Play Report-A Peaceful Resolution

When we left our party, they had just led a sallying force from the citadel of Marquis Rutan, allowing the king’s forces to retake the city, capturing nearly all the occupying Nekolyn forces. For the rest of that day the army rests while administrators calculate the spoils do they can be distributed. The next day, the king reviews reports of enemy positions and the camp prepares to depart.

Stormguard Summer Home

Darvil had rejoiced when his boot stepped on earth that didn’t sink beneath it. Though with each step his boots were finally growing drier, his relief was also shrinking. He had been shipwrecked and then noticed by the local orcs, forcing him into the swamp. He believed the forest he now walked was elven lands, where he would be better received than among the orcs. However, the elves lived so sparsely, especially in the South of their lands. He had little hope of finding hospitality, and he wasn’t equipped to feed himself here. His supplies were running low.

Though he ultimately wanted to find his way North, he had allowed his steps to stray toward the mountains barely visible through the trees to the West. If he could reach the foothills, flora like that of his home might give him a chance at foraging, of which he had managed very little so far. His stomach growled and he plodded on, hoping to find a good rock to sleep against before sunset.

Darvil glanced up as a ray of sunlight pierced the thinning canopy and forced himself to take a breath before looking again. Was that a building on the mountain face? It was; some kind of fort maybe. The road and stairs to it looked maintained, but if it was abandoned it still represented shelter and possibly food stores. He had to get there tonight.

The sun had set hours ago and Darvil felt about to faint from exhaustion, but the gate now stood before him. He wasn’t sure if the guards had seen his climb, but having seen them he resisted the urge to end the hike at the base of stairs to shelter in the cave beneath the complex. He knocked feebly, silently. Mustering his strength, he pounded on the door to better effect. It opened and, unexpectedly, a pair of humans stood beyond.

They glanced at each other sidelong and one reached out to support the pitiful creature and guide him inside while the other ran toward the house at the center of the courtyard. Darvil didn’t speak the human tongue, but the voice seemed smoothly reassuring as he passed into darkness.

Who Would Just Leave This Stuff

Who Would Just Leave This Stuff: Adding Flavorful Loot to a Well-Furnished World is a resource for Game Masters of all sorts of fantasy table top roleplaying games to add colorful loot into every nook and cranny of their worlds. With 18 tables for populating furnishings ranging from curio cabinets to desks to hollow table legs and dozens of unique items with detailed descriptions, this resource provides a myriad of opportunities for story to evolve organically from the items in a single cabinet.

For a brief taste of what to expect see the Rabbit’s Luck and Cauterized Troll Finger. The resource is available for purchase now at DriveThruRPG.

Biweekly Item-Sarpin Crystals

“We’re nearly upon them, sir.” There was a sharp edge of eagerness in Lieutenant Farvel’s voice. Captain Vesper couldn’t blame the man. They had been chasing these pirates for three days since their last take, a merchant vessel where they left no survivors.

“Ready the ballistae!” The pirates were still fleeing and with a couple well placed bolts might disable their helm, leaving them helpless against continued barrage. 

Add they neared ballista range, an onager aboard the pirate vessel flung something back toward them. The small pot shattered, smattering the deck with a water. A ranging shot. “Deck teams ready with the sand!”

It was foolish of the pirates to waste their resources at this range, when his men had nothing else to occupy them than putting fires out. Even so, the next pot fell upon the deck with a blazing fuse, the oil within igniting as it spread. Men with sand converged on it immediately, but as they reached the site swayed and dropped to the deck. 

A second pot landed nearer Captain Vesper, but he stood resolute, ordering men to extinguish it. Then he caught a whiff of the smoke. It burned his nostrils and his vision immediately swam. He felt his body hit the deck and knew no more.

Play Report-Turning the Tide

We left our party on the eve of battle, having joined Marquis Rutan in the citadel in preparation to sally forth during King Vindil III’s attack in the morning and clear the Nekolyns from the city between their two forces.

During the night they dream. Hilbrent sees himself ascended to godhood, inspired by their recent struggle against Margon and their many other interactions with the gods.

Play Report-Gathering the Troops

Eager to protect both the nation of Vardor and their investment in Fort Gollant, the party from Stormguard begins making plans for how they can contribute to the war effort. They begin by setting out as representatives of Emil Gollant to visit the four minotaur tribes he endeavors to add to the kingdom: Gilded Stag, High Reach, Low Eagle, and Bent Horn.

Biweekly Item-Rabbit’s Luck

“It has been said,” the old crone coughed, “that as you hold a rabbit by the foot and lower it into acid, its luck will flee into the arrested foot and provide fortune to the bearer. But then again, how much luck could that rabbit have had to begin with?”

Monster-Brick Snake

Quill glanced around the corner, seeing nothing in the dim twilight pouring through the temple’s windows. Breathing carefully, he crept forward along the right wall of the temple where the pillars and their shadows veiled his position pressed against the wall. He was leery of the lack of guard in the main forum of the temple, sure someone was watching or that traps were waiting.

Already halfway to the back wall behind the altar, Quill began to think the temple was indeed without guard. A snag in the mortar startled him, but he quickly calmed himself, pressing on. He was quickly growing fearful that his luck would run out and he paused to listen a while. The pit in his stomach sunk slowly deeper. Was someone watching him?

Suddenly a shout echoed through the chamber. Quill turned to the sound only to see the lightning deity herself hovering over the altar. Shaken, he ran, screaming for the exit, where guards seized upon him, confused at the madman bellowing through the silent temple.

Play Report-The Workings of Gods

We left the Stormguard party (now level 10) in the wolf infested great hall of Margon’s abandoned palace. Having slain two dire wolves and five other wolves, they take a moment to get their bearings, noticing disguised windows looking into the hall from the floor above.

Gregor’s Last Redoubt

The ancient structure squatted over the deep crag in the earth known as the Scar, still in remarkably good repair for being abandoned the 200 years since the Plague War. It seemed some other forced had moved in, as undead bands roamed the area around it. Still, the patrols were small and few, this new necromancer was yet weak.

As the sun set, Gildoran crept toward the fort. He’d probably already seen enough to get the scout pay the hierarch had offered him, but there was probably a bonus if he could determine whether or not the new necromancer was Drow. More importantly, Gregor was rumored to have left great treasures upon his death. Surely the new occupant wouldn’t miss anything discreetly taken.

As Gildoran began to climb the hill, a deafening voice shook him from head to toe. “Leave this place, mortal!” Stunned for a moment, Gildoran started to turn to run. No. He hadn’t been seen. It was a magical alarm. His presence was known, but the correct course of action was to hide near or within the fort.

He ran to the building, climbing into a window and huddling there in the shadows while undead patrols converged on this side of the fort. In the dark, Gildoran could only see the silhouette of the necromancer descending from the fort in flight. He seemed too tall to be Drow, but too thin to be Minotaur, or even human. ‘Too thin, perhaps, to be living’, Gildoran thought as the figure’s cape billowed to reveal skeletal hips and rib cage. He was casting. The spell finished with no visible effect, until the necromancer turned his head, fixing deep pits for eyes upon Gildoran’s hiding place. Screaming his disbelief, Gildoran scrambled to get into the fort as the lich began to cast.

Gregor the Plague, a human necromancer trained by Drow at the Scar, looked on the kingdom of the young King Vardor and thought he could take control of it. Vardor proved plucky and despite a good start, eventually Vardor managed to rally enough forces to prevent Gregor taking the battlefield, thus denying him access to new undead. Gregor never won another battle and was forced to retreat and, as the defeats continued, to flee outright as Vardor himself and his closest companions pursued him. Finally, he was forced to return to his fort on the Scar where Vardor caught him and killed him. Satisfied, Vardor returned to his kingdom, leaving Gregor to rise again.