KingMaker: Rise of the Dawn Lords

Troll Trashing

The party at the troll lair comes up with another cunning plan™,
we use a combination of burning oil, ghost sounds, and an illusion of a Fire Elemental to distract and (hopefully) frighten the trolls, allowing Alastrina to try to escape from the ritual she was about to be an ingredient in.
The ruse works, and Alastrina manages to escape to the cave mouth, as the remainder of the party fights off 3 trolls that come after us.
We manage to pull back from the cave mouth, and cast grease and mists in the entrance,
to insure our escape while the trolls immitate the Keystone Cops routine (google it)

We manage to make it back to Oleg’s,
but at the trading post are surprise attacked at night by a group of thugs out to collect the bounty on our heads (from the Stag Lord).
all the attackers are killed, amidst great battles and screeching eagles.

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Kashikoi's Book of Secrets, Entry 2

Hello again book! Did you miss me? Aww, of course you did! I’ve been thinking about you a lot. No, really. I’ve just been busy, you know. I’ve had important fox business to do.

Now, listen:

A while back the most amazing thing happened.

I opened this jar full of glittering, glowy stuff, and it made light shoot out of my butt.

Well, light shot out from every orifice, but especially my butt. And I floated and spun around. It was crazy.

Some of the others were jealous. They should be. Who could blame them? (Well, I can, of course, but I’m being rhetorical, book.) Everyone wants to be able to shoot shafts of glorious radiance out of their butts. And I got my chance. It was my moment to shine. And they were looking at me all like, “How come HE gets to have light shoot out of his butt, and I don’t? It’s not fair!”

Well, life isn’t fair, kids. It’s is a game of chance. I took a chance, and I got to have light shoot out of my butt.

Moral of the story: When life hands you a jar of glowy, glittery stuff, you gab and open it. Then you blast shafts of light out of your keister as you spin around.

Afterwards I felt tingly all over, and then some wonderful things started to happen.

No one remembers me or what I do unless I want them to, for one. Some people want to be remembered, but that can be such an inconvenience.

I mean: No evidence. No crime. More fun.

It doesn’t work all the time, but hey… nothing is perfect.

And I also feel really lucky and that I have a sense of purpose. I feel like I can make a real difference.

You know when you see someone standing on the edge of a precipice, and you get this mental image of someone just pushing that bastard off while yelling, “HA! HA! SUCKER!!!”? Well, you know, you can’t let life just pass you by. It’s likely (though nothing is certain) that no one is just going to go and push him off for you. You have got to step up. Take responsibility. Sneak up behind that unsuspecting S.O.B., and PUSH!

Some things in life have got to be done, and it’s up to you to make things happen. I realize that now.

Sometimes you’ve just got to grab life by the lapels and yell at it, “I DIDN’T ORDER MUTTON! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS BRINGING ME MUTTON! I ORDERED THE DAMNED SPICED CHICKEN WITH NUTS! WHAT?! I KNOW THAT I AM ALLERGIC TO NUTS! JUST FUCKING BRING ME THE GODDAMNED CHICKEN! I’M A PAYING CUSTOMER! THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT! IF I WANT TO EAT NUTS AND GO INTO A SEIZURE THEN, DAMNIT, LET ME HAVE MY FUCKING SPICY CHICKEN NUT SEIZURE!!!”

You know?

When I was just a pup, my mother once told me some words of wisdom conveyed to her by some old nobody she once hoodwinked. She said, “Jizanthuhpus (she’d call me by a different name every day, it was very confusing), life—life is like a big, plump zit on the world’s ass. And it is ripe, pulsing, throbbing, and just waiting for some crazy monkey to just come along and pop it. And unless some crazy monkey comes along and does, that zit is just going to throb and mock you and just be a big pain in the ass. YOU need to be that monkey. Kashikoi, POP THE ZIT! BE THAT MONKEY! Now, drink your milk.”

As I drank my milk, which tasted kinda funny, I thought about what she had said as I sipped it, and then, when I got to the bottom of the glass, I saw that she had dropped a chunk of turd in my milk. Mom was such a prankster. But that turd made the true meaning of the statement hit me. POP THE ZIT! BE THE MONKEY!

I never knew who my real dad was.

My mom said she wasn’t sure herself. Mom “got around.” A lot. But that it didn’t matter. Anyone I wanted to be my dad, she said, could be my dad. Just think, she said, of all the kids who are miserable being stuck with just one dad. You get to pick and choose and have different dads. One for each day of the week, or mood even! What freedom!

Made sense to me. Mom could be very persuasive.

All I had to do, she said, was put on some nice clothes that looked a little dirty and ragged, follow some guy around, look really sad and pathetic, and whenever he looked at me stretch out my arms and cry, “DADDY!” If I kept this up then eventually, she said, he’d give in and take care of me, at least for a while. That or sell me into slavery. But hey, she’d say, ADVENTURE!

She wouldn’t let me be sold into slavery. Not mom. She’d come and get me. Eventually. If she remembered. Mom was kinda flighty, but she’d always come through in the end.

She let me pick and choose dads until times got tough and we needed money. Then she went through different men she had been “familiar” with (mom got around) from different villages. When one would eventually kick us out, she’d go after another, showing me to him, saying that I was his, and playing it up real good, getting a lot of stuff from him. Nice clothes, free meals, a warm, soft place to stay, for a time.

Her performance was very dramatic. You should have seen her cry and listened to her tragic stories. She was good at it. I half believed it myself. The first few times, I bought it hook, line, and sinker. Each time the story was totally different. Mom was very creative and a great storyteller.

Confused little Kashikoi. “Wait, so this is my real dad?” “Do you want me to say ‘yes,’ my darling little pup? Then, yes, if what is ‘real’ is what you want to believe. And for so many people, you will learn, it is. Now, be quiet and drink your milk.”

I dumped out the milk that time. There was nothing wrong with it. No turd. She looked at me sidelong as she combined her hair and smiled her pretty, cunning, knowing smile. No milk that night.

It wasn’t as if my so-called fathers weren’t getting anything out of it. She had those kind, smiling eyes which were full of life. Even though my “dads” usually ended up really mad and chasing us out while brandishing a cleaver or something, calling us all sorts of names. We thought it was funny.

Mom could often tell when it was time to make scarce. But, you know, I remember that those men were happy while she was around. They had dreamy smiles the whole time and laughed a lot.

She never took someone for everything he or she had, unless he or she deserved it or if she were in a particularly bad mood for some reason. But even then, after, if they didn’t deserve it, she’d make it up somehow, acquiring something precious from some greedy or malicious jerk and relocating it under “dad’s” pillow as a gift or something like that. Of course, those gifts always managed to cause some trouble, but it usually worked out in the end, as if by magic.

I learned a lot. There was a blacksmith, a banker, some fat guy who owned a tavern. I didn’t like the way fat guy smelled, and he tried to get handsy with me, so I had to bite him. He had one less finger after that. And when mom found out, he ended up with one less of something else that he had only one of to begin with. But he made the best pasta I’ve ever eaten, so, you know, it’s give and take.

I learned how to lie really well and get what I wanted from each of them. Some of them were actually nice.

But, you know, we always had to leave. Sooner or later they’d learn the truth. We were foxes, and no, you aren’t the dad. Or probably not, anyway. Surprise?

Some people have no sense of humor.

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Troll Tromp

Our hunting party sets out for exploration, and in hopes of finding the Trolls that have been infesting the area.
When we get to the Thorn River Bandit Camp (as seen previously), our scouts see a 12 man Bandit Raiding party in the camp!
We set a cunning ambush™ and are able to kill all but the leader, who was staggered and knocked out by Finn.
The leader is Akiros, a former paladin of Erastil, who fell from grace and joined the Stag Lord.
Despite this, he wants the Stag Lord dead, and would rather die than go back to the bandits.
We decide to take him to Jhod at the temple of Erastil, and allow them to decide on Akiros’ fate.

We journey on, and are ambushed by 3 massive Trolls!
Finn manages to intimidate one, while Kratina casts grease and fells another, and Aria and Villi charge in.
Two of the trolls are quickly killed, but the third grabs Alistrina and runs off with her.
We easily follow the trolls trail back to a cave complex that seems to be their lair,
but when we sneak inside, we find a further 10 trolls gatheres around a Troll Shaman who is conducting a ritual over Alistrina, and obviously has the same Mythic power aura as the Stag Lord! (Garbald the Great)

The other half of the party was exploring and finds a revanant guarding a river crossing, who wants the Stag Lord’s body, and will grant us treasure if we bring him the body

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Gassy Wurms and Odd Happenings
Season 1 Episode 9

Traveling on, we find the lair of the Tatzylwyrm at a ford in the river,
but the Wyrm sees us at the same time!
One charges at the party while a second one starts out of the lair.
The lead Wyrm belches forth a cloud of noxious vapors at Aria,
but luckily she is smart enough to hold her breath and is unaffected by the gasses,
The Wryms claw attacks, however, find their mark and dig into Aria’s flesh.
The two Wryms are killed in a brief but bloody battle,
and Aria is struck down and lies bleeding,
to be rescues by Lauren (again).
Exploration of the lair reveals several bodies stuffed amongst the trees and brush,
one wearing a suit of Scale mail that shows no signs of tarnish or rot,
(again, we assume it is magic)
Villi suits up in the new armour, and finds that it is indeed magic (+1)!
We also find some gold, silver, gems, and a scroll case with a map of the area we just finished mapping.

The next day we explore out onto the plains, and find a glade with some long ruined buildings,
and the Statue of Erastil, which radiates strong magic.
Villi offers oblations to the statue, and is blessed with “Keen Edge” for 1 week.
The rogues investigate the statue, and find a secret compartment in the base!
Inside are 6 jars (canoptic in appearance), one of which is glowing and glimmering.

While the party is discussing the find,
Kashikoi opens the glowing jar, and is engulfed in a cloud of brillient energy,
which then seems to absorb into him, and erupt forth again from mouth and ears and eyes,
while he floats several feet above the ground!
He has been blessed by the power of the devine, and is now Mythic!

At the same time as Kashikoi drops to the ground and regains consciousness,
a meteor streaks overhead, crashing into the woods to the south.
An obvious omen, so we head back south to try to find the star stone.

We are able to find the impact site of the meteor,
where we find a medium sized but VERY lightweight stone of unknown matterial.
The impact crater is in the woods, and next to a foul smelling pond,
where a months dead unicorn also lies.
The unicorn’s horn has been ripped off, and examination of the body shows its
eyes are smokey white, indicative that the unicorn was blinded before its death.
Villi prepares a funeral pyre for the unicorn, and we help him.
The spirit of the unicorn ascends from the burning pyre, and tells us
“beware the purest corrupt beauty’, then says “she comes!”.
We discuss these odd happenings, and think this could be corrupted nymph,
so quickly head back north.

On the way back to Oleg’s, we discover a trapper, caught in his own deadfall, and dead for weeks at least. Investigations shows that someone seems to have tripped the trap while the trapper was finishing it.
Grigg appears and admits he had done this to protect the woodland animals.
On the body is a nice axe, and a sketch of Bokken,
so we figure this is Bokken’s brother, who Bokken wanted us to find.

Further up the river, we are attacked by a living amalgamation of plant life and decayed vegetation,
the Shambling Mound of Arrrrgggghhhh!
Another brief but deadly battle erupts, and the vegie-creature is diced sliced and minced,
but Aria lays dieing (again) and is saved by Lauren (again).

We return to the Temple of Erastil and tell Jhod of the statue we have found,
then procede to Oleg’s.
We collect the rewards for the Tatzlwyrms,
and start to examine the meteor.
While we are studying the rock,
it splits open and a magical energy coalesces into a Katana, which floats
stright to Finn’s hand! His Magus weapon has found him!

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Kashikoi's Book of Secrets, Entry 1

Hello book.

I think we are going to be the bestest of friends. I talk. You listen. Or, rather: I write. You absorb the ink. It’s kismet!

The small one doesn’t know it, but he snores. I am sorely tempted to make up a song about it relating to his singing and music. You know, how the music he makes while asleep is superior to the music he makes while awake. But I think he’s the type to smolder and stew until he decides to do something foolish. There are a number of those in this pack.

The big one likes to rub dung. He is strong, but completely irrational and not too bright. First he talks about how killing is great, and then he gets all freaked out when somebody kills a bandit who was dying anyway. Completely. Nuts. One silver short of a gold piece, and things rattling loose in the attic. I really like him.

There’s a cat lady. She’s nice enough… for a cat. And then there’s one who takes herself too seriously. I’ve had to bite my lip so much I’m developing a condition. Ending up on the wrong end of that sword… She’s deadly. Of course, it could be fun playing dodge-the-blows while making quips. I bet she turns the most lovely shade of red.

Then there is that angel who I suspect is a real slut. But I’d never tell her that either. For different reasons. She’s quite helpful in a pinch. And nice. Who am I to judge?

Slut.

A squirrel came to visit me today. I gave him a nut that I had soaked in wine. He got drunk. We talked. They are such chatterboxes. He told me all sorts of interesting things. Secret things. What? No. I cannot tell you. We’ve just met each other, book. Don’t be so melodramatic. Trust takes time. How do I know you won’t go bragging to a copy of Gramalkin’s Formidable Tome of Pernicious Magics about the things I tell you? You tell him, he tells Baudy Tales of the Saucy Wench Vol. III, and so-on, and so-on. That’s how vicious rumors get started and things end up posted on a scroll in the town square. Loose lips sink ships. Or loose leaf sinks…? Note to self: come up with something that sinks that rhymes with leaf and is related to paper and indicative of disaster.

Loose leaf brings grief? Hm. I’ll work on it.

There are others. There is the silent one who blends in shadows. He likes killing too much. You didn’t know Wolfie, but Wolfie liked to kill too much too. Poor wolfie. Although, it was pretty funny when he got caught in that trap going after chickens. As he was trotting toward the coop, he was lecturing me, you see, telling me I didn’t take things seriously enough, and that one day I’d get my leg caught in a trap. Then, SNAP!

Good times, Wolfie. Good times.

But, Wolfie, served you right. I didn’t enjoy putting you down. Although, you should have seen the look on your face. Totally worth the price of admission. You couldn’t believe I’d do it. Well, surprise! Couldn’t have you limping around like that your whole life. What kind of killer would you be then? No. It was for your own good. Spare the sword, spoil the natural-born killer. For your own good, Wolfie. I am sure you’re now murdering mountains of rabbits with your bare teeth in some kind of wolf heaven.

The shadow person would have liked it, I bet. Just like you would have if the shoe were on the other foot… or the trap on the other hind-leg. You’d have done the same to me and enjoyed it. Come to think of it, you were a real bastard, Wolfie. I am glad you’re dead.

The dark magician was turned into a pin cushion… again. Seriously, arrows love this guy. Well, I shouldn’t say guy. He’s no longer a guy. And he’s no longer human. I am sorely tempted to ask him his current opinions on race and gender issues, as this sort of experience can be truly transformative of one’s world-view… along with other things. Don’t go there, book. I will not have my journal filled with tawdriness.

I wonder what it’s going to be like when he first experiences menstrual cramps? Is he going to ask the other females about it? I should be kind. Poor fellow, er, Lady. Perhaps I’ll come up with a haiku to cheer him… her… up.

Speaking of shooting, this stupid hand crossbow is worse than worthless. It’s probably cursed, because I know it can’t be my aim. I’m a great shot! No, really! What? Are you calling me a liar, book? Maybe I should rip out a few of your pages…

Aw, don’t be like that! I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do that to a friend. Really. No. Hey, Wolfie had it coming. I’m glad I set that trap. I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it, either.

Anyway, I think my enemies are safer with me aiming at them than somewhere else. Note to self: while in battle, try aiming at comrades. May increase chances of hitting foes.

There are others in this pack worthy of comment (although, isn’t everyone? life is full of wonders!), but I am getting tired.

Why must people take themselves so seriously? Everyone should be foxes. But, then, maybe that would get boring?

Stars are out and singing to me. I’ve been in this human form for so long. I need to take off these clothes, change back, and run on all fours through the woods. Maybe catch something small, warm, and juicy. It’s been a while since I’ve had something alive and fighting for its life between my jaws. I miss the taste of fresh blood.

At times like this, I actually miss Wolfie.

Psh. No time for sad nostalgia. The moon is beautiful and bright, and the trees are calling!

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Kratina Journal Entry

My memories since my reincarnation are patchy at best—my previous life now exists as small islands of partial clarity within an ocean of vast fog.

I remember awakening in this form, alien to me, with the scenario of my death vivified before my eyes. It comes to me now and again, unbidden in my quiet moments, sometimes as I converse with others or, for instance, when I stand before a door. The one in the stag helmet drawing back the bow, his eyes upon me, his gaze an unyielding wave of pressure locking me in place. An arrow, as if in slow motion, moving inexorably toward me. The blackness. The pit. Laughing, mocking eyes glinting in a field of sickening, roiling pitch. Claws reaching. Wet mouths, closer. The air wavering from the heat of their breath, distorting my vision. Burning. And then the wrathful screams as they were denied, betrayed, as I was pulled from them, back to life into this ugly, foreign body.

I will see the so-called Stag Lord dead for this, one way or another. He will, no doubt, go to the pits or the abyss. Good. The thought of him in eternal agony warms me.

Before I became aware of this body, I felt myself somehow fundamentally changed, beyond the physical. In being ripped from death back into life, something has been ripped from me. I feel an emptiness, and this emptiness makes me sick. Though alive, I feel closer to death—frail, as if I could be undone by a small cold or perhaps improperly cooked food. The world feels colder. I often shiver. I find this experience surpassing strange, because this body is physically stronger than I remember the other to be. Perhaps it’s just the orcish blood.

The healer said that this experience is normal, and that there are restorative magics which may remedy my condition. I feel, however, forever changed. Perhaps what was mine now belongs to the denizens of that pit. I do not know.

That which I relied upon so heavily to gain power and favor in this world, the charm I had since birth, is greatly diminished. In its place, however, I sense a burgeoning intellect more powerful than what I had. (Ironic for an orc, I suspect some cosmic joke in this.)

Through a series of treatments, sponsored by the tavern wench who is beholden to me for my efforts on her behalf and on that of her late husband, I have re-acquired some of the power I had. (I long to repay her and be done with the obligation. I detest being beholden to others for anything.) Alchemical and magical changes in my blood have allowed me to rely on this new intellect where once I could rely on the powers of personal magnetism.

Though it caused me great pain and personal effort, I have trained myself to become functional again. I have given no small amount of thought to my failings, my strengths and weaknesses, and what led me to the blunders which had caused my death and near death from arrows (cursed arrows! well, if they are so effective perhaps I should return some favors in kind?). Though my memory of the past is unreliable, I can recall enough to learn from some mistakes. I believe I shall find myself greatly improved as a result of these tragically farcical events my life of so-called adventure has brought me.

Death by arrows. Being smeared with dung by an unwashed barbarian. (My father would have had him flayed alive and me severely beaten if I had allowed such a thing to happen when I was child.) Orcish! Such indignities! My masculinity and my former life have been taken from me. Somewhere a cosmic power is laughing.

No matter. That which adapts thrives. Some may call these events the result of chance, but that is naive. The universe is ordered. All things happen for a reason. The greatest will obtains, forces reality into the shape it desires. It is ultimately my will that brought me back, and the actions of all involved are in service of my ultimate destiny.

Though some power may find amusement in my suffering as I endure these trials, I will overcome. In the end, it is I who will be laughing as they suffer at my pleasure.

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Werewolves and OwlBears and Bogards, oh my!
Season 1 Episode 8

While in Restov after arranging Krato’s reincarnation,
Our Gang is brought before the Sword Lords of Restov.
We are questioned about the Stag Lord, and charged with killing him and ridding the Greenbelt of his foul influence. The reward for doing so will be a Royal Charter to found a Colony,
and Right of Expanded Territory to claim.

We of course accept, and stock up on goods and magics unavailable in the wilderness.

Back at Oleg’s, we find a larger gathering of trappers,
as they have been driven from the woods by “the living forest” (a Shambling Mound we think),
and attacked by a pack of 3 Trolls.
Jhod tells us he has been having visions of a statue of Erastil somewhere to the west,
and asks us to find it so he can restore/protect it.

We also find out the Stag Lord is the son of a priest of Erastil,
who found his helmet in the Keep when he first started as a Bandit.

It is too soon, and we are too weak, to attack the Stag Lord yet,
so we arrange an exploration foray, in search of the Statue of Erastil.

Whaile traveling through the western woods and mapping the territory,
we are attacked one night by a pack of WereWolves!
The 4 shapechangers are killed, but Villi and Aria are badly mauled.
(But healed by Lauren)
The bodies and clothing appear to be of the River Kingdoms,
so hopefully there are no more Werewolves in the area.

Mapping still further to the West,
we find an ancient barbarian cairn,
long in disrepair.
Exploration yields us a carved wooden ring, with no signs of decay,
in the shape of an eel and frog…
none of us have the ability to detect magic, but we are convinced it is.

Back into the woods to the south, and we encounter Tig the Grigg and Perlivash the
Fairy Dragon again! We have a small party with them,
(Mead, wine, and sweets being their favorites)
and they tell us there is indeed a Shambling Mound in the area,
but also 3 Trolls rampaging about,
and an OwlBear further south that is attacking Kobolds of SootScale’s (our) tribe.
We ask about the Statue of Erastil, and they give us rough directions to it.
In the morning they are gone,
along with most of our mead,
and we head south to look for the OwlBear.

We come upon a marsh along the east side of the river,
inhabited by an odd creature we find out is a Bogard – a toad-like humanoid.
He also has a large pet/guard toad.
We arrange a truce with him, as he is banished from his tribe
in the RiverKingdoms due to him being peaceful.
He trades us some gems for steel and oil, and we head further south.

We find a pit trap, apparently dug for a large creature, with a
trapped phyloscene (tasmanian tiger) in it.
We manage to get it out by lowering trees it can climb up,
and it runs away just as a large OwlBear comes charging at us!
A brief fight ensues, and the creature is slain.
The claws and beak of the OwlBear are harvested, to be used in later scenes.

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BushWhacking Bandits and Raider Receptions

1) Our Gang sets up ana ambush at the burning fangberry bushes,
hoping to trap afew bandits, and slowly whittle their numbers down.
Villi makes a fake camp with “bodies sleeping”,
we set watch, and wait to see!

Villi and Lauren are on 3rd watch,
as a small group of bandits is seen sneaking up on the false camp.
Lauren casts sleep, felling 2 of them, Villi starts shooting others,
while the sounds of combat awaken the remainder of the party.
Krato and Aria manage to take out 2 more, and Villi
drops the last visible one with an arrow.

Several other bandits are heard on the periphery,
but manage to escape our trap!
Even Villi is unable to track them…

Questioning the captives reveals that there were about 50 bandit grunts,
with 7 “Favored Warriors” and
3 “Lieutenants” (We are able to get the names of the Lieutenants)
We also learn that the Keep has a high wooden palisade around it,
and that the hillside approach is protected by “undead”.

2) On the way back to Oleg’s, we come across signs of wild Boar,
which allows Somar to track down the lair of the Rogue Boar, TuskGutter.
Krato, Aria, Villi, and Somar are able to set an ambush,
which lures the boar in to its quick demise!
TuskGutter’s head is added to our lists of trophies,
and the rest of the meat is prepped for smoking!

3) Once back at Oleg’s, we are able to start colating all our looted equipment,
but without a local buyer we can olny get 20% of value,
so we add it to our supply tent.
We give the head of TuskGutter to Vekkel Benze and collect our reward
(masterwork longbow, 6x (+1) Animal Bane arrows)

The next day out of a calm still morning comes the cry of a lookout on Oleg’s parapet;
Bandit Raid!!
Some 20 mounted bandits charge the gate of Oleg’s,
with the Stag Lord himself urging them on from behind them.
The men at arms quickly man the catapults, and are able to kill a few bandits.
Others quickly close and bar the Gate,, with Aria and Lauren backing them up,
awaiting anyone who breaks through.
The bandits do break open the gate, but Lauren is able to sleep 7 of them and Aria quickly eradicates the remainder.
From the parapet, Chloe summons Eagle after Eagle, with 4 total attacking the bandits and taking out several.
Kesten and Villi charge into the melee in front of the gate,
while Krato and others continue to rain magic missiles and arrows into the raiders.
The Stag Lord takes offense at our archers, and with unnatural ease shoots down
several of the Men at Arms, as well as shooting an arrow cleanly through the skull of Krato.
Villi charges the Stag Lord in rage, but despite several good hits seems to be doing far less damage than expected.
The Eagles also get several successful hits on the Stag Lord,
but seem to do no damage…
Kesten closes on the Stag Lord as the last few bandits die,
and Finn brings a healing potion to Villi, as Lauren is still in the Keep.
(Villi had survived brutal blows from the Stag Lord that would have cut others in twain.)
The Stag Lord takes in the concentrated attacks of Our Gang without apparent injury,
but turns and heads back into the woods, yelling defiance at us, and challenging us to
attack him at his Keep.

Some 20 Bandits lie dead or dieing on the grounds before the gate house,
(bringing the total number of bandits killed to some 40-45
20 here
10 at Kressel’s camp
4 in the initial attack on Oleg’s
5 at our ambush at the burning bushes
2 when we were attacked at night at the ford
and I think 2 others, cant remember where)
as well as all the men at arms, Krato, and Oleg (killed by a stray arrow).

The party decides to try to save Krato,
and a small group heads to Restov with enough gold to pay for a Reincarnation spell,
the spell seems to work, but it is almost a month before Krato returns to Oleg’s,
and as a Half-Orc!

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A Journey Begins
Season 1 Cutscene


     Jhod Kavken brushed several branches from his path as he moved through the dense foliage of the Greenbelt. Thick and dark, travel was difficult for Jhod and he stumbled over a fallen log falling unceremoniously to the damp earth. Cursing softly at his carelessness Jhod looked up to see an elegant, 15-foot-tall statue of Erastil rising as a solitary guardian within the forest.

     Jhod brushed himself off and took in his surroundings. An old, run down hunter’s lodge stood within the trees and the entire area gave off a sense of peace. The land surrounding the lodge and statue appeared well traveled. Several shrubs dotted the area and a small creeping vine was beginning to take root among the firewood pile. The statue looked new. The metal was clearly crafted by a master and the stonework on the base was elegant.

     Jhod stared at the statue. It seemed important to him but he couldn’t identify why this was so. As he mused over this, the statue turned it’s head and looked directly at him. Jhod was transfixed. He didn’t feel threatened and the fact that the statue moved didn’t frighten him at all. The mouth of the statue opened and it spoke.

     Jhod woke with a start. He was laying inside the ruined temple that he was restoring. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Jhod quietly got up and walked to the temple entrance. He leaned against the wall and looked out into the courtyard, watching the clear pond ripple as first rays of light pierced the darkness of the forest.

     The voice echoed within his mind. “Bring them to me.” Jhod knew what he had to do.

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Back to the Berries
Season 1 Episode 6

One group of adventurers heads to the unexplored lands South and East of Oleg’s,
to continue mapping and exploring our new lands.

A evident ambush area is seen before being entered (this time)
and the trap is foiled by throwing rocks at an apparent trap door in the grass.
A large spider darts out, looks confusedly at the rock, then heads back into his hole.
He is lured out once again by a well placed thrown rock,
and before he can dodge back into his hole, the spider is skewered with arrows and killed.
Not much found in the hole, but skeletons and webs.
One body had a Amulet of the Stag Lord (our 3rd one found on bandits).

A day further south, the party runs into a pack of odd dog-like creatures,
which Senestra manages to calm and keep from attacking.
The group continues on with more mapping,
to the grumbles of Chloe lamenting his loss of new creature body fluids and parts
(especially gallstones).

The other half of the group heads to the South West,
mapping and trying to find the FangBerry bushes.

An old rope and rotten timbered hanging bridge leads across a rapid wide river along our path…
we go across one at a time, with the first person taking one end of a rope
to help secure subsequent characters.
All is going fine ‘till Es’Lauren’s mule stumbles in mid bridge,
breaking through both floorboards and rope support.
The poor mule is washed away to its death,
along with a large amount of our curred meats and camping gear.

Lauren and Villi are trapped on the eastern side of the river,
and continue down the east bank while the others stay close to the west bank.
We meet up towards the end of the day at a shallow ford where we are able to cross easily.

Camp is set, and watches stood…
2 bandits happen on our camp during the dark night;
The bandits loose their bows and Krato falls injured, but has managed to raise the alarm.
While our Rogues sneak foreward in the dark to surprise the bandits,
Villi and Aria charge headlong into the fray,
killing both bandits!

The next day we head northwest towards the FangBerries,
and find a large patch of them!
The bushes have thick and sharp thorns and brambles,
and we were warned about spiders guarding them,
so we try to get Lauren close enough to pick the berries using her Mage’s Hand cantrip.
She is able to start harvesting the berries, but even that slight movement
of the bushes triggers an ambush by swarms of spiders!
Lauren, Villi, and Finn are caught in the swarm,
and try to fall back while attacking the spiders.
We try burning oil as well as sharp steel, but do to bad dice rolls,
really just manage to set the bushes on fire…
The swarm is finally stopped and dispersed,
and we manage to pick the required amount of berries for Mad Bokken.

As we prepare for nightfall,
we wonder if the smoke plume will lead a few more bandit scouts our way…
hmmmm… plans begin to simmer.

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