Dungeons and Dragons 5th Ed
1st Session
A Walk to the Village
Saturday 17th November D&D Round Up
DM: Old Man John
Players: Jason, Leslie, Mic and Pat
Characters (in order): Druid, Bard, Ranger, Barbarian
This is written all from the perspective of the GM so it
will be, well who knows, eclectic to be sure.
You will find elsewhere in this blog a short story for the
backdrop to this campaign. The day
started with the lads arriving and fleshing out their characters. The usual banter perused. Mic earned himself some bonus points for
seeking out James (the cat) when he discovered that one lived at the premises
(that was me asking where James was, it was hot on Saturday, we had a decent
Storm just after we called it quits for the day). Mic learnt that using all his good rolls for
character creation might have not been the wisest of moves!
I started the group in the village. A random one I had
grabbed from an old TSR N1 Against the Cult of Reptile God. I couldn’t find my old Judges Guild book of
Villages (as usual) so I had to go on the fly.
Actually it is fairly standard with me when I GM away from home, I find
that I’m about to head off, remember I’ve forgotten something critical, and
then can’t find the bloody thing. Then
spend 30 minutes searching for it.
Arrive late, usually picking up someone along the way late, flustered,
etcetera etcetera. Then when I come home
I find the damn thing sitting usually in plain sight right where I should have
found it. Oh well.
Now what was I saying…
yes the village. It was there for
the benefit in case the players decided to actually do anything in the
place. I confess I was worried if they
did, but I was the master of working on the fly so I was prepared for
anything. Bullshit is my middle name; I
have several and swap them out as is needed – depending on the circumstances.
The nightmare of the starting group. No you do not meet in the local pub. The starting hook began with the druids
fellow aspirant coming to the village seeking his desperate return. The locals had returned to hurl some more
stones at the orc (yes it was an orc who had come to find the druid – did I
mention the druid was an half-orc). The
stage was set – what would happen?
Well the druid went to the aid of his downed druidic “classmate”
only then noticing that he had more than bruises and abrasions from hurled
rocks. The ranger decided that his
introduction to the group would be by coming to the aid of the orc, his background
made it that he did not take kindly to the indifferent treatment of others,
regardless of race. The Bard watched the
situation unfold… Our Barbarian, at the
Golden Grain Inn had decided to enjoy a well earned period of intoxication (he
gets drunk when given the chance), this was ruined by the commotion. He had
attempted to leave the Inn, mug in hand but was called back to return it.
The mob, a mixture of young children and adults had grown
surly at this treatment of the orc. They
had seen orcs as the enemy from the many times they had been raided over the
centuries. Someone in the crowd, most
likely a small child hurled a rock, narrowly missing the ranger (wow, did I
roll poorly – or did I?). This led to
the Ranger drawing his sword from his scabbard, the result – a stampede by the
locals away from the threat. Throwing
rocks at a helpless Orc is one thing, taking on a stranger armed and maybe
potentially dangerous is another.
We now had a stampede of locals retreating away from the
Druid, Ranger and the wounded Chog (you know the Orc messenger). The heroic Bard decided he didn’t quite know
what to do so did what most sheep did and followed the herd, safely at a
distance mind you.
Our Barbarian, having sheepishly returned his mug (well the
Inns mug in actuality) was surprised by the herd of locals (not sheep) rushing
away for the commotion he had been going to investigate. Nevertheless he decided he was still going to
see what was happening. The Bard,
slipped in behind and performed a magnificent performance of Marty Feldman from
Yellowbeard and slipped into the shadow of the Bard, almost unnoticed by all.
This is how the band of “heroes” came together, bonding over
the suspiciously wounded body of Chog the orcish messenger from the Druids
village. Trust between Druid and Ranger seemed to be
without question, the Barbarian took a while in making, as to the Bard… I guess
everyone is still trying to work him out.
A grove of elms across a stream provided some privacy in
which to treat Chog and take stock of the situation. It was there that Chog’s wounds were found to
be more serious than just the rocks.
Chog admitted he had been ambushed by some pathetic goblins which he had
dealt with. Killed some, driven the rest
off. When he was told he had taken some
blade wounds he shrugged, he had not noticed.
What’s a knick here and there to an orc, they all heal in time or you
drop dead. He’s not dead, so what’s the
deal. Then he paled, and passed out.
However, before all this was to occur the group was able to
ascertain the following. Their master
had called home his favoured student Grak.
The master henge in the village has been desecrated and something
important has been removed. Grak must
come back to the village of Tone’sum before the setting of the moon – four days
from now. The trip is estimated as three
days without significant interruption.
The group discuss matters.
They explore their characters “backgrounds” and how they are going to
pursue this goal. As a GM, thankfully there
is no hiccup in my “plans” (hang on, did I really have a plan, I thought I was
just winging it and hoping for the best – like I usually do!) Again the Druid and Ranger seem to have no
difficulty agreeing, the Barbarian is on board finally and the Bard, well he
escaping the village because of a misunderstanding with several wives, er no
sorry I got that worng husbands, that and the matter of some missing valuables.
Poor Chog is in a bad way.
The group decides to search for herbs and such that may help stave of
his inevitable death. For some reason
everyone thinks I’m going to kill poor Chog off (well he does die, he just
lasts longer than I anticipated). Due to
exceptional die rolling and “professional” care Chog survives the first
day. The night is when the trouble
comes. I thought, let’s try something
nice and simple – some cougars (panthers from the Monster Manual). The Ranger took the first watch. It was decided (by me) that the Ranger
clearly was an Urban wannabe, and couldn’t tell the difference between the
sound of an alley cat and that of a dangerous predator. That and his rolls were atrocious, honestly I
thought I was the king of poor die rolls, Mic I think took the cake that day –
though Jason was not far behind at times.
Three cougars almost killed the party that first night out. The druids Thunderwave came to the rescue,
though Chog was unfortunately in the area of affect. No one mentioned that in any afterward
conversations when Chogs name came up when they reached Tone’sum. Chog survived
that Thunderwave by the blessing of the Gods themselves you could say…
The end result was the Barbarian skinned himself some fine
cougar pelts… must look into the time factor there. The night went by with only the crickets to
keep them company. They believed that
the Druids Thunderwave must have driven off any wayward critters with the sonic
boom. Surely it would not have attracted
any sentient creatures to come investigate – surely…
The second day took them out of the forested area and into
the beginning of a flat grassland turning to streams and swamps. Foraging continued again. While the party ate from the land, the Druid
wisely ate the purchased foodstuffs that would have gone off in short
time. Moldy food in packs leads to rot
and all sorts of problems and infestations.
Very wise person this Druid.
Again the party defied the odds and scrounged to medicinal herbs
necessary to keep Chog alive. Chog is
surprised. GM is even more
surprised. Hence the nasty surprise for
that nights encounter!
Second night. Well
they didn’t get to night, they only got to setting up of camp in the last hours
of light. Some lumps of reasonable
stable and “dry” land had been found to set camp up on. The insect life was rife, midges and
mosquitoes were so plentiful they could almost have blocked out the sun (now
why didn’t I think of being this poetic at the time when I described the
setting). The party made some successful
rolls – all except the urban Ranger, who failed dismally. Yes they all spotted the Lizardmen paddling
down the creeks.
I shall not bore you with a blow by blow description of the
battle – but I will. No sod it, I won’t.
Poor Mic, I think he needs a better die.
The Bard sang off keys tunes that “enraged” (the opposite actually – but
I’m stirring Leslie at the moment of writing this) certain party members to
brilliance. He also contributed with Tasha’s
Hideous Laughter, leaving one bobbing around on the surface of the creek
tittering in whatever passes for reptilian laughter. The Druid responded with Entangle and his
favoured Thunderwave. The Barbarian
worked himself up into a rage and got his cleave activating quite nicely. When the opportunity presented itself, the
Bard would courageously dash forward and slit the throat of a helpless
opponent, ending their life. Of course
when this did not happen…
In the end, the lizardmen all died. Chog survived. The Barbarian wondered how to
skin the lizardmen for their skin… was it possible? Do they make good belts? Boots? Handbags?
The third day, the last day of travel, with just the night
to survive through. Surely Chog would
die…
No, Chog the immortal would live another day thanks to some remarkable die
rolling! That night the group entered
the hilly terrain leading to the area where the village was located. Traps were set (I should point out traps were
set every night – very cautious group these lads) and a watch made. The Urban Range failed to spot the small band
of Goblins advancing down the road, nobody else could miss it. (GM’s note: memory is a little hazy, I may be
getting a little be off hand with the bad luck Mic had with things, he may or
may not have missed the Goblins at this point in time, but for the point of a
good narrative I’m going with he did.)
The fight was “epic”! Finally weak monster that the group
could handle – bahahahahahahahaha!!!!!
The Druids curses at party members for ruining his kill zones. The Barbarian learning about Goblin bosses
switching places with underlings.
Sneaking ambushing hiding gits is just not on, how the ambushed dare be
ambushed – to a limited degree. How dare
the Barbarian be wounded by the weapon that is killing Chog by a million paper cuts? Oh the ignominy of it all. In the end though Goblins are just goblins
and they die. The cursed or magical
weapon is eagerly purloined by the Bard.
Maybe purloined is too hard a word, nobody else wanted it, so I guess it
was a “last hamster in the shop” prize.
His cackling and sounds of “my precious” may have been unsettling had it
been remotely true.
The Barbarian though was succumbing to the wounds of the
unnatural weapon. Grak the Druid knew it
would be too dangerous to attempt a night trek through the hills to reach the
village for help. It would be best to
stablise the Barbarian as best they could, hope he’d live to see the morning
and get the village Druid to help. The rota
was drawn up, but the Barbarian despite his wound still takes his shift, pride
refusing to let him show any weakness.
He fell asleep. The Ranger also
failed to let his internal clock wake him.
Only the Druid sensed anything amiss, waking with only a few hours
remaining till dawn. Seeing little
benefit in waking the actual shift holder, he waiting out the remaining
hours. In the dawning rays of sunrise,
the cold stiff corpse of Chog greeted the dismayed (well I hope they were)
party members.
Chog was not buried where he was found, he was carried to
the village a few hours away. The Barbarian
required some assistance as well, he also was not in the best of health. As they approached the village a delegation
of the village children came charging out, crying out praise and happiness at
seeing the return of Grak. Clearly Grak
is very well thought of in the village. Grak checked his belongings, his
pockets, pouches – for some reasons he did not trust his fellows. He did find some dead mice, frogs, rocks etcetera.
They were brought before the village Druid Choldis, a
venerable human of perhaps 60 to 70 years of age. Grak appears to share some passing similarity
with him, when the moon is in the right phase, or when the shadows cast the
right shade of grey, or when the stars or right (I think you get the gist of it). The Bard, ever the diplomat demands a hot
bath, to which he is given a hearty and welcoming laugh and pointed to the
local stream. “Some of the local ladies
may bath with you, will that make it hot enough for you?”
The fate of Chog is discussed and the Barbarians wound is
examined. Choldis is dismayed at Chogs
demise, more unsettled at the Barbarians wound and upon being given the weapon
which inflicted the foul wound, more unsettled (just as well they didn’t have a
castle built in a swamp). The Bard was
nonplussed about losing his new weapon and swiped a trinket on his way out of
the hut in a piqué of insult (I wonder what it is he’s swiped, and what he’s
actually got?) He’s still looking for a hot bath, or failing that some hot
women to make that cold stream feel like it might not be so bad being
cold. Choldis found the ingredients he
needed to heal the Barbarian and uttered the incantation that would heal and
cleanse the wound. All is good.
Choldis takes time to regale the others of how proud he is
of Grak, he chosen succor. So brilliant
at plotting the stars - but unable to walk the icy path to the privy with
falling. Able to recite all 300 stanza
of Yund’s Saga, yet break Choldis’ favourite drinking bowl at high summer
festival. To master the cantrips in two
seasons, and still fall of his stool when scratching his arse. Brilliant but prone to mishaps, Choldis
expects a Pyhric victory from Grak, he just hopes someone can resurrect him
afterwards.
Now on to what is going to be the next adventure!
Choldis shows the group where the village henge stands, or
in this case leans. The base has been
dug out and Choldis has explained that the sacred stone has been stolen by
Isby. Isby was until recently one of his
pupils and Graks “classmates”. A
secretive fellow (human), he would spend much of his time in the hills
surrounding the village. There is one
place that has been proscribed as forbidden by the Druidic Order to enter. The “Hiding of Oitgyn”. This place was once many centuries ago the
residence of a ruler of sorts who lorded it over the local goblinoid
races. At some point in time some calamity
overcame this person and the place fell into ruin. It became a home for unsavory creatures, it
was cleaned out some fifty years ago by Choldis master. He was told that it was an evil place and
that none of the village should ever go there.
It would appear that Isby has, as Choldis sent trackers to ascertain
where the the sacred stone had been taken.
When word returned (the trackers had been attacked and scattered) that
the Hiding had been inhabited and that this is where the sacred stone had most
likely been taken. Choldis had sent for
Grak. He now implores his favourite and
destined pupil to retrieve the sacred stone.
He also tells Grak that the twelve villages make up a
binding circle. If all twelve sacred
stones are removed and destroyed or lost then he does not know (well he does,
and so do I but I’m not telling at this stage) what will happen!
This is where the group now find themselves, exciting isn’t
it!
INVENTORY
Barbarian – Talisman in the shape of a swan, made from
stone, very similar to those stones found in the streams and riverbeds of where
his farm once stood. The Talisman holds
great sentimental value to you. The
village Druid Choldis tells you that there is much to be revealed about this
artifact. (Might just be the fact the GM hasn’t a clue what he wants to do with
it yet!)
Bard – Ring with the motif of a bat with wings spread etched
into a silver ring. This ring was given
to you on your day of maturity. You have
never been able to remove the ring, no matter how many times you have wished to
pawn it for the wealth it holds.
Ranger – Bow of exquisite craftsmanship. It has come into your possession and is
greatly prized, while not magical it confers a +1 bonus to hit.
Druid – Crow of annoying raucousness. This annoying crow has been with Grak since
he has been a child, and as we all know, birds don’t live that long. So based on how old Grak is, this Crow is
clearly not all it appears to be. It
always sits atop Graks staffs, seems to have just the right “learnt” insult for
the right occasion and that look of intelligence in its eye – yes it really is!
3 x cougar pelts (yes I need to look up skinning – so do you
Pat).
Lizardmen “pelts”, really Pat, we need to have a think on
this one. Next will be human skin!
10 silver pieces
1 x trinket (swiped by Leslie from Choldis’s hut…. Oh I
wonder what it is, I’ll leave you in suspense till next we meet!)
Thanks for reading everyone.
Till next time.
The Honourable John
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