games will have begun and no one will notice them. Hopefully.

    Out on the street, Maebh changes her mind about going back all the way, sending her two companions news of the situation through a Whispering Wind.

    Much like D&D’s Sending, Whispering Wind is a Weathermancy spell, very handy in the right circumstances.

    “At Rangard’s house. Prisoner gave away everything, evil queen woman to invade. Going to a pub to find out more, need Breanna here.” – Maebh’s whispered message.

    Kel’Serrar and Breanna, after initially freaking out at the noise, recognise Maebh’s voice. Kel’Serrar leans back against the edge of the cart, completely at ease. As far as he’s concerned, it’s not his problem and watching all their belongings is probably the best thing he could do at the moment.

    Breanna meanwhile decides that she should go help, and accosts the first person she comes across, asking the townsman where she could find Rangard’s house. She obtains decent directions and knocks on the door of the house matching the description she was given.

    A servant answers the knock.

    “You’re with the group my master has hired, aren’t you?” – Servant.
    “Yes, I am.” – Breanna.
    “Would you like me to bring you to him?” – Servant.
    “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind.” – Breanna.

    The servant shows the Leathe into a sitting room and she waits for barely a minute before Rangard comes in, pale yet smiling.

    “I take it you are looking for your friends?” – Rangard.
    “They’re not my friends, they’re my cover, but yes I need to find them.” – Breanna.
    “They’re at the Harvest Wolf, a tavern on the west side of town.” – Rangard.
    “Thank you!” – Breanna, bubbly, trying to freak him out. It seems to have worked.
    “Now get out of my house please.” – Rangard, looking worried at the assassin’s sudden and pronounced change in demeanour.

    Breanna leaves the house, whistling cheerfully to herself, heading off the Harvest Wolf.

    Meanwhile, Harold and Tremor have come to the modest tavern and have ordered a massive amount of alcohol.
    “Can I expect that between the two of you, you will drink me out of house and home?” – Wilmund Brewer, owner and barman of the Harvest Wolf.
    “We’re an Invarrian and a Dwergar…. What do you think?” – Harold.
    “Okay, I’ll just be down in the cellar.” – Brewer, sighing with resignation.
    “While you’re down there, make sure you bring enough up. We’re going to having a drinking competition.” – Tremor, gruff but happy.
    “And who will your opponent be?” – Brewer, looking slightly happier. After all, someone’s going to have to pay for the beverages.
    “EVERYONE!” – Harold and Tremor together. At this point, Brewer knew his doom was approaching.
    “….. Let me go put up a sign.” – Brewer. He’s a shrewd businessman and knows that the more advertising he gets in, the better.

    The sign reads as follows:
    Come test your stomach against two of the world’s most seasoned drinkers! Harold Oakenshield and Tremor Ironfist have come down from the wild lands of the cold north, to partake of Summer Hill’s best ales. If you manage to outlast either of them over the course of the afternoon, you get half your money back!

    Despite only being two in the afternoon at the latest, the drinking competition starts off huge, with at least forty of the locals trying their abilities against the Invarrian and the still hung-over and partially drunk Dwergar. The ale is quaffed easily and both Tremor and Harold share an approving glance. It’s good stuff.

    Maebh stands and watches outside, eventually joined by Breanna, while round after round of ales come round the table for the next two hours. The two hour’s solid drinking has made the rest of the crowd considerably less enthusiastic, while Harold and Tremor are just getting warmed up.
    Drew a comparison to the Legolas and Gimli drinking competition in The Lord of the Rings.

    More people are coming in, drawn by both the spectacle and the good mood pervading the tavern and surrounding area, one which makes passers-by really feel like a drink.

    Tremor sits in his seat, still downing ales one after the other, with a blood-alcohol concentration swiftly approaching something in the range of 60%. It’s likely one could inject a donkey with that amount of alcohol and kill it outright.

    “We’ll go another hour before giving Maebh and Breanna the signal to move in.” – Dev.
    “Yeah, we’re trying to drink the whole town unconscious.” – Wings.
    “You know, if anyone can drink over two thousand people under the table, it would be you two. You’re sure you want to go another hour?”
    “Yeah, we want the concentration to be on us.” – Dev.
    “At the moment, the concentration is within you.”
    “Alright well, we’ll give the signal to start to head around the side now.” – Wings.

    Tremor stands up, stretching his hands into the air, but in his drunken state he forgets about the matter of his height. So he stands on his seat, the crowd looking at him like he’s about to topple over and fall unconscious any second now. They’re to be disappointed.

    “That’s the signal, let’s move.” – Maebh to Breanna. The two women start to walk surreptitiously around the edge of the building.

    Tremor on the other hand sits down and starts chugging his ale again. Both of them are starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, but neither is looking like falling over yet.
    Mechanically, Tremor is looking a lot worse than Harold is at the moment, but neither has suffered a failure by enough to cause unconsciousness. On the other hand, the negatives to their Alcohol Consumption Checks are really adding up, so it’s only a matter of time. Harold almost went down in this third hour, but expended a Luck Point to adjust the roll.

    Breanna approaches the backdoor of the tavern with Maebh covering her. The Leathe takes her thin dagger and with supreme skill, picks the padlock. With a small sound of delight, Breanna grabs the door with a small furry hand and swings it open towards herself and walks in.

    The small, dark room was lit only by a single candle upon a wooden table, so when the door was opened, letting in the late afternoon sun, the group of men gathered around the table knew about it immediately, noticing the new light source along with the haplessly backlit Leathe assassin standing in the doorway, who is only now realising her mistake. All of them take a look at the diminutive Leathe-girl and bolt. Through her.

    The men run out the door, leaving Breanna battered and bruised on the ground as she’s been trampled. Maebh is taken by surprise as well and with a split-second thought, she tackles one of them, slamming the man to the ground. But something feels wrong. She lifts herself off him and sees he is smiling before he just disappears into thin air before her eyes. Maebh scrabbles desperately but quickly comes to the conclusion that he is not invisible, but is in fact not even there anymore.

    Breanna eventually picks herself up off the ground, with some difficulty while Maebh walks into the room, still troubled by her recent run-in with whatever she had a run-in with.

    Harold and Tremor keep up the drinking, not knowing how things are progressing outside. Tremor finally has had enough and he sinks to the table in an alcoholic haze, probably with more alcohol in his system than any other bodily fluid. And he’s not due to wake up until at least five tomorrow morning.

    Unaware of Tremor’s alcoholic collapse, Breanna and Maebh search the room for anything they can use as incriminating evidence. They find very little, a small black candle, lit on the middle of the table and some sheets of blank parchment and pens on a desk in the corner, along with some innocuous books in shelves along the eastern wall and a bottle of fairly expensive wine in a small box.

    Leaving the candle where it lies, Maebh walks around the side and back out to the front, letting Harold know that it is time to go.

    “Well, that’s it, I’m done. I’d better take my mate here to go get some sleep.” – Harold, swaying slightly as he gets up, before bending over to try and pick up the comatose dwarf.
    As drunk and slightly crippled as he is, it’s unsurprising that this doesn’t work. Maebh comes over to help.
    “I’ve got it lass.” – Harold, drunk and slurring.
    “Fine. I could set you on fire you know.” – Maebh.
    With difficulty, Harold manages to lift the dwarf over his shoulder, and manages, just, to carry Tremor to the wagon, throwing him down into it, disturbing Kel’Serrar.
    “I’M SO HAMMERED!” – Harold, a drunken apology perhaps?

    Maebh on the other hand hires two rooms at the Iron Moon Inn, one for herself and another for Breanna, in a rare show of camaraderie. Kel’Serrar? Sleeps in a tree in the courtyard again, having escaped from the cart and its alcoholic aroma.

    Harold and Tremor lie in the cart in a drunken sleep.

    Six in the evening and Maebh and Breanna eat together in the tavern, Harold and Tremor are still sleeping and Kel’Serrar sits in his tree, trying to ignore the stench wafting up from beneath him. The two poor marcwolf pups curl up at the base of Kel’Serrar’s tree.

    They wake up with the worst hangovers they have ever experienced. Where most hangovers make the head hurt and everything else feel sort of fuzzy, for these two, everything hurts. They drank so much that their teeth will feel as if they are buzzing and every single one of their noise hairs will be burning with agony. They declare vengeance against the birds of the world, who sing as the sun comes up. This is, in fact, an act of vengeance in itself, an attack against those whose alcoholic fumes took the lives of several birds during the night.

    Harold and Tremor awaken almost simultaneously to the sound of a keening shriek, one which sets their teeth on edge and fills Harold with fear. Corpsewalker!

    And we left it there.

    As you can see, despite only playing for half as long as our previous sessions, they really did get through a lot dialogue. I think it was also a good first session for Wings and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

    Our next game is this coming Friday, hopefully with Wings, though he's quite difficult to get a hold of. But we shall see.

    Hope you all enjoyed, sorry for the delay,
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-04-30 at 06:47 PM.

  6. - Top - End - #36
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Default Re: Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

    Wow That's A Lot Of Alcohol!!!! Did they win the drinking match? How much did the owner make off of them? Just how hard is it to cast a Teleport spell like that one bad guy did?
    Last edited by ReaderAt2046; 2013-03-19 at 09:40 PM.
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

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    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

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  7. - Top - End - #37
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    Default Re: Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

    Awesome session. I approve of drunken dwarves.

    Quote Originally Posted by ReaderAt2046 View Post
    Wow That's A Lot Of Alcohol!!!! Did they win the drinking match? How much did the owner make off of them? Just how hard is it to cast a Teleport spell like that one bad guy did?
    I think that "a lot of alcohol" is massively understating what happened...
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  8. - Top - End - #38
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Well I'm glad you both approve.

    That was indeed a lot of alcohol. An awful, awful lot. Technically, as Tremor collapsed and Harold tossed it in after three hours, no one really won, which is just about their respective trains of thought when they woke up with such extensive hangovers. But yes, everyone who tried to match them from the beginning went down afore they did. Towards the end, they were challenging blokes who'd come in after the two of them had been drinking for an hour or two already. And often drinking them under too.

    Brewer made a hell of a lot off it, though at some point he stopped charging Tremor and Harold as by this stage he was rolling in it and had a lot of money off all the other customers. (I might add that Brewer's prices are quite high usually, so even those who managed to claim the discount were still paying a bit more than the ale was worth. So Brewer could afford to be generous. Consider it the Entertainer's Tax.)

    As far as casting a Teleportation-type spell, nigh-on impossible, something the players and their characters know. Suggesting that there is something else at work here....

    Glad you enjoyed it guys,

  9. - Top - End - #39
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Well that went rather well.

    Nice, roughly three and a half hour session, plenty of good-natured ribbing and a slightly more serious tone than last session.

    Oh, and Kel'Serrar's past comes back to bite him....

  10. - Top - End - #40
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    Default Re: Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

    Quote Originally Posted by Phoenixguard09 View Post
    Well that went rather well.

    Nice, roughly three and a half hour session, plenty of good-natured ribbing and a slightly more serious tone than last session.

    Oh, and Kel'Serrar's past comes back to bite him....
    Yay! When can we expect the write-up? Oh, and is there any way to send Breanna a feezy squeez?
    Last edited by ReaderAt2046; 2013-03-22 at 09:40 AM.
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

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    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

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  11. - Top - End - #41
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Well I expect the write-up to be finished in maybe a week or so. Hopefully.

    Oh, and dare I ask, what, pray tell, is a feezy squeez?

  12. - Top - End - #42
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    Default Re: Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

    Quote Originally Posted by Phoenixguard09 View Post
    Well I expect the write-up to be finished in maybe a week or so. Hopefully.

    Oh, and dare I ask, what, pray tell, is a feezy squeez?
    Feezy squeezes are a creation of my sister, small fuzzy creatures (about maybe an inch tall in this world), with unknowable magic powers and the personality of about a 6-year-old. Physically, they have a spherical head/body (nobody knows which it is) with a face on one side. They have very big ears, but smallish hands and feet, and no legs or arms. They are obsessed with cheese and powdered sugar, can teleport at will, frequently attempt to literally get in my hair, and a large chunk of them inhabit a demiplane located in my pants pockets...

    Yeah. They're weird. But they are also extremely cute and fuzzy, so they match Bree really well.
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

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    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

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  13. - Top - End - #43
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Well I've started the write-up, about half an hour into the three and a half hour session.

    I shall attempt to pass on the fezzy squeez to LD. It is my humble and solemn duty to do so.

    On another note, wow they got off topic last month. And it's interesting to note that they really lost track of the important stuff they need to do.

    Without giving away too much, they didn't follow up on their failed investigations, but instead went out and tried to find the bandit camp.

    I mean okay, Kel'Serrar has a massive hatred of bandits and Harold really wants to beat up something weaker than he is for once, but still, this could be disastrous.

    Stay tuned,

  14. - Top - End - #44
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Session 2.2: The Lady in Red

    Okay we started out by allocating dice to everyone as Wings doesn’t have any D10’s and Sins and Dev forgot theirs, meaning that Ladyhawk, LD and I had to split our dice between everyone. It was difficult to manage but we sorted it all out swiftly enough.

    We now begin where we left off, with Harold and Tremor awakening in the party’s cart.

    Harold and Tremor awaken almost simultaneously to the sound of a keening shriek, one which sets their teeth on edge and fills Harold with fear. Corpsewalker!

    And then he looks around and takes in the grins Breanna and Kel’Serrar are trying to hide with varying amounts of success. A look of comprehension slowly begins to draw across Harold’s face, even as the startled Dwergar next to him looks around frantically for the threat.

    Breanna secretly used Phantom Noise to emulate a Corpsewalker’s scream in order to freak out the two drunkards. Cue hilarity from Ladyhawk and Sins. Admittedly, after the first few moments of shocked realisation, even Dev and Wings found it distinctly hilarious.

    After some time trying to get their bearings, Harold and Tremor get up, with some difficulty and gasping in exquisite agony.

    Both Harold and Tremor suffer from a -10 to any Skill Checks until they can get cleaned up and feeling better due to the massive hangovers. Usually it would be a -5 but this was a LOT of alcohol.

    The five of them are arranged around in the courtyard where this all began, Tremor having joined their number and assimilated fairly well into the group. On the other hand, with yesterday’s distinct lack of success in finding out more information on the cult, they are no nearer to the core of the situation.

    “Food…. Now…” – Harold to himself, face in his hands, trying to force the pounding in his head to go away. Funny how drinking always seems like fun until the next morning when the birds are singing and the sun shines brightly.

    There is some semi-out of character chatter here as the others make fun of Harold’s predicament in particular. Dev responds with threats of violence, but Ladyhawk delivers the kicker.
    “I have a spell which creates blazing light….. Don’t piss me off.” – Ladyhawk.

    “I’m going to go get something to eat.” – Harold, struggling to stand up from his seat on the fountain. “Tremor, do you want to come with me?”

    With a groan, Tremor stands and walks with the Invarrian, the two of them attempting to find a tavern they can order a meal and clean themselves up in. As they walk off, Harold whistles to his marcwolf pup, wincing in pain as he does so. Yet the pup perks up his ears and bounds after the two of them, yapping quietly to himself and keeping pace with them with a happy expression.

    While Harold and Tremor go on their way, Kel’Serrar finds himself another tavern in the opposite direction, Maebh sits with her horse, looking after it, thinking to herself and enjoying the peace and quiet. Breanna on the other hand picks up her marcwolf pup and sits down in the shade of a tree, playing with it and just resting. After all, you never know when another life or death situation might come up, and a little bit of rest couldn’t hurt.

    After some time, Tremor ends up leading Harold to the Iron Moon Inn, the very same establishment Tremor was staying in before he met up with the rest of the group. They open the door and hear a gruff voice from inside.

    “No dogs allowed in here.” – Barkeep, wiping a tankard.
    He looks up and sees the two walk in, missing the marcwolf pup at their feet and apologises.
    “Sorry, I thought I could smell wet dog.” – Barkeep, realising that he can in fact smell mankyInvarrian.

    Harold and Tremor order a large breakfast, rooms for the use of the baths and glasses of water and brandy to try and see off some of this infernal pain. They set to it, first washing up to be more respectable, Harold feeling sorry for the state of his clothing as he takes his bath, noticing once he starts to take it off that it’s ripped and bloodstained beyond almost all recognition.

    All the same, he has nothing else, so he puts the shredded garments back on, hiding the pup in his backpack again. It’s going to be a far more difficult to do this soon as those pups won’t stay small and young forever.

    And for that matter, those pups might be cute and friendly now, but without some proper training, they’re going to be vicious predators with no restraint when they grow up. Lucky Harold and Breanna have Animal Training, not so lucky that neither of them is particularly good at it.

    After washing up, both come downstairs to eat their breakfasts and get as much fluid as possible into their systems in an attempt to flush out the alcohol. After some time, the marcwolf pup clambers out of Harold’s pack, sitting on the floor next to the Invarrian who reaches down to give the little creature some choice pieces of bacon, which are set upon with cute, slavering ferocity.

    -5 penalties now which will hang around for the next three hours in game. This is instead of the -10’s they were dealing with.

    The barman looks disapprovingly at the marcwolf but holds his tongue and lets it slide.

    Kel’Serrar manages to find the fourth tavern in Summer Hill, the Golden Arrow and orders water and raw meat, garnering him a funny look from the edgy barman. After all, there’s no one else in the common-room apart from the carnivorous Danann and the barman, who looks confused at the savage meal and the distinctly un-manly beverage.

    Kel’Serrar is completely unconcerned. After all, what should he care what the barman thinks?

    Some off-topic where Wings asks about investing in a business, The Iron Moon in particular.

    Heading back to the cart, Harold and Tremor go through what is left of the ‘loot,’ Tremor taking anything he feels he could use in the future, namely a pair of leather bracers. The rest they gather up and look to take it to the marketplace, hoping to find someone to take it off their hands. Unfortunately for them, finding someone who will take this war equipment off their hands in a relatively quiet town is quite difficult, only managing to get rid of a jerkin and the scimitar. Even with a bit of haggling, Harold is unable to get an amount equal to the armour’s worth. That being said, this particular jerkin was EradanBlackstar’s, who after all, was impaled through the jerkin by a Feartarbh horn. And the jerkin hasn’t exactly been cleaned, nor repaired.

    Breanna meanwhile sets her pup to sleep after an intense playing session and climbs the tallest tree in the courtyard, ostensibly Kel’Serrar’s tree, before settling down to take a nap.

    The party takes inventory again after heading back to the cart with a little extra weight in the pockets. Maebh claims the tower shield they were unable to sell, figuring it might come in handy as a spell component, if not, perhaps it could be used to deflect arrows and the like. Tremor on the other hand takes a chain hauberk, wearing it under his leather jerkin, plus the pair of leather bracers. Only the head of Manius’ maul is left in the cart with no one claiming it for any use.

    A bit of out of character discussion regarding whether or not they should take on the bandit camp out to the north, or try and follow on their failed task from yesterday. Looking back on it I wish I had insisted this be in character, as it really should have been, but I slipped up here.

    “Alright, we’re going to sort out these bandits then, because they might have something to do with Elspeth and because the bloody Leathe messed up, we still don’t know who needs to die here.” – Harold, summing it all up.

    “Well, it’s about time.” – Kel’Serrar, with grim determination.

    “I’m so glad you’re excited, because you’re usually so indifferent.” – Dev, slightly sarcastic. We think.

    Anyway, the party heads back to the courtyard to pick up Breanna, Kel’Serrar spotting her in the highest branches of his tree. There was some talk about throwing objects at her to knock her out of the tree, but, well, thankfully they agreed with me that would be stupid.

    As it is, Kel’Serrar climbs the tree and shakes the Leathe girl awake, before pushing her out of the tree. Breanna screams as she falls, cursing Kel’Serrar. Luckily for her, Maebh drives the cart underneath the tree, and Breanna tumbles as she lands on the back of the wagon, diffusing most of the impact of her landing. With a quiet laugh, Kel’Serrar drops out of the tree and strides along beside the cart.

    And they’re on their way, heading out of Summer Hill once more and back out onto the north road at about mid-morning. Their journey is uneventful, however, looking behind them, Kel’Serrar spots a lean figure in dark red on the road towards Summer Hill. He brings this up with the others, but only Breanna is in a state where she’s able to see the figure. The whole party seems to be advocating killing their follower, but Harold stays his hand.
    “Let’s not just jump to conclusions about killing them out of hand.” – Harold, not wanting to become known as the Order of the Murder-Hobo. Surprising really, considering his usual temperament.

    “Whoever it is, it’s keeping up with us, right? What if I jumped off and hid in the bushes and followed whoever it is?” – Tremor, thinking deeply.

    “Well, I think she’d be better for it than you.” – Harold, pointing at Breanna.
    “Or even him.” – Maebh at Kel’Serrar.
    “Actually, I think Breanna could do it better than I could.” – Kel’Serrar, shaking his head.
    “No I couldn’t! I’m just shorter, why couldn’t you just bend down!?” – Breanna, realising it’s a dangerous situation and trying her best to avoid it.
    “Well, I can hide, but she can turn invisible.” – Kel’Serrar, making his case.
    “Technically I don’t turn invisible…” – Breanna.
    “Still better than what we’ve got.” – Maebh.
    “Bugger.” – Breanna.

    Breanna is still bitter about her wake-up call, despite the fact that she came out of it smelling like roses.

    “After being so rudely asked to do this, I’ll leap off the side and hide in the bushes on the side of the road.” – LD.
    “Can you not jump? Could you maybe… slither?” – Wings, tentatively.
    She calms down after a bit.
    “Fine, I’ll use Shadowskin before I leap off the cart.”

    Breanna tenses slightly as she calls up the daemonic entity, getting a good hold on it and starts to drain its power. She then takes the energy and cloaks herself in shadow before sailing through the air drawing attention to herself with her arcing dive, a half-pike double twist with a squeeze of lime, and losing herself amongst the thick undergrowth alongside the road.

    She lies in wait as the wagon trundles on towards the overturned carriage. After almost fifteen minutes of waiting, the Leathe can see their follower. She is a tall, young, slender woman with long brown wavy hair and dark eyes. She is wearing a dark red tunic and tall leather boots. She appears unarmed, but it would be folly to walk out on the roads without any protection. She also bears a long, pale scar running down the side of her neck.

    As an aside, through the whole description, Ladyhawk is telling the party to, “Kill it.”

    As the woman passes Breanna’s hiding place, the Leathe can see that she is definitely following the cart, looking at the tracks the cart and its heavy load have pressed into the roadway. Breanna’s lucky she is so light and the ground so hard-packed that she didn’t leave any readily apparent traces of her passage. Seeing this, the Leathe decides to follow the woman, daggers held ready in her hands.

    Almost an hour after Breanna left them, the rest of the party comes across the place where the carriage careened off the road weeks ago. They quickly discuss whether they should blaze a trail and take the wagon with them, or if they should leave it behind, in which case it might be stolen or ruined.

    In the end, Maebh unhitches the horse and takes the shield out of the cart, slinging it over her back. Everyone grabs their equipment and supplies, Tremor grabbing Breanna’s and Harold taking her marcwolf pup, before overturning the wagon on the side of the road.

    The party then follows the trail which has changed only little since they passed it last, heading towards the overturned carriage, and then past it and onwards to the old marcwolf cave they sheltered in several nights before. The plan is to leave the horse and marcwolves there and set up camp before Harold and Maebh head back to pick up Breanna.
    They don’t end up leaving the animals in the cave, but instead take them with them.

    Meanwhile Breanna watches as her quarry stalks along the road ahead, eventually coming across the overturned wagon. The Leathe watches as the tall woman bends down to inspect underneath the cart, probably checking if there is anything in it. Knowing that her Shadowskin has already been in use for almost an hour, she uses the last of the daemon's energy to renew her spell.

    "Ummm, uh... Can I ask how tall she is right now?" - LD, pondering her next move.
    "Her head is at a lower height than yours at the moment." - Me.
    "Awesome! Then I'm gonna go slit her throat!" - LD, cheerful.
    "WHY!?" - Dev, in agony.
    "Well then, maybe, YOU should have gone and hid. You didn't think this through at all did you?" - LD, unrepentant.
    "Ah, well, she'll probably miss anyway." - Dev.
    "64!" - LD, happily, still getting the hang of the idea of rolling low to succeed....

    The Leathe assassin glides across the ground like a dull grey ghost, silent as the grave, knife at the ready, but at the last her strike goes wide, the woman's shoulder raising accidentally as the Leathe moves in for the kill. Breanna's forearm slams into the red-clad woman’s shoulder, who instinctively rises to her feet, pushing backwards into her invisible assailant. Breanna stumbles back, and darts away into the bushes again, hiding from her target.

    The woman, looking around frantically, draws a longknife which she holds in an icepick grip and scans the deepening shadows under the forest canopy for her assailant.

    Still shrouded in shadow, Breanna waits for about a quarter of an hour before taking up her trusty carving knife. Hefting the small but heavy blade, the Leathe flips it in her hand so she is holding the blade before running up to her target and swinging the hilt with all of her might into the back of the woman's head.

    LD takes her first Strength Check to knock the woman out and rolls an 89 failing by sixty-two. Luckily she picked up the Sturdy Trait thanks to her punctual interview, allowing her to re-roll a single Strength or Toughness Checks every day. She rolled again and this time scored a 16, passing by eleven.

    The woman in red sinks to the ground with the solid hit, thoroughly unconscious.

    Seeing this, Breanna snatches the longknife from the woman’s fingers and darts down the trail in an attempt to chase down her companions, catching up to them in a matter of minutes.

    “Harold, I need you to come pick up a body.” – Breanna’s disembodied voice. “Oh right, wait a second.”
    She dismisses the Shadowskin.
    "I need you to follow me and come pick up this unconscious body.” – Breanna.
    “Okay, everyone, I’m going to follow Breanna. We’ll meet you at the cave. Oh, and Kel’Serrar, can I please borrow some rope?” – Harold.
    “Only if I have to give it to you.” – Kel’Serrar, grudgingly handing over his rope.
    “Thank you. You are a valued member of the team.” – Harold, sort of sarcastic. We think.

    The two of them head back to the unconscious woman, Harold still using his staff to keep moving easily. Within ten minutes they come upon the woman who was following them, still sprawled where Breanna’s strike put her down. Harold quickly ties her hands together behind her back, slings her over his shoulder and carries her onwards to the cave, the whole party back together again.

    More to come. It just happens to be here.
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-10-17 at 09:46 AM.

  15. - Top - End - #45
    Bugbear in the Playground
    ReaderAt2046's Avatar

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

    "cute, slavering ferocity"-very funny.

    And maybe I've just read too much ASOIAF recently, but I'm sure the Red Woman was supposed to be an important and powerful ally. Me thinks the party might be in trouble now...
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

    Lego Ergo Sum

    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

    Warhammer 40K: Where the faction that is a cross between the Inquisition and Space Nazis are the good guys.

  16. - Top - End - #46
    Dwarf in the Playground

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    Queensland, Australia

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

    Here it is.

    Once there, the Invarrian takes some rope and lashes the unconscious woman in a sitting position against a large boulder, specifically facing a direction in which she cannot see the horribly mangled corpse Maebh strung up into the trees almost a week ago. He then takes out his drinking bowl.

    “Can I get some water in this please?” – Harold, to Maebh.
    Silently, the Danann mage sends some water trickling out her hands and into the drinking utensil.

    Taking the now full bowl, Harold walks over to the tied up woman and splashes it on her face, drenching her upper body. She wakes up spluttering, scared and obviously with a massive headache.

    Dev considers asking the rest of the group to leave the immediate area here.
    “Well, we’re not interrogating her.” – Harold.
    “What are you going to do then?” – Maebh.
    “Uh, I was thinking charming her.” – Harold.
    Everyone cracks up.
    “OH FOR THE LOVE OF CRAP!” – Harold, exasperated.
    “I’ll get the bandages….” – Kel’Serrar, resigned.
    “You’ve tied her to a boulder, how charming could you possibly be?”
    “I want to hear this played out actually.” – Sins.

    The others back off a small distance, but all of them are within earshot and Kel’Serrar has an arrow nocked and ready.

    “I am sorry about my associate knocking you out. I had no choice in the matter. What’s your name?” – Harold, putting on his best ‘I’m a sweet, lovable dog-man, not a vicious killer,’ voice.

    “Can you let me go first?” – Red-clad woman, eyes darting from side to side.
    Slowly, steadily so as not to startle her, the Invarrian reaches across and unties the ropes. Despite this, he is still somewhat wary, hand on the hilt of one of his swords.

    “My name is Dhara.” – Dhara, smiling with just a little more goodwill than before.

    A Southlander name.

    “So why were you following us Dhara?” – Harold, gently.
    “Oh, I saw you in Summer Hill and thought there was something suspicious about the Harvest Wolf. I saw your performance there yesterday and I realised that we were on the same side. So I wanted to come and meet with you, share information and find out what you know about this business.” – Dhara, earnestly.

    “Well, why don’t you tell us what you know first, and then we’ll tell you?” – Harold.
    “Well, I’m afraid I really don’t know that much. I’ve only recently found an interesting correlation between Morgaris Shylocke and Petyr Rangard. I think they might be working together on something which bodes ill for Summer Hill.” – Dhara.

    “Hmm, now that adds up with why Rangard would want that Focus Stone. I mean, they are trying to summon a giant daemon, a Focus Stone would help.” – Kel’Serrar.

    “This is true.” – Harold, to Kel’Serrar. He turns back to Dhara. “We were actually hired by Rangard. Unfortunately, we are not sure what is actually happening, but for now we’re just trying to get some information. There is a bandit camp in the area. We’re trying to find it.”

    “Ah yes, I know of this bandit camp. A notice was actually put up in the area about a month ago, warning the town as a whole that bandits were in the area. They should be just to north-west of here.” – Dhara, nodding. She’s trying to helpful.

    “Breanna, I believe you have her knife.” – Harold, holding his hand out expectantly. Breanna hands it over. Holding the blade of the longknife in his hand, the Invarrian offers the woman back her knife.

    “Why thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again when I woke up without it.” – Dhara, sheathing the blade in the scabbard down her leg.

    “You’re coming with us to the bandit camp. I think we’d all appreciate it if you would watch our backs for us.” – Harold, using his staff to push back to his feet.
    “That’s good, I’m happy to help. I have a feeling you’re all working towards the good of Summer Hill.” – Dhara, also getting to her feet, a little unsteady due to the headache.
    “Okay, we’re moving out.” – Harold, to the rest of the party.

    The group heads out in a north-west direction, pushing out into the wilds in the vague direction of the bandit camp they know is out there. After some time, Tremor heads off further to the west, thinking to flank the camp. Before he leaves, Harold hands him one of his shortswords.

    As they walk, Breanna approaches Dhara.
    “You know, I’m really sorry you got mugged by that really weird Leathe guy who just showed up told me I could have his knife. When I asked where he got it from, he said from an unconscious girl down the road.” – Breanna, failing her Deception Check.

    “No that’s okay, I know why you had to do it.” – Dhara smiling, though rubbing the back of her head.
    “How did you know it was me!?” – Breanna, indignant.

    Tremor, by himself, is as wary as he can be, scanning the treeline. He is rewarded for his efforts when he spies a flet in the branches of a tall tree. He knows from experience that this platform would be manned by two sentries as part of the picketline. He looks around for a way further in without alerting the camp, but he finds nothing.

    Meanwhile, the rest of the group spots another flet in the tress ahead of them, even in the failing light. Breanna’s keen eyes strain, but as far as she can tell, no one is standing on it.

    “Hmm, so you guys can’t see anyone up there?” – Harold.
    “No.” – Kel’Serrar and Breanna.
    “Okay then, go up there and kill them without them knowing you were here.” – Harold, to Breanna.
    She struggles with a daemon and puts her Shadowskin back on while Harold unclasps his cuirass and hides it behind a tree, thinking to allow him to walk a bit quieter.

    Breanna, sneaking through the undergrowth, scales the tree silently, a dark and deadly ghost. She clambers up onto the flet and looks around wildly, daggers held at the ready.

    There is no one there.

    “Roughly what time is it?” – Sins.
    “About six in the evening.”
    “THEY’RE ALL ASLEEP!” – Wings. The way he said it was hilarious. Might be one of those things you have to be there for.

    From her new vantage point, Breanna looks around and can see a few more flets up in the trees, but none of them appear to be in use.

    A passed Intelligence Check from Breanna confirms that she knows that the setup of flets is a picket line. But only Kel’Serrar picks up that this is an unusual level of organisation for a woodland bandit camp.

    “We should probably all be together for this.” – Harold, quietly. Kel’Serrar nods in agreement.
    “I’ll get Tremor then.” – Kel’Serrar, who slinks off into the undergrowth to find the engineer.

    Tremor, hunkered down and watching the flet he found, finds Kel’Serrar materialising out of the undergrowth to his right. After a short, relatively cordial discussion, Tremor and Kel’Serrar head back to the rest of the group to find out what Harold wants him for.

    While Kel’Serrar’s finding the dwarf, Harold silently beckons Breanna down.

    “What’s the situation Breanna?” – Harold.
    “There’s absolutely nothing up there. I could see quite a few platforms, but nothing on them. No people, no weapons, nothing. They must all be asleep or something.” – Breanna.

    Taking a deep whiff of the air, Harold finds that he can’t seem to pick up any smells which would indicate recent habitation. It looks as if the bandits have moved on.

    But there is one smell which does stand out, faint, but definitely there.

    I ask Harold to make an Intelligence Check to see if he can put it all together.
    “Oh good, I have a good Intelligence score!” – Dev, happily.
    Snickers erupt from the group.
    “It’s true, I do!” – Dev, indignant.
    “What is it then?” – Sins.
    “42.” – Dev.
    “Wow.” – Wings.
    “How….. Are YOU smarter than ME!?” – LD.
    To put it in perspective, Maebh’s is the second highest on 36. Tremor’s is still mid-twenties, but he is a level below the others. Breanna has no such excuse.

    Suddenly Harold’s mind clicks the pieces of the puzzle together. It’s a Danann scent, but it’s neither of the two he’s been travelling with. This scent is too raw and strong. This is a different smell of death and decay.

    As Kel’Serrar and Tremor appear from amongst the trees, the Invarrian prepares to move.
    “I want you to stay here please. We’ll come back for you, but this could be dangerous.” – Harold, to Dhara. She nods in reply and silently takes the horse’s guide-rope from Maebh.
    Waving the party onwards silently, Harold leads the way along the overgrown woodland track, quietly sneaking past a few more abandoned flets. After a few minutes of this, they reach a clearing.

    The centre of the clearing is a blackened circle, roughly six feet across, ringed with stones and filled with ash a charred wood. It would seem to be a rudimentary fire pit. Kel’Serrar walks over to it and surmises it hasn’t been used in at least a week.

    There are several bare patches in the grass on the ground where it is likely tents were pitched, but they are gone now.

    Aside from those patches and the fire pit, there is nothing in the clearing which suggests habitation, no signs of life in the immediate vicinity.
    “Let’s look for tracks, shall we?” – Tremor, rubbing his hands together.

    After a short time, they find some old, faint human-ish tracks, milling around. Maebh is particularly lucky, noting a large and very strange paw-print.
    “Aww no, not another marcwolf!” – Dev.
    “Actually, this is bigger than the average marcwolf’s print….” – Ominously…..
    “Oh crap, a grizzly bear!” – Dev….

    The party clusters around the print, but none of them can identify the creature. From the facing of the print, it appears to be heading in an approximately southerly direction. Worryingly, the most recent human tracks all seem to be going in the same direction, a beeline straight for the road.

    “Maybe we should get Dhara. You never know, she did follow us, she might be good at this sort of thing.” – Tremor.
    Admittedly, there is a big difference between following a few minutes behind a loud, noisy group of adventurers in a cart in the middle of the day and following faint, week-old tracks in the undergrowth, but at least he was being logical.
    “Fair enough. I’ll go see if she will have a look.” – Harold, nodding in agreement.
    Harold heads back to the first flet to go get her.

    He fetches her, even in the fading light and brings her back to the clearing. Harold shows her Maebh’s paw-print and even in the darkness can see by the widening of her eyes that she has some sort of recognition.
    “I’m not seeing much here.” – Dhara, shrugging ruefully.
    “She lied, kill her.” – Ladyhawk.

    “Well… Let’s see if there’s any clues to be found back in that cave.” – Harold.
    He takes Maebh and Dhara with him, probably not thinking it safe to leave Dhara unsupervised.

    Meanwhile the others keep looking around the abandoned campsite, but by now the light is failing and they can’t find anything of use. Tremor swiftly gives up on that and instead looks for herbs and other plants to harvest, thinking to start up an alchemy/apothecary business on the side once he can settle down a bit.

    Having climbed into the nearest flet to the clearing, Kel’Serrar peers down at the ground with his keen eyes. While he finds nothing in terms of physical evidence, his predator senses tell him that there is some sort of pattern and control to the chaotic mass of tracks. He sits back against the tree, eyes closed, and ponders the nature of this chaos.

    Meanwhile, Harold, Maebh and Dhara are walking back to the cave. Scanning the ground, Maebh notices a single trail of human tracks leading directly into the cave, fairly fresh and light. As far as Maebh can tell, whatever made this did so within the last two days.

    As it is quite dark now, Harold asks Maebh to go hunting to get some dinner. While she does so, he gathers up some dry wood to serve as fuel for a fire. Dhara meanwhile just looks lost, staring up into the trees at something. It takes a while for Maebh to remember that she had strung a flayed man in those very branches just a week prior.

    While all this is happening, Tremor gathers up some wood of his own and starts a fire in the abandoned fire pit while Breanna gathers up some berries and other fruits of the forest. Kel’Serrar meanwhile continues to ponder.
    “I’m just going to do all the important stuff. You know, start a fire, go to sleep, wash clothes…. I don’t think I got the order right.” – Tremor, to much laughter.

    It takes him a while, but Kel’Serrar actually thinks he recognises the pattern. His mind takes him back to some years ago, another bandit camp and a certain escapade with an old companion.
    “Oh no….” – Sins.
    He can tell from the movement of the prey in this instance that this is the hallmark of a predatory tactic he and Chirya worked on together. However, it would only work with more than one hunter, leaving him with a disturbing thought.

    She had replaced him.

    And on his way back down the tree, he sees the proof he didn’t need for himself, but for the others. In the elegant script of the Danann Cainte, the letter ‘C.’

    Harold on the other hand, for some reason, not wanting to go into the cave anymore, starts to head back along the forest trail, bundle of sticks in hand with Dhara and Maebh with a brace of dead rabbits alongside him.

    From their right, echoing menacingly through the shadow shrouded woodland comes a deep, rumbling growl.
    "Oh lovely." - Ladyhawk.
    Maebh immediately turns to her right, peering into the gloom while Dhara positions herself so that Harold stands between her and whatever is in the undergrowth.

    "Keep moving, but slowly. And keep an eye out." - Harold, under his breath.
    As soon as he takes his first step, an arrow whistles out of the night, brushing so close to the side of his face he feels a slight tingle from its passage. It embeds itself in the trunk of a tree behind him.

    Only his sudden sideways movement saved his life.

    "RUN!" - Harold, bellowing to the others and dropping his bundle of firewood.
    Together, they bolt back to the camp along the trail.
    Behind them, they hear a terrifying, thunderous roar. It is so loud that even the rest of the party in the clearing can hear it, causing both Kel'Serrar and Breanna to hide, one in a little more panic than the other. And it wasn't Breanna keeping calm.

    Meawhile, Maebh has started to pull ahead of both Harold and Dhara, the Invarrian due to his injury and the Southlander due to simple anatomy. The Danann has longer legs and a predator's body, built like a wolf.

    Tremor stands behind a tree, borrowed shortsword clenched tightly as he prepares to attack whatever his chasing the rest of the party. Obviously Wings hasn't realised that selfless acts are thinly spread in this group.

    Breanna meanwhile is hiding in amongst a large clump of berry bushes, nervously eating as she waits to see what is coming down the path. Kel'Serrar stands in his flet from earlier, pressed against the tree and trusting his cloak and the shadows. Looking down the path, Maebh can be seen, running full-pelt towards the fire. She reaches it and turns around, purple threads of magic crackling to life in her hands as she readies herself to face off against whatever was chasing them. As she does so, she can see Harold and Dhara pass Tremor's hiding place almost simultaneously, the Invarrian hobbling now after his initial burst of speed, his injuries having re-opened (again). She also sees Tremor with his sword, standing ready with his back against the tree.

    Tremor's heart is racing. He knows that whatever comes down this path next will be the beast that loosed that monstrous roar. He is ready. To fight or to die.

    But nothing happens. Silence surrounds them, broken only by the crackle of fire and their ragged breathing.

    Hunched over, fighting back a scream of agony, Harold draws his other shortsword over his shoulder and offers it to the slightly built Southlander beside him. She nods her thanks, takes the blade and draws her own dagger with her other hand, her back to the fire. Harold meanwhile, gasps with pain and slowly, carefully draws forth his sabre. It's edge is pitted he has neglected it over the past few days, but it is the best weapon he has. He too stares down the trail, waiting for the monster that was so close to them only moments before.

    And then the debate about the pronunciation of dance and nectarine came up again and totally screwed over any tension I had worked hard to develop. Ah well.

    Kel'Serrar takes an arrow from his quiver and quietly nocks it to his bow, hoping to remain in hiding.

    "Kel'Serrar, do you have any idea what that was!?" - Harold, breaking the silence with his ear-splitting shout.
    Kel'Serrar rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer, not wanting to give away his position.
    The echo of Harold's shout fades away in the forest and he thinks better of trying to yell out again.

    A little bit of discussion about Tremor's background when Wings asks if there's any chance the dwarf has heard of anything like this in his travels. We decided that where Tremor could well have travelled extensively up in the north, there is very little likelihood that he would know very much about the southern lands.

    Harold takes a very deep whiff and recognises the smell. Death, decay, wet fur.... He's smelt this before, in the wagon on the way back to Summer Hill, but he was never able to place it.

    Where she lies in wait in the bushes, Breanna hears quiet rustling from the undergrowth behind her. And then a low, resonating growl.

    Breanna, calling on her magic tries desperately to get her message across without giving away her position. In her haste she loses control of the magic, and suddenly, her fingernails turn black and many of her blood vessels burst. She whimpers quietly in pain, but stifles it swiftly. Sadly, Phantom Noise is not able to deliver anything but two word messages.

    The words "CHECK FRUIT!" echo around the clearing in a shrieking, keening tone, one which the party immediately recognises as their Leathe companion in a great deal of anxiety. However the meaning of the phrase is lost on them.... Except Tremor.

    And we left it there....

    The Wrap-Up:
    Sorry that took so long to do, I was really struggling to find time to do it. So once again, 1:06 in the morning and I have university tomorrow morning.

    Not much of a wrap-up this time round, but I can say that the next session is scheduled for the 26th of April, which might just give me enough time to get material sorted out for them. And maybe finish the Engineer advance options.

    Cheers and thanks for reading,

  17. - Top - End - #47
    Bugbear in the Playground
    ReaderAt2046's Avatar

    Join Date
    Oct 2012

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

    Well, we still haven't really seen "Dhara" in action, but at least she seems to be roughly on the party's side. I wonder if we're about to meet Mab's old boyfriend? (Might be a nice therapeutic way for you and Ladyhawk to act out any annoyances you might have with each other).

    And on the topic of the magic penalties: owie!
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

    Lego Ergo Sum

    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

    Warhammer 40K: Where the faction that is a cross between the Inquisition and Space Nazis are the good guys.

  18. - Top - End - #48
    Dwarf in the Playground

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    Queensland, Australia

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

    Well I have to say that I don't think Ladyhawk and I have any problems, so luckily we don't need that at the moment. That being said, it's a nice idea. So if the day comes where we do have problems like that, I know what my backup plan is. :P


  19. - Top - End - #49
    Ettin in the Playground
    Amidus Drexel's Avatar

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

    Interesting. I like this.

    I have to agree with Ladyhawk, though; killing people that are suspicious is the safest route. It's hard to be betrayed by a dead person.

    "Check Fruit", huh? Hrm... I've got no idea.
    RB: IC || OOC

    PbP Characters: Remiel, Alexander

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    A few odds and ends.

  20. - Top - End - #50
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Default Re: Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword: A Norbayne Campaign Log

    Quote Originally Posted by Amidus Drexel View Post
    Interesting. I like this.

    I have to agree with Ladyhawk, though; killing people that are suspicious is the safest route. It's hard to be betrayed by a dead person.
    Yeah, but it's also hard to be saved by a dead person.

    BTW, Phoenix, will the meaning of the campaign title ever become significant? Or rather, are we supposed to be able to know what it means?
    Prince Fraternal of Pudding, Snuzzlepal, Feezy Squeez Lover, MP, Member of The Most Noble And Ancient Order Of St. George, King of Gae Parabolae.

    Lego Ergo Sum

    "Everyone's cute if you just look at them the right way"~Rebekah Patton Durham, Princess of Pudding.

    "If they have stats, we can kill them... I'd like to point out that we also have stats..." ~ PhoenixGuard09.

    Warhammer 40K: Where the faction that is a cross between the Inquisition and Space Nazis are the good guys.

  21. - Top - End - #51
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    I have told the players that at least one part of the overall campaign title has been revealed, but intriguingly, not the important ones. But yes, the title is relevant.

  22. - Top - End - #52
    Firbolg in the Playground
    Mewtarthio's Avatar

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

    Quote Originally Posted by Amidus Drexel View Post
    "Check Fruit", huh? Hrm... I've got no idea.
    "Investigate the berry bushes"?
    Quote Originally Posted by Winterwind View Post
    Mewtarthio, you have scared my brain into hiding, a trembling, broken shadow of a thing, cowering somewhere in the soothing darkness and singing nursery rhymes in the hope of obscuring the Lovecraftian facts you so boldly brought into daylight.

  23. - Top - End - #53
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    I bring good news. Wings hopes to have his background finished by Friday's session and due to a quirk in respective timetables, may well be bringing along a sixth player.

    We shall see. keep your fingers crossed,

  24. - Top - End - #54
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Great to see GitP is back, I've been frantically checking on it for days now.

    We did play on the 26th, a good 4 and a bit hour session in all, though we ended up with neither Wings' background, nor the extra player.

    On the other hand, 1.6 was definitively played.

    Next time in Three Coins:
    An unseen menace is thwarted, though not without sacrifice, much frantic healing is undertaken and several clues are found through the looking glass of a dwarven-shaped hole in the door.

    We are hoping to have the next session on the 10th, a somewhat shorter break than usual as several players have suggested that the current format is not frequent enough.


  25. - Top - End - #55
    Ogre in the Playground
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    May 2011

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

    Quote Originally Posted by Phoenixguard09 View Post
    Great to see GitP is back, I've been frantically checking on it for days now.

    We did play on the 26th, a good 4 and a bit hour session in all, though we ended up with neither Wings' background, nor the extra player.

    On the other hand, 1.6 was definitively played.

    Next time in Three Coins:
    An unseen menace is thwarted, though not without sacrifice, much frantic healing is undertaken and several clues are found through the looking glass of a dwarven-shaped hole in the door.

    We are hoping to have the next session on the 10th, a somewhat shorter break than usual as several players have suggested that the current format is not frequent enough.

    Good to see this is still going! can't belive I didn't read it before!

    Also, you weren't the only ne perturbed by this site's absence.
    Can't write. Can't plan. Can draw a little.
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    "In his free time, he gates in Balors just so he can kill and eat them later!"

  26. - Top - End - #56
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Yep, we're still going strong, though I do believe that we will be getting close to the end of the current arc pretty soon.

    After that Dev will almost certainly be running a Norbayne game with more or less the same group.
    We might lose Lady Darkmoon for that one. Dev really wants an evil game, so as her brother I am concerned it might be too dark for her. Although it has been pointed out to me that she's more sadistic than all of us. Combined.

    Depending on what we decide, we might play Three Coins' second arc simultaneously, alternating with Dev's, or we might just play Dev's through and then get back to Three Coins. We shall see.

    But the whole group has expressed displeasure at the possibility this arc might not be followed by another, so I think we'll be around for a long while yet.

    Glad to see we've attracted another reader. Hope you find it entertaining mate.

  27. - Top - End - #57
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Just thought I'd give a quick update on the campaign.

    I am over halfway through the write-up but have found it impossible to finish at home with the distraction of Third Age Total War. I intend to do it at university, hopefully tomorrow because Wednesdays and Thursdays are a bit more hectic over there.

    We also intend to play Session 1.7 this Friday. Hopefully things will become more clear to everyone. Just waiting to hear from Wings regarding whether he can make it.

    Until then, cheers,

    EDIT* Almost finished. I hope to have the write-up available tonight.
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-05-06 at 09:09 PM.

  28. - Top - End - #58
    Dwarf in the Playground

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

    Session 2.3: And Now For Something Completely Different

    Welcome to Session 2.3 of Three Coins, Two Birds and a Gilded Sword.

    As we know, the party -

    “For the sake of the recording I’d like to point out that we all lost The Game and you just did too.” – Sins.


    As we know the part is being harassed by an, as yet, unseen bestial menace. Maebh, Harold and Dhara have been chased down the woodland path, sprinting as fast as they can to avoid both arrow and beast, before finally coming to a halt with backs to the blazing fire Tremor has built. The Dwergar himself stands with his back to a tree, borrowed blade at the ready, prepared to face down whatever was following the others.

    Kel’Serrar meanwhile stands up in his tree-top flet, scanning the darkness for movement, while Breanna huddles in the shadows of some fruit bushes.

    From behind her she hears a low, rumbling growl, prompting her to draw the attention of the party to where she hides.

    “CHECK FRUIT!” – Breanna’s piercing magical shriek.

    As so we come to Tremor, who alone of the party has the presence of mind to do anything about the Leathe’s cry.

    “What?” – Tremor, looking around the area, pondering what the voice could be asking of him. Effectively wasting his free action.

    Unfortunately for Breanna, the only person aware that the bushes actually contained fruit was Breanna herself. The others were all doing important things while she was stuffing her face with berries.

    The bushes explode with violence and a bone-rattling roar. Something goes for Breanna, something she can’t see in the darkness, but she is aware enough of its proximity that she is able to flip out of the way with exceptional ability.

    Some brilliant rolling here as Breanna not only sees the attacks coming with a Perception Check of 05, but dodges both with 05 and 03 respectively. This is in addition to her exceptional Dodge bonuses anyway.

    I then make a mistake. I tell LD that she did so well that she can tell me what that success results in. They spend over three minutes discussing the outcomes.

    “Someone who doesn’t usually succeeds and all of a sudden, we don’t know what to do!” – Sins.
    “This is so difficult, I didn’t think this through at all!” – LD
    “That’s fairly evident.” – Sins
    “Oh no, success is difficult!”

    In the end she just flips out of the bushes and into the cleared area.

    The sudden movement draws Kel’Serrar’s eye, who prepares a Flaming Arrow. After contemplating the situation for a moment, he draws back and literally fires, blazing a path through the bushes. In a recurring theme for Kel’Serrar, his blind-shot was effective, and a pained roar rings out through the bushland. Whatever he hit retreats further into the forest.

    “Any idea what that was Kel’Serrar?” – Maebh, slightly panicked.
    Unsurprisingly, the ranger does not respond.

    An angry shout is heard and a rain of arrows falls upon Maebh, Harold and Dhara, but the range and uncertain light mean that only one scrapes a gouge in Dhara’s calf and another slams into Maebh’s upper arm.

    “Give up the tree-girl and I might let the rest of you live!” – Feminine voice, followed by ominous laughter.
    “Give up the tree?” – Dev, confused.
    “Girl. Tree-girl. Me!” – LD, not confused.
    “Why would she want a possum?” – Wings.
    “Leathe are a delicacy to the Danann.” – Dev.
    “It’s a Danann is it?” – Ladyhawk.
    “Well, I smelt Danann earlier.” – Dev.
    “Actually you smelt death and decay. Don’t be racist about it!” – Sins.
    “Don’t give me away! I promise that when I die of natural causes I’ll let you both eat me!” – LD
    “… Damn… That’s a convincing argument.” – Sins.
    “I thought so.” – LD, with a laugh.

    “First question. Who the hell are you!?” – Maebh, shouting out to the darkness.
    “It doesn’t matter.” – Feminine voice, followed by more low, ominous, mocking laughter.

    “I think I’m going to send out a fireball as a bit of a warning shot. Kind of like, “Don’t mess with me bitch.” – Ladyhawk.
    “So this is a bit like a ‘Legolas-Gimli’ warning shot is it?”

    With a slight growl, Maebh lets go of her readied Bladewall and blazes a flaming trail into the bushes with a Flare. She is greeted with more mocking laughter.

    “Should have gone with a bigger ball of fire.” – Maebh, to herself.

    Tremor hefts his borrowed sword and runs into the undergrowth, thinking to loop around the hidden archer’s position. On the opposite side of the clearing, Kel’Serrar drops from his vantage point and sneaks around the northern edge himself, although this is less from a desire to find the archer, and more to get in a hidden position.

    Breanna, standing in the open, calls up a daemon and cloaks herself in shadows again, falling into the dark embrace with a feeling of optimistic familiarity. Maebh, still near the fire, clads her skin in golden magical plates, provided herself with some form of protection against stuff that wishes to hurt her.
    Sins used the opportunity to say ‘massive-bone-scythe-flaming-claws’ three times with considerable speed. He was commended on it, though I don’t think any of us really knows what made him think of it.

    Harold meanwhile, rips yet more cloth from his already tattered garments to bind the bleeding wound in Dhara’s leg. Maebh snickers at the obvious pain the woman is in, despite it being a rather small wound.

    Tremor, short legs stumping through the undergrowth feels a slight chill as he realises he doesn’t know where the archer is. And then three arrows spit out of the darkness at him. One flies over his shoulder, the archer obviously used to shooter taller opponents, however the other two thud into his chest. The first is mainly turned aside by the leather jerkin, however the other digs deep into the flesh. Tremor takes 7 Damage in all. Angered by this attack on him, the Dwergar snaps the arrow-shaft, tosses it into the bushes and continues his relentless forwards movement.

    Breanna too works her way into the bushes, seeing Tremor tracking his way through the undergrowth.

    This amused me because it demonstrated to me that the group actually was quite interested in the situation.
    “Okay, Perception Checks from Breanna and Kel’Serrar. Oh and Tremor too.”
    “Can I do it anyway?” – Ladyhawk.
    “Yeah sure, if you just want to roll some dice.”
    Dice are rolled.
    “Ah bugger.” – Wings, who failed.
    “Aww.” – LD, who had also failed.
    Various sounds of disappointment from the group as a whole.
    “So no passes?”
    “Ah! No, I passed with Danann Senses!” – Sins, going through his Traits and Talents.
    “Ooh, what does that do? +5% to Perception Checks? Then I passed too.” – Ladyhawk, happily.
    “I got a 03!” – Dev, also happily.

    With those passes and such enthusiasm for the game, where I literally sat for a minute as they worked out whether they had succeeded without asking me if they had or not, I realised that the group had finally grasped the system itself, which is a great moment as a game designer. So despite not originally intending to count Harold’s and Maebh’s attempts, I did provide them with some information too.

    Harold sniffs the air and can still smell rotting flesh and charred meat. Whatever the beast was earlier, it is still around.

    Maebh meanwhile, can hear rustling in the bushes as several things move around. People, beasts, friends or foes, she cannot tell, but the darkness behind the treeline hides much detail, even from her keen sight.

    Kel’Serrar looks ahead and can see ahead of him, a glint of metal in the moonlight. He assumes it must be an arrowhead. But crucially says nothing.

    Tremor, still charging headlong through the undergrowth never sees them coming. Three arrows, two of which slam into his chest once more, and another which hits him in the thigh. He ends up taking a total of 12 Damage. He falls over onto his back, choking on blood and soaking his beard in it. The rest of the group hear his shouts of pain and agony, and Kel’Serrar and Breanna are both near enough to help, but neither of them are very selfless. At all.

    Harold heads out towards the shout, heedless of the danger. He starts out trying to run, but eventually devolves into hobbling due to his earlier exertions.

    From the direction the arrows came from, Breanna finally sees their tormentor. A tall, painfully thin, almost ghost-like figure in the darkness, cloaked and wielding a recurve bow.

    “My early optimism of this fight has just gone down the tube!” – Dev.
    “So it’s gone right where it belongs, somewhere in the realm of standard.” – Sins.

    Breanna charges towards the figure and takes to her with the carving knife. And for the first time in memory, was actually successful. The excessively sharp blade slams into the archer’s leg.

    “Does she scream?” – Ladyhawk, sadistic.
    Small silence….
    “She’ll do well in my campaign.” – Dev.
    For those who don’t know, Dev is planning on running his own Norbayne campaign, probably once Three Coins is finished. The overall premise so far is, “You’re all evil and are completely focussed on obtaining power and ****.”

    And yes, there’s a yelp of pain. The archer attempts to backhand the Leathe’s face, but misses completely and runs.

    Maebh just laughs in a mocking manner, trying to provoke anger, just because she’s angry herself. Kel’Serrar meanwhile succeeds brilliantly when it comes to patching up Tremor, finding a few herbs in the immediate area which can be used to numb the pain. Tremor is stabilised and the bleeding is more or less stopped, but the dwarf is by no means feeling much better.

    They head back to the cart on the road, wanting desperately to get back to the town. Tremor is slung over the horse’s back, as he is certainly not in a position to be able to walk.

    Harold goes around and takes his swords back from both Dhara and Tremor, but neither of them are necessarily completely happy about it, although Tremor’s a bit too far gone to complain and Dhara realises her position is tenuous.

    Stressed out as they are, it takes the party a fair bit of time to get back to the main road, where their overturned wagon sits. Straining and struggling, Harold eventually manages to lift the cart, but in doing so opens up one of the more serious wounds he received against MacSilver. They also dump Tremor into the back of the cart.

    Dawn arrives while they are on the road and it is not until after midday after a sleepless night of travel that they head back through the gates of Summer Hill, somewhat worse for wear. For the first time since they’ve been in Summer Hill, there’s a watch set at the gate. The watchmen merely nod at the group, friendly enough, they don’t stop the party, but all the same, they have not been there before.

    “I blow them to shreds.” – Ladyhawk.
    “You nod at me? DIE!” – LD, sarcastic and to much laughter.
    “I’m sorry, I take that back. They seem nice.” – Ladyhawk.
    “She’s going to do REALLY well in my campaign.” – Dev.
    “You greeted me with friendliness? DIE! You dress up as a rabbit? DIE!”

    Kel’Serrar finds his tree and sleeps in it, pondering the nature of this business and thinking over what he knows of Chirya.

    Harold and Tremor find someone who will patch up their injuries, staggering and half-dead as they are. The man they find usually sells ‘healing potions’ and the like, but he is capable of sewing up their wounds. Between the two of them, they pay thirty sulvers, which is twenty less than the original offer. Dhara excuses herself early to go find someone who can patch up her admittedly lesser injury.

    Now that he is capable of walking without assistance, Tremor goes looking for an animal breeder, someone who can sell him a creature which he can lavish attention on. He finds one bloke in the surrounding farmlands who breeds dogs for the whole area.
    “You really want to find Harold’s parents?” – Sins, cracking us all up. Even Dev found it amusing.
    Tremor has a look, but he’s really after something smaller and leaves empty-handed. He spends the next hour or so running through the forest trying to find a “weird and unnatural rodent” to make a pet of. After some time he eventually finds a clearing with a small herd of about ten capail (Propaleotherium), but his sudden movement startles them and they bugger off soon enough. Eventually he ventures back to town, disappointed, but at the same time inspired. After all, why make friends if he can literally make friends….

    Harold meanwhile goes to the market district, obtaining new clothes and getting the nicks and chips in his swords fixed up. After that he gets his armour fixed up too, depositing his cuirass and hauberk. He waits in the Harvest Wolf for the armourers and weapon-smiths to finish their work, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be suspicious. He is to be disappointed and leaves.

    Breanna finds an inn where she hopes to obtain some food. She eventually ends up at the Iron Moon, whose barkeep doesn’t approve of dogs. He is about to inform the Leathe as such as he looks up, but takes in her unnaturally bouncy, happy gait and assortment of knives and decides that it isn’t worth it. He turns back to wiping one of the tankards and takes her order, which is bread and ham, the latter of which she feeds to her marcwolf pup on the floor. Breanna, like most Black Magic users, gives off a distinct aura of wrongness. When added to her overly cheerful persona, it is VERY off-putting. The bartender knows that one moment she could be happily cutting her meat, the next, happily cutting his throat. And her marcwolf pup, which is now approaching sheltie size, is on hand to dispose of any evidence….

    Last time a marcwolf came in his tavern, this particular barkeep realized swiftly that disapproval of the pup would possibly result in his face being punched in. And therefore, he would not be touching it with a ten-foot pole, which for some reason happens to be standard-issue equipment for adventurers. What supermarket stocks ten-foot steel poles?

    After her afternoon tea, Breanna finds a nice shady tree and sits beneath it, playing with her marcwolf, quietly so as not to wake Kel’Serrar.

    Lastly, Maebh unhitches the horse from the wagon and leads it through the township, looking for someone who can patch her up, but her investigations lead her to an old dwelling at the edge of the town, owned by an interesting woman, Old Maggie. She is known for her skill in herblore and when she opens her door and sees the mage standing there looks very concerned and immediately brings her inside, applying salves with a great deal of skill and speed. Maebh immediately feels better as the medicine dulls the pain from the magical burns she forgot she was feeling.

    After applying the salve, the woman suggests Maebh rest and kindly offers her the bed. A few hours later, Maebh comes down and offers five sulvers, three of which Old Maggie eventually takes, leaving the other two.
    “Keep them, you’ll need them more than I.” – Old Maggie, cryptically.
    “Oh yay, crypticism!” – Dev, making words up again.
    After leaving Old Maggie, Maebh finds some craftsmen and obtains a saddle and tack for her horse. She then spends the rest of the afternoon getting the horse used to the riding gear.

    They rendezvous at the courtyard where they left the cart and Kel’Serrar, before deciding that visiting Rangard might be a good idea.
    “I’d like to point out that our little red-clad friend has not come back.” – Kel’Serrar, pointedly referring to Dhara.
    “Wait, what did we tell her?” – Breanna, worried.
    “Nothing too much, but she has bailed.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “Well, she hasn’t necessarily bailed.” – Harold.
    “She said she’d find a healer and meet up with us again. She’s not here and it’s been a whole afternoon.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “She’s bailed.” – Tremor.
    “Yeah, she’s bailed.” – Harold, conceding the point.

    While they’re discussing this, Rangard himself shows up, his many eyes having informed him of the party’s return.
    “So, how did you go?” – Rangard, referring to the investigation of the Harvest Wolf.
    “In a word, crap.” – Harold.
    “I have some news for you. I sent Meldith after your own assassin the other day when you went to the Harvest Wolf. She tells me that Shylocke was seen fleeing the premises. He must be working against us, though not necessarily with the actual cult itself. It might be worth having a look at his manse.” – Rangard, after laughing at Harold’s reply.
    “Thank you for the information, we’ll take it from here.” – Harold.
    Rangard nods his acquiescence and walks away.
    Ladyhawk suggest blowing him up as he walks off.

    Harold details a plan involving Breanna breaking into the back of the house with Kel’Serrar providing overwatch. Maebh, Harold and Tremor were going to hold Shylocke’s attentions, hopefully stopping him from noticing Breanna’s investigations.

    The whole thing just dissolved into laughter, despite the plan probably being rather good. And then they got pretty off-topic talking about coffee going up your nose, which amazingly fixes blocked noses with startling efficiency. Apparently it destroys your olfactory organs for a few days, but at least you can breathe.

    And then they went back on topic, but only for as long as it took to explain what had already been explained, namely that Breanna would be sneaking in before Geoff pointed out that the Mission Impossible theme music would fit. Ladyhawk countered with Pink Panther’s, myself with Get Smart.

    Interestingly enough, this came up a bit later but when it was pointed out how similar the party dynamic is compared to OotS, Ladyhawk informed me that she saw a girl in her lecture reading either Start of Darkness or Origin of PC’s. They hi-fived.

    “Would there be any people in there?” – Breanna, wondering just how sneaky she’ll need to be.
    “I’d say yes.” – Harold.
    ‘There’d be servants. He’s wealthy.” – Kel’Serrar.

    Harold goes in search of a beggar in a back-alley. Maebh just happens to go along with him. Before they go, Breanna stops the Invarrian and flips him three sulvers to give to the beggars as payment. After a moment’s delay, she tags along anyway.

    Kel’Serrar goes off to scout out the target’s house, looking around and figuring out the general layout of the manse, while staying inconspicuous. He finds the place in the Merchant District. The manse is quite large, of similar scale or even larger than Rangard’s, two stories and constructed of wood. The second story is considerably smaller than the ground level, probably only one room. He can see there are two large closed and obscured by curtains dominating the front of the house. It seems that the place is empty at the moment.

    The street is also deserted, the time being such that everyone is enjoying their evening meals, either inside their own houses or out in the town proper. Thus it is easy for Kel’Serrar to remain unnoticed. He also finds two good vantage points, one on the roof of the dwelling on one side, the other at the window of the second story house on the other side, which would probably require breaking into the house.

    Tremor meanwhile has obviously been affected by his recent near-death experience and walks down into the Merchant District himself. He too finds Shylocke’s house and knocks on the door.

    Harold finds himself a beggar, huddling in destitute poverty. The man looks up at the Invarrian and Harold can detect a glint of both anger and fear in his eyes. Harold takes one of Breanna’s sulvers and flicks it over his fingers.
    “There’s a sulver in it for you if I can get some information.” – Harold, trying to barter.
    “What do you want from me, dog?” – Beggar, and not in the Randy Jackson meaning of the term. At least I think its Randy Jackson. The bloke from American Idol. I don’t know, I don’t watch television much.
    “Anything you might know about Morgaris Shylocke.” – Harold.
    “What do you think I’d know about him?” – Beggar.
    “Anything you little twerp.” – Maebh, over Harold’s shoulder, sitting astride her horse. She had moved up beside him while the Invarrian was talking.
    “Shh.” – Harold, before turning back to the beggar. “Beggar’s eyes are everywhere.”
    “What are you trying to say?” – Beggar, getting angry again.
    “That you know things most-“ – Harold, placating.
    “Do I look like a beggar to you!?” – Beggar, very angry.
    “Yes…” – Harold, slightly amused.
    The beggar hunkers down where he has made his own little dwelling in this little alley and refuses to give any further information.
    “My turn.” – Maebh, dismounting. Harold shrugs, turns and walks away.
    The mage picks the man up by the throat and shoves him up against the wall. The wiry Danann is easily strong enough to do so, not letting the squirming man loose. In her other hand she calls up a tongue of flame and holds it up to the beggar’s face.
    “Now you should answer the questions my friend just asked you. Because I want to know too.” – Maebh, intimidating.
    “He didn’t ask me anything!” – Beggar, thoroughly scared.
    “I burn him.” – Ladyhawk. And it’s official, Maebh just took a dive into the deep-end of the alignment pool. If Norbayne had one.
    The Danann presses the flame into his cheek and revels in the scent of burning flesh and his screams of pain.
    “Honestly! He just wanted information on Shylocke! The merchant!” – Beggar, through agonised shrieks.
    “Oh right. Sorry about that.” – Maebh, taking the flame away, and at least having the decency to look sort of apologetic.
    “Now tell me everything.” – Maebh.
    The beggar says straight out that he finds it unbelievable that they ask about pretty much the richest man in town and expect just about the poorest to know everything about him, but he gives what he can, scared of the wild-woman with her fire.

    He tells them that the merchant is unmarried and has a business rivalry with Rangard, one that has escalated since Rangard’s company became dominant in the region. Somewhat less of him has been seen in recent times too.

    Maebh sets him back on the ground and flicks him two coppers before mounting up and riding away.
    “I’ve given up on the beggars, with them being *******s.” – Dev.
    “And, I’m better at it than you.” – Ladyhawk, smug.
    “No, I was being nice.” – Dev, defensive.
    “It’s like good cop bad cop. Except your harassing defenceless beggars. You know, old men in cardboard boxes.”
    “It’s like bad cop, worse cop.” – Sins.
    “Hey I was offering him money if he’d help us.” – Dev, still defensive.
    “You’re a six foot tall dog man, armed to the teeth, standing over him in a dark alley and flicking coins at him.”
    “Heads you live, tails you die!” – Wings.

    The Invarrian, Leathe and Danann head off towards the manse, and as they arrive, they come to the realisation that something awful is happening….

    More to come....
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-10-17 at 09:47 AM.

  29. - Top - End - #59
    Dwarf in the Playground

    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    Queensland, Australia

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

    Told you so.

    Cut to Tremor, who is knocking on the door to Shylocke’s manse. Eventually it is opened by a servant, who looks out. And then down.
    “What?” – Servant, not appreciating this interruption to his servant duties.
    “Hi.” – Tremor, presumably about to say something more.
    The door is slammed in his face.
    “I don’t like him. I’m going to knock down the door.” – Wings.
    Tremor sets his boot to the door, but the sturdy wood resists his attempt to break through and he can hear an amused snort from the other side. So the Dwergar turns to other methods. He backs up onto the road and then charges at the door, using his body as a veritable compact battering ram, smashing a massive rent in the bottom half of the door, his momentum carrying him through into the greeting hallway. The servant, with a stunned look on his face, falls to the side against the wall. Tremor slaps him in the face.
    “That was extremely rude.” – Tremor, angry, yet eloquent.
    “Door…. Dwarf….” – Servant, dazed, confused and in no small amount of pain.

    Harold looks on as Tremor smashes through the door, bowing his head with the agony of it all.
    “Why must I be surrounded by idiots?” – Harold, bemoaning his luck.
    “That’s it, I’m casting Flare on him.” – Ladyhawk, with a laugh.
    “Which I block, because I am a badass.” – Dev.
    “Behold! TPK!” – Sins, as if reading from some kind of holy text.

    “Breanna, time to go around the back, there’s your distraction.” – Harold, trying to salvage the situation.

    Breanna starts trying to contribute her own plans here, though she seems not to have quite grasped that the point of the distraction was to get her inside and unnoticed, rather than her causing a distraction herself. I’ve condensed the whole thing because some tempers flared here and quite honestly it was just a bit of confusion because both of the girls have a tendency not to listen when the game doesn’t directly focus on them. Eventually LD accedes to Dev’s plan, mainly because Ladyhawk explained the whole thing without any violent remarks, something Dev finds difficult to do when no one listens to him. We moved on.

    “I pick up the servant and throw him at the others.” – Wings, inordinately proud of this plan.

    Picking up the stunned servant, Tremor grabs him the collar of his tunic and swings him around. Crucially, he lets go at the wrong moment and smashes the man head first into the wall of the hallway.

    As a side-note, the servant’s neck was broken in the attempt.
    “That’s it, I’m going in there and dragging him out by the hair.” – Ladyhawk.
    “NOT THE BEARD!” – Dev, channelling Gimli.
    “Uh, how will you do that? The door’s still closed and locked.” – Wings.
    “You think that’s going to stop me? Fireball!” – Ladyhawk.

    And to think that they were just going to send one person in to spy on the place. Now they’ve destroyed his front door, killed his servant and are contemplating setting fire to his house. Good one. Send him a message he will never forget.

    “Never have we lived up to our name more.” – Ladyhawk, in a wondering sort of tone.
    But she does go inside, to the wonderment of the three surviving servants who are not causing any alarm yet because of the sheer shock of having a dwarf and a Danann mage just suddenly burst through the front door.

    Breanna heads around the back and attempts to pick the lock of the door she finds. In her attempt, she unfortunately snaps the tip of her dagger.

    “She should just make a hole in the door. It seems to be the new fashion.” – Ladyhawk, to much laughter.
    “Yeah, except I’m so weak and frail, I might die.” – LD.
    “She’s so weak and frail, she almost broke her wrist trying to pick the lock.”

    Meanwhile, back in the hallway,

    “What just happened?” – First servant, starting to snap out of the daze.
    “Is his neck okay?” – Second servant.
    “I’ve never seen a man with his head growing out of his own arse before.” – Idea regarding the third servant’s line.

    I’ll use this point to describe the floor-plan.

    After busting through the door, the party find themselves standing in a long, dark hallway with three doors to the left and two to the right. On the walls there are lines of portraits which quick investigation will reveal are portraits of the Shylocke family line. In addition there is a tall flight of stairs at the end of the hall which leads to the living quarters on the second story.

    Resigning himself to the situation, Harold walks up to the front door, drawing his sabre and sighs as he realises he’s going to have to crawl.

    “I duck in-“ – Dev.
    “You’re going to have to crawl.” – Said with a smile.
    “Fine, I crawl in-“ – Dev.
    “Oh, good dog.” – Wings, the punch line for the joke we’d been setting up for at least ten minutes.

    Harold walks up to Tremor and smashes the basket hilt of his sabre into the back of the Dwergar’s head. Tremor stumbles forward, his rage abating in the face of the Invarrian punching him in the head.

    Still mad, but this time at a different target, Tremor bull-rushes the taller Invarrian, trying to grab him, but Harold manages to hold his ground. Wrestling together, neither notice what Maebh is doing.

    Before they realise it, they both feel a hard, sharp whack from her spear-haft, one cracking across Harold’s shoulders and the other smashing over Tremor’s head. They stumble apart from each other, Tremor leaning against the wall and nursing his head, which now hurts a LOT.

    Back outside, grabbing a rock off the ground, Breanna smashes a back window on her second attempt and climbs inside, finding herself in what she takes for the guest quarters, a large, three part room consisting of a study with a few books worth of reading material, a bedroom and a privy. The guest quarters look like they have not been used for a very long time, if at all.

    Breanna looks around and finds several books in the shelves which possess innocuous titles. Certainly nothing suspicious in terms of daemonic cults. So she walks out into the hallway behind the servants, sees the other members of her party, and walks up the staircase at the end of the hallway.

    Going up the stairs, Breanna finds herself facing a door. It is a considerable door, heavy and made of hardwood, featuring extensive carvings. It is likely very expensive.
    “I want to break it! Dwarven battering ram!” – Wings, to laughter.
    Breanna opens the door and deduces quickly that she has come across Shylocke’s personal quarters. A large marble fireplace sits against the west wall, the mantelpiece covered in small mementoes of past experiences, a thick pipe, several small portraits, a decanter of alcohol and a golden time-keeper. Along the other walls is an abundance of bookshelves, proving that he is an extensive reader, though many look as if they have not been removed from their housing in a long time.

    Back out in the hallway….
    “Would you mind stepping outside for just a few moments please?” – Maebh to the servants, trying to clear the place of innocent bystanders while the other two are not trying to kill each other.
    “Uh…. Yeah alright.” – Servants, before walking past the party carefully. After all tonight has gone from bizarre to freaking dangerous, and it can only get worse when the pissed off mage starts throwing fireballs around.
    “Good.” – Maebh, once the servants have left. “Let’s go.”
    And together, the three of them troop up the stairs to join Breanna.

    “Don’t break anything more in here, alright?” – Breanna, to the others.
    I thought this was really good of her to think of and I loved that she actually tried to impose a little authority on the group. On the other hand, it’s a bit late. Anyone coming after them could probably get a positive I.D from the dwarf-shaped hole in the door.

    Having walked into the room, another room can be seen through an access in the wall. A bed takes pride of place there, dark velvet and silk sheets, but aside from the opulent bed, the room is bare, save for the wooden drawers by the side of the bed.

    “Have a look in the bookshelves.” – Maebh, before heading over to one herself.
    “Particularly, the ones he’s read recently. The ones without dust on them. Let’s get an idea of what he’s been up to.” – Tremor, nursing his head. He’s going to have at least one lump there tomorrow.

    In all, they don’t find anything suspicious, thought they do find he has a strange fixation on crime mysteries.
    “Oh, I wonder why!?” – LD, seeing this as suspicious.
    “Because that’s what we should be doing, and we haven’t been.” – Sins, with a laugh, seeing right through my subtle hint.

    Breanna goes into the sleeping area and opens the drawers next to the bed. All she sees is a small stack of blank parchment. But with a bit of scrabbling, she quickly discovers a false bottom in one of the drawers, uncovering two letters.

    Quote Originally Posted by The First Letter

    On behalf of my lady wife, I implore you to move more swiftly in your progress.

    Quote Originally Posted by The Second Letter
    Guildmaster Shylocke,

    I know not your stance on these matters, but I have some business of importance to bring to your attention. Would you meet with me for repast at the Harvest Wolf on the morrow?

    With thanks,
    Baronet Edmond Carhold,
    The party is aware that Carhold is the Naillish ambassador in Summer Hill.

    Breanna takes the letters and reads them where she stands, while Tremor and Maebh continue searching through the bookshelves. Harold looks out the second story window and quickly spies out Kel’Serrar on the next door’s roof. He opens the window and calls over to the Danann.

    “Shoot the servants. I’ll explain later.” – Harold, talking only just loud enough the be heard.
    Kel’Serrar facepalms by way of response.
    “The feeling’s mutual!” – Harold.
    Nocking an arrow to his string, Kel’Serrar smashes it through the head of his first target, striking with such speed and precision that the ranger is able to send another shaft on its way before the other two notice. The second servant drops with an arrow through his head and the third finally realises what’s happening and bolts down the road, Kel’Serrar’s third arrow sailing wide. Correcting his aim, his fourth shot takes the man in the top of the leg and pitches him to the ground. He starts to stagger away and looks to be making some ground when Kel’Serrar plants one last arrow through the man’s shoulder and into his chest, killing him.

    That was some skilled shooting at some harmless guys. Maebh should be welcoming both Harold and Kel’Serrar into the deep end of the alignment pool around now.

    Tremor checks the fireplace for any hidden spaces and notices while fiddling around that both the pipe and alcohol decanter are both attached to one of the marble bricks which makes up the mantelpiece. Using the horn pipe, he lifts the block and finds that inside the block is a recess, within which is a small black book.

    “What did the letters say?” – Harold, to Breanna.
    She reads the first one to the party.
    “Hmm, our employer’s name is Rangard….” – Maebh, thinking suspiciously.

    Breanna reads the second letter to the party.
    “The meeting they’re talking about is probably the one we broke up.” – Tremor, pondering while flipping through his own find. “Oh wow, listen to this.”

    Quote Originally Posted by The Black Notebook
    He was brought before the Queen of Eagles by the Grand Master, who gave Him introduction to the knowledge of the Veil, may He be ever grateful. Her Wisdom gave unto Him great amounts of lustre. He must succeed in overthrowing that cursed upstart. The Hill of Summer needs one who is strong. He is that one.
    He met the Grand Master at noon this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The time is come.
    The Lord of the Gate sits high in his room, plotting to keep his charges awake in the cold. He must be removed, though He has not the resources.
    He met the Grand Master upon the twilight of this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The Seabear and the Wolfwhaile have been deprived of spark and the Wolfwhaile’s handler has been taken. The Woodwolf knows not where. The experiment has not succeeded and the Lord of Winter remains unconquered.
    He was to meet the Grand Master in the afternoon this day, for repast, may He be ever grateful. The Grand Master, in his wisdom, was late to the cup, and He was uncovered by a mite. He fled the scene with the Others in His wake and did sit and wander in the most noble of fashions.
    He did report the mite to the Lady, as the Grand Master was not to be seen. Her Ladyship has dispatched her Falcon to see the job done, a Falcon for the Lady of the Queen of Eagles.

    And then Dev, Wings and LD spent a VERY long time trying to figure out if there was a hidden message. Anything at all. I think perhaps they started out with just the capitals, but then it just devolved. Between them they put paid to four whole A4 pages, covering them all with notes.

    “You know Queen of Eagles, QE, Queen of Elspeth.” – Maebh.
    “Isn’t her name Esmerelda?” – Tremor.
    “And the symbol of Elspeth is an eagle.” – Breanna.
    “I hate riddles.” – Harold.

    The Elspeth’s sigil is a gold eagle on a dark grey field while Naille’s is a black and red robin on a dark green field. As the others know by now, these are the two birds.”

    Maebh is not having any more luck looking for evidence in the bookshelves, unable to find any false books, nor any false backs in the cabinets.

    “We should leave this room, go downstairs and check out the other rooms. I’m thinking there could be another book down there which explains this one.” – Breanna.
    “One second.” – Harold.
    While the others walk out of the master bedroom, Harold stays behind and checks the bed. Seeing that there is no space beneath the bed itself, he lifts the mattress and flings it up against a wall, ripping back the sheets and pillows. He has no luck finding anything, so he heads back out into the main room and drinks the alcohol in the decanter on the mantelpiece, finds it is a nice, strong whiskey, and then uses Shylocke’s privy.

    Maebh heads into the second door on the right from the staircase and finds herself in a long dining room with what seems to be considerably higher ceilings than the rest of the dwelling. The dining room is dominated by the long, richly varnished wooden table in the centre. Many chairs line the table, indicating that the owner is used to accommodating a large number of guests. There is a small fireplace against the east wall and doors to both the north and south, leading to the library and the kitchens respectively. Seeing that it is unlikely for there to be any clues in here, she heads through the northern door and into the library.

    The eyes are drawn firstly to the large window built into the front or northern wall of the house, which during the day, lets in a goodly amount of light. The library is a large room with several expensive and comfortable chairs strewn about and a fireplace in the corner. The room appears to have been constructed with the express purpose of accommodating several guests at a time. Bookshelves line the walls and there is a not inconsiderable number of books either within them or scattered around the room in various states of being read.

    Maebh once again finds herself searching through recently read books, trying to find something, anything suspicious. Unfortunately she finds very little in that regard, though there are plenty of interesting titles such as The Illustrated Stories of the Man Hunter, The Biography of Brodor Mhorshield and The Complete Handbook of Etiquette. As can be seen, he has such erratic reading tastes that nothing really stands out as bizarre. He appears nothing more than a bored man with lots of money.
    At some point here they try to make me write out a large religious tract and its eighteen subsidiary texts, detailing the Holy Trinity of Gods in the Midlander Triad belief system. I told them to get stuffed and that there’s no way I would hide clues in a book I will never write. Ever.

    Breanna meanwhile tries the other last door on the other side of the hallway and finds herself in the servants’ quarters, a long hallway with small cots set up in rows along the walls. The entirety of the servant body lives here when not on duty. Shylocke’s fortunes have begun to wane in recent times, and one of the first spending cuts he had to make was that of the servants. As it is now, the servant body is considerably smaller than it once was, with several of the beds no longer in use.
    I wrote this before Kel’Serrar and Tremor butchered the last servants.

    The Leathe girl runs through the servants’ quarters, ransacking the place and finding nothing more than a few meagre possessions amongst all the belongings. This doesn’t stop her from flipping the cots over in her haste to find something useful.

    While I ran through what Maebh and Breanna found respectively and Wings sat there, trying to find hidden messages, Sins and Dev had a quick conversation regarding Dev’s upcoming campaign.
    “But honestly, if this is what’s going to happen, I might just scrap the whole thing.” – Dev.
    “This is what you wanted!” – Sins and myself, practically simultaneously.
    “No…. No it’s not.” – Dev, so sad it was hilarious.
    “But this is us being the GOOD guys. Imagine what we’ll be like when we’re not!” – Sins.
    “I don’t think we are the good guys anymore.” – Dev.
    I don’t think they are either.
    “I think we are. After all, I haven’t burnt down his house yet.” – Sins, unrepentantly cheerful.
    “The ‘yet’ worries me, so much.”

    Breanna has look at the fireplace in the room, noting that there are two cast iron torches set into the wall, one on either side of the mantelpiece. This strikes her as passing odd.
    “Why would someone put two torches on either side of a fire?” – Breanna, to herself.
    She tries to manipulate them in various fashions and eventually finds that she can press the one on the left down and she does so, causing the fireplace to sink slowly and quietly into a recessed pit beneath, revealing a small room beyond.

    Hearing the slight noise, the others cluster around Breanna and together they walk inside, minus Kel’Serrar who is still outside. It is dark in here, which is probably why there are more cast-iron torches bracketed to the walls, which Maebh lights with the flame in her hand. Like the previous room, this room too, has many bookshelves, however the eye is drawn first to the large, unornamented round wooden table in the centre of the room which is surrounded by ten chairs. Compared to the opulence of most of the rest of the house, this area is quite sparse. Apart from the table, chairs, books and a small writing desk over in the far corner, the room is practically empty.

    Maebh goes to the bookshelves and immediately finds several books on Black Magical theory and daemonic binding.
    “We’ve got him now.” – Maebh.
    “Uh, maybe give them to Breanna, she does that sort of thing.” – Tremor, breaking the unspoken rule, which is turn a blind eye to Breanna’s shenanigans.
    However when Maebh tries to open the books to read them, she finds she cannot. The cover simply will not open, no matter how much she pries.
    “The book is resisting! Maybe we should interrogate it?” – Sins.

    Tremor walks to the desk and searches it, turning up a quill, an inkwell and some sheets of blank parchment.
    "Maybe it wave near the fire Tremor.” – Harold, thinking it might be invisible ink.
    Tremor does so, careful not to accidentally set the page on fire, but no writing becomes apparent. It was worth a try.

    Tremor leaves the desk and goes to a bookshelf, joining Maebh in her attempts to pry another book open. He is unable to, so just turns it over to look at the cover. It is a large book, bound in dark red leather and locked with a bronze clasp which refuses to be opened. The lettering, engraved into the leather on the front of the book reads, The Daemons of the South: An Account of a Grateful One in Starfall.
    Starfall is a southern city, named for being built in the crater caused by a meteorite. I’d already named it before I found out that there was a place of the same name in Game of Thrones. Luckily for me, it’s only a background note, rather than a central part to the setting.

    Breanna also grabs a black leather book and tries to open it, but she doesn’t have any more success than the others. On the other hand, her proximity to this sort of thing leads her to realise that these books are what they seem. They are really books about daemonic binding and there is a way to open them.

    So she decides to summon a daemon to try and open it. The Leathe holds the book in both hands and calls a weak daemon into her before trying to siphon its power into the book. She lays the book on the table and the ephemeral creature sinks into it, causing it to shake violently on the wood. Suddenly there is a bright flash of light which illuminates the room, before fading away, leaving the book still and slightly smoking on the table. Breanna picks it up again, but has no more success in opening it than she did before.

    “Do it again, but pick a bigger daemon!” – Tremor, still ignoring the unspoken rule.
    “No! I think it’s obvious we’re playing with stuff too far above us here.” – Harold. He’s not wrong at that.
    “Well, how about we cut the spine? If we cut it open at the arse-end, all the rest should just spill open right?” – Tremor.
    “You want to cut open a daemonically possessed book? – Maebh, questioning.
    “Well when you put it like that… Yes, that is what I am suggesting.” – Tremor thinking it through. “Nah, maybe not such a good idea anyway.”

    Outside now, Kel’Serrar spies a handful of people making their way down the road and into the district. That would be all the rich people who went out to have dinner in the town itself. He doesn’t want to be discovered, so the Danann ranger drops down from the roof, takes his arrows and flees the scene, heading back to the cart.

    Inside, the others realise that they really do need to hurry so they all leave the room. Before he follows the others, Tremor takes the book he picked up earlier and tries to leave. As he crosses the threshold, a wall of bright blue energy flares up in front of him. The Dwergar drops the book immediately and the wall dissipates. He runs through, joining with the others and together they take a circuitous route back to the cart where they find Kel’Serrar waiting for them.

    They have completely and utterly ransacked Shylocke’s house. His library was thoroughly searched, with books strewn over the room by the end of it. His secret room was left with the hidden door open, and several books off the shelves. The servant quarters were pretty destroyed, what with Breanna’s searching knocking over cots and strewing possessions across the room. His hallway now has bloodstains and a dead man half embedded in the wall and upstairs, well, not only have the books been thrown around the place, his bed has been torn apart and to add insult to injury, Harold left a parting gift in the privy.
    “At least there’s no DNA testing.” – Harold.

    “So he is part of the cult?” – Tremor.
    “Yeah, definitely looks that way.” – Harold.
    “Could the Seabear in this be the Selkye we killed? Also the Wolfwhaile and the Wolfwhaile’s handler…. We did take that man alive, so the handler could be the one who was taken.” – Kel’Serrar, looking over the notebook for the first time.
    “Yeah…” – Harold, thinking it over.
    “It’s a pity we don’t know when these were written.” – Kel’Serrar, musing over the book.
    “No, couldn’t find anything that might give us a date.” – Breanna, preoccupied from where she sits on the cart, scratching out all the different ways there might be hidden code in the text on some pilfered parchment.
    “The Lord of Winter remains unconquered… Well they did summon something… The Lord of Winter?” – Kel’Serrar, still reading through.
    Silence as the whole group tries to puzzle it out.
    “Straws? Clutching? Give me some answers people.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “I don’t know.” – Harold, professing ignorance, but still reading through it over the Danann’s shoulder.
    “So what do we know? That they’re trying to summon a big daemon, right?” – Maebh, starting from scratch.
    “Right, to destroy a town called Summer Hill!” – Tremor, gruff, yet happy.
    “Lord of Winter would be a good indication that whatever it is, it isn’t an ally to Summer Hill.” – Kel’Serrar, putting it together.
    More silence….
    “He and Him must be the same person.” – Tremor, starting over.
    “Not necessarily.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “How so?” – Tremor.
    “They are the same on the one page, but they could be referring to different people across pages. I doubt it, but it could be right.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “Hmm, I still think it’s the same person.” – Tremor.

    “I think we need to speak with our friend in red.” – Harold, musing.
    “Which means we’ll need to leave town.” – Kel’Serrar, snide in an undertone.
    “No, we don’t.” – Maebh.
    “She knows the town far better than any of us.” – Harold.
    “I don’t really care. I don’t like her.” – Maebh, stubborn.
    “You don’t really like anyone though.” – Harold.
    “I’m fully willing to leave town and go after her, but when some of us die, can any survivors not give away all our gear?” – Kel’Serrar. Not sure if he’s deranged enough to think that his spirit will linger on in his weapons or whether he just doesn’t like the idea of someone else handling his gold.
    More silence….

    “So our friend in red could be the Falcon or the Lady…” – Tremor, thinking it over.
    “The Falcon could also be Chirya, though I don’t think it’s likely she’s working for the queen.” – Kel’Serrar.
    “Chirya?” – Harold.
    “The bitch who shot me.” – Tremor, vindictively, also indicating that perhaps he too has met Chirya in his past.
    “She attacked us. I think it’s very unlikely she’s not working with the queen, if not for her.” – Harold.
    “Well, I do know that we split up because of her intention to speed up the conflict in these lands. So she could well be.” – Kel’Serrar.
    And then we quoted the rabbit skit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That was practically the end of the night. Then we discussed the Major Talents for the Ranger class, namely the one where the Ranger imbues his animal companion with magic, causing it to roar with great strength. Even if it’s a rabbit.

    And we left it there....

    The Wrap-Up.
    I thought this was a good session, despite the utter destruction at the end, caused mainly because I think Wings feels a bit restricted in terms of what his character is capable of. Sadly, he has picked an Engineer, a class I hadn't finished when he joined us, restricting him a bit when it came to picking his Talents and the like. I'm really hoping that his next level up will really help him out here as I have added quite a few new Talents and the like.

    Just thought I'd put the theories they came up with regarding the notebook here.

    Theories on the Meanings of the Black Book
    Him/He: Probably Shylocke. Maybe Rangard. Could be someone else.
    Queen of Eagles: Queen Esmerelda of Elspeth.
    Grand Master: Maybe Shylocke but probably Rangard. Perhaps someone who hasn’t revealed himself yet.
    Knowledge of the Veil:
    Her Wisdom:
    The Hill of Summer: Summer Hill.
    The Lord of the Gate: Maybe Rangard.
    The Seabear:
    The Wolfwhaile:
    Deprived of spark: Either lost the Focus Stone, or dead.
    The Wolfwhaile’s handler:
    The Woodwolf:
    The experiment: Summoning the daemon.
    The Lord of Winter: The summoned daemon.
    A mite: Breanna Blackrose.
    The Others:
    The Lady: Perhaps Dhara.
    Her Falcon: Either Dhara or Chirya.

    They really don't trust Rangard, nor do they believe that there is much chance that Shylocke is being framed. Which doesn't completely add up if Rangard is working with Shylocke... The plot thickens...

    Let's see if they get any answers on Friday.

    See you then and thanks for reading.
    Last edited by Phoenixguard09; 2013-05-07 at 08:10 PM.

  30. - Top - End - #60
    Ettin in the Playground
    Amidus Drexel's Avatar

    Join Date
    May 2012
    The Algol System

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

    And the plot thickens as the PCs decide to participate in the age-old adventuring tradition: B&E.

    At least they didn't burn his house down.
    RB: IC || OOC

    PbP Characters: Remiel, Alexander

    Avatar by FinnLassie
    A few odds and ends.

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