It Started with a Chicken – (Splinters of Faith, Stoneheart Valley, Slumbering Tsar mashup, liberally suffused with various and assorted other Frog God Games adventures)
System: Swords & Wizardry
-What follows are in character journals written by my players.-
Session the First
My name is Solstice. Well, that’s what I go by, anyway.
I write like I talk, which ain’t too good, but Bort’s been telling me he’s gonna copy this here journal and put some fancy words in and make it make sense. So, if this here narrative don’t make sense – well, that’s him’s doing most like.
There’s a song that warns about pulling on a thread – it undoes the whole weave. Which means that the whole cloth can come undone, and then folks freeze that winter.
Least wise you’d a sung that if you was from Potter’s Pitch, where I hail from.
Anyways, we didn’t so much as pull on a thread as we pulled on a chicken. Well, the absence of a chicken, really.
Some time ago, having little or no money in my pockets, I was traveling toward Bard’s Gate. I was counting on good fortune there or on the journey to show me an honest way to earn a few copper or even a silver or two.
I had some companions along, of course, and we were about a fortnight out of Reme when we came by this village.
Later we heard it was a town called Lessef, which was awful generous. Calling it a town that is. It looked like a dreary picked-over corpse of a camp. I was surprised to hear it had a name, truth be told.
There were some voices, and someone shouting about “a fox had got my chickens.”
Well, I hadn’t seen fox tracks in a few days, and there wasn’t like to much game of any kind desperate enough to be coming around this sore spot in the road, so my curiosity got piqued.
We came up behind an old feller in brown breeches and a shirt that looked more like a grain bag with more dirt than his garden yelling to himself more than anyone else about chickens.
He was yelling about this fox, and I only saw prints of the beast that walks upon two legs, and I ain’t talking about crows. There weren’t no blood or feathers spread around neither.
This feller tells us that if we catched that fox for him, he’d give us a bushel of potatoes. Now, I wasn’t quite that desperate. I’d been hunting pretty good along out journey, but old Bort gets himself all excited.
He’s jabbering on about spuds like they was a sow from the king’s own larder cooked and dressed by the king’s own man. Bort’s more used to watery gruel twice a day up in that library castle near Winterberg that he’s from. Snarf was drooling, as usual, and Sneaky was somewhere “around.”
Before we get on the trail of the fox, we go up to the chapel to acquaint ourselves with the lay of the land a bit. It’s a temple to Freya.
Sure enough, except for them kids living with the priest up there everyone and every thing in this whole town looked like it had been stomped on by time. Even the goat tied up outside looked worn out.
Almary tells us about buildings in town being scavenged for firewood, and warns us against Scabby, the dishonorable owner of the pub.
One was killed in the ambush. Bort was mortally wounded, but the potion brought him back from the brink. The other we took back to the priest.
We went to talk to them later in the day.
Their camp was empty of life, but there was a lot of mining equipment, and a wagon and bedrolls. However, that was all we saw on a quick look before it was our turn to be ambushed.
It was a hard fight. I and Sneaky took cover by the wagon while Bort and Snarf charged the archers. I won’t make a big deal of it, but I took a near-fatal wound to my shoulder. A hair better placed and it would have struck my heart.
We had another prisoner, unconscious, so we looked around a bit.
In hopes the priest or our attacker might give us more knowledge, we packed up their wagon and gear and went around and up the hill to the church.
My recollection of the next part is a bit hazy, as a hands-length of arrow stuck out my shoulder.
The chicken-thieving group had been hired to dig under the town. I thought I heard talk of a necromancer wanting to get into the cavern. The stone slabs indicated to me that it was supposed to stay shut.
We turned the thieves and would be killers to Lessef for justice.
My drawing arm is stiff, but it’s getting better. I reckon I’ll be right as rain by the time they get back.
I don’t really want to go crawling down in some rat hole. I’m for sun and the caress of a light breeze. Trouble is, I got too much pride to have it known I was a coward to some hole in the ground, so I reckon I’ll be going down there.
(Written by Shannon Bell)
This order should contain the following items:
As per my orders and the email received Feb. 6th.
I just received an email stating the following items were shipped:
What happened to the remainder of my order? Please do not tell me that I will have to pay additional shipping costs. Shipping to Alaska is expensive enough, which is why I placed all these items on the same order in the first place.
Thank you in advance for your assistance.
I haven't seen a thread on these messageboards for this game as yet. So I am adding it on here. I first learned about it via Frank Mentzer and was enthralled the instant I viewed the kickstarter page.
Here's quote: "The Spanish game "Aventuras en La Marca del Este" began from the mind of Pedro Gil as a homebrew campaign for some friends in Spain playing the world's most famous game as devised in Frank Mentzer’s (BECMI) Red Box with 9 starter classes and new rules on mounted combat, aerial combat, seafaring and ship battles. Now, many years later, it is one of the most popular role-playing games in Spain. By enlisting incredible artists that are now rising stars in the RPG industry such as A.J. Manzanedo, Jorge Carrero and Víctor Guerra, the "La Marca" team produced an incredibly captivating "retroclone" role-playing game that is an old school experience wrapped in old world flare. The game is published in Spain by Holocubierta Ediciones."
In addition to some interesting add-ons, Frank Mentzer has agreed to write a foreward for the new English translation of this Red Box edition of the game.
Take a look and I am sure you will agree the art looks stunning and the concept intriguing. For those who play older edition games, this is a must have.
Northern Lights is currently an existing kinship in Lord of the Rings Online. Our Webpage
We are a friendly, neutral, craft-oriented guild, devoted to its members for support, team effort, and mutual protection. We wish to trade with any and all who do not raid upon us. We are a no-pressure guild who simply enjoy one another’s company. We welcome all comers who follow game rules and do not openly take sides with any faction. Griefers and others who think it fun to avoid the spirit of the rules won't be tolerated and are encouraged to look elsewhere.
Three order numbers were given for this subscription order, so I am not certain which one to reference. Here are the other two, just in case it helps identify the order.
Order # 2028293
Order # 2028294
This is what I wish to know: As shipping up to Alaska takes so long, might I ask that the Pathfinder RPG Race Guide be held till I can pick it up in person at PaizoCon? Believe it or not, I would actually get the book sooner this way.
Thanks! Dawn Fischer
The title and first paragraph of the description are incorrect for this one, though the picture is correct. This should be HC1 Valley of the Hawks:
The Valley of Hawks is a wooded river valley that cuts across a verdant prairie. It is named for the giant specimen of hawks that hunt along its banks and, during the Spring, blacken its skies. In the days of myth and legend, the Valley of the Hawks was inhabited by a race of giants who carved their likenesses in stone and hunted monstrous creatures using the giant hawks as their ardent companions and helpers. In the shadow of the giants dwelled the trouping elves and their erstwhile goblin enemies, fighting and feasting and making sport of life. The coming of the golden men from the west sent the proud elves and vicious goblins into hiding, for they commanded powerful magics and built a grand city of metal and crystal. But the reach of the golden men exceeded their grasp, and within a few generations their city had fallen and sent its children into the valley as orphans, and the elves and goblins worked their vengeance on them until only a few bands of the golden men, as wild and savage as the beasts, still roam the Valley. And so our adventurers arrive in the Valley of the Hawks seeking fame and fortune. Perhaps they come from northern lands or southern lands or perhaps they were born in the Valley and seek to learn its secrets and use its wealth to found a new city in the manner of the long gone golden men, a city that shines and terrifies and engraves their names forever in the stories of elves and men.
Useful for a military style campaign, perhaps? Comments welcome.
Falathar and Erlig met at the Pathfinder Lodge in Magnimar. They got to know each other at a nearby Inn where Falathar’s performance paid for the meal and ale. They joined a caravan traveling to Sandpoint. Erlig drove a wagon to earn his way.
Don’t you just love it when a player falls right into your plot?
Just after the final battle of the goblin raid on Sandpoint, the Party’s priest of Calistria meets Aldern Foxglove who thanks him for the party in disrupting the goblins efforts to cut his life short. The party’s Ranger (a half-elf female) had been the one to down the goblin commando Bunkel in a single critical shot. Aldern invites Strabomenos, the priest of Calistria, along with his friends to a boar hunt in a few days once everyone has healed and cleaned up.
Strabomenos: “I suppose you are right, though some more than others,” motioning uncomfortably at himself and smiling. “I will be staying at the Pixie’s Kitten, but dining with my friends here at the Rusty Dragon. Perhaps you'd like to join us there once we clean up and see to some healing?”
Aldern Foxglove: He smiles uncomfortably at Strabo and glances around to see if anyone is observing their exchange. Then he gives a sheepish grin. Rubbing his hand through his dusty and sweaty hair he nods then says, "Incidentally, who stuck that goblin dog rider with a single arrow? I didn't see who, but that was an amazing shot. I'd really like to meet that person."
Strabomenos: “Always an eye on the mark,” grinning at Aldern. “It would seem you and the archer in question would have something in common. Why don't you join us for dinner and I'll make the proper introductions? However you look like a man with more on his mind than just a beautiful ranger. What are you thinking friend?”
Aldern Foxglove: Aldern grins back, "So you are saying she is as lovely as she is talented with a bow? Well now, if you can arrange for a meet, I can't tell you how grateful I'd be... See what you can do. And let her know that she is invited to that boar hunt I mentioned."
Strabomenos: “Yes she certainly is but the hunt for her may prove more challenging, and rewarding, that that of the boar. Perhaps I can suggest you make the invitation a personal one. Let the hunt begin eh? Just remember you are a noble, but a gentleman first. Treat her as such and you stand better odds with this one. My only pleasure in this is to see the smiles you may potentially place upon each others’ faces. Well obviously I am in need of some cleaning up. I wonder if the kittens have any sponges as I am feeling particularly dirty. I'll see you tonight Aldern.”
Dahlia nic Sabylle:- youthful and lovely female with intelligent eyes
Class: Aes Sedai Initiate
Pol Cadderly:- brawler who knows the correct use of a blade, looks like he has been through a scrap or two in his time.
Background: Midlander, Caemlyn
You work as a bouncer for Master Ferrin the Innkeeper of the Golden Stag Inn and Tavern outside the city walls of Caemlyn. You are a loyal Andor man and support the good Queen Morgase. Caemlyn is the greatest city in the known world, the most beautiful. The glorious Inner City and the Palace of the Queen were crafted by Ogier (highly skilled non – human masons rarely seen in human lands anymore). Your employer, Master Ferrin is a kind but firm man. He allows his workers to eat from the kitchens and drink beer from the tap. But requires you be able to perform the work he hired to do. You replaced that fool of a bouncer Harrel when he was thrown out for having drunk too much and laying a hand on a lady’s maid who was staying at the Inn. You keep to yourself and mind your manners and have all the free eats and beer a body could want, as well as a room provided by your employer. Life is good… Except for those seditious fools who oppose the rule of Morgase, the ones who walk around like peacocks with their white peace knots on weapons and white sashes, cockades or bandanas. The guards should arrest them and not allow them to wander about the city flaunting their treason. Having found yourself in charge of a motely crew of men in escort to a lady from the northern city of Tar Valon, you wonder how it happened at least until you look back and spy her beauty again and then you recall your feeling the need to protect this lady on her needed journey to the far off town of Baerlon.
Background: Midlander, Two Rivers, Devon Ride
Your father was a bowyer, and his father before him. Your whole life was planned out for you. You would learn the art of bow making and take over your father’s business when you were older, making bows for the hunters of Devon Ride and perhaps even for those towns to the north, Edmond’s Field and Watch Hill. You had started already, making arrows for the business, and when you turned 16 this winter, your father promised to begin teaching you the art of bow making. Sadly your father succumbed to the wasting fever last fall, just before winter set in. You were left to fend for yourself, with the black yew bow your father made. For a while you managed, making arrows for the town’s folk and accepting gifts of food and clothing from the women’s circle of Devon Ride. But eventually you decided to travel north to Baerlon to seek your fortune. There you encountered a merchant who needed a skilled archer to help guard his caravan of ore from the mines in the Mountains of Mist on its way to the great city of Caemlyn, capitol of Andor. The trail was uneventful and the merchant’s other guards cracked jokes about the “Two Rivers Hay-Hair” and about your great club of a bow. You were startled at the size of Baerlon, but the size and beauty of Caemlyn, you are sure is beyond compare. You are stunned to learn that the Queen of Andor claims lordship over your home, The Two Rivers. You bet the men back home would be as equally stunned and too stubborn to agree, as no tax collector or patrol of Queen’s guards has been seen for several generations. Now you are at the Inn where the merchant left you after paying you what he promised. The Golden Stag is homey enough you suppose, though you miss your father’s hot cakes and mutton stew. There you come across one of the bouncers of the Inn seeking to locate others to escort a lady to the town of Baerlon. It has been a long while since you have been home. Perhaps not long enough, but there is a certain draw to at least go as far as that town. Perhaps you can find other work there, besides the lady appears to be paying well for bodyguards, more than the merchants did.
- an archer with a bow that looks more like a nasty big club and a youthful air of confidence.
Lorwyn Kilvar:- clearly one of the wealthy class despite his lack of escort, clothing and hair perhaps a bit mussed from a long journey, but clearly expensively styled.
Sean Sinclear:- an entertainer with a devil-may-care air about him with a flute and the skill to match, and a thorough knowledge of history, a Gleeman for sure even if he doesn't have the multicolored cloak.
You claim to be a Gleeman in training, and that might even be true, at least it is at the moment. This is how you live your life, moment to moment, ever since your family in Cairhien was disgraced and their wealth confiscated. With your father imprisoned and there being no family property left to inherit you had to make a choice, to fight against those who disgraced your family or make a living in some other way. Your older brothers chose the former and were all arrested and dropped in some pit of a prison no one ever leaves. Not shortly after soldiers came looking for you and you decided to beat a hasty retreat taking only what you could carry. You have had to live from hand to mouth ever since and you discovered a talent for tasks which make that easier. Now one doesn’t make it obvious that he is a thief or the guards of any new place will be keeping an eye on you before you can ever attempt a single theft. So you went back to the one possession of value you managed to take with you, the beautifully crafted silver flute your mother insisted you learn to play when you were a child. You made your way to Camelyn in Andor and have been making a relatively honest living playing the flute and telling stories with a historical bent in various Inns. You have begun to think that you could be a true Gleeman if you honed your skills further. Gleemen are respected among the commoners and they pay very well to be entertained.
Background: Ogier of Steading Jongai in the Mountains of Mist
You are journeying far from the Steading where you were born and lived all your life. A young Ogier does not usually leave the Steading, but your elders decided they needed to send a few outside to see what was happening in the world around. The trees were whispering of the return of the Trollocs and the barrier which protects the Steading from the One Power cannot protect from an army of Trollocs moving south, if the borderlands of men have failed to keep the back. You have found yourself far south of the human town of Baerlon, where few folk remember Ogier. After an attempt to locate an Inn and being shown the door after a woman screamed about Trollocs, you decided to find a nice camp spot away from the humans. South of Baerlon you located tracks of Trollocs indeed and have been following them south for days.
- an Ogier, called by the informed humans the Builders, with skill in the woods and a tendency to dream overmuch under the boughs of trees.
Okay, so I am trying to come prepared to PaizoCon with a character just in case I do get into a PFS game. I followed all the instructions for creating a PFS character after having already joined and gotten my number. I typed up all the relevant stats and such and typed up a paragraph for my character's background. I hit the submit button and was shunted back to the home screen. I navigated back to my PFS page and saw the name of the character I created, however all of the other stuff I typed has vanished into the ether. *facepalm* I knew as I hit the submit button that I should have copied all of my work, but it was of course too late. I am hoping that it just went to the PFS power that be (Mr. Frost) and is awaiting his approval, or something, before it can appear. I am hoping that I do not have to attempt to recall that background paragraph as that sort of writing is never as good the second time I try to write it.