For the love of order

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

20-January, Aruk
Syama's tells

I’d met Dolg earlier, and we spoke about putting together a group for safety, as we were both on Wanderjahr. He’s nice enough, though he doesn’t talk much. More importantly, he seems trustworthy, and unlike most hobgoblins I’ve met, I think he’d keep his head with someone spelling at him. Quick too, but I didn’t really see that until later. Back to the bar. We’d spoken some, and settled down in the inn for a drink, hoping some other likely prospect would happen by and we wouldn’t need to figure out what to post on which Guild board. When Maral walked in I decided he was either a really valuable companion, or a raving looney. He looked like he’d gone into a Traveler’s shop and picked up one of everything. Sometimes two or three. He’s a dwarf too, so I could barely see him behind all his bags and tools and packages.
And weapon, of course. With the strength he must have to carry all that, and the battleaxe he’s clearly trained with… He might be useful even if he is a looney.

Anyway, Dolg and I tried to find out some about him, and whatever he is, he’s not raving. The guy barely talks. He loosened up a bit though, until a detective came in to ask after his traveling companion. He seemed pretty miserable about that, especially when some kid came running in with a note from said companion. Off he started to go, and by himself too, but after a little work we convinced him that we were looking for companions, and he needed companions. So off we went together.

His companion (not his friend), was an adorable halfling girl, though by the time I saw her she looked half sick with nerves, and was in a bad disguise. She’d been mistaken for someone else on the street, and when she heard Guardsmen looking for her later, she bolted. On the one hand, not too bright. But on the other, would I really trust the Guard to find evidence to free me, if they’d arrested me? I don’t know, I’d never really thought about it. Anyway, she had the name of the girl she’d been mistaken for, so we started poking around to see what we could do with it.

The name didn’t help us much at first. It was a halfling merchant family, and we didn’t want to get too close to them without more information. But a little wandering in the Inn District helped more. There’d been a murder there, and the poor man killed had worked as a runner between halfling merchants and various inns, including the one he’d been murdered by. Better yet, we found a back entrance to the alley where it happened, (would I trust the Guard with my future?) and Dolg went back in the evening and found a bloody dagger, with a sign on it of… of course, the same halfling merchant family. (I can only hope the Guard hadn’t really done a search yet.)

The next day found us in the Halfling encampment on the edge of the city, talking to anyone who was willing to talk to us. It took time, but eventually we found someone who’d seen the murder victim, with a daughter of the family in question. And ‘with’ in this case meant ‘with in an endearing manner sure to be disapproved of by anyone less than fond of interracial dating.’

With motive, weapon, and the rumored disappearance of the halfling girl’s sister, we sat down to a nice comfy argument about whether to pursue it further or hand it to the Guard as it was. I decided, after we’d come up with various arguments in both directions, that the chances of our interfering with justice were at this point too strong to overcome the chances of either being wrong or handing them little enough evidence that they could avoid giving us the reward. I don’t think either of them felt as strongly about it as I did, but they didn’t take much convincing.

When we talked to the Guards, or rather one of them, he listened straight through, accepted the dagger with very few questions, and asked for an address at which to find us if our information led to an arrest. The inn we’d been staying at was conveniently an address for all of us, and we headed back there to wait for evening, when we’d be able to find Maral’s halfling again. Gilly, that was it. To kill time, Dolg and Maral sparred some. I thought they were pretty good, but it’s hard for me to tell for sure. They seemed to respect each other afterward, which is usually a good sign.

On the way to meet Gilly though, we ran into trouble again. Or at least I did. Some con-man was selling a mysterious substance to ‘make your magic stronger’, and when I stopped in hopes of finding out what exactly he was selling before I turned him down, he spelled me into taking and drinking it. Some seer. At least it didn’t seem to do anything to me. But the others had backed up when they saw that I’d stopped, and they knocked him out when he tried to get away. I tried to help, but apparently my magic was not stronger. When he wakes maybe I’ll find out what I drank.

20-January (Maral)
A Murder in Atur

Sometimes I have to wonder if traveling with Gilly will actually be as useful as Thosun hopes. It seems like she’s gotten in some manner of entanglement in half the towns we passed in our journey, being pursued by men with thoughts of romance or suspecting her of cheating at cards. But after our experience in Atur, I have to think she’s a weirdness magnet too. We’d come to Atur because it’s said to be a good place to seek one’s fortune, and hadn’t been there but a couple days before the constabulary wanted to question her in connection with a murder.

Thank goodness, she’d had no involvement beyond being mistaken for another lady halfling. I don’t think I could travel with her if she was. She was, however, scared about it, she doesn’t trust authority much. Something in her past, I think — I haven’t pried. At any rate, delivering herself up to police of unknown competence and honor wasn’t much of an option for her, so she went into hiding.

Serious hiding, too, she contacted me with an encrypted and obfuscated message shortly after a detective came by the inn asking after her. Thankfully, I was talking (well, trying to talk) with a pair of … prospective adventurers? I wasn’t sure at the time. The human woman, Syama, was a healer, with odd manner and odder eyes. The other was a hobgoblin, his name was Dolg. From our conversation, it sounded like he was a ‘pure spirit warrior of fist and feet’, a monk. This was fascinating — I’d heard of them a little in my studies at Thorgir Stonecutter’s Academy of Defense and Warfare, how to account for such fighting style on the battlefield as enemy or ally, but amongst dwarves, and city-dwelling dwarves especially, they are exceedingly rare. Both of them seemed sharp-witted, and competent, so I was grateful when they offered to accompany me to meet Gilly in her hiding spot in the low quarter.

Gilly hadn’t had the freedom of movement to research, but she did have one piece of information which would prove invaluable. When she was mistaken on the street, the man in question addressed her as Gorlinson, and said he “wasn’t afraid of her or her oaf brother.” Then she’s caught word that she was wanted for questioning in a murder, and decided to lay low. We quickly found that the Gorlinsons were a halfling merchant family, but we didn’t care to approach them just yet. Atur not being the sort of city where murders happen daily, we were able to find posters asking for information (and offering a reward), and soon located a person who actually knew poor Jon T. He’d worked as a runner between various halfling merchants and the Inn District, and met his end in an alley in said district. Dolg’s skill at stealth is close to Gilly’s, I think (and as an added bonus, can see in the dark) — he was able to sneak into the alley and retrieve a bloody dagger. And this dagger bore the mark of the Gorlinsons… The pieces were coming together, and quickly.

Our next destination was the halfling encampment, where the more socially adept of our group discovered the rest of the story — one sister being the lover of the murdered man, the other (and her brother?) displeased with this, hot words and hotter blood. It’s sad to see again what stupidity results. A man dead, a woman fled. And for what?

Our duty clear, we related the impressive body of evidence to a constable. He seemed competent, at least at note-taking, but I do have to wonder about a police force who didn’t bother to look under boxes in the alley within the day. I guess I won’t blame Gilly too much for avoiding them. They’d best not screw it up from here, though — none of us would be pleased to be cheated out of the reward money, or more importantly of the momentary fame that would come from having solved the murder. In the end, it may turn out to have been a great opportunity, if we find better work as a result.

Gilly’s a better judge of character than I am. I hope she likes Syama and Dolg — I think they’re competent, and between the four of us, we have a good set of skills to handle what job offers might arise in the wake of our detective work. I do hope there isn’t an argument over whether Gilly’s information is worth a share of the glory, or whether getting out from suspicion-of-murder ought to be sufficient. Wonder if I can get a chance to talk with her first — I don’t know if she’s even considered the reward or possibly working together or anything like that.

27-January (Gilly)
Early-morning reflections

Thank goodness, Maral is finally getting to be a useful
traveling companion. I was getting worried that he’d
just keep moping about until he ran out of money or got
himself killed while I wasn’t looking. But since we’ve
arrived in Atur, he’s been a lot better. First he found
allies and together we solved a murder that the
authorities mistakenly suspected my involvement in. Then
he actually took initiative in finding the group some
employment! A simple guard-these-crates job, but still,
it’s something.

I think having a group to work in is helpful. Glad he’s
finally sticking up for himself instead of just being
grumping about. I mean, sure he’s got a hard path,
getting shat on by the family like that. But I’ve had
it worse, and you don’t see me complaining. Wonder what
he would say if he knew… as interesting as that question
is, best to save that revelation for now. If it upset
him enough, we could lose all the progress we’ve made so far.

And it has been definite progress.
There was a moment when it looked like he might have
slipped into his funk, when the merchant casually noted
the unusualness of a Glorgirn guarding merchandise instead
of overseeing it. But his sense of duty kicked in when we
were doing the actual guard work.

Two serious attempts (probably from the same source) on the
goods in one night! I think the description as ‘moderately
valuable’ might have been a bit of an understatement. Good
thing we’re all young enough to stay up all night when we
need to, so we can be there when the bar is stealthily slid
back, or the loading bay not-so-stealthily smashed in by
a battering ram. In one shot, no less. At least it gave
me a chance to assess our companions’ skills, and no one
got hurt (that we care about, that is).

Dolg’s unarmed style seemed better at defense than offense,
though that may have been the luck of a few rounds. While
he wasn’t doing much damage to start, he was holding a
position against four assailants and not getting clobbered,
which is pretty impressive without armor. This gave me time
to get a few choice shots in from the darkness. I have to
remember that I’m running short on the best arrows, can’t
depend too much on my luck. Syama wasn’t putting the enemy
out of commission, but not her job in a properly configured
group, and she was doing nicely at her real job, getting
the fallen back up. Once we had both Dolg and Maral going,
they made short work of the rest. Two dead, two captured,
none escaped — now that’s what I call success!

Our employer complained about the bandits getting blood on
his nice warehouse floor, the bastard. What the fuck does
he think the alternative was? Maral showed rare form,
offered to hire out cleanup. Which is easy enough, and
cheap, so probably the better bet than the sharp answer
that was on my lips.

Maral was in ebullient mood after the fight, but as the
morning wore on, he started withdrawing again. I’m pretty
sure he’s never killed a man before, the gentle soul. Sigh.
Yet another thing to gently work around. I’ve got my work
cut out for me.

And you know what would be awesome? If we could take our
nap before the depositions to the constables about how the
bandits were killed/captured. Ah, well.

17-Feb (Maral)

Garlek certainly didn’t look like a village that would withstand the assault of an ogre tribe. Even with my basic training in soldiery, I could easily spot how the palisade (never that sturdy) had been broken through and insufficiently patched up, leaving weak spots for future assaults. The defenders were, naturally, farmers and craftspeople by trade, and only fighters by necessity. Still, as Gilly and Dolg went with Espen to scout the ogres, and Syama and I talked strategy with the mayor and the local healer, I could tell that they would succeed with the right help. Why? Because they loved the village. Their commitment to it, and to each other, fills my heart in a way I don’t know if even my friends would fully understand. Their bond of duty and trust reminds me of that I once knew in my clan, but more powerful. Twice, once because they have so much less, and again because they honor it consistently. I spoke with Garn Redaxe, the mayor, at some length — his stories of his adventures and of others’, of people who have cherished this little village, invigorate me. If my grandfather were half the man that he is, I never would have been treated as I was. I pray that I may impress Garn in helping defend Garlek against the ogres, and know his approval and gratitude. Gilly would say this is the sort of thinking that gets you killed, but she’s wrong. There’s a time to think about safety, but there’s a time for standing up to defend the greater good. And I just know we can win.

Fortunately, Gilly only complained briefly about the odds after the scouting party returned. I’m not sure if it was Syama and Dolg’s arguments or the distraction of the scouts’ news, but in any case I’m glad of it. They hadn’t managed to figure an approximate count of the enemy, but they did spy something possibly as interesting: the ogres were searching for and harvesting a specific plant. Why was unclear, it was supposed no good as food or spice or poison. Gilly wondered if it was perhaps for a potion? Clever girl, she is. We brought it to Clwniver, the healer, who said it did have some interesting properties, related to necromancy. Strange. We thought about it some, and decided it unlikely that the ogres had a magic user working for them — Espen said he’d seen no sign of that all the time he’s been scouting. Syama suggested contacting the Blood of Vol temple when we returned to Iron Town, and Gilly volunteered to do so. It’s good to have someone who can talk comfortably with people like that — I don’t think I could, even if I was a talker.

We made a lot of tactical plans and traps, which if they work right right will keep the ogres at arms’ reach for long enough for us to fill them with bolts (and sharpened sticks, burning oil, and caltrops). Fortunately, they all depend on the reliable stupidity and bullheadedness of ogres, so I think we have a good chance. We’ve loaded the wagon with kids to evacuate to Iron Town. Well, the smaller kids at least. The bigger ones are staying to help load crossbows and the like. It makes me proud to see how these villagers devote themselves to the village-as-a-whole. Will write more from Iron Town, the chatter of little ones makes it impossible to concentrate.

We’re in Iron Town now, and the noncombatants safely ensconced, so we can do a bit of shopping. A hundredpound of caltrops, a hundredpound of oil… good thing we’ve a wagon, even I wouldn’t want to carry this stuff! We dropped by the Blood of Vol temple and learned something interesting but very disturbing. They’ve a chair made of bones in their anteroom! Okay, that wasn’t it really. It sounds like the ogres are attempting a ritual that can possibly bring a recently deceased person back to life. Of course, it only works if you do it exactly right, and being ogres, they’re likely to make some undead-ogre-kid monstrosity. Which could complicate the battle… We ended up adding holy water to the shopping list. Rather a lot of holy water, much more than I should hope we could use, but the priests seemed to be okay with them bringing back any they didn’t use, so I think it’s okay. I can’t tell people how to spend their money when I want to spend mine on a nice backpack. (Not enough money for it! I could have managed if I only brought one healing potion, but that would be dumb.) Gilly even managed to sweet-talk one adventurer into joining our mission.

Back in Garlek, the preparations are going nicely, and Gilly convinced a local to deliver a message to a giant scout, that they were wrong about the ritual and it wouldn’t bring the kid back to life but instead make her a horrible undead monstrosity. Let’s hope that means one or two fewer ogres wanting to follow the chief in. The big surprise was that Garn offered that Dolg or I wear the Helm of Garlek for the battle. It’s an amazing thing, a powerful force for the specific purpose of defending Garlek from ogres.

And… I’m conflicted. I know what it can do, not just from hearing stories, but also from wearing it to ‘ask’ it if it found us worthy. I felt its vast knowledge of ogre-fighting technique flood my mind, and I know what I could do as its wearer. A sling bullet true to the temple, a cleave through the bellies of two ogres momentarily distracted by some motion out of my range of vision. I’d still be at risk of getting clobbered by a greatclub, but with healing… It would improve our chances so much, and I would be the hero. I want it so much.

But… Dolg would as proficient with it, maybe a little less, maybe some more. And I know he yearns to be key to the fight. We haven’t fought together much, but I’ve seen his frustration on the occasions when his hands and feet strike less than true, and it falls to me to provide the less than subtle waraxe backup.

But would his mission of perfecting himself be helped by a sense of accomplishment brought on by equipment? Especially equipment that he won’t be keeping and continuing to use?

Am I just making up arguments to convince myself that it’s okay to take it myself?

Why is it wrong to want to be important to the group, especially if it means shouldering serious risks?

ARGH. This is just like that time when I failed the examination for the Corps. His eyes were sad, why? “Be wary of wanting the right things for the wrong reasons” he’d said, and NEVER explained it. Why they never explain… Infuriating!

I can’t think straight. I will pray to Abadar for guidance, and see if my dreams are any more revealing than this maze of thought.

That guy in Iron Town

When the party returns to Iron Town, they find that Firkul has found two possible allies. One decides that ogres sound too dangerous, but Gilly persuades Errol Winthrop that he should come to help the village.

Errol is considered rather eccentric by everyone who knows him. Fun-loving and adventure seeking, he is currently travelling alone during his Wanderjahr because none of his friends are willing to take on the risks that he actively seeks out.

When the PC’s met him, he was debating between accepting their offer and another offer to capture giant spiders.

Errol is a short but solidly built human, with flaming red hair. His skin is shockingly dark for a red head. Even more startling is the gear that he carries. Various jars, flasks, tubes and bottles hang off of him, attached at every conceivable point. Every time he sits down, it is slightly surprising that there is not the sound of glass breaking.

As the party travelled with him from Atur to Garlek, they were attacked by some giant spiders. While Error carries a crossbow, he did not use it during the battle. Instead, he poured the contents of a vial into a bottle and threw it at one of the spiders. The bottle shattered when it hit the spider and its contents burst into flame. A bit of it even splashed onto the neighboring spider.

After the battle was finished, he went down and examined the spider corpses. He extracted part of one and put it into one of his many containers. He mentions that he might have time before the ogres strike to convert into a poison adequate for applying to a weapon. He also has some Terinav root that is almost finished. It is a contact poison and could be applied to the palisade. He does note that it is slower acting than the spider poison.

He has also brewed a few concoctions that could be useful for Maral and Dolg. He has two droughts that will make them larger and stronger, although somewhat less nimble. He also has an oil that can be applied to a weapon that makes it more effective against chaotic opponents. While some of the benefits are not likely to matter when fighting ogres, it does grant the ability to automatically confirm a critical hit.

17-Feb (Gilly)
A morning conversation

When I found myself awake early, I thought I’d have a chance to write down some of our recent activity. No such luck. Maral was already up, clearly agonizing about something. When I asked him, he explained it was about this helm, and whether he should wear it in the upcoming fight, or Dolg should. And he was obsessing about it! He had twenty arguments both ways, and most of them were psychological instead of about potential town defense strategy.

I listened, cause that’s what I do best, and it was a total mess. I thought he was sticking up for himself, growing a spine, and it deserved encouragement. I should have realized earlier where this was headed. Fortunately, he had several more rambles about the obfuscations of the Corps, which gave me time to collect my thoughts and hit on what would hopefully be the right line of questioning. I could tell he wouldn’t take well to being told what to do, even though he was asking my advice.

“Maral?” ‘Yes, Gilly?’ “You trust your uncle Thosun, right? He’s a good guy, and he’s looking out for you?” ‘Of course.’ “And if you had him here, you’d ask his advice, and take it?” ‘I suppose … yes.’ “Well, remember that he was worried about you, that you would fall in love with a commander, try desperately to impress him, take some crazy unwarranted risk and get yourself killed.” ‘Now, Gilly -’ “AND that’s why he asked me to travel with you, to make that not happen. So you need to ask yourself: is it more likely that you’d go in wearing the helm, feeling like you could take on the whole tribe yourself, and get killed trying to be more of the fight than makes sense? Or that you’d go in next to Dolg wearing it, and overstretch yourself trying to keep pace when he’s taking down ogres, and get killed that way?” ’What’s that supposed to mean? What are you trying to get at here?’ “Calm down, Maral. I’m not saying you should wear it, I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I am saying that that’s more important than whether Dolg cares as much about the village as you do, and whether your passion or his collectedness would serve the battle better, and all the rest of it. That’s the question you haven’t been asking, and the one you need to be asking. That’s what your uncle would want.” ‘… You’re right. I should.’

I left him to mull that over and went to fetch a bit of porridge before reviewing the locations I’d been casing for launching sneak attack crossbow shots. And the escape routes, of course. We still don’t know how many ogres are coming, and they just might not blunder into all our little traps. Always good to have a backup plan, even if some of my compatriots don’t want to admit it.

24-Feb (Gilly)
Sleeping and waking

Gilly spread her wings, catching the breeze. Flying was more a matter of Will than flapping, but using the muscles was pleasing enough. The sunlight was delightfully warm, and made her scales shine their burnished gold. Below, a few shepherds gazed up in wonder before running to attend to their flocks, which fled at her approach. < Which of them is the wiser >, she thought. Triumphant in her dominion, she briefly reviewed the array of magics at her disposal, then joyfully breathed a great gout of flame at nothing. Ahead, a tower came into view beyond trees. Ah, home sweet home she thought, and went into a swooping dive. The wind rushed past her, filling her ears with its roar, which woke her up.

Gilly awoke with a start, the darkness and quiet of the darkened room a sharp contrast to the sunlit flight. The dream again. And the words, bubbling up from her throat, words she’d never heard before. Ordinary words, < bread >, < blue-green >, < devour >, and other words, words of power. And her fingertips itched. Why- she glanced down and stifled a gasp. Without a sound, the claws retracted, leaving her fingers as they were. She looked worriedly at her bed companion. Still asleep, thank goodness. Seeji had been kind and … eager to please. Definitely a good choice for last night. Unlike poor Maral, she laughed to herself, who looked bewildered and stressed at the attentions of three different dwarven ladies, and clumsily left the party alone. Perhaps in the morning Seeji would be amenable to…

Stop trying to distract yourself, Gilly told herself. You’ve got to take control of this. First, to keep the claws thing from happening unless you want it. Then to figure out what this language is… probably Draconic? Then…

Ancient Prophecies
Among the musty scrolls

When the party returns to Atur, they check in with Kalzan to see what he has learned about the przywrócenie niszczyciel.

He has found three references to the term. All of them are in manuscripts over a thousand years old. (Actually, copies of manuscripts where the original is that old.) None are in infernal, so they are missing the context that would most obviously clarify the meaning of the phrase.

Two of the references are very brief and clearly expect that the reader knows what the przywrócenie niszczyciel is. They seem to indicate that the przywrócenie niszczyciel is a person who will live at some time in the future.

The third has more detail. The przywrócenie niszczyciel will arrive and play a crucial role during some major change or transition. The transition will happen regardless of his (her?) actions, but the przywrócenie niszczyciel will be crucial in determining how the change happens and what direction it takes. There is also a vague reference linking the przywrócenie niszczyciel with the Fulcrum.

A task for Kalzan

When the party picks up the information about the przywrócenie niszczyciel, Kalzan also has a request for the party.

There are certain fungi that grow in the caves in the Ironroot Mountains that are best picked at certain times of the year. One specific type has just come into season. For the next four weeks, it should be possible to find caves not far into the Ironroot Mountains that contain the fungi. After that, it will still be possible to collect it, but that will require going deeper into the mountains and thus be more dangerous.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.