# WarEagleMage's Adventures in Darkmoon Vale (gaming with my kids)



## WarEagleMage (Aug 9, 2011)

While I have been contemplating running a Pathfinder game for my kids for some time now, this year’s GenCon got me so stoked that I couldn’t wait for the Beginner Box, and we began play today. My first thought was to just simply run a couple of combats for the kids. As we were setting up, one of my son’s friends came over and he wanted to play, too. After making characters and running through a very basic combat scenario, all the kids were hooked. He had to leave after lunch, and I packed up the battle mat and minis, only to have one of my daughter’s friends stop by. Now she wanted to try it out. So we dragged out everything, whipped up a PC for her, and did the same thing. By the time we finished, my son’s friend called and wanted to come back over and play some more. They all “got it” the first time through, so I decided just go ahead and run an adventure. I happen to have the Pathfinder “D” series “Hollow’s Last Hope” and the Kobold King adventures handy, so I figured that would be a good place to start. After the first brief session - and their first real encounter - the kids were whooping it up, and they were really bummed when I had to send them all home for supper. Since I play in a game every Sunday with the (in)famous Jollydoc, my kids began to ask me when we were going to have OUR regular game night. I am currently in negotiations with the wife on that. This is my first storyhour to write, so I hope that you readers enjoy it. Constructive feedback is always appreciated.

Dramatis Personae:
I didn’t have the kids really think up too much about backstories or anything, and their characters’ personalities pretty much reflect their own at this point, so I’ll give you the character and the corresponding child.

Gorb – Male Human Sorcerer. Played by my son. Age 11. Somewhat tentative, but growing into his immense potential. Already appreciates that magic missile always hits.

Jorge – Male Half-Orc Fighter. Played by my son’s friend. Age 12. Wasn’t sure about playing a fighter at first, but quickly found that hacking heads was pretty fun. Thinks it’s cool that his character can swing a sword or use his tusks to bite your face off.

Kendall – Female Human Ranger. Played by my daughter. Age 8. Cautious at first, but starting to see the possibilities. Prefers to hang back with her longbow, but has a greatsword handy…just in case.

Megan – Female Human Rogue. Played by my daughter’s friend. Age 10. Would rather ask for forgiveness than permission. Thinks that sneak attack is better than ice cream.

Father Fortis – Male Human Cleric of Milani. Played as a DMPC to provide sage advice and healing to these young adventurers.


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## JollyDoc (Aug 10, 2011)

Excellent! More minions for my ever-growing army of the undead!!


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 10, 2011)

Hollow’s Last Hope Part I.
The four young travelers were tired and hungry. They made their way through the small town of Falcon’s Hollow looking for some place they could find food and a comfortable chair. It didn’t take them long to find the leaning, ramshackle inn the locals called the Jak’a’Napes. The group had no sooner found them a table, than the owner of the establishment waddled over and introduced himself.

“Jak Crimmy, proprietor, at your service,” said the pleasant, balding man. “You look like you could use a bite.”

“Indeed,” responded a sandy-haired young man wearing only light clothing and a cloak. “What’s your specialty”?

“Well, that’d be my cinnamon crusted flapjacks, but it’s a bit late in the day for that. If you’re planning to spend the night then you can have some for breakfast. There is roasted duck, meatloaf, and my spicy barley soup – oh, never mind that - no soup, sorry.”

“It must be pretty good if you already ran out today,” quipped a freckled girl in a blackened chain shirt.

“Well, it is good – if I do say so myself, but it’s more on account of bad water at the spring. It’ll make you sick, they say. One old fella actually coughed himself to death. Some others are sick, too. Now they’ve closed off the spring until they can find a cure.”

An older man sitting at the bar turned to Jak, and said “I might be of service to you folks.” He walked over and introduced himself. “Father Fortis, friar of Milani. I’m a fair healer. What seems to be the problem”?

“I just know what they tell me,” said Jak, “but the local witch – I mean herbalist – seems to know what it is. Whether or not she can cure it is another matter.”

“Witch?” asked Father Fortis, his brow furrowed, and his tone was suspicious.

Jak frowned and said, “Laurel is not evil or anything, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, well, it’s just that she seems more interested in selling her snake oils and in hoodoo quackery than in genuine healing. And her grandmother was a witch – I’ve heard that on good authority. Laurel uses her grandmother’s recipes, so who knows…”

“Well, maybe she needs some help,” said Fortis. “How about you kids help me help them, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

The four exchanged looks around the table. While mildly insulting, it was more or less true. 
The sandy-haired young man introduced his friends: “This is Jorge,” the big half-orc waved and grinned through two massive tusks. He had a longsword strapped to his hip, and a well-used shield leaned against the table. “Kendall,” a pretty girl with her hair cropped short in studded leather armor. Her longbow and greatsword contrasted with her slight build. “Megan”, the freckled girl smiled up at him. She wore a rapier on one hip, a shortsword on the other, and she looked like she knew how to use them. “And I’m Gorb – sorcerer extraordinaire.” 

“Well, at least you’re a confident bunch,” the cleric smiled through his white moustaches. “Eat up, and then let’s find this herbalist.”


After a quick meal, the group of five headed out to find Laurel’s shop. It was easy to spot because a line of townsfolk snaked down the street. Many had small children crying in their laps. An old couple huddled together on the ground, the man held a bloodstained cloth to his mouth. 
The group looked at the line, and Megan said, “We can’t wait. If we’re going to help these people, we need to get inside.”

“But we can’t just barge in there,” said Jorge.

“Let me handle this,” spoke Gorb. He flashed a winning smile and headed for the shop. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Delivery coming through.” There were a few grumbles along the line, but the crowd parted enough for them to get in the door.

The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense choked the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatus, and glassware. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts filled high shelves and tables. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe-looking spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busied herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman snapped angrily, “And what’s your problem?”

“What’s yours, lady,” Kendall growled.

Gorb stepped forward, putting a restraining hand on the ranger. “Wait a minute. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here.” Laurel’s eyes flashed, but she said nothing. The sorcerer continued, “We know that this plague has everyone frightened, and you look dreadfully busy. Maybe we can help. What can you tell us about the disease?”

Laurel eyed him skeptically, but replied, “Well, I pretty sure it’s blackscour taint. Comes from a fungus that’s not good for anything. Hard, bitter and sharp, it likes the water and gets you sick if you drink it down. Never heard of it growing in these parts, though, until now.”

“I know something of healing and illness myself,” said Father Fortis. How does the sickness progress?”

“You get the mold growing in you,” answered Laurel. “It starts eating away in your chest and belly and is determined to stay. Your body near turns itself inside out trying to hack the stuff up, but all that does it cuts your guts up – bad.”

“So, do you have a cure?” Asked Fortis.

“No, I’ve tried nearly everything I know.”

“Nearly?” said Megan.

“Well, my grandmother’s book has a brew in it that says it’s good for this kind of thing. A weird concoction that sounds more like magic than real medicine. It’s got a bunch of rare stuff in it. Some of which I have here, but there are three ingredients I don’t have. Elderwood moss, which supposedly only grows on the oldest tree in a forest. A specially pickled root called “Rat’s Tail”. And seven ironbloom mushrooms, stunty little things that only grow in dark places thick with metal – a favorite among Dwarves, or so I hear.”

Kendall, the ranger, spoke up, “We are in Darkmoon Vale, and there has to be an oldest tree in this old forest. We just have to find it. What about the other items?”

Laurel thought for a minute. “Way north, towards the mountains, people say there used to live a bunch of Dwarves. They aren’t there anymore, but I’d bet that if you can find ironbloom mushrooms anywhere around here, that’d be your best bet. As for the “Rat’s Tail”, who knows? Well, actually, Ulizmila, the witch that lives deep in the woods might. She’s a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might have some. She taught my granny all she knew, so she’s got to be ancient by now.”

“That gives us something to go on,” said Father Fortis. “We’ll see if we can get these items for you.”

“Just hurry. The sickness is getting worse. The incubation period is less than a week, so you’d better hurry if you want to save these people. Tell you what, if you get the stuff, and if this potion works, I’ll even cut you in on the profit – say thirty gold each."

“Fair enough,” said Gorb. The others nodded their agreement.

As they exited the shop, the line was still there. Megan looked at the wretched sick, and her face set in a determined scowl. “We have to help these people – no matter what stands in our way.”


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 10, 2011)

The party outfitted themselves at the Goosen’n’Gander, and the helpful owner, a gnome by the name of Brickasnurd Hildrinsocks, set them on their way towards the Lumber Consortium camp north of town. He told them to seek out a friend of his, Milom Rhoddam, one of the most experienced woodsmen in Darkmoon Vale. If anyone knew the whereabouts of the oldest tree in the forest, he would.

The journey was easy along the well-traveled lumber road, and they arrived at the camp just in time for dinner. The Lumber Consortium camp cut an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy log buildings – a bunkhouse, mess hall, office, barn, and smithy – stood with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust covered clearing. 

A group of burly lumberjacks crossed the road, and one barrel-chested man with a bright red beard challenged the party, “What’s yer bidness here, young’uns?”

Jorge, bared his tusks, but Gorb quickly intervened, and flashed his easy smile. “We’re here to see Milom Rhoddam. Can you point us in the right direction?”
The big man looked at them suspiciously, then jerked his thumb in the direction of the mess hall. “He’s eatin’. Git yerself a bite while yer here.” With that, the loggers continued on their way.

The mess hall was surprisingly clean, and the food was hot and hearty. The cook pointed out a serious-looking man eating by himself. “Tha’s yer man, there.”

The group walked over and again Gorb did the talking. “Milom Rhoddam?” The man nodded, and motioned for them to sit down.

“We heard that you might be able to help us out,” continued the sorcerer. “My ranger friend here is looking for the oldest tree in this great forest.”

Milom sopped his plate with a thick slice of black bread, and said, “You can miss it. Thing’s huge. Head directly northwest from here through the forest – no roads in there – and you’ll run smack into it.” He took a long pull from his mug and said, “How’re things in town? Last I heard, people were getting sick. My brother’s boy is coming down with it. He got word yesterday and he’s pretty tore up about it.”

“Actually, we’re looking for some ingredients for a cure,” Father Fortis offered. “Elderwood moss is just one thing. We are also looking for some forest witch, and ironbloom mushrooms from the dwarven ruins.”

The woodsman thought for a minute, and then asked for a scrap of paper. “Let me draw you a map. It’s not perfect, but it’ll get you near enough. The witches hut is pretty creepy. All the loggers stay well clear of it. We don’t log near the mountains on account of all the critters up there, but I know about where the ruins are.”

The group thanked Milom for the map. Fortis said, “Hopefully we can find Laurel what she needs to make the cure, for your nephew and all the rest.”

“I hope so,” the woodsman said. “It’s late. We have a couple of empty bunks, so you can sleep here tonight and set out first thing in the morning.”

The day dawned wet and cool as the party set out into the forest. Kendall was a skilled tracker, and with the help of Milom’s map, she guided them unerringly northwest, finding several game trails to make travel faster in the dense forest. 

After several hours, Kendall stopped short, “Did you hear that?”

The others halted and strained their ears. Then they heard the noise. It sounded like a dog whimpering.

“Careful,” whispered Kendall, as she moved toward the sound. The others followed behind as quietly as possible. Up ahead, the trail opened into a small clearing. The whimpering grew louder. Not far from the edge of the clearing, a fox with large ears and bright orange fur lay bleeding, its hindquarters caught in the jaws of a crude iron trap. Kendall said to the others, “That’s a firefoot fennec. They are unique to these woods. Notice the extra large ears. They are supposed to be very smart animals, and symbols of good fortune.”

“Well, that one wasn’t so fortunate, was he?” chuckled Jorge.

The others glared at him, and the half orc just shrugged. “So, are they good eatin’?”

“You brutish…” Kendall’s curse was cut off as a black arrow whizzed past her ear.

Jorge quickly pushed her back and raised his shield to defend the party.

Before any of them could react, two oversized rats came bounding out of the underbrush and immediately attacked the half orc fighter. One ran solidly into Jorge’s heavy shield, and the other snapped viciously at his legs.

Megan thought she saw a movement in the woods up ahead, and quickly slipped into the woods to circle around behind whoever was shooting at them. She moved with a fluid grace, weaving soundlessly through the trees with murder on her mind.

Gorb was surprised by the sudden attack, and he was blocked by the others along the trail. Still, he could see the rats, and that was all he needed. Speaking the language of the fire elementals from whose eldritch heritage he drew his power, Gorb pointed at the rats and a pure white missile of force magic hit its target. The bolt knocked the rat over and down with hardly a sound.

Another black arrow came from the darkness of the woods, and thunked into Jorge’s shield. As he was momentarily distracted, the surviving rat darted forward and bit the back of the half orc’s leg. Jorge managed to swing wildly with his sword, but only nicked the crazed animal.

As Megan moved, she was watching for another arrow so that she could pinpoint her quarry. When the second arrow hit Jorge’s shield, she was ready. There. Twenty feet in front of her, a hobgoblin with a bow was in the process of cursing and reloading. He was watching the group on the trail, and didn’t notice the freckled rogue sneaking up behind him until her rapier pierced his black heart. Grung Knifetongue, scourge of Darkmoon Vale wouldn’t notice anything ever again. 

The last rat fell under Jorge’s blows, but already the fighter wasn’t feeling so well.

“Did it get you, son?” Asked Father Fortis. He quickly knelt to look at the wound. “This is not good, not good at all.”

“Why? And why do I feel sick?” asked the half orc. He was looking a paler shade of greenish than usual.

“Looks like filth fever,” said Fortis. “It’ll make you weak for a day or two, but you’re pretty tough. A little rest will do you good.”

“Too bad we don’t have time to rest,” said Kendall. “Those sick people in the town are counting on us.”

Jorge spit on his hand and wiped it on the shallow, festering wound. “I’ll be fine,” he said with a toothy grin.

Megan strolled casually out of the woods, dragging the dead hobgoblin behind her. “Got him.”

The others clapped and cheered, and an astute observer might just have noticed a faint blush behind her freckles.


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 13, 2011)

After a week's worth of being hounded by my kids and the neighbors, we got to game again tonight.  The kids were really excited, and they dove right in where they left off.  I printed out the story hour in booklet format during the week, so they all had a chance to read over their adventures.  While I embellished some of the dialogue, the actions were all theirs, and they seemed to enjoy reading about their characters' exploits.  The party continued their quest for the components to the antidote, and got quite a long way before we had to call it a night - my son and Jorge's player have their first soccer game of the season in the morning.  We may even finish up tomorrow afternoon if we can get everyone together.  I'll work on the write-up over the weekend.  Thanks for following along!


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 16, 2011)

Hollow’s Last Hope Part 2.
The companions set about setting the fennec free. Kendall calmed the animal by cooing softly, and cradling its head in her lap. Meanwhile, Jorge pried open the jaws of the wicked trap, and Father Fortis channeled healing energy that revitalized the fox and the half orc fighter. The fennec leaped to its feet and bounded into the forest. “We should follow her lead,” said Father Fortis. “This has taken valuable time.”
After consulting Milom’s map, Kendall confidently led them towards the eldest tree in the forest.
The dense trees and thick brush of the forest gave way, parting seemingly in respect for the titanic darkwood tree that dominated the clearing. Several times taller than a temple minaret, in one direction the obviously ancient tree reached to the sky with branches like a giant’s arms, while in the other it plumbed the earth with roots thicker than a man’s waist. Its limbs broad and strong, its bark thick and so richly colored as to almost be black, and its leaves the size of small shields, the giant darkwood was less a tree and more a natural cathedral of boughs and branches.
Kendall and the others stood in awe of the massive tree. They did not know the ancient legends that this tree was said to have been carried as a sapling from the Hissing Jungle and planted here in the distant past. The druids that once guarded the forest claimed this darkwood to be the root from which all of Darkmoon grew.

Green eyes filled with cunning intelligence watched the party from the shadowy branches of the tree. The tatzlwyrm slowly slithered its way down a massive branch, using its powerful forelimbs for purchase. The group was spread out around the massive tree, looking intently at the ground and the trunk, and never noticing the deadly predator lurking above. A young human girl was bent over, totally exposed. The tatzlwyrm could grab her and yank her into the tree before the others could react if it timed its strike just right…
“Hey guys! I found it,” shouted Megan as she bent over the thick grey moss. She stood up in excitement, just as massive teeth snapped at where her head had been. “Aaaaaaah!” she screamed.

The twelve foot dragon-kin missed its target by inches, and fell to the ground with a massive crash. Megan jumped away and drew her blades, but the tatzlwyrm was faster, and it struck at the rogue like a viper, biting her squarely in the chest. Megan twisted her body as the beast tried to constrict her, and managed to spin away, blood running freely from her grievous wound.
Fortis was closest, and he roared his battle cry and charged the serpent, hoping to distract it from the girl. He also channeled healing energy to save Megan’s life. Kendall saw the massive thing drop from the tree at her friend, and quickly raised her bow. When Fortis charged, the creature rose up to meet the challenge, and it offered her a clear shot. The ranger’s arrow flew straight and true, and pierced the back of the tatzlwyrm’s head like a ripe melon, emerging cleanly from the front. The serpent went down instantly in a lifeless heap.
“What a shot!” exclaimed Jorge. The fighter never even had a chance to draw his blade, but he placed a hand on Kendall’s shoulder and said, “Really. Nice. Shot.” 

Megan recovered from her shock, and also thanked Fortis and Kendall for their help. “That’s why we make a great team,” said Kendall. The party then gathered several bunches of the elderwood moss and placed it in their packs. 
“One down,” said Gorb. “Still two ingredients to go.” 

*************************************************************************************
The sounds of the forest became suddenly distant as the trees parted, and opened in to a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood – all typically sturdy woods – twisted away from the clearing as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squatted an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangled bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes – each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent – stood propped in the yard, and kept guard before a rickety plank door.

“Now that’s just creepy,” said Gorb. The others nodded their agreement.
“I don’t know,” mused Jorge, “The place does have a rustic sort of charm.”
“Whatever,” said Megan as she pushed her way past the big fighter. “Let’s talk to this witch and get the Rat’s Tail root. We’ve got a town to save.”
Before the others could stop her, she marched straight across the yard, past the strange fetishes, and banged on the door. Nothing happened. “Hey! Witch!” Megan yelled. Still nothing.
The others quickly caught up, and the group considered their options.
“Maybe she’s out,” said Gorb. “But we really don’t have time to wait for her.”
“Nope,” said Jorge matter-of-factly, and he simply ripped the door off its rotting hinges. Inside, the cottage was dank, reeking, and filled with shadows. Of course, the half-orc could see into the dark room just fine. Haphazardly hung shelves lined the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum’s worth of other crude curios. A rusted iron cauldron with a mouth nearly five feet wide, dominated the hut’s single room. Across from the door, against the far wall, stood a high-backed chair made of wicker, the gigantic carved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sat what looked like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, sprouting patches of thick white mold. “Um, guys, this doesn’t look good,” Jorge called out to the others.

After cautiously checking out the corpse, they determined that it was just a bunch of rags stuffed with straw and herbs. Then they set about trying to find the Rat’s Tail in the massive collection of junk. As soon as Megan touched one of the jars, she heard a metallic grinding sound behind her. The rogue just managed to sidestep the great cauldron as it launched itself at the intruders. Jorge quickly smashed the giant iron pot with his sword, but his blade clanged off the rusty metal leaving barely a scratch. Fortis’ morning star was hardly more effective, but at least his blow left a satisfactory dent. The only thing that seemed to work were Gorb’s repeated acid splashes that left hissing, scorched pits in the metal. Eventually, the massive cauldron gave a last grinding shudder, and stopped moving.

Gorb surveyed the destruction wrought by the animated pot and shook his head. “If we thought it was going to be tough to find the Rat’s Tail in here before…” Then he had an idea. The sorcerer closed his eyes, tapped into his magic, and reached out with his mind, seeking any magical energies within the hut. When he opened them, he saw innumerable dim blue glows and one distinctly brighter aura. “Much magic has been performed in this tiny hut,” said Gorb. “Most of it is long past, but there,” he pointed to a lower shelf, obscured by a jar full of some jelly-like substance, “there is something still here.” 
Megan bent down to search, and she pulled out an ancient pair of stockings riddled with moth holes. “These are magical – really?” she asked, holding up the rotting socks between her thumb and forefinger, a grimace of disgust on her face.
“No, no, not those – those,” he said, pointing to a pair of leather arm bands that had fallen out of the stockings when she picked them up. The sorcerer concentrated a second and then said, “Those bracers are magical, but they won’t work with regular armor. I could use a pair of those.” 

Megan tossed them to Gorb and he tried them on. “I don’t feel any different, but they can’t hurt, right?”

“Whatev…Hey!” The rogue looked up on the shelf above her. There was a rack of small jars, and each was labeled in a neat, spidery script. The first was “pilot’s thumb”, a human digit suspended in thick, clear liquid. Megan shuddered and continued her search of the jars, reading them out one by one. “Fenny snake, eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, tongue of dog, adder’s fork, blindworm’s sting, lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing. This is just nasty!” Among others, she spotted baboon’s blood, and then – “rat’s tail!” she exclaimed triumphantly.


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## WarEagleMage (Aug 20, 2011)

It was fun to have parents texting me this morning to find out if we were gaming tonight. Apparently, the kids were not letting them make plans because Friday night is game night, duh! 

Anyway, we did get to play, and they finished Hollow's Last Hope. The guys had some dicey moments, but they learned some valuable role playing lessons: don't split the party, don't charge the big bad all by yourself, and it's kinda important to keep track of your (lack of) hit points. I'll try and get things written up this weekend.


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## ellinor (Aug 21, 2011)

This is a fun read!  Thanks for sharing it with us.


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## Tamlyn (Sep 2, 2011)

ellinor said:


> This is a fun read!  Thanks for sharing it with us.




Ditto! I'm enjoying it too. Thanks for taking the time to write it up for us.


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