Friday, January 30, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Emtih's Journal
Hmm... so I'm here ag'in to write about .. something.. I don't know why I even bother writing anything in this at all but it gives me something to do while I wait for the childr'n to catch up.
I swear this is almost as bad as the times that I was escortin' the town guard thro' the woods. Here I am tryin' to focus on tracking a hobgoblin raiding party to its lair and the rest of the group is actin' like a bunch of townies after a few drinks at the tav'rn. That young magic fella, umm... Arn, Arnie .. yeah, something like that, first Arnie, then my Eladrin friend And, and even that halfling Korn (Corrin? Oh I dun know anymore) start passing out and asking for a break. Do they think the hobgoblins are goin'ta slow down and wait for us? Get off y'ur butts and g'it goin'! I'm only askin' them to march thro' the hills and climb mountains for 8 hours in a day, I dun think that's unreasonable.
Oh wait, maybe I should say why we're tracking the hobgoblin raiding party and where to. Well, the day after the hobgoblin raid on the townies, some hot shot town councilman calls a group of us into his office. No steel, barely even a thank'ye for all the killin' we done did. But he tells us to g'it going and rescue some people and stuff tak'n by the hobgoblins during the raid and then we'll get some steel.
I figure, if it'll get me the chance to slice a few more hobgoblins, I'm all fer it.
So we get ourselves ready and get some more information about where the hobgoblins are hidin' and set out that evening. Apparently they're hidin' in some castle up in the mountains or somethin'. I figure doesn't matter where they're hidin' or who they is hidin' with, I'll kill them nonetheless.
Oh right, that reminds me. Last night in the woods we set up some pickets to watch ov'r the camp while we slept. In the middle of the damn'd night And comes over and wakes me up to check on some rustlin' they heard in the brushes.. well.. turns out it was just a hungry and easily frighten'd coyote. I swear, its like none of these fellas ever liv'd in the woods before. I'd hate to see the ruckuss a pack of squirrels would'a caused had they stampeded by the camp while those fellas were on watch.
I can understand these fellas being a little paranoid about a hobgoblin attack durin' the night, but lets not get carried away here.
Well.. the group is just abouts caught up to me. We're almost to this castle thing so if this journal comes to a sudden conclusion, well.. whoever finds this probably already has figur'd out what become of us.
Emtih Tnod, 13 Freyja
I swear this is almost as bad as the times that I was escortin' the town guard thro' the woods. Here I am tryin' to focus on tracking a hobgoblin raiding party to its lair and the rest of the group is actin' like a bunch of townies after a few drinks at the tav'rn. That young magic fella, umm... Arn, Arnie .. yeah, something like that, first Arnie, then my Eladrin friend And, and even that halfling Korn (Corrin? Oh I dun know anymore) start passing out and asking for a break. Do they think the hobgoblins are goin'ta slow down and wait for us? Get off y'ur butts and g'it goin'! I'm only askin' them to march thro' the hills and climb mountains for 8 hours in a day, I dun think that's unreasonable.
Oh wait, maybe I should say why we're tracking the hobgoblin raiding party and where to. Well, the day after the hobgoblin raid on the townies, some hot shot town councilman calls a group of us into his office. No steel, barely even a thank'ye for all the killin' we done did. But he tells us to g'it going and rescue some people and stuff tak'n by the hobgoblins during the raid and then we'll get some steel.
I figure, if it'll get me the chance to slice a few more hobgoblins, I'm all fer it.
So we get ourselves ready and get some more information about where the hobgoblins are hidin' and set out that evening. Apparently they're hidin' in some castle up in the mountains or somethin'. I figure doesn't matter where they're hidin' or who they is hidin' with, I'll kill them nonetheless.
Oh right, that reminds me. Last night in the woods we set up some pickets to watch ov'r the camp while we slept. In the middle of the damn'd night And comes over and wakes me up to check on some rustlin' they heard in the brushes.. well.. turns out it was just a hungry and easily frighten'd coyote. I swear, its like none of these fellas ever liv'd in the woods before. I'd hate to see the ruckuss a pack of squirrels would'a caused had they stampeded by the camp while those fellas were on watch.
I can understand these fellas being a little paranoid about a hobgoblin attack durin' the night, but lets not get carried away here.
Well.. the group is just abouts caught up to me. We're almost to this castle thing so if this journal comes to a sudden conclusion, well.. whoever finds this probably already has figur'd out what become of us.
Emtih Tnod, 13 Freyja
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Arnold Sol: Archmage Extraordinare!
Welcome curious readers to the first of many issues of “Arnold Sol: Archmage Extraordinare!” we begin with the story of our young hero (editor's note: me!).
Arnold comes from a very strict home where adventuring and general fun was not encouraged. He was always expected to take over the family farm and settle down outside of Brindol. However when he met a traveling bard at the age of thirteen his entire life changed. The bard had novelized some of his works to make a living and Arnold used the little money he had to buy the book. The book was called "Epic Adventures!: The Amazing Adventures of Congo Red and the League of Justice". The novel outlined the League of Justice's (LoJ) dealings with demons, dragons, underdwellers and other evil-doers. One character in particular stood out for him - Dagda Lug, the group's arch-mage. Self assured, powerful, and incredibly smart Dagda Lug was everything Arnie wanted to be.
When Arnie was old enough he left the farm and went to Brindol Academy on a scholarship. He spent all of his time studying becoming the top student in his class and even surpassing some of his teachers. He had one other hobby other than studying though. He spent time around town asking any adventurer and adventurer-types if they knew anything about Congo Red and his team. Much coin was spent buying rounds for washed up knights and former big-city town guards who said that they had met the legendary group. Arnie believed every word. When he heard that a Congo Red store was opening up in town he visited the build site everyday just to learn more about the place. Finally he is meeting up with a group of adventurers for a meal at a local tavern. A halfling hero who had mentioned meeting the LoJ has invited him for drinks and since it is his graduation day he might as well meet one last time before he leaves Brindol for adventure.
Notes:
Arnie is a little obsessive and gullible about aventuring and life in general. He thinks that the entire world works like the farm, the Academy or "Epic Adventures!". He trusts surface appearances and doesn't really look into details of a situation. If it looks like a Big Bad Demon it must be a Big Bad Demon. He also trusts his instincts, they have helped Dagda Lug in his adventures so he should be no different. His motivations are to prove that he could join the LoJ if it was still around and to find out more about the group or eventually meet Dagda Lug. Lastl, one of Dagda Lug's traits was that he was mysterious and exotic. Arnie tries to be the same but usually fails.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Emtih Tnod of Cendriane
Some cleric gave me this notebook to write in after the Red Hand was defeated in Brindol ten years ago. They said I should 'write my feelings' in it or some such nonsense and that it would make me feel better. What a load of hogwash... what difference does it make if I write my feelings down in this book, it won't change the fact that my family is dead and I am not. Its better just to bury these things and try to forget about them.
Except I can't forget about them. How could one forget hiding among the bodies of one's neighbours and family while hobgoblins torched the city of your birth around you? I'm not sure how I survived or why I lived and they all died, and no one has ever been able to explain it to me either. I guess it was just fate.
So, what do you do with these 'journal things' anyways.. I guess you talk about what you have been doing. Well.. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot...
So yesterday was the mead festival or something like that. All these damn villagers run around getting themselves piss drunk (along with the damn fool town guard I might add) and end up waking up the next morning in a place they don't know and unable to remember how they got there. I slept in a small woodlot just outside of town.. I mean, what idiot would actually sleep in town during that nonsense. What idiot would sleep in a town anyways? They're prime targets for any marauding hobgoblin armies, sleeping in the woods is far safer any day.
And you're probably thinkin' "you're just crazy.. there's not a hobgoblin within a hundred miles!" That's what the damn fool captain of the town guard said to me.
My old friend had invited me to come in and have a drink with her and some buddies today. I figur'd, what the hell, I might be able to derive some amusement from watching her pick the pocket of some clueless wench or hungover townie. 'Cept that's not how things turned out.
The group was almost a bad joke to begin with.. let me see, there was this magic lovin' young man celebratin' his graduation from some academy, a hulking half-dragon warrior, this short and deadly halfling, my eladrin old friend and myself. I don't remember half their names even, cuz almost immediately after we arriv'd and had gotten ourselves settled in some hobgoblins with red hands painted on their armour start bursting thro' the front door of the bar and hacked a couple of townies to pieces.
The short halfling guy we were sittin' with leaps across the table and kills one dead with a dagger. Pretty impressive for a halfling I must say, so I jump outta my chair and fire two arrows into the chest of anoth'r, pinning him to the wall. The fight continued for quite some time, with more hobgoblins jumpin' into the fray, setting the bar on fire, and the rest of the group joinin' in an' sending the hobgoblins to a painful death. Even saw one townie grab a chair and smash a hobgoblin wit' it. Too bad he died immediately after, but he did better than the rest of the townies who just either ran or died.
Anyways, shortly after we'd dispatched the last of the hobgoblin, up come some of the damn fool town guards. Sayin' something about how a hole had been left in the town wall and a hobgoblin army had used it as an entrance.. gee.. who would have thought that leavin' a massive hole in your city wall would be a bad idea? I started layin' into the damn fools after they demanded that we drag the bodies out of the bar but the halfling used his silver tongue to smooth things over. Still, I figure they should be givin' us bags of steel an' thanking us, not askin' us to be draggin' the corpses of hobgoblins about.
If they ain't goin' ta be killing the hobgoblins then they might as well be cleaning up the ones we kill. That's what I figure.
Ah well, doesn't matter I suppose, a short while later this huge ogre comes 'round the corner dragging a cart with a couple of hobgoblins in it. They toss what looks like this massive beer keg at us and it smashes into the ground, exploding and cooking the three damn fool town guards. Damn fools, and they wonder why I have no respect for their abilities. They up and die pretty much at the sight of a hobgoblin.
But that halfling, he and the half dragon go chargin' right at the ogre, screaming a mighty battle cry. I'll say, it was a sight that nearly brought a tear of joy to m'eye. 'Course, I, my old friend and magic boy were busy shootin' at the hobgoblin archers. The young man drops a fireball into the cart and it blows up sky high, sending great balls of fire everywhere. I guess the sight of such a fireball was a little much for the young man cuz he collapsed a few seconds later.. but it could've been those arrows stickin' in him too. He seemed fine now so I guess it was just the shock from the fireball.
The ogre went down pretty quick and I filled the one archer with so many arrows you'd think he was at the wrong end of an archery range. The last one up and started runnin' and I took off aft'r him but he got away. Well.. I'll get'm later.
I guess I'd better stop this writing stuff and get goin', it looks like the rest of the group is goin' ta starting heading towards the town center or somethin'. They seem a'right so far, and are pretty useful in a fight that's fo'sure. And if the Red Hand really is back I don't think I can kill them all by m'self.
-Emtih Tnod, 11 Freyja
Except I can't forget about them. How could one forget hiding among the bodies of one's neighbours and family while hobgoblins torched the city of your birth around you? I'm not sure how I survived or why I lived and they all died, and no one has ever been able to explain it to me either. I guess it was just fate.
So, what do you do with these 'journal things' anyways.. I guess you talk about what you have been doing. Well.. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot...
So yesterday was the mead festival or something like that. All these damn villagers run around getting themselves piss drunk (along with the damn fool town guard I might add) and end up waking up the next morning in a place they don't know and unable to remember how they got there. I slept in a small woodlot just outside of town.. I mean, what idiot would actually sleep in town during that nonsense. What idiot would sleep in a town anyways? They're prime targets for any marauding hobgoblin armies, sleeping in the woods is far safer any day.
And you're probably thinkin' "you're just crazy.. there's not a hobgoblin within a hundred miles!" That's what the damn fool captain of the town guard said to me.
My old friend had invited me to come in and have a drink with her and some buddies today. I figur'd, what the hell, I might be able to derive some amusement from watching her pick the pocket of some clueless wench or hungover townie. 'Cept that's not how things turned out.
The group was almost a bad joke to begin with.. let me see, there was this magic lovin' young man celebratin' his graduation from some academy, a hulking half-dragon warrior, this short and deadly halfling, my eladrin old friend and myself. I don't remember half their names even, cuz almost immediately after we arriv'd and had gotten ourselves settled in some hobgoblins with red hands painted on their armour start bursting thro' the front door of the bar and hacked a couple of townies to pieces.
The short halfling guy we were sittin' with leaps across the table and kills one dead with a dagger. Pretty impressive for a halfling I must say, so I jump outta my chair and fire two arrows into the chest of anoth'r, pinning him to the wall. The fight continued for quite some time, with more hobgoblins jumpin' into the fray, setting the bar on fire, and the rest of the group joinin' in an' sending the hobgoblins to a painful death. Even saw one townie grab a chair and smash a hobgoblin wit' it. Too bad he died immediately after, but he did better than the rest of the townies who just either ran or died.
Anyways, shortly after we'd dispatched the last of the hobgoblin, up come some of the damn fool town guards. Sayin' something about how a hole had been left in the town wall and a hobgoblin army had used it as an entrance.. gee.. who would have thought that leavin' a massive hole in your city wall would be a bad idea? I started layin' into the damn fools after they demanded that we drag the bodies out of the bar but the halfling used his silver tongue to smooth things over. Still, I figure they should be givin' us bags of steel an' thanking us, not askin' us to be draggin' the corpses of hobgoblins about.
If they ain't goin' ta be killing the hobgoblins then they might as well be cleaning up the ones we kill. That's what I figure.
Ah well, doesn't matter I suppose, a short while later this huge ogre comes 'round the corner dragging a cart with a couple of hobgoblins in it. They toss what looks like this massive beer keg at us and it smashes into the ground, exploding and cooking the three damn fool town guards. Damn fools, and they wonder why I have no respect for their abilities. They up and die pretty much at the sight of a hobgoblin.
But that halfling, he and the half dragon go chargin' right at the ogre, screaming a mighty battle cry. I'll say, it was a sight that nearly brought a tear of joy to m'eye. 'Course, I, my old friend and magic boy were busy shootin' at the hobgoblin archers. The young man drops a fireball into the cart and it blows up sky high, sending great balls of fire everywhere. I guess the sight of such a fireball was a little much for the young man cuz he collapsed a few seconds later.. but it could've been those arrows stickin' in him too. He seemed fine now so I guess it was just the shock from the fireball.
The ogre went down pretty quick and I filled the one archer with so many arrows you'd think he was at the wrong end of an archery range. The last one up and started runnin' and I took off aft'r him but he got away. Well.. I'll get'm later.
I guess I'd better stop this writing stuff and get goin', it looks like the rest of the group is goin' ta starting heading towards the town center or somethin'. They seem a'right so far, and are pretty useful in a fight that's fo'sure. And if the Red Hand really is back I don't think I can kill them all by m'self.
-Emtih Tnod, 11 Freyja
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Day 0 - Mead for all, Heroisim for some
Tuesday 10th of Freyja, 894 RM
What a wonderful day for a festival. The blossoms are in full bloom. The bees are buzzing around producing new honey for the coming year. Time to get rid of all the previous years store of mead ready for the new batches coming. Winter mead, golden liquid, bringer of life and drunkeness. The taverns have opened early this year. Already merrymakers are on the streets, and with good reason. People need time to relax. Already rumors of hobgoblins being seen in the borderlands are getting people unnerved. The reassurance of the Kartenix the guard captain of Brindol does not seem so reassuring. Memories of the attacks 10 years ago are still in the minds of the older residents.
5 Future Heroe's go about their daily routine. Shopping for new duds at Congo Red's Mead day sale. Preying to their favored god for the good fortunes of the coming year. Dreaming of famous battles with manticores and dragons. Patroleing the streets looking for pickpockets or marks. Drinking it up at the Antler and Thistle or any other of the many watering holes in the town. All unaware of the events that will unfold with the new day.
Rest well this night, for tomorrow you sail for the Kingdom of Daggerfall, i mean have nice completely uneventful dinner with your friends.
What a wonderful day for a festival. The blossoms are in full bloom. The bees are buzzing around producing new honey for the coming year. Time to get rid of all the previous years store of mead ready for the new batches coming. Winter mead, golden liquid, bringer of life and drunkeness. The taverns have opened early this year. Already merrymakers are on the streets, and with good reason. People need time to relax. Already rumors of hobgoblins being seen in the borderlands are getting people unnerved. The reassurance of the Kartenix the guard captain of Brindol does not seem so reassuring. Memories of the attacks 10 years ago are still in the minds of the older residents.
5 Future Heroe's go about their daily routine. Shopping for new duds at Congo Red's Mead day sale. Preying to their favored god for the good fortunes of the coming year. Dreaming of famous battles with manticores and dragons. Patroleing the streets looking for pickpockets or marks. Drinking it up at the Antler and Thistle or any other of the many watering holes in the town. All unaware of the events that will unfold with the new day.
Rest well this night, for tomorrow you sail for the Kingdom of Daggerfall, i mean have nice completely uneventful dinner with your friends.
SoW Part 1 - Rescue at Rivenroar
It is the year 894 in the age of mortals. The world stands now, bastions of civilization populate a dark, menacing world—islands of order and reason exist in a land otherwise overrun by dark cults, vile monsters, creatures from the dark edges of the imagination, and worse.
Elsir Vale
The vale stretches almost 250 miles east to west and averages about 70 miles north to south. Several small mountain ranges and dense forests form the vale's borders. The weather is temperate with warm summers and cold winters. One major highway connects the vale with towns to the east and west. Travel along the highway is sparse and well guarded when it occurs.
The vale has ridden out the years since the great war in relative peace, mostly because it has been ignored by the surrounding world. Small amounts of protected farmland are used to feed the vales population with a small ammount left for trade to surrounding cities. The primary form of trade in the vales is tulaberry wine from the tulaberry bushes that bloom in the foothills of the surrounding mountain ranges. Harvested once a year with armed guard, set to protect the workers from the monsters that inhabit the region. Honey is the other major export and is produced in large quantities from the flowering plants in the region. Many other exports exist
but in amounts too small to mention.
Ten years ago the vale was terrorized by a large army of hobgoblins and other goblin kin called the Red Hand. A great many people in the vale where slaughtered and the small towns that dot the vale are still rebuilding. The army was stopped in the town of Brindol where the residents made their last stand. The battle was won mostly due to the delaying tactics of a small group of adventurers who were in the vale at the time of the attacks. The war is still strong in peoples memories and the victory is one of the most important events in the vales history.
Want to know more ?
Elsir Vale
The vale stretches almost 250 miles east to west and averages about 70 miles north to south. Several small mountain ranges and dense forests form the vale's borders. The weather is temperate with warm summers and cold winters. One major highway connects the vale with towns to the east and west. Travel along the highway is sparse and well guarded when it occurs.
The vale has ridden out the years since the great war in relative peace, mostly because it has been ignored by the surrounding world. Small amounts of protected farmland are used to feed the vales population with a small ammount left for trade to surrounding cities. The primary form of trade in the vales is tulaberry wine from the tulaberry bushes that bloom in the foothills of the surrounding mountain ranges. Harvested once a year with armed guard, set to protect the workers from the monsters that inhabit the region. Honey is the other major export and is produced in large quantities from the flowering plants in the region. Many other exports exist
but in amounts too small to mention.
Ten years ago the vale was terrorized by a large army of hobgoblins and other goblin kin called the Red Hand. A great many people in the vale where slaughtered and the small towns that dot the vale are still rebuilding. The army was stopped in the town of Brindol where the residents made their last stand. The battle was won mostly due to the delaying tactics of a small group of adventurers who were in the vale at the time of the attacks. The war is still strong in peoples memories and the victory is one of the most important events in the vales history.
Want to know more ?
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