Category: D&D- adventures with polyhedral dice


So I’ve been horrible at keeping up with writing out the synopses of the adventures of the Dungeons and Dragons party of Barrel and Hammer, so I’ve decided upon another avenue to keep up with the colorful cast of characters…

INTERVIEWS!!

So, my general thought is this: I start out with a series of intro interviews with the Player Characters and then, after every session, do a group interview session based on the adventure we’re running and where they are at that point in time.

I imagine that there will be a ton of hilarity to ensue.

Seriously, just looking at a party like this makes me want to talk the stuff...

Seriously, just looking at a party like this makes me want to talk the stuff…

Here’s where the hard part comes in…I’ve never conducted an interview before, so I’m kind of lost on what to ask these characters.

Here’s where you come in.

While I’ve posted something similar on my Facebook page, I am also bringing my question to you, my followers. What kinds of questions should I ask? What kind of questions would you like to be asked if you were in an adventuring party?

Leave a comment and your questions just might get included in the interview.

Until then, May the Dice roll ever in your favor!

When last we left the crew of the “Barrel and Hammer” they had just acquired an ancient schema from an ancient and nearly forgotten House Cannith forge for their beautiful but mysterious patron, Lady Elaydren d’Cannith. In the process, we learn that Hamilcar’s bodyguard, Bolgor, is actually a Warforged wearing an arcane glamour that facimilates (I may have made that word up) human skin, (and, oh yeah, did we mention that he’s the little brother of the Lord of Blades? Yeah. That happened too.)

In the weeks that have passed since their successful quest, they have been running their mildly popular tavern, employing the halflings they defeated in the Rat’s Market and enlisting their leader, Rory, as head of security.  They have also made many trips to the House Sivis message station, seeking word from lady Elaydren. As of yet, there has been none, and they, each time, return disappointed.

Part 1: Sharn

- The Message Station

It’s another rainy day in the City of Towers, the thunder rolls in the distance and the rain cascades steadily. As our friends approach the message station expecting more disappointment, they notice that the door to the small structure is hung open at an odd angle. As the lightning flashes, they are able to see one of the door’s hinges has been forcefully removed from the frame.

Bolgor turns his head quickly as he hears a groan coming from the station. “Guys…there’s someone still in there.” He draws his sword, the rest of the party following his lead and drawing their own as well. Hamilcar stops for a moment and closes his eyes, mind scanning the building for life.

“There’s no one else in there, just the one and she’s barely conscious.”

The group, still weary, enter the message station, clearly in disarray. “Well, this place has certainly had itself a thorough ransacking.” Vit remarks, scanning the room and gingerly stepping around the broken objects littering the floor. As he steps behind the counter, he spots the Gnome clerk, lying atop a spilled shelf of scrolls and parchment sheets. She moans as he rests his hand on her head. “Blow to the head. Knocked out.” He mutters, then looks over his shoulder. “Harjonger. We got a Gnome down, lad.”

The Paladin, is there in seconds, kneeling , with Vit, beside the Gnome. He places a hand on her head and mutters softly. “Th’ light of Nesumnee restore ye.” There is a soft glow and a low hum that thrums the air around them and then fades.

The Gnome’s eyes flutter open and she jolts to her feet. “The Messages!” She cries out. “I have to check the messages!” She bounds around the shop, opening and closing drawers and checking shelves and hidden compartments as well.

Othello, still checking the shop, spots a scattering of rounded sling stones, and a set of footprints made in ink. He growls low in his throat. “Kobolds!”

Bolgor finds another ink-made footprint, something erupts in his mind and an image of a warforged in a red cloak appears and is, just as suddenly, gone. “A Warforged was here as well.” He sighs, then looks as his own hand, covered in the arcane glamour that creates the appearance of human flesh. Vit and Horjongr nod and sit the Gnome clerk down,

“Can you tell us what happened here?” Vit asks as Horjongr gestures for Bolgor to keep an eye on the door.

The Gnome rubs her head gingerly as she looks them over, finally recognizing the group. “I…I know you folk! Sure, you’re in here every couple of days. Well, I was minding my own business, you know, tending the shop and all, when a group of about four…no, six Kobolds charged in and just attacked me here. They pinned me to the counter and the others started to go through my things here. Oh, look at the mess they’ve made!” She cries, tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s alright lass, they’re gone now. Tell us what happened next.” Horjongr urged.

The clerk nods. “Well, that’s when a large man, I couldn’t see him well, but he seemed about human-size, he comes in with a deep and rumbling voice. He belted orders at the Kobolds and they followed him without question. Goodness, they all but yelped in fear when he spoke to them. He was asking for…oh, dear.” Her face pales a little and her look becomes apologetic. “He was looking for any messages that were addressed to you.” She gestured to Horjongr and to Othello as well. “It was the most amazing coincidence, that I had just transcribed a message for you from the speaking stone.”

Othello joins the trio on the floor and they all exchange looks, Hamilcar stands with Bolgor, a hand on his shoulder, as they keep watch. “What then, Miss?” Othello asks, his knuckles cracking as his fingers formed a fist.

The Clerk shrugged. “I must have looked at the scroll I was holding, because the next second he snatched the scroll with one hand and then hit me with the other.” She gingerly rubbed her head on the spot where she had been struck. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

Horjongr took a deep breath, his brow furrowing. “Do ye remember what th’ message said?”

Othello places a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder. “It’s of no use, man. Sivas clerks are trained to transcribe and then forget.” He holsters his gun, giving the clerk a warm smile. “That about right?”

The clerk nods, but suddenly her face becomes a bit brighter. “Oh, but I can remember who the message was from. It was the Lady Elaydren d’Cannith.”

———————————————————————–

 – A Call for Help

The heroes leave the message station, having adequately compensated the Gnome clerk for her trouble and misfortune. Harjongr finds the nearest City Watch guard and gives him some coin to send a detail over to the station to secure and defend it.

As the group make their way into the rainy streets and towards their tavern, a blur of feathers rockets out of the cloud-filled sky. As it circled the group once, Othello recognizes the animal.

“What the?” He exclaims, nearly bumping into Bolgor. “It’s a giant owl…”

Before he can finish, the owl drops the satchel it carries in it’s talons and then streaks off into the air.

Hamilcar, uses his powers to catch the satchel in mid air and sends it to Harjongr, who opens it to find a scroll inside. he reads:

Adventurers,

The normal means of communication seems to have been compromised, so I have sent this special messenger to personally find you and deliver this letter.

You served me once before, and now I need your help again. Time is short. I feel that our enemies have discovered me and are closing in.

Meet me at the Broken Anvil tavern, where we first discussed heirlooms and job opportunities. Act quickly, for I believe that we are all in terrible danger.

Your Patron,

Lady E.

It is Vit who speaks now, “I think it’s safe to say that we shouldn’t waste any time. Let’s go!”

The five arrive at the Broken Anvil shortly after, noticing that the tavern is strangely empty, save for a women in a worn brown cloak. She raises her hand as the group enters, causing it to glow with white fire as if ready to cast a spell, then causes the fire to die. She pulls back her hood and, despite her disheveled hair and the dirt covering her face, she is no less recognizable as the Lady Elaydren.

Rosie, the innkeeper, runs from the kitchen to check on the noise, but is waved away by Elaydren. As she walks back into the kitchen, she spots Othello and gives him a warm smile before darting behind the door.

“Quickly, Quickly!” Elaydren calls out to them in a strained voice, beckoning the group to her. Vit And Harjongr motion for Hamilcar and Bolgor to keep watch on the door. The two nod their consent and move to the main floor with weapons drawn. The remaining three approach Elaydren, Vit keeping a wary eye about them.

Vit speaks first. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Thank Olladra that you’re here. There is no time to waste.” Elaydren exclaims, lifting a leather backpack from the floor and placing it on the table. It looks very nearly empty, but she draws the trio’s attention back to her. “Look, there is no time to explain.” Her eyes are full of fear, darting from the group to the door and windows and then back again. “Instructions, gold, and supplies are all in the pack. Take it and go, quickly. The letter in the left-hand pocket explains everything, but you must go now! You must trust me, if you are able to accomplish this task, the reward will be vast.”

As if on cue, the windows all burst and the front doorway is thrown open. Six small figures leap in through the broken windows of the tavern.

“KOBOLDS!” Othello shouts, drawing his gun and focusing his powers into his weapon.

As he does, a seventh figure, much larger and broader in size, and wearing a dark hooded cloak. He carried a large gun upon his arm, which he aimed and fired immediately…at Lady Elaydren.

The bullet strikes her in the shoulder, and she ducks behind the table in searing pain. She immediately casts a curative spell on her self and then launches a lightning bolt at the hooded figure, striking him in the face and burning the hood away from him.

It is Bolgor who recognizes him first. A series of memories flooding into his mind:

 – he stands before a group of warforged, untested, untried in battle. It is his job to train then, to make them ready for the days and nights of bloodshed that are sure to come. They must fight and fight well to honor the house that created them all. Bolgor will make certain of this. Cutter, the youngest of his brothers stands with the group, as well as … -

“Cutlass!” Bolgor almost hisses, drawing his weapon.

The Gun-armed warforged looks at the Glamoured warforged and laughs. It is a disturbing laugh that comes from his un-moving mouthpiece. “Well, brother, I did hear that you had taken in with some weak-fleshed errand boys. I did not take you for a flesh lover, but I suppose much has changed.”

“Odd.” Bolgor spoke now as Hamilcar moved forward to help his friend. “I always thought you were impressionable. Now you’re a Zealot for a mad, bloodthirsty warforged.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, memories still flooding his mind. “Can’t say that I’m that surprised, little brother.”

Cutlass’s eyes glow bright red with anger at the jibe and he launches himself into an attack. Bolgor, with the help of his friends, make short work of the Warforged and a couple of the Kobolds as well. Harjongr pauses once Cutlass is felled to speak to the remaining Kobolds.

“Ye’ were obviously under the forced employ of th’ warforged here. If ye’ continue in this way, we’ll be forced to destroy ye’!”

The remaining Kobolds look at each other nervously, and then break out into a run and flee the tavern.

Elaydren moves from behind the table, grabbing a sword from one of the fallen Kobold bodies. “More of these assassins may show up at any moment, my friends. All of the information you need is in the left pocket of the backpack. Take it and go! Get out of the city as quickly as you can!” without hesitation, Elaydren darts out of the tavern and disappears into an alleyway.

Vit takes a hold of the backpack and opens the left pocket, drawing forth a folded up letter. He opens it and reads it aloud to the group:

My friends,

The object you recovered for me from the ruins beneath Sharn is a schema, a piece of a pattern used to create items both mundane and magical. I have learned that another schema connected to this pattern was being studies in a secret Cannith workshop in Cyre, called Whitehearth. I wonder if this research is tied to the Day of Mourning?

Parts of my own house seek this pattern for evil purposes and I do not know whom to trust. So I turn to you. I need you to travel to Cyre, find the workshop, and recover the second schema.

The location of the workshop was a closely guarded secret lost when the patriarch of House Cannith died in the Destruction of Cyre. you must travel to the House Cannith outpost in the town of Rose Quarry in Darguun to recover a record of all of Cannith’s hidden workshops.

In Rhukaan Draal, find a man named Failin in the Bloody Market. He can provide you with transport to Rose Quarry. From there, travel into the Mournland to find Whitehearth and the second schema. It is an admantine plate in the shape of a diamond, about the size of a human’s palm. Once you have retrieved it, return to Rhukaan Draal, where I will meet you. Succeed and I will see to it that you are well rewarded for your courage.

Lady E.

Vit places the letter back into the pocket and them opens the remaining pockets for his comrades to inspect.

Impressed by all of the equipment, Bolgor takes a step back. “Well, she certainly seems to have thought of everything.”

Harjongr looks curiously at the vials of holy water. “S’pect we’ll be encounterin’ some nasty black magic as well.”

“Well I take it we should likely figure out how we’re going to get ourselves to Darguun, and quickly. For all we know, the assassins could already be on to what we’re doing.” Hamilcar suggested, leaning back against a table.

The party, all in agreement, take to the task of researching their travel options.

Air travel, as it turns out, is out of the question. There doesn’t seem to be any Airships, Privateer or otherwise, that can make the trip to the Goblin nation right now.

So their Choices come down to the House Lyrandar galleon and the House Orien land travel by Lightning rail.

Noting that the land travel will take them much longer than any of them would like, the group agrees to the option of Sea Travel by House Lyrandar Galleon, and make plans to depart Sharn immediately.

Part Two: Darguun

Oh no! Skeletons!!

AAAAAWWWWW YEAH!! It’s “Bootsy” Baby!! OW!!!

 

Hey everyone sorry for being so late with this, but things have been a little busy and with the next part of our campaign saga starting tomorrow night, I figured that this would be a good time to let you all know how the first part of this saga ended last friday! Enjoy it!! 

 

When we last left our heroes, we saw them defeat Rory, the halfling rogue, and his band of halfling ruffians. Having befriended the surviving members of the group and gaining their loyalty, the crew of The Barrel and Hammer tavern (led by the goblin, Skakaan) make their way to valve cluster E-213.

Sharn Sewer

The goblin showed them down the narrow path leading deep into the tower. The stench of the mold and sewage alert them to how close they all are to the sewer. For reasons unknown, Vit was not able to accompany the group, but an Elf Seeker by the name of Elros had been nearby and witnessed the battle in the Market. Sensing the need from the group, he traveled down into the sewers with them, hoping to reach the Valve cluster. As they enter the sewer, Elros notes that they are not alone and Skakaan flees back up to the surface.

Not moments after Elros’s observation, a crossbow bolt streaks over their heads and a pair of Warforged appear from the shadows of the dark and dank sewer. Only one of them speaks. “You have the Provost’s Journal.” It stares pointedly at Bolgor. “Give the book to us, and we will allow you to live to see another day.”

The other Warforged speaks then, a sinister smile spreading across it’s metal face, “Refuse, and we will make your deaths slow…and painful!”

Harjongr tried reasoning with the duo. “Look, what is it that you want with the book?”

The Warforged Attackers eyes blaze in the dark. “That is only for our master to know!” They wage their attack upon the group, soon joined by a trio of Razorclaw Shifters, that savagely launch themselves at the party. Contending with the warforged, who seem to vanish and reappear to strike at will at them; and the shifters , who mindlessly attack Bolgor and Horjongr; the party must also avoid the random movements of the sewer valves which either shoot gouts of flame or a sudden column of steel. Caught by one such column, Bolgor and “Wolfie” (his Direwolf Mount) are knocked over, his mount landing on top of him.

Seeing Bolgor’s dilemma, the two Warforged laugh, “Serves you right, you pathetic Flesh Traitor!”

“What the hell?” Bolgor cries out in response. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Soon he is up again, and begins to attack alongside his comrades as they bring down each of the attackers. The lead warforged, finally falling, opens his chest and releases a clockwork dragonfly, much the same as the one the Warforged “Cutter” released in Sharn. Before the group can move to catch it, the machine jets away, back up the stairs from which the party had just come.

Elros looks over at the rest of the party. “This kind of thing happen to you often?

Othello, holsters his guns. “More and more, lately.”

The crew move forward through the tunnel, coming to a door lined with arcane symbols and intricate metalworking. Hamilcar notices that, in the center of the door, is fixed a piece of worked metal in the shape of the ancient house Cannith seal. The same one that covers Bonal’s journal. Harjongr fishes out the journal and moves it to the doorway to compare the two. As he does, the two symbols glow brightly and the symbol on the doorway begins to unweave itself before bursting into a magical fire. Within a few moments the door slides open, revealing the way into the Ruins of Dorasharn…

The Ruins of Dorasharn

The group moves into a passage that is completely consumed by darkness. In a brilliant move born of foresight, Othello puts on and activates his Darkvision Goggles. Through the psychic link granted by Hamilcar, his darkvision is granted to the entire party.

Upon passing through the tunnel and entering the chamber, the group is assaulted by a swarm of angry, shiny, black beetles. They are easily destroyed with the use of one of the many fire bombs that the group purchased before their journey. However, the assault does attract the attention of a horde of giant rats that ambush them as they progress through the ruin. Our heroes manage to corral them all into a corner and end the threat they pose just as easily.

As they deal with the rats, Wolfie and Othello break away from the rest of the group for a little scouting. Wolfie gets an uneasy vibe as they approach a ruined old temple. Othello takes out the long gun he purchased and looks down the sight and into the room, using Wolfie as a shield. He discovers a small magical pool inside of it and wanders nearer. Satisfied that the room is free of any possible threat, he examines the room and the pool itself and learns that it is part of a healing fount. Moving back into the range of Hamilcar’s psychic link, he informs the rest of the party of the fount and they, having just defeated the last of the giant rats, all move to the temple room to partake of the waters. The two dwarfs storing some in a vial (oh yeah, Vit has come back, paid Elros 250gp, and relieved him of his post) to take with them for later.

The group soon come across another room with admantine double-doors that bear, you guessed it, the Ancient House Cannith seal. Horjongr touches the old journal to the door and waits…

Nothing happens.

After some observation and scrying on the doors, they discover that the doors are spell-sealed and fortified by an amazing lock system that, unfortunately, none of the gang have the skill to unlock. As they check around the outside of the room, they notice a gaping hole in the roof and, after skillfully climbing the wall, Othello is the first to enter it.

The room turns out to be the ancient foundry that the party had been sent to find. As he looks around the room, he notices three pairs of glowing eyes staring back at him from the shadows.

They are warforged doggies…er…woof?

Three warforged dogs step forward, a collective metallic growl vibrating from the trio.

Wisely, Othello leaps up the wall and back through the large hole and onto the still intact portion of the roof, where the other heroes have begun to gather.

“Uh, guys…metal dogs down there.” He speaks as the Vit and Horjongr make it up onto the roof. “They don’t look very friendly at all.”

Horjongr looks down into the room, the dogs look back up at him, almost quizzically. “Well, what we need is in that room. I’m bloody going down there.” He leaps through the hole and onto the floor. All three dogs converge around him…

…and all three dogs sit where they stop, not moving, just staring. An occasional robotic whine escaping from one of them.

Horjonger takes his hammer and smacks the nearest dog square in the jaw. The dog’s face clangs, snaps backward, and then turns to look at him again, doing absolutely nothing.

“It’s fine lads!” The Dwarf yells to his comrades. “They won’t harm you, come on down!”

Vit and Bolgor follow Harjongr into the room, leaving a wary Othello and Hamilcar looking down into it from the rooftop. The moment their feet touch the ground, the Iron Dogs leap at them, snarling and biting. Othello starts shooting at them from his perch on the roof and Hamilcar lends the group Psionic aid in the way of his Telekinesis. The only one of the trio on the ground not being attacked, is Harjongr.

It takes him only a few moments into the fight to understand why. “The Book!” He calls as he smashes his hammer into another Dog. “They won’t attack me while I carry the book!”

“Well goody for you, Mate!” Vit yelled as he smashed through one of the Dogs with his hammer. As the dog fell, deactivated, a small rectangular rod expelled itself from it’s head. Vit looked at it curiously and then went to aid his friends, reaching Bolgor just as he was finishing off another of the constructs. A triangular shaped rod, emerging from it’s head.

“I got this one.” He wipes what looks like oil from his blade and dusts away the metal shavings from the dog he had just felled and they both turn to aid Harjongr, converging on the last of the metalllo-dogs and rendering it scrap metal. From this dog’s head a circular-shaped rod emerges the only intact piece of what used to be a metal dog. The Trio examine the rods as Othello and Hamilcar descend onto the floor, satisfied that they have quelled the threat within the room. As the two wander over to the rest of the group, Hamilcar notices the forge/furnace unit in the room.

“Hey, isn’t this what we’re looking for?”

The others look over as well, and a wash of excitement washes over the entire group at their find. They do notice, however, four depressions, evenly spaced atop the forge. A Pentagon, a triangle, a rectangle, and a circle. Othello walks over and examines the forge with Hamilcar. Together, they discover that the depressions fit the rods that emerged from the Iron Defender dogs.

Bolgor gave a look of confusion. “But, there were only three of them!”

A Quick look around the room revealed the pentagon rod, trapped underneath a large bit of the collapsed roof. Vit, Bolgor, and Harjongr work together to lift the rubble and collect the rod. They all move towards the forge and reach to start inserting the rods when Othello stops them with a “WAIT!!”

The rest of the party turn to look at him in confusion.

“The forge is rigged. You have to put the rods into the slots in a particular order, or else a magical kind of fail-safe will activate.” He explains

“Any ideas as to what the fail-safe might be?” Harjongr asks, warily.

“None.” Othello replies. “But, honestly, do you really want to know?”

Recognizing his point, the others decide to heed his advice and try to figure out what the correct order placement might be.

They start with the Triangle rod – click. And they are safe

The Rectangle rod – click, safe again.

The Pentagon rod…click, once more.

The party insert the last rod into the forge and hear the sound of something slowly shutting down, followed by the sound of something else retrieving power. There is a series of clicking sounds and a hidden vault emerges from behind the forge and opens, revealing a few gold ingots, some silver and gold pieces, a few healing potions, a potion for mage armor, an old and dusty map, and an admantine plate in the shape of a seven-pointed-star.

The schema!

They also notice that the spell-locked doors are now open.

Triumphant in their victorious find, the party begins to leave the foundry when a flaming crossbow bolt whistles just past Bolgor’s face and into the wall behind him. Before anyone has a chance to question where the bolt came from, another flaming bolt thumps into the ground just in front of Othello’s feet.

From across the room, a large Warforged carrying a large sword and a crossbow emerges from the shadows. “Weak fleshed FOOLS!” His voice booms across the distance. “Here, you will face Saber, greatest of the devoted followers of he who is the LORD OF BLADES. You will throw down the schema and walk away.” There is a bit of a gleam in his red-gem eyes. “This day does not have to end with your blood on my hands.”

Saber…yeah, that’s his real name

Othello draws his gun as Horjongr speaks up. “There’s no way you’re getting your hands on this schema, lad. You’d best be the one to walk away.”

Saber laughs hard. “You think you pose a threat to me?” He glares at all of them, stopping at Bolgor. His red-gem eyes glowing brightly with surprise and sudden rage. “YOU!” He throws down his crossbow and points a metal finger at him. “You dare side with the weak fleshed peons? You FLESH TRAITOR! You will be the first to taste my blade!”

Once again, everyone turns to look at Bolgor, who holds a look of utter confusion upon his face. “I have absolutely no idea what this thing is talking about!”

“Liar!” The Warforged shouts. “But it does not matter, I gave you your chance. Now! You will all…”

Vit raises his hammer to the sky. “CHARGE!”

No quarter was drawn. Before Saber had a chance to raise his sword, the party had torn into him to the point of barely being able to stand. He managed a good swing of his sword upon Horjongr, who staggered back at the ferocity of the blow.

In the end, it was Bolgor, himself who delivered the killing blow, sinking his blade deep into Saber’s chest. Saber looked him in the eyes and spoke one last time. “It would…be you…to end me…brother!”  A final flail of his sword landed a solid cut into Bolgor’s face that slashed in a diagonal line from just below his eye to the other side of his chin. As he pulled his blade from the fallen Warforged, he realized that he could feel no pain from the wound. Thinking it just a scratch, he turns to his friends who all gasp in shock.

Horjongr tilts his head as he takes in Bolgor’s face. “Well…this certainly explains a lot.”

Vit’s eyes go wide. “Nine Hells, man…”

Othello, for the first time, is speechless.

But it’s Hamilcar’s face, a mix of shock and horror, that causes Bolgor to worry. “You can’t be…you just can’t be…”

Bolgor looked at them all in confusion. Othello mimed at his face. Bolgor lifted a hand to his own face, feeling where the skin had tore from Saber’s final blow. Where the skin had parted, he felt something cold and metallic. Almost on queue a sudden flash of memory…

Bolgor stands on a massive battleground in the middle of the night, a large sword in one hand and a mace in the other, blood dripping from both. The old crest of house Cannith was etched upon his armor, and the colors of the house adorned his armor as war-paint. A large war forged soldier, also wearing the crest and colors of Cannith, is beside him. This figure’s armor is adorned with many blades along his back and his face, his eyes burn white in the darkness, but his face is as calm as a warforged is able to manage. The large worforged places a massive hand on Bolgor’s shoulder. “Fear not, little brother. You fought well today. I have faith that this war will be over soon and we will be as free as the humans that created us.” 

Bolgor feels a swell of warmth from the place he feels his soul must dwell, and he looks at his older forge-brother and nods. In doing so he is able to see the reflection of his own warforged face looking back at him from one of the face-blades. “That will be a good day, my brother.”

psssst...he's the bad guy

That’s right friends, the Lord of Blades is Bolgor’s Big Brother!! Take that!!

Bolgor snaps out of the memory, looking at his hands in horror. “But I’m…but I’m…I’m human!” His voice is low and scared.

Horjongr, in an act of mercy, lays hands upon Bolgor’s face and heals the faux-flesh, once more concealing his true form. Bolgor weakly nods his thanks, a wave of melancholy washing over him. Hamilcar keeps his distance from Bolgor as the party leave the ancient ruin and make their way back to Sharn.

 

Conclusion

At the Broken Anvil tavern Lady Elaydren, stunning in her glammerweave gown, beams with elation as Horjongr passes the schema to her. She raises her tankard of Mead to the entire party. “You have my thanks,” She speaks enthusiastically. “and the thanks of my House.” She looks over at Bolgor who sits alone, still in shock over his self discovery. “Will he be alright?” She whispers to the rest of the party.

Vit, takes a swig of his ale. “He’s taking the whole not actually being human thing pretty hard.” He whispers. “Granted, it does explain a lot.”

Hamilcar’s eyes flash with anger. “How could he not know?” He glances at Bolgor for the briefest of moments. “Did my father know about this?”

Othello puts a hand on Hamilcar’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, nephew. I’m certain there is an explanation for this, but let’s not dwell on this now. Let’s celebrate our victory.” Hamilcar nods in compliance, his mood somber.

Elaydren, unfazed by the outburst, happily drains her tankard and stands. “My friends, I must go.” She drops a bag containing the remaining gold for completing the assignment and smiles at them all. “If you care to, periodically check in with the House Sivis message station. I shall leave word for you when more work becomes available. Until then, I bid you a good night.” She tucks the schema into a satchel and hands it to her bodyguard, and the two of them depart the tavern, leaving the party to what merrymaking there is to be had.

 

To be continued…(in Shadows of the Last War

 

 

So last Friday night was really really fun. My first time as a DM was very well received and everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves.

So here’s a Synopsis of what happened this episode, starting with the Player Characters.

Harjongr

There’s Harjongr (Dwarf). A failed Necromancer doomed to slavery, he was rescued by Paladins of the Goddess Nusemnee and offered a chance at redemption. Taking it, he has become, himself, a Paladin of the order. Following the Death of the Minor Goddess, the order splintered and he became one of the last two adherents to the Order, dedicated to the principles and teachings that transformed his life. He traversed the landscape of Khorvaire during the Last War helping whom he could, not for the fame or recognition – simply because it was the right thing to do.

Mjothvitnir Ginnar, but his momma calls him Vit

There’s also his friend and comrade Vit (Dwarf). The sword to Harjongr’s shield, he is the other remaining adherent to the Order of Nusemnee. A a wanderer who fell in with a strange crowd, he was brought into the order by his friend and took to journey along the path of service and redemption, putting his darker abilities as a Blackguard to good use. The two Dwarves Traveled to the city of Sharn seeking a chance to serve.

Both Dwarves are also motivated by their mutual curiosity over how a Goddess, however minor she was, could just Die, and if she is truly dead at all…

Which is where they met the following Player Characters:

Othello

There is Othello (Human), member of a secret order of Gunmages. Towards the end of the Last War he amassed a small fortune as an Airship Pilot and Smuggler. Deciding to remain neutral during the war, he traversed the battlezones of Khorvaire delivering goods and cargo to the five warring factions up until the Day of Mourning, four years ago. After the establishment of the Twelve Nations though the Treaty of Thronehold, rumors began to spread among the smugglers that a law amongst them had been violated and that Othello had been smuggling far more than war supplies and arcane augments. Upon further investigation by officials, triggered by an anonymous tip, Othello’s shipping houses in Breland were discovered holding humanoid cargo, frozen in crystals to be sold. His business seized and his ships taken from him, he barely escaped capture, fleeing to the city of Sharn, driven by a desire to discover the truth of why he was framed and to regain all that he had lost.

Hamilcar

Othello left Breland, but he did not do so alone. With him, traveled his “Nephew” Hamilcar (Kalashtar), the son of his Deceased Best friend and Brother in Bond. A formidable Psionic, he remains the heir to his father’s formidable shipping guild…or would have been, had his father not died when Hamilcar was but 16. The other merchants and ship captains, refusing to take their lead from a teenager they thought had no experience, they left, leaving the dual souled youth with an empty Guild and his father’s former Bodyguard Bolgor (Warforgedpssst, he doesn’t know/remember that he’s warforged as he has an Arcane-made Synthetic skin).

Not much is really known about Bolgor, mostly because he doesn’t remember much past his awakening in the home of Hamilcar and his Father (who’s name I don’t remember). He is conscious of the decision he made to be the family’s protector, a decision made more critical by the death of Hamilcar’s father. On that day he swore to defend Hamilcar to his last breath. (which is funny because he doesn’t remember any real desire to breathe, either) Hamilcar and Bolgor closed the doors of the guild and, vowing to someday return, set out to prove themselves in the world, but not before paying a visit to his “uncle” Othello, who happened to be, at the time, a fugitive of Breland with a significant bounty placed on him.

 

Bolgor – he really does believe that he’s human…

The trio, after escaping the authorities, made way to Sharn as Othello still retained a few loyal contacts there who might yet point him in the right direction on his own personal Vendetta.

But ah, the need for coin would soon arise and our heroes, sensing a darkness overtake the metropolis, are thrust together as they all quest to unravel the mystery of the Dolurrh (Eberron’s Shadowfell). On their quest they learn of a priest who wishes to bring forth the Prince of Undeath, Orcus, and lay a swath of death and, subsequently, undeath across the world. The Band of Heroes defeat the priest and prevent the dark God from stepping into the realm.

Greatfull to them for this, the Lord Mayor Cathan ir’Demell, rewards them in gold and in a warm welcome to Sharn, granting them all citizenship in the process. Emboldened by this, the group decide that this adventuring thing, might not be such a bad lifestyle and buy themselves an inn/tavern that they call The Barrel and Hammer, to serve as a front for their private investigation/adventuring company. They hire a lovely half elf barkeep (Alarra) and a Dragonborn cook (Vol), and run the inn respectably in the heart of the Menthis Plateau, nearly a stone’s throw from Morgrave University.

And it is here that we begin our tale.

Part One: Death in the Upper City

A few months have passed since their meeting and the encounter with the dark priest, Kalarel. Their Inn is enjoying a moderate amount of success as the word spreads of the food and drink as well as of the newly forged reputation of its owners. The two Dwarves have even gone about setting up a small shrine to their fallen Goddess for those whom might wish to pay tribute, but since no one really pays much attention to that area to even notice the shrine, it’s mostly ignored except by the two of them.

1. The Bloody Bridge

On this particularly dark and rainy night, having not yet seen all that the city has to offer, the party leave the tending of the shop to Alarra and Vol and find themselves drinking and eating at an Inn called The Broken Anvil. Noticing the time, the party leaves to walk/stumble home, sobering up some along the way. Finding themselves upon a skybridge, Hamilcar’s awareness suddenly slams into focus as he spies a curious figure in a cloak avoiding the lights along the bridge, he watches curiously as the figure leaps from the bridge and disappears. After being informed as to what Hamilcar had just seen, the party moves cautiously across the bridge when they spot a body, lying on the ground in a pool of water and, presumably, his own blood.

When they get closer, it is Othello who recognizes the body of Provost Bonal Geldem, a scholar from Morgrave University. As they reach to investigate the body further, Hamilcar hears the sounds of an approaching climber and warns them just as the hooded figure leaps from the side of the railing an onto the bridge before them, throwing off it’s cloak it reveals itself as a Warforged, it’s eyes gleam bright red as it stares at Bolgor, atop his Dire Wolf mount, with a look of angry recognition.

the Warforged “Cutter”

“You…FLESH TRAITOR!!”

Though confused by this, the party takes no chances and jump into action. The battle is lengthy but the party, having taken their fair share of hurt, lands a strike that, finally cuts through the metal of the Warforged and sends a blaze of sparks flying through the air. Harjongr, ever the diplomat, reaches out to the construct in an act of compassion.

“You can be destroyed here, right now, or you can tell us what you want with this man’s body. The choice is yours, we do not wish to destroy you, but we shall if you press this further.”

The Warforged spits oil at the Dwarf’s feet in derision. “I would rather be destroyed by you, than to give in and disobey my master. He will have what is in that satchel, small fleshbag, one way or another!” And as he levels his axe to strike, he is struck down, to one knee. With his dying breath he looks to Bolgor again, rage in the bright red glow of his eyes and says. “I would not have expected this from you, after all we had been through together. You betray us, for these sacks of flesh and meat?? Your day…will…come…”

With his last words a compartment opens within his chest and a small clockwork dragonfly unfurled itself from within it and zips off into the night. The Warforged itself, falls to the floor, sparks flying from it as it clatters into it’s component parts and spills oil onto the rained-upon pavement.
Horjongr took the satchel from the provost’s body and examined the contents, locating what appeared to be a small journal with a mithril laced sigil on its cover. He opens the journal to find the pages, which weren’t made of any material he had ever seen, completely blank but having a sheen to them that was strange and unnatural. He was sharing this with the party and had just slipped the journal into his own travel satchel when an angry and astonished voice rings across the night from the other end of the bridge.

“Olladra’s bloody nose!” the voice curses. “By order of the Watch, drop your weapons and explain yourselves!”

2. The City Watch

Sgt. Dolom of the City Watch

The voice has come from a rather sturdy looking Dwarf with a close cropped beard and wearing the black and green studded leather of the City Watch, he is flanked by a male and female human bearing Halberds and crossbows. The Dwarf levels his own crossbow at the party, who recognize the him as Sgt. Dolom, the leader of the City Watch.

Instantly, the party drop all of their weapons (all except for Bolgor, who lurks behind Othello, still gripping his weapon but has dismounted from his wolf). Horjongr and Othello immediately use their charms to explain to the officer exactly what had just transpired.

“You know of us, we’re good people!” Horjongr spoke up. “We don’t know what the construct wanted or why he killed the Provost. We tried to ascertain that from him, but he refused. He only mentioned that he was sent by someone, an unknown master.”

Dolom lowers his crossbow, annoyed, but impressed. “While ye’ shouldn’ta take the law into ye own hands, I count meself impressed by yer actions and by ye honesty. He hands them all a bit of gold as a reward and hands the Gunmage and the Paladin a small ledger with his contact information. “Should ye’ need anything, lads. Now, ye best clear out. We have an investigation to begin.” And he waves them off. The group thank the officer and move on towards their own tavern.

3. The Broken Anvil

As the group heads home in the pouring rain, they are approached by another figure in a cloak. This figure’s hood is pulled down to nearly over his eyes and holds his hands up and open before them, to show that he has no weapons and no intentions of attacking them. He moves closer to the party and speaks low, yet loud enough for the five to hear him. “If you would know the truth of Bonal Geldem’s murder, you will go to the Broken Anvil at dawn. He turns away, wrapping his cloak around him and vanishing into the night before the party can question him.

They all glance at each other curiously and decide to head home and rest first before investigating the broken anvil.

At Dawn, the party all walk into the Tavern, to enthusiastic greetings from the other patrons and and smile and hug from Rosie, the halfling matron of the tavern. As she hugs Othello, he proceeds to squeeze the ass-cheek of the halfling (cementing his role as the gun-toting, scoundrel-charmer), who then proceeds to punch Othello in his Solar Plexus. As he grasps his stomach he glances at Rosie in time to see her wink at him with a small smile as she walks over to a table at the back of the common room and speak to a patron dressed in a fine hooded cloak. Flanking her is the hooded man who approached them hours before, his hand on a blade that hums with power as he grips the hilt cautiously.

“My Lady.” She leans over to the lady seated. “Your guests have arrived.”

Lady Elaydren d’Vown of House Cannith

The cloaked woman nods and Rosie smiles and waves the party over to her.

As the party draw closer, the woman removes her hood, revealing a beautiful dark haired, blue eyes woman, whose hair is bound in solver and turquoise ornaments. The signet ring of House Cannith gleamed on her right hand as she beckoned the party to sit and drink with her, shaking her head as Bolgor attempts to suavely flip into a chair next to her, but instead nearly falling on his face. “Thank you all for coming. Please forgive the ‘Cloak and Dagger’, my friends, but time is of the essence and I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you all.” She then introduces her herself as the Lady Elaydren d’Vown and gives the party information regarding an ancient family heirloom lost in an underground foundry in the ruins of what was once Old Sharn. “I was going to fund an expedition to locate the heirloom, but without Bonal…” her voice trails off and her eyes give off a look of an idea or plan forming in her head. “Perhaps you would be willing to recover the item for me. For a generous reward of course.”

At this, the party confer with each other and agree that they will take the job, but that there are things left out that are not being said. to that end. Horjongr hands over the journal that they found in Bonal’s Satchel. The signet ring and the journal immediately react to one another and the Mithril strands on the journal’s cover begin to glow along with the ring. To the party’s amazement, she opens the journal and scrawled handwriting suddenly appears where the pages had once been very blank. Her eyes fall upon a particular entry in the journal, her eyes going wide for a moment before pulling a map from her cloak and unfolding it onto the table.

“The location of the lost foundry is deep within the Dorasharn Tower,” She proclaims, quietly. “Fifty-seven levels below the tower’s present-day sewer system.” She looks at each of the party members in turn, a look of measured hope in her eyes. “I offer you five-thousand gold pieces and the good will of my house if you recover the item and return it to me. Will you help me?” She places a bag upon the table, which Hamilcar opens and reveals it to be one thousand gold pieces.  Lady Elaydren nods, “This is an up-front payment, and this…” she places a small token bearing the signet of her house upon it, “Is for you to use during this quest. If you are in need of equipment, go into one of the shops and show the owner this token. He will give you what you need on my house’s behalf.”

Othello pondered this for a second. “So, it’s a credit chit then?”

The Lady smiled. “Yes, of a sort.”

Horjongr raised his eyebrows and spoke up. “That thing we fought on the bridge.  what was it?”

Elaydren nodded solemnly. “That” she began “was a servant of the Lord of Blades called ‘Cutter’. He seeks the relic for his own nefarious purposes, no doubt.”

Vit, taking a swig of ale from his mug, spoke up as well. “And what, my lady, is it that we are recovering, exactly?”

“The relic we are seeking is an admantine plate in the shape of a seven-pointed star about the size of your hand.” She began. “It has no special power of its own, but it is an ancient schema-a piece of a pattern used by the ancient Cannith Artificers to create…well…unusual items. Recover this piece of history for me, and House Cannith shall be extremely grateful. “

Now it was Bolgor who spoke. “Are there any dangers or dangerous people that we need to be aware of while on this…er…quest?”

Elaydren shrugged. “Other than the Lord of Blades, himself, who may have other agents seeking the schema…who knows what lurks in the hidden places beneath the city?” She pauses a moment. “Now that I think about it, Bonal did mention that he would definitely need to bring fire on the expedition with him. I wonder what he meant by that.”

The party look at each other making a mental note, thanks to Hamilcar’s mindlink, to equip themselves with fire as well.

The Lady continues. “Anyway, I urge caution, but I am completely confident that you can handle anything you might encounter in your search.” The hooded servant places a hand on her shoulder. “My Lady, we must get you back to the manor.”

She nods and begins to rise, as does the party. Horjongr places Bonal’s satchel on the table along with a few gold coins. “Did Bonal have any family, My Lady?”

She gives the dwarf a stunned look. “Why yes, yes he did. He had a wife waiting for him.”

He nods. “It would do my soul good to know that she received his things, along with this gold and our condolences.” He fingers the hilt of his hammer as it dangles from his belt. “We will do everything we can to ensure that his death was not in vain.”

Lady Elaydren blinks twice. “You show true character, master Dwarf. I shall see it done. I and my House thank you all.” She sweeps from the room with her guardian in tow.

Othello takes a last swig of his ale and gathers up the map, placing it in his many pocketed vest. “Well boys, To market!”

Part Two: Into the Depths

1.The Rat’s Market

After gathering supplies for firebomb crafting and enchanting and sharpening their weapons, the party, following Elaydren’s map, make their way through the tunnels and corridors of Lower Sharn, emerging into an area filled with a mix of Goblins, Humans, and Shifters gathering around small tables, booths, and wagons filled with items and trinkets. The smell of sweat and sewage permeates everything as the inhabitants are forced to breathe in the stale and putrid air. In the center of the area is a large collection of baskets filled with blankets and trinkets, either used or broken, or both. A Goblin shouts from atop one of them, eyeing the Party as they pass. “No pushing! No Pushing! There’s always enough for everyone at the Rat’s Market!”

the Goblin Skakaar

While Othello Haggles with one of the merchants over the sale of a long gun and shotgun, Horjongr surveys the area and catches the goblin, the very one who was shouting earlier, keeping a close eye on the Party. The Dwarf approaches the goblin and surveys his goods. “Is there a reason you watch us so.”

Surprised by the Dwarf’s boldness, the Goblin stutters his answer as the rest of the party begins to gather near. “I notice things is all, sirs. I can tell that you folk ain’t from around here, and that intrigues me. Is there anything that I might be able to do for you here, in the Rat’s Market?”

Othello, slinging the long gun onto his back and the shotgun into a leg holster walks over to the Goblin. “We’re looking for the entrance to the E-213 Valve Cluster. A Savy Goblin like yourself would know all about that wouldn’t you?”

The Goblin ponders this for a moment then begins pointing to his wears. “I have this rare stick of sealing wax, only partially used, for a mere sixty coppers. Or maybe you could use this fine woolen blanket with just a ‘hint’ of mildew? Only thirty-seven coppers. Ooooh, or maybe a skewer of boiled rat meet, eh? For you, only 4 silver. Or, I suppose, if I could point out the way to a certain valve cluster, but what would it be worth to you fine explorers, hmm? One hundred silver?”

At this, Vit steps foward, nostrils flaring. Horjongr senses this in just enough time to put a hand on his “brother’s” shoulder to calm him and leans over to the dwarf, producing a few gold coins from his satchel and tossing them towards the Goblin. “How’s this for assisting us?”

The Goblin, takes the coins and examines them, upon realizing that the coins aren’t fakes he flusters and turns a bright red color. He nearly falls off of his basket.

(Meanwhile, as Bolgor decides it a good idea to stand inside of one of the seller’s wicker baskets, Hamilcar notices halfling eyes upon him and his party and alerts the group to this via Mindlink)

The Goblin introduces himself as Skakaar. “I would be most pleased to aid you in this endeavor, but we must hurry, there have been others who seek the entrance to the cluster and they have not been nearly as generous as you sirs have” He leaps from his basket and gathers his things into a backpack.

A crossbow bolt, seemingly from nowhere, sticks into the ground in front of Skakaar and he leaps back cowering behind Horjongr, who readies his Hammer as a group of halfings begin to appear from out of the shadows. Their leader, a slender halfling brandishing a large knife, calls out from a few yards away. “You’ve been askin’ a lot of questions, and that’s something my boss don’t take to kindly to. It’s a shame, but we gotta kill you and the goblin now!” And with a signal, a trio of crossbow snipers appear atop the mercantile roofs and begin firing bolts at the heroes, while brutes move in from all sides to attack.

Rory, Halfling Rogue

Within moments, over half of the halfling party are dead and their leader knocked flat on his back, bleeding heavily. Horjongr stands over the little man and lays his hammer down upon his chest. Vit stands nearby with his Halberd at the ready, a snarl upon his lips as his shield-brother speaks. The rest of the party, stand close, weapons pointed either at the fallen halfling or at the remaining members of his party.

“Why does your master want the schema?” The Paladin asks. “Be aware that it should benefit you most if you surrender and tell us what you know, we don’t wish to kill you, but we will if we are pressed to.”

Knowing that he is defeated, the Halfing drops his weapon and motions for his men to do the same. “Please. You win, but I tell you I know nothing of the schema you seek, I only know that my master has ordered your deaths and that I will die, having failed him.”

Hamilcar sees into the Halfling’s mind and sees the truth of his words. “What is your name, halfling?” He asks, helping the small man to stand.

“I am called Rory.” He answers “Of the Boromir clan.”

Horjongr, knowing that clan name, frowns. “I have heard of your clan. How can one from such a noble clan come upon a lifestyle such as this?”

“Well, look at us!” he half shouts, half sobs. ” I was exiled from my clan long ago, for dealing in forbidden spices. Now I and my brethren live here, on these streets, fighting for our very survival.”

Harjongr, feeling sorry for the Halfling, pushes a handful of gold into his hand. “Take this and go to the Barrel and Hammer, get yourselves cleaned up and fed. If you wish it, we can provide you work, or, if you wish to continue in your current way of life, we can provide you with a safe place to rest, so long as you provide us with information when we need it.”

The Halfling and his men all beam at him. “You shall not regret this, my new friends. We shall await you at your tavern, good luck in your quest.”

They all watch as the surviving band of halflings leave the Rat’s Market. Skakaan turns towards the Party. “Well then, come now sirs. To the Valve Cluster we go…”

Will our heroes find the missing schema?

Will they get to the bottom of the Murder of Bonal Geldem?

Will they ever learn that Bolgor really isn’t as human as he appears?

What is the deal with Lady Elaydren?

Find out next session…

 

 

To Be Continued!!

Okay, so the campaign I’m running begins in little over an hour and a half!

I’ve got everything set. Monsters and Enemies created and accounted for.

Campaign adequately Modified (there may still be some making things up as I go along and I’ve prepared for that as well).

I’m in the process of drawing the opening map as we speak.

I’ll be tweeting and Tumblr-ing the night as it goes by.  ( http://sphinxakashaa.tumblr.com/  my twitter is, as always: @sphinxakashaa

Wish me luck.

Hell, wish the PC’s (player characters, for those not in the loop) luck.

 

Allons-Y!!

So I found this and had to share…how could I not?

 

 

 

 

 

a beautifully done strip by Simon Goeneulte and Alexis Moroz.

Everything IS possible!!

La bildo estas kopiita de wikipedia:es. La ori...

yeah, it’s true. I roll funny shaped dice and I LOVE IT!!

So…hi!!

So I mentioned in an earlier post that I had recently decided to take up the mantle of Dungeon Master. If I had to give you a reason as to why, I could give you several.

* My desire to create a story that other people can interact with…

* My absolute love for D&D that compels me to want to share it with people…

* my need to create that has filtered into my gaming and geeky sensibilities (seriously, that’s another post altogether)

or

* we can go with the Michael Jordan explanation and say that it all stems from my pure love for the game and my affection towards the bonds it forges with the people who share the experience together. It’s something I didn’t get from W.O.W. or any other video game. For me, it stems from my very first real table top experience.

I blame my father.

Not someone who was really into D&D (that I knew of, anyway), but he bought and played my first real tabletop game with me. It was a game called Battlemasters. It was more Warhammer Fantasy Adventure than D&D but we brought our own element of role-play into it. We would spread that insanely huge battle grid in the middle of the living room or my bedroom and attempt to out think each other while rolling multiple d6’s at each other into the wee hours. This is the man that taught me checkers and chess and would stress playing to strict Hoyle regulation rules with me. This game, for me, was chess with dice and a game piece that was a frelling CANNON!

A few years later, my dad bought Hero Quest home and said “Hey, this looks like a lot of fun.”

My friends, my fate was sealed. My dad was the DM, my cousin and I were the PC’s and there were dungeons crawled, dragons slain, and treasure looted. My Childhood. When it was awesome, it was seriously awesome!

Recently, I went back home to New Orleans and shared my love for D&D with my parents. I knew that my dad would be into it, given our history with RPGs, but that my mom seemed just as, if not more, interested was pretty much faint worthy.

Anyway, my love for role-playing stems from my experiences playing games with my dad (and often my mom) as a kid. It’s something I always dreamed of doing with my kids when I was old enough to have them, and it’s played a huge role in why I became a DM. If there is anyone who is going to turn my little girl over to the Geek side of the force…Gorramit, it’s gonna be me. (I Hope).

In any case, for those reasons and several others, I decided to DM for some friends of mine that were as into the aspect of roleplay as I am. Three of them, I met at a weekly Dungeons and Dragons Encounters session that I attend here in Tacoma. To my knowledge (and I could be very wrong here) they haven’t really gotten into the meat of what role-play can really be, and I really hope to show them that. It’s also pretty cool that the three of them all seem to be best friends already, so this will create an interesting dynamic to the story I hope to help them weave. They’re a bit younger than I am, somewhere in the area of 21 to 23 years old, so that will bring a level of fresh imagination and energy to the game.

The other two players have been lifelong friends, one of whom is married to one of my wife’s best friends and is a dear friend of mine. The other is a damned good guy and awesome friend as well. The pair of them have a ton of experience with roleplaying and are, coincidentally, both actors. I’m looking forward to seeing what they bring to the party and the experience as a whole.

_______________________________________________________________________________

So one of the things I’m excited about in this process is that, instead of the standard miniatures used for D&D, I’m using lego mini-figures. The reason I decided on this is…well, there are several reasons:

1. (and this is most important) It’s funny!! There is absolutely no way that people will be able to take the game to the extent of seriousness that it is no longer fun. C’mon!! It’s Legos!!

2. They are easy to pose and equip. You don’t have to stick to the standard D&D minis that you can order from a ton of websites or buy from gaming shops or conventions. There are so many fantasy themed lego figures that it is pretty easy to create an encounter or campaign with them.

3. It would be all too easy to get kids into tabletop RPG’ing. You’re playing a game with your friends and your little one comes around and goes “hey, legos! what are you grown-ups doing with legos?” You see where that can go, right? Right?? Nuff’ said!!

4. Depending on where you get your mini’s, lego figures can be dirt-frelling-cheap! Ebay is my new friend! Seriously! I have been finding some quality lego figures there for a crazy low amount of money. Now…you do have to hunt a bit, but once you find a good group of sellers, stick with them!! They have good, quality mini-figs.

Another thing I’m excited about is the campaign setting itself. It takes place in the world of Eberron;

Eberron Campaign Setting book cover

Eberron Campaign Setting book cover (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

for me this is a magical version of steampunk, or what I like to call magepunk. So, high magic is at the center of everything; trade and commerce, industry, and technology – under the backdrop of this very film-noir post hundred-year-war atmosphere. With the D&D version of fantasy involved it makes for a plethora of incredible story opportunities and character development hooks that could be (at some point) very interesting and great to use in a story setting. There are still some very medieval elements to the setting,  and it’s fairly easy to convert standard D&D campaigns to meet the Eberron world.

Personally, at least for now, I’m planning to stick to the pre-designed campaigns.

Which brings me to the one hurdle I found:

So I’m running this game in 4th Edition (I know, I know, 3.5 is incredible, amazing, and all of the other arguments that have been thrown out there – as much as I loved 3.5, I also love the more streamlined 4th Edition. But, again, that’s another post entirely) , the problem there is that it’s been an insane crazytrain experience to hunt for any of the campaigns for Eberron in 4th edition.

Probably because they don’t actually exist there.

I looked.

I scoured forums and gaming sites until I thought my eyes would bleed. Nada.

So I undertook the task of locating all of the 3.5 campaign modules for the world and converting them to 4th edition.

cacophonous cries of “blasphemy” here while I stick my tongue out at you>

On top of this I’m starting all of my players off at lvl5, this means that I am converting all of the lvl1-5 quests to lvl5-10 accounting for creature/monster/baddies as well as skill challenges and experience points. (XP for those of you in the know) On top of that, one of my players wanted to roll a character class infamously known as the Gunmage. So (because I like to think that I’m the kind of DM that says “Why the hell not? That could be fun!” I also built (with help from various sources) a Gunmage class that has already impressed many of my other gamer friends and should be really fun to play with.

So my time has been consumed with math and story elements and the like and I’m honestly having a great time at it. This Friday will be the first time my group will meet to discuss their collective group origin story and personal back stories as well as address any character creation issues and questions. it will be the first time that the player rolling the Gunmage will see the two builds I’ve prepared for him and I’m looking forward to seeing how that goes.

There will also be copious amounts of Munchkin played, which is always a wonderful thing, as far as I’m concerned.

So there it is. I’m hoping to get started running the campaign in about three weeks. By then, I’ll have the last of my mini-figures in hand and so will my players. I hope you all join me as I begin running them through The Forgotten Forge and hopefully they, and you, of course, enjoy it.

 

May the Dice roll ever in your favor…

(yeah, I just did that)

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