Fine Figures of Men

I’ve actually started typing the adventure up and, as such, need a distraction.

An easy but vital one is creating your mini men figures.

Therefore, please post up a brief description of your character:

Build.

Skin, hair and eye colour.

Hair (and beard) style.

Clothes.

Etc.

Nothing too detailed but if you especially want a horned helmet, then your wish is my command.

I’ll probably start drawing them next week, so you have the weekend.

If I see nothing on Hedzor Tales, I’ll just draw them simply how I imagine them to be.

No complaints!

;P

Good boy Greyclaw!

Reading through the books yesterday, I spotted a potential problem for Volkon.

Unlike ‘Familiars’, ‘Animal companions’ are merely loyal animals and as such need handling and training.

As Greyclaw has a whopping intelligence score of: 2, he can learn 6 tricks normally plus 1 for being a Druid’s: ‘Companion’.

So as Volkon is starting at 3^rd level, I’ll allow you automatic training success and assume that he taught Greyclaw all his 6 standard tricks during the previous few years.

This means Greyclay can start the game with 7 already trained tricks.

Your choices can be found in:

Page: 74 of the Players Handbook

Have a look and let me know what you chose.

Hungry Like the Wolf!

Volkon’s beginning

You wake slowly and your stomach growls. Your wolf is nestled alongside you but despite the shared body heat, you’re still shivering from the cold and guessing from the barren trees, you’d assume that it’s nearly the end of the winter.

Automatically, you reach for you nearby backpack but are disappointed to find all your travel rations gone. Bread, dried meat and cheese...

All gone, despite you not being able to remember eating them.

You don’t normally carry much in the way of supplies anyway, preferring to scavenge as you go but the cruel winter has made finding food so much harder.

Still, you’ve endured much, much worse and a little cold and hunger isn’t going to slow you down. As you roll to your feet, Greyclaw yawns in protest.

A weird mist curls around your feet, through the sticks and tufts of dry, rough grass and you instantly suspect it as evil and unnatural.

A shudder runs down your spine as you realise that you don’t remember how you got here, or even where here is?

Sensing your concern, Greyclaw is instantly by your side. His heavy breath reassuring, as you wrack your mind for elusive memories…

It’s then that you recall the spells you'd prayed for last night:

‘Create water’ to stave off your thirst, ‘Longstrider’ to keep pace with your wolf and travel more ground and ‘Know direction’. Knowing true North is always useful but why pray for it three times?

Greyclaw’s lupine head snaps up and he sniffs the air. You know better than question your wolf’s nose and, despite your inferior human senses, you too smell the air…

Burning wood… and meat too?

A cooking fire!

Both man and wolf drool in unison.

Status: Rumbly in the tumbly

Does an Elf Live in the woods?

Nitendae’s beginning

You wake up with a start. Despite the small, warm grey kitten curled up beside you, you’re shivering with the cold and when you attempt to sit up, horrible stabbing pains wrench through your stomach. Your mouth is parched and your throat feels like sandpaper.

Through squinting, gritty eyes, you scan the immediate area around you. An unsettling, fine white mist carpets the ground and guessing from the bare trees surrounding you on all sides, it seems like the end of the winter solstice.

Feeble beams of sunlight penetrate the leafless forest canopy but offer scant warmth.

You’re grateful when you see your open backpack close by. You crawl over the mossy ground to it and rummage through it with stiff fingers. You’re frustrated however to find nothing but used grease-paper wrappings and an empty water-skin within. All your rations already consumed or lost.

That’s crazy; You always pack enough food for the journey!

The little cat gazes with you and you sense its concern for you.

It’s only then, when you collapse back onto your grubby groundsheet, that you start to question where you are and how you got there?

You mind seems as foggy as the forest floor and you can’t seem to recall where exactly you are or how you got here. It even takes you a few moments to recall your cat’s name… Cogitari!

How on Fissa, could you forget that? 

As if you’d hurt its feelings, the little grey cat uncurls itself, arches its back and wanders off into the thicket to hunt.

Judging by the pangs of hunger and the dirt ground into your leather armour, you’d estimate that you’ve been lost in these woods for a while. Maybe weeks?

A Half-elf lost and starving in the woods?

An image of you wrestling over a mouse with your cat, makes you bark out an ironic laugh but you instantly regret it as your laugh turns into a hacking cough in your burning throat.

Your slightly upturned elven eyes widen in fear.

Maybe you should have paid more attention during your time at that snobbish, elven, tree-top school?

It seemed ridiculous at the time; a grown man sitting at a tiny desk, surrounded by children but it’s a frightening possibility that you’re really going to starve to death here!

Status: Fatigued -2 Strength, -2 Dexterity, + 3 Non-lethal damage.

Bastien Pinefall III: The Journey

When I came to I found myself propped upright in in my chambers, with a cold wet cloth on my head to alleviate the pounding. As my blurred vision gradually gave way to clarity I found the Abbott sitting patiently by my bedside.

He offered my a cup of water and spoke softly and kindly. "You were unable to stop them. It seems there was a third, who managed to knock you out whilst you were distracted. You are lucky to be alive, Bastien, but we are all glad you are.

"Others were not so fortunate. They murdered two guards and made off with something most precious to us. If not for you, Bastien, I would have assumed the thieves to be opportunists, simply stealing whichever relic they could lay their hands on but you have shown us otherwise."

I took a pensive sip of water and still dazed but also now confused replied "I don't understand. If they escaped how do you know any of this?"

"You provided us with a clue", the Abbott answered with a thin, wry smile and opened his hand to reveal a shred of black cloth, embroidered with the emblem of a skull and a scythe. "It seems a cabal of Nerull's worshippers targeted us specifically. They stole the Shoes, Bastien"

"The shoes?" I countered, "But why? They have no real worth!"

The Abbott was quiet for while, and it felt his steely gaze penetrated to my very core. Eventually he nodded, more to himself than to me, and stood. "They are no mere trinkets, Bastien. They are the genuine Shoes of Fharlanghn, promised to our care many years ago. We can only hope that the cultists stole the shoes merely to cause chaos. If they knew what power they now held, well... " he let the thought hang in the air.

The Abbott became stern as he left my room. "Either way, Bastien, they cannot be allowed to keep them. Your injuries are not serious. Take today to recover, but tomorrow you must venture forth to find these miscreants and bring the Shoes home."

The next day I rose early to find my armour and a pack already prepared, and a horse saddled for me. Not knowing when I would return I took one last look at my home, pocketed the torn symbol of Nerull - my only clue -  then mounted my steed and cantered out of the priory...

Bastien Pinefall II: The Theft

I awoke with a shiver. It was Autumn and the nights growing chill, true, but this was something else. Feeling uneasy I donned my robes, heading down the cold stone stairs and left the barracks intending to walk off my unease.

The air was cool and refreshing and with nary a cloud in the sky I could see the outlines of buildings silhouetted against the moon and stars. The horses nickered softly in the stables and all was quiet... My chills receded and I planned to return to my cot.

But as I returned past the church itself I noticed the door was open and decided to investigate. As I approached my ears caught the unmistakable sound of steel on steel followed by a scream - abruptly cut off - and two figures emerged furtively, one carrying a box. Fresh as I was from I walk I immediately recognised the pair for thieves, sounded the alarm as loudly as I could, and ran towards them. 

The one carrying the box turned on his heels while his companion stood ready to face me the glint in his smile reflecting that of his knife as he realised I carried no weapon. He came at me quickly but clumsily. Had I been armed he would have been no match, but as it was he had the advantage in attack.

I, however, had the advantage of experience and training and was able to avoid his blows until I could see he was tiring from the effort. I disengaged and uttered a spell under my breath to increase my strength. Feeling my God's strength surge within I was able to knock the dagger from his grasp and gaining a solid grip on the thief's clothing lifted him easily above my head.

As I threw the figure to the floor I felt his jerkin tear in my hands, but then the crashing sound of thunder, a blinding pain, and everything went black.

New, New Game Date!

Saturday 4th of march 2017

Bastien Pinefall I: The Priory

My name is Bastien Pinefall. 
I'm a cleric, or at least I was.

Now? Now I'm not so sure. 

Oh, it's nothing like that. I still have Faith, I haven't strayed from the path. It's just that the path isn't leading in the same direction. Isn't leading where it's supposed to. Isn't leading the way it was until only a week ago. 

So now I search, I pursue, I hunt. 

The Abbott said that writing things down would help, but that was never my strong point. I guess I should start at the beginning.

----------

The priory was a wonderful place to live - thriving and prosperous - thanks in part to our devotion to the Dweller on the Horizon and location between a number of large towns, both of which served to encourage trade. The fields were abundant with carefully managed flora and fauna and the weekly market ensured a healthy turnover of merchants, their exotic wares, and coin.

Given this fortunate state of affairs we were not without competitors resentful of our success or bandits who thought an ecclesiastical order would be a soft target. This, of course, is were I come in. 

Bored and uninterested by the agricultural and fiscal lessons the senior brothers chose to focus my attentions on a third pillar of instruction, and so I learned how to protect the priory from the envious. Training from an early age enhanced my martial prowess to the point where I was trusted with one of our most prestigious roles: caravan guard to the merchants who traded with us. During this time I honed my skills further, learned how to survive on the road, and maintained the network of roadside shrines dedicated to Fharlanghn - you will see many a sensible traveller offering a small sacrifice to a stone carved with a Sun ascending over the horizon to guarantee a safe journey.

It was whilst resting back at the priory after one particularly long engagement that it happened...

Where in God's Name?

Bastien's beginning

You wake up momentarily confused. The temperature’s brisk but the still glowing embers of yesterday’s well-made fire have kept you comfortably warm throughout the night.

Propped up against a nearby tree, is your Full plate armour and Great sword. Both shining silver and gold in the reflected light of the icy blue sky and still burning, orange cinders.

Nearby, a relaxed snort and whinny causes you to turn your head to see your unsaddled riding horse tethered loosely to a peg in the ground. It’s disturbing though that, despite its familiarity, you find yourself struggling to recall its name...

What’s happening here? 

Clambering carefully to your feet, you breath deeply, grip the holy emblem around your neck and look around.

Disregarding the eerie mist covering the forest floor, the air is fresh and bracing and, judging from the denuded trees around you, it seems as if you’re in a large wood during the tail end of the winter solstice.

Taking a second deeper breath, you attempt the clear the webs from your mind…

Where are you, what are you doing and how long have you been here?

Frustratingly, despite feeling no dread, you can’t remember anything beyond yourself, your family and your friends.

You look around your camp for further clues…

Although you can’t recall catching it, there’s a ready skinned rabbit, skewered and ready for breakfast. There’re also a handful of pre-shelled nuts and a few bitter but edible winter-berries laid out on a flat piece of bark. Most of your dry rations are still in your backpack and your wineskin is full of fresh, clear water.

You’re not remotely hungry but as you’re in no apparent danger or rush, you rekindle the fire and settle down to a large and healthy breakfast.

Afterwards, you slowly stand, stretch out your muscular arms and carefully don your expensive armour.

As you saddle your frustratingly nameless horse, you again try to recall your situation.

Something is definitely wrong here but it’s a brand new day, your belly’s full and you’re filled with optimism. Whatever’s causing the fog in your mind, you’re confident you can overcome it.

After all, you’re wise and strong, the journey’s an old friend and luck has always been on your side.

Status: Lost but confident. 

An Early (Jump) Start

I’ve finally managed to start writing the adventure. Coming up with the blurb for the fake module, actually helped me focus.

I do seem to have given myself quite a big job though, as I want this to be the best D&D game we've ever played! 

I’ve just typed up the first encounter and I’ve had to properly create a handful of characters that mightn’t even be needed.

The extra week afforded to me by Scott, will actually be quite handy. I might even find the time to make those little paper characters for you.

I’m struggling a bit with the timing though. How tough to make it? How many encounters to fill the day-and-a-half? How much roaming freedom vs Railroading? 

Ultimately, you can all do whatever you want but I’ll need your help to keep things moving at a good but fun pace.

I guess the derailing will depend upon who David tries to rob or Assif tries to kill.

Also; ‘Everyone meets in a tavern’ seems a bit too easy and 'blah' for an intensive weekend campaign.

So instead, can you all make 10 x d20 rolls and email me the individual dice results (not total) tomorrow morning.

(No witnesses needed, as I’m not going to tell you whether a high or low roll is desirable. ;P)

On receipt of these rolls, I’ll post up three separate posts to give you something to consider before we start proper at: 

Saturday lunchtime on the 25^th of February.