A contingent of the Lonely Street Irregulars set South to Menea in order to investigate the ever increasing reports of a zombie infestation in that Kingdom. After being warned off by no less than the Prefect of Bolden, and after being further counseled that the various schools of Magic were working together in order to create some barrier between afflicted Menea and the rest of the civilized world, the party set forth without trepidation. Included in their company were six mercenary archers and a hireling wizard.
As they would not be put off, the Prefect of Bolden offered to hear the confessions of the faithful and to apply the conditional Last Rite to whomever would receive it. In availing himself of the Prefects intercession, Father Thomas took upon himself a vow of silence. Just one day South of Bolden, they came upon the barrier – a great obsidian wall that seemed to spring forth from the very earth. No wizards were in evidence, but the hireling felt the presence of great magic.
Scaling the wall, the party quickly dispatched two zombies and learned the valuable lesson that even a heavily armored adventurer is not safe from any enemy who lacks fear and has a willingness to grapple.Back on the “safe” side of the wall, the Irregulars traveled first to Brambleton and found it a ghost town, picked clean by elves of the Mistwood. No humans had been here in some time, but zombie corpses were abundant.
Traveling West to the Woodmere they encountered a valiant outpost of Meneans who were cut off from the rest of their kingdom and kin, who were believed to be behind zombie lines. West from there, they entered the halfelven town of Slip and made contact via Mourning Elk with Elves in the Northern forest.The elves could not be bothered with the circumstances of the humans and believed that this might be the beginning of the end for human civilization and signal the glorious rise of the Eighth Age. Even if not, the elves prognosticated, the zombie problem would probably right itself in a century or two – certainly not enough to get bothered about. The Irregulars would not be assuaged, however, and continued to Blunden.
Blunden proved to be every bit as vacant as Brambleton. Finding no evidence of any living thing, the Irregulars marched to the walls of Menea itself. The city was shut tight against visitors and refused to entertain any audience with strangers, let alone strangers from Bolden. When Father Thomas indicated that he was on a mission from God, the Meneans threw their last itinerate “priest” (a bandit and con man) from their walls with his throat cut.
Anxious to prove his fidelity to the Church, Father Thomas refused to leave the approach of the great city and paid for his obstinance with a bath of boiling oil and an attempt at immolation. The rest of the Irregulars assumed he was intoxicated or otherwise bereft of his senses and tried to drag him off. Thomas would not be daunted. Owing in some part to his demonstrated faith, the city eventually opened its doors to the Priest and his companions, but not before being infiltrated far more easily by half of the party and their talents for thievery.The Meneans subsisted well by posting guards at each of their fields and by bringing in crops and livestock when the zombie activity was highest. The city walls protected the citizens by night. While in Menea, Brumbar the Paladin witnessed (and subsequently slew) a human as he turned from a bite victim into zombie.
Without much to keep them in Menea, the Irregulars traveled South again toward Gladden, where the outbreak was to have first occurred.Gladden was a simple town and unlike the others, had not been picked over by scavengers or elves. Everywhere there was evidence that zombie activity was high. The town graveyard emanated strong evil. Beneath it, the Irregulars discovered a hidden facility and some went down to investigate while others stayed in town to fight the zombie hordes as they approached.
Again it seemed that Thomas was intoxicated with his love of his God as he stood toe to toe with streams of zombies who would not relent. First the arrows and swords of his companions brought him respite, but soon enough they saw the futility of fighting a horde which must number in the thousands. Thomas alone remained above ground, while his compatriots sought to find what had created the abomination in the first place.
Beneath Gladden the Irregulars discovered the abandoned dungeon of the King of Menea and read the record of the prisoner known only as Romero. Romero, a relative of the king, died at the hands of a priest attempting to hear his confession and soon after something like a disease began to sweep the cells. The record ends there, but it is presumed that this Romero became the zombie lord, and though he was unable to escape himself, was able to affect the bodies in the graveyard above him.Romero, the zombie lord, proved to be a difficult kill. The Irregulars finally dispatched him with a head blow – a thought that occurred to them late in the heat of battle and not before one of their number, Thalwyn, was somehow killed by the breath of their foe. In the instant that he died, Thalwyn became a true zombie and had to be killed a second time by his former friends.
Meanwhile, above ground, Father Thomas had been bitten by his foes and in his panic nearly rode off to certain death before remembering through his seemingly alcoholic haze the Brumbar the Paladin could cure disease. He too went beneath Gladden and broke his vow for the first time, by beseeching the good knight to save him. Thus saved from certain death, he joined his compatriots in slaying both Romero and Thalwyn.
The Irregulars set off for Bolden and it’s Prefect with all due haste, bringing the body of Thalwyn with them. Once they were there, the Prefect of Bolden admitted that he owed Thalwyn a boon for a previous undertaking and raised the elf by the laying on of hands. As for Thomas, he seems no worse for the wear… so far.
Forestal, a survey
From the Geographic Records of the High King...
From Rand, Cartographer to the High King, to his Royal Highness, Lord of Bolden and Ruler of the Eight Kingdoms.
Mindful of your magnificent charge to map the known worlds, I traveled to the little known hamlet of Forestal in Talir. There I made the acquaintance of several strangers as together we sought shelter from a storm. I regret to inform you that several of my scrolls were damaged by the relentless weather, but know you will be pleased to hear that I escaped with my health.
The town of Forestal and its environs has proven to be every bit as difficult to graph as it was rumored to be. Apparently the citizens of this town distrust visitors and treat them unkindly. Fortunately, I had the aid of the strangers I mentioned to keep me safe. Unbeknownst to them, I stole away in their company using the trinket you gave me.
While this tale has little bearing on my role of mapmaker, I thought that your Highness should learn of the strange things which befell us. From my various perches I learned that Forestal is a nexus between the Many Worlds and a portal to even to the far reaches of Erenes.
The strangers and I found ourselves drifting in the clouds between worlds and landing in the domain of one who calls herself the Prism Cat. There in that domain, they solved the mystery of the moving forest, answered the silent riddle of the skeletal guardian, braved the wandering beasts, avoided the flapping guardsmen, and faced all twenty challenges put to them in the form of tricks and treats.
I watched their progress from the trees, and having learned by their great successes and failures, resolved to pass the challenges as I might. I am now the proud owner of a new set of boots, a cloak, a magnificent ring, a dagger, a sword, some arrows and a fine leather sack.
So it is that I tender my resignation to you and send with it the maps I have completed. I know that your anger with my decision will be great, but I suspect that I shall pass unnoticed through Bolden and onto better things.
Faretheewell.
Quote of the Day:
“Hey, do you think the Prism Cat can do anything for my looks?"
"No, there is only so much magic.”
From Rand, Cartographer to the High King, to his Royal Highness, Lord of Bolden and Ruler of the Eight Kingdoms.
Mindful of your magnificent charge to map the known worlds, I traveled to the little known hamlet of Forestal in Talir. There I made the acquaintance of several strangers as together we sought shelter from a storm. I regret to inform you that several of my scrolls were damaged by the relentless weather, but know you will be pleased to hear that I escaped with my health.
The town of Forestal and its environs has proven to be every bit as difficult to graph as it was rumored to be. Apparently the citizens of this town distrust visitors and treat them unkindly. Fortunately, I had the aid of the strangers I mentioned to keep me safe. Unbeknownst to them, I stole away in their company using the trinket you gave me.
While this tale has little bearing on my role of mapmaker, I thought that your Highness should learn of the strange things which befell us. From my various perches I learned that Forestal is a nexus between the Many Worlds and a portal to even to the far reaches of Erenes.
The strangers and I found ourselves drifting in the clouds between worlds and landing in the domain of one who calls herself the Prism Cat. There in that domain, they solved the mystery of the moving forest, answered the silent riddle of the skeletal guardian, braved the wandering beasts, avoided the flapping guardsmen, and faced all twenty challenges put to them in the form of tricks and treats.
I watched their progress from the trees, and having learned by their great successes and failures, resolved to pass the challenges as I might. I am now the proud owner of a new set of boots, a cloak, a magnificent ring, a dagger, a sword, some arrows and a fine leather sack.
So it is that I tender my resignation to you and send with it the maps I have completed. I know that your anger with my decision will be great, but I suspect that I shall pass unnoticed through Bolden and onto better things.
Faretheewell.
Quote of the Day:
“Hey, do you think the Prism Cat can do anything for my looks?"
"No, there is only so much magic.”
Saving Wanderhalt
In the absence of the gnolls, the Maguiren were left to rebuild Beornshold. The Irregulars, having quite enough of Half-goblin company, decided to return to the Eight Kingdoms. Upon returning to that great city on the edge of civilization, they found Wanderhalt beseiged by the remaining contingent of Gnolls and there weren’t many.
Following typical Irregulars strategy, the party immediately split into two groups and worked at cross purposes. Group A rode the long way round to Wanderhalt and made an inquiry as to the gnolls. Group B charged headlong into battle.
Group A discovered that the Gnolls were not attacked by the city watch because they were holding the baron hostage. Then, depending on whose report is most accurate, Group A either attempted to negotiate a price to save the baron, or presented themselves to the city as his kidnappers in order to gain the ransom. Either way, their methods proved too clumsy and the city guard decided to drive them off with slings and arrows.
Meanwhile, Group B fairly decimated the first half of the gnolls and drove the second into retreat. Which was not before the baron was slain, however. The city watch, realizing that the baron’s life had been forfeit, sallied forth to put all to the sword.
Some quick talking on the part of the Irregulars, along with some evidence to prove their relative innocence, managed to spare their lives. However, nothing could assuage the apparent bloodlust they felt towards one another. Fr. Hubbard, the party’s spiritual guide, was slapped by Mourning Elk, which raised the ire of Ted Gurdy Pickens who attacked the ranger savagely. Mourning Elk tried to inflict less-than-lethal damage, but Pickens would have nothing less than full combat. Things ended poorly for Pickens.
At adventure’s end, the Irregulars entered Wanderhalt, pleased to note that, for once, no tax was being collected for doing so.
Quote of the Day: "Last of the Mohicans is the best movie ever!"
Following typical Irregulars strategy, the party immediately split into two groups and worked at cross purposes. Group A rode the long way round to Wanderhalt and made an inquiry as to the gnolls. Group B charged headlong into battle.
Group A discovered that the Gnolls were not attacked by the city watch because they were holding the baron hostage. Then, depending on whose report is most accurate, Group A either attempted to negotiate a price to save the baron, or presented themselves to the city as his kidnappers in order to gain the ransom. Either way, their methods proved too clumsy and the city guard decided to drive them off with slings and arrows.
Meanwhile, Group B fairly decimated the first half of the gnolls and drove the second into retreat. Which was not before the baron was slain, however. The city watch, realizing that the baron’s life had been forfeit, sallied forth to put all to the sword.
Some quick talking on the part of the Irregulars, along with some evidence to prove their relative innocence, managed to spare their lives. However, nothing could assuage the apparent bloodlust they felt towards one another. Fr. Hubbard, the party’s spiritual guide, was slapped by Mourning Elk, which raised the ire of Ted Gurdy Pickens who attacked the ranger savagely. Mourning Elk tried to inflict less-than-lethal damage, but Pickens would have nothing less than full combat. Things ended poorly for Pickens.
At adventure’s end, the Irregulars entered Wanderhalt, pleased to note that, for once, no tax was being collected for doing so.
Quote of the Day: "Last of the Mohicans is the best movie ever!"
The Troll Hunt
From the Elves...
To Esfaeleon the Cup Bearer, from his faithful servant and sentry, Hisanor Redleaf of the Southern Expanse.
O’ Thorl live forever.
I write this letter so soon after my last because of recent incursions in our lands demand that the tale be told. Rest assured that our Southern Expanse remains secure, but I recall with great lightness of heart our conversation at the Solstice when you shared the story of your neice and the human she married.
Earlier this week we came upon a small company of halfbreeds and humans who were crashing through the Greywood, far North and West of where we expect to find them. We followed them discreetly for four days before it became apparent that they might actually stumble upon the Winter Retreat if we let them. As they were shy of the mark and rather bumbling, I decided to allow them to live and to inquire of their purpose here.
The leader described herself as Lita the Half. She appears to be a Ranger of sorts. Her company included a human, an elf, and a curious dark-skinned creature whose like I have never seen. He spoke like a human and smelled of The Towns, but his features were not unlike that of the Seperatists.
This Lita told me that she was searching for Trolls and begged my leave to do so unmolested. I was shocked that such an under-equipped party would be searching for their own death in this fashion, but I remembered your stern warning that sometimes humans are stronger than they appear. I relented and pointed her in the direction of the Longarm Horde.
Though we have steered wide around them these last three seasons, the Longarm are still very active and their hunger is giving them wider roam. If these humans were able to rid us of their scourge without risking the recruits you sent, I thought we would be much the better off. We also followed them at distance to guage their mettle — if this Lita were successful we might find her an ally in some future instance.
The Troll Horde began their hunt shortly after the four left the path. First a Great Bruin was driven into their camp and by some Llor was sent back toward the trolls from which it had run. The Trolls tore it to pieces and then the hunt began in earnest.
There were ten of the Longarm altogether. They threw their rocks at the party of bumblers who would not be driven off. At this point I turned to my aide with an eyebrow raised. A hunting party of ten Longarm against these four — the four must be powerful indeed!
But then both groups closed for tooth and fang. One hundred heartbeats later, it was all over. Though grievously wounded, two of the bumblers kept their feet and managed to carry their fallen (dead by the looks of it) away. At this point, I could scarcely contain my laughter and the hunting party turned in our direction. We managed to drive them back without permanent damage to them (or us, by my Ancestral Tree!).
The last we saw of the party of four, they were returning with all due haste to the plains. They sleep now, but we will follow them South until they exit.
If the Longarm Horde are not gone by Spring, we shall have to burn them out of the caves. In the mean time they might prove a worthy deterrent to more incursions of outsiders.
Sign me, ever vigilant and given to mirth.
Quote of the Day: "Okay, that didn't really work out the way I wanted it to."
To Esfaeleon the Cup Bearer, from his faithful servant and sentry, Hisanor Redleaf of the Southern Expanse.
O’ Thorl live forever.
I write this letter so soon after my last because of recent incursions in our lands demand that the tale be told. Rest assured that our Southern Expanse remains secure, but I recall with great lightness of heart our conversation at the Solstice when you shared the story of your neice and the human she married.
Earlier this week we came upon a small company of halfbreeds and humans who were crashing through the Greywood, far North and West of where we expect to find them. We followed them discreetly for four days before it became apparent that they might actually stumble upon the Winter Retreat if we let them. As they were shy of the mark and rather bumbling, I decided to allow them to live and to inquire of their purpose here.
The leader described herself as Lita the Half. She appears to be a Ranger of sorts. Her company included a human, an elf, and a curious dark-skinned creature whose like I have never seen. He spoke like a human and smelled of The Towns, but his features were not unlike that of the Seperatists.
This Lita told me that she was searching for Trolls and begged my leave to do so unmolested. I was shocked that such an under-equipped party would be searching for their own death in this fashion, but I remembered your stern warning that sometimes humans are stronger than they appear. I relented and pointed her in the direction of the Longarm Horde.
Though we have steered wide around them these last three seasons, the Longarm are still very active and their hunger is giving them wider roam. If these humans were able to rid us of their scourge without risking the recruits you sent, I thought we would be much the better off. We also followed them at distance to guage their mettle — if this Lita were successful we might find her an ally in some future instance.
The Troll Horde began their hunt shortly after the four left the path. First a Great Bruin was driven into their camp and by some Llor was sent back toward the trolls from which it had run. The Trolls tore it to pieces and then the hunt began in earnest.
There were ten of the Longarm altogether. They threw their rocks at the party of bumblers who would not be driven off. At this point I turned to my aide with an eyebrow raised. A hunting party of ten Longarm against these four — the four must be powerful indeed!
But then both groups closed for tooth and fang. One hundred heartbeats later, it was all over. Though grievously wounded, two of the bumblers kept their feet and managed to carry their fallen (dead by the looks of it) away. At this point, I could scarcely contain my laughter and the hunting party turned in our direction. We managed to drive them back without permanent damage to them (or us, by my Ancestral Tree!).
The last we saw of the party of four, they were returning with all due haste to the plains. They sleep now, but we will follow them South until they exit.
If the Longarm Horde are not gone by Spring, we shall have to burn them out of the caves. In the mean time they might prove a worthy deterrent to more incursions of outsiders.
Sign me, ever vigilant and given to mirth.
Quote of the Day: "Okay, that didn't really work out the way I wanted it to."
Beneath the Grassy Gnolls
Because the Maguiren fled when presented with the Gnoll idol, the Irregulars are afraid that any returning Gnolls may retake the city. The Maguiren are bolstered by the speechifying, but a call goes up among them for a greater sign that their victory was no accident.
Just then, an old crone steps forward and delivers a prophecy. The Maguiren will never know true victory, she says, so long as their King does not hold the ancient weapon interrred within the depths of the Gnoll warren. The King steps forward and gathers twelve volunteers (the Irregulars among them) to seek this weapon and bring it out to the light of day.
Resistance in the warren proves to be light. There is more damage inflicted by traps and ambuscade than by toe to toe fighting. Eventually, the warren succumbs to their skill at arms. Even the surrendering are killed. While searching the complex, the party stumbles across a barricaded passage to an ancient dwarven crypt. That crypt purports to house the horde of Molly Maguire.
At the end of a long passage lies a strange great hall laid out in colored floor tiles. The tiles appear to mimic the tartan of the Maguire Clan, which the Maguiren Orcs hold sacred. There are two plaques on the floor before the tartan. One written in Dwarf, the other in Graetish (the language of gnomes and giants). The dwarf one is translated handily by Luftilda, but there is no one among the Irregulars present who reads Graetish.
The Dwarf Plaque reads:
They surmise that the hall must be traversed in some specific way, that the floor tiles must make a combination of sorts that needs to be unlocked before a person is safe. Another Orc volunteers and is promptly crushed for his courage, as is a third.
Then, announcing that she has a plan, and relying on her Dwarven intuition, Luftilda strides forward across the many colored tiles. Before reaching the end she describes a corridor beyond. Then, seeking to cheat the fate of the massive stone block, dives into the passage without touching the last tile. The Irregulars never hear from her again.
Then Brumbar the Paladin agrees to ride to the South and seek a Gnome translator. In so traveling, he braves a Gnoll war party and confronts a witch fighting a wizard. In the course of interrupting that fight, the wizard is turned to stone and the witch agrees to aid Brumbar in finding gnomes. Eventually, with a gnome hireling in tow, Brumbar returns to the Irregulars, no worse for the wear.
The Gnome translates the Graetish writing and takes it to be the work of G’nakor, worthy artificer and director of mechanical operations, friend to Mad Molly Maguire. There is a riddle therein, directed to the Friends of Molly Maguire and advising them to touch each color no more than twice and never move diagonally.
Trusting this gnome, whom they have never met, the Irregulars study the pattern and plot a course across the hall. It turns out to be correct and they cross safely to the other side. Once there, they see a great chasm over which a bridge now unwinds.
Traversing that bridge they find themselves in a magically illuminated hall of murals that shows a great heroine in various battles and other moments of nobility. At the end of the hall rests Tide of Battle, her great sword shattered in it’s last use.
Avoiding a final trap, the Irregulars give the Sword to the King of the Maguiren who returns to his clan with the promise to forge it anew. A great celebration is had and the Maguiren prepare to occupy the Gnoll City.
Quote of the Day: “What the hell was your plan for the pattern???”
“Well… I like green.”
Just then, an old crone steps forward and delivers a prophecy. The Maguiren will never know true victory, she says, so long as their King does not hold the ancient weapon interrred within the depths of the Gnoll warren. The King steps forward and gathers twelve volunteers (the Irregulars among them) to seek this weapon and bring it out to the light of day.
Resistance in the warren proves to be light. There is more damage inflicted by traps and ambuscade than by toe to toe fighting. Eventually, the warren succumbs to their skill at arms. Even the surrendering are killed. While searching the complex, the party stumbles across a barricaded passage to an ancient dwarven crypt. That crypt purports to house the horde of Molly Maguire.
At the end of a long passage lies a strange great hall laid out in colored floor tiles. The tiles appear to mimic the tartan of the Maguire Clan, which the Maguiren Orcs hold sacred. There are two plaques on the floor before the tartan. One written in Dwarf, the other in Graetish (the language of gnomes and giants). The dwarf one is translated handily by Luftilda, but there is no one among the Irregulars present who reads Graetish.
The Dwarf Plaque reads:
This sacred hall built with affinity and respect by the people of Dun Corglur houses the memories and exploits of Mad Molly Maguire, heroine of reknown, ruler of Beornshold, uniter of Clans, liberator of Wyrmshaven, defeater of giants, scourge of goblins, potentate of the North Plains, bane of The Elf, friend of the Duns, and upholder of the Tide of Battle.One of the Maguiren, hearing the dedication plaque read, asks permission of his King to have the honor of crossing the plaid hall to reach the other side. The honor is bestowed and the Irregulars watch in horror as the Orc is crushed by a massive stone block as soon as he reaches the other side. That block rachets slowly back into the ceiling.
They surmise that the hall must be traversed in some specific way, that the floor tiles must make a combination of sorts that needs to be unlocked before a person is safe. Another Orc volunteers and is promptly crushed for his courage, as is a third.
Then, announcing that she has a plan, and relying on her Dwarven intuition, Luftilda strides forward across the many colored tiles. Before reaching the end she describes a corridor beyond. Then, seeking to cheat the fate of the massive stone block, dives into the passage without touching the last tile. The Irregulars never hear from her again.
Then Brumbar the Paladin agrees to ride to the South and seek a Gnome translator. In so traveling, he braves a Gnoll war party and confronts a witch fighting a wizard. In the course of interrupting that fight, the wizard is turned to stone and the witch agrees to aid Brumbar in finding gnomes. Eventually, with a gnome hireling in tow, Brumbar returns to the Irregulars, no worse for the wear.
The Gnome translates the Graetish writing and takes it to be the work of G’nakor, worthy artificer and director of mechanical operations, friend to Mad Molly Maguire. There is a riddle therein, directed to the Friends of Molly Maguire and advising them to touch each color no more than twice and never move diagonally.
Trusting this gnome, whom they have never met, the Irregulars study the pattern and plot a course across the hall. It turns out to be correct and they cross safely to the other side. Once there, they see a great chasm over which a bridge now unwinds.
Traversing that bridge they find themselves in a magically illuminated hall of murals that shows a great heroine in various battles and other moments of nobility. At the end of the hall rests Tide of Battle, her great sword shattered in it’s last use.
Avoiding a final trap, the Irregulars give the Sword to the King of the Maguiren who returns to his clan with the promise to forge it anew. A great celebration is had and the Maguiren prepare to occupy the Gnoll City.
Quote of the Day: “What the hell was your plan for the pattern???”
“Well… I like green.”
Hamlet of Zombies
From the Scrolls of the Prefect of Bolden...
I, Largas of the Plains, write this tale. I speak of what I have seen with my eyes and heard with my ears.
First a merchant came, selling his wheat and barley. But he was sick so he did not leave when his wares were gone. Instead we kept watch over him for three days of fever and ache. On the third day he seemed like us to have died. By that evening he had risen with rage in his eyes and murder in his heart. He attacked his hosts and slew many of them with his hands and teeth.
Those who were dead we buried, those who were wounded grew ill and were taken with a fever and ache. We watched and prayed that they would not be like the traveling merchant. After three days had passed, our town was transformed into the hunted and the hunters. Zombies we called them and they did not rest, nor did they grant us respite.
We were six survivors after a fortnight. We journeyed to the next village and found it overrun by zombies. Resigned to the end of the world, we returned home to despair. We dug tunnels and hid in them. We set snares and traps to destroy those who meant us harm. Only fire would kill them and we were outnumbered.
But then five heroes came to our hamlet. Five of them brought blades of judgment upon the zombies. One by one they put the zombies to the sword. When they left us, our town was clear and the funeral pyres burned high. Our town will always remember the Orc Man, Red Gurdy, Osafa the dark-skinned, Aloevera, and Enos the Wizard.
Quote of the Day: "Where's Bobby?"
I, Largas of the Plains, write this tale. I speak of what I have seen with my eyes and heard with my ears.
First a merchant came, selling his wheat and barley. But he was sick so he did not leave when his wares were gone. Instead we kept watch over him for three days of fever and ache. On the third day he seemed like us to have died. By that evening he had risen with rage in his eyes and murder in his heart. He attacked his hosts and slew many of them with his hands and teeth.
Those who were dead we buried, those who were wounded grew ill and were taken with a fever and ache. We watched and prayed that they would not be like the traveling merchant. After three days had passed, our town was transformed into the hunted and the hunters. Zombies we called them and they did not rest, nor did they grant us respite.
We were six survivors after a fortnight. We journeyed to the next village and found it overrun by zombies. Resigned to the end of the world, we returned home to despair. We dug tunnels and hid in them. We set snares and traps to destroy those who meant us harm. Only fire would kill them and we were outnumbered.
But then five heroes came to our hamlet. Five of them brought blades of judgment upon the zombies. One by one they put the zombies to the sword. When they left us, our town was clear and the funeral pyres burned high. Our town will always remember the Orc Man, Red Gurdy, Osafa the dark-skinned, Aloevera, and Enos the Wizard.
Quote of the Day: "Where's Bobby?"
Grassy Gnolls
The Lonely Street Irregulars stand on the ruined outskirts of ancient Beornshold. There, joined by Mr. Ted Gurdy and his youthful ward, Boy Hubbard, the Irregulars are assailed by black-fletched arrows from the nearby wood. Running down their attackers, they discover a curious tribe of Orcs calling themselves the Maguiren. The Maguiren leader, Colin, makes peace with the Irregulars and claims to have attacked only because he thought them allied with the Gnolls who now inhabit Beornshold. He invites the party back to his village, there to meet his clan’s leader, King Armstrong.
The Maguiren claim to be descendants of the original citizens of Beornshold. They live as men and take great pride in their civilized ways. They aver their fealty both to the god Beorn and to the High Throne in Peakshadow. Proof they say, lies in their carefully escrowed tribute payments (which are offered to and strangely refused by the Irregulars.)
King Armstrong admits that more than anything else, the Maguiren fear a return to the savage and uncivilized ways of their forebears. This fear keeps them from attacking the Gnolls in force. The Gnolls have a god named Grond which has been known to cause Maguiren to revert suddenly and irrevocably to their most savage state. This is a shame they cannot bear to chance.
When the Irregulars state that Grond is no longer with the Gnolls, they inspire the Maguiren warriors to take up their swords. King Armstrong offers to lend the Irregular’s captain (an apparently rotating position) 100 of his warriors for an assault on the Gnoll habitation. After a long night of war planning, the mid-morning is filled with a great battle. 70 Maguiren foot and 30 Maguiren archers are arrayed with the Irregulars against 110 hyena warriors.
Despite the numbers, the battle is over in less than fifteen minutes. The gnoll habitat is secured and the entrance to a underground complex is discovered. Just then, Pickens reveals that he has Grond in a sack and has had the idol since meeting someone named Seth Mallory in Wanderhalt.
The Maguiren flee in horror, leaving the Irregulars to debate in their usual vigorous fashion about what to do next.
Quote of the Day: “This is going too well. Ed is calm and collected… this is where he brings in Demogorgon.”
The Maguiren claim to be descendants of the original citizens of Beornshold. They live as men and take great pride in their civilized ways. They aver their fealty both to the god Beorn and to the High Throne in Peakshadow. Proof they say, lies in their carefully escrowed tribute payments (which are offered to and strangely refused by the Irregulars.)
King Armstrong admits that more than anything else, the Maguiren fear a return to the savage and uncivilized ways of their forebears. This fear keeps them from attacking the Gnolls in force. The Gnolls have a god named Grond which has been known to cause Maguiren to revert suddenly and irrevocably to their most savage state. This is a shame they cannot bear to chance.
When the Irregulars state that Grond is no longer with the Gnolls, they inspire the Maguiren warriors to take up their swords. King Armstrong offers to lend the Irregular’s captain (an apparently rotating position) 100 of his warriors for an assault on the Gnoll habitation. After a long night of war planning, the mid-morning is filled with a great battle. 70 Maguiren foot and 30 Maguiren archers are arrayed with the Irregulars against 110 hyena warriors.
Despite the numbers, the battle is over in less than fifteen minutes. The gnoll habitat is secured and the entrance to a underground complex is discovered. Just then, Pickens reveals that he has Grond in a sack and has had the idol since meeting someone named Seth Mallory in Wanderhalt.
The Maguiren flee in horror, leaving the Irregulars to debate in their usual vigorous fashion about what to do next.
Quote of the Day: “This is going too well. Ed is calm and collected… this is where he brings in Demogorgon.”
Backstory: Ted Gurdy -- Uncommon Hero
The following is an excerpt from the diary of the widow Hubbard...
With heavy heart I confess the death of one of my middling sons. The fault is my own and while I almost can’t bear the shame, I shoulder it as penance. May God have mercy on my soul.
A mother’s greatest fear is the loss of one of her children. While I have had 12 children to my credit, no amount of them will replace the one I abandoned on the prairie.
When I saw that he was not with us, I sent my oldest son along with a large sword-wielding man to retrieve him. This man was uncouth and nearly witless, but his skill with a blade and the purity of his heart proved themselves amply and without subtlety.
For two days this hero and my son traveled out on the plains alone. Back to my homestead they went, fighting rampaging gnolls all the way, until this brave hero was stricken, near unto death. My elder son, too, was injured. Only the grace of God saved the both of them, though in his unfathomable wisdom, they could not save my missing child from a cruel death in flames. Ted Gurdy vowed revenge and did kill those responsible. He brought the body of my dearest back for a fitting funeral.
In gratitude, my eldest has now pledged to serve this Ted Gurdy as his Page. The man is uncommonly brave, but as impious as he is stupid, and my son has said he would see him redeemed to faith in our wise God. Now I pray daily for them both, and I hold out hope that my boy might learn something more than just how to drink hard liquor from his new master.
I offered to pay him all of my life savings, including my wedding band from my dear departed husband, but he would have none of it.
Quote of the Day: "Lady, I feel terrible about your kid, I can't take your money. Keep it. I don't know.Maybe buy yourself a new kid or something."
With heavy heart I confess the death of one of my middling sons. The fault is my own and while I almost can’t bear the shame, I shoulder it as penance. May God have mercy on my soul.
A mother’s greatest fear is the loss of one of her children. While I have had 12 children to my credit, no amount of them will replace the one I abandoned on the prairie.
When I saw that he was not with us, I sent my oldest son along with a large sword-wielding man to retrieve him. This man was uncouth and nearly witless, but his skill with a blade and the purity of his heart proved themselves amply and without subtlety.
For two days this hero and my son traveled out on the plains alone. Back to my homestead they went, fighting rampaging gnolls all the way, until this brave hero was stricken, near unto death. My elder son, too, was injured. Only the grace of God saved the both of them, though in his unfathomable wisdom, they could not save my missing child from a cruel death in flames. Ted Gurdy vowed revenge and did kill those responsible. He brought the body of my dearest back for a fitting funeral.
In gratitude, my eldest has now pledged to serve this Ted Gurdy as his Page. The man is uncommonly brave, but as impious as he is stupid, and my son has said he would see him redeemed to faith in our wise God. Now I pray daily for them both, and I hold out hope that my boy might learn something more than just how to drink hard liquor from his new master.
I offered to pay him all of my life savings, including my wedding band from my dear departed husband, but he would have none of it.
Quote of the Day: "Lady, I feel terrible about your kid, I can't take your money. Keep it. I don't know.Maybe buy yourself a new kid or something."
Vengeance for Gnolls
The Irregulars who went West now leave Waldron and continue on to Wanderhalt which is the last edge of civilization before the wild and lawless Outlands. At the gates of Wanderhalt, the Irregulars make new contacts and recruit some able warriors.
Wanderhalt is unusually crowded and there is an hours wait and a new tax collected just to enter the city walls. It turns out that every merchant, pilgrim and homesteader in the surrounding environs is looking for asylum within Wanderhalt. Many waiting in line testify that something has disturbed gnolls from the Dark Wood and they have been making merciless raids across the plains.
Once in the city, the Irregulars seek respite from the road in a curious pub known as The Stone Francis. Aside from the usual food, drink and revelry, there is a man standing on a table and begging to be heard over the din. Most inside ignore him and his plea, but when he steps down from his makeshift podium, the Irregulars approach.
His name is Keaton Mallory. He explains that he is offering a bounty for any and all gnolls slain. He wants vengeance for the lives of his wife and daughter who were cruelly killed and half-eaten by the monsters. For a reward he has a sack of platinum pieces to offer. The party agrees to help at once, but the next morning, they find their employer robbed and hungover.
He assures them that though he is but a humble sustenance farmer, he has plenty of cash squirreled away to hire them. He will gladly pay, if they will but agree to accompany him to his homestead. Once on the plains, the party encounters a gnoll war party, puts it to the sword and begins to follow their tracks. As the days pass by, there is some division among the Irregulars. In the absence of real direction or a strong leader, Mallory attempts to take charge and is rather forcefully put down. Now in the wilderness he admits that there is more to the story than the party has been told.
Charmed by Lita, Mallory admits that he hasn’t farmed in a while. He actually served as a guide to a group of adventurers from Wanderhalt. That group raided the distant ruined city and made off with the golden gnoll god and various other treasures. The gnolls, he conjects, may be looking for their purloined deity. They followed him back to his homestead and killed his family.
With this admission, chaos breaks out and the Irregulars pile on to restrain Balok (their newest member) whose family was killed by maurading gnolls. No sooner do they have him held fast, when the bard Mai quietly backstabs Mallory and thus ends all debate.
Undaunted by the lack of an employer, the Irregulars continue toward the ruined city in search of gnolls. After killing a lone sentry they find themselves hatching plans to assault the stronghold. They may not have coins from Mallory to drive them, but many feel the gnolls depredations must be stopped and innocents protected.
Quote of the Day: “Gnomes… Gnolls… what’s the difference? Bring one to me and I’ll kill it.”
Wanderhalt is unusually crowded and there is an hours wait and a new tax collected just to enter the city walls. It turns out that every merchant, pilgrim and homesteader in the surrounding environs is looking for asylum within Wanderhalt. Many waiting in line testify that something has disturbed gnolls from the Dark Wood and they have been making merciless raids across the plains.
Once in the city, the Irregulars seek respite from the road in a curious pub known as The Stone Francis. Aside from the usual food, drink and revelry, there is a man standing on a table and begging to be heard over the din. Most inside ignore him and his plea, but when he steps down from his makeshift podium, the Irregulars approach.
His name is Keaton Mallory. He explains that he is offering a bounty for any and all gnolls slain. He wants vengeance for the lives of his wife and daughter who were cruelly killed and half-eaten by the monsters. For a reward he has a sack of platinum pieces to offer. The party agrees to help at once, but the next morning, they find their employer robbed and hungover.
He assures them that though he is but a humble sustenance farmer, he has plenty of cash squirreled away to hire them. He will gladly pay, if they will but agree to accompany him to his homestead. Once on the plains, the party encounters a gnoll war party, puts it to the sword and begins to follow their tracks. As the days pass by, there is some division among the Irregulars. In the absence of real direction or a strong leader, Mallory attempts to take charge and is rather forcefully put down. Now in the wilderness he admits that there is more to the story than the party has been told.
Charmed by Lita, Mallory admits that he hasn’t farmed in a while. He actually served as a guide to a group of adventurers from Wanderhalt. That group raided the distant ruined city and made off with the golden gnoll god and various other treasures. The gnolls, he conjects, may be looking for their purloined deity. They followed him back to his homestead and killed his family.
With this admission, chaos breaks out and the Irregulars pile on to restrain Balok (their newest member) whose family was killed by maurading gnolls. No sooner do they have him held fast, when the bard Mai quietly backstabs Mallory and thus ends all debate.
Undaunted by the lack of an employer, the Irregulars continue toward the ruined city in search of gnolls. After killing a lone sentry they find themselves hatching plans to assault the stronghold. They may not have coins from Mallory to drive them, but many feel the gnolls depredations must be stopped and innocents protected.
Quote of the Day: “Gnomes… Gnolls… what’s the difference? Bring one to me and I’ll kill it.”
Go West Young Demihumans
The morning comes as it always must. The Irregulars find themselves standing face to face with an armed party of dwarves. Thalwyn and Josif slip out in the confusion. Beleg agrees to accompany the Basin into Oromir to meet the Dwarf King. Mourning Elk accepts a Dwarf noble’s son as a token of safe conduct for Beleg.
The Forge of Oromir
Long reputed to be the hottest place in all Erenth, the volcano called the Forge of Oromir is the destination of the two parties of Lonely Street Irregulars who meet on the plains outside of Peakshadow. Together they journey up the seldom used Dwarven Road.
The Fate of the Prefect's Chest
The Lonely Street Irregulars are commissioned by the Prefect of Bolden to take a mysterious container to the volcano near Dun Oromir… and dump it into the fiery trench. Simon the Mage is sent with them on the Prefect’s Orders. For the first part of the journey, the Baron’s Reeve accompanies them, as well.
Bloodsucking Financiers
While Lita returns from her ancestral home and manages to insult the Lord Mayor of Bolden, (getting herself thrown in the cage for good measure) most of the Lonely Street Irregulars find themselves in Brambleton and it’s environs. Beleg and Shecky fight a zombie outside of town and then Shecky takes ill with the stomach flu and sits out. The rest of the Irregulars meet in and around the Cracked Mug where they run across Perkin and find that his last name is Koslowe. He is a well-known financier and money changer.
The Lies of Lundinium
While two of their number were in Brambleton (and a third was lost along the way) the rest of
The Lonely Street Irregulars found themselves waiting on intelligences and dispatches from two unlikely sources in Bolden: the Guild and the Church. The wait was four weeks, during which time the party acquainted themselves with Gawayne Newton, a bard from regions unknown. The ranger Mourning Elk, not one to stay long in cities, made a name for himself among the local farmers, both for his generosity and his protection from a trio of rogue bears that had been preying upon their flocks.
The Lonely Street Irregulars found themselves waiting on intelligences and dispatches from two unlikely sources in Bolden: the Guild and the Church. The wait was four weeks, during which time the party acquainted themselves with Gawayne Newton, a bard from regions unknown. The ranger Mourning Elk, not one to stay long in cities, made a name for himself among the local farmers, both for his generosity and his protection from a trio of rogue bears that had been preying upon their flocks.
Guild Entanglements
While it is not impossible to be a rogue in the Eight Kingdoms without Guild sponsorship, it is quite difficult. This fact did not escape Thalwyn who sought out the sponsorship for training, nor did it escape the notice of the Halfling Sheckleford, who joined merely to avoid unnecessary harrassment.
The Assassins Trail
In Bolden the party was approached by a mysterious figure named Thalwyn. He offered to hire the party to help him seek a dark elf assassin called Nivin. Nivin was alleged to be responsible for the death of a very important person connected to the Church — some rumors indicate that it might be the Patriarch himself. This assassin is to be brought, “bruised but not broken” to Bolden to answer for his crimes. The party consented to help Thalwyn and set out for Brambleton – the assassin’s supposed base of operations.
Me Tell about da Big Party by Josif
Me an’ Thalwee da ulf come back from we latest fights when we Uncle Bups asks we to lean on da bean in da whole ’nother town. If we is do dis, we is paid 12 hunert crowns. Da bean is name Perkin. Da problem is da bean is right close to dat 'nother town’s Arch.
The Lure of Lundinium
While holding over in Bolden, the party heard that the nearby town of Lundinium was beset by a terrible curse. Travelers from there can only relate that they believe it to be related to goblins. Having recently buttered their bread with goblin hordes, the players set out to see what they might do for the townspeople in peril.
A Narrow Escape
Lost in the dark and unable to find an exit, the adventurers faced the daunting task of fighting their way out of goblin infested catacombs and perhaps eventually facing the Three Horde Chieftains— enigmatic figures who seem to rule the various tribes. While surveying the damage to their last opponents, however, they discovered what remains of a cookfire and followed the smoke stained path up the chimney.
Backstory: Thalwyn
From the Scrolls of the Church in Peakshadow...
I Bartleby, priest and scribe, write this tale with my own hand that you may know it is true and may trust the words herein. All of this took place before the dark times we know, when the Church was still young.
I Bartleby, priest and scribe, write this tale with my own hand that you may know it is true and may trust the words herein. All of this took place before the dark times we know, when the Church was still young.
Dwarven Intrigue
The adventurers holed up in the safety of their purged Dwarf temple and used it as a base of operations for incursions against the orc tribes with great success. They found that they were able to launch assaults from their base and fall back to it in order to rest and find healing. As time went on, they realized that their bodies are able to mend at twice the normal rate so long as they are in the temple proper.
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