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J D Dunsany
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
180 Posts |
 Posted - 12 Dec 2005 : 22:53:45
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OK. I'm a little nervous at posting this. The quality of material on this site is very high. Oh, well. Here goes...
I run two campaigns at the school where I teach for students after hours. Probably my favourite group are the students that started their adventure a couple of years ago and I'm going to start posting some fictionalised accounts of our sessions. I haven't had time to write up every single session, but I hope the stuff that follows gives you a flavour of what we get up to.
A word of caution. I'm a relative newcomer to the Realms and, although improving all the time, my Realmslore is not really up to scratch. I've adapted some aspects of the geography of the Silver Marches too.
Another word of caution. The students play for fun. They come up with stupid ideas. Sometimes I accommodate them; sometimes I don't. The incident below was one of those times where I was actually quite prepared to let them follow through on their bovine plan, but, fortunately for everyone - and my own personal sanity - reason eventually prevailed.
Some background on characters:
Kelsey Tyrrell - Fighter - Played by a student who seems to take on the role of leader without too much difficulty. I tend to write him as being somewhat 'narky' (that's a British word that here means 'easily frustrated and not afraid of showing it in a relatively restrained manner') with the others. This aspect of his character is addressed in other instalments.
Larisa - Half-elf ranger - Played by a sensible and thoughtful student who perhaps wouldn't be quite so suited to leadership of the group. She makes a good second to Kelsey.
Eleril Vaniquel - Elvish enchantress - When she first started out, her player was quite timid and hesitant and I wrote her as such, but, over the years, she's become increasingly confident.
Jerachin Shurr - Human necromancer - Played by one of the quieter members of the group who will still produce a sarcastic comment just when you least expect it. This is reflected in later instalments.
Markus Goldfeather - Half-elven bard - Perhaps 'jester' would be more appropriate. Or clown. He really did suggest the cow idea presented below. 'Nuff said.
Anyway, here's a taste (a 'vignette' if we're being pretentious and we should always try to be pretentious at least once a day, shouldn't we?) of what life is like in my campaign...
Flaming Cow!
“It’s a big wood.”
Kelsey’s rather unnecessary comment hung on the air for a moment. The gap between the trees yawned wide, but soon receded into inky darkness. Although spring in the Silver Marches was still several weeks away, the bare deciduous trees of the Boartooth Wood were so closely packed together that they seemed to absorb the weak Ches light and transmute it into a deep oppressive gloom. Isolated clumps of evergreens lent splashes of green to the picture, but their effect was muted and dissolute. The loam of the wood exhaled ancient breath. Even from their resting spot a few dozen yards from the tree line, the adventurers could catch its scent on the crisp air. It seemed to them to exude an impassive, almost cynical, weariness. I have seen empires fall, it seemed to say, and I will do so again.
“I think,” said Larisa, solemnly, “that it’s technically a forest.”
Kelsey snorted, disdainfully. “Pedant,” he muttered just loud enough for the half-elven ranger to hear.
“We’ve got a choice, though, haven’t we?” Jerachin asked, thoughtfully. “We can follow the track of the river into the mountains, or…”
“There’ll be orcs on the road for sure,” reminded Eleril, her elfin face drawn into an expression of intense concentration. “In the forest…” She let her words trail off. The truth was that not one of them knew what might be lurking in the Boartooth Wood.
Kelsey squinted into the low mid-afternoon sun, looking at the sparse pastureland on the other side of the trail, on which they had journeyed from Winterford. They were on the outskirts of civilisation, he realised, with a thrill of excited apprehension. Behind them lay the walled town of Winterford, satellite of Sundabar and last bastion of organised humanity, arrayed against the hordes of orcs that thronged in the hinterland. In the distance, marshalled like craggy sentries to prevent easy access to the frozen north, loomed the Rauvin Mountains, dark and forbidding, the details of their faces draped in shadow. Inscrutable and cold they might have been, but every adventurer from Waterdeep to the Sea of Fallen Stars knew that beneath those ancient peaks, lurking in caverns of slime and shadow, crawling like lice on the rough skin of huge and indifferent giants, were thousands upon thousands of orcs. Ever-present hunger gnawing at their stomachs, a history of defeat against the civilised races stinging their wounded pride, they brooded and plotted, restlessly jostling amongst themselves for position and power – all eager to gain the coveted right to lead the tribes from their caves and burrows, sweeping down on the richer marchlands in yet another desperate bid for food… and bloody vengeance.
Not for the first time, Kelsey wondered just what he and his companions were doing here. He looked back at the Boartooth. It could have been his imagination, but there seemed to be something particularly… menacing about its still, partly skeletal presence here on the very edge of the Rauvins. He turned again to survey the meandering pathway that skirted the wood and carried on towards the foothills. The lowing of a solitary cow, munching with almost exaggerated care on its impoverished pasture, faintly reached his ears. He gazed at it without really paying much attention to it. His thoughts were elsewhere.
“It’s a big wood,” he muttered again. “Maybe we should scout it out…”
“I’d certainly be up for that,” offered Larisa, brightly. “Maybe just a few hundred yards in. I could look for suitable camping spots… stuff like that.”
“Or…” The word rang out sonorously on the cold air. The others turned to look at Markus Goldfeather, the young half-elven bard, who was the fifth member of their company. He flushed, a little self-conscious at the sudden sombre attention of his fellow adventurers. If truth be told, he had only interrupted Larisa because he hadn’t had a chance to speak yet. All the half-formed ideas that had swum attractively in his mind now shimmied away like so many frightened minnows. “Well…” He looked around
him, slowly, holding the attention of the others with clear blue eyes that did not at all betray the growing discomfort he was feeling. It was an old trick taught him by an even older bard, designed to buy a little thinking time. But it was only a little thinking time. Markus stared past Larisa’s shoulder, saw the cow look up, chewing, and gaze reflectively at the nearby forest. Jerachin shifted slightly, adjusting his backpack, and inspiration settled on Markus like a suffocating, gaudy cloak. “We could catch the cow,” he said, injecting his words with a level of seriousness usually reserved for declarations of war and death. “We could tie a torch to its tail, set it alight and drive it into the forest.”
There was a stony silence. Kelsey raised his eyebrows, while Larisa’s encouraging smile melted away and re-hardened into something that looked suspiciously like a scowl. Markus cleared his throat. “Er… that… that way we could… er… smoke out… er… as it were… any malignant creatures waiting for us in the forest and… er… save ourselves a bit of trouble.” For some reason, during the outlining of his bold plan, the dirt on his boots had become considerably more interesting than the faces of his friends. He looked up quickly at the sky and then turned to concentrate his attention on the Boartooth Wood, an image of smoke and flame and charred meat rising unbidden to his mind.
Silence spread like oil on water. Kelsey, too, had turned to look at the Boartooth. He sucked in a deep breath through bared teeth.
“It’s a big wood,” he said, a touch too loudly.
“Forest,” said Larisa, automatically.
“Forest. It’s a big forest. Very big…”
“Perhaps we should scout it out?”
“Scout. Yes. Good. Big wood…”
“Forest.”
“Forest. Yes. Big forest. Scout. Let’s all scout the big forest together. Shall we?” Kelsey turned to look at the others, a slightly fixed grin on his face. Behind him, having taken a desultory interest in the conversation and finding it somewhat dreary, the cow defecated loudly and shuffled away from the adventurers towards another corner of its meagre pasture. Kelsey’s smile became more fixed. He spoke slowly and with great care. “Let’s all scout the big forest together.”
And, with that, the five adventurers shouldered their packs and trudged their way towards the Boartooth Wood in a pleasant, companionable silence. And, if one of their faces glowed with the flames of imagined fire, not one of his companions felt the
slightest inclination to comment.
Comments - good, bad, but please, not indifferent - are extremely welcome!
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"How content that young woman looks, don't you think? How content, and yet how flammable." - Lemony Snicket, The Unauthorized Autobiography |
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Crennen FaerieBane
Master of Realmslore
USA
1378 Posts |
Posted - 13 Dec 2005 : 00:49:56
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Sounds good to me. The key part to any adventure - whether you are Gary Gygax, Rich Baker, you or me, should be the fun involved. As long as the people you are running a game for are having fun, you shouldn't worry about what other people think about the "quality" of your game.
I've had intense games and stupid games in my time, and I've had my fair share of fun in both. 
Keep up with the good work!
C-Fb |
Still rockin' the Fey'ri style. |
Edited by - Crennen FaerieBane on 13 Dec 2005 00:51:36 |
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Sirius7
Acolyte
United Kingdom
5 Posts |
Posted - 15 Dec 2005 : 19:18:02
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| hiya, luvvin this again. Did you really have to leave Marok out of the background thingy? |
There was a man who said nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying |
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Sirius7
Acolyte
United Kingdom
5 Posts |
Posted - 15 Dec 2005 : 19:33:27
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| Oh yes, i concur with our American friend on this one, the group is massively enjoying the campaign,no matter how outrageuosly bizarre it gets and that's what matters right? Keep it up! |
There was a man who said nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying |
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J D Dunsany
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
180 Posts |
Posted - 15 Dec 2005 : 19:46:48
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Hmmm... it's getting suspiciously like Tuesdays after school round here...
I'll post something else soon, I hope.
Yours,
JDD |
"How content that young woman looks, don't you think? How content, and yet how flammable." - Lemony Snicket, The Unauthorized Autobiography |
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Marcus_Goldfeather
Acolyte
United Kingdom
3 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 13:21:45
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| Hello Mr daw how you doing? Like the story, bett you can't guess who i am!! |
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J D Dunsany
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
180 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 16:19:17
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| Hmmm... I appear to have started something off here! |
"How content that young woman looks, don't you think? How content, and yet how flammable." - Lemony Snicket, The Unauthorized Autobiography |
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Sirius7
Acolyte
United Kingdom
5 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 19:56:06
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| Indeed you have, well give Sam a little credit, he spelled Marcus properly! Incidentally, "but" has only 1 "t" and Mr Daw has a capital "D" [sigh] you must have an abysmal English teacher |
There was a man who said nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying |
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J D Dunsany
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
180 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 22:01:42
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Let's keep our comments civil shall we, chaps?
Hmmm... it occurs to me that I haven't actually started at the beginning (who was my English teacher?), so perhaps I should.
Somewhat different in tone, the journal entry below outlines the basis of the campaign. (The more eagle-eyed among you will instantly spot the tell-tale signs of a DM who has only a vague idea of what he's doing and where he's going. You might also think that 50gp apiece to find an orc encampment is peanuts and 150gp to destroy said encampment is risible. And you'd be right. What can I say? I was learning. In fact, I still am. )
Okay. Here goes...
And so it begins…
Trudging the 30 mile hike from Sundabar, their possessions slung in worn and
weathered packs across their backs, the mismatched band of adventurers arrived at
Winterford, only the promise of excitement and the very real but very dangerous
possibility of gold keeping their eyes bright and alive in their lined and weary
faces.
The Silver Marches is a harsh, forbidding land. Its people are hardy and
persistent, toughened by a life of orc raids, fell dark elf incursions and the ever
present ravages of the unpredictable climate. What greeted the adventurers at
Winterford was surprising to them, but all too familiar to natives of that pitiless
land.
Winterford was preparing for war. On arriving at the town gate, Kelsey, Larisa,
Eleril, Jerachin and Markus were approached by a stern-faced guard who informed
them that, as newcomers to the town, their presence was requested at the High
Captain’s residence at their earliest convenience. There was little doubt from the
grim guard’s tone that this ‘request’ could not be ignored, so the adventurers
decided to pay the High Captain a visit.
On their way to his quarters, they noticed the unmistakeable signs of trouble
ahead. They passed fletchers and spearmakers tirelessly working to produce ever
growing piles of weapons. Groups of soldiers loitered on street corners and
outside taverns, hands resting on sword hilts, even as they traded jokes and tall
tales. They walked past an old warehouse, obviously commandeered as an
impromptu hospital. Healers and clerics walked in and out of the dilapidated
building. Those that came out did so with blood on their hands.
By the time they reached the home and headquarters of Carlos Eindrini, High
Captain of Winterford, they had already guessed some of what he was to tell them.
Winterford and its satellite villages and hamlets were under attack by a group of
orcs from the west. The majority of Eindrini’s forces were being used to keep the
orc horde at bay, while keeping the road to the dwarven citadel of Feldbarr open.
It was a tough task that was placing a considerable strain on his already meagre
resources. To make things worse, Eindrini knew that there was a sizeable force of
orcs located somewhere in the foothills of the Rauvin mountains to the north. He
believed it was only a matter of time before these orcs made a move against the
town, joining with their brothers in the west.
Eyeing the raw yet eager adventurers warily, Eindrini commissioned them with the
task of locating an orc encampment some 40 miles north of Winterford, returning
with information on the orcs’ numbers, position and type of equipment. To do so
would earn them 50 gp apiece. If they could somehow destroy the orc
encampment, he’d be prepared to give them 150 gp apiece. He advised them to
circumvent the probable orc defences on the thin gravel-strewn road that wound
through the hill country and take the route that led through Boartooth Wood.
Although Boartooth held dangers of its own – most notably monstrous vermin and
spiders – they were not as fearful as the forces the orcs had undoubtedly deployed
to protect their encampment from frontal assault.
Armed with this information (and a couple of healing potions that Eindrini had
uncharacteristically given some of the party), the adventurers set off for the orc
encampment. After four uneventful hours of travelling in foggy if clement
weather, the party was faced with its first major decision – whether to take
Eindrini’s advice and brave the wood or risk a frontal approach on the orc
encampment. After some debate (in which Markus, the half-elf bard, suggested
setting fire to a nearby cow and driving it into the wood, much to the disgust of
Larisa, the half-elf ranger), the party decided that Eindrini probably knew what he
was talking about and decided to enter the wood.
At first, going was relatively easy through the forest. Spring had come late to the
Silver Marches, but many of the trees were in bud and crocuses and other
woodland flowers splashed tiny patches of colour across their path. After a couple
of hours, however, the shadows began to lengthen and, in the gathering gloom, the
group encountered its first real test.
Dropping silently down from their resting place in the overhanging branches of
ancient trees, three monstrous spiders attacked the party as it passed, unsuspecting,
underneath. Markus, the bard, had no time to cry out, much less recite a line of
epic verse, before he was pinned by a sticky explosion of web. Jerachin, the
necromancer, was bitten by another spider, distinguished by red flame-like
markings on its jet black carapace. His mage’s robes offered no protection from
the creature’s mandibles, but he shook off the potentially debilitating effects of the
spider’s poison, scowled and drew his dagger. Eleril was not so fortunate. She
was not quick enough to avoid the attack of the third spider and the enchantress’
delicate elven constitution was not sufficient to fight off the venom that coursed
through her blood. Staggering under the weight of the creature, she backed away,
seeking to disentangle herself from its grasping forelegs. At the sound of the
attack, Kelsey and Larisa whirled round and drew their weapons. They knew that
the lives of their friends depended on their actions in the next few moments…
As you can tell, my first post is sort of an expansion of the incident mentioned in this one. Normal (or at least what passes for it around here) service will be resumed shortly...
Yours,
JDD |
"How content that young woman looks, don't you think? How content, and yet how flammable." - Lemony Snicket, The Unauthorized Autobiography |
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Sirius7
Acolyte
United Kingdom
5 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 22:55:14
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 My apologies, i'll do my best as far as civility is concerned from this moment hence (did that make sense?), i wonder how your band of adventurers will take it when they realise that your cheating them out of cash, |
There was a man who said nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying |
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J D Dunsany
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
180 Posts |
Posted - 18 Dec 2005 : 23:10:33
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I'm not cheating anybody out of any money. Captain Eindrini of the Winterford militia may be a different story, though...
That's something for the PCs to ponder when (if!) they get back to Winterford on the completion of their mission.
Yours,
JDD |
"How content that young woman looks, don't you think? How content, and yet how flammable." - Lemony Snicket, The Unauthorized Autobiography |
Edited by - J D Dunsany on 19 Dec 2005 22:32:17 |
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Sirius7
Acolyte
United Kingdom
5 Posts |
Posted - 19 Dec 2005 : 21:41:49
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You sound somewhat doubtful of the competence of these PC's, is this general pessimism, or is there something else there?
Entredi will get what's coming to him i'm sure
Sirius7 |
There was a man who said nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying |
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Silver Marches campaign
