# seasong's Light Against The Dark (FEB 06)



## seasong

I have started a new thread for Part II and now Part III. Read through this one, then start on that those, and enjoy!

Here is the Theralis website. It contains information on the setting and the d20 house rules in use.

Those of you just arriving might be interested in catching up with the PDF Narrative version, with all of the commentary editted out. It's about 29 pages and 13,000 words currently.

In brief summary, this campaign is starting in the city-state Theralis, which is located on a mountainous peninsula. Most of the peninsula is wilderness - Theralis is a grape vine valley that has been largely civilized.

The PCs start as young (16 year old) soldiers of Theralis, near the end of their one-year term of Service (all citizens serve a year as part of adulthood). All three have a birthmark of a circle with four lines around it, the symbol of Allas (goddess of the sun, and of prophecy), and will eventually become great adventurers.


----------



## seasong

Adventurers are reasonably well known as a social phenomenon. There are plenty of ruins from past Ages hidden in the wilderness, and every generation sees its share of runaways who want to find it. Since the wilderness is honestly dangerous, most don't make it.

Edit: the below changed - the players are starting the campaign as soldiers as the adventure starts.

The PCs are a group of young friends from Theralis and its subject valleys who have banded together to just such a purpose. They have, or tell themselves they have, a bit of an edge over the typical adventuresome child, however... richly symbolic birthmarks. Each of them has a birthmark that strongly resembles Allas' sun sigil (a circle with four rays stretching out from it).

The campaign will be starting in Theralis, where they have just finished purchasing what they can with their saved coinage.


----------



## sparhawk

*woohoo new story hour*

Hey this sounds good so far, the back ground of your world sounds great. Are you going to post anything on the characters?


----------



## seasong

As I receive the characters, I will be posting them here.


----------



## seasong

*Merideth of Southbottom:* A pale, willowy girl with an unruly shock of short black hair and dark eyes. Still awkward looking, but reasonably pretty. Has the birthmark on her left calf.

Merideth was born in the backwater, southernmost valley of Theralis, to a servant's family at a vineyard. As a child she alternated between washing other people's clothes and taking walks among the ancient trees, before apprenticing to a mindworker at age twelve. She spent three years studying to be an esper, and is now ready to spend her obligatory term in the Theralis military.

Merideth tries to hide her low birth origins, but still has a hint of backwater accent.

System Notes: Merideth rolled one high stat (WIS 17), but is pretty average (9-12) everywhere else. She is a mixed spell caster, learning healing and esper spells in roughly equal measure.

Healers: Cure and inflict spells, primarily, with a smattering of other stuff like _delay poison_. The most common type of spell caster, with 1 in 500 people being one. Healers higher than 5th level are exceedingly rare, and things like _raise dead_ are the stuff of legends. Healers are reasonably useful in combat, as they usually have no components other than touch and concentration. Combat healers typically learn the quicken metamagic feat early in their career, as well.

Espers: Lots and lots of sensory, divination, intuition and similar such spells. Some telepathic stuff (including _charm_ and _sleep_). Espers are thematically related to healers (they draw on the same inner source), but are far rarer. Espers are not well known or well trusted... and most people find their agressive powers icky.

I have other two characters ready, but they have not yet been _named_, so I'm just waiting on that. One is a wannabe warrior hero and the other is an arcanist (the "real mage" type).


----------



## seasong

*Greppa of Tartwater:* A tall _ellini_ (at 5'2") with dark caramel skin, close-shorn auburn hair and dark eyes. Scrawny even for an _ellini_, with a half-grown look about him. Has the birthmark on the upper right area of his chest, below the collar line.

Greppa was born to an upper class family in the northernmost part of the valley, the youngest child of seven. As a talented, intelligent young man, he has spent most of his life studying to be an arcanist, as well as competing in youth quarterstaff competitions.

System Notes: Greppa has two unusually high stats (WIS 18, INT 16, including _ellini_ bonuses to each), and is generally good everywhere except musclular development (STR 6, including _ellini_ penalties). Greppa is a skilled arcanist and mediocre with a quarterstaff.

Arcanist: Dimensional "tapping" spells, primarily evocations and summonings. Arcanists are rare due to the intelligence required to be particularly good at them.


----------



## seasong

A note on spells: I like spells to be personalized and themed. A character may know _magic missile_, sure, but more specifically, he knows _lesser shadow killer_. He draws an arcane circle in the air, and a sigil in the center, from which spews one or more small shadow creatures which unerringly track to their targets and deliver a chilling life force attack before disappearing back to their dark home plane. A few tweaks (affected by _protection from outsider_ effects, not affected by _shield_), and I've got a lovely new spell.

Greppa, as an arcanist with a lot of variety, will be more affected by this than Merideth the esper/healer.


----------



## seasong

*Athan of Little Lake:* A burly farmboy with sheepshorn blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes, intense freckles. Built like a young ram and possessed of the grace of a cat, Athan is delicious to watch, whether he's heaving barrels of wine or hopping fences. Has the birthmark on his left shoulderblade.

Athan was born at Little Lake, which is really more of a stopgap in the river a bit south of Theralis. He's a good, solid kid from a good, solid family.

System Notes: Athan has excellent physical stats (STR 16, DEX 15, CON 17), but is otherwise average. He is one of the best youth quarterstaffers in the Theralis region, and has even had a good showing against a few veterans of the adult competitions. He's spent most of his life hunting with his Atmos-worshipping mother, but his current plans are to become a career soldier instead.


----------



## seasong

*PROLOGUE*
*Merideth's Trail*

_At this point, the characters do not know each other. I will be giving each one an introductory space, before starting on the campaign._

It takes a full day to hike upriver out of the southmost valley, into Theralis proper. And once you get out, you're surrounded by sophisticated houses and people that dismiss you for your way of talking. Three more days of that to reach Theralis.

Merideth slept on the road the whole way, ate what she had in her sack, and then just went hungry for the last day. Still, she got her wish: no one saw her along the way, no one knew she came from Southbottom... and when she entered the military rolls in Theralis instead of Southbottom, no one ever would.

And there was an additional bonus as well: the city was beautiful. She studied it from the river banks, before ascending the steep mountainside to the gates. Brilliant white bridges and narrow towers of darker stone formed the bulk of the skyline, with huddled stone construction amassed below that. And more people than Merideth had ever seen, arrayed in all of their cosmopolitan splendor... she'd listened to stories about different peoples, of course, but so few of them ever visited Southbottom that...

She fiercely reminded herself that her place of residence was now, and ever would be, Northwood. She'd studied it carefully, and while it wasn't backwater, the people there seemed isolationist enough to not know a few neighbors.

With that reminder tucked away, she reached the gate. It was really more of a formality, really - the road passed through the gate, but there was no wall other than the minimum to hold the doors. Still, the lanky gentleman standing there, armed with sharp spear and unblemished mail armor, treated it with all seriousness for each visitor. "Good morning, lass, and good day. Business in the city?"

"Entering Service, sir, today is my fifteenth."

The gentleman smiled at her, stamped his spear, "Well then, lass, I expect you'll be paying no tax today. In you go!"

Inside the city, bliss turned to confusion swiftly. The buildings, so pristinely white or dark from afar, were a jumbled mass up close, with no landmarks recognizable to a woods-trained eye. Merideth walked slowly, incurring the wrath of a number of good people, before finally spotting a soldier.

"Excuse me, sir, but I'm here to enter Service today. Can you tell me where to go?"

The soldier, barely older than she, regarded Merideth with bored disdain for too long, before interrupting her repeated query with a gusty sigh, "Here, I'll walk you there. Why'd you come to the city for this?"

"I'm from Northwood. That's close enough that I might as well!"

He looked at her again, but didn't comment. If she was from Northwood, she was a poor example of the breed.

They walked in silence, before he jerked to a stop and pointed, "There, that building." Then he left.

Merideth, ears still burning, headed to the unmarked little tower.


----------



## incognito

good writing seaasong-san,

can you post the L1 PCs in Rogue gallery please?

You may want to post the class advancement changed there too!


----------



## Greybar

Seasong - nice start.

I was glancing at your home page for more Theralis info... just a nudge.  

John


----------



## seasong

*incognito:* Thank you! I'm not going to be posting the PC stats just yet; I need to get the web site up first, so people can see the house rules, and I also want the party to get accustomed to each other without convenient rule summaries .

*Greybar:* I'm working on it. I've got too many irons in the fire .


----------



## incognito

Is it too early to start whining about posting an update 

See what happens when you begin a story hour?  they gain momentum and BOOM!  You aleady have fanboys.


----------



## seasong

I'm going to try to put up Athan's Duty sometime this afternoon or evening, or tomorrow morning at the latest. Greppa's Ambition will be up sometime this weekend. I should also have the website marginally ready for its public by then (fingers crossed).

I usually run a bit of a Prologue for any new team, to get them accustomed to each other and establish some bonds with each other. I'll probably summarize that here in 1-2 posts, before getting to Chapter One: Mountain's Thunder.

Chapter One, incidentally, is when the Bad Things start .


----------



## seasong

Yes, it's too early to start whining. You have to wait _at least_ 24 hours.


----------



## incognito

*Chapter 1*



> Chapter One, incidentally, is when the Bad Things start .




Heh, isn't it always.  As a side note, I like the way you have structured the world such that low level PCs _have_ to stay near town, because the wilderness is geninely dangerous, and would/might shred them. 

Low death rate world for PCs, I expect.


----------



## seasong

I encourage players to invest a fair amount of emotion in their PCs, and part of that is keeping death meaningful, and life precious.

On the other hand, the low-level PCs won't be staying near town...


----------



## seasong

*PROLOGUE*
*Athan's Duty*

_At this point, the characters do not know each other. I will be giving each one an introductory space, before starting on the campaign._

The morning began as any other. Athan split wood for an hour, milked goats, checked for frost on the vines, then settled in for breakfast with his family. Everyone laughed a little more than usual, and the effort was plain, but morning, at least, would be normal.

Not that military duty was unusual. Everyone older than Athan in the family had done it, and this year was unlikely to even be particularly dangerous. But Athan had informed his mother and father last night of his intent to go career, and his mother had strongly, loudly, passionately disapproved.

So now there was some tension.

Athan's mother was a big-boned, muscular woman, a wolver and servant of Atmos. She did not approve of too much society or too much militant order, and "too much" wasn't much, in her opinion.

After breakfast cleared, Athan began to pack while the other kids worked on house chores, and winced as he felt his mother's presence behind him.

"It's always your choice, Athan..." she began, an impatient buzz to her voice.

He interrupted, somewhat angrily, "But _my_ choice is the wrong one, right? I know what I'm good at, Mom, and I know what I want to do!"

Louder, she yelled, "I just don't think you should commit to such a drastic choice at your age! Give it some time! Could you even _try_ to..."

The argument went on, while everyone else in the house politely ignored it. Athan's younger brother (of three boys, Athan being the middle) silently resolved to never, ever, ever tell their mother _his_ plans until they were already in motion. Athan had always been too honest, too forward, for his own good.

Quickly enough, however, morning ended, and Athan had finished fighting, packing and saying goodbye to his family. He stepped out into a brisk noon day, and hiked down the road from his family's Little Lake farm to the local military outpost.

Shortly thereafter, he was registered, and he and the four other fifteen year olds were sent north, to Theralis. Athan smiled as his feet hit the first few yards of road... he was off to meet his destiny!


----------



## incognito

How far along this adventure are the characters, seasong?  HOw many sessions?


----------



## seasong

We'll be finishing all of the prologue stuff this weekend. Hopefully I will also get to get started on Chapter One.

Average 1 1/2 sessions, 2 as of this weekend.

I'm already falling behind .


----------



## seasong

*Gods & Spirits*

*Planes of Existence*

The _material realm_ is the one we are accustomed to. The mountains that you can see with your own eyes, the dirt you can pick up with your own hands. Everything that is well known is in this realm.

Co-existing with this is the _ethereal realm_, the insubstantial plane of ghosts and spirits. Your mind, anchored to your body and bound in its material "stuff", exists in the ethereal. Ethereal objects which are not bound into an object are insubstantially visible as wispy, transparent things.

The _ethereal realm_ is one dimensional slice away from our own, and has unknown properties. Connected to it in other dimensional directions are the many planes. Of these, only a few are known and detailed herein.

The _celestial realm_ is where the gods dwell. According to most research and theological understandings, the gods constructed it in the ethereal and then divided it from the normal ethereal as the eldest gods once parted land from sea. The _celestial realm_ is actually numerous realms of the same nature, each one owned by a particular god, or jointly owned by several.

The _infernal realm_ is the prison of the older gods, whom the current gods overthrew and destroyed. The serpent _YS_ dwells there, as does the great wolf _Abthyr_, and many others.

The _elemental planes_ are almost connecter to the _material realm_, with the veil thinnest where great amounts of the element are strongest. Thus, deep beneath the ground, the veil between the _material realm_ and the _elemental plane of earth_ are very thin indeed. The _elemental planes_ are similar to the _celestial realm_, but provide their owners with far, far more power. Xeras, Peladas, Hethas and Phastas each possess one of the _elemental planes_ as well as a demesnes in the _celestial realm_.

All of the realms and planes are geographically limited in scope as regards the _material realm_. The gods of Theralis do not rule everywhere, and thus one might find other gods ruling the _elemental planes_ elsewhere. This is one small reason why the gods war.

And, as it is said, the wars of the gods are the wars of mortals.

*Origins*

Once, long ago, the first lick of _divine fire_ sparked into existence in an icy world of blackness. Within moments of its birth, it raged throughout the universe and created everything. However, it was completely chaotic, creating and destroying in an orgiastic frenzy, but without conscious design or intent.

Sixteen major behavioral patterns emerged from its random actions, each representing varying degrees of chaos or order, creation or destruction. And eventually, these took on some degree of self-awareness and drive. When that happened, they ceased to be aspects of one entity and became their own beings, forever dividing the universe from an organic morass into distinct elements.

They developed alliances and enmities, short-term and long-term goals, and succeeded to varying degrees. But they were not a stable structure.

At some point, exactly when is unknown, one of their first servants, now ancient and cunning, led their other servants into betraying and destroying them. The various servants took into themselves what they could of the _divine fire_, and hid the remainder away until they could handle its burning glory.

These, then, were the first gods as we know them. The current gods are the third generation of such, having overthrown the children of the first gods, and taken the _divine fire_ into themselves.

The current gods were spirits made strong with faith and belief, and are the closest to humanity that have ever been. Their _divine fire_ is also weaker than any before them.


----------



## seasong

*Monsters*

The wilderness is a dangerous place. The following text contains a few of the reasons why.

Note that this is not an exhaustive list by any means - it is just a sampling of the "wilderness flavor" I am trying for.

*Dragons*

No discussion of the dangers of the wilderness is complete without mentioning dragons. Dragons are believed to be manifest forces of nature, neither good nor evil, but instead possessed of a strong sense of duty to the natural world. They are noble creatures, but do not think twice about destroying anyone or anything that is needlessly damaging the wilderness. At the same time, they recognize the need for a certain amount of civilization, and sometimes grant land to this or that group to foster such.

Dragons are said to live for one thousand years, at which point they meld into the earth, becoming an unusually shaped formation of stone or mountain ridge. Upon hatching, a dragon is said to be the size of a person, and they nearly double in mass every three years for the next decade. Thereafter, they grow far more slowly (doubling in mass for each age category). The oldest dragons are gargantuan beasts, weighing between 100-200 tons before turning to stone.

They never sleep, but may become lost in their meditations or communing with nature, making them less alert than normal.

Dragons tend to be druid-like, and normally advance in level as follows:
	
	




		Code:
	

[color=cyan]Wyrmling    0
Very young  1
Young       2-5
Juvenile    5-8
Young adult 8-10
Adult       10-13
Mature      13-16
Old         16-17
Very old    17-18
Ancient     18-19[/color]

*Amalan*

Six hundred years ago, there was a group of slaves to the orc tribes, who were led to freedom by the hero Thera. The grand-daughter of Dianas (goddess of the grape), Thera's wisdom led her to the valleys that would become Theralis, but discovered that they were guarded by an eight ton dragon of fierce temper. The dragon was Amalan, and he had only just recently been given these lands to protect in honor of his centennial birthday.

When Thera spoke with him, he was at first reluctant to grant humankind any space in the valleys, so pristine at the time, but at the behest of his peers, he grudgingly sent her on a quest - should she succeed, he would grant the valleys, should she fail, she must move on to other lands. Thera's Quest was the destruction of a mighty necromancer who sought the secrets of eternal life, and who was too well entrenched in his fortress for even the mightiest dragon to assault. Thera prayed to Dianas, and developed a plan. She asked Amalan for a few of the grapes of his valleys, and promised that the grapes would lead to the necromancer's downfall. These he gave, and with them, she made a powerful wine, blessed with Dianas' potency. She then entered the necromancer's fortress posing as a merchant of wines. When he sampled her wares, he found them good, and let her in. That night, he drank deeply of the special wine, and fell into a deep slumber from which nothing would wake him. Thera cut off his head, and brought it back to Amalan. To Amalan's surprise, the head awoke at that point, having been so deeply drunk it failed to noticed its severance, and died in Amalan's hands.

The lands were granted, and Thera founded the city.

Today, Amalan has little to do with the region, other than to occasionally check to make certain that the people have not overextended his grant. He is very old now, nearly 60 tons, and powerful beyond measure. He is rarely seen silhouetted against the sky, perhaps once every several years, and is taken as an omen of a bad seasons to come ("When dragons fly, people die").

*Large Predators*

In general, the larger predators are few in number, and overlap very little in a given region. One does not usually find a mountain lion in the company of wolves, for example. The big carnivores also tend to cover a fairly large area, individually, and the likelihood of randomly encountering one in any given stretch of wilderness is somewhat low, unless you are doing some activity that attracts them.

With that said, the predators of this world are hideously dangerous to the unprepared, and the typical person is unlikely to survive a direct confrontation.

The best known predators are the trapping mantis (common to the wild valleys to the east), mountain spiders (common everywhere), black hounds (rare near civilization, reasonably common near ancient ruins), reasonably normal bears, and and armorcats (occasionally found dominating a wild valley or mountain ridge). A less common, but extremely dangerous creature of the rockier mountains, is the bazilisk.

*Trapping Mantis (ankheg)*: A stocky, human-sized mantis that burrows, feet first, a few feet beneath the surface of the earth and then lies in wait there for large prey, typically a small to medium sized mammal. The trapping mantis is reasonably rare near Theralis, but are common enough in the barbarian valleys to the east that an orc tribe is said to use their serrated forelegs as spear heads. According to forester tales, the trapping mantis attacks by impaling with its forelegs to hold the prey, and then vomiting its stomach acids and enzymes onto the victim. The trapping mantis hunts alone, and is fairly nomadic, adjusting its favored haunts as its prey learns to avoid it.

*Bazilisk:* A fat, snub-nosed serpent of grey tones and brilliant yellow eyes, typically weighing 50-100 pounds and between six and eight feet in length. According to legend, those who meet its gaze turn to stone, but most scholars agree that this is more likely a hypnotic effect. All agree that its toxin is as deadly as they come, calcifying tissue with staggering alacrity. Bazilisks are only found in rocky areas where its skin colors blend well.

*Black hounds:* These phantom-like beasts resemble black-furred hounds or wolves of human size or larger. They are possessed of almost malevolent, primal cunning, and sometimes behave in disturbingly intelligent manner. Some hunt in packs, while others live alone (and unfortunately, the loners are the _really_ dangerous ones). Black hounds can slip between the _material_ and _spiritual realms_, although they never remain in the _spiritual realm_ for long. Legends give them various other powers, ranging from running on water to "smelling souls". A small pack or loner can usually be found along mountains far from civilization - near civilization, they tend to be hunted until dead.

*Mountain spiders:* These are essentially Large spiders that build massive web labrynths through an area of forest, cave system, or narrow crevice. The spiders themselves usually clump into communities, but they hunt individually and do not organize or work together in any way. Their poison is paralytic rather than deadly. Mountain spiders do not use their webs to trap prey, but to store them - the spiders themselves stalk and attack prey far from the webs, then drag them back to the webs to bind and later consume.

*Armorcats:* Possibly not an actual feline, the armorcat looks and moves like one, but has a rhino-like hide and a thick, spike-tipped tail. Armorcats are amazingly efficient predators, and generally work alone. They are said to be able to blend into surroundings so well as to become almost invisible until the moment of attack, although this could well be exaggeration of their natural stealthiness.

*Dangerous Flora*

In a magical wilderness, one can not depend upon the local flora to remain passive. Although for the most part the trees, bushes, vines, flowers, grasses, ferns, mosses and so on remain reasonably quiescent, there are numerous species of each which do not.

Near the Theralis valleys, the most common threats (known to almost everyone) are damp moss, assassin vines, ropers, spitseeds, and rivercutters.

*Damp moss:* Found in cool, quiet places with plenty of water nearby, damp moss feeds on decomposition. To that end, it has evolved an area _sleep_ effect which affects anyone who touches on the moss, however briefly. Once asleep, they will continue to sleep until they die of starvation. Damp moss has varying appearance by regional sub-species, usually resembling the most common moss of the area. It can be spotted by the remains of past victims, usually small animals. An odd species of squirrel is immune to its effects, and sometimes burrows a small shelter in the safety of the moss; this, in turn, sometimes attracts larger predators onto the moss.

*Spitseeds:* This is a species of bush which reproduces by firing its sharp, flechette-like seeds at passing animals during the winter. The seed's cover is lethal poison, and when the animal dies, it hosts the seed's growth into a new bush. The corpse is protected by the vigorous poison in its meat - most predators avoid the corpse based on smell alone.

*Rivercutters:* A type of river weed that only grows in swift-moving currents. It typically feeds on fish that pass through it. Rivercutters are made up of near invisible, razor sharp strands  that knot and tangle in the currents. Fish pass into it and are entangled and sliced into by the strands, which then extract nutrients from the body. Rivercutters tear away and regrow when the corpse weight gets too high. In general, it is not deadly to humans, but can cut a person up pretty fiercely. The people of the Theralis valleys generally rip it up unmercifully when they find it.


----------



## incognito

*Yo Earl!*

Where's the adventuring at?!  If one of these PCs doesn't stick a sword in something soon, I'm gonna explode!

Are armor cats Bulette's?


----------



## seasong

Armorcats are big tigers with a bit better AC, slight stat modifications, and possibly some extra abilities. System-wise, they're pretty decently scary, probably about CR 5. A sizable hunting party of experienced (lvl 2-3) soldiers could probably take one armorcat down, with losses.

The armorcat is a "normal" animal, and understanding animal behavior may allow one to avoid a direct combat confrontation with it. Black hounds, on the other hand, are malevolent .

As for sticking swords into things... we'll see.


----------



## seasong

*Experience Levels*

Theralis uses harsh aging rules, and some pretty decent advancement rules. The combination, plus the local culture, results in the following rules of thumb.

Level 0: All children .

Level 1: 15 years old, this is the default starting point. Characters spend their first year in the Theralis military, as part of becoming an adult. A _typical_ year in the Theralis military is worth 1,000 XP, giving the character a level with combat training, a bit of toughening up, and some free time to pursue their own interests.

Level 2: A young adult, typically 16-17. Typical years are worth about 800-1200 XP due to the challenges of getting started in life. By age 18, most people are reaching 3rd level.

Level 3: A mature person, typically 18-22. Typical years are worth about 500-700 XP (CR 2). A large fraction of the population is 3rd level.

Level 4: Middle age, typically 23-29. Typical years are worth 500-700 XP. The largest minority of the population. Level 4 is the typical "full professional".

Level 5: Slightly older, typically 30-39. Some people die of _natural_ causes at this point. A reasonable fraction of the population is 5th level; this is the "master of the trade" level.

Level 6: The elderly, typically 40-52. Few live past this point. A small portion of the population is 6th level. Generally, 6th level is sufficient for local reknown (throughout all of the divisions of a particular valley, for example).

Level 7: The very elderly, 53+. Generally, 7th level is the point where an individual can be known throughout the Theralis valleys on the basis of ability.

These rules of thumb apply to those who live _ordinary_ lives. A decent percentage of the population live extraordinary lives, and a small percentage of those survive. Adventurers typically advance about one level per year or two, and you can often find "ordinary" adults who adventured for a year or two and are thus a level or more higher than the rules of thumb indicate.

Levels 8-9 are sufficient to be very well known throughout the valleys, with some spillover into other nearby nations. At level 9, you can claim to be a "name" in Theralis.

By 10th level, an individual is near legendary. Above 10th level is the stuff of legends - fighters that can wade through a company of lesser soldiers, spell casters who can level armies, etc.


----------



## seasong

Yeah, yeah, stop boring you with this dull stuff and start posting the durned story!

Commit: Greppa's Ambition will be posted tomorrow morning.


----------



## Greybar

Guess I'm a GM at heart.  I'm lovin the background stuff.
Cheers, seasong!

John


----------



## seasong

Glad you're enjoying it . I'm kind of using the Story Hour as a scratchboard for the players, as well - I can never get my players to read my website, but they'll read this for some reason.

I guess they're NOT illiterate gits.


----------



## seasong

*PROLOGUE*
*Greppa's Ambition*

Hurath of Theralis Down was a subtle somatist. His fingers barely seemed to twitch before the _shadow servant_ pushed its way through the envelope between realms. It bobbed once, then swept through the narrow marble tower, lighting candles and adjusting each item it found to align with table edges.

It was an old servant for an old arcanist, and was well familiar with his home and what was needed.

Greppa watched carefully, as always. It was a spell he knew, but not nearly to the masterful extent of his teacher. He watched everything Hurath did carefully, more or less. The old man was an excellent teacher of the basics, but that was all he would teach Greppa. The subtle aspects of somatics and kinesics, the methods to weave spells with only the most essential words (by hinting at the lesser words with faint intonations)... these were things Hurath felt were lessons best learned later. Greppa politely disagreed, and became watchful.

And each night, Greppa would attempt a few spells with minimalist elements. He had not yet succeeded, but it was just a matter of careful elimination until he found the ones that worked by themselves.

Hurath, meanwhile, indicated that it was Greppa's turn. Half of the candles were lit, representing Hurath's passing on of knowledge to the young apprentice.

Greppa traced a large circle in the air with one hand, while the second traced a lesser sigil of shadow within its boundaries. He spoke quietly, but firmly, "_el ath direthos_", and maintained his concentration on the details of the spell.

It worked, and the sigil circle pulled energy from Greppa to form a passage to the dark places of the _spiritual realms_. A _shadow servant_ pushed through the middle of the circle, then paused, awaiting instruction.

Winded by the spell, Greppa half-whispered, "Light all candles within these walls that are not lit."

The second half of the candles represented Greppa's growing inner spark of magic, and his emerging from apprenticeship. Although he had largely suppressed it, a bubble of laughter threatened to crawl up his throat and consume him.

A journeyman! He, Greppa of Tartwater, was finally to be free to pursue his studies his way!

To be honest, Greppa loved the old man who taught him, but suspected that his doddering, patient ways were holding Greppa back.

The actual ceremony was short and almost informal. The candles were lit, Hurath said a few words about their meaning, and what it meant to be an arcanist, then congratulated Greppa, and presented the young _ellini_ with a heavy medallion that almost looked like an anchor around his dark, scrawny neck.

"Heh. We make them that way to keep you from running around too much." Both laughed. The ceremony was over, and, strictly speaking, Hurath was no longer Greppa's teacher - they were not quite peers now, but Greppa was his own person now.

Hurath stepped in and hugged Greppa tightly, "Young man, you have been as patient and thoughtful a son as I could have wanted. You be careful during your year of Service - I want to see you surpass me in the years down the line, and you can't do that if you're ni the grave."

Greppa just smiled and squirmed out of the hug, "I shall be careful. I always am."

They stood for a moment, a tableau of momentary understanding between them, before Greppa breathed deeply, "I'd best be off, then. It's late, and I want to get there before the soldiers are too drunk to register me."

A few goodbyes later, and a bit more akwardness between the two men, and Greppa was on his way.

Hurath watched him go, knowing the young _ellini_ would do more than surpass him. The child's talent was almost obscene. But he worried, still - Greppa had shown patience while in Hurath's tower, certainly, but there had always been an edge of rush, and an edge of temper. The old man sighed, praying to Athos to help the young man reach mastery of the craft without getting himself killed.

Greppa, heedless of the prayer, swung his feet freely and grinned as he fantasized being the most powerful arcanist in the world.


----------



## seasong

*Population Statistics*

Theralis has slightly over 50 thousand people, and there are ten times that number in the Theralis valleys. Some random statistics:

The Theralis military force varies, but usually hovers around 11-12 thousand. The force is composed mostly of youths around age 15 to 16 - a year of active military service is part of becoming an adult. In event of a real war, virtually every able-bodied adult in the Theralis valleys has at least some competency. The military also has an additional 1-2 thousand career soldiers who actually run things.

*Magic*

There are approximately 2 thousand spell casters in the Theralis region. Of these, about half are healers. Of these, about 500 are 5th level or higher (this translates into about 250 healers who can cure all manner of injuries, poisons, diseases and ailments). And of those, there are perhaps a double handful of spell casters who are 7th, 8th or 9th level, mostly in career military.


----------



## seasong

Okay, so this is the scary part for me . Here's the Theralis web page. Still _very_ much a work-in-progress - I haven't even uploaded a map!

It's scary, because I'm not running pure D&D - I'm using alternate hit points, classes, and weapon proficiencies, to name the big changes. And the spell casting is different, although the _spells_ are basically the same.

I know there are purists out there who won't enjoy the story knowing that we're not playing the same way you are, but I can't really help that.

Anyway, commentary welcome.

Character sheets will be put up a little ways into Chapter One, so you can see what hellions the players gave me.


----------



## seasong

_For some reason, this one was a lot harder for me to write. I've gone ahead and written it "sucky", so we can get past it and on to the good stuff._

_You'll also note that I put it all in one big post, instead of two. My next story update shall be the beginnings of Chapter One._

*PROLOGUE*
*Tangled Threads*

*Merideth*
A month in, and she was already in trouble. If she'd known how registration worked, she'd maybe have done things differently, but now...

When a person is born, their full name (such as Merideth of Southbottom) is written on a page. All of the pages for a particular year are gathered up and kept. Fifteen years later, they are used for the roll call to Service.

There was no Merideth of Northwood.

Now she sat in a small, locked room along with a handful of others who had tried to represent themselves fraudulently. No one spoke - they were all to busy trying to be invisible. She wondered, briefly, if the others felt the same deep shame she felt. Probably not... they looked like they came from better families than she did.

Finally, the captain, a tall woman with silvering black hair, stepped into the room and called her "name". They walked in silence to a small office. The desk was sharply scented pine, hand-polished and well constructed. The rest of the room wasa  violent clutter, filled with naming lists, maps, and other records of a city gone soft.

There was no other chair than the one the captain sat in behind the desk, so Merideth stood.

The captain sighed, "Is Merideth your real name, or also a lie?"

The words, though soft, stung. Merideth bit back hot tears and anger, "It's real. My name... it's Merideth of Soutbottom."

There, it was out. She was a backwood servant, the only child of clothes washers to the second class rich.

The captain looked at her, no pity evident, "I suspected. Your former master is a fairly well-known healer, and I was, quite by coincidence, keeping an eye out in the rolls for his apprentice when she came through. Imagine my surprise when, after your mentor's glowing praise of her, she completely failed to register for Service. And then, topping it off, there is the matter of this _fraudulent_ Merideth of Northwood, who does not seem to exist anywhere in the rolls."

A hefty sigh from the captain, "You have wasted a lot of my hours for the sake of your pride. If we did not need a healer at the northeast pass, I would put you in the most god-forsaken duty I could find!"

Merideth shrank, but the captain seemed done yelling. She continued, "As it is, we do need you in the northeast pass. But I will be keeping an eye on you. I don't care what kind of a healer you are, we don't need liars for soldiers. I've assigned a shieldman to escort you up there, so you can waste some of his hours. I don't want the Southbottom girl disappearing on me again."

And that was that. No punishment, but Merideth didn't feel like she'd escaped anything.

The northeast pass beckoned, and she went.

*Athan*
A month into training, and Athan was the hero of his group of trainees. Like some young hero, stepped out of myth, he consistently excelled in athletics, and rapidly became well feared for his accuracy and unsettling _distance_ with the spear.

At the two month mark, his training ended, and he went to be assigned. There was never any real question - he was assigned to the rich northern valleys because they liked him, and he was assigned to a pass because he was heroic.

The northeast pass beckoned, and he went.

*Greppa*
Greppa's training near Tartwater was harsh and gruelling for the slender _ellini_. Still, he did well enough at it, and quickly got assigned as a scout - an odd choice for a spell caster, perhaps, but Greppa was naturally stealthy from years of sneaking peeks in Hurath's library, or just sneaking out.

He was not needed anywhere in particularly, but he wanted to see the north a bit, and so his captain pulled a few strings and got Greppa sent to a pass north of Theralis.

The northeast pass beckoned, and he went.

*Eastpass*

Merideth hauled the pair of buckets out of the well, cursing her luck with each grunting pull. The captain of Eastpass, a shrewish woman named Agina, had apparently been told all about Merideth, and had found a lot of very creative uses for a spell caster, like this one. As an esper, Merideth could intuit the lay of the well bottom, and get the buckets to hit water instead of ice... so she got well duty. Every day.

She'd been doing this instead of weapons drills with the others for a month, when she first saw him. Built like a young god, and stepping lightly across the snow-covered ground, was a heart-gripping young soldier. Captain Agina greeted him when he arrived, and Merideth's heart lurched.

He was so _beautiful_, it _hurt_.

Although no one noticed, Athan was accompanied by a slender, dark-skinned _ellini_ who had joined him on the road. Greppa stuck close to Athan, mouth shut and eyes aimed downward.

Greppa was fascinated by the graceful Athan as well, but even less inclined to admit it than Merideth.

Over the next few months, the three became swift friends. Athan genuinely liked people, and Greppa and Merideth were very interesting people to him. Athan's association with Merideth also had an unexpected benefit - it considerably softened Captain Agina's opinion of the girl, and gave her a more normal soldier's lot.

*Marked by Allas*

Merideth and Greppa were sitting at the sidelines of an up-mountain sprint that Athan was winning, when Agina unexpectedly walked by. They startde to scramble to a stand, but she waved them down, "Relax. I was just curious - the three of you spend a lot of time together. Is it because of the birthmarks?"

After that point, yes.

Merideth, in particular, became obsessed with the mark, spending extra time each day praying to Allas for guidance. She became convinced that she (and the others) were meant to be great heroes. She cast herself in the role of a legendary warrior-healer who wandered the land curing terrible plagues and defeating monsters of all ilk.

For the most part, Athan just ignored the mark and Merideth's fancies about it. He still planned to be a career soldier, and didn't put much stock in heroes.

Greppa, while not as fanciful as Merideth, was also not as duty-driven as Athan. He saw adventuring from a different light... as the opportunity to discover ancient secrets of magic.

Over much of the rest of the year, Merideth and Greppa (but particularly Merideth) continued to wear on Athan, trying to persuade him that the road to glory was the best road to take. He remained unconvinced.

And then, as summer first reached the peaks of Eastpass, the first rumblings of a war to come came rolling down the mountains.

*END PROLOGUE*


----------



## seasong

*Soldiering*

*Training*

Training in Theralis takes four forms: athletics, shield work, spear work, and sparring.

Athletics is fairly informal, with the occasional more formal contest. In many ways, this is just an extension of the natural competitive spirit of the Theralese people, and is not strange to anyone. The usual events are up-mountain sprints, long-distance runs (usually circling a single valley), rock climbing, spear throwing for distance and accuracy, stone carrying events, wrestling and swimming.

Athletics competitions are done in the nude - Theralis is body conscious, but in a very egoistic sort of way, and most young Theralese are justifiably proud of their bodies.

_This at least partly explains why Captain Agina noticed the birthmarks - the fact that the youths in question stuck together like ponies in a glue factory explains the rest._

Shield work is something not everyone expects to do in the normal course of events. Theralis soldiers fight in four lines: the first line is the shield bearers, who carry heavy tower shields in parallel, and use those shields to keep as much of an enemy attack out of the line as possible. The second and third lines carry short and long spears, respectively, and stab through brief gaps as often as possible. The fourth line consists of everyone behind the first three, and has the duty of supporting the front lines, whether by healing, throwing javelins or spells at the foe, and so on. When there are sufficient numbers, everyone works in shifts, switching out positions when a front liner gets tired.

Shield work requires a short person with a lot of endurance. The shields are held high, and carried forward or backward as needed. Athan would be a perfect shield guard, except that he is too tall - his feet or head would always be an easy target, and a shield sized for him would not fit the formation.

Training for shield work consists of a lot of formation marching, with a near-50 pound shield held up in front of you. Everyone does it, in case they have to, but no one likes it.

_Athan, Greppa and Merideth did not train in this._

Spear work is the basic training in the spear. The quarterstaff fighting methods that practically everyone practices in Theralis is the simplified form of spear work - or, to put that another way, spear work is quarterstaff fighting with a point.

Every soldier learns this, both in forms intended for formation fighting, and in forms intended for solo fighting.

_Merideth had never done quarterstaffing prior to the military, and didn't spend much time on it in training, either, so she's pretty poor with a spear. Greppa and Athan were both avid quarterstaff competitors, and expended similar effort in the spear._

Sparring is exactly what it sounds like: ranging from organized "army-on-army" clashes to solo competitions, the sparring in the Theralese military is both intense and constant. Athan shone here, and part of most people's admiration of him currently stems from this.

*Arms & Equipment*

A Theralese soldier wears a knee-length tunic and sandals, but is otherwise naked. One in two shield guards carry a shield on their back, which they hand off to a fresh shield guard when hostilities start. A few of the stronger soldiers carry several wrapped long spears, which are handed out to third-line soldiers at battle. Each company has a captain who wears a sword, and carries the battle banner for the company - when the banner falls, that means the captain has had to join the fight.

_Everyone_ carries a short spear, bread pouch and water flask.


----------



## seasong

Just a quick note to say that we've gotten started on Chapter One: Mountain Thunder.

And _incognito_, if you're still reading, "Yea, I say unto thee, that there was the sticking of pointy things into soft fleshy things, and it was good."

I'll update when I finish writing it all up.


----------



## seasong

*CHAPTER ONE
Mountain Thunder*

*The First Battle of Eastpass, pt I*

Merideth woke in a panic, to night's darkness. A dream of terrible carnage, of orcs flowing into the valley like water into a crevice, and a lingering image of the sun watching over it all. She waited for her heart to calm, then listened carefully to the sleepers around her. No one awoke. She'd kept silent in waking.

She resolved to mention her dream to Captain Agina in the morning. It might be for real. The captain should listen to her - she was an esper, after all.


----------



## seasong

_Edit: fixed a typo, and inserted the *shadow servant* + spear trick Greppa popped up with._

*The First Battle of Eastpass, pt II*

Greppa woke first, to what sounded like a distant heartbeat. As he came to alertness, his mind classed the sound as deep, bass drums.

bom bom babom
bom bom babom
bom bom babom

Faint memories of something about orcs drumming their way to war penetrated, and Greppa began yelling for the others to wake up. It was a few moments before anyone else could match the _ellini_'s sharp hearing, and even then, it was too faint to be certain. Captain Agina assigned Greppa and another soldier to run up to the pass and check with the watch, and in the meantime treated it as a convenient drill for everyone else, grabbing shield & spear and preparing to march.

Eastpass was narrow - perhaps twelve soldiers wide, shoulder to shoulder - but there were currently only a pair of watchmen there, and once an enemy was through the pass, fighting would be brutal indeed. And with less than a hundred soldiers in the barracks, fighting might be deadly. Greppa gripped his short spear tightly, and jogged as quickly as he dared up the starlit slope.

As he got closer, his ears clearly identified the sound. They were definitely drums, thick-skinned and heavy. Greppa slowed his pace, and moved as quietly as he could. It was a few long moments before he spotted the orc. It was huge, looking eight feet tall or more silhouetted against the predawn sky, and it was standing on the watchers' rock where the watch should have been.

Fortunately for Greppa, at that moment it was looking down the other side of the mountain, towards the drums. Unfortunately, Greppa decided on the riskiest course of action - he screamed *"ORCS"* at the top of his lungs, then turned and began running back to safety. The orc scout whipped around, yelled something in his own dark tongue, and dropped, cat-like and ferocious, from the boulder to the ground, and hit running.

Very quickly, the distance between Greppa and the orc seemed too small. The orc was far swifter than the tiny _ellini_, and Greppa had a brief nightmare flashback to his harsh-tongued sisters.

"With legs like that, I'm surprised he can get down the stairs!"
"You're so slow, turtles use you for a rest stop!"
"Uh oh, he's mad! Better watch out or he might walk after us!"

Gritting his teeth, he drew a spell circle in the air, traced the sigils for _lesser shadow killer_ and spoke: "_mal ath abthyr manaros_".

Then he turned, released the spell... and tripped, sprawling across the trail and rolling several dozen feet downhill.

The spell worked, however. The air-traced circle darkened for a moment, and a faint shadow creature pushed its way through and sped at the orc. It was Greppa's best spell, and one he'd never been desparate enough to use... especially considering that he'd studied it in secret, after sneaking into Hurath's library late at night.

It failed to impress the orc much - it grunted, and got angry enough to pause and throw its spear, but that was it. Fortunately, it threw wide.

Greppa stopped breathing. Scrambled to his feet. Ran. Stumbled. Grunted. Ran.

Somewhere behind him, the orc grabbed its spear on the run, and yelled something that sounded vaguely insulting.

Then, like some heavenly cohort, Greppa saw the jogging wall of shields that meant they'd heard his scream. Unfortunately, the orc was practically on top of him. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He cast _shadow servant_ as fast as he could, dropped his spear, and told the servant to lift the spear between the orc's legs. He heard the spear break behind him, and the orc tumbling, and pushed as hard as he could for the line of safety. He was almost there when the orc's spear punched through his floating ribs. Serrated chitin poked out through the front of his tunic, and he fell again, as the shields swarmed past him towards the kneeling orc.

Merideth, her face oddly pensive in the slowly brightening dawn, slipped close to him. Touching his chest with one hand, she cleanly pulled the spear through with the other. Another moment, and heat raged through the wound, closing and sealing it.

Greppa was still in pain, but well enough to move.

The orc that had chased Greppa was quickly cut down by the line of soldiers, and then it was a race up the remainder of the mountain. They'd done uphill runs before, even with shields, but it felt almost easy with the blood pumping and the excitement of warfare boiling in the blood.

They just reached Eastpass as a warband of some thirty orcs began spilling through. The first clash was horrendous - the orcs, a bit uphill of the defenders, raised spears up and began stabbing down, over the shields. Many youths forgot to raise their shields high enough, and were stabbed in the shoulders, chest or head. The line quickly dissolved into near chaos, and the long spears were the only thing that saved the Theralese soldiers, piercing several invaders and forcing them back while the shield line repaired itself.

Merideth immediately rushed in, head low, looking for the worst injured.

Athan, meanwhile, was standing behind one of the head-stabbed soldiers, with naught but a short spear. The shield fell and the orc stepped into the breach.

Athan had always been the biggest, strongest person he knew. This orc was fully a head taller than him, and heavily built. A brief thrill of fear, and Athan grinned, baring his teeth to the orc's matching grimace. Athan sidestepped the orc's first attack, and thrust his short spear into the orc's neck, nearly severing it.

He continued to grin as a shield guard replaced the fallen on, and Merideth slipped in to try to heal.

Greppa, meanwhile, was continuing to panic. He began casting _lesser shadow killer_ repeatedly, hitting the orc that looked most like the leader.

Slowly but surely, the line shoved the orcs back. The youths kept their shields high, and short and long spears thrust between the shields like a vicious thicket.

Between losing a few orcs and being continuously hit by Greppa's shadowy phantom, the orc captain finally called the retreat, "BUNAHKEN, ETHRAT! ETHRAT!"

The attacking orcs made a concerted shove on the shield line, shoving it back a few feet, then turned and began to run up-mountain. The leader paused a moment, then spitefully hurled his spear at Greppa, before turning and leading his warriors in the retreat.

The throw was accurate and clean, and sunk into Greppa's chest, just below the collarbone and just inside the shoulder. His retreat, however, was less successful. Athan hefted his short spear and threw it, matching the huge orc's own arc and punching the Theralese spear into the orc's back and cleaving its spine.

Merideth healed Greppa a bit more, and Captain Agina told him to go rest.

-----

Everyone was prepared to spend the rapidly brightening day at the pass - reinforcements had been sent for, and were expected by nightfall. But the first person to look at the valley on the other side of the pass nearly deserted on the spot.

Filling the other side of the mountain were what looked like two dozen warbands of similar size to the first, carefully watching the pass.

The drums continued to beat.

bom bom babom
bom bom babom
bom bom babom


----------



## seasong

*Orcs and Things*

Those of you who watched the the recent Iron DM may recognize the look of the orcish language. This is a different tribe, but yes, I've adapted that kind of orc to this campaign setting. Barbaric, often cruel, but with a solid ethos and society, these orcs can be reprehensible and admirable.

This particular tribe is the Bunahken (Bone-Ache) tribe, as opposed to the Bohkenahk (Broken Knuckle) tribe of the Iron DM scenario. They are more nomadic than their Broken Knuckle cousins, and more prone to conflict with the civilized lands due to their homeland proximity.

Why they are _here_, instead of there, will be interesting to discover.

"Ethrat" translates to "retreat", but can be more accurately described as "fight later".

*War Drums*

My players were fascinated with these last time around, so I might as well describe them here. The orcish war drum is made of tanned and water-soaked leather stretched taut and then dried over a three foot wide, six inch deep wooden bowl. Orcish scouts carry one on their back, or hold it between raised arm and ribs when beating on it. To beat on it, they use a thigh bone - usually taken from a dead enemy, but sometimes from a favored ancestor or great warrior who died in glorious battle.

When beaten with proper strength, their deep bass can be heard for miles over flatland. Mountains tend to baffle the sound somewhat, of course.

Orcs use them for very simple communication, and also for striking fear into their enemies. They are pretty effective at both.


----------



## seasong

A few side notes.

*Characters*

It's not apparent in the above, but Athan really rocked in this fight. I don't think he missed an attack roll once (total attack +5, orc AC around 11), and he was doing heinous amounts of damage: the average orc HP was about 30 (CON 13), and he was typically dishing about 8-10 damage per hit, with two crits, one at 27 damage and one at 33 damage.

Greppa really roleplayed his panic-stricken fleeing well. He's the one that mentioned his older sisters making fun of his short legs, and he really freaked out when he failed his Reflex save and fell down.

Also, I don't think it really showed very well, but Greppa very nearly died twice. Both spears that hit him were crits, and brought him close to 0. I hated to pick on him like that, but he was _really_ making himself an attractive target.

Merideth had a bad day on this one. First, I saddled her with a prophecy that was only useful if she followed it up _right then_, then she came face to face with how hard it is for a low-level healer to really help in a fight.

*Levels*

The near-year of soldiering provided the PCs with their 2nd level. When I eventually post their character sheets, I'll show their 1st level version (what they were like going into the military) as well as what they were like when they went into this fight.

In short, however, Greppa and Athan both went heavy on the soldiering stuff (BAB, spear proficiency & focus, etc.), while Merideth continued to work on her magic. After this scenario, she has assured me that she will be focusing on her fighting abilities next level.


----------



## incognito

> He was almost there when the orc's spear punched through his floating ribs.




mmm...that's the stuff!



> "Ethrat" translates to "retreat", but can be more accurately described as "fight later".




Seasong: you've got to admire a DM who makes up his won Orc Language!



> Filling the other side of the mountain were what looked like two dozen warbands of similar size to the first




How do you say "My moneys on the Orcs right now..." in thier language? 

love.this.story hour.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> mmm...that's the stuff!



I'm glad you like . There's going to be a whole lot of orc, seasong style, throughout the Mountain Thunder chapter...







> Seasong: you've got to admire a DM who makes up his won Orc Language!
> 
> How do you say "My moneys on the Orcs right now..." in thier language?



Heh. I am _such_ a geek.

I usually do some basic word construction rules (like, what sounds are used, how they flow, etc.), and a double fistful of words to use as a reference, for any setting I run. It really helps with place names, local color, history notes, etc. And some of my made-up words (with the attached cultural meanings) have made their way into my players' general vocabulary, which is about as good a compliment as you get. And careful what you ask for. My best guess for your phrase would be:

_Offinom, ulg ffut oggmah teh Bunahken. Offinom, Bunahken slahg teh pashin Grugahk._

_Offinom_, roughly, means "IMHO, for the moment"
_Ulg_ means "me", but stems from unworthy; that's why _offinom_ in this case is IMHO instead of IMO.

You might replace it with _tegahk nom_, which means, roughly, "strong start, weak finish" if you were trying to say that you thought they would win for now (as opposed to "for now, I think they will win"). You could also replace _ulg_ with _meh_ and drop _offinom_ entirely, to come off a bit more arrogant.

_Ffut_ means "put", "place" or "ante up". If you put your arm in front of an attack, that's _ffut_. If you put a flower on table for decorative purposes, that's not _ffut_.

_Oggmah_ means "odds" with the suffix -_mah_ meaning "mine". Odds are the bread and butter of orc gambling - they discuss odds first, then how to valuate it.

You might replace this with a specific item of trade, such as _oslaffmah_, meaning "my slave".

_Teh_ is a generic linker. In this context, it means "on" or "on the".

_Bunahken_ is the tribe of orc (bone-ache). Orcs don't have a word for orc, they refer to all peoples by their tribe.

_Slahg_ means what it sounds like in English - to totally wreck something or someone.

_Pashin_ meant "clean ear" in old orc. These days it means wuss, wimp, pansy, and similar such. It is almost as insulting as _leffshahk_, which translates as "leaf sucker", referring to a particularly toxic, but otherwise defenseless, caterpillar.

_Grugahk_ means "good wine", and is the "tribe" of the Theralis valleys. Those orcs who trade with Theralis call the Theralese this. It's actually fairly complimentary, when it's not paired with something like _pashin_ or _leffshahk_.


----------



## seasong

*Random Notes on Arms & Armor*

Steel is a secret art, known to a few rare cultural groups who sell their elite equipment for a high price. These groups are mostly allied with each other, and treat the potential discovery of the method by another group much like the USA treats the development of nuclear arms.

Theralis is firmly in the late iron age. Armor is too heavy for moving quickly through mountainous terrain (if you expect to be fresh when you reach the battle), and iron swords are far more expensive than iron-tipped spears.

Theralese spears are designed for quick, easy production: the typical spear head is a wedge-cut chunk of iron bound to the head of the shaft. The shields are more sturdily built - they are a thin plate of flattened iron bolted into a hardwood frame, and usually take a bit longer to make than the spears.

Archery is known, but an accurate arrow takes more effort to make than an entire spear... and the mountains sharply reduce the range advantages of the bow. Add to that the years of extra practice required to make a good archer, and the spear wins out yet again.

Theralese captains also have a sword, a single-edged wedge-shaped bar of iron about two feet long. It is a weapon of last resort (just as the captain is the fighter of last resort).


----------



## seasong

More language notes...

Arcanist magic centers around the use of words of power. At low levels, these are more like powerful phrases, but as the mage gets better at channeling, slowly switch over to syllabic runes.

All spells involve a spell circle (traced in the air, drawn in the dirt, a placement of stones for a ceremony), and one or more sigils contained within. This is the source of the spell's raw power - the portal through which extradimensional energies are tapped. The words of power merely shape its exit.

The language used for the words of power is a nonsense tongue, in that there is no actual translation for the majority of the words. To the arcanist, each word is simply a verbal sound that does a particular thing, not a method of communication. With that said, however, there is a certain logic to the syllables, and skilled arcanists can sometimes infer what kind of effect to expect from an enemy caster, even if the arcanist is not familiar with the specific spell.

For readership convenience , I will continue to refer to spells by their 'common names' rather than the sigil + syllable combination that an arcanist would use to accurately state what he was doing.


----------



## incognito

He-LLO! I _know_ I'm not the only one reading this bad boy - any commentary?


----------



## seasong

The usual Tuesday night GM cancelled, so we ran another session of Mountain Thunder tonight. I'm now 2 sessions and a game year behind.

Oh, and in case the number above shocked anyone... yeah, time sprints sometimes in my campaigns. In this case, however, that's partly the fault of what happened in the aforementioned 2 sessions. Heh.

Ingredients to come...

Fireball
Darkvision
Reinforcements
Clever use of a cantrip
Orcs
More orcs


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> He-LLO! I _know_ I'm not the only one reading this bad boy - any commentary?



We're really only just getting rolling with the actual story - not nearly long enough for a solid population of readers. And I've probably scared people off with my inconstant writer disclaimer at the very beginning, but I prefer to be as forthright as possible. I'm not a very good pimp, I'm afraid .

That said, I would *love* commentary from anyone. It's really the audience that keeps me going, after all!


----------



## incognito

*commentary*

yeah seasong, here's a Q:

What's with all the male nudity in your game?  Don't make me quote the lines, but dang, dude!  Put some leather on those poor chilly bastards!  One word "shrinkage" - reason enough to wear clothes in the mountains.

Also, is _more orcs_ really an ingredient?  More orcs with _dramatic rings of irony_ now, THAT'S an ingredient



My only suggestion thus far is that you edit your original post where you *claim* to be an inconsistent writer - you should see the crap that P-Cat puts his readers through.


----------



## seasong

*Re: commentary*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> What's with all the male nudity in your game?  Don't make me quote the lines, but dang, dude!  Put some leather on those poor chilly bastards!  One word "shrinkage" - reason enough to wear clothes in the mountains.



Bah! It's a balmy 60 degrees out! They've got knee-length tunics and sandals, ought to be enough for anyone. Why in my day...

Also, a few points:
- The imagery is grecian; Theralis is not greek, but they have similarities.
- Half (HALF) of the force is female. Remember, _all_ good children serve for a year.
- Shrinkage is good for athletic events and soldiering. Less wear & tear, yes?

On the plus side for the sensitive, it won't be coming up much throughout the story hour. My goal is to hover somewhere around PG in the writing.

_editted: Hey! I went and looked, and there's only one line on nudity. The 'otherwise naked' in the arms & equipment commentary is referring to their lack of armor, not their lack of clothing._


> Also, is _more orcs_ really an ingredient?  More orcs with _dramatic rings of irony_ now, THAT'S an ingredient



Think of it this way: the 'orcs' ingredient is where you see a buncha orcs, and they are trying to bust through your shield wall and stick you in the head with the foreleg of a trapping mantis.

'More orcs' is when you're thinking, "damn, that's a lot of orcs", and suddenly there's a whole bunch MORE. The ingredient, more properly, could be called "overflowing cup: even more of something in the scenario".







> My only suggestion thus far is that you edit your original post where you *claim* to be an inconsistent writer - you should see the crap that P-Cat puts his readers through.



Editted. And you're right. I'm often overly cautious in self-assessment, and the first two weeks of this, I've done almost daily posts . I need to improve my pimpin' skillz.


----------



## Capellan

*Re: Re: commentary*



			
				seasong said:
			
		

> *I need to improve my pimpin' skillz. *




Well, your updated sig suggests that you've grasped step 1! 

Step 2 is to make posts in story hours you think are cool, so that the readers of those will also check out yours.

Not that I know anyone who does that, of course 

To get back to the subject at hand: good story hour.  I've not had a chance to check out the web page in any detail as yet, but the levelling ideas seem interesting.  I like the setting, too - but then I have a fondness for using historical settings as influences on my own campaigns.

So, if Theralis corresponds to the Greeks, does that make the Orcs the Persians?  Are we seeing Thermopylae, here?


----------



## seasong

*Re: Re: Re: commentary*



			
				Capellan said:
			
		

> To get back to the subject at hand: good story hour.  I've not had a chance to check out the web page in any detail as yet, but the levelling ideas seem interesting.  I like the setting, too - but then I have a fondness for using historical settings as influences on my own campaigns.
> 
> So, if Theralis corresponds to the Greeks, does that make the Orcs the Persians?  Are we seeing Thermopylae, here?



Afraid not - Theralis is based more closely on pre-Messenian Sparta, with some lazy assumptions of Athenian-like advancement after that (the name, in fact, is taken from Therapne, a settlement that may have been Sparta's origin point ). Thermopylae would still be a long ways off.

There are some similarities between Eastpass and Thermopylae, however...

And thanks for the commentary . It really does keep me going.


----------



## seasong

*The First Battle of Eastpass, pt III*

Spread along either side of the eastern valley, what looked several hundred orcs camped in groups of 10-50. Tucked under shading trees or just laying flat on their backs in the morning sun, they more than doubled the number of defenders.

Greppa finally crawled up on watcher's rock, careful of his recently sealed wounds, and got a better look.

The orcs, sprawled about the slope of the mountain until they were hidden by the forest beyond, had completely blocked off the Eastpass trail north, and with it, any trade or help from that direction. Most were resting, although a few here and there wrestled while others formed circles around the competitors and jostled each other a bit. The spears... the spears were everywhere. Greppa hadn't suspected there could be so many insects of that size, and yet here were some 6-7 hundred orcs, each carrying a small collection of them.

He was glad he'd kept the two spearheads. They were rather neat, in a way.

Merideth and Athan, meanwhile, busied themselves with the wounded. Or rather, Merideth did, while Athan, unscratched, tried to make himself useful. It wasn't easy to be a hero, he was coming to see.

-----

The day passed slowly, the humans watching the orcs, the orcs watching the humans. But the orcs did not attack, merely continued to laze about.

Captain Agina was not fooled, and told everyone to rest in shifts until nightfall. Then everyone was to be awake.

In the deepest part of the night, the orcs finally attacked. As Agina had surmised, they intended to take full advantage of their uncanny nightvision. Eastpass quickly filled with dark shapes, wildly stabbed spears, quiet grunts of pain. A few humans held torches aloft as much as they could, but the torches always attracted thrown spears.

And the orcs were no slouches at throwing.

Greppa continued trying to hit the orcs with his spells, but began to feel useless. Captain Agina was beginning to think so, too, he knew.

Merideth continued to vaccilate between exhaustion and casting the best healing spells she knew.

And Athan, frustrated by his inability to connect with the enemy in the dark, was soon switched to longspear, where it was more difficult for him to wear himself out.

It was a long battle for everyone.

And then, the orcs retreated. They'd caused only a little damage, and no one had died. Of course, no orcs had died, either. And the defenders were tired, while only the majority of the orcs were still fresh, having ignored the shadowed battle.

-----

With morning, however, reinforcements finally arrived, with another two hundred youths with spears... and Hurath, Greppa's former master, flew in.

Greppa couldn't help but grin - he'd always known that Hurath could fly (it was one of the spells he'd carefully copied in the dead of the night, although unable to fully understand yet), but he'd never _seen_ it.

When Captain Agina began discussing finer tactics with him, however, and mentioned Greppa's _lesser shadow killer_ (wondering, perhaps, if there was something better he could be doing with his spell casting), his stomach knotted.

That was another of the spells he'd carefully copied in the dead of the night.

Hurath gave him a hurt look, and Greppa quietly tried to disappear among the other soldiers while they continued to talk. And he was almost glad when the soldiers on watcher's rock yelled ORCS!

-----

This fight ended somewhat quickly. Hurath flew up to watcher's rock, grabbing Greppa along the way, and coldly surveyed the orcs sprinting up the mountain toward the pass.

Then he smiled, drew a full circle (Greppa did not recognize it immediately), and spoke powerful words: "_bothfalli mu *taran*!_"

A streak of fire shot down upon the orcs, and then expanded in mere moments to encompass an entire warband, sucking air from their lungs and burning their flesh horribly. The orcs screamed, and started to run away as a second _fireball_ bore down on them and snuffed what remained of their lives.

Hurath looked a bit winded, but began casting again, this time directing the fiery death towards a second warband, further down slope.

That was enough for the orcs, and they began retreating en masse.

Hurath swiftly flew down to Captain Agina, and requested fifty of her soldiers to assist him in chasing the orcs a bit east... enough to clear the road north. He received them, and the fifty of them began jogging down the mountain to keep the orcs on the run.

Hurath, and the soldiers who went with him, never returned.

_to be continued..._
probably tomorrow morning


----------



## seasong

*The First Battle of Eastpass, pt III, continued*

...No one knew that Hurath would not return, of course. Two days were spent watching the valley, and seeing no orcs. That they had been chased off seemed evident, they merely had to wait on Hurath's return.

The night following that second day, orcs quietly walked up the mountainside to attack. Warning was short, and the perceptive young woman who had spotted the orcs and cried warning was run through by several orc spears for her reward.

The battle was brutal and nasty. Thirty of the three hundred odd defenders died, to two of the orcs, before the orcs retreated, running swiftly and surely down the unlit slope.

When a new warband came upslope to attack, less than an hour later, the soldiers were ready. Gone were the youthful men and women of a few days ago, replaced by dark circled eyes, hard-lined mouths, quiet determination. Spear work became almost mechanical, as tired limbs were forced to continue pushing through gaps in the shield wall, seeking soft flesh.

Athan, particularly, was actively angry. The first fight had been almost cathartic, and he'd killed a few orcs, even. Now, they retreated before wearing down enough for him to punch through their defenses. And he was getting tired, but each fight was a new set of orcs. This wasn't heroic warfare... it was a battle of attrition, between under 350 youths and twice that in veteran orcs.

Merideth had learned a hard lesson as well. She stopped healing as best as she could for each soldier, and instead channeled only just enough to stop their bleeding and keep them alive. She also grabbed a few soldiers who were milling around in the back, unsure of what to do, and told them to start slipping through the ranks and dragging the wounded back to her.

Startled by the new iron in her voice, they did as commanded.

Greppa, in a fit of inspiration, began making mud. When he'd finished, he began looking for the most dangerous orcs, and began casting. "_El gan kinos_" - a weaker form of shielding energy, reshaped to mimic the motions of his left hand over a distance. Carefully, he scooped up a glob of mud with the _mage hand_, and then sent it flying over the heads of the soldiers, and plopped it in the face of one of the orcs, smearing it as much into the eyes as he could.

The orc yelled, swung wildly, and fell back, trying to clear its eyes. Ignoring it, Greppa began carrying a glob of mud to the next one.

Swiftly, the orcs fell back. Their best warriors kept faltering, flailing wildly and yelling about the attacking _murkh_. The fight was no good, so they retreated, once again taking no losses.

Merideth hooted, "Greppa! Good one!"

He just grinned in reply. He was finally going to be useful on the battlefield.

The drums continued to beat, and another warband began jogging up the mountainside to the pass...


----------



## seasong

A quick note: at this point, the players were not feeling particularly hopeless. Merideth had figured out that she could cast _cure minor wounds_ repeatedly without tiring, and while she couldn't keep up with the rate the orcs were dishing damage, she could at least keep the damage fairly distributed. Athan, despite his whining about the lack of heroism, was responsible for forcing a lot of orcs to drop out of the battle, reducing the casualties on Athan's side. And Greppa was really being a pain in the neck to any orc that even remotely seemed to be doing well.

Orcs don't train in blindfighting, it would appear.

Aside from individual accomplishments, however, they also knew that reinforcements were due to arrive any day, and Theralis has a huge military. Aside from the 10-11 thousand youths who were in Service that particular year, every able-bodied adult could was trained to pick up a spear and march to war in need.

What they didn't know at the time, was that those reinforcements weren't on their way, at least not yet.


----------



## Caliber

Very cool story Seasong. 

Do you use CR XP awards in any way? Or is it all handled by a more abstract, 1 level = 1 year system?

Also, could you define your magical schools a bit more, or is that as much as you can/want to? I am simply curious what types of magic is really available for each type.

As cool as your house rules are, I know my players would skin me alive if I ever suggested using them, so I am interested in how they go.


----------



## seasong

Happy Thanksgiving! I'm checking over my chronology from last week's sessions before updating, but I should have the next installment sometime today.

And look! Questions!







			
				Caliber said:
			
		

> Do you use CR XP awards in any way? Or is it all handled by a more abstract, 1 level = 1 year system?



I give out awards by scenario, and I treat a year of "life" as a scenario, usually CR 1 or 2. The Battle of Eastpass was essentially a CR 3 scenario per day of actual battle on the front lines,  and non-front-liners (the PCs) got 20% of that per day (the PCs are level 2 throughout it). If it was just the PCs by themselves (instead of a fortified mass of defenders who are well prepared for assault), it would be closer to CR 10.

Since I don't give out awards by _encounter_, I don't divide the XP between participants. It works out to approximately the same advancement rate.

The website gives more detail on this, under Level Advancement.







> Also, could you define your magical schools a bit more, or is that as much as you can/want to? I am simply curious what types of magic is really available for each type.



At the moment, I'm doing the spell lists by ear (they are allowed to learn spells that fit their school, background, and 'character concept'), and I have not written much beyond the blurbs. However, I have an esper, healer and arcanist in the group. I eventually have to expand on those, at the very least .

To better answer your question about those three, however:

Arcanists: Evocation, some Invocation, Summoning, Conjuration. There are a few other kinds of spells that might fit, such as teleportations, and "kinetic evocation" (telekinetic effects). At the highest levels, this is more of a political school, as the arcanist begins dealing directly with entities of other planes as a peer.

Esper: Lots of sensory, divining, intuition, second sight spells. Some mind reading & telepathy spells, as well as charm person, sleep, dominate, etc. Basically, powers of the mind over the mind.

Healer: Just that. Cures and inflicts, diseases & poisons, regeneration, etc. At the highest levels, there shall be healing unto the like of which no mortal has seen. If Merideth survives to the high teens, she'll be healing armies, and near-unkillable herself.







> As cool as your house rules are, I know my players would skin me alive if I ever suggested using them, so I am interested in how they go.



Heck, I wouldn't suggest you use them just yet. This is playtest .

With that said, the house rules are working out fairly well. One player took the _ellini_ racial package, which is about how I wanted it (one demihuman at most), and everyone has been working out fairly unique characters.

Combat has been... interesting. I partially put together the Battle of Eastpass so I could see everything played out over a lot of rolls. A few things I've learned:

I'm having to rebalance a few of the 1-point weapon feats back up to full 5-point feats, lest Athan become an unstoppable killing machine. Otherwise, this has worked perfectly.

_Magic missile_ is no longer as useful. Orcs average around 24-26 hit points, and the _magic missiles_ do about 3.5 hp per shot, on average. I'm thinking about making them do -1 STR damage per missile, instead, which would make them worth casting again. Fireball at level 10 is going to be nasty (average 35 hp will kill almost any humanoid that didn't buff their HP as they levelled up), but I like it that way.

Shield walls _work_. I came up with the idea of the orc warbands trading out on assaults because I had to: long-term, a warband of orcs loses against The Wall. And the orcs, on average, are level 3-4, versus the shield guards' level 1-3. I also did some test runs with more orcs than defenders, and while the orcs had it a bit better, the shield wall still cuts them down eventually. For the mechanics I'm using, check this thread on shield & spear walls.

Warfare _really_ makes the low levels fly by. The next update will have the PCs reaching 3rd level. I've got to get their character sheets up on the website soon .


----------



## seasong

*The Battle of Eastpass, pt IV*

By the fourth day of cyclical assault, Captain Agina was near the end of her rope. The reinforcements still had not arrived, and she called Greppa to her tent.

"I'm sending you to Theralis. I need to know where our reinforcements are, and when they will be arriving. Take one of the other scouts with you, and be careful - it may be that there are more orcs keeping our reinforcements."

Greppa nodded, then asked, "Why me? There's plenty here who are better runners than me."

Agina smiled grimly, "I don't need speed, I need certainty that you will get there and back. You're the sneakiest person I've got, and the least likely to scream your fool head off if you see an orc again."

Greppa just grinned unrepentantly, and didn't ask any more questions.

-----

Athan rested against the base of the ravine, well back from the fighting. He could hear the clash of chitin spearhead on Theralese iron shields, and the grim thunk, thunk of the military machine attempting to grind the orcs into submission. He ignored it, kept his eyes closed, tried to relax aching muscles.

It was someone else's turn to fight, right now.

Merideth sat down beside him, all the while keeping a wary eye on the battle for soldiers being hauled out to heal. Healing was needed less and less the past two days, as the defenders got in the rhythm of shield up, spear out. The orcs were fresh, but they were wild, chaotic, undisciplined.

"Hey, you doing okay?"

Athan smiled, lips tight, but left his eyes closed.

"Ah, okay. You just looked, ah, stressed." Merideth stod awkwardly back up, "Let me know if you need anything."

Athan fell asleep immediately. In his dreams, drums.

_to be continued_


----------



## seasong

*The Battle of Eastpass, pt IV, continued*

Over the next day, several things happened at once.

Greppa reached Theralis safely, only to discover that reinforcements were not coming. There were orcs at Theralis, and a rather sizable battle going on there. Eastpass, although valued by the city, could be defended by a small group for an indefinite time, while the city was losing soldiers every day, and needed everyone they could get their hands on.

Greppa was barely allowed to leave, himself, to return to Captain Agina.

The orcs at Eastpass, when they realized that no more fireballs were coming, hiked upslope en masse, and began really whaling on the defenders. Merideth began missing sleep rather severely, as the only healer. She catnapped between clashes, catching a few minutes here and there, and healing soldiers in a fog of sleep deprivation.

Athan, called to battle, and not quite awake, managed to walk right into an orcish spear, ripping his gut open and dropping him out of the battle. Merideth healed enough to stabilize him, but only his iron constitution kept him alive.

And then Greppa returned with the bad news.

-----

Another two days, and the shield guards were functionally automatons. Few things can focus your skills like the daily threat of death, and the orcs had come to fear their lock-stepped shields. The soldiers themselves hid entirely behind the shields, trusting the movements of the spears behind them to guide their movement.

-----

And then, finally, reinforcements, of two kinds.

Eastpass led to the north, the primary trade partner of the Theralis valleys. And while Theralis had stored food, they couldn't last through a sustained siege on that and grapes. Thus, Eastpass became suddenly, vitally important, and a thousand soldiers were setn away from the Theralis front, to aid Eastpass in clearing the northern road.

Secondly, however, were the people of the Theralis valleys. All had served in the military during their youth, and they'd spent the past week frantically making spears and gathering into informal companies. Now they'd arrived, ten thousand strong: northern farmers, fathers and mothers, aunts and uncles, ready to tear into the orcs like a human storm.

War is hell, even for orcs.

-----

The plan, after Captain Agina had been safely over ruled, was to push out of the pass and into the valley, using those soldiers who had shields (perhaps 300) as a wedge.

Then a lot of people would die. But more orcs would die than Theralese, and there were more Theralese than orcs, by nearly a 3 to 1 ratio. Theralese Captains like words like acceptable loss, when it's acceptable to them.

As morning dawned, they began the push.

-----

Athan was put just behind the center of the longspears, wielding a short spear and a freshly healed gut. A pair of youths bracketed him, carrying as many spears as they could. Their job was to hand him spears as he threw them, and to pick spears up off the ground as the shield line stepped over them. Another two dozen youths were arrayed similarly - the goal was to prevent hurt orcs from getting away from the front line to heal.

Merideth followed just behind the longspears as well, accompanied by two more experienced healers. Together, the three of them would attempt to keep the carnage to a manageable level.

Greppa had a pair of youths bracketting him, as well: two hurt soldiers, each carrying buckets of mud.

Captain Agina was chosen to lead the central group. She expected to die.

The push began, shield guards using their shields and the pointy ends of those behind them to force the orcs back. The orcs were, to put it mildly, surprised - they knew the shields as something that held a line, not shoved forward.

One braced step at a time, the line surged out of the narrow pass, and began a downslope descent. Orcs who turned to run were brought down by hurled spears; orcs who stayed to fight found themselves beating on an iron wall while spears poked out of closely covered slits. Orcs began to die, and the wall marched on.

For several minutes, this continued, until the shield line reached the point where it could no longer cover the entire battle field. Then, the line stopped and held, while the ten thousand fresh adults got into position, and prepared for the hard part.

-----

The orcs were not idle, however. The Bunahken tribe, in particular, devised a cunning strategem. As other tribes retreated before the Theralese war machine, they hastily chopped down a number of sizable pine trees, and began stripping branches off.

The trunks were laid out, and cut to a manageable length, and then they waited for the Theralese to begin moving downslope again.

-----

Finally, everything was as ready as it could be. Athan's two assistants had handed off their extra spears and retreated behind the second wall, high in the pass. The injured were similarly removed from the battle. Two spears arranged themselves with each shield guard, and prepared to keep as much formation as possible. Merideth and Greppa got as close to center as possible, praying that the warm bodies around them would keep them alive while they cast their spells.

The army advanced.

The battle was more chaotic now. Defenders at the edge of the shield wall fought more desparately, and a wall of spears barely kept the orcs at bay. Attention shifted to these edges, and soldiers began to die. Orcs died faster.

As they began to get near the bottom of the slope, a ragged cheer formed, and the Theralese war machine continued to grind its way onto the northern road.

The Bunahken made their move. At a dead run, they came out of the forest, hauling a half ton of battering ram with them. Dozens of orcs on each side, they broke cover and charged the line of shields. A number of spears were hurled. A number of Bunahken fell. But the rest continued the charge.

When the first tree hit the first shield, the sound was, by some quirk of fate, almost a pure tone, like an iron bass gong. The shield guard carrying it never noticed - his shield had slammed into him at something close to twenty miles an hour, and he'd flown backwards several feet, unconscious, through his spear comrades.

Nor was the tree stopped. It punched through the first spear soldier's gut, mostly splitting his torso in half, and grazed the leg of the longspear behind him, shattering the thigh. The orcs continued the charge, deep into the shield line, as people dove to either side trying to avoid the tree.

And then the charging orcs lifted their spears from their backs, and began to slaughter... as the second and third trees hit, with less pure tones, the shield wall.

In the space of six seconds, the tide turned.

_to be continued_


----------



## seasong

A few metagame notes:

1. We didn't roleplay out the whole fight down the mountainside. I assumed an even distribution of good and bad rolls, and just described what happened. The shield wall, as I mentioned before, works _very well_ as long as both ends of the wall are tethered. We did roleplay out the battering ram, some representative rolls, and what people were doing during the battle.

2. The Theralese people never even considered forming into a circle of shields, and the players never mentioned it. It would have been more defensible, but far slower, and would have given the orcs an opportunity to surround them, or move past them to the defenders at the pass.

3. Athan was a monster. We rolled out about two dozen throws and treated that as a representative sample, and he just wasn't missing. He's going to be sung about, no question. By humans and orcs alike.

4. The look I got when the battering rams came charging out of the forest was priceless. Greppa momentarily switched back to _lesser shadow killer_ in an attempt to distract the lead orcs, Athan threw his spear for all he was worth, Merideth fretted. And then the first one hit, and the PCs began to look around for how to best retreat. Never ever underestimate a primitive people that do war for a living.


----------



## seasong

I have based the _kobold_ on a mixture of the D&D dragonkin and the older myths from which the name is stolen. The original kobolds were more similar to the house elves of _Harry Potter_ than the strange cavern dwelling humanoids they have since become.

*March of Kobolds*

The _kobold_ is a small humanoid, reptilian in nature and slender of build, that socialize in small social groups called a _march_ for their tendency to stay on the move.

A _kobold_ standing upright is a hair under three feet tall and 20 pounds, with a beak-like snout, large yellow eyes, and a very flat cranial profile. A small ridge of horns overhangs the sides of the skull, with a particularly impressive pair sweeping rearward from the back of the skull. Their necks are slender and delicate, with a heavy fold of loose skin. Their torsos are not entirely upright, and their skinny arms and legs look better designed for running on all fours. They possess a stiff tail that has two positions: horizontal and 45 degrees upright. _Kobolds_ have the same coloration as dragons, and are believed by many scholars to be the results of experiments in the bioessences of dragons.

_Kobolds_ are masters of stealth and trickery. Tracking them is almost impossible, and they are cunning as foxes in leading an unwary hunter into treacherous obstacles, ambushes, and worse. Like their dragon kin, they can make themselves almost impossible to spot in natural settings.

Despite their small size, _kobolds_ are swift runners: they move 15 feet on two feet, or 30 feet on all fours.

Socially, _kobolds_ are best suited for the service of others. They are clever, efficient and hard-working, but often lack personal initiative or drive. In the service of a Great Cause, they can be almost fanatical, but lacking such, they tend to do the bare minimum required to get by, settling into sub-agrarian poverty.

*Amalan's Kobolds*

The dragon Amalan is known to have a march of _kobolds_ in his service, but it is unknown how many. They hunt the wilder areas of the valley woods, and occasionally raid grapes and the rare chicken.

The _kobolds_ are more fond of wines than grapes, however, and many farmers have found that if they leave a bottle every so often, the _kobolds_ can be helpful in an unseen, quiet manner. Typical aid is difficult to pin down, but claims range from herding forest predators away to weeding vegetable gardens in the dead of night.

The only real contact Theralis has had with the _kobolds_ was thirty years ago, when Amalan warned the city to clean their water more thoroughly - he sent a kobold representative named Urmrat to give the warning. The city wisely heeded the diminutive creature's advice, and nothing more was ever heard.


----------



## seasong

Sorry about all of the "continued" bits. We ran this as one part of the campaign arc, but the telling is getting a bit long.

*The Battle of Eastpass, pt IV, continued*

Near the bottom of the mountain, some eight thousand soldiers, about a tenth of which were barely adults. A quarter mile upslope, the safety of the narrow pass. All around, the swirling chaos of a thousand Bunahken orcs.

In theory, eight thousand soldiers should be able to take on less than a quarter their number, even if the enemy is bigger and stronger. In practice, it was a rout, and a slaughter.

Youths and adults both gave up any pretense at fighting, and attempted to flee up the mountain to safety, as seven foot plus humanoids, armed with chitin-tipped spears, stabbed and slashed and stomped.

Halfway up-mountain, Greppa could see Captain Agina's standard drop, and could hear her clear, cold voice cutting through the thin mountain air.

"TO ME! RETREAT TO ME!"

As many soldiers as could grouped around her. Some had retained their shields, most had not. Drawing her sword, Captain Agina began the messy business of carving a path through the few orcs that had made it so high, back to safety.

Greppa ran, but a small group of orcs interposed themselves between Greppa and his mud bearers. They pushed their spears to his neck, and watched his hands carefully, but did not kill him outright.

Greppa wisely refrained from rash moves, and kept his eyes open. The orcs tied his hands and gagged his mouth.

What he saw was disheartening. The orcs were not even trying to kill anyone anymore. They were cutting them off from the line of retreat, forcing surrenders, then tying them up.

Greppa saw Merideth attempt to run around them, and an orc easily three times her mass body tackled her. He saw Athan, trying to hold off three orcs with a broken spear, desparately keeping them away from a fallen soldier. One got around behind him, and swung the butt of its spear to the back of Athan's head. He went down bonelessly. The injured soldier, they killed out of hand.

After that, perhaps half of the force that had gone down the mountain made it back up. Most of the rest were captured and tied.

The slaves were marched into the forest, where the orc forces encamped.


----------



## Caliber

Very cool. Thanks for the links you posted.

I was interested to note that you offer a somewhat reduced price on many feats when they are taken to only apply to one weapon.

I take it Athan loaded up on these?


----------



## Capellan

And it all started so well!

One question I have is about the population of your game world.  Just how bad a disaster is the loss of 4,000 able-bodied adults?  In my own setting, for instance, that'd be a disaster equivalent to the entire destruction of one of the largest towns - or 40% of the capital city.

Be interesting to see how the PCs get out of this one - and also to get a closer look at the orcish culture in your game.


----------



## seasong

> _Caliber wrote:_
> I was interested to note that you offer a somewhat reduced price on many feats when they are taken to only apply to one weapon.
> 
> I take it Athan loaded up on these?



He did indeed . We've fixed the issue - I'm hoping to update the website by Wednesday with all of the fixes, as well as a bunch of new feat lists.







> _Capellan wrote:_
> And it all started so well!
> 
> One question I have is about the population of your game world. Just how bad a disaster is the loss of 4,000 able-bodied adults? In my own setting, for instance, that'd be a disaster equivalent to the entire destruction of one of the largest towns - or 40% of the capital city.
> 
> Be interesting to see how the PCs get out of this one - and also to get a closer look at the orcish culture in your game.



Theralis has about 500,000 people total, of which 50,000 are in Theralis itself. The 4,000 people that were lost were mostly from the regions near Eastpass, and those regions will be hurt bad (not enough people to even bring in the grapes and make wine), but Theralis (the city) was hurt worse, overall, by the war at its gates.

And everyone is going to be pretty hurt if the trade route doesn't reopen in a week or two.

As for orc culture... heh. My players pretty much said they've had a bellyful of "rich orc culture", we'll see how well that translates into the writing.

"And it started so well"... heh.


----------



## seasong

Note: in the first chunk of part IV of the Battle of Eastpass, where Captain Agina is telling Greppa why she's sending _him_ to Theralis for reinforcements, Greppa was _grinning_ rather than blushing. My bad, and I've corrected it in the post.


----------



## Greybar

Just catching up after Thanksgiving vaca...

Seasong, this looks great.  The background and the storyline.  One question:

Had the players realized Hurath wasn't coming back by the time the big battle came along?

Best of luck to the captives! They may be back to buck naked soon for incognito's pleasure.  No wait, that sounds wrong. 

Seriously though, I think that Greek approach to body consciousness fits great into your setting.  My current game world is set in a warm climate and the "nudity taboo" is more about the implied prosperity then about sexuality.  It's better to look prosperous, healthy, and nude than to look dirty, rough, and wearing coarse clothing.  But it's better yet to have beautiful, brightly colored clothing well cut.

Given Merideth's reaction upon seeing Athan, I'd say the more important issue is what taboos exist about relationships between enlisted men and women (or same sex couples, given the Greek theme you mention).

John


----------



## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> Had the players realized Hurath wasn't coming back by the time the big battle came along?



The players suspected. Greppa continued to hold out hope, even there at the end.

And of course, my players know not to trust me until they see the body.







> Best of luck to the captives! They may be back to buck naked soon for incognito's pleasure.  No wait, that sounds wrong.



He he he. The captives do all right for themselves, but the bargain they make is costly.







> Seriously though, I think that Greek approach to body consciousness fits great into your setting.  My current game world is set in a warm climate and the "nudity taboo" is more about the implied prosperity then about sexuality.  It's better to look prosperous, healthy, and nude than to look dirty, rough, and wearing coarse clothing.  But it's better yet to have beautiful, brightly colored clothing well cut.



That sounds cool! I don't suppose you have a website for your setting?







> Given Merideth's reaction upon seeing Athan, I'd say the more important issue is what taboos exist about relationships between enlisted men and women (or same sex couples, given the Greek theme you mention).



Well, I'd hoped to dodge Eric's Grandma, but... 

Firstly, both Merideth _and_ Greppa have been admiring Athan's (admittedly admirable) physique. With that said:

_Everyone_ in Theralis is enlisted during their youth, so quite literally, everyone the three friends might get in a relationship with, who is their age, is enlisted. It's not a real issue.

However, physical relations are forbidden during the term of Service. Ostensibly this is to focus people on their duty, but there is a more practical reason: half of the soldiers are female, and pregnant soldiers don't fight.

Aside from that, thus far they're both out of luck where Athan is concerned. He's evinced a complete lack of interest in sex, regardless of gender. If you've read _The Deed of Paksenarrion_, I think that's what he's aiming for .

As for the Greek theme... it's complicated (culture usually is), but in essence:

Family:
* Families require heirs; this is a duty of the oldest living child.
* Marriage is always male-female, and is the "balance basis" of a new family.
* Family is a very different beast from love.

Lovers:
* The concept of a lifemate exists, but they're rare.
* Same-sex love is reasonably common, about 6% of the population.
* Love is a very different beast from family.

Philosophy:
* Egalitarianism is very, very strong in Theralis.
* Male/Female is not a dichotomy, but a careful balancing.
* There are hero legends where gender has _changed_; in one or two, this was willing (and necessary for powers to be gained).

Exceptions:
* There are male-only and female-only mystery cults, usually oriented around Atmos and Demis.
* Men are more commonly wilderness-oriented. Women are more commonly community-oriented. However, female scouts, hunters and hermits are not uncommon, and neither are male politicians, civil servants and engineers.


----------



## snownoir

*On Athan*

*Sigh* It seems that Merideth and I will have to suffer....until Seasong gives me that hot Orc bard I've been badgering him about.

Snownoir=Greppa's player


----------



## seasong

I should have known it would be sex that lured a player to post .


----------



## Greybar

> That sounds cool! I don't suppose you have a website for your setting?




Yeah, but I'll keep it hidden until I put some more work into it. [grin]  Actually my game is on hiatus (alternating with a friend's game in half-year-ish chunks).  However, once we get started again I have a hankerin' to try my hand at a story hour.  yeah, promises promises.
No pressure, but I'll be using you as a role model. [grin]


My societal structure is actually somewhat of an anti-thesis to yours.  The originating concept was a world where the gender roles were strongly divided, but not in the dominant/subserviant axis.  Women (Sunborn) and Men (Moonborn) are very separated down to their spiritual roots.  Sunborn have immortal souls, but one life to prove themselves in so that they can take their place in the heavens.  Moonborn have reincarnate souls, and thus may unknowingly be the next life of a great hero (or terrible villain).  But there I'll stop, since this thread is about seasong's cool world not mine. 

John


----------



## snownoir

Earthboys are easy.


----------



## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> However, once we get started again I have a hankerin' to try my hand at a story hour.  yeah, promises promises.
> No pressure, but I'll be using you as a role model. [grin]



Aiee!







> My societal structure is actually somewhat of an ...



That does look pretty cool. Let me know when you have a website up. I devour other people's worlds like candy .


----------



## incognito

Whew!  I am back from a 6 day T-day break, and as I suspected this thread has had, significant seasong posting.  Good gravy seasong!  You are prolific; wanna write a term paper?

Ok questions:

1. Where are the Orc spell casters (are there any?)

2. The orcs seem to have some pretty impressive resources.  Why are they _just now_ becoming a threat?

3. How do the players feel about having somewhat of a "along for the ride" role in this portion of the story arc - certainly this is somewhat derailed from your 'typical' adventure in which the players are the main stars.

4.  I assume you have worked out counters for each military trick, each side, that comes up.  ie: the shield wall is used to keep out physically superior, or more numerous combatants, and the rams are designed to take down the shield wall - what takes down the rams?  Fireballs?  or something non magical.

5. With the capture of the adventurers, are we going to see some...errr...gritty treatment of prisoners?  Or are we keeping this on the up and up.

6. there is no question 6...


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> 1. Where are the Orc spell casters (are there any?)



You'll be meeting one in the next update or two. In general, however, orcs are less able to employ specialists who can devote the study time required to become a good spell caster - where Theralis can support about 1 in 250 people as a spell caster, orcs can support less than 1 per 1,000.







> 2. The orcs seem to have some pretty impressive resources.  Why are they _just now_ becoming a threat?



Lots of reasons. The major ones are:

* Orcs are nomadic raiders and hunters by culture, grouped into tribes of (typically) 500-1000. They organize into warbands of 20-30 orcs, who hunt over a really huge area. Usually, a tribe will slowly migrate from hunting area to hunting area over the course of a few years, covering somewhere around 4,000 square miles. That's sufficient to support the tribe, and barring occasional raids for 'goods' in civilized areas, that's all anyone sees of them.

* They are occasionally a threat. Some tribe will get a bone in their head about killing all the humans, or retaking sacred lands, or moving into sweeter pastures... and a whole tribe (usually a bit bigger than usual, say 1500-2000 orcs) will up and assault some area. Those are rough times, but it's only one tribe.

* This isn't one tribe. It's closer to half a dozen tribes, all at once.

* Impressive resources? They've got spears, drums, hide clothing, and some purchased axes. The Bunahken orcs comprise about 1200 (they're the largest tribe currently attacking Theralis), and they ended up at the more difficult Eastpass - most of the others are trying to assault the city instead.

* As to why the orcs are attacking all at once, now of all times... well, that's something the players have to discover .







> 3. How do the players feel about having somewhat of a "along for the ride" role in this portion of the story arc - certainly this is somewhat derailed from your 'typical' adventure in which the players are the main stars.



I can't really answer for the players here, but...

* I think Athan would disagree .

* A large part of Merideth's and Greppa's concepts are ambition to rise above exactly this. So I have to give them a taste of being one among hundreds, before I let them work their way to the top.

* We're building heroes. Heroes come from somewhere, and I like to build the 'where'.

It's more complicated than that, but I'm running out of time to post .







> 4.  I assume you have worked out counters for each military trick, each side, that comes up.  ie: the shield wall is used to keep out physically superior, or more numerous combatants, and the rams are designed to take down the shield wall - what takes down the rams?  Fireballs?  or something non magical.



Yes.

Neither side has really fought this kind of war before. Theralis was founded by slaves of the orcs, each and every one of whom fought for their freedom (hence the tradition of Service for the first year of adulthood). Discipline was a given, but the primary tactics evolved from a few clever generals during the early years of Thera's rule, and have not changed much since then (a few things, like the longspears and constant presence of a healer or two, were added later in their history). The orcs are fighting like they've always fought - individually, as fierce warriors, united by the heartbeat of their drums.

So both sides are learning how to fight, and learning where their weaknesses are.

A real simple trick to stop the rams, incidentally: Open the ranks for the ram, and set spears to catch the orcs carrying it. The main advantage of the rams was surprise.







> 5. With the capture of the adventurers, are we going to see some...errr...gritty treatment of prisoners?  Or are we keeping this on the up and up.



The rating for this Story Hour is EG (Eric's Granny). Some things may be implied, but this is an instance where I prefer drama over realism.







> 6. there is no question 6...



Yes, absolutely. Fish.


----------



## seasong

As a side note regarding mass battles (incognito's question made me think of this)...

Reading the above, it should be apparent that the PCs are not pivotal to the way the battles turn out, although they have come close. Some instances where they influenced events heavily:

Greppa screaming "ORC" and nearly dying determined whether the orcs or Theralese would have the advantage. Things would have been much, much worse otherwise.

Merideth's healing IS pivotal - without it, the Theralis soldiers would have been overrun days ago.

Athan targetting leaders with his immensely deadly spear-chunking skills and Greppa's "blinding mud spell" have essentially _guaranteed_ that the orcs approach more cautiously.

Still, the fact remains that much of the decision-making action has hinged on the leaders of the community. This is realistic, but can sometimes be frustrating.

Ultimately, however, these things serve a higher purpose. 5-10 levels down the line, we'll go through this kind of exercise again, except that the PCs will be playing a very different role, and this experience will provide them with the grounding to understand _just how bad ***_ they have become.


----------



## Inez Hull

Great story hour Seasong. I wish my players were more willing to play a storytelling type campaign. It looks like your 'experience over a lifetime' system is working in practice. How do your players find it? I know mine would find the wait for Xp infuriating. 

A question. Given that the PC's will only be doing a couple of adventures a year, with real life continuing in the meantime, how will the campaign play out? Obviously the typical progress five levels in one mega adventure type game wouldn't work. How will you keep a consistent story arc going though when the adventures are sporadic. This is the main difficulty I have found in moving towards this type of play. I guess a war setting in a mountainous region would help; snows blocking the passes and a 'campaigning season' when military engagements occur. 

I checked out your website and I really like the ideas behind your magic system. Which classes are able to access which spell lists? Any details will be hungrily gobbled up as I'm looking at introducing a new spell system which works using the skill system.


----------



## seasong

Inez Hull said:
			
		

> Great story hour Seasong. I wish my players were more willing to play a storytelling type campaign. It looks like your 'experience over a lifetime' system is working in practice. How do your players find it? I know mine would find the wait for Xp infuriating.



Thank you for the kind words .

As always, I can't speak for the players' feelings directly, but when we're not doing D&D, we handle skill improvement purely with training time (as opposed to an XP system), so there's some precedent.

Also, in _playing time_, XP comes reasonably quickly. We spend as much time roleplaying the 'in between time' as the players want, but when they're ready for adventure and XP earning power, we skip ahead to that.







> A question. Given that the PC's will only be doing a couple of adventures a year, with real life continuing in the meantime, how will the campaign play out? Obviously the typical progress five levels in one mega adventure type game wouldn't work. How will you keep a consistent story arc going though when the adventures are sporadic. This is the main difficulty I have found in moving towards this type of play. I guess a war setting in a mountainous region would help; snows blocking the passes and a 'campaigning season' when military engagements occur.



Mmmm, mountains.

Roughly how it will play out: The PCs start as young adventurers, grow into their roles, become great heroes as they approach middle age, and become living legends as they begin to age. I'm hoping to do some epic gaming before the campaign is out.

Yes, the typical 5-level mega adventure probably won't work so well for this campaign. As incognito noted, this isn't a very typical campaign.

For a consistent story arc, well... I can't say too much without spoiling some long term plans, but I hope to demonstrate a number of in-story techniques for keeping everyone together, a coherent arc going, and a sense of long-term story fulfillment.

In the present action, I'm using the war setting as a creche chamber, during which the PCs develop loyalty to each other without as strong a chance of going separate ways. Among other things .







> I checked out your website and I really like the ideas behind your magic system. Which classes are able to access which spell lists? Any details will be hungrily gobbled up as I'm looking at introducing a new spell system which works using the skill system.



In theory, anyone can learn any type of magic. In practice, it requires enough dedication that someone who learns magic usually has to sacrifice just about everything else.

Greppa could be likened to a Rogue who is shifting to pure Spell Caster. Merideth is a pure Spell Caster who wishes she was also a great Warrior. Athan is a great Warrior with no magic at all.

I'm working on some expanded explanation on the web site, but I don't know how soon that will be finished. Eventually I should have a complete OGL system in place, without as much need for constant GM oversight.


----------



## seasong

*Mountain Thunder: Rich Orc Culture*

*Deep In The Woods*

*Athan* finally awoke, hog tied and hanging from a tree branch. His memory of facing down three orcs was clear, but all else was dimmed by pain.

"_Eh, Egmah vohk. Krugahn, helkehm egmah._"

Crude laughter. Cold water. Sudden, sharp wakefulness.

And that's when he figured out what had happened. He'd been captured. Not killed in battle. No heroic last stand, or courageous victory - capture, taken alive by the enemy. Athan felt sick inside.

He was in a small camp, with about two dozen orcs scattered around a pair of mostly coal fires. Human prisoners, dwarfed by the orcs, stood in two lines of twenty, tied at the neck to a common rope between pairs of trees. Athan was the only one in his particular predicament, however, and while the others were barely watched, six of the orcs were right next to him, standing in a lazy approximation of watchfulness.

The orc who had thrown the icy water on him stepped in to look him in the eyes. Despite the black pit in his stomach, Athan's gaze did not quaver. He held the orc's gaze, looked angry.

The orc laughed, "_Egmah ufgah, eh!_" and grinned pridefully at the other orcs.

Athan was the great hero of Eastpass. Over the last week he had felled more orcs than there were in this camp. And the leader of this small warband was rightly pleased to have captured such a prestigious trophy.

*Greppa's* situation was different. He'd yielded, when the spear was at his throat. He'd _given in_ to an enemy, however hopeless. Athan's clenching gut would have quailed before the fury of Greppa's internalized humiliation.

His and Merideth's hands and fingers bound carefully, their mouths gagged, and then they were tied and roped into a string of other captured soldiers. A few yards from them, a muscular orc sat on a rock, a wide, flat drum of hide cradled between arm and chest. He was beating it with what looked like a thigh bone, generating a near-deafening bass sound. The orc grinned at them continuously as he beat on the drum.

*Merideth*, on the other hand, felt no shame. Thera had been a great hero, and had risen from origins as an orc slave. Merideth would, too. Carefully, she cultivated a firm gaze and a firm chin.

And hoped both would last.

*Eh, Egmah vohk. Krugahn, helkehm egmah.*
_Egmah_ means 'my that'. They'll be hearing this a lot.
_Vohk_ is a verb for 'dawning'; the orc is apparently a poet.
_Krugahn_ is a personal name, and does not translate well, but roughly corresponds to 'great cat' in old orcish.
_Helkehm_ means to greet or host someone. It is used here in an ironic sense.

*Egmah ufgah, eh!*
_Ufgah_ is used here to mean 'has courage', but translated literally means 'does not bend'.


----------



## seasong

The PCs did not witness this directly, but as they got to know Olgah, came to understand it. This is a vignette from the orc's point of view. I like orcs.

*Mountain Thunder: Rich Orc Culture*

Olgah surveyed more slaves with a critical eye. She was a powerful shaman, she wanted good slaves. Olgah's slaves were usually women. Women were smarter, in her opinion.

Today, however, was tiring. Too many slaves to choose from. She had to pick the best, or risk ridicule, but there were so many!

Then she saw them. Two girls, huddled together, one tall and defiant, the other small and near tears. That was not important. What was important was what the spirits whispered to her - these two were mages.

Olgah nodded to herself in satisfaction, a small smile on her face. She had always admired what the mages of Theralis could do, had even considered taking a few years off to live amongst the smelly humans to learn it herself. And so many days ago, she had seen one in combat, burning several warbands to death with his spells.

It had been so unfortunate that she had been unable to acquire that one.

But these two would do.

She examined them carefully (somewhat appalled when she learned that one - the smaller, tearful one - was, despite appearances, male), and found them healthy enough and pretty enough for her status, and spoke to the orc selling them.

"Why do you want these two, shaman? They are weak. I should keep them, for shame in having caught them."

"Hmph. You have no pride? They are very adequate. I will not require heavy chores of them. I have a small cave, light things. Give these to me."

"I fear only that you will be angry with me later, when they break. This one," he pointed at Greppa, "gave up without a fight. The other only ran. I could not give such weak gifts to a shaman. My prey will laugh at me."

"I do not ask you to give weak gifts. I see into their spirit, and they are good gifts." Olgah considered for a moment, her brow furrowed, and the orc did not interrupt her. Interrupting the shaman while she thought was an age-old hazard that all young orcs knew of. "Give these to me. I will promise not to be angry at you for their nature. And I will speak to the spirits on your behalf. I will tell the prey how mighty you are, and tell them why these two are a good capture. The prey will not laugh at you. The prey will seize with fear when you come, and fall dead at your feet."

The orc nodded, and the trade was made. He regretted losing two such pretty trinkets, but the shaman's word with prey was practically meat on the table.

Only one other acquisition remained for Olgah. She wasn't happy about it, but her station demanded that she ask for the captured hero. She did not care much for heroes, particularly male ones. He would be a burden on her home, eating too much, fighting too much, trying to escape. She sighed, but finally approached Gach, the leader of the warband that had captured him.

Gach had hoped that the tribal chieftain would ask for the young hero, but the chieftain had asked that he go to the shamaness. Still, it was a great honor, and if he played it right, the shaman would owe him a nebulous favor.

"Shaman! Welcome to our camp. I am humbled by your presence!"

Olgah smiled - Gach was such a formalist - and matched his polite swagger, "I greet you and your camp, band leader. I heard that you had captured a mighty warrior, and sought to see with my own eyes, your unmatched skill in battle!"

"Your words bring me great pleasure, shaman. Here is our capture."

And with that, Gach stepped aside and two of his orcs stepped out, holding Athan firmly by the neck and arms. His hands were still bound behind him, but he had been untied from the tree for this purpose.

Olgah was speechless. She had expected some ugly, old veteran who had traded battle scars for teeth. This young man, however, was beautiful even to orc eyes.

Gach saw the measuring look in her eyes, and allowed himself a tight grin, "Shaman! I see that our capture interests you. Please, take him!"

Olgah stopped staring long enough to smile, a bit sourly, as she realized how she'd been set up. She'd asked without asking, and in so doing, was unable to offer an exchange gift when she received one. To offer now would seem crass. She had her station to remember.

"You are too generous, band leader!" She meant it. "It does indeed interest me. My gratitude flows freely!"

And with that, Olgah found herself in possession of a rare specimen of human athleticism, who was going to eat too much, fight too much, and probably escape before she could even pay back the debt incurred upon her.

Olgah led Athan away in a foul mood.


----------



## incognito

> This is a vignette from the orc's point of view. I like orcs.




Hmmm, seasong...we may have to have a leetle talk sometime...

high points of the recent posts: the very differnt reactions of the 3 PCs to being captured.  All belivable too!

AND: I have a much better idea what Greppa looks like now that I can see him through Orcish eyes.  I had though Meredith was the slight, frail one...but I see I was mistaken!

Q1.
Do the Orcs undrestand Greppa is not human?

Q2.
Are there (for Athan's sake I hope not) 1/2 Orcs? (aside: _daaaang - can any PC/NPCs stop drooling over Athan? I getting jealous!_)  

Q3.
Are slaves good eatin'?  Or stricktly workforce types.

Q4.
Did the captain make it?


----------



## Delgar

Just thought I would say that I've enjoyed reading through your stuff so far. It seems like you have a very rich and detailed world and some very interesting character development. I myself, lack the time and ambition for such a project but definately applaude your attempts! 

I myself am running a very hack and slash campaign at the moment (Sunless Citadel, Forge of Fury, etc.). Thanks to your Greecian theme, I'm also throwing around the idea of a Gladitorial campaign (I know it's Roman, but it's close).

Anyway, that's all moot. I look forward to reading more about your campaign.

Delgar


----------



## seasong

*Brief History of Theralis*

*600-500 years ago*

According to legend, Thera was a slave who led her people to freedom. In the legends, she led the fight to freedom, arranged a deal with a dragon for land to settle, defeated a horde of orc barbarians, invented the shield & spear fighting line, placed the first stone of the first tower of Theralis, and slew the _morgantor_ (a fell creature of the infernal realms that had escaped and intended to destroy civilization).

She died defeating the _morgantor_, dragging it back into the infernal pits from which it came, a little over 500 years ago.

*500-400 years ago*

The end of Thera's reign was marked with a great deal of confusion and bitterness. Up until her death, she had simply led her people, and they had followed where she went. The structure was reasonably simple, almost tribal, and was based more on her wisdom than any common cultural foundation.

Without Thera, factions sprang up around how things should be run, and outright fighting threatened.

In the end, for better or worse, the militant faction of Urith prevailed - if it had come to fighting, they were the strongest, and so they managed to broker the needed alliances to forge a solid government. Urith was the strongest of Thera's generals, and the least liked for his hard ways (he was also possibly the true originator of the shield & spear line).

Urith was a militant to the last. He believed that every citizen should fight for their nation, and instituted a system for ensuring that each individual spent time in Service (the original term was 5 years, plus random years spent training new soldiers; this reduced steadily over the generations). He also weakened the position of 'leader', and created a military council that made most of the major decisions. He lived for another decade after setting this up, his succession already assured in the form of the council.

The remainder of this century refined this system. Only soldiers who had spent at least 1/2 of their lifespan in Service could become members of the Council; members of the Council selected their replacements by nomination and seconding; the Council consists of 10 council members and each of their cabinets. The population also swelled, and a number of small towns grew up in the shadow of the vine-covered mountains.

In all, the towns managed reasonably well, and no major threats occurred. Civilization incubated, and the Council grew in strength.

*The beginnings of recorded history*

The beginning of this century, the historian and lore master Rajold began recording events. Urith's great grandson, Rajold first recorded the name 'Theralis' in referring to the valley region, and first began the practice of recording names at birth. The latter was done purely for purposes of history, but the military soon coopted the records for their own purposes - making sure everyone spent time in Service. Rajold also did a fairly credible job of recovering the names of the past several generations, although some have complained of his bias.

Based on his best understanding of prior history, Rajold declared the year since the founding of the valleys to be 202 (it is now 608).

*Recorded History (major events)*

198  The first census
202  Rajold declares the year.
221  Rajold dies of chills in winter
245  The first recorded war with orcs; a tribe of 600 is repelled
240+ The hero Turin (defeats the orcs, re-routes a river)
300  The Century Riot
310  Council Member Mura declares centuries to be a celebration
350+ Trade begins with the north
366  Eastpass is carved out of the mountains
398  Amalan the dragon attacks a village that encroached to far
399  War with Amalan is avoided with northern tribute
400  Century Celebration
420+ The grape first starts noticeably dominating the valleys
450+ The hero Athana ('the drunken spear maiden', many deeds)
500  Century Celebration
579  Urmrat the kobold warns Theralis to clean their water
600  Century Celebration
607  The First Battle of Eastpass


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Hmmm, seasong...we may have to have a leetle talk sometime...
> 
> AND: I have a much better idea what Greppa looks like now that I can see him through Orcish eyes.  I had though Meredith was the slight, frail one...but I see I was mistaken!



A talk? About what? Will it be about orcs? I like orcs.

Yeah, Greppa is tiny - he started with low STR/CON, and then added _ellini_ penalties to both. Merideth isn't particularly buff, but Greppa makes her look athletic by comparison.







> Q1. Do the Orcs undrestand Greppa is not human?



Eh, big human, little human, all smaller than orc.







> Q2. Are there (for Athan's sake I hope not) 1/2 Orcs? (aside: _daaaang - can any PC/NPCs stop drooling over Athan? I getting jealous!_)



There are, in fact, 1/2 orcs. They're a sterile crossbreed, but they're there (on the website, under Races, under Orcs). Athan's not in that much danger, though...







> Q3. Are slaves good eatin'?  Or stricktly workforce types.



Status symbols, manual labor, and dangerous labor. Orcs don't eat humanoids of any sort (even weird ones like kobolds).







> Q4. Did the captain make it?



Yeah. Captain Agina's pretty tough. At some point I need to post a summary of what happened after the PCs left with the orcs.


----------



## seasong

Delgar said:
			
		

> I myself am running a very hack and slash campaign at the moment (Sunless Citadel, Forge of Fury, etc.). Thanks to your Greecian theme, I'm also throwing around the idea of a Gladitorial campaign (I know it's Roman, but it's close).



Hmmm, I need to work some arenas and gladiators into the setting somewhere. Thanks for the reminder, my players are sure to love you for it .

Thank you for the generally kind words!


----------



## incognito

> A talk? About what? Will it be about orcs? I like orcs.




You're reminding me of that kid in 'A Chirstmas Story':



> ...We briefly meet Goggles (David Svoboda), a teethy little boy that looks like a girl who got stuck wearing the first reject from the Red Baron goggles line. He talks to a disinterested Ralph, saying things rather pathetically and annoyingly like "I like Santa" only to cry the second he "meets him."




remember him?

Anyway, keep up the good work!


----------



## snownoir

*Orcs*

*Sigh*

Mmmm, more Orc talk. Incognito, you're a bad influence on my GM.


----------



## incognito

*A Player!*

A Player, A Player!

Hello player, are you Greppa, Meredith or Athan?

and seasong: _ we need our update!_

say THAT in Orcish!


----------



## seasong

Hank is playing Greppa.

An update is being worked on, but work today is hectic, so I'm typing on it between chores. Not sure when it will be done.

As a teaser, though... it includes _another_ vignette about what happened at the battle front after the PCs left it, and covers most of the time spent in slavery.


----------



## seasong

This is something else that the PCs discovered later.

*Vignette: Amalan*

After the devastating Battle of Eastpass, the Bunahken orcs simply left. They had a great victory to celebrate, a veritable horde of new slaves to deal with, and they had lost enough people to the Theralese grinding machine that victory was no longer certain... and the valleys they already owned were enough for their present population.

A few warbands stuck around, of course, mostly those who had failed to get a good prize out of the assault, but this was more isolated raids than anything else. For the most part, the Bunahken disappeared back into the wilderness they'd come from, replaced by another tribe hoping for similar victory.

On the day of the final battle before leaving, however, they had unthinkingly chopped down a number of old pines. And while nature responds slowly to desecration, she responds with surety. Amalan eventually felt the call of the land, and sent a warband of his kobolds to silently investigate.

What they found was a sizable tribe of orcs, churned mud, and trees killed without care...

From the Theralis point of view, the orcs captured a huge chunk of the military, left, came back, and were then attacked by an unknown force in the forest. After a few hours of orcish yelling, and swinging spears wildly amidst the deeper trees, the orcs began running east.

As the last few orcs cleared the eastern mountain ridge, moving into a valley distant to Theralis thinking, Amalan the Dragon was seen to gently drift down from the sky into that valley.

What happened after that is unknown, but whatever happened, the orcs were not seen again.


----------



## seasong

Note: When the word slave is mentioned, most people envision the American South prior to the Civil War, a rare period of particularly inhuman subjugation. Slavery has never been kind, but many periods based on a slave economy were still not quite that bad.

Among orcs, a slave is simply a capture of war, owned by a particular person, but still an individual of their own. The orc owner has a duty to feed and clothe the slave, to ensure its good behavior towards others, and to make sure that when the orcs roam, the slave manages to march as well.

Slaves are also protected by the same laws regarding brutality and murder as the orcs themselves follow, but are exempt from the shame of turning down a duel.

Brutality: Beatings are an accepted method of behavior alteration between a parent and child or owner and slave, but certain rules specify exactly what a beating should consist of. For rude behavior, a hard cuff or sprawling shove; for violating personal space, a maximum of two punches or one hit with the butt of a spear; for flagrant violation of protocols, being held down while the insulted party enacts a maximum of three punches or one hit with the butt of a spear (don't insult too many people!). For breaking of certain laws (such as slaves not conspiring to escape), the violator is tied up, and then kicked in a circle around a ring, the size of the ring determined by the severity of the crime.

Murder: Warfare and dueling are the only sanctioned forms of killing someone. All else is murder. Murder by accident or self-defense is handled with a beating ring (see brutality, above). Planned murder is handled by banishment, which is where the injured parties (friends of the murdered) stand in a line and are allowed to strike the murderer with fist or foot as he runs past them. They are not allowed to stray from their position, so once he's past, he's past.

*Slavery*

Athan, Greppa and Merideth were brought together along with one other human, a tough-looking, older woman who called herself Kestra. Kestra spoke the Theralis and orc tongues, and acted as a translator for the shamaness who had 'bought' them.

Over the course of a week, they quickly realized that escape was very near hopeless, and Merideth's tales of Thera's own leading of the slaves to victory was unfortunately lax on the details of _how_ this was done.

The orcs simply lived too remotely.

They pitched tents all over the sides of the valleys, and hunted silently among the shadowed woods. And they kept a reasonably good perimeter - a slave might conceivably bluff their way _near_ that edge, but all slaves were to stay in a careful radius of the center of the orc territory. And during tribal movements, slaves were tied together with knots devised by generations of orc cunning.

And even if they did escape, none of the three knew where to go. Never having been outside of their village areas, and certainly not outside of the Theralis valleys, they only had the vaguest idea of a proper direction.

The shamaness had moved into a mountain cave, hides stacked in one corner, an ancestral fire in the center, her charms scattered throughout. She was friendly enough. She primarily expected them to do light physical labor so she could meditate or laze about (it was hard to tell which was which), and to master the proper obeisances so that others would know she owned them.

Athan, of course, was her show off prize, particularly given his cost. She paraded him around whenever possible, and often had him carry things (such as her cauldron) that a strong orc would have winced at, just to show that he could.

Merideth and Athan, she required to learn orc, although they were mystified as to why, and they spent many hours in the company of the dour Kestra.

-----

A month into their slavery, Merideth had plunged into a depression, Athan was acclimating to being a Ken Doll, and Greppa was realizing what the shamaness wanted.

In halting orc, he approached her, "Olgah, I speak with you, stuff."

"Yes, little slave?"

"You teach Bone-Ache ways, to learn my ways?"

Olgah beamed at him - he wasn't female, but he had cunning in his bones, "Yes, little slave. I seek to learn the ways of your magic."

After struggling through the torturous orc sentence, Greppa nodded, then, "I not teach in orc. I teach in _arcana_. You learn?"

Olgah thought for a moment, and Greppa (having learned the lesson of her thinking temper, stayed quiet), then looked at him carefully. "You can not teach in orc?" At his nod, "Then I will learn in _urkahneh_."

Greppa, still feeling his way through orc culture, stated as carefully as he could, "Then I no use of you?"

She blinked, then parsed his meaning, "Hah! You are too small, but you would make a fine orc! Do not worry, little slave. I do not forget a fine gift!"

Greppa, not sure if he'd gotten a concession at all, also wasn't sure he wanted to break her suddenly good mood.

Over the months, Greppa began teaching Olgah the basics of arcanist magic. It was rough going, but Olgah turned out to have a grasp of magic similar to his own, and he quickly saw why she was the Bunahken shaman - there was no other role for an immensely intelligent person who was not strong enough to be a war drummer, and not vicious enough to be a leader.

While he taught her, Athan and Merideth were getting into trouble.


----------



## seasong

*Slavery, pt II*

Merideth was depressed. And angry. She knew that others had escaped the orcs. That Thera had, in fact, led a slave revolt. But the other slaves were not interested, and everytime an orc caught her plotting with the others, she was beaten.

They weren't even angry when they did it, which made it worse. Sometimes they'd even say complimentary things about her spirit... and then patiently explain to her that they have to beat her, because they can't afford to have her succeed.

Athan finally spoke with her, quietly, while orcs were sleeping.

"Merideth, we will get out of here, but not if you die of beatings and exposure before we can. If you don't survive, you won't escape."

Merideth glared at Athan, "You're a fine one to talk. You're the prize hen."

"Yes, and I'm playing along. Brainless Uthehn, the shaman's pretty. And while they're dismissing me from their minds, I'm watching, carefully."

"I can't, Athan. I can't _play_ that game. I can't just give in. Maybe Greppa can, or you can, but I _can't_."

Athan sighed, "So you want the orcs to win?"

Merideth said nothing.

Athan pressed on, "Right now, the choice is simple: we play along or we die. If we play along, we buy some time to create more choices. If we die, that's it, the orcs won."

Merideth said nothing.

Athan continued, "Another thing to remember - there's about two or three thousand of us, and less than half that many orcs. They're bigger and tougher than we are, and they've scattered us apart, but there's still that many of us. But until we can work out some way to organize _without_ getting you beat senseless every other night, we have to wait."

Merideth, too loudly, yells, "And how long do we wait!? What do we do in the mean time!? If we don't talk, we'll never get a chance to!"

Their conversation was interrupted by orcs, and Merideth, eyes full of accusations, was carried off to the beating ring.

_Note: All three of the PCs took a beating or three over the course of their time as slaves, mostly cuffs, a few punches while held down, that sort of thing... but no one managed to be as continuously provocative as Merideth. Other than the beatings, she was never touched (she was the Shaman's slave, after all), but her essential words were: Never give in, never give up, take the beatings, and come back for more._


----------



## snownoir

That's because no one could convince "Merideth Wannabe Warrior Princess" the value of being sneaky. "I shoulda told her Thera wouldn't have been nearly as pig headed." That would have calmed her down...or make her punch me.


----------



## seasong

Athan's getting into trouble may have to wait. Work is too busy again .


----------



## seasong

*Slavery, pt III*

Athan talked a good talk, but when the chips came down, he was as angry as anyone else. The day had started as most slave days did, until he saw a young boy in the beating circle.

The orc doing it was Gach, who had captured Athan so many months ago. Athan had since learned to avoid him, as he seemed to feel that the shaman's debt was also Athan's debt, and lorded it over him where ever possible. Gach was very formality driven, and prone to feeling insulted.

Today, apparently, Gach intended to arrange to take a beating for the boy's accidental death, because he seemed to be trying to get the boy around the circle by the head.

Athan remained calm enough to remember the orc words he wanted to say, but not calm enough to not say them.

"YOU! ME! NOW!"

To Theralese ears, it sounds somewhat like grunting (Ur, Meh, Haa). To orcs, it was a throw down as old as time, the opening words to a duel.

There was silence.

Athan was called Uthehn (a 'chewing bull') among the orcs, and was generally not considered much of a threat, despite his strength. He seemed too simple minded, too pretty. But deep in the brains of the nearby orcs were faint memories of a different Athan, one that had hurled death over the tops of shields, and killed more orcs than Gach's entire warband.

To Gach, however, Athan was already beaten. He laughed, and stopped kicking the slave to face Athan. "You? Me? Now? Your accent is appalling. If you are twice as good at fighting as you are at speaking, I would be laughed at for bothering."

"I thought you prefer fights easy," Athan managed, pointing at the crumpled slave. Orcs around Gach laughed at that one, but Gach did not find it particularly humorous.

"Very well, slave, I who gifted you to the shaman will now..."

He was interrupted by the arrival of Olgah, who looked furious.

"What goes on here!? Uthehn, why are you challenging the one who gave you to me!? Are you that daft?"

Athan, forcefully, "I owe him nothing. If he kept me, he already dead."

More orcs had gathered, and a number of them cheered the two on. Olgah simply glared at them, yelling, "You wouldn't be laughing if it was your that!" and was greeted with laughter.

Common sense, meanwhile, seemed to have found Athan, if a bit late. He realized that the orcs were taking his challenge seriously - it had not occurred to him that the orcs would respect his challenge. This penetrated, primarily, because Gach had begun selecting a large knife about the length of Athan's forearm, and some of the orcs were drawing a circle on the mountainside with yellow pigments.

The circle was fifteen feet in diameter, just enough space to maneuver in. Gach stepped to the edge, tested his knife one last time, and stepped in. Athan considered, and, in a final rush of youthful testosterone, stepped into the circle.

Orcs began pounding their chests, making a soft imitation of the war drum thump. Gach cut a circle in the air, waiting for Athan to get a bit closer. Athan waited, hands out and ready, but did not immediately approach.

A moment. Two. Three.

Athan rushed in, and was stabbed deep in the forearm for his trouble. The blade sliced in, out, and was already arcing back for another cut when Athan slammed into the orc. Both went down, Gach landing on his back, and reversing his knife grip to stab inward.

Athan had no such option. He arranged himself to minimize where he could be stabbed, sank his teeth into the orc's neck and BIT.

Blood sprayed as Gach stabbed Athan in the shoulders and arm, and tried to roll him off. But the stabs became more feeble, and Athan continued to stay on top. Gach finally managed to knee Athan in the groin, but Athan knew what would happen if he let go. He kept his head at Gach's neck, trying to tear out the enemy's life.

Athan won.

And then he fainted from blood loss and shock.

The others were not allowed near him, particularly Merideth. He would heal or die on his own. In the end, he lived, but without her healing, he had a three point scar on his right shoulder, to match the birthmark on his left.


----------



## seasong

A few notes about that last one: the characters reached 3rd level during their enslavement, and Athan in particular had picked up Rage.

Under the hit point system I'm using, Rage gives an extra +8 HP, which is pretty darned impressive.

However, I don't allow damage to magically go away when the temporary hit points do, and Athan dropped to -2 when the rage wore off. Still, he healed, and I gave him a few scars to remember the experience by.


----------



## seasong

*Slavery, end notes*

In the end, Greppa finished tutoring Olgah by the next summer, and learned enough in the experience of teaching to master one of the more difficult spells he'd, ah, requisitioned from Hurath. Merideth managed to survive her own mulish pride, and gained some measure of respect for her uncompromising heart. Athan continued to be the pretty thing, but he got considerable respect from Gach's old warband.

At the end of it, Olgah gave Greppa a gift in return: his freedom, and the freedom of his two friends. She even arranged for a scout to take them within sight distance of the Theralis valleys.

Athan had matured somewhat over the long year. Aside from adding a few inches in height, he'd reached unsuspected depths of feeling in himself, and replaced the invincible armor of youth with a solid willingness to throw himself into danger for the good of others.

For Greppa, it was different. Being a slave was humiliating. And escaping through collusion with the enemy burned in Greppa's guts, but he mostly kept that to himself, and focused his considerable will on his now solid goal of being so powerful, so awe-inspiring an arcanist, that no one would ever be able to put him in a compromising situation again.

Merideth was, well, Merideth. She was suppressing a grin as they hiked up the last mountain to home - she was a bit disappointed in how things had turned out, but she had the rest of her life to be more heroic.

As they walked, they talked. Athan was more willing to give up his goals of being a soldier now, and Merideth had never lost her desire for it. Greppa agreed with her in principle (as part of the path to power), but wanted to check Hurath's tower to see if he had returned, first. Everyone came to agreement, and they were almost cheerful as they hiked into Theralis.

And in Hurath's tower, somewhere in the dimly lit interior, something stirred.


----------



## incognito

Coincidentally, Meredith is my ex-girlfriends name.

...and she would've acted the same way   She is very high spirited, which is both inspiring and irritating:

...so maybe...just maybe...I wish I was the orc giving the beatings 


How much time has elapsed since the inception of the slavery?

For Q's tomorrow!


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Coincidentally, Meredith is my ex-girlfriends name.
> 
> ...and she would've acted the same way   She is very high spirited, which is both inspiring and irritating:



Just something about that name... I actually built it as "merry death" -> meri deth -> merideth .







> ...so maybe...just maybe...I wish I was the orc giving the beatings



You know what? I'm not going to touch that one.







> How much time has elapsed since the inception of the slavery?



Eleven months.


----------



## seasong

So, a bit of a rambling post, because I have a few minutes...

Firstly, if you're reading this, thank you! I really hope you enjoy it.

Secondly, the story coming up is closer to a 'traditional dungeon crawl'. It is, as the foreshadowing indicates, Hurath's tower. That's the problem with arcanists - they tap things not of this world for their power.

A nostalgic moment: Greppa's player, long ago, was in another campaign of mine which had a similar initial structure - the PCs started out part of an army, fought well, were captured by the enemy, and sold off, before finally escaping. _That_ campaign, of course, was far, far grittier than this one. The enemies were humans, the PCs were drafted by a city they barely even knew existed, and their slavery was one of digging in unstable mining shafts. That was also the campaign wherein the enemy would swipe their shortswords through the latrines right before battle, so that wounding an enemy might still kill them... and there was no healing magic.

My players haven't let me run a really gritty campaign since .


----------



## incognito

> That was also the campaign wherein the enemy would swipe their shortswords through the latrines right before battle, so that wounding an enemy might still kill them... and there was no healing magic.




ewwww!  

Ok, more questions, as Promised

Q1.  Was th orc initiative just a plot device, that will now fade into the backgruond, or is this simply a lull in the war campaign? (most wars take several years, so I am still firmly in the 'behind th 4th wall' camp) - I thought you liked Orcs!

Q2.  Oh captain, my Captain!  What happened to Agina, dammit!

Q3. Can we get an interlude to the human city, to get an idea how the 11 months were passed?  Or would this be giving too much away?

Q4.  Is there ever a problem adjucating spotlight time in your game?  Seems like there is not (and this becomes an issue sometimes in my game, I have high ego players - dying to be 'munchy').  What are the mechanisms you use to ensure relatively balanced PC development..

Q5. Where are the magic items?  The PCs are third level, and we have yet to see a scroll read or a potion drunk!  You mentioned this is a low magic world - will there be a time when the PCs have a chance of owning something downright magical (flaming sword, crystal ball, carpet of flying)?

Q6.  You guessed it - there is no Q6 (heh)


----------



## snownoir

*Pah!!*

Pah! We can do gritty! Just not dirty!


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Q1.  Was th orc initiative just a plot device, that will now fade into the backgruond, or is this simply a lull in the war campaign? (most wars take several years, so I am still firmly in the 'behind th 4th wall' camp) - I thought you liked Orcs!



The PC's best guess at this point (that they've chosen to share with me) is that some large event to the east is forcing the tribes west. If true, the war is far from over.

However, the Bunahken are not likely to rejoin the fight for a bit. They've got slaves, a reduced population, a good valley that they're defending from the other orcs. And, of course, there's one tribe that the dragon got - the evidence indicates we will _not_ be hearing from them again.

And since summer is starting up again, the orcs will probably be by soon. In the meantime, the PCs will be getting into other kinds of trouble as a break from the war.







> Q2.  Oh captain, my Captain!  What happened to Agina, dammit!



Heh. Sorry, I'm just more motivated to write about the PCs. Here's the summary notes I have, without my usual florid prose, in case I don't get around to it:

Captain Agina calls for retreat. Line is routed, scattered. Three orcs close off escape for Agina's aides, banner drops and Agina draws sword, orcs die under spear (aides) and sword.

Agina (total attack +8) does a normal hit 67.5% of the time, does a crit 7.5% of the time, and does d8+5 damage. She does an average of 7.8 hp per round, against orc 24 hp. On a round that she kills an orc, she does an _additional_ 7.8 hp average, due to cleave. She kills one orc every 3 1/2 rounds without help.

Agina's aides are about half as good as she is, and there are two of them. An orc will die _almost_ every round against the three of them.

(some sketches of placement and no scanner, sorry)

Agina + aides kill the three orcs, continue calling people to her. More soldiers arrive, begin dedicated push up-mountain. Several shields join up, semi-circle is made.

Orcs largely irrelevant at this point - distance 400 feet, cover in 13 rounds, not likely to be stopped.

Agina is dropped about 18 hit points at center of fighting, lose about a hundred soldiers, would be more if unable to switch out front line of huddle.

_Summary of the Summary:_ They made it back, but they lost a lot of people. And Captain Agina and two level-2 aides can kill a CR 4 orc in one round. Chew on _that_, Athan.

Agina resets the line, calls together a meeting of captains. They discuss the ram problem. A few brainstorms, decide on a few contingencies.

Agina fights with overall leader of Eastpass force over 'damned stupid assault'.

Orcs start trickling out of the valley. Theralis military mystified. Captain Agina warns against following - reminds everyone about Hurath, as she suspects ambushes may be laid.

By end of day, most of the orcs are gone. A few scouts are sent down, they report that camps are removed.

That night, hear drums again. Scouts report orcs are returning.

Captain Agina suspects that when they weren't followed, they gave up on the ambush. She's wrong, of course - these are different orcs, they just all look alike.

_And then the incident with the dragon._


> Q3. Can we get an interlude to the human city, to get an idea how the 11 months were passed?  Or would this be giving too much away?



Roughly, Theralis is in bad shape. While the PCs were hanging out with orcs, Theralis was fighting off the hordes and then going through a very rough winter.

I don't know that saying more would 'give anything away', but the PCs don't know any more than that, so I'll just keep mum.







> Q4.  Is there ever a problem adjucating spotlight time in your game?  Seems like there is not (and this becomes an issue sometimes in my game, I have high ego players - dying to be 'munchy').  What are the mechanisms you use to ensure relatively balanced PC development..



That question deserves a treatise .

Seriously, I haven't been running this one long enough to answer that very well. The PCs are (as of this next 'scenario') only just now beginning to control their fate directly.

I may answer this later, or write that treatise .







> Q5. Where are the magic items?  The PCs are third level, and we have yet to see a scroll read or a potion drunk!  You mentioned this is a low magic world - will there be a time when the PCs have a chance of owning something downright magical (flaming sword, crystal ball, carpet of flying)?



I don't determine magic items by PC level, but by the production capabilities of society (and those of historical societies that may have left items lying around). Very few NPCs in Theralis are above 5th level, which severely restricts what kinds of magic are commonly available. A few examples of available stuff:

*Potions:* Potions are made by enchanters, who must take the Brew Potions feat and have decent Herbalism skill. All potions have material components required to make them, many of which are extremely difficult to acquire. A typical 4th level enchanter might have a half dozen different types of potions on hand, with a handful of each type, and they will all be expensive. The military maintains a sizable stock of potions - these were in use in Theralis during last year's battles. A potion is typically good for 1d10 years after it is made.

*Charms:* This is the other low-level enchanter item. Charms are minor enchantments that do small stuff (normally cantrips), or one-shot enchantments for slightly more powerful stuff (level 1-2 spells). Most are protective or buffing in nature. Event the cantrip level charms rarely last for more than a few months, however. _Note: I forgot to mention it, but the shamaness had a few one-shot Charm spell charms that she put on the PCs - the charms universally failed, however, so it didn't really matter._

*Craftsmanship:* Masters of a craft can eventually learn to bind a small amount of magic and themselves into their creations. The upshot of this is that certain magic items can be made by a crafter with sufficient skill (Craft Arms 9+ and a feat is needed to make a sword +1, for example). Captain Agina's sword was of this type, and the shields of the elite guard in the city itself are of this type.

In addition to the above, there are plenty of heirlooms amongst Theralis families, one active 9th level enchanter in the city, and some lost treasures of ancient civilizations scattered in the wilderness. Hurath, before he became a fuddy-duddy old mage, adventured for a year or two, and collected some loot that the PCs may stumble across in the tower.

However, this is not the end of the story. There are powerful things out in the world, and there are civilizations with higher production capabilities than Theralis. Eventually, assuming they survive, we may see Athan wielding a _flaming, returning spear of orc doom_, Greppa gripping a _staff of the magi_, and Merideth equipped top to bottom with buffing gear and a _vorpal sword_, all of them flying under Greppa's power and buffered against harm by Merideth's will, as they hurl _fireballs_, _mass inflicts_ and _great cleave_ into hordes of dying orcs.

But for right now, they've got nice shirts, solid sandals, and each other.


----------



## seasong

Just wanted to apologize for the lack of an update this weekend. I'll try to have something by Tuesday, particularly concerning Hurath's Tower .


----------



## Caliber

Its cool seasong. The story hour still rocks. 

So when you updating that website?


----------



## seasong

I've actually got a website update ready to go, I'm just doing some last minute edits, and then I have to get home to upload it (no FTP from work). The update includes a batch of finished feats (including some class abilities, an orc drumming feat, and metamagic), and the background stuff I've been posting to this group.


----------



## seasong

*Der Map*

I'm writing up the PC's entry into Hurath's Tower. In the meantime, I thought you might like a map. I used Excel to construct it (cell width 5, cell height 35, autoshapes), so it's not gorgeous, but it should give a reasonable idea of where things are.

The PCs were familiar with the map going in, they just didn't know anything lurked inside...

_edit: One square is 5 ft. Forgot to mention that._


----------



## seasong

_edit: I originally wrote this as a kind of blow-by-blow. On re-reading it, it didn't work so good. Chalk it up to a learning experience. I've included the original text (in fine print) at the end, for historical purposes. The rewrite is the canon version, however._

*Hurath's Tower*

After returning to Theralis and confirming that their term of Service was over (and that the orcs had disappeared back into the wilderness, seemingly not to return), the three young adventurers-to-be planned their next steps.

Greppa was insistent that they visit his former master's tower, to (a) check if Hurath had returned or might have something that could be used to track him, and (b) grab as many spell books as the diminutive _ellini_ could carry, so he could continue to study while adventuring. The others agreed, and they hiked a bit out of the city to the farms where the tower was.

Greppa checked with a few locals first, just to make sure they hadn't seen Hurath. They hadn't, but they seemed queasy about the tower in general, and muttered something about 'weirdling arcanists'. Greppa ignored their peasant superstitions, and the party marched on to the tower.

There was no smoke coming from the chimney.

-----

As soon as Greppa shifted the bolt back and opened the tower, he knew something was wrong. A faint scent of recently decayed meat wafted out, and the interior was almost completely dark. He swung the door open wider to let sun in, and Greppa's and Athan's eyes immediately fell upon the partially eaten sheep lying in the middle of the floor. A trail of cold, crusted blood from the door showed where it had been dragged.

Merideth's eyes didn't go to the sheep. They were attracted to eight red dots reflecting the outside light, glowing dimly beneath a table in the far left corner of the room. Silently, she pointed, and as Greppa and Athan spotted the eyes, it moved.

A man-sized spider, upside-down and mostly concealed beneath Hurath's thick oaken dining table, dropped to the floor and scurried across the room at the heroes.

Greppa responded the quickest, drawing an arcane circle and sigil, and practically shouting, "_uil gan pothos mar_!". The space in front of him seemed to _snap_ into place as a weak extradimensional shield came into existence between Greppa and the spider.

The spider smacked into the shield, as more spiders scurried or dropped out of shadowed doors, corners and walls. Greppa's shield caused some to miss, but the majority managed to bite the heroes, and the doorway became an instant battle zone between fat spiders ranging from baby- to full man-sized, and the three youths.

One twenty pound bundle of malice, in particular, had managed to land on Greppa's neck, and he freaked out, running screaming out of the tower and trying to shake it off. Merideth, calm and professional, focused healing energy into him as he ran past her, although she could do nothing about the poison in his veins.

Then another one dropped on her neck, and all professionalism was lost, as she began to focus her life energies more malevolently... green energy crackled from her fingers, as she _inflicted_ on the evil things.

Athan, meanwhile, was methodically killing spiders left and right, sweeping the business end of his spear through their organ-filled abdomens. Standing together, Athan and Merideth began killing.

Meanwhile, Greppa was trying everything short of setting himself on fire to get the baby-sized spider off his back. He evoked a candle-sized flame from the elemental plane of fire to scare the spider. It tried to bite his burning finger, and missed. He jumped around, trying to shake it off. It clung grimly on, and tried to bite, but missed. He tried to grab its fat, hairy body to fling it from himself. It tried to bite his hands, and missed.

It would have been amusing, if Greppa wasn't fighting for his life with a spider one fifth his mass.

Athan and Merideth, finished with the spiders at the door, finally ran up to him; Merideth knocked it off his back while Athan stabbed it. Greppa looked a bit embarrassed, but no one said anything.

Greppa and Merideth were both winded from spell casting, and Greppa was barely standing from the onslaught of the spiders' poisons. Athan had a few bites, but there was no swelling, and they looked fairly superficial.

They took a long look at the tower door, and the deep shadows within. "We're going to need torches," Greppa stated flatly.



> *And now... the original text.*
> After returning to Theralis and confirming that their term of Service was over (and that the orcs had disappeared back into the wilderness, seemingly not to return), the three young adventurers-to-be planned their next steps.
> 
> Greppa was insistent that they visit his former master's tower, to (a) check if Hurath had returned or might have something that could be used to track him, and (b) grab as many spell books as the diminutive _ellini_ could carry, so he could continue to study while adventuring. The others agreed, and they hiked a bit out of the city to the farms where the tower was.
> 
> Greppa checked with a few locals first, just to make sure they hadn't seen Hurath. They hadn't, but they seemed queasy about the tower in general, and muttered something about 'weirdling arcanists'. Greppa ignored their peasant superstitions, and the party marched on to the tower.
> 
> There was no smoke coming from the chimney.
> 
> -----
> 
> As soon as Greppa shifted the bolt back and opened the tower, he knew something was wrong. A faint scent of recently decayed meat wafted out, and the interior was almost completely dark. He swung the door open wider to let sun in, and Greppa's and Athan's eyes immediately fell upon the partially eaten sheep lying in the middle of the floor. A trail of cold, crusted blood from the door showed where it had been dragged.
> 
> Merideth's eyes didn't go to the sheep. They were attracted to eight red dots reflecting the outside light, glowing dimly beneath a table in the far left corner of the room. Silently, she pointed, and as Greppa and Athan spotted the eyes, it moved.
> 
> A man-sized spider, upside-down and mostly concealed beneath Hurath's thick oaken dining table, dropped to the floor and scurried across the room at the heroes.
> 
> Greppa responded the quickest, drawing an arcane circle and sigil, and practically shouting, "_uil gan pothos mar_!". The space in front of him seemed to _snap_ into place as a weak extradimensional shield came into existence between Greppa and the spider.
> 
> The spider smacked into the shield, as two smaller, twenty-pound spiders dropped from just above the door jamb onto Greppa and Athan's necks, biting and clinging. Athan grunted, but seemed unaffected; Greppa's limbs began to tingle and weaken, but he managed to remain standing.
> 
> Meanwhile, more spiders were pouring into the room. Two more man-sized spiders, one from the laboratory and one from the darkened ceiling, attacked. The lab spider bit Greppa (weakening him further) and the ceiling spider missed Merideth by a hair, dropping on the ground next to her and hissing ferociously. And a pair of the 20 pound spiders ran out of the toilet room, but did not get close enough to bite anyone immediately. Greppa was
> 
> Athan, only slightly freaked out, grabbed the spider on his neck and flung it across the room, snapping its thorax as he did so. Unfortunately, it survived the whipping motion, and caught itself handily on the wall.
> 
> Merideth, calmly and professionally focused her energies and healed Greppa of the vicious bite wounds, although she could do nothing about the poison.
> 
> Greppa, a lot freaked out, ran from the tower, flailing and trying to get the baby-sized spider off his back. It ran beneath his clothes, attempting to keep away from his flailing arms, and began attempting to bite him again, but was unable to keep still long enough with all of his jumping and dancing.
> 
> The small spider that Athan had flung retreated into the laboratory. The other two small spiders attempted to bite Athan, but failed to get his flesh. The man-sized spider from beneath the table also failed to bite Athan, as he swept his spear about to keep them at bay, and looked for a good shot.
> 
> The ceiling spider finally bit Merideth, gaining her immediate attention. No poison was injected, but her professional demeanor began to crack.
> 
> And the man-sized laboratory spider failed to bite anything, as it tripped over its comrades.
> 
> A dozen seconds had passed, and the spiders were rapidly losing the advantage of surprise.
> 
> Athan and Merideth stood together, and began killing. Athan stabbed the laboratory spider, beheading and flinging it across the room in a single blow, and Merideth used her healing energies to attack the life energies of the spider that bit her. Green lightning crawled into its body from her touch, but did not quite kill it. Then Athan pierced the body of the dinner table spider, killing it, and managed to sweep the point of his spear across Merideth's spider, right before she attacked it again with violent, roiling life energies, killing it. The smaller spiders fled.
> 
> Meanwhile, Greppa was trying everything short of setting himself on fire to get the baby-sized spider off his back. He evoked a candle-sized flame from the elemental plane of fire to scare the spider. It tried to bite his burning finger, and missed. He jumped around, trying to shake it off. It clung grimly on, and tried to bite, but missed. He tried to grab its fat, hairy body to fling it from himself. It tried to bite his hands, and missed.
> 
> Athan and Merideth finally ran up to him and Merideth knocked it off his back while Athan stabbed it. Greppa looked a bit embarrassed, but no one said anything.
> 
> The party looked at the tower. Greppa and Merideth were winded, and Greppa was barely standing from the onslaught of the spiders' poisons. Athan had a few bites, but there was no swelling, and they looked fairly superficial.
> 
> "We're going to need torches," Greppa stated flatly.


----------



## Caliber

They have to pass through the Summoning Room to get to the Libary. I love it!


----------



## seasong

He he he! The players wanted to avoid that room so badly it hurt...

A few things the players told me I have to post:

1. I maintained a very strong front of "Killer DM" on the surface for this adventure. I wanted the players to know that the spiders were _really and honestly_ trying to kill them. I cussed Athan's lucky dice, laughed when someone got bitten, and gave my best 'curses, foiled again' when someone would make their poison Fort save. It was great fun although, of course, I knew that the PCs would be little killing machines once I wound them up.

2. Greppa's player is phobic about spiders. When I update the 'With Torches' part, tomorrow, you'll see why that's a bad thing.

Also, purely on my own: The players get their first treasure! Well, that is, it's not much, but they got it.


----------



## incognito

seasong!

Another fine update.  this time, though, I worry that you want to give us the round by round of how the comabt went, rather than give us the feel of how the fight went.

If you omit stuff like "The spider attacked X times, and missed X times, you could go with the more general "The smaller spiders swarmed over the young aventurers aggresively, their poisioned fangs filing to find purchase..."

It's a fine line to walk, because of course the readers want to know what spells were cast, etc. So, I like to focus on pivotal points of the battle, and leave the rest to the readers imagination.  

And you're a naaasty DM! 5 spiders are unnerving for unarmored, lightly armed PCs. (granted the small ones are CR 1/2, and the large ones are CR 1)

Hey speaking of, how hard _ARE_ our heroes to hit?

Congrats to Greppa, for superior role-play!  My players never freak out, and barely acknowledge when they have been charmed, or suggested to do something.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Another fine update.  this time, though, I worry that you want to give us the round by round of how the comabt went, rather than give us the feel of how the fight went.



Good point! Although I think it was okay for this time, at least partly because it was their first fight as a party, instead of as a part of a massive fight scene.

The next one will be very slightly less round-by-round .

And thanks for the quick critique!







> And you're a naaasty DM! 5 spiders are unnerving for unarmored, lightly armed PCs. (granted the small ones are CR 1/2, and the large ones are CR 1)



Naw, this was just to blood them. In round two, 'With Torches', the spiders put up a much better fight.







> Hey speaking of, how hard _ARE_ our heroes to hit?



I don't have the sheets in front of me, but I think it's:
Athan AC 15
Greppa AC 13
Merideth AC 11

The spiders had +3 to +4 to attack, but generally rolled very poorly.







> Congrats to Greppa, for superior role-play!  My players never freak out, and barely acknowledge when they have been charmed, or suggested to do something.



I love my players. Can't say much more than that.


----------



## incognito

> I love my players. Can't say much more than that.




...good thing they aren't orcs!


----------



## seasong

Oh, you're a funny, funny man .


----------



## snownoir

A game consisting of an orc party would be cool though.


----------



## seasong

Okay, so I read over it again, and the round-by-round really doesn't work. Incognito, thanks again for point that out . I rewrote the last update for clarity and grace. I don't think it lost anything but the unnecessary detail (and just in case, I kept the round-by-round in small print).

Anyway, off I go to write up the second round.


----------



## seasong

*Hurath's Tower... With Torches*

Acquiring torches was easy. The decision to re-enter the tower was not. For possibly the eighth time, and looking queasily at the closed tower door, Merideth asked, "Greppa, are you sure you're okay with this so soon? I mean, you're still weak from the poison..."

Greppa nodded, a grim look on his face, "Those spiders were organized. If we give them time, it will be even harder next time. And I _need_ those books."

No one mentioned that the likelihood of finding Hurath waiting for them was practically nil now.

They gripped their torches, and Athan kicked in the door.

Quickly and efficiently, they fanned through the room, poking the torches into every nook and cranny, sweeping the door jamb, the tables, the ceiling, everything. Nothing stirred, until Merideth pointed at the hearth flue, where a semi-circle of red dots winked out just as everyone looked.

Greppa stuck his torch in the hole, but there was nothing there. Worse, the plate was down, and locked. "I think the spiders know how to work the lock." The others just grimaced.

Quickly, a plan was settled. The doors to the bath and toilet were blocked with furniture. The lock on the flue was busted and jammed with firewood.

Then Athan went to the lab, and kicked in the door.

Silence.

Merideth stepped through first, sweeping the door frame with her torch, followed closely by Athan and Greppa. The room was filled with tables, lab equipment, and (except for sputtering torches) darkness.

They cautiously stepped in and began sweeping under the tables, when Greppa's keen ears caught a whisper of motion, and his eyes, rapidly adjusting to the deeper darkness, spotted a dozen or so spiders the size of two fists... and another spider, man-sized, back in the room they had just left. This one looked considerably different from the others - where they were brown-furred and black-striped, this one had skin of smoothest black leather. It's eyes glowed dimly, and a strange, red rune marked its abdomen.

Greppa just managed to yell and point at it as reddish strands filled the room, blocking sight and movement... and trapping Merideth completely in a particularly dense grouping.

On cue, the dozen or so spiders hiding in the corners of the room began running along and through the thick webbing, swarming over the trapped youths. And unfortunately, the webbing didn't burn at the touch of the torches.

Many spiders create beautiful webs, hoping for an inobservant creature to stumble into it. Others actively hunt, leaping out or dropping from high places, hoping for a slow-moving creature to wander by.

And some lay tangled traps in dark lairs, and even the most observant and swift of creatures can fall prey.

_to be continued..._


----------



## Talix

Yikes!  Scary... - being slightly phobic of spiders myself, I can imagine just how Greppa is feeling now! 

Needless to say, great story, I'm enjoying reading it.    I like your homebrew rules and magic, and I look forward to seeing how the advancement system is going to work out.  The extra info posts would normally bore me to tears, but you write them with enough flavor that they are just as fun to read as the action posts!  Thanks.


----------



## seasong

Hi Talix, welcome to our story .

The advancement system is working out fairly well so far. The class points thing takes more out-of-game time to level, but so far this hasn't been a problem.

I'm glad you're not too bored with the info posts, since I'll be putting up another one sometime today on spiders.


----------



## incognito

*Crikey!*

Whoa!  This update was excellelent - and even had a cliff hanger (bling, bling!)



> Many spiders create beautiful webs, hoping for an inobservant creature to stumble into it. Others actively hunt, leaping out or dropping from high places, hoping for a slow-moving creature to wander by.




Heh, and some are malevolently intelligent, and find _elleni_ tasty with a side of fava beans...

Seasong: that's for taking my constructive critisism in the spirit it was intended.  Too often I feel my own pride gets hurt when someone makes a suggestion to me. Of course, it helps that you know I have mucho respect for your writing.

can't_wait_for__MAGIC__item_revelation.


----------



## seasong

*Re: Crikey!*



			
				incognito said:
			
		

> Seasong: that's for taking my constructive critisism in the spirit it was intended.  Too often I feel my own pride gets hurt when someone makes a suggestion to me. Of course, it helps that you know I have mucho respect for your writing.



Well, thank you for the constructive criticism!

In running a campaign, descriptive combat is one of my strengths, but in writing, I'm still very inexperienced at it. So I can use all the help I can get.







> can't_wait_for__MAGIC__item_revelation.



I can't guarantee that you'll be impressed. Hurath took most of his _good_ stuff when he went to war.

That, and I'm a stingy, stingy bastard.


----------



## snownoir

Stingy is fine, as long as those spell books don't turn out to be the fantasy equivalent of Martha Stewart's greatest hits.


----------



## seasong

The following information can be found in Hurath's library, in his theology section. Had Greppa paid attention to a smidgen more of the non-spell-casting lessons (that is, taken some non-spell knowledge skills), he might not have so bravely entered a tower infested by organized spiders.

_A system note: these use the *monstrous spider* creature, with a few custom modifications for the *hell hunter*._

*Monsters: Spiders*

Long, long ago, the present day gods killed or banished the elder gods who ruled the world. One of those was Hhsethmah, God of Spiders, and as his blood fell down upon the earth, the droplets grew skin, fur, legs, and became what is known today as the _monstrous spider_.

Spiders had existed prior to that, of course, and Hhsethmah was responsible for their existence, but these spiders were born of his rage and betrayal, and possessed some spark of his divine will and malevolence towards the human gods who dispossessed him. They grew immense, and were to spiders as the titans were to humans.

Over time, however, the spiders lost their lust for manflesh, and their hearts chilled with the gradual reduction in primal energy in the world. The children's children's children of the original spiders are mere creatures, lacking intelligence or direction, and they mimic their smaller cousins in behavior, living only for the hunt, hunting only to live.

*Hell Hunter*

Some of those droplets of blood did not fall to earth, but to the infernal realms where Hhsethmah was cast. These became the _hell hunter_, a malevolent and intelligent cousin to the monstrous spiders of the corporeal world. Black as pitch and with eyes glowing with hellfire, the hell hunter is crafty and evil, hating all that is humanity.

Fortunately, they are all trapped in the infernal realms.

*Really Big Spiders*

The largest spiders known to have been encountered in the modern world ranged in size from 90 to 120 pounds, and generally stood at knee height. The older legends tell of spiders the size of houses or larger, however, and tales persist among worshippers of Atmos of titanic spiders who survive from those ancient ages, slipping silently through the deepest, tallest forests, killing anything humanoid that passes through their domain.


----------



## Caliber

I love the little notes that come with your posts. Maybe its just because I like to get my hands dirty and DM from time to time or maybe I am just weird, but I really get off on stuff like that.

The whole monstrous spider thing is pretty wicked. It doesn't take 10 ranks in Knowledge : Big Honkin' Spiders to figure out the black one with the red rune is a Hell Hunter.

Somethings rotten in this here Tower.


----------



## seasong

I can't sleep, so I played with Corel a bit to make this.

Attached is the red rune on the spider's back. It's not exactly gorgeous or deep or compelling, but whadaya expect from some hack 'god of spiders' who got tossed in the abyss eons ago?

As a side note: this little adventure is not necessarily tied to any greater plot. After all, that god is stuck in the Theralis equivalent to the abyss. And this particular hell hunter's just a wee tot, barely a even a hundred pounds of malevolent, infernal spider.


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> I love the little notes that come with your posts. Maybe its just because I like to get my hands dirty and DM from time to time or maybe I am just weird, but I really get off on stuff like that.



Thanks . And _*I*_ don't think you're weird.







> The whole monstrous spider thing is pretty wicked. It doesn't take 10 ranks in Knowledge : Big Honkin' Spiders to figure out the black one with the red rune is a Hell Hunter.



Heh. The players didn't have 1 rank of knowledge between them, however. The above is what they found out later, when they were figuring out what happened in the tower.







> Somethings rotten in this here Tower.



It's just a bit ripe. Like, you know, _extra_ ripe.


----------



## seasong

*Hurath's Tower... Final*

Merideth struggled in vain among the thick, reddish strands as fist-sized spiders swarmed over her. Athan and Greppa, having managed to avoid getting completely stuck, were nonetheless trapped as the spiders jumped on them. And the spider began spitting some kind of paralytic, thin webbing at Greppa (he ignored it).

And then Merideth got all angry and still. Green lightning began flashing from her fingers, and slowly but surely, one spider after another quivered and died under her hostile life spells.

Greppa and Athan, perhaps taking heart from her example, swung into action.

Greppa summoned a _shadow servant_ and instructed it to pull spiders off of him. Then he tried his only new spell, _shadow strands_, to turn the tables on the spider... And then he focused on Hurath's conjuring plate, on one of the laboratory tables. Sure enough, there was a puckered hole, dimly red on the other side, floating in the air above the platter.

While the others fought, he sent a _lesser shadow killer_ to smash the plate... and the got down to the business of shoving as many _lesser shadow killers_ down the big spider's throat as he could before he went down. 

Athan, shouting incoherently (in orcish?), swelled with primal fury and shoved his way through webs he could not have otherwise broken. Ignoring the spiders climbing on his flesh, he went, spear in hand, for their leather-skinned master.

Suddenly far more on the defensive than it intended, the rune-marked spider faded into the web's shadows around it, neatly circumventing Greppa's _strands_. Athan howled and looked around, spotted it, chased it...

Until it finally appeared next to Greppa, and Athan, desparately, hurled his spear through the webbing and impaled it to the table next to Greppa, preventing its further escape.

The black spider died shortly thereafter, and its infernal, heat-resistant webbing dissolved into a sticky, but harmless, mass with its death.

The three grinned at each other.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent cleaning out the tower. The library was particularly tricky, due to all of the cramped shelving and Greppa's unwillingness to use torches near the precious books and unbound scrolls, but they triumphed. Brown-furred spiders of all sizes were systematically cornered and killed.

Afterwards, Greppa spent some time in the library, reading about the infernal realms, summoning spells, and _hell hunters_. 

From Hurath's Journal...
"_Test 3: My observations from last week were very profitable, and the *infernal fire* spell is working like a charm. I have opened a more or less permanent eyehole into the *other's* workshop, and I am certain he does not suspect it's presence, as it is at floor level, about the level of a mousehole, and I keep it closed whenever I am away._"

They checked Hurath's study, particularly the desk, and Greppa grabbed two useful looking potions, both resembling milk of magnesia, but forbid Athan and Merideth to take anything else. And despite Merideth's covert glances, she didn't cut off the big spider's rune-marked leather.

"We don't know that Hurath's really gone. I'll just clean the place up a bit, make sure there's no other nasty surprises waiting to develop, and then we'll go."

Greppa also took some of Hurath's hidden money, and left an IOU for the money and potions. And after that, there was little left to do but plan for their first foray into adventuring.


----------



## seasong

A few notes: They did have one other thing to do... about four days of rest to get the poison out of their systems. And Merideth took some time to explain to the locals that spiders had moved in to the tower and were the ones eating the farm animals... although she neglected to mention Hurath's part in that.

As far as treasure went, Greppa was surprisingly non-greedy, and since it was 'his call', Athan and Merideth went along with it.


----------



## seasong

Heh heh. As of the last narrative update, I'm caught up with the last session (last weekend we just did the return to Theralis, Hurath's Tower and some discussion), so I'm posting the dream they'll have _this_ weekend here, for all to see, so the players have a day or two to mull it over before they have to make any hard decisions.

*Dreaming*

The dream is a vision of an old and gnarled tree, filled with collapsed knots, whorls, and twists. Lying nearby is a polished wooden sphere, perhaps a foot in diameter, chained to a boulder. Both tree and ball are cramped into a tiny niche between and behind boulders; beyond the boulders, the river can just barely be seen.

As the dreamers absorb the scene, a gentle, femminine voice sings from somewhere above.

_In a canyon long and deep,
Where the river lays in sleep,
A tiny path unseen by most,
Hides the sun by shadowed host.

Halfway down, a third back up,
There is a tree, a ball, a cup,
Knock three times and fit it right,
A door will open, let in light._

Sunlight washes over the area, and the timbre of the voice deepens,

_Once defeated, twice as foul,
Beware the scurry, crawl and cowl,
Aught you find is yours to keep,
But bring the *stone* to Allas' keep!_

And with that, a vision of a large, smooth white stone, engraved with the symbol of Allas. It looks warm and inviting to touch.

The dreamers awaken, and notice daylight for a brief moment before night settles back in to wait for morning.


----------



## seasong

*Riddles*

Allas is a sun goddess who also holds portfolios of knowledge, inspiration and prophecy. However, while she _sees_ straight to the heart of truth, she generally takes a circuitous route to providing it. Theologists generally ascribe to the theory that her torturous prophecies, riddle-encrypted knowledge and almost playful hints are the means by which she makes certain that individuals deserve her gifts - indeed, mortals should thank her for not simply holding their hands and requiring that they improve and learn in life.

_Of course, since none of my players are riddle fiends, I won't be doing this sort of thing very often, and I won't be making it terribly difficult. But it's a nice addition to the background._


----------



## incognito

It's so very clear to me they are seeing the _Tree of Knowledge_ and will soon be on a quest for the _*Magic Ring of Irony!*_

_although it's ironic that mispelled my owned damned ingredient..again_


----------



## seasong

...Where they will meet a sad 1/2 orc and defeat a vile succubus, only to fall prey to raging pudding and dove rangers.

Heh. Heh heh. Ahem. Excuse me, something in my throat.


----------



## incognito

Not to Hijack, but my own players are about to meet that self same Dove-Ranger in th realm of the Faerie.

They seek the Tree of Knowledge for it's fruit, which will expell mortal man from the realm of the faerie, a la Adam and the garden of Eden (thematically).

They will also face a horrifying Awakened Monk-Octopus (yeah baby!)

end hijack - unless you want me to emial you stat blocks for vermin crabs, dove rangers, and monk octupai (<-sp?)


Session comment: I love that rune - perhaps there are other runes you can give a feebleminded DM such as myself?


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> end hijack - unless you want me to emial you stat blocks for vermin crabs, dove rangers, and monk octupai (<-sp?)



Well, firstly, sure, e-mail me that stuff. I'd like to see how the dove went, in particular, after the grief I got for mine .

And it's octopi in my neck of the woods, octopuses in some areas, and octopese for a few grecian diehards, but I don't think I've ever seen octopai. Although, honestly, it's Awakened and its own species - it can conjugate itself however it wants.

Agh, I've been hi-jacked!

Quick, feed me some questions about the setting or campaign!


----------



## seasong

Ask, and I shall receive... before I even ask, apparently.

Runes: I'm glad you like it! I usually just steal liberally from human history, but for this one I wanted something a bit alien, angular, harsh... and a bit creepy. I also wanted it to use chisel points for the whole design, so I built it with narrow triangles. The red coloration was so that when I initially described it to the players, their first image would be of a black widow.


----------



## incognito

ok, ok: setting questions:

Q1. How come Hurath didn't _arcane lock_ his door?

Q2. We moved by the release from military service in the story rapidly; was this roleplayed out?  I though that the good Captain would want to quesiton our heroes closely...

Q2a. If it was played out, can you post it?

Q3. Rules Q - I was on the website, and err - Looks like you can puruchase AC on the cheap - is there a CAP for how much you can buy?  Cause eventually, I'd take 5 points of AC and walk around unhitable...

Q4.  Meridith seems to have become quite effective in her inflicting ability, is this the result of being able to make her saves more consistently now that she is L3?

Q5. About these kobolds/Dragon.  What is ther typical interaction with the Orc contingent, typically. Live and let live?  If the Orcs get 186'd for cutting down some trees, how do the humans go about foresting?

Q6. Can you guess?

and I'll be sure to email you my stuff "soon"


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Q1. How come Hurath didn't _arcane lock_ his door?



Didn't have the spell. Although if he had, Greppa would have known the password.







> Q2. We moved by the release from military service in the story rapidly; was this roleplayed out?  I though that the good Captain would want to quesiton our heroes closely...
> 
> Q2a. If it was played out, can you post it?



Heh. Actually, the players rather neatly avoided the whole question. They reported in to a different military post, were let go, and went. That may come back and haunt them later.







> Q3. Rules Q - I was on the website, and err - Looks like you can puruchase AC on the cheap - is there a CAP for how much you can buy?  Cause eventually, I'd take 5 points of AC and walk around unhitable...



AC should be priced at 3 points per, the same as BAB. The limit is equal to your level, _total_, so right now, AC +3 is the maximum.

As for being unhittable... well, yeah, sort of. Athan is doing this, slowly but surely, but his enemies will be doing the same, and buffing their BAB the same way he does, so it all works out in the end.







> Q4.  Meridith seems to have become quite effective in her inflicting ability, is this the result of being able to make her saves more consistently now that she is L3?



Basically, yeah. She and Greppa had an epiphany when they realized that WIS bonuses weren't going to be good enough all by themselves, and started buying up their Will saves this level (they pretty much ignored saves 1st and 2nd level). By about 4th level, they should be where they want to be in terms of WIS + Will Save.







> Q5. About these kobolds/Dragon.  What is ther typical interaction with the Orc contingent, typically. Live and let live?  If the Orcs get 186'd for cutting down some trees, how do the humans go about foresting?



Part of it is which trees where cut. Almost everything _in_ the Theralis valleys has been gifted to civilization, to use in whatever manner is necessary to best serve the civilization. Thera arranged this with the dragon, and while there are limits (such as potability of the water, and any kind of deep mining), for the most part, cutting down trees is fine.

The orcs cut trees _outside_ the Theralis valleys, which was their first mistake. Their second was picking the biggest, most impressive (and thus oldest) trees they could find, to make as big and heavy a ram as they could.

Typically, orcs aren't desperate enough to disrespect the wilderness, but the humans were really making burger de orc out of them. Also, you'll notice that the perpetrators left the area shortly after that.

That may come back to haunt them, though .

Rest assured, I'm keeping track of Olgah, the Bunahken tribe, Captain Agina...


----------



## Delgar

Just catching up on all the tower action. I have nothing more intellegent to say other than keep up the good work. I'm enjoying reading your story hour immensely. It's making me want to flesh out my own campaign world! Of course who has the time.

Keep up the good work!

Delgar


----------



## seasong

*Delgar:* I've made a number of posts in other Story Hours that were _awe-inspiring_ in their lack of anything intelligent to add . I'm just glad you're enjoying it!

*Incognito-san:* Got the e-mailed critters. Sweet . That dove is one bad mu/Shut Yo Mouth/I'm just talkin' bout the dove/Well all right then.

No more narrative updates until I run the next session with the players, but I will be posting some setting stuff and answering questions during the few days before the next narrative update.


----------



## seasong

*Economic Considerations*

Theralis is intended to be a semi-plausible economy, and as such, violates many D&D precepts. The following rules-of-thumb are generally in use...

*Coins In General*

Theralese coins are square, with a round hole in the middle. They are usually seen in a marketplace stacked on narrow iron spikes behind or beside the merchant (and usually placed to be difficult to simply grab).

Many people use a 'coin belt' to keep their coins safe. This is, essentially, a leather strap which the coins are threaded on to, with a clever buckle array which allows you to pull coins off the thread, one at a time, without untying anything. A coin belt typically costs 5-10 chalk, depending on its quality.

*Chalk*

A _chalk_ is a thin copper coin. It fluctuates somewhat, but is usually worth a single loaf of bread in winter, or 2-3 loaves during the summer trade months. With the recent war having badly damaged the bread supply, a single loaf is currently selling for 3 chalk, an almost unheard of inflation.

A glass of good wine costs about 3-10 chalk, but something close to vinegar can be had for 1 chalk. Homebrewed beer is worth about 1 chalk per mug, but the only good beers are imports, and cost 2-5 chalk per mug.

A typical military 'outfit' costs as follows:
knee-length tunic: 6 chalk
sandals (replaced often): 2 chalk

This has led to the saying, "A soldier's worth is one coin" (see argur below).

*Argur*

An _argur_ is a silver coin, worth 8 chalk. A sizable meal for one person might cost 1 argur, while a festive meal fit for the wealthy could cost as much as 5-6 argur per person. A full bottle of good wine typically costs 3+ argur.

*Krus*

A _krus_ is a gold coin, worth 25 argur, or 200 chalk. Krus is only used by merchants, nobility, lenders and other wealthy sorts who can spend a massive lump sum in one go.

*Beggar's Chits*

In the city of Theralis itself, the temples have set up a system of 'chits' which citizens can buy to hand out to beggars, and which beggars can then bring in for food, sleeping accomodations, curative services, and so on. A single argur buys a hundred chits (a chalk buys 10, so argur are more efficient).

Generally, the temples take a loss on some things (such as bread for 5 chits, wooden bowl of stew for 10 chits, wooden cup of poor wine for 10 chits) and makes a profit on other things (sleeping space for 10 chits, curative services for varying prices). It mostly balances out, and is more of an advertising scheme than a money-making scheme.

*Pay Scales & Labor*

A manual laborer can expect to make a wage of 3 chalk per day, minimum, and more typically about 6-7 chalk per day. These are the poorest, most unskilled jobs.

A beggar can take in about 10-30 chits a day.

Mildly skilled labor typically earns about 10 chalk per day. Apprentice crafters make the same, although they are usually more skilled - this is how they "pay their dues" to join the better paid crafters.

A skilled crafter typically earns about 2 argur per day; a master crafter can make as much as 8 chalk per day. This is generally spread out over a week or month, however, in the form of individual commissions.

Artisans do not normally have a regular pay scale, but instead rely on talent, public fads, and luck to determine whether they make a sale, gain a patron, etc. Many artisans hang around the temples to Allas, hoping for inspiration or patrons, and are only discernible from beggars by their use of chalk or argur instead of chits.

Stonemasons in the city of Theralis typically earn their money on an annual basis, making a typical minimum of 2,800+ argur in a year. Stonemasonry is a highly respected craft, and its members are often leaders in the community.

The best winemakers earn money and respect similar to the stonemasons, but usually live in the country, interacting with the city from their sprawling vine fields through proxies, merchants and sons and daughters. The most skilled winetasters live in the city, and make close to the same amount, although typically a bit less.

The merchant middle class typically makes between 2,000 and 10,000 argur per year, but are given none of the respect due winemakers and stonemasons... or even that given most crafters, for that matter. A quote from one well-liked discussion of society:







> "A merchant is rather like the stomach, completely necessary to the functioning of society, and providing the body politic with its basic products, but generally unnattractive, ungainly, and supported by greedy urges and the bowels."




Many merchants are also lenders, a slightly riskier but potentially more lucrative business.


----------



## seasong

*Some Example Enchantments*

*Captain Agina's Sword*

A master weaponer or armorer (_Craft 10+, typical age 30+_) can craft a bit of their own essence into their products. These are masterwork items, uncommon among the less than wealthy, and valued as much for their maker's mark as for their utility. While not legendary, per se, they are rare enough for comment.

Generally, only a crafter of 5th level or higher can construct such a thing. Calculate how many weeks it will take to craft the normal item (at 8 argur per day) and double that for materials and miscellaneous costs, then add 1 day at 8 argur/day per 1,000 gp of the standard enchantment cost. This is the base cost of the item; the cost for XP (based on advancement and annual pay scale for 5th level crafters) is approximately 0.5 krus per 1 XP.

Captain Agina's sword is such a thing, constructed by Urales. Although mere crude iron, it has been carefully tempered, and carries some of its crafters' spark, making it more resistant to nicks, improving its balance and response, and lending it a weightier impact than normal. It is a +2 hit/dmg weapon, and is worth more than its owner.

In terms of cost, Urales spent three weeks of crafting and eight days of enchanting on the sword, and in terms of craftsmanship, raw materials and time, the sword is worth 400 argur. The additional cost for the essence he put into the commission, however (320 XP), is roughly 1 1/3 years of his life worth of experience put into the sword, and can be costed at roughly 4,000 argur, or 160 krus. The final cost is about 176 krus.

If there is any doubt that Captain Agina is well valued by her country, let that doubt be put to rest.

*Athana's Spear*

Roughly a century and a half ago, Athana lived and died. During her life, Dianas gifted her with a broad-headed spear during her quest to defeat the necromancer Math. The spear (including the haft) was made of celestial steel, and seemed perpetually stained by grapes. The spearhead itself was shaped like a grape-leaf, and a grape vine was sculpted along the length of the haft, along with a prayer to Dianas.

All of the spears abilities were never revealed to history, but those known were:
* The wielder could fight as well drunk as sober.
* Stabbed deep into the earth, it could cause mighty grape vines to grow.
* A sacrifice of wine (poured on the spear) caused it to grow to immense length, allowing a chasm to be crossed, a giant to be killed, and a truly epic hurling of the spear.

The spear has since been lost (and in fact disappeared after Athana died defeating the necromancer), but would easily be worth a thousand or more krus.


----------



## seasong

I'm putting together a document of the story hour, probably PDF, and had some questions...

1. Anyone need a format _other_ than PDF? Only answer if you need something else.

2. Current plan is the narrative bits with some of the better side bits put in as footnotes, similar to Terry Pratchet, just not as funny. Anyone have any better ideas?

3. Should I edit? Or just go for the raw, "this is what was posted"?

Anyway, I looked it over, and it's presently at 13,000 words after a month and a day, for _narrative only_. The only two things I've ever written that topped that were Timeline (sci-fi setting at 20K) and Ginger (fantasy setting at 30K, regrettably lost to the great hard drive in the sky).

Here's to 13,000 more words, and the PCs' dawning realization that they're part of something big... and it's gonna squash 'em if they don't do something quick.


----------



## seasong

Oh, it's up on the website, incidentally: Book I so far.

Let me know!


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

Merideth woke first, a look of sheer excitement on her face. For the first few moments, she couldn't even speak... it was more of a delighted squeal, as the sunlight faded into the predawn night.

"IT'S A QUEST! FROM ALLAS! A QUEST! ATHAN! GREPPA! WAKE UP! A QUEST! I HAD A DREAM!"

The two boys woke up quickly, but harshly, and neither was particularly happy to be up. The sun had not risen. The crows were not crowing. But Merideth was up, and audible throughout the entire third floor of the tower.

Greppa initially denied having had the dream. And privately, he was a bit put out by it - he was intent on searching the mountains for Hurath, "just to be sure". But Athan admitted it easily (if without excitement), and Merideth was convinced that her path to heroism lay before her.

So they discussed the dream. Merideth was convinced that the river canyon connecting the southernmost Theralese valley to the rest was the first stanza; Greppa remained unconvinced (and suggested that some of the orc-dominated mountains might have a river that was "more asleep than resting"), but agreed that it would not take much time to check. Greppa also remained firm that the "scurry, crawl and cowl" referred to the orcs who were "once defeated" by the dragon... but again, gave way to Merideth's desire to check the southern canyon river first.

Athan just hefted his spears, checked their points, and waited for the two mage types to work out the details.

They left, Merideth humming the song gently to herself, Greppa and Athan moderately caught up in the excitement of doing something that adventurers do... and above, the sun shone bright and clear on their path.


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

To three 17-18 year olds, recently out of Service and orc enslavement, the walk downriver was actively fun. It took a few days, at their easy pace, to get to the canyon, and they took a few swims, raced a few miles, stopped at a few farms and spent Hurath's coin on goat's cheese and wine, and laughed and swapped stories with the locals.

It was the best few days they'd had in a long, long time.

They reached the canyon by evening, and decided to camp until dawn before hiking along its narrow paths. Dawn came quickly, and, full of energy, the trio began marching along the riverside, occasionally swimming when the steep cliff sides plunged too directly into the water, at other times clambering along trails put there by some thoughtful warden. The river was normally traversed only by boat, but no one wanted to buy a boat they wouldn't keep after.

By noon, roughly a third of the way through the canyon, they came to Glass Trout, an extremely deep, tiny lake where the river slowed to an invisible crawl. The cliffs here plunged directly into the water, and disappeared into shadow deep beneath the surface, and Athan, Merideth and Greppa gave themselves a thrill considering what monsters might lurk in those depths.

Merideth quietly quoted part of the song...

_"Halfway down, a third back up,
There is a tree, a ball, a cup,"_

"Halfway down, a third up, isn't that the same as a third down?"

Some quick figuring, and the boys agreed with her, so she continued, "Well, we're a third down the canyon river, and it _seems_ like it's sleeping... so maybe we should take a good look here?"

So they racked brains and eyes, swimming slowly about in the chilly water and looking at the cliff-like sides of the lake.

"I don't think any trees..." Athan trailed off.

Greppa wasn't looking for trees, however. He was looking for anything that _looked_ like a tree. And he spotted a crack in the cliff wall that might, if you screwed up your eyes and imagined very hard, vaguely resemble a tree with very few branches and a slight case of rot.

He swam toward it, and Merideth, when she saw where he was headed, noticed something else... "Hey, Greppa, look at the top of the crack. That's not a solid cliff!"

Indeed it was not. Instead, there was a short cliff wall, and then, well behind it, and blending almost perfectly, was the remainder of the cliff.

The crack itself turned out to be barely wide enough for a tall child... Merideth could almost fit, if she crawled, and Athan wouldn't have fit if the gods themselves decreed that he must.

Greppa groused, but finally crept through, making his way somewhat noisely through the crumbly crevice. As he neared the top, natural caution overtook, and he remained as hidden as he peeked out of the other side.

On the other side, in a small natural micro-valley, was the twisted tree, and the wooden sphere chained to a boulder. They were considerably larger than in the dream, and the wooden ball seemed as wide as Greppa was tall.







He quickly scrambled back through to tell the others, and they discussed getting Athan through. Ultimately, they decided to head back to civilization, to get rope.


----------



## Indigo Veil

Hey, all. My name's Christina, and this is my first post to EN World. (Yay.)  Aside from being an EN World newbie, I'm also one of Seasong's players in his "New Avengers" campaign.  Hi. *waves*

Seasong asked me to read this little story hour, and--though I played no part in its creation, and contribute nothing to its evolution--I'm really glad he asked me to. Thomas, I gobbled up your story hour in two sittings (somewhat impressive, as I've the attention span of a gnat), and I continue to check back regularly to nibble at your tasty narrative morsels throughout the day when work gets boring. ^_^ S'good stuff--fills my brain right up, and makes me feel all warm 'n fuzzy inside.  Mmm, yummy: war, death and dying.  Nuthin' else like 'em. =^.^= 

I have a few comments, though. I agree with incognito; we need to hear more about Captain Agina. Give Captain Agina more lines! *shakes a raised fist rather impotently at the Heavens in a weak threat* But perhaps I've a slightly biased opinion--she's one of those unattainable mentor types, after all, and I seem to have an incorrigible fondness for frighteningly competent women. *laugh*  Along the same lines, I'd like to see more of Olgah, the Orcish shaman. She was so delightfully portrayed in that little vignette...

Anyway, I guess I'm writing to offer you gentle nudges toward frequent updates. ^_^ Oh, and also to poke slight fun at Hank, or snownoir.  Just so everyone knows, his sig file is slightly inaccurate: 

Thomas Weigel: "Pick a number
between one and ten."

Players: "Wahhh! I don't want to! "

Replace the word "players" with "Hank," and it'll be a little more on target. He's the *only* one who agonizes over rolls like that. *laugh* The rest of us don't whine about it nearly as much.


----------



## Occam's Nail File

*Bring on da Snark! (not Snarf)*

Well, since Chris posted, I can't be shown up.  I'm Lindsey, another of the New Avengers bunch.  I haven't read the -entire- story hour yet, but once again I must question Thomas's self assessments.  This is the guy who for years told me he doesn't write fiction because it is "bad" when he does so.  Perhaps that isn't classical fiction, but it makes a nice yarn.  

Then again, that's what this Story Hour is about innit?  Nice yarns.  

I think I'll finish there now that Chris made me forget what I was gonna say for the third time.


----------



## seasong

Good to hear from the both of you .

Christina: We'll hear from Olgah again, for sure. Captain Agina, we'll see about - it depends on how effectively Athan, Greppa and Merideth are at dodging her. But Olgah will occasionally be getting her own vignette.

Lindsey: Story Hour doesn't have to have a beginning, middle and end. It doesn't need a point. And honestly, it doesn't have to meet the standards of fiction. I write it extemperaneously, with only occasional editting for factual errors or glaring bad writing, and the most forward planning I do is to see if I can find stopping points that are cliff hangers (don't always succeed, of course).

Completely off thread: the "New Avengers" campaign is a superhero soap opera, where, in addition to destroying Threats to Mankind on an annual basis, our overpowered heroes must contend with:

* bad mother-daughter relationships
* unrequited romances
* being a widower
* reading bedtime stories to the Hulk
* being seen by the public as the "team's Barbie Doll"
* this burning question: is the good looking son of Colossus gay?
* just to name a few 

It's a fun romp through tangled relationships and about one "campaign" per 4 sessions (we've done Invasion Of The Pod People, Orpheus Into Hell, and Mutant Hating Robots thus far). I really would have liked to do a Story Hour about it, but when I sat down at computer, all of the tangled relationships got hopelessly muddled. Maybe our next campaign .


----------



## seasong

I editted the last update, and replaced the text-image with a sketch of the cliff side. It took me about 15 minutes to whip up in Corel PhotoPaint, using nothing fancy.

Anyway, I've gotta go catch the bus to work, so I'll see y'all later!


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

It took the trio the rest of the day to hike back upriver to buy a rope, so they waited until morning to hike downriver. Despite some nervousness on Merideth's part, the crack was still present when they arrived at noon.

Greppa skinnied through the crevice once more, then climbed up to the top of the miniwall. Not sure how to tie a proper knot, he wrapped it around a projection, looped it through itself a few times, then lay down on top of the rope and held on to be sure.

Once in the little dip in the cliff wall, they looked at the scene.

The tree was as twisted up and tortured looking as the dream had promised, and seemed mostly (if not wholly) dead. About thirty feet away, a 5' diameter wooden sphere with a slick, textured surface was chained to a rocky outcropping. The chain was thick iron, and deeply pitted with rust.

There was no cup, and the would-be heroes pondered the situation, brows furrowed.

Greppa, on a hunch, finally walked over to the tree and climbed up on the lower roots. Sure enough, the coiling shape of the trunk created a nearly hemispherical hollow, that looked like it might fit the ball. He grinned and repeated his find to the other two.

Athan grinned back, "So all we've got to do is rip that ball off the boulder?"

Merideth and Greppa both nodded solemnly. Any excuse to see Athan flex, after all. Unfortunately, it wasn't much of a show. Athan heaved, grunted and heaved again, but didn't manage to break the chain or pull it free. Merideth and Greppa helped, and it still wouldn't pull free.

Having tested the limits of their ability to pull it by normal means, Greppa decided this was a fine time to field-test _earth's strength_, and he cast it on Athan. Athan's tan deepened into an earthy brown, and his eyes changed to resemble yellow agates. He let out a brief sigh of pleasure as he felt the strength in his limbs increase, and then he hauled on the ball one more time.

Nothing.

Finally, he had built up enough frustration, and with a primal yell, raged against the chain, jerking this way and that, calling upon his deeper reserves...

It broke in two like thin twine.

Athan, still breathing hard and wild-eyed, heaved the ball up on his shoulders, clambered up the roots, and dumped the ball in the cup. For good measure, Greppa beside him knocked three times.

Neither noticed when the iron chain fell off the ball at the knocks.

What they did notice was the transformation the tree was undergoing, and they scrambled off as quickly as they could. The tree pushed itself outward and upward, uncoiling like a bullwhip in slow motion. The roots fattened, swayed, and plunged deeper into the earth, and the ground shook with their force. The trunk also fattened, and the tree swiftly straightened into a wide, ancient oak.

When it was done, two of the roots nearest shore and formed an archway, revealing a darkly shadowed cave beneath the tree... and the crack that Greppa had squeezed through behind them had split open into a tiny lake inlet.

Merideth peered into the depths of the cave, her hand shading her eyes, and then looked at the mostly-used torches they'd kept from the tower... "We're going to need more torches."


----------



## incognito

> Merideth peered into the depths of the cave, her hand shading her eyes, and then looked at the mostly-used torches they'd kept from the tower... "We're going to need more torches."




This is becoming our heroes mantra, right?  Perhaps after a few more darkness mishaps, they can call themselves "Heroes of the Torch"  or something similar.

Some good updates seasong - especially the ecomony, which I typically over look, just to keeps things sufficently fantasy-esque. Although, when I destroy the world on thier asses, they are going to have some fun with water and rations...heh.

I love the fact that players from you other games are posting in this thread!  And I agree with the two of them, that if you'd stop whining about how tough it is to write good fiction, and agaonizing over word count, etc, etc, you could easily put out some good works of fiction.

I know, I am a former editor IRL 

Lesse...I don'y have to much in the way of questions, except to wonder how you worked the STR check for the ball and chain scene: was a minimum STR needed, rather than a STR check?


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> This is becoming our heroes mantra, right?  Perhaps after a few more darkness mishaps, they can call themselves "Heroes of the Torch"  or something similar.



Heh heh. Especially since they _just_ hiked back to town to get rope. I don't think Merideth would stand for anything less than "Light Against The Dark" or "Heroes of the Flame" or something equally heroic sounding.







> Some good updates seasong - especially the ecomony, which I typically over look, just to keeps things sufficently fantasy-esque.



The three big culture builders for me: money, mythology, and might. I eat this stuff up.







> I love the fact that players from you other games are posting in this thread!  And I agree with the two of them, that if you'd stop whining about how tough it is to write good fiction, and agaonizing over word count, etc, etc, you could easily put out some good works of fiction.



Bah! No one understands my pain!

Seriously, Story Hour is different for me. I'm still working out the reasons why, but I think part of it is (a) the actual plotting is semi-extemperaneous, and the writing is just interpretation, and (b) I can 'see' my audience.







> Lesse...I don'y have to much in the way of questions, except to wonder how you worked the STR check for the ball and chain scene: was a minimum STR needed, rather than a STR check?



Pretty standard: the extra-thick chain needed a 26 on the roll, Athan +3, bonus from help +2, total is not enough even on a 20 (and they kept rolling 5 or less); the bonus from _rage_ ability +2, bonus from _earth's strength_ +2, and Athan finally rolled a 20, for a total of 29.

Since there are no rules for how to add STR to others that I could find, I just added up the light encumbrance numbers, which shifted Athan's STR from 16 to 20, and used the new bonus.


----------



## Caliber

Very cool seasong!

And thanks for the new picture, cause to be honest, the other was damn near meaingless to me. Maybe I'm just blind though.  

Light Against the Darkness huh? Nifty!


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: Olgah's Journey*

Squatting on a rock outside her cave, Olgah watched young orcs boast and wrestle. She was bored. Prey was plentiful. Slaves were plentiful. Beautiful waterfalls and pretty boulders were plentiful. Young couples were plentiful, and when Fall came, babies would be plentiful.

Need for Olgah, however, was not plentiful. Every morning, she petitioned the mountain spirits for a beautiful day. Every evening, she petitioned them for a safe night. But there were no daring ventures to bargain with spirits over, no dangerous spirit quests required of her. Even her former slaves were gone, so she did not need to study, and reading the little mage's writing was hard to motivate for. She found herself wishing the spirits would say no to her daily petitions, just once.

It's unlikely that her wishful thinking had anything to do with what happened next, but she felt deep, bone-aching guilt nonetheless. It was what her tribe was named for, after all.

Heedless of the shamaness' feelings of sudden guilt, vast wings shadowed part of the valley floor, and the dragon was upon them.

To their credit, many Bunahken were fearless. Fewer than a quarter of them fled before the great wyrm's majestic visage, and more than half retained enough of their minds to cast their spears at its flanks. Some of those spears even pierced the great hide, like tiny needles pricking the flesh.

The dragon roared, and a gout of flame wiped out three warbands, leaving naught but charred meat, still standing upright, spears at ready. The dragon landed as it breathed, and a dozen orcs were crushed beneath, while others were smeared by a swing of the great tail.

Mere seconds had passed, and the orcs were already routing.

As they fled, the trees closed in, blocking escape. The prey, so plentiful, now fought back, gouging with horns and crushing with hooves. And tiny, poisoned arrows rained from invisible attackers in the trees, bringing with them paralysis and death.

As the Bunahken panicked and broke, the Uhkamah tribe, wrongly punished for Bunahken sins against the forest, mustered their remaining numbers and flooded into the valley, slaughtering indiscriminately, to appease the dragon's rage.

By evening, no Bunahken stood in the valley, of any age or gender. Of the slaves, some had escaped in the chaos, to find their way through the wilderness, perhaps to home; others were recaptured by their new masters; many were dead, slaughtered with the Bunahken.

The dragon, kobolds and Uhkamah left at nightfall. Corpses filled the valley, meat for predators and scavengers. Where the dragon had landed, some sixty charred bodies continued to hold the blackened remains of their spears in battle stance.

From her cave, where she had hidden with Kestra and a few young orcs as soon as she realized the futility of fighting, Olgah looked over the scene and wept freely.


----------



## snownoir

HOLY SCHMOOOO!!!!


----------



## Capellan

seasong said:
			
		

> *Since there are no rules for how to add STR to others that I could find, I just added up the light encumbrance numbers, which shifted Athan's STR from 16 to 20, and used the new bonus. *




Aid Another.  It's 3E's "one size fits all" game mechanic for adjudicating the effects of two or more people working together.

There's a typo in your update, btw - the hollow in the tree should be just the right size for the b_ball_.  Currently, it says that it is just the right size for the tree, which is a little bit mind-bending 

Good stuff, seasong.  Looking forward to more.


----------



## seasong

*Capellan:* My reading of Aid Another indicated that it was a combat-only skill (i.e., it's in the combat section for an Attack Bonus, but nothing indicates that it also applies to skills or STR use). Plus, that means that two giants with 20 STR each working together have as much chance of breaking a chain as one 20 STR giant and his 4 STR midget friend.

The typo is fixed. Thanks for the sharp eyes!


----------



## Indigo Veil

snownoir said:
			
		

> *HOLY SCHMOOOO!!!! *



*grin* Eloquently put. ^_^ 

I guess that means we'll be seeing still more of Olgah, huh? Huzzah! While normally I dislike orcs a great deal, I've found that I'm rather drawn to Thomas's orcs--there's something in them that makes them downright _cuddly_.  (well, if you overlook their natural inclination toward senseless violence, that is.) 

I'm also coming to like Merideth more and more.  Dubbing her party "Light Against the Dark" and "Heroes of the Flame" is just too precious. *laugh*


----------



## Capellan

seasong said:
			
		

> *Capellan: My reading of Aid Another indicated that it was a combat-only skill (i.e., it's in the combat section for an Attack Bonus, but nothing indicates that it also applies to skills or STR use). Plus, that means that two giants with 20 STR each working together have as much chance of breaking a chain as one 20 STR giant and his 4 STR midget friend.*




Aid Another works really well for a thousand other purposes, though.  No need to force it to stay in combat. 

And since it requires a check at DC10, a STR 20 character is a lot more likely to be useful than a STR 4 one (since they will make the DC far more often).

Is it terribly, terribly realistic?  Probably not.  But it's easy, and it's quick, and it works for all occasions 

And that's the last I'll say on the subject, lest we drag this fine story hour into another forum entirely


----------



## incognito

Now seasong, ole seasong - here we have a perfectly good dragon attack, which could've set our heroes free, and you've gone and set them free already...

...sigh...

Still, the horrific carnage a dragon can cause warms my old heart...None of those orcs had imporved evasion and rolled a "20" on thier saving throw, eh?

Bummer.

 

Anyone besides me anticipating the Agina/Olgah face off?  With our heroes ariving in time to help or hinder!  HA-cha-cha-cha!


----------



## snownoir

Bloody orcs, always stealing the attention.   What about ME ME ME!!!!....Oh yeah and Merideth and Athan too. 

Oh, yeah, I am so not in favor of that name. Merideth may have a penchant for Velveeta, but I'm lactose intolerant. I think we should keep things on the down-low and let our deeds speak for us. Marketing may make heroes now, but let's see a marketing exec spin down a monstrous spider.


----------



## Indigo Veil

incognito said:
			
		

> *Anyone besides me anticipating the Agina/Olgah face off?  With our heroes ariving in time to help or hinder!  HA-cha-cha-cha! *



 

*gasp!* Oh my god, I didn't even think about that!  *looks worried and nervously shifts her weight from foot to foot*  Oh no! I like them both so much that I don't know who to root for! 

*continues her little "I'm worried" dance, and adds steps so that she shifts her weight while moving in a small circle at the same time*

Pros: More Captain Agina. ("Mmmmm." *melts into a little puddle on the floor*) More Olgah. (Yay!)

Cons: A fight between the two, very probably with the loser dead.

Gah, I'm torn!


----------



## seasong

*Capellan:* Hm. Good points. I think for STR, I'll stick with the house rule, but otherwise... good rule to remember.

*incognito:* Improved evasion is something that usually develops when you face off against a lot of area attack effects, something woefully lacking in orc diet.

Random notes:

Between breath, landing and tail sweeps, nearly 80 orcs died in the surprise round; combined with the kobolds, several hundred orcs died in a very short time after that, and the orc cleanup crew came through to handle the weak and/or young. It was horrific.

And very cool.

Regarding Olgah vs Agina: No promises. It seems an unlikely meeting, at the moment, and the focus will generall be on the PCs (with a vignette here and there).


----------



## Indigo Veil

seasong said:
			
		

> *Regarding Olgah vs Agina: No promises. It seems an unlikely meeting, at the moment, and the focus will generall be on the PCs (with a vignette here and there). *




*breathes a sigh of relief*  Oh, goodie. =^^= I didn't think it was too likely either, but once the suggestion was in place, I got all carried away and started to worry. ^^;;;


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

Merideth was hot to go get torches, but Greppa was unwilling to leave the cave "just... open like that". Finally, Athan agreed to stay at the cave while the other two ran for torches.

After Greppa and Merideth had left, Athan settled down into a nice spot, rested his butt on the ground and his head on a spear, and watched the cave.

For a while, he just spent time thinking about his two compatriots. He'd grown fond of them, and very protective... and both were intent on chasing mad dreams in the very dangerous wilderness. He didn't mind that so much, as just worry for them.

Merideth was fragile enough, and couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag, but Greppa! The boy was skinny enough for an orc to use him as a tooth pick, and while he was handy enough with the spear in tournaments, could barely push the head through a straw target, much less a shield or bone.

Athan sighed and shook his head, keeping himself awake. He felt like he'd left off watching out for his younger siblings to start covering for a pair of new ones. Still, Merideth seemed to have a nose for trouble, and Athan had discovered within himself a deep and abiding _love_ for trouble.

He chuckled about that, knowing he'd never admit to it with the others, and began fantasizing about dead orcs piling up beneath his spear...

When his eyes finally drooped, six hours later, a pair of man-sized, brown-furred spiders quickly scurried toward him from the shadows. It wasn't a good decision.

Athan scrambled to stand up as they attacked, taking two ferocious bites but failing to slump or fall. Instead, in almost a single motion, he stabbed one and decapitated the other with the head of his spear.

"*Yeah! Come on, ur pashin aknah! Come and get me!*"

He continued to insult them, but no more braved the space outside the cave. Athan grinned, and began cleaning off his spear. Orc was a damned fine tongue, whatever he might think of the tribes personally.

*More Orcish*
_ur = you, in orcish, with kind of a "You! Over there!" to it
pashin = as mentioned earlier, this means wuss, wimp, pansy, etc. In old orcish it was 'clean ear'.
aknah = crawler, or 'low belly'; used to refer to most insects, but also to cowards who are petitioning you for mercy._


----------



## incognito

> Athan scrambled to stand up as they attacked, taking two ferocious bites but failing to slump or fall. Instead, in almost a single motion, he stabbed one and decapitated the other with the head of his spear.




The beauty that is _Cleave_ rears hit's head in yet another story hour.

Go Athan! (you big brute).

I'm waiting for Greppa to bust out the unarmed attacks.  Hooowhaaaa! (we call him Greppa-Li, jokes Athan)

Oh, and seasong, not to rain on the parade, but the dragon can't breath and land and sweep, raining  gory death on those poor Orcs all in the suprise round  - you big brute (not that they'd have a chance in a "regualr round, mind you).

A am starting an anti-seasong/preserve seasong's orcs foundation.  Or A.S.P.S.O.F. for short. Membership fees are quite reasonable, apply within.


----------



## Caliber

I'm suprised with all of the Torch problems that no one has bothered to learn a Light spell. Or does no one have access to that one?

As any Fighter can tell you, Cleave rocks.


----------



## seasong

Surprise Round: You're right. The big lug should have only had a partial action, not a standard action. My bad. On the other hand, that delayed their inevitable death by only ~3 seconds. It would have been "land, spears poke into hide, breath, claw & tail". Same thing. I'll do better when there are PCs involved.

Greppa: Greppa has been studying Hurath's books, and has a bunch of new spells he's itching to try out. Earth's Strength was only the beginning.

Light Spell: The funny thing is, they went and got all these torches, and then when they went in and faced a big room that the torches didn't entirely light, Greppa went and cast _daylight_. Open mouths all around. Greppa's excuse? "The fire is more important against the spiders than the light."


----------



## Caliber

seasong said:
			
		

> *Light Spell: The funny thing is, they went and got all these torches, and then when they went in and faced a big room that the torches didn't entirely light, Greppa went and cast daylight. Open mouths all around. Greppa's excuse? "The fire is more important against the spiders than the light." *




LMAO!


----------



## Esiminar

Any chance of seeing the PCs stats?


----------



## seasong

I have started a Rogue's Gallery thread for the PC's stats.

This will follow them down through the levels.


----------



## Caliber

Whohoo! Finally, a chance to see your nifty house rules on ... er ... paper.

Already subscribed to the new thread.


----------



## Occam's Nail File

*I finished the whole thing!*

Woo!  The entire thing, I read it!  Finally! ...you'd be more impressed if you knew how hard it is for me to stay on one topic that long.  

Seriously though, neat story Thomas.  I have to agree with Indigo, those orcs are just adorable.  When presented as a barbaric culture with a heavy collective gambling addiction they're a lot more interesting than the usual slavering-horde model.  

Anyway, now I get the dubious honor of joining the throng clamoring for updates.


----------



## seasong

Greppa's stats will have to wait (I don't have the character sheet handy, need to fix that ), but Athan & Merideth are completed in the Rogues Gallery. I'm devoting one post to each one, with every level version in the same post.

A few things about Athan: Yeah, he's twinked out. This is actually scaled back from when Great Cleave was available for 1 point. I viciously ripped that from his bosom as soon as I saw it. However, for the rest of it, it works out okay. It will work even better when I take his spears away.

Ah, did I just say that? Aheh heh. Ignore that.

A few things about Merideth: Trying to be two mages at once is difficult. She's planning to learn the heck out of new spells at 4th level, but for now she's pretty limited.

As a side note, I'm collecting orc words in a single file, which I'll be making available on the website. I will still include translations, of course, but I thought a short dictionary might be interesting. Chock full of etymological goodies, too, like where the word _ankheg_ comes from, and why calling someone an insect in orc is particularly insulting.


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*
_wherein our heroes actually *enter* it_.

By the time Greppa and Merideth returned, Athan was resting against the rocks again, looking bored save for the slightly swollen bite marks and massive spider corpses lying on the ground. Merideth laid healing hands on him, despite his protestations of "it's just a scratch, really".

And Greppa had a new trick. One at a time, he cast _earth's strength_ and _earth's skin_ on each of them. As he summoned the earth spirit into each of them, their skin darkened to rich sienna tones, their eyes turned to yellow agates, and heat flowed through their limbs. All three sighed - with heated blood and hardened skin, they felt invincible.

Torches were lit, and they walked into the cave.

-----

The floor gently sloped beneath the tree, and resembled wide, naturally cut stone steps. Iron brackets on the walls held cracked and broken glass spheres. This was no natural cave.

They penetrated perhaps twenty feet in, and what looked like eight feet down, when the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern, somewhere inside the cliff behind the tree. All three peered into the darkness beyond the torchlight, trying to penetrate the shadows, but they saw nothing.

Then Greppa shrugged, drew a circle in the air, and incanted, "_uil allas ger mar_". Daylight, true sunlight, streamed from the stalactite-filled ceiling and filled much of the cavern.

Athan and Merideth were too shocked to notice the 12 foot long brown-furred spider clinging to the far left wall, now revealed by the light. When the light filled the cave, it hissed and shot webbing from its abdomen at the most heroic looking of the three, Athan.

Then, everything opened up at once. A swarm of fist-sized spiders dropped from the ceiling, Greppa began running towards a large pool of water visible in the center of the cave, and Merideth cooly pushed her burning torch into Athan's chest, burning away the webbing and killing some half dozen spiders that had dropped on him.

Not that Athan minded. Earth's skin was more effective than hoped for, and neither the spider bites nor the flames hurt at all. The big spider immediately fled, and the trio set to work smashing the littler ones with spear, foot and spell.

Greppa, weakened by the casting of _daylight_, asked to rest for a bit, and so they sat in the sun for about half an hour, watching the hole at the back of the cave carefully. While they were waiting, Greppa noticed something else.

Where the daylight was directly hitting the broken globes, the glass was _growing back_. It was unsettling to watch, until one finished healing, and began to cast its own daylight. Then everyone started to smile.

"We can restore this temple!" Merideth was excited. Even Athan didn't manage to keep back a grin.

So they rested, went back and let Greppa cast _daylight_ on the entrance tunnel, and then they prepared to go through the hole at the back.

Greppa cast _daylight_ through the hole, and they charged in, spotting spiders everywhere, including the 12 foot brown one and... a massive, 15 foot black one that looked like the _hell hunter_, only bigger, and without the red rune on its back.

As they ran in, it hissed something foul sounding, and Greppa's _daylight_ winked out. In the pitch black of the deeper caves, the sounds of scurrying could be heard.


----------



## Caliber

> In the pitch black of the deeper caves, the sounds of scurrying could be heard.




Very spooky description of the spiders and the darkness. Nice cliff-hanger too. Spiders that can cast Darkness are nasty beasties.

I have a question about Greppa's spells.

Earth's Strength is obviously (well, to me) Bull's Strength right?

What is Earth's Skin? Endurance? Bark Skin? Mage Armor?


----------



## incognito

*Uh-oh!*

Classic player over confidence.  Spelled up and thinking they were "da-man" G, M, and A, are about to achive a 1st class ass-whuppin' I'll bet...

O, O, O - question about spell casting fatigue.  does a 1 always fail on this check?

I like this story hour, I do.  I wish my players didn't HAVE to have a 18 INT or WIS as spell casters...


----------



## seasong

I'll be answering mechanical questions about the characters' abilities in the rogues' gallery thread, to keep non-narrative stuff to a minimum. I've answered the above questions there.

As for the 1st-class whuppin', we'll see.


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

_Earth's skin_ was the only thing that saved them. The smallest spiders had difficulties biting through their hardened flesh, and even the larger spiders had problems finding purchase for their fangs. Still, the situation was bad.

Greppa could feel almost all of his strength draining from him as the twelve foot mountain spider near-paralyzed him with its bite... and he was suddenly grateful for the small extra boost of _earth's strength_ that kept him standing upright.

Infernal webbing filled the room, making movement or tactics of any sort almost imopssible. And regardless of how difficult the spiders found biting, they were swarming over the heroes and continuing to try.

Finally, Greppa managed to cast _daylight_ again, and the heroes got a good look. Each of them was covered in brown and grey-furred spiders that would have been harmless enough if they were not organized by the hell hunter. Greppa was pinned by a massive brown-and-black spider that easily weighed eight times what he did. Merideth was completely trapped in the webbing, and struggling only seemed to make it worse.

And then, the heroes finally had a stroke of luck. Although fire did not burn the webbing... sunlight did. The trio took some delicate, first degree burns from the brief flames, but the spiders took it far, far worse, being unprotected by the _earth's skin_. Almost all of the smaller spiders died, screaming, burning and running. The larger ones (and the large on standing on Greppa) squealed, but continued to fight.

Until Athan, enraged, hurled his spear the distance between himself and Greppa, and completely buried it in the big one's torso... by way of its head. The spider lurched off and expired quietly.

Greppa, freed again, crafted horrible revenge on the hell hunter in the form of a summoned fire elemental, which streaked onto the hell hunter's skin and began gleefully using up the essence Greppa had given it to burn, burn, burn.

The hell hunter finally braved the direct daylight, and attacked Greppa. Perhaps it should have gone after Athan, but it still harbored some idea that spell casters were worse to let live.

Two spears, an _inflict moderate wounds_ and another fire elemental, and it finally died. Greppa could barely stand, and Merideth was badly injured as well, but no more spiders were coming for the moment, having retreated further back into the temple area.

The room through the hole was even larger than the first, and at the edge of the light the heroes could see pillars, and the stone-paved beginning of the temple itself. On either side of the hole were a pair of statues of warrior-servants to Allas.

The heroes retreated to the cavern with the pool of water, and Greppa used his last reserves to fill the room with sunlight. They rested there, and fervently hoped that the big hell hunter was the last.

Well, except perhaps for Athan. He was looking forward to it.


----------



## seasong

That's probably going to be my last update until after Hallmark Day. Work is expected to be really busy today and tomorrow, and there's an office party I have to attend this evening... and then I'm visiting my parents for the weekend + holiday. But I'll be chained back to the desk job after that, starting Thursday the 26th, so I should be able to start updating again at that point.

On the plus side, I'm going to have four days of enforced family time to hide in my room and develop stuff for my various campaigns. Well, that and practice martial arts with my little brother .

(To my Mom, who I recently learned was reading this Story Hour: I'm joking above. It's a joke. I'm planning to beat tar out of the little snot.)

Seriously... It's going to be good to be "home" .


----------



## Caliber

Cool battle. Hope you have a happy Christmas!

I noticed you said the Earth's Skin protected the party from the flames ... does that mean DR in your game is universal? (ie, DR counts not only as reduction from physical harm, but also from energy attacks?)


----------



## seasong

Answered in the PC thread.


----------



## Indigo Veil

Hey, Thomas. ^_^ So I made it safely to New York, and I hope you have a good trip and visit home for your holiday. Tell your sister and mom that I said hi. ^_^

About the story hour: this might seem like a question with an obvious answer (or perhaps you've already given an answer for this), but why do our heroes face -spiders- so consistently?  It's like, everywhere they turn, spiders are waiting for them. Is that ethereal spider god thing the nemesis of Allas, or something?

Happy holidays, everyone!


----------



## seasong

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> Hey, Thomas. ^_^ So I made it safely to New York, and I hope you have a good trip and visit home for your holiday. Tell your sister and mom that I said hi. ^_^



I will! And have fun in NYC .







> About the story hour: this might seem like a question with an obvious answer (or perhaps you've already given an answer for this), but why do our heroes face -spiders- so consistently?  It's like, everywhere they turn, spiders are waiting for them. Is that ethereal spider god thing the nemesis of Allas, or something?



I don't believe anyone's asked, no .

We can look at the facts, however:
1. First spiders: Hurath's error. Oops.
2. After defeating a hell hunter, Allas sends a dream.
3. Dream leads _straight_ into spider's den.
4. Spider's den is broken, abandoned temple.
5. Temple has daylight-casting glass globes.
6. Temple has statues of Allas' servants.
7. Sunlight (Allas is the sun goddess) burns infernal webs.
8. The spider god was cast from the heavens by the current crop of dieties.

Hmmmmmm... Coincidence? Only time will tell.


----------



## Occam's Nail File

*Vicious as ever. *

So many spiderses!  I know you already explained why, but being covered in oversized brown-furred spiders while facing the big leather-skinned hellborne one would be only slightly better than being covered in tiny brown-furred spiders.  I suppose what I'm saying is it could have been worse.  Hates the spiders.  Hates them.

Oh, and Indigo, you can post into a D&D thread that you made it safely but you can't call to inform me of such?!   Addict.


----------



## seasong

Sorry for taking so long to respond: Yes, having some justification for the spiders makes being covered in them slightly easier to deal with, I'm sure .

And I'm not that vicious.


----------



## (contact)

Seasong, you're an awfully difficult man to get ahold of-- email me at cklarock@hotmail.com, por favor.


----------



## seasong

E-mail sent.


----------



## seasong

I may be running the next session on Saturday, so hopefully I'll get started on continuing Broken Temple this next week! In the meantime, I thought I'd post some other stuff I've been thinking about.

*A Bigger Picture*

The PCs come from small villages and towns in the Theralis Valleys, and for the most part, they've seen their home town, the road to the city of Theralis, the city itself, Eastpass, and 50-100 miles north to the Bunahken tribal camps. Athan, under the tutelage of his mother, spent some time in the east-side wilderness of the Theralis Valleys, and Merideth did a fair amount of trade travel along the river through the canyons where the Broken Temple is located.

The Theralis Valleys are a reasonably large place, and you could visit a hundred small villages, patches of wilderness, subtly different local wines, old ruins, strange towns, secret caves, glorious views of nature, abandoned vineyards, hermit herbalists, and genuinely dangerous areas of deep forest without exhausting their scope. But there is a bigger world out there, and one which the PCs will eventually come to know.

Theralis is located in a set of valleys within a peninsula mountain range; wilderness and coast is to the west, and orc tribes are to the east. To the North are the trade routes to other city states, and beyond that, the mainland.

*City States*

Theralis is not the only city-state of its kind, although the others possess their own unique cultural personalities. I don't want to give up too much here, but suffice it to say that they are also fighting orcs, and may be potent allies or hindrances in the future.

*The Civilized North*

Farther north are the great cities and kingdoms. They are the real power on the peninsula, and compared to them Theralis is a poor, backwater, third world country whose wine-based economy is largely dependant upon northern demand for it. The trade route north travels through the city-states, but ultimately arrives here.

According to Theralis knowledge, the north has mighty arcanists who can rain fiery death upon entire armies, summon earthquakes, and travel to the outer realms of existence; healers who can bring an entire warband from the brink of death to full health and cure terrible diseases; espers who foretell the future with frightful accuracy.

Also according to Theralis knowledge, the northerners are arrogant, soft and incompetent. So take either with a grain of salt.


----------



## incognito

Nad they have magic items, and, and 1/2 celestial imporved familiars...and, and, and Perment Planar gates!  An GOLD, gold the streets are paved everywhere...

Is the name of this Northern City "Ahmerikuh"?



Wher are thhose armored cat thingies?  And what place to the undead play in your world?


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Nad they have magic items, and, and 1/2 celestial imporved familiars...and, and, and Perment Planar gates!  An GOLD, gold the streets are paved everywhere...
> 
> Is the name of this Northern City "Ahmerikuh"?



Heh. I think it's simply called "Fohren Plasses".







> Wher are thhose armored cat thingies?  And what place to the undead play in your world?



Patience, grasshopper. The armored cat comes precisely when it means to, and usually from above.

As for the undead... perhaps I should make a post of that, along with some more notes on the abomination that is a necromancer. There's no short answer, however, other than "you don't see _that_ in Theralis, no sir!"


----------



## Lazybones

Hey seasong, I'm only on page 3 at the moment, but I wanted to add my commentary to your story hour.  You've got a unique and very well-realized world, and as a DM/builder myself I appreciate your additional posts on the history/mythology/culture of your world.  Your creation is reminscent of Old One's _Faded Glory_ campaign setting in which two story hours here (his and Rel's) are set, in that it mixes real-history influences with a great deal of custom background and rules modifications.

Others have already commented on the challenges involved with placing players within a larger context in which they are not initially the "stars."  This won't work with all players, but it seems that you have a good group that is willing to let you tell your story without feeling "railroaded."  Plus your setup allows the players to have great reasons for why their characters are adventuring together, which is much better than "so you meet some strangers at an inn..."

Initially it was your post about the craft of writing that drew me to this story hour, and I was not disappointed.  Good luck and I look forward to getting caught up on all the action (plus it seems I may have found someone as prolific as I am on updating!).  

Lazy


----------



## seasong

Lazybones said:
			
		

> Your creation is reminscent of Old One's _Faded Glory_ campaign setting in which two story hours here (his and Rel's) are set, in that it mixes real-history influences with a great deal of custom background and rules modifications.



I will have to look that one up - thanks for the reference .







> Others have already commented on the challenges involved with placing players within a larger context in which they are not initially the "stars."  This won't work with all players, but it seems that you have a good group that is willing to let you tell your story without feeling "railroaded."  Plus your setup allows the players to have great reasons for why their characters are adventuring together, which is much better than "so you meet some strangers at an inn..."



My players are, indeed, awesome .

As for the larger context... we've established a lot of trust on certain issues. One of those is that their individual narratives, the scope and breadth and power of their character development and "cool factor" is multiplied immensely by having that initial, larger context.

If they reach higher levels and get in a fight with Amalan and kick its ass... well, this early stuff will have given them a measuring stick for just how cool that is.







> Initially it was your post about the craft of writing that drew me to this story hour, and I was not disappointed.  Good luck and I look forward to getting caught up on all the action (plus it seems I may have found someone as prolific as I am on updating!).



Thank you, on both counts! My update schedule thus far has been: play a session on the weekend, space out the updates over the week, insert filler on background to taste. It seems to be working, although the filler pace is a bit slow for me .


----------



## seasong

*The Broken Temple*

After resting for nearly a full day, and prepping the Earth spells on everyone, the young heroes were ready to go another round. Athan gripped a spear tightly, the other slung at his back (he'd refused to dig through the body of the large brown spider to get the third back). Merideth nodded - she was ready. They stepped into the next room, with _sunlight_ on Greppa's lips (they figured they would get some additional surprise if they stepped in at the same moment as the sunlight).

Yes, they were ready for anything.

As they stepped through, Greppa never finished his spell. Webbing, coating in some paralytic fluid, dropped him the second he started casting, and he slumped down, his eyes still open but unable to move or speak to cast. And a pair of half-ton brown mountain spiders dropped on top of Athan and Merideth, biting painfully through their Earth's Skin protections and injecting their toxin... Athan seemed unaffected, but Merideth was pinned completely as much of her Greppa-enhanced strength fled her limbs.

That left Athan. Bellowing a roar at the top of his lungs, he physically lifted and slammed the offending, twelve foot spider into the cavern wall, severely injuring it, and began pulling out his spear.

Merideth's spider, meanwhile, had finished webbing her up, and bounded after Athan as well, just as a thin ray of spiralling flame just missed Athan and melted a section of cavern wall. Athan ignored the two giant spiders biting him, and hurled his spear at the source of the flames. A meaty thunk and angry hiss answered. Then, lacking any other plan, he charged into the darkness, pulling his other spear as he did so. The mountain spiders followed.

Merideth cursed, unable to get out of the webbing. She'd not lit a torch... "Well, we've got the sunlight now, right?" she'd said. Her cursing was not lady-like.

The fight in the darkness sounded brutal... for the spider. As the paralysis wore off Greppa, he brought sunlight into the room, to witness Athan hauling a 900 pound, deceased hell hunter by two of its legs towards the other two. When he got it back to them, his primal rage drained from him, along with any color his face might have had.

"I think.. I.. overextended.. my.." Athan collapsed.

Greppa freed Merideth, and she healed Athan, but he was still somewhat ashen faced. They rested for a few minutes at most, arguing whether to leave or stay. True to their adrenaline-charged youth, they decided to push on, despite Athan's weariness.

Athan tied one of their torches to the messy spear, and hurled it through the cavern darkness, until it thunked into the far side of the cavern, nearly 60 yards away, and Greppa cast _sunlight_ at that point...

Revealing a monstrous, bloated, 20+ foot wide hell hunter and a veritable sea of spiders surrounding it, at the steps of the cavern shrine to Allas.

The three youths stared at a nightmare come to life. "Hhsethmah hahh soth" it hissed, and a pair of serpent-shaped shadows with eight legs branching from their heads formed from the shadows near it.


----------



## seasong

As a side note: I've changed the name of the Story Hour to "Light Against The Dark". Whether the party decides on that name or not, by the time we'd concluded the Broken Temple (which we have, but you still have to wait for the updates over this next week), it was too appropriate to leave behind.

Yay! I've got a good Story Hour name!


----------



## Caliber

It sounds like rushing into danger is a common player trait.

For being prepared, they sure weren't. Another common player trait.

Sounds like Athan continues to completely beat down on the spiders. Almost feel sorry for the little crawly things. Almost.


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> It sounds like rushing into danger is a common player trait.
> 
> For being prepared, they sure weren't. Another common player trait.



To be fair, it's not so much that they weren't prepared, but that the _spiders_ were prepared. The first fight went so easy because the players surprised the big hell hunter that happened to be hanging out in the cavern with the pool of water in it.

When Greppa was _held_ and the two big browns dropped on them, I got this look, like, "You're gonna kill us now, aren't you?". And, indeed, had Athan not been earth-buffed to heck and back, and raging, the spiders would have had them, hook and sinker. Those preparations didn't make it a cakewalk... they made it survivable.

I like smart monsters.







> Sounds like Athan continues to completely beat down on the spiders. Almost feel sorry for the little crawly things. Almost.



Actually, he wasn't rolling too good. There were a lot of near-misses, and not a single crit the whole fight. I forgot to mention, but he was at 1 hp _with the rage_ when he came dragging the big spider back. Hm.

I'm going to edit that back in. It's vaguely important.


----------



## seasong

I thought y'all might appreciate a cavern map, and the players have now seen all of it, so...

The "entrance hall" opens beneath the tree's roots, has crude steps carved down its length, and is about 50 feet long. The "second chamber" has a big pool of water in the center. The edge of the pool looks like a sink-hole, so it wasn't always like that. The "main chamber" has a pair of huge (30' tall huge) statues of a pair of servants of Allas, one male, one female. Both have spear in hand. There is then a path of placed stones leading between a line of pillars to the far end of the cavern, where the shrine lies.

The shrine itself is a raised dais with steps, pillars at each of four corners, and an "open air" (open to the cavern ceiling) space about 50 feet across. A facade covers it from the front, and a wide door allows passage into it. The back has a second wall, which blocks an otherwise unremarkable view of the back of the cavern.

An alter is in the center of the dais, and the floor is unmarked... although that may have been because of age and wear.

The right side of the "main chamber" cavern has numerous small niches for individual worship.

The raised dais 'conceals' a set of rooms beneath the stone flooring; the door is on the side of the temple, and leads into the small treasury, armory and a barracks-like room.


----------



## incognito

> As a side note: I've changed the name of the Story Hour to "Light Against The Dark".





not "Torches against the Dark"?  or "spears vs. spiders?"

Maybe you just need Chapter numbers, so I can come up with amusing anecdotes...

In other news, per your comments = two pics over in General Forum (I hate picutres).

I do like how Athan leads the spiders away from him.  And I am properly horrfied at the 20+ foot spider, even if he does lisp...you cliff-hanging bastard...


----------



## seasong

And in other other news, I've updated the Rogue's Gallery thread to include Greppa.

Nice pics, btw!


----------



## seasong

*Broken Temple*

Athan, upon later reflection, was pretty sure he'd done the stupidest thing possible. When Greppa's daylight lit up the giant hell hunter, its twin shadow-serpent-spider-things, and the veritable sea of spiders... Athan hefted his second (now only) spear, and charged across the cavern at them all. Rather than be left alone at one end of the cavern, with the killing machine at the other, Merideth ran after him, but kept a careful distance.

Still, stupidest things possible or not, it mostly worked. While the giant spider was trying to work its rear end backwards through the shrine's door and out of the sunlight, Athan skidded between the two serpent things, neatly beheading one with a powerful swipe of his spear and finishing the swing by stabbing it deep into the mouth of the other one. Merideth finished the second one with a hasty _inflict_, and then the spiders were swarming the two.

Greppa held off for a hasty circle and sigil, and Uripedas burst into this realm from the great plains of Allas' realm. She was beautiful, a slender hawk with golden feathers and a faint rim of white fire at the edges. She took one look at Allas' broken temple and, screaming, flew at the giant hell hunter like a burning arrow.

_Then_ Greppa ran after the other two.

-----

Unfortunately, as heroic as all of this was, the hell hunter was not even close to done. Yes, there was a burning mote of divine rage flying around its head; yes, the spear-wielding bringer of death was making his way through the spider horde towards its tender bits... but it was thus far uninjured, and it had a cunning plan.

When they all got close, it summoned pure, chill darkness from its black heart, to freeze them all where they stood. A cone of bleak shadow blasted the young heroes, stealing heat from their marrow...

Merideth nearly died of it. Athan and Greppa suffered dearly. The only good thing to come of it was that the spiders on their bodies were now more of a cloak of brown and grey ice.

And then the spider stepped out of the daylight and seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows inside the shrine. Athan, chilled, halfway to death's door, charged into the shrine after it, Uripedas flying over the wall to help.


----------



## seasong

Sorry the combat is taking so long.  This is the last post of this combat.

*Broken Temple*

The plan was, in fact, pretty cunning. Hell hunters slide through shadows as naturally as breathing, and it fully intended to step beneath the dais and then sneak behind the heroes, while it called more of the large spiders to its aid. One or two more combat spells, and it was fairly certain of its victory.

But, as the young heroes had already learned, no plan survives contact with the enemy, and Greppa was sick and tired of spiders. And shadows. And non-burning webs. And everything else to do with the Hhsethmah and his bloated children.

He called sunlight down inside the temple, just as the hell hunter was attempting to escape. He called sunglight down outside the temple, just in case. Greppa called down Allas' presence, and it shone with divine intensity through most of the nearby cavern, as Uripedas' claws tore into the spider's topside, and Athan's spear pierced its underbelly.

The fight was fierce, silent, bloody. The kids weren't kids anymore, not really. They were seasoned warriors, working in unison. Between Merideth's vicious green lightning, Athan's spearwork, and Greppa's sunhawk and minor fire elementals, the spider did injury, but took more. In the end, it stopped twitching, and in deference, the heroes stopped stabbing the corpse.

And then, light began to fill the cavern. Glass globes began to heal faster, cracks in the walls began to seal. It happened before their eyes - the shrine became a _shrine_ again, and the mountain spiders, a sea of them, began crawling over each other in a wave as they left the cavern for the natural world outside.

When the hell hunter began to burn on its own, igniting and turning into a charcoal husk, it just seemed natural.

_Next: The heroes of Light Against The Dark search for the Stone, and do some things in Theralis, as orcs mass for war._


----------



## incognito

WAR!  It's Fan-Tastic!

That spell casting Hell Hunter was a wussie.  Where was it's _earth armor_

Athan is a juggernaught, eh?  Good thing he ISN'T brighter or he'd realize his tendencies are suicidal.  Gotta love him.

I'm still trying to draw a bead on Greppa's Personality.  If the plyer want;s to shed light, your fans are wondering what makes Greppa tick (besides a mad lust for arcane might).


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> That spell casting Hell Hunter was a wussie.  Where was it's _earth armor_



It wasn't an arcanist - it was a priest of Hhsethmah, who is all about dark places with spiders, not combat. Of course, the 20 points of damage its shadow cone did was pretty good for a noncombat priest, all the same.

No real buffing. That's what it gets for being alone .

And it still almost got a player kill on Merideth.







> Athan is a juggernaught, eh?  Good thing he ISN'T brighter or he'd realize his tendencies are suicidal.  Gotta love him.



It's less a matter of tactics, and more a matter of an 18 year old soldier who feels like he failed in war, and trying to prove to himself that he is, in fact, a courageous and competent warrior.

Between that, and playing up that slightly below average intelligence, he makes a perfect hero .







> I'm still trying to draw a bead on Greppa's Personality.  If the plyer want;s to shed light, your fans are wondering what makes Greppa tick (besides a mad lust for arcane might).



Can't answer for the player, of course, but I'll put in my two cents anyway...

Greppa is an ambitious youngest (and smallest) child. He wants to be heroic. He wants to be powerful. He wants to be all of these things that he never was in a family with seven older (and bigger) sisters.

But he's also a pretty decent kid, and has less of a Napoleon complex than one might expect. His parents are solid people for rich folk, and Hurath did a lot to provide him with a sterling example of civic duty, personal ambition, and fatherly wisdom over the several years of apprenticeship. So he's got Theralis pride, youthful immortality, and big shoes to fill... mixed in with a mild Napoleon complex and a love of magic.


----------



## seasong

Every time I sat down to write about undeath, I got sidetracked into the scholarly side of it. Which no one I know ever wants to read. This is also a topic that I know just a _leetle_ too much about, and that tends to push its way into my writing. In an attempt to satisfy both urges, I've written a few paragraphs of academia at the very end (titled 'Academia'), on the source of the word necromancer and how it influenced my addition of it to this setting, so it's out of the way of the flavor text. Feel free to skip it - it has less to do with Theralis and more to do with 'Thomas can't keep his mouth shut'.

_I know I don't have to say it but... the following is all Out Of Character knowledge. What is known In Character is that necromancers are evil, evil, evil. Burn their books, burn their bodies, burn their towers. Necromancers violate the dead, defy the gods, and will get the afterlife they deserve._

*Necromancy*

Necromancy is an extension of the arts of ESP and healing, and uses facets of both. At its heart, necromancy is the art of working with the spirits of the dead and, to some extent, living and extradimensional spirits. To this end, the necromancer must be able to work with the spirit world (ESP) and life energies (healing).

*What Necromancers Do*

They summon the spirits of the dead, and can converse with them or compel them to answer questions by force of will and ritual. They can open gates into the spiritual realm, and step through it or allow another to do the same. They also do many things similar to espers, and can commune with higher and lower Powers.

They bind the dead back into corpses, and compel the spirits to service. They bind spirits into arms and armor, as a kind of enchantment. They bind spirits into towers, or feed them sufficient life energy to manifest incorporeally and haunt/serve the necromancer. They unbind souls from living bodies.

They use corpses to draw energy from the spirit who once lived in it, or to summon or compel it. They raid funeral urns, tombs and graveyards. They sacrifice living creatures to provide energy to the dead. Blood, as the primary vessel of life energy, is a common element to most necromantic rituals.

The most powerful may bind their own spirit into their own corpse, to achieve a kind of immortality.

*Are Necromancers Evil?*

Sometimes.

When a person dies, they go on to their final reward, usually a particular diety's celestial realm, based on the person's life. The necromancer pulls the spirit, however temporarily, from that realm. Not always willingly. However, the priests of the gods do many of the things that a proper necromancer does (esp. summoning and compelling spirits). They just do so with the stamp of approval of this or that god.

Certainly, the powers of the necromancer are ripe for abuse, and it is easy to see why the common people (who will eventually be at the mercy of such folk) would prefer that these powers be available only to those with the approval of a higher power than "me". And in the Theralis region, there was a very powerful necromancer who fought with the temples of Allas for several years before falling to the forces of the sun... and Allas has spent the intervening centuries since then spreading anti-necromancer propaganda.

*The Oracle of the Dead*

North and west of the Theralis Valleys lies a mountain with a series of caves which are said to lead to the spirit worlds, and the dead. A militant order of monastic devotees, bound to no single god, guard its entrance and make a small profit by intervening on the behalf of mortals who wish to see their loved ones.

Or rather, make an obscene profit, purely with the intent of preventing people from constantly making the pilgrimage.

The Oracle of the Dead is well known to Theralis, although the people of Theralis, in general, view it as distasteful and hateful, and no good citizen of Theralis would work with the monsters who run it. Their business comes primarily from the north, where people are more lax about issues of morality such as bothering the dead.

*Miscellaneous*

An undead zombie or skeleton is a corpse, into which the necromancer has bound the original person's soul, and then compelled it to his bidding. The spirits of the dead are _vastly_ easier to manipulate in the corporeal realm than living spirits, and a necromancer can typically dominate a sizable number of undead by sheer force of will. Of course, as noted above, so can priests. A person's soul can not be abused in this manner more than once; undead who have been freed of their mortal coil can not normally be reainimate again.

Necromancers often become who they are due to an immense thirst for knowledge. The dead know, collectively, more than any library, and many necromancers use them primarily as a resource for knowledge of the past. Some have even established strong relationships with ancient scholars, prophets and other reliquaries of knowledge who are more than happy to pass along their accumulated wisdom. Such necromancers also tend to have immense libraries of their own, and be obsessed with antiquity.

*Academia*

The word 'necromancer' in English has a lot of odd connotations. The word stems from the greek 'nekromanteia' (literally, _corpse divination_), but passed through the Old French 'nigremancie' (black divination) along the way before returning to its 'necro' roots, and has historically been associated with all manner of ills and evils associated with corpses.

Society often confuses pure necromancy with diabolism and other forms of consorting with fiends. Conversely, in late French Arthurian legends, literature treated the word as a romantic system of divination... a possible source of the modern (20th century) seance, where speaking to spirits doesn't seem quite as horrific as it might have in the dim origins of necromancy.

Biblical (English translation) usage is even more twisted. The word 'necromancy' is used as the translation for the art of forcefully interrogating the dead, in the hopes of gaining insight into the future. Since those spirits who go to heaven can not be forced to return by any means, and will not reveal aught of God's plan even when they do return, that means speaking to the damned. And if you think you're getting a good deal by speaking with one of the damned, just remember that they're getting a good deal from their masters by speaking with you.

As has been pointed out before, Theralis is strongly influenced by the Greeks, so I tried to return a bit to the roots of 'corpse divination' and at least make a nod to the hellenic idea of speaking with the dead. I also wanted to draw on some of the Greek words used in necromantic papyri - 'skênos' means 'corpse', but it also means 'tent'; 'skyphos' means 'skull' and also 'drinking cup'.

I also wanted to include something like the nekromanteio oracle, only without trickery. In Greek history/mythology, this is where Herakles and Orpheus both travelled to to enter Hades. That meant that necromancy had to be something ambiguous (rather than simply evil as it is in D&D), that priests used (under a different name) as well as the vile and socially outcast necromancers.

And I wanted to tie in a few bits and pieces of necromantic lore (like the roman and medieval belief that spirits were attracted to spilled blood, and that spilling blood in a pit made it easier to attract them up from the depths of the earth, because it was closer to them). And I still wanted to keep some of the conventions of the fantasy necromancer, from animated corpses (which may have originally stemmed from fanciful paintings of sorcerors speaking to spirits) to lichdom.

I've had magic that allowed occasional speaking with the dead, or magikinetically animating corpses, but this is the first setting that I've really had _necromancers_, and I wanted to do them right.


----------



## seasong

*The Temple of Allas*

There were no more spiders. _No more spiders!_ Greppa was practically beside himself in glee, as the youths went through the temple. Merideth continued to remind everyone of the couplet that went, "Aught you find..." until Athan and Greppa were about ready to leave off searching.

Still, they did go through the shrine, the rooms underneath it, the rest of the cavern, and cleaned up or burned away spider webs as they found them... but no spiders. There were some suspicious looking, deep holes, but they were too narrow to really check, even for Greppa, and it seemed that the spiders had well and truly left.

Even the briefest of searches revealed some oddities about the cave shrine. For one, it was a cave, not something normally associated with Allas; but more importantly, were the weapons. The temples to Allas that the youths were familiar with were practically pacifistic, with one or two 'warriors of the sun' wandering about... but this shrine had enough spears and cloaks for an orc warband.

They resolved to ask the next priest of Allas they saw, and continued the search. Before long, the sunglobes began to dim, and glow deep red and orange, as the sun set outside the caverns. Athan admired the effect, while Greppa and Merideth continued to "find aught".

The Stone was not found, but Greppa had already figured out where it was. When Athan expressed frustration about not finding it, Greppa just grinned...

"I thought we were looking for aught... but it should be right here..." and he pushed his fingers through the char of the last hell hunter, until they hit the solidity of the Stone.

Athan and Merideth just stared at him.

"What!? It was obvious."

And with that, he hauled it out. Or rather, tried to. It weighed more than two thirds what Greppa did, so he more rolled it out. Now it was Athan's turn to grin, as he nearly effortlessly hefted it up, and began tying rope around it, to yoke over his shoulder.

-----

'Aught' turned out to be a pretty fair haul. Thirty _very_ high quality spears, the same number of cloaks (all white silk, with a brooch of Allas' symbol), several potions of the same sort as Hurath's (and neatly labelled 'healing draughts', unlike those from Hurath's messy desk), a small chest of coin, some Allas-marked armbands and some ancient wine bottles (that were likely more vinegar bottles now). One of the spears, although of the same quality as the others, was obviously the leader's - it had a pair of loops for a pennant near the head of the shaft, and a crossbar beneath the blade for catching a charge.

To Merideth's disappointment, there were no swords - she wanted something like Captain Agina had, but apparently priests didn't rate.

Athan took as many of the spears as he could carry, including the leader spear, and Merideth took most of the healing draughts, but it was otherwise equally distributed. Everyone took one of the white cloaks, Athan and Greppa both took a potion or two, and the rest was saleable goods.

Finally, night having long since fallen, they stepped out of the cavern temple and looked at the stars.


----------



## seasong

Just letting everyone know I've updated the character sheets for 4th level. I also added some commentary on their advancement.


----------



## incognito

hack, hack, hack - enough if this happy, go-lucky role-play!

the players are now properly clothed with cloaks; no more Athan oggling (whew!)  

What's the dealy-o with these "White silk cloak w/Allas' symbol brooch " claoks.

Magic? "Quality?  A fashion Statement? 3 of 3?

you are all playing this weekend?


----------



## seasong

More roleplaying to come . Priestess of Allas, Hurath's Tower, and a kobold with a mission from, uh, dragon.

Then war.

Then visiting the folks (probably one post per character), and a trip north with wine traders!

As for the cloaks: The cloaks, and the special spear, all showed up as magical. The _real_ reason they're wearing the cloaks, however, is because Merideth decided wearing a "cloak of Allas' favor" while on a mission for Her was kewl, and Greppa and Athan agreed. I think, after the dream, the mission, and the fight with the hell hunters, they feel like they've earned a bit of flash and status with Allas.

They were wearing knee-length tunics before, so they weren't exactly unclothed.


----------



## seasong

*RP: Community*

When they got back, the small yard around Hurath's tower was clean. Not only clean, but _trimmed_, and a new door was leaned against the outer wall, next to the one Athan had bashed in. Cautiously, they checked the tower, but no one had been inside, nor had anything else been done. A pair of new hinges lay on the ground next to the door. 

And as they considered this oddity, a few of Hurath's neighbors came puffing up the slope, tools in hand.

In the few days the youths had been gone, the community had decided to repay them for stopping the "livestock thieves" by prettying up the overgrown yard and commissioning a new door. Which they now set to installing with a cheerful air.

Athan stepped in and lent a hand, although his craftsmanship was more a matter of holding what he was told, and Greppa chatted with them about Hurath (still no sign of him). They let him know that he (and friends) were welcome, and asked if there was anything they could do. Merideth, awkwardly, stood at the edges of both.

Greppa looked at his military tunic, starting to look a bit thin, "Well, we need to buy some clothes... do you know anyone we could hire to fit us?"

Sometime later, dressed in civilian attire once again, the three heroes left for the city temple of Allas... Greppa had overheard that it was also called "Kept by Allas", which was as close to "keep" as he could figure.


----------



## seasong

Athan, Greppa and Merideth never intended to keep their tunics as long as they did, and indeed, the tunics barely fit them now, but they just kept rushing about. This little chunk of text is devoted to their new outfits.

_Fair warning to incognito and other sensitives: nudity is mentioned ._

*Clothing, Style, and the Military*

*Military*

The military uniform is a knee-length tunic, sandals, and equipment (primarily a spear). Soldiers are expected to cover the distances between valleys, sprint up mountains, and wade through rivers. This mobility, combined with narrow passes and good shieldwork, is the core of the Theralis military engine - the ability to devote soldiers to one spot, knowing they can be moved swiftly to another in need.

It's not very stylish, and it won't keep out the winter chill, but it also won't weigh a soldier down.

*Basic Apparel*

In Theralis, there are four basic types of apparel: tunic and jacket, throw-over, shirt and pants, and cloak. There are myriad cuts of each of these, however, and different connotations with each.

Although the military does not, most people wear loincloths in non-athletic contexts. A loincloth is (in this case) a long, rectangular strip of cloth, with a cloth strip woven through one end of the length. You hang the cloth behind you, tie the strip around your waist, tuck the length under you and then tuck it into the tie.

Women have a similar system for supporting their breasts, using a long strip of cloth. With the center of the cloth at the middle of their back, they wrap it around the front, and then up over the shoulders, to be tied behind their neck.

*Tunic and Jacket*

A basic tunic covers the arms and torso completely, and stretches down to somewhere between the knees and the ankles. It hangs straight from the shoulders down (wider at the feet than the shoulders). A person can run in it, but would have to hitch it up to sprint.

The jacket is cut identically to the tunic, but is thicker (often quilted cloth) and open at the front. The jacket usually has stiff cuffs at the end of the arms, and a stiff hem at the neck and bottom. The front of a jacket usually binds in some fashion from neck to just beneath the sternum, but not below that.

The tunic and jacket can be worn for practically anything except strenuous athletics (which are usually done nude), and is considered acceptable dress most places.

Peasant tunics are usually heavy, crude cloth; their jackets are quilted of the same. Craftsmanship is usually good, however, and a peasant outfit is plenty sturdy. In winter, most wear a heavier, wool jacket with a quilted cloth interior, for maximum warmth and comfort. Peasant jackets are usually bound in front with leather straps.

Middle class tunics are typically fine cloth, and are often dyed and colorful; their jackets are finely quilted, and often have family patterns that have been passed down. Among wealthy merchants, wine tasters and others with too much free time and money, both are often a bit more fitted to the body, and may have embroidery.

Upper class and temple tunics are often made of silk; the jackets are usually cotton-padded silk with criss-cross stitchery. The upper class typically has their clothes dyed with elaborate artistic patterns, and carefully fitted to flatter the body, while temple tunics are more often plain and straight as peasants (just of better materials).

Some style variations: The jacket cuffs are often so long that they cover the entire forearm, and resemble a stiff-cloth bracer covering the end of the arms. Deep forest hunters have been known to make their jacket of browned leather with a padded interior, rather than wear a leather cloak for rain. Prostitutes in Theralis tend to wear one of two variations, either a shorter tunic (mid thigh) or a full length tunic that fits too tightly. Scholars tend to have looser sleeves with a second, inner sleeve that they can tuck a quill or scroll into. Among the Council, a stiff collar that encircles the neck is common on tunics, with a wider than needed neck on the jacket.

*Throw-Over*

A throw-over is a drapery which is hung from the left shoulder, spread out across the back and chest, and belted at the waist. It is worn almost exclusively in the vineyards, and is considered "work clothes" by most citizens of the Theralis Valleys. most are very plain, and use rope as a belt.

*Pants and Shirt*

Considered barbarian apparel (orcs, for example, wear leggings and a hide shirt/vest), some of the more wilderness-oriented citizens of Theralis nonetheless wear this kind of clothing. Pants are straight-legged, and held up by a rope belt; shirts are usually a kind of tunic, shortened to the waist to keep out of the way of the legs, and tucked into the pants.

*Cloaks*

Most cloaks are weather shields, made of cheap leather, rubbed-in oil, and leather straps in front. The typical cut of a cloak is a thicker shoulder yoke, with a large hood on top and the rest of the cloak hanging straight down from the yoke. Most are bound in front in the same manner as a jacket.

Despite their utilitarian nature, however, cloaks are often used by religious orders and the very wealthy to make statements. Both often produce and wear cloaks which have no utility in bad weather at all, constructed of silk or soft cloths. Some also use a brooch at the front, rather than standard bindings, in order to provide a place for additional symbols.


----------



## seasong

*The Kept of Allas*

Built into a narrow dip in the mountainside, this temple consists of a smooth, flat patch of granite on encircled by arches topped by a walkway. The walkway is twenty feet high, and is supported by 36 pillars, each carved as one of the greatest servants of Allas. By Theralis standards, it's not particularly impressive, being mostly an open-air collection of the mason's art, but it is sufficient for Thelanna, its guardian and caretaker.

Thelanna is a deep-voiced _ellini_ woman with a deep tan and myriad freckles competing for space with the wrinkles of age. She is shorter and smaller than Greppa, but seems to stand taller. As the heroes approach, she raises one hand, palm upward to the sky, and intones softly, "Sun above, sight below, as it was lost, is now returned, in the hands of the cloaked guardians."

Then, with less force, "Welcome to the Kept of Allas. I dreamed of you, and hoped it was true. Please, come in, let me take your burdens and speak with you of your heroic acts."

Merideth flushes with pleasure at her words, and Athan, despite his carefree handling of the stone's weight, looks as if more than its meager mass has lifted from his broad shoulders. Greppa watches carefully as Thelanna grunts with the weight of the stone, but seems intent on other things.

They tell Thelanna the story of their dreams, and their travel to the tree, and its opening, of spiders and shadows and sun. And when they are done, Thelanna repays their story with the history of the lost temple.

When her story is done, Athan grimaces, "We should have come here first. We'd have at least known about the spiders ahead of time."

Greppa nods, "And maybe gotten some backup."

"And the potions identified."

"And maybe a few more potions."

"Not to mention better clothes."

Thelanna finally interrupted, "Heroes, please, you did well! Do not recriminate yourselves, for you will know better in the future. And know that you are welcome in this temple, and any other of Allas. We deeply appreciate your aid to us this day."

Merideth then brought up an issue that had been bothering her, "I'm sorry to ask this, but we brought a lot of stuff out with us, and we wanted to know if you... ah.. needed any of it?"

"No, hero, Allas promised true. We are no longer warlike enough to need spear or cloak, and you have earned both. The funds were long lost to us already, and there was naught there that we really need. The stone is a far greater prize to us than the equipment of a long-lost military order. Keep it, and my blessing."

After that, the young heroes paid a tenth as tithe (regardless of whether or not it was "needed"), and headed back to the tower. Merideth was already talking about the next great adventure, and Greppa was quietly steering it towards "search for Hurath".


----------



## seasong

*The Loss of the Stone*

In the year 252, there was a great arcanist, more powerful than any other of his time, who was tempted by a dark god of unknown origin into necromancy. Once the staunch ally of Turin, hero of Theralis, he turned away from his friends and delved deeper into the forbidden arts. His name was Shuurso.

Eventually, his mad pursuit of power led him into evil acts, as it always does, and he bound his own ancestors into the skins of their corpses, that he might speak to them.

He was discovered, and the servants of Allas, who were far more militant in that age, fought a mighty war with the necromancer. They won, but not before he committed a final, indecent act. He opened a permanent portal into the infernal realm of spiders, and brought forth hell hunter generals who marshalled thousands of mountain spiders, and sent them scurrying after the Suncave.

A mighty battle was fought, but the spiders prevailed, and the temple was sealed off by the final act of the high priest, that the Stone might be lost, but not stolen.

Then Shuurso bound spells around the cavern, that it could not be scried out or otherwise found, and it was lost to time. Although the priests of Allas prayed for wisdom, Allas chose to leave the Stone hidden from those who had failed to defend it, until now.


----------



## Caliber

Very cool backstory. Maybe I missed it though, but what WAS the stone exactly? Aside from a Holy Relic of Allas that is.


----------



## incognito

> Women have a similar system for supporting their breasts, using a long strip of cloth.




What?  No Vicky's Secret?!  What kinda game are you running here!



> Thelanna is a deep-voiced ellini woman with a deep tan and myriad freckles...[snip]...Greppa watches carefully as Thelanna grunts with the weight of the stone




That's no woman - that's a man, baby!  Yeah!



> Eventually, his mad pursuit of power led him into evil acts




...like lying about his bowling score?  How evil we talkin' here?

 Sorry for the offhand comments - I'm a little puchy after working until 1AM, then back in the office at 8...


----------



## seasong

> _originally posted by Caliber_
> Maybe I missed it though, but what WAS the stone exactly?



About 60 pounds.

*ba da dum*

Okay, more seriously... Myth has surprisingly little to say about it, other than that a powerful necromancer, centuries ago, made destroying or burying it his highest priority, and a snippet from a poem found on a temple story-wall of "the sunstone, that which brought day to deepest night". And that it was in use by a more militant order of Allas.

The safest bet is that the Stone has some combat utility against undead.


----------



## incognito

I am curious about the necromancer guy - besides the binding of his ancestors (hey, at least he kept it in the family), can we get soem insight into his political schemeing, or evil acts?


----------



## seasong

*A Kobold's Mission*

An evening later, as the young heroes relaxed at the tower and plotted their next move, there was a banging at the tower door. It was the kid of a neighbor, and he was grinning and speaking near-gibberish... but they caught "kobold" and "city center" and "message", and took off like a shot.

Well, Athan and Merideth did. Greppa ran as quickly as he could.

When they arrived, the kobold had not yet arrived at the city center, and a massive crowd had arisen. Their first good look at a kobold, he was a delicate, tiny humanoid, covered in dark red scales, with massive amber eyes, razor teeth, and a brow ridge of spikes. He was dressed in a throw-over of jet black silks, and carried an ebony walking stick. He walked with stately grace for one so small, and largely ignored the gathering people.

When at last he arrived, he stepped into the center, and clapped his hands together. A circle of flame slowly widened out from his position, and Theralese citizens stumbled over each other getting out of its way. When he had a sizable area around him, he spoke.

"Dwellers in the city of Amalan's valleys, I bring you both warnings and thanks. In your war, you have observed the old treaties well. Amalan's friendship with your people is strengthened by this, and He thanks you for your respect."

"However, He also knows that war is a time of great temptation, and asks that you not, in desparation, forget the bonds forged in centuries of friendship between your people and Him. Do not think that such things can be escaped, as these orcs once did."

And with that, he claps his hands together again, and speaks words in the dragon's tongue, and the area the kobold stands in is covered in a vast image of the lands outside the valleys. In it, the people can see orcs cutting down trees and using them as battering rams against the shield wall. Then, abruptly, it shifts... and Athan, Greppa and Merideth recognize the valley where they were slaves, and the Bunahken drums.

There is carnage. The dragon Amalan rips through the tribe like a hurricane.

After, there is silence. The kobold is gone, having disappeared when the image manifested. Questions are voiced in wavering tones, but not because the message was not clear.

Greppa, however, focuses on something else, and raises his voice to be heard, "So does this mean the orcs will be attacking us soon? Otherwise, why send this message now?"


----------



## incognito

> Greppa, however, focuses on something else, and raises his voice to be heard, "So does this mean the orcs will be attacking us soon? Otherwise, why send this message now?"




Gotta love Greppa: Hey guys - do you hear drums banging, or it is just me?

I'll be pretty happy to see Greppa make a better accounting of himself vs. those Orcs this time too


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> I am curious about the necromancer guy - besides the binding of his ancestors (hey, at least he kept it in the family), can we get soem insight into his political schemeing, or evil acts?



A scholar deeply interested in the topic, with tons of obscure, original records on hand, might figure out a few things, but Allas and her priests have done a bangup job of obscuring things related to the necromancer.

A few things are documented: he rose to greater power when he became a necromancer, and attempted to gain political power locally (as a council member). He never got along particularly well with the Allas priests (written as: "his propensity for evil steadily increased"), and when he started doing some things they considered vile (binding the dead, etc.), that enmity flared up into a real political struggle, which eventually became an outright war between his corpses and their soldiers. After he destroyed/buried their cavern temple, the hero Turin was brought in. Turin killed Shuurso, but nothing is known of the battle itself (although plenty of storytellers have filled in the gaps with their imaginings).

The sad fact is that really, none of the above is completely certain, and none of the players are deeply immersed scholars of Theralis history, nor have they sought one out on this minor footnote of their adventure. And why should they? It's ancient history, the Stone is returned, and there are orcs who need sandal leather applied to their posteriors.

So think upon it no more. (wiggles fingers hypnotically)


----------



## J. Anson

*Love the necro*



			
				seasong said:
			
		

> *Which no one I know ever wants to read.*




I'm hurt. I eat that stuff up...



> *Necromancers often become who they are due to an immense thirst for knowledge.*




There is no other reason, and I'd bet dollars to donuts - were I a bettin' man - that Greppa is going to slide down this slippery slope at some point, in part because he begins to feel, as a hero, to have access to ethical powers of consideration not available to the rest of Theralis, and in part because there's some lost tidbit of information he's just _dying_ to know (Hurath seemed to know a lot...).

You listening, Hank?


----------



## seasong

*Re: Love the necro*



			
				J. Anson said:
			
		

> There is no other reason, and I'd bet dollars to donuts - were I a bettin' man - that Greppa is going to slide down this slippery slope at some point, in part because he begins to feel, as a hero, to have access to ethical powers of consideration not available to the rest of Theralis, and in part because there's some lost tidbit of information he's just _dying_ to know (Hurath seemed to know a lot...).



Well now, we have one bet for Merideth heading into necromancy, and one bet for Greppa. Anyone care to lay odds on Athan?

BTW, my apologies - I didn't mean to indicate that I did not know any scholarly individuals, merely that my academic (non-narrative) writing is not particularly interesting.


----------



## incognito

> (non-narrative) writing is not particularly interesting.




Except for the history channel, and the discovery channel, and the TLC...

Bring it! seasong-san...


----------



## Greybar

I'll throw in another vote of love for the sidebars...

John


----------



## Caliber

You know we're all nerds here.

Bring the acadamia on!

And personally I see Meredith becoming a Necromancer more than Greppa.

Sure Greppa wants the knowledge, but Meredith is a natural!


----------



## J. Anson

Caliber said:
			
		

> *And personally I see Meredith becoming a Necromancer more than Greppa.*




Hmmm.  Looks like we're going to have to start a pool, bettin' man or not. C'mon Greppa, daddy needs a new pair of shoes!

Guess it's time now to ask for the next update?


----------



## snownoir

*Re: Love the necro*



			
				J. Anson said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 
> You listening, Hank?  *




*tries to blink innocently and fails horribly because of the wry grin*

I don't know what you're talking about Matt. After all I only do what I do for the good of The People.....

*yeah, that'll throw off suspision*


P.S. Incognito, I haven't forgotten your question about Greppa's motivations. I'm saving that post after Thomas updates things on the orc war.


----------



## incognito

> P.S. Incognito, I haven't forgotten your question about Greppa's motivations.




Thank you sir!

Oh, another Q. for Meredith's player - I cannot rememebr if she is any kind of attractive - those small town girls sometimes are veeeery eye-catching, you know...


----------



## Occam's Nail File

*Necro-tastic!*

I've been all busy and stuff and just got around to looking for updates here after much time, but hey, better late than never.  I'll chime in with my love of sidebars here as well, and place my bet on Greppa to study necromancy- at some point, some ancient secrets will come up, and something horrible that could have been avoided if only he'd been able to ask the corpses strewn in front of the cave... (other methods for avoiding the horrible in the cave have been well discredited of course) and that'll be it.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Oh, another Q. for Meredith's player - I cannot rememebr if she is any kind of attractive - those small town girls sometimes are veeeery eye-catching, you know...



The answer lies here (age 15):







			
				seasong said:
			
		

> A pale, willowy girl with an unruly shock of short black hair and dark eyes. Still awkward looking, but reasonably pretty. Has the birthmark on her left calf.



Over the last few years (1 year Service, 1 year slave), she's grown up a bit, so she's considerably less awkward, and a good deal prettier, but she's unlikely to be called a true beauty. She's demonstrated a lot of courage in bad circumstances, and that probably shows in her posture - where she started slouched over and servile, she now stands tall and fierce, but at 17, she still doesn't entirely control her long limbs and hasn't fully matured in the facial bones.

She no longer looks like a servant girl from Southbottom, however. She stands straight, eyes full of challenge, doesn't know her place... not that she _ever_ really did. With the white silks of Allas, she actually does cut something like the figure of a budding hero.

Athan, of course, looks like a handsome young man with heroic jut of jaw and flashing eyes.

Greppa, as an _ellini_, still looks about 15. He'd make the hispanic girls swoon with his slender, gracile looks, but he lacks any visible maturity other than the set of his shoulders and stubborn, steady gaze. More precocious-looking than anything.


----------



## seasong

BTW, thanks everyone for chiming in on the _academia_ at the end of the necromancy section. I'm a nerd with some modicum of social skills, which primarily means I learned to repress talking about stuff like that around other people - "no one wants to know how Hsethmah is inspired by a combination of Lucifer's Fall (Hebrew) and the Castration of Uranus (Greco-roman)" is what the voice in my head says, continuing with "and for goodness' sake, don't prattle on about how both relate to the Venus Cult."

Ugh. Such a confessional this post is!

Anyway, thanks. It seems a small thing, but it really made my day this morning when I logged on and read that some of you don't mind my nerdy prattling .


----------



## GreyShadow

seasong said:
			
		

> *Anyway, thanks. It seems a small thing, but it really made my day this morning when I logged on and read that some of you don't mind my nerdy prattling . *




I'm enjoying all the nerdy prattling!  I say keep the prattling coming. 

Cheers


----------



## seasong

*Battle of Theralis Ridge*

The people of Theralis are a frontier people with a strong military tradition. Centuries ago, they established the Year of Service for all youths who would be considered adults, and every able-bodied adult, male or female, has some skill with spear or shield. Youths fight in tournaments of skill with staff and unarmed combat, run sprinting races upmountain, test each other's strength in cold mountain streams and feats of rock lifting. Nor does the harsh wilderness bordering Theralis on all sides give pause for rest in age - whether gathering in teams to hunt a black hound that has moved in, or surviving a winter avalanche, the city-state is filled with tough, capable people who thrive at it.

These tough, capable people were now focused on and preparing for the coming battles.

*A Herd of Cats*

Greppa sat near the back and kept his mouth shut. He was in a small tavern requisitioned as a meeting place for the Theralis mages. After signing up as a citizen-soldier, he'd been directed here. He wasn't nervous about where he would be assigned - he was nervous about meeting some of the famous people in the room.

Near the front, with space accorded him out of respect, sat Kyriotes, easily the most powerful arcanist in Theralis (and possibly beyond) and a specialist in the art of summoning. Next to him sat two of his former students, and _their_ students, all summoning specialists as well. Kyriotes had missed the last war, as he'd been deep in the southern wilderness at the time. Rumor said that he'd brought back some ancient lore, possibly spells of the ancients.

A few rows behind him, sat an earthy, older woman named Inertas, another powerful arcanist, although less specialized than Kyriotes. She'd been in Theralis last year, and had worked with the elite shock troops to break up knots of successful orcs. She'd taught Hurath, but been disappointed in his lack of ambition.

Greppa just wanted some way to approach them without looking like a drooling kitten.

For Merideth, it all seemed a waste of time. She knew where she would end up - backrow healers - and she knew how little action she'd see, so the excitement of the others was somewhat lost on her. The healers comprised slightly more than half the thirty spell casters in the room, so she wasn't able to stand out as she might have wanted.

Both paid attention, however, as Lukretia, general of the Theralis troops, walked in and stepped to the tavern's tiny stage. She was taller than most Theralese by a handspan, with broad muscled shoulders barely stooped with age. Her hair was pale grey and her skin mottled, but her eyes were like a pair of dark blue spears set in a face that barely contained them.

"I am not one for fancy speeches. The orcs are coming. We will destroy those that do not flee. We will harry those that do. To achieve that, your help will be essential, whether you are enhancing our numbers with healing, enhancing our spear strength with spells, or unleashing energy on targetted warbands."

"We will be dividing you into groups based on what we need, and what you can do best. You will then work with your group on specifics."

"The groups we are using are Tactical, Force and Flanking. Some specific assignments will differ from this, but those are the main ones. Healers are in Tactical. Illusionists are in Tactical. Arcanists with soldier-enhancing spells will be in Force. We need as many of you as possible, regardless of your other abilities - a fireball is nice, but after rest breaks are accounted for, a boosted soldier will dish out far more death. Any arcanists who are unable to boost soldiers directly should report to Flanking."

"Tactical will focus on boosting our effective numbers by healing, producing illusions of backup troops, and removing the wounded from the battlefield. We will present to the orcs the image of an unstoppable, larger force. I want them to wet their furs when they see us, and I want them to lose hope of killing us. If we lose no soldiers at all, Tactical will have done their job."

"Force will focus on enhancing the ability of our soldiers to kill orcs. Demipossessions, kinetic shielding, fiery weapons, whatever you have. Our best soldiers will be jumping in and out of battle and being healed, and I want you to strengthen them as much as possible. Even small boosts may add another orc or two to the death toll."

"Flanking will provide morale busting. You won't be able to do as much damage over the course of a day, but you can do heinous amounts of damage in short bursts - I want to maximize those bursts to make the orcs fear them."

"Divide yourselves up. My captains will take over the individual groups. Thank you for your time."

After that, assignments were quick and efficient. Greppa chafed at his, however - he'd been paired with Force, which he expected, but he'd been dropped in with a bunch of young arcanists who could barely cast, while more experienced arcanists were grouped with Inertas in the elite shock troops. Despite arguing with the captain (or perhaps because of it), he stayed with the second stringers.

Merideth, of course, was grouped with the healers.

*Athan's Planning*

Athan, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. A small group of career soldiers had invited him and several other youths they'd observed at Eastpass last year to a small get together. Gathered around one of the few "open" tavern hearths, they drank good wine, sang fighting songs, and worked their way through most of the haunch of some poor cow.

Then, the soldiers made an offer.

"The cap'n is thinnin' our ranks a bit, splittin' us up to cover a larger front, and we'll be needin' some talented youths to cover the gaps. The cap'n told us to find them's we thought could do the job, an' trust to do it right."

"We didn' tell you, but we're the _Keraunesti_*. We saw each o' you at Eastpass, an' knew you'd be good for this, if you want it. What say you?"

Not one of the youths hesitated.

"HELLS YES!"

*_Keraunesti translates, roughly, as "thunderbolter", or "those who are a thunderbolt". This is one of the groups of elite shock troops who break up knots of too-successful orcs, wading into battle with the biggest and best the enemy has to offer. There are other shock troops, but most would argue that the Keraunesti team is the best of those. It's also the most dangerous._

After, the Keraunesti explained their basic tactics and methods, and how to avoid death while doing the most dangerous job in the military. When talk turned to spell casters, Athan knew his friends would want in. The soldier explained the basic setup:

"Since we go out inna middle o' the enemy, we can't keep the healers behind us - we gotta bring 'em with us. That means coverin' them with yer own body if need be. Remember, they can fix you, but you can't fix them. We handpick 'em, too - has to be someone we trust, not someone who might choke or falter when they's spears comin' in at all directions."

Athan spoke up, "I don't know if you've already picked them, but I know at least two, they fought with me when I got this cloak. I've never seen either lose their head under threat."

One of the other Keraunesti nodded, "One o' those wouldn' be Hurath's studen', would he?" And at Athan's affirmative, "Well, I saw him at battle. The spells he were castin' were no good, but if he's learned some good ones since then, he seemed a cool head. An' the other?"

When all was said and done, Athan had managed to get his friends into the most dangerous place available in the war. As happy as he could be, Athan ran off to tell them the good news.

In the distance, orcs were on the move.


----------



## seasong

_Note: I didn't write it up below, but shortly before the battle, Captain Agina spoke to the Keraunesti Captain (Captain Morphalles, a burly man of immense strength and hard eyes). The young heroes of Allas snuck off quickly and quietly during the conversation, and then Agina left. What the conversation was about, they don't know._

*Battle of Theralis Ridge*

When the orcs finally arrived, Theralis was prepared. Runners had been set up, and these sprinted down through the city, raising the alarm at the top of their lungs. Like a well-oiled sword sliding from its scabbard, citizens emerged from their homes and jogged upslope and into position. By the time the orc tribes were halfway up the mountain, a tight wall of shields stretched along the length of the ridge, and spears prickled out from behind.

Greppa was placed in the center of the Keraunesti, and began casting Earth's Strength on the shield carriers until exhausted. The spell would last for hours, and helped fight the weariness they would face and the shoving of desparate orcs. Merideth, beside him, set her face in a grim mask and prepared to heal for all she was worth. Athan stood in the second line, bracketed by more experienced soldiers, where he was to use his spear to open defenses in the orcs for the other two to stab into. He was wielding the spear from the temple, and carried himself with courage.

Five thousand Theralese, most citizen-soldiers, awaited the orcs with spear, shield and spell. Five time their number in orcs swarmed up the mountainside... Greppa's eyes, and a good many others', widened momentarily in alarm. The orcs were attacking _en masse_, a crushing wave of meat and bone and spear. The few dozen healers stepped in closer to the front lines, fearing the worst.

Then *impact*.

The shield wall buckled, faltered, held. Morphalles (the Keraunesti Captain) quickly spotted the orcs doing the most hurt and the band of soldiers charged into the fray. The shield line parted for the Keraunesti, and a warband of orcs, the best warriors of their tribe, suddenly found themselves facing the threshing machine of Theralis. It was brutal, ugly, short. One of the youths with the Keraunesti was stabbed in the gut, and Merideth healed it; a veteran took a near-lethal wound to the windpipe, and Merideth sealed it as best she could and pulled him from the front. Then the orcs simply died.

The Keraunesti moved on, hunting the next trouble section.

A roar went up from the Theralese troops. They'd been hit hard, but they were holding. And the orcs were not so fierce when pinned down by tight shield and spear work.

And then Kyriotes began unleashing his spells, at the crux of wavering orc morale. First, a fifty foot stone python that slithered with frightening rapidity through the Theralis line and swallowed orcs whole and crushed their warbands. Next, a firelion, a cat-like creature seven feet at the shoulder, with a mane of fire and eyes aflame. It lept over the Theralese lines in a single bound, and began tearing into orcs, occasionally breathing gouts of flame.

As Kyriotes began summoning a second firelion, orc spears glanced against the shields he'd raised earlier. He glared at the warband that had dared, and sent the second firelion after _them_. No one else dared, even though Kyriotes sat down suddenly after that, exhausted by his efforts.

The damage was done. The orcs fled, Theralese spears nicking their hides as they ran. The battle, at least for the moment, was over.

*Nightfall*

Morphalles gather the Keraunesti together.

"The orcs are going to attack tonight. I've spoken with the other Captains, and we've arranged a bit of a surprise for them. In case it goes sour, however, we're going to be sleeping on the killing slope. Sleep light, and may the gods watch over us."

The majority of the night was spent fitfully, and then the heroes were being shaken awake. They looked downslope and could just barely make out a few of the orc warbands, stealthily creeping up the slope. Everyone readied their spears, but Morphalles ordered them to wait.

Then a number of priests of Allas, brought in for this single purpose, called down daylight across the entire span of the orc line. The orcs were blinded, an immensely visible. With a single shouted order, spears arced through the air into the orcs, followed by fireballs into the knots of the most numerous survivors. Greppa managed to nail an orc with _flame servant_.

The orcs fled.

*The Storm*

The orcs tried a final tactic. Unwilling to cut down trees, they gathered in a knot of several hundred, and rushed one section of the wall. The strongest, unarmed and defended only by their brothers, grabbed tight hold of the individual shields in the shield wall and pulled them up and into the mass of orcs; their brothers then stabbed the shield carriers.

The orcs had broken through the line, and were making a beeline for Kyriotes.

The Keraunesti immediately began sprinting in a vain attempt to intercept the far faster orcs, and arcanists forgot their roles and began to throw fireballs into the heart of the Theralis military. Some orcs died; more humans did. And meanwhile, more orcs were hauling ass upmountain to take advantage of heads turned rearward to see the first band.

Kyriotes, however, did not lose his head. He summoned a giant eagle, who lifted him into the sky and upmountain. When it dropped him off, he sent it after the orcs yet to arrive, both to hurt them and to warn the others of the second wave.

Then the Keraunesti got to the orcs, and savagely ripped into them. The battle after that was a blur of confrotation after confrontation. Orcs died, but there were so many it was hard to tell if their numbers were diminished.

By the end of the day, the Theralis military was hurting badly, and the Keraunesti had lost a sizable chunk of their force despite Merideth's best efforts. Still, the soldiers were cheerful. The orcs seemed to be losing. And healers were moving through the ranks even now, undoing the orc's hard work, while illusionists brought "reinforcements" in to mingle with the troops.

A day later, the orcs simply left.


----------



## Esiminar

I would love to see the stats for the various summoned creatures.


----------



## seasong

Esiminar said:
			
		

> I would love to see the stats for the various summoned creatures.



Really, they're more special for their descriptions than anything else. Where possible, I use pre-existing creatures with some fine-tuning and sometimes different special abilities. The hell hunter, for example, is "merely" a Monstrous Spider with infernal abilities and high intelligence. Still, here's how I built the summoned creatures:

The firelion is essentially a lion, shifted one step to Huge (with appropriate modifiers to STR, AC, HP), with 2d6 fire breath (60 degree 5 foot cone, 5 round recharge), DR 3 (10 vs fire), and just enough intelligence to be really dangerous in its home plane.

The stone python is a straight up Giant Constrictor Snake, shifted one step to Gargantuan, with DR 3 (10 vs earth) and a bit higher STR. Intelligence ranges from low to stupid.

Both are CR 5 in my campaign, although the stone python is at the high end and the firelion is at the low end. As summoned creatures go, however, they are pretty well balanced. The stone python can take a lot more damage, and makes a much better soak wall for the spell caster, while the firelion can dish out a lot more. Against orcs, the firelion killed more than the stone python.

The giant eagle is just an eagle, shifted two steps to Large. Nothing particularly interesting about it, other than that it can carry a grown human (STR 18). It's about CR 3, and did pitifully in fighting the orcs - it was primarily useful in this situation for Kyriotes' retreat.


----------



## Esiminar

Thats great, thanks!


----------



## seasong

*Intermission*

After the orcs seemed to be gone for sure, Athan had a chat with the other two... "I need to visit my parents before we set out again."

Greppa nodded, "I could use a visit home, too. Heck, I don't think my family even knows I made it back from Eastpass yet."

Athan goggled, but Merideth just grinned, "I know mine don't. I suppose if you two are going to be responsible, I should be too."

And that was that. Greppa took an extra day to find a wine seller travelling north, and arrange a position as guards, but otherwise all three left the tower for their various homes. Greppa sent runners after each of the other two to let them know that the wine seller was leaving in three weeks, then headed home himself.

*Greppa*

Seven older sisters can make for a mean childhood, but despite his grumbling, Greppa had grown up the pampered son of a wealthy and influential family, with a Tartwater vineyard that flowed in waves of leaf-covered walls over a sizable chunk of the mountainside and part of the river. The time among the orcs had exposed him to needs he'd never felt, hunger that wasn't sated at ease, and a lowly status to which he was not accustomed. And while these things did not impact him as severely as they might someone of less sterling character, he was very much looking forward to the luxury of home again.

When he arrived, however, two-thirds of the fields lay wild or rotting, while the remaining third looked understaffed. Worse, it was already midsummer, and the summer grapes were still not entirely picked. When Greppa had left, two summers before, the fields had been filled with workers and the poor who followed behind for their tithe. Now, the fields were over ripe and abandoned.

Kethos, a gentle bear of a man who had often stood watch over Greppa and his siblings when they raced through the vineyards, explained the sad situation as such:

"A lot of people went to fight the war last year, about half came back. Those that did, had to decide to work here, or work on keeping their family's fed by working farmland. The bachelors and old folk, like me, we're better at picking than farming, and it brings in some extra money, so here we are... but most of the young had to go to farm, likely will another year or two. Then it'll even out, and we'll be good again."

His heart heavier by each measured step, Greppa walked down the vine fenced road to his house. Once there, there were fierce hugs and joyous reunions... but Greppa had things to tell the family. They gathered around, broke bread and poured wine, and Greppa began to talk.

He told them of the capture, and why so few had returned from Eastpass a year ago. He told them of Hurath's disappearance, and how he'd come to claim the tower for his own. He told them of the dream from Allas, and his suspicions about the birthmark.

He told them of the visions of draconic rage brought by the kobold, and the most likely end of the slaves, many of them people of Tartwater. By the end, he was crying freely, but he spoke with a steady voice. After, his family, even his feared and hated sisters, embraced him and they wept together for the people lost to the dragon and the orcs.

He spent the next few days hard at work in the vineyard, using _shadow servants_ and his own fingers to help the family get in as much as they could before the rot set in. Then he told them the other part of his story...

"I can't stay. I still think that Hurath is out there, and there's Tartwater people held by that other tribe of orcs. I have to figure out where they are. I'm going north with a wine seller, to see what I can find out."

They took it surprisingly well, and made an incredible fuss over the state of his clothes and equipment. Then, with a few more tearful goodbyes, Greppa got back on the road, and headed home... to Hurath's tower.


----------



## incognito

> A day later, the orcs simply left.




Let's hope they learn!  Since there were 5x the number of Orcs, it is safe to say there should/would be a small contingent of couter-casting next time these two forces meet, which really helped win the day for the humans.

I do like the fact that war has reprecusssions -  vis a vis Greppas home visit.   Will you detail Meredith's and Athans?


----------



## Caliber

I think one of the best signs of a good game world (of which MY game most certainly lacks) is logical repercussions of events.

Defintely cool!


----------



## seasong

Today is bad for any real writing, but I'm hoping to have some time tomorrow morning to write up Athan's trip home. Sometime after that, Merideth's.

Repercussions: I try to track everything, always. I don't always succeed, particularly in the later stages of a campaign when it's a matter of letting go of a few threads or letting go of my sanity, but I do try. This campaign is fairly simple, so far - you should see the superhero soap opera thread list .


----------



## incognito

let the haunting begin...you will post...or the dog tounge will  plague you!


----------



## seasong

That dog is just too adorably dopey for words.  I may have to withold posting just to get more of it .

Plague indeed.


----------



## seasong

*Intermission: Athan*

Dread does not quite begin to describe what Athan was feeling when he returned home. He knew his mother would be happy for his new choice in life paths, but...

He'd failed. He'd been captured and enslaved and treated like a favored pet for most of a year. But worse, he'd started to like it. He was more fluent in orc than either of his friends, had spent much of his enslavement chatting with the warriors among his captors. Life would have been good if he'd been born an orc. Simple. Duty to tribe, debt to givers, joy in hunting.

But he wasn't, and orcs were the enemy, and they'd beaten him and made him accept the defeat.

Worse, they'd shown him that he was wrong about something, that he didn't want to be career military, and now he was going to have to eat crow for his mother over it.

His feet slowed on the road south as Little Lake came into view. It was little more than a dammed stopgap in the river, a few hundred people, no more, all crammed around the edge of the water in small, intimate vineyards and ponds. Little Lake was theoretically a fishing community, but like most places in Theralis they spent more of their time making (and imbibing) wine than anything else. It was a beautiful little place.

When he stepped through the front door, most of his family was seated at the hearth, supping at broth. Both brothers, his older sister, father, and crazy aunt, all looking up to see who was walking into their house. A startled pause, then his father stepped across the room and hugged him, pounding him hard on the back.

"Damn, but we've missed you! How's military life?"

In his head, Athan was strangling himself. They didn't know. He had to tell them... more than just his change of career. Rather than answer immediately, he shifted topics, "Where's Mom?"

"Oh, out and about, west I believe. Said she felt something in the air, wanted blood in her teeth before she faced it. She should be back by nightfall."

"Oh, I had something to tell her. I.. is there any broth left? I'm starved."

Laughter greeted him - Athan was known for his eating - and rough topics were happily shelved until Mom arrived. When she did, however, silence filled the room. She saw Athan, and shifted into human form*, "Well, do I get a proper greeting, or are you in a rush to get back to Service?"

_* Note that Athan's mother is a wolver, a short human subrace that can shift into wolf form. This was mentioned a while back._

"I...", Athan bit back angry bile, and as seconds counted by and his fists clenched, rejected at least seven or eight retorts. He finally bit out the hard, first part, "Mom, I'm not in the military now."

"And now you're.. what?" Her eyes were surprised, and faint hope danced in them, before she concealed it with a more appropriate mother's concern, "What happened?"

"At Eastpass, I was captured by orcs. I only... escaped recently. And... "

"And you're going back?" Her voice was soft.

"No. I'm not. I mean, I'm leaving again, but I'm not going back to Service. I'm not.. cut out for it." He couldn't look at her, and his face was hot.

It was his father that cut the brief silence, with a chuckle. "Son, I knew when you left you wouldn't stick to the military. You've spent your whole life chafing at authority, whether it was us or some jumped-up city council member offering to buy our vineyard. I just didn't want to say anything, lest you do it just to spite me."

Athan's ears burned worse, but he plunged on, "I, there's more to it that just that. I have some friends. We were all captured together, and we were slaves for most of a year. When we left, there were a lot of loose ends. Greppa's mentor was also captured, and he wants to look for him, and I want to help. And... a lot of the other slaves were killed. I want to find the orcs that did it."

Athan's voice trailed off, and his mother stepped in to hug him. They stood there, briefly, and then they sat down around the hearth while Athan told the whole story.

Afterwards, there was little left inside him. He still had dangerous journeys ahead of him, but his mother approved of his decisions, and his family still loved him. The family filled him in on their news, as well. His older brother was marrying a north valley girl, and was going to move in with her considerably richer family. His older sister was joining his mother in patrolling the wilderness, and his younger brother was going into his year of Service...

Athan spent a few days with his family, but left before he and his mother could get over the bliss of reunion and into the fights of old. His step was considerably lighter, despite the bad news he'd brought, and the world seemed just a bit brighter.

One thing stuck with him: a conversation with his father about the orcs.

"Son, the best thing to know about the orcs is this - they're people. Sure, they're our enemy today, but they're still people. We're they're enemy, and we're still people, right? If you have to kill them to protect you and yours, that's one thing, but don't get caught up in hating orcs - if anything, admire them. They live a hard life, and do better at it than some people do at a simple life like ours."

Yes, definitely a bit brighter.


----------



## incognito

Lest anyone be fooled by this new ruse:

Seasong is actually Athan's father...this story hour is also semi auto-biographical



Good update.  Meanwhile, when did Athan's parent's get to be so cool?  If more kids had parent's like these, then no one would want to leave home.

An unbigoted father?  A mom that doesn't hold a grudge?  I'd liek an upgrade, please!

A question - will be get to see more of Athan's little brother?  Maybe some brotherly battle action!


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> Lest anyone be fooled by this new ruse:
> 
> Seasong is actually Athan's father...this story hour is also semi auto-biographical



Thank you, I got a good laugh out of that one.

"Athan... *I* am your father!"
"Nooooo!"
"Join me, and together we will rule Theralis!"







> Good update.  Meanwhile, when did Athan's parent's get to be so cool?  If more kids had parent's like these, then no one would want to leave home.
> 
> An unbigoted father?  A mom that doesn't hold a grudge?  I'd liek an upgrade, please!



His mom's _getting her way_. Of course she's happy right now - he's doing exactly what she wants. Go back and read round one of their discussion, when she's not getting her way. The dad is pretty cool, though. And I don't require angst in every relationship .







> A question - will be get to see more of Athan's little brother?  Maybe some brotherly battle action!



Heh, then it _would_ be autobiographical. My brother and I can't be within a mile of each other for more than a few hours without smacktalk.

The little brother may figure into something in the future. He gets some attention in the intro, after all, that makes one wonder what plans he's not telling his mother about...


----------



## J. Anson

seasong said:
			
		

> *My brother and I can't be within a mile of each other for more than a few hours without smacktalk.*




Bring it on, old man.

(sorry, it's in the contract - gotta take these easy shots)


----------



## seasong

J. Anson said:
			
		

> Bring it on, old man.
> 
> (sorry, it's in the contract - gotta take these easy shots)



By easy, of course, he means _taking shots when he's halfway across the country_. Just thought I'd clarify.

Back on topic, it doesn't look like I'll get Merideth's post up until tomorrow. As a special extra, I'll also be putting up some Olgah backstory. My players have already seen most of it, but I wanted to share.


----------



## seasong

Oh, what the heck. I'll post the teaser today...

*Olgah's Tale*

Spring
20 Years Ago

Ugreht was a minor woman of the Bunahken tribe, clever but lazy, and too often she gambled until she lost. She was not well respected, especially this year. She had promised a year of service to Agahken if she lost, and she had lost. Agahken was not cruel nor kind for an orc, but he wrung as much out of the service as he could. She had escaped much of what he might have asked by seducing him... and now she was pushing his baby out of her belly, too clever for her own good.

Ugreht grunted once, as a flash of pain shot caught her by surprise, but was otherwise silent through the ordeal. The orcwife who watched over her grunted in return - Ugreht might be lazy in life and weak in gambling, but she was stronger than many mothers during birthing, and the orcwife approved.

Then, suddenly, the child was out. The orcwife and mother looked at the child, redfaced but breathing, and Ugreht's motherly instincts failed to kick in.

"Take it away. I would not look upon its father's face."

Such things were sometimes known to happen, when a mother had a child she did not wish, and the bond failed to manifest. It was unfortunate, but... the orcwife took the child out of the tent, and made her way up mountain. Laying it between chilly rocks, she turned and left. The baby was given no name, for none was needed. Until their fifth year, a baby is only a potential orc.

Still, it did not cry. It continued to breathe with strong lungs, and watched the pre-morning sky start to pale.


----------



## incognito

> Then, suddenly, the child was out. The orcwife and mother looked at the child, redfaced but breathing, and Ugreht's motherly instincts failed to kick in.




Daaaaaaang!  Now THAT's more like the family I know!

  (mostly kidding WRT the family, of course - excepting that the female members sure do know how to hold a grudge!)

but for the brother, I was thinking they might tussle against a common enemy at some point, not with each other!

And any chance of inight into the coutner casting that the ORcs MUST be planning.  Magic cost them dealy this time...(stupid fireball!)


----------



## seasong

*Intermission: Merideth*

Merideth, Scion of Allas. War Hero. Slayer of Darkness. Bane of Spiders.

She tried all of them out in her head, trying to make her shoulders high enough and broad enough to carry such lofty-sounding titles. She envisioned herself, leaping from precipice to rocky precipice, inflicting weal and woe upon hordes of orcs and spiders and whatever else she could fancy. In her head, Merideth always had the potential to be any kind of hero.

_Useless noncombatant. Orc slave. Serving girl._

Merideth could already see her home, an attractively designed, quaint little domicile of brick and marble that her family didn't own. Servant's quarters, made as attractive as possible, then tucked away from sight by the main road, shadowed by the modest manse and tower it was an accessory for.

_Kyriotes_. Bile rose momentarily, as did hot tears that were ruthlessly suppressed. The old wizard's family lived here, and he occasionally visited them. The tower was his old one, now partially a storage bin, partially a home away from home for him, when he wasn't out on some grand adventure or holed up in the Theralis library.

She'd been enchanted by him when she was a child. He would do magic tricks for all of the children in the household, servants included, and he was a fascinating storyteller who loved to tell of places he'd been and things he'd done. When he was around, most of the children wanted to grow up to be arcanists, although Merideth was the only one who maintained that desire between trips... except...

When she'd boldly asked him to apprentice her at age eleven, he'd taken her seriously for half an hour. During that period, he'd tested her on memory, puzzles, and strange pictures. She'd been so _excited_ about being tested, and then he told her that he wouldn't teach her.

"Child, there is nothing wrong with you, and you are reasonably intelligent, but to be an arcanist requires something beyond reasonable. It is a rare gift, one which most people don't have. If you are set on magic, you should set your sights lower.. you might make an excellent healer, for example."

"But I want to be an adventurer!"

The old wizard had looked startled at that, then eased his face into kindly lines, "Well, healers can be adventurers, too. Why, what if I were deep in the Old Forests, and injured beyond recovery? What would I do?"

"You'd teleport!" She was smart enough to guess that, she figured.

"Well, yes, but not if I was exhausted. I might need a healer, then."

"Not you!"

He'd chuckled, and forgotten about it. Merideth had not. When she applied for apprenticing to Aionas the mindworker a year later, he'd likely not even connected the two events.

But he'd filled her head with dreams, and been kind to her in a house where servants were invisible, at least while she was still a child and full of cuteness. Then he'd grown distant, and...

...completely passed her by, not even a hint of recognition, during the war council. She suppressed another wave of bile and tears, and began walking down the path to home.

Her family, a close knit bunch, greeted her at the door with expressions of surprise and happiness, and Merideth was very nearly hugged into unconsciousness. For a while, things were good.

But two years had weighed heavily on her mother's face and around her father's eyes, and their sloped shoulders, once so normal to Merideth, now seemed pitiful and weak after a year with wealth-born Greppa and golden Athan.

Still, she told them where she'd been, and even managed (as she always did in her head) to make the time enslaved seem like a small step on the path to heroism and adventure. She glossed a few things - Southbottom folk care little for the soft north valleys, for example - but overall she managed to convey the scope of her journey.

And then it was the wee hours of the night, and she went to bed. When she awoke, it was like she hadn't left. She wore ordinary clothing, helped her family out with the house chores (she refused to work in the big house, however), watched over the new baby...

Before she knew it, a week had passed, and nothing had changed. And every night, her parents came in too tired to do much other than eat a meal, and go to bed. And they would have been more tired, except that Merideth was there to shoulder some of the work.

Only she wasn't going to be.

That afternoon, Merideth put manic effort into all of the chores. She finished cleaning dishes and clothing, swept out every floor, aired out the house and let sunlight in, made sheets, pasted chipped dishes, and organized as much as she knew how to. Then (she'd counted carefully, but it was still hard), she left a year's salary in her mother's pouch, part of the group's spoils from the lost temple, made dinner and left it on the table..

And slipped out before anyone got home.

On the road north, the tears she'd ruthlessly suppressed burst out of her like a dam. She felt lower than low, but what could she do? She couldn't stay. She couldn't tell them she hated their lives.

Days later, when she'd arrived at Greppa's tower, she'd managed to achieve what she felt was the perfect look of tranquil wisdom and acceptance of her burdens. To Athan and Greppa, she just looked stoop-shouldered and sad, but she didn't offer explanation, and they didn't ask.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> And any chance of inight into the coutner casting that the ORcs MUST be planning.  Magic cost them dealy this time...(stupid fireball!)



Sorry, no can do. Whatever the orcs are planning, we've got some time between now and then .

Hope y'all enjoy Merideth's family bit.


----------



## incognito

> Hope y'all enjoy Merideth's family bit.




Dang.  Meredith's family is suffering from the classic tragedy of the lower middle class.  Not poor enough to be resorting to anything shady, or illegal - just simple folk, working at simple jobs, earning enough $$$ to make it season to season, but never enough to break out of the day-in, day-out patterns that so many of us in modern day life get caught up in.

Wow.

I wonder seasong, if you realise,  just how close to home this last chapter would hit if it was read by a larger audience.  I wonder how many of us, with our long hours, and busy lives fall into a very similar genre to M's parents.  Or how many of us stuggle, like M, to escape that trap.

It's an interesting chapter indeed.  Maybe trite, but certainly a good read.  I think I'll go home, buy a spear, and start hunting brutal Orcs (high school bullies) and evil Necromanceers (certain CEO's).

Ahhh, the life of an adventurer.  

Oh yeah, if seaong's own little brother can post to this thread, surely the rest of you EN World "slackers" can chime in and give some props, eh?

_As if I'm the only one reading this! Sheesh!_


----------



## Occam's Nail File

*Re: Meredith's interlude*

Actually, being both a freak and bored yesterday, I purchased a book called "The Great Cat Massacre" which sought to interpret the historical context of various French folktales, journals and such from the mid-18th century.  

French peasants in the 1700's were miserable and poor as we all know, and their fairytales (like many cultures) often had a component of being on the road to seek fortune, though they tended to be much darker than a lot of the stories we know- not necessarily more violent, just meaner.  

Very obviously, the stoop-shouldered and hardworked family made me think of this, and it tied together a lot more neatly in my head than in text.


----------



## Caliber

I'm still around, albeit more pressed for time!  

Everything looks really good. Did the players help you out with the little interludes or was that pure DM liscense?

I'd like to write things like that for my players, except I get the feeling they would just scan them for magical loot. Damn munchkins.


----------



## seasong

*Olgah's Tale*

Winter
15 years ago

Agahken sighed heavily. The rabbit was gone from the wolf trap again, with nary a mark to show how it might have happened. He was certain that some spirit had cursed him, and was harrying him to an early grave. An accident had hobbled him and forced him to trapping, in winter of all times, and now, his traps were passed through as if by a ghost wolf.

He was a decent tracker, and had often followed the oddly heavy, medium-sized wolf for a few miles, only to find remains of the rabbit carcass, and tracks disappearing into the stony river. It was a canny wolf, but he could not figure out how it could get the rabbit from the trap.

He would have spoken to the shaman, but the shaman was very old and more violently dour by the day. And Agahken owed him still - it would not do to crawl deeper into debt.

*Hunting & Trapping in Orc Culture*

Just a few notes I haven't had time to write into something more prosaic.

* Among men, hunting is the ultimate pursuit.
* An orc who has to trap is pitied by his fellows, and ribbed by his close buddies.
* That's not to say that every orc hasn't had to trap at some point in their life. A life without trapping... why, that's the hoped for orc afterlife.
* Orc hunters typically run down their prey. The best hunters can outrun bounding deer (fast movement feats).
* Many orcs focus more on the martial side than the hunting side, but that is a necessity of life. Life has war, therefore men must be warriors.
* Fishing is a common pastime and meditation among orcs. Some orcs are said to speak to fish to catch them. Unlike hunting, fishing is a meditative act.
* There are three foods believed to be necessary to good health: the grape, prey meat, and fish. The grape is said to strengthen one's bones; meat strengthens one's muscles and blood; and fish strengthens one's cunning.


----------



## seasong

Oh, another quick little note, since we're talking about "poor".

Unskilled labor (which Merideth's family counts as) earns about 6 chalk per day per laborer. A year's payroll is about 2,200 chalk, or 275 argur. Merideth actually put 300 argur down, a sizable amount.

For those too lazy to go back and read Economic Considerations, that's enough for the whole 10-person family to live on for about a month and a half without working. They won't use it for that, of course, but that's roughly how much she dropped in their laps. What's more likely is that their youngest children (who still have the most potential) will be tutored until it runs out, in the hope that the tutor will be taken enough with the child to apprentice them.

In straight-laced D&D terms, that is _roughly_ equivalent to 600 GP, based on food & labor costs, but arms & armor do not convert very well, as Theralis is based on materials & labor effort put into an item. All of the money was from the loot from the Allas temple.


----------



## J. Anson

incognito said:
			
		

> *Oh yeah, if seaong's own little brother can post to this thread, surely the rest of you EN World "slackers" can chime in and give some props, eh?*




Little? 

Heh.  I'm just angry I'm not involved in any games right now.


----------



## Inez Hull

incognito said:
			
		

> *
> Oh yeah, if seaong's own little brother can post to this thread, surely the rest of you EN World "slackers" can chime in and give some props, eh?
> 
> As if I'm the only one reading this! Sheesh! *




You're certainly not the only one, but we lurkers all know that you'll massage Seasong's ego like clockwork whenever he posts and cajole when he hasn't posted for a day or two.

Consider it your calling, and a noble one at that


----------



## seasong

I don't really have enough time to write today, so, I'll just tease a bit and post the next short segment of Olgah's Tale.

Tease #1: Captain Agina catches up to our heroes.
Tease #2: We're getting close to the part of Olgah's Tale that the player's _haven't_ seen already.

Mild teases, I know.

*Olgah's Tale*

Spring
15 Years Ago

Wolf and child raced through the forest, upmountain and crossing streams where possible. Behind, the drumming of the hunt. Why the orcs hunted them, or how they were found out, was unimportant. Escape mattered only.

The child was scrawny, perhaps five years but looking four. A wild mane of hair hung down her back, and sharp teeth showed from behind peeled-back lips. She clung to the old wolf's ruff with her hands, and clung to its ribs with her knees. She moved with the wolf as one, and barely encumbered it.

The wolf was an old bitch, but tough and smart. Her dark greyfur was streaked with white, and her eyes were dark tan pools. She ran tirelessly.

Apart, each was clever for their kind and age, but together they were as relentlessly cunning as the wind.

They hit another stream, going under the water and swimming downstream as long as their breath could hold them, then splashing back onto rocks and then into the forest. The hunters were trying to drive them upmountain, where there was less space to run. Let them try.

The hunters were lost. The wolf and orc cub travelled cautiously to avoid trails, and finally retired to their den. Tonight would be hungry, but safe.


----------



## snownoir

*Greppa's Ambitious Destiny*

*Well, Incognito, everyone, here is the post on Greppa's motivations. Some of the memories of past posted, namely the Eastpass rout are distorted by personal experience and emotion. I'm not attempting to alter continuity.  

Please excuse any misspellings or errors. They will be dealt with as I am able to. *

The nightmare's beginning was familiar.

Orcs blanketed the mountain slope at Eastpass surging en masse, a wave death borne on swarthy muscles.

Greppa marched in the midst of his battle band, mud bearers bracketed on his left and right. In the pearlescent sunlight of the dream.  The other soldiers, the adults sent reinforce them seemed to tower over him, a forest of soldiers. He was in the third rank, behind the shield wall and their spearmen. He could see Athan marching grimly with the second rank of spear man and knew that Merideth was somewhere the nearby ready to pull their grapes off the vine when the fight got underway. 

Then the dream changed.

The battle was joined. The shield wall held again and again as the orcs drove into it. They could pull this off, Greppa thought. They could hold them off until Hurath comes back and sends them scurrying again. 

The dream changed.

Greppa was standing on the lookout rock as Hurath requested 50 soldiers to go harry the orcs and open the northern trade route. He watched them disappear over the pass. He was waving good-bye

The dream changed.

The battle continued. Greppa was becoming numb. "El gan kinos, El gan kinos" he cast, and cast the power words had become a mantra as he strove to dirty the eyes of every orc he could reach. 

"We're going to win," Greppa thought, ginning despite of himself as Athan deprived another orc of his windpipe. "We're going to…"

A heavy bell had rung and for a fraction of a moment Greppa wondered who's bright idea it was to bring a bell on the battle field, then he saw one of the spearmen's head explode, ruptured by the tree trunk that that punched its way through the shield wall. There were other ringing sounds, less pure than the first, but just as chilling. 

Men were flung aside as the battering rams charged through their ranks. Goal accomplished,  the orcs dropped the logs. Chitin spears appeared in their hands and the slaughter began.

The dream advanced, sharpening into bright detail as fantasy started rippling at the edges of the memory's reality.  

The orcs boiled and bubbled through the disintegrating shield line. The mudbearers were gone, vanished in the panic. Greppa ran, trying to use the carnage as cover, size finally playing into his hands for once. The forest of soldiers had been replaced by fallen children and adults. The occasional orc sprinkled the ground, but most, at least from his angle seemed to be wearing the tunic and sandals of the Thoralis military. 

He was considering smearing himself with other people's blood and burying himself in the growing pile of bodies when Agina's voice cut through the din.

"TO ME! RETREAT TO ME!"

Greppa ran, pumping fast as he could, ignoring the cuts and slices he had accumulated in is flight, finally he was cornered. Chitin tipped spears poking into his neck and torso, barking incomprehensible orders at him. 

It was the moment that he felt defined him. 

Greppa didn't want to die on his knees, Greppa didn't want to die, but he didn't want to die on his knees, before orcs, dirty, stinking barbaric orcs. He tensed hoping to make his end quick, then his nerve deserted him. He didn't overtly surrender, but his willingness to fling himself on the hooked points or fight and struggle drained away. He could feel his strength seep out, flowing, stirring into the blood caking his sandals. 

He looked around, heart quailing.

Killing, at least for the Orcs, wasn't the goal anymore. They were fracturing people from the retreating ranks and driving them to the ground in forced surrender and binding them like unruly livestock. 

Greppa's thoughts raced. Arcanists are supposed to be able to summon fire from the heavens. Fly from the clutches of enemies on wings of Will. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," his thoughts beat against his skull, straining against his eyes. Eyes that watched Athan cutdown and bound, watched Merideth tackled and bound and gagged. 

Greppa felt a dirty piece of cloth, backed by leather punched into his mouth and tighten him into silence. They followed up quickly, binding his arms and legs. Even his fingers were restrained, with surprisingly intricate knot work. 

He was dropped onto the dirt and his captors moved to the next victim. Greppa saw his people, the people of the north, of Tartwater, the field hands that helped raise him. He saw them lying dead in the dirt. He saw them being marched off to servitude. 

"I'm supposed to be able to save them," he thought.  "I should have studied harder, stolen more spells. I should have FOUGHT."

Renewed vigor flooded his limbs and he started to squirm, however he wasn't as alone as he thought. He was lifted bodily where his legs and hands were joined by a rope and bounced forcefully against the ground until he couldn't move any more. 

The Present

Greppa woke up on the floor of Hurath's bedchamber, almost constricted in the heavy bed clothes. He was bound tightly, twisted by his thrashing and turning and tightened by his profuse sweat. Fear coated the sweat, ghostly orc drums chasing him from his sleep. Trapped in the clinging train of slumber he, tried to free himself, but with growing panic, he found he couldn't get free, not without calming down and calm was not on the horizon, not while he was trapped. 

He spoke, the spell pattern forming as he visualized  it happening,"mal ath abthyr manaros!" The spirits of the "lesser shadow killer" sprung into existence and ravened their way through the bedding. Greppa thrashed free and stood up shivering. 

The dream had gotten worse, since he went home. He saw the overgrown vineyards. He saw the grapes that would never become wine, because the people who tended them were serving some Gods forsaken orc tribe.

He grit his teeth and felt them vibrate as a chill began to set in. The nights were cool, even chilly for someone of his small frame. 

He padded over to the wardrobe still thinking. Finding the captured people was going to be more difficult, after that damned dragon decided to punish the Bone-Ache tribe for profaning its precious forest. In the illusion the kobold had cast, orc and non-orc were slaughtered viciously, and the remaining humans claimed by the orc tribe lapping at the dragon's hem. They had to find out who the new tribe was. It was the only way to get those people back. 

He summoned a shadow servant and then another. He sent one to light candles in the hallway and commanded another to retrieve a knee length military tunic for him, while he stripped out of his bed clothes and pulled on dry undergarments. He was tying on his sandals when he felt the tunic brush his bare arm. He grinned in spite of his stormy feelings.

Hurath had said the best thing about magic wasn't the big things, it was the everyday things that it makes more convent. There were some people in Theralis, he'd said, who took the time to learn a few basic spells to make their lives or business easier. 

Greppa raised his arms over his head and let the tunic fall into place. He had to get outside, the dream always affected him strongly, and being cooped up made it harder to get back to himself. He walked to the door and stopped. 

Merideth and Athan were in the tower. The servants wouldn't have woken them, but they could hear probably hear him coming down the stairs, particularly Merideth. They had probably fallen asleep long ago like he had after they'd all had their good cry. However, he did not want to talk, especially to Athan. 

Tonight's events hammered home something that his sister, Isola, told him when they'd had a moment alone. 

Isola was Greppa's elder by 10 years, and was an amateur Esper and dabbled in Healing. She was a flighty romantic, and had lots of character flaws, but one thing she knew about was boys. She could smell a crush or a budding relationship from miles away and if she knew the people involved she stuck her nose in it. Around Tartwater she was known as a matchmaker and busybody, but people kept coming to her because her insight was often correct.

She came to him when he was working in one of the undertended areas of the vineyard, directing a small armada of shadow servants to help get in as much of the crop as possible. 

"Very impressive," she had said as she watched the magical ballet. "You know, you should stop."

"Stop what?" He said cocking a dark eyebrow, "I have to get as much of this fruit in as possible, before it starts to rot…"

She interrupted him, "No, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Athan dear."

Greppa started, blushing into his hairline as his eyes strained at his sockets, "ah, um I don't know what you're talking about?"

She smiled at him oozing matronly condescension, "Look, I know the way people talk about people they…like. And I know that you like Athan, and I know that he hasn't responded. He is your friend, a comrade, someone whose willing to risk his life for you in battle and drink with you afterward. 

When you speak of him, you change, but you need to know that you should stop wanting what you cannot have. I don't know where his preferences lie, but since my family does not have any ugly members, it can't be because of that." 

Greppa didn't respond immediately, his effort being channeled into his blush, sending it onto his scalp.

"But, everything we've been through," he started.

This time she laughed, "Here you are, the big arcanist, and you're still nursing the the romantic fascinations of a young maid. I knew I hadn't left my copy of the "The Taming of Hallas" in your room by mistake." She paused and began again, a bit more genuinely. "So you've had a couple of adventures. You were thinking that after you'd kill a few orcs he'd bound up the hill lift you into the sky and declare undying love?"

This time Greppa flinched. It wasn't exactly true…he'd slaughtered his fair share of orcs too, at least in his version of the fantasy. 

"I know you've been though a lot, but those are not the experiences that build relationships, they result in manly bonding and there's absolutely nothing romantic involved in that dear."

Greppa deflated under the pitiless words, and he was very angry with her for laying his private world open to the caustic sting of reality.

"You need to keep a clear head dear," she began. "You want to be an adventurer and deluded romantic notions can get you killed, by distracting you when you need to be alert especially if you think that you're feeling things you are not. Athan and Merideth care about you, a fraternal care, but nothing to build a romantic love on. Value it and don't wreck it by dwelling on the unresolved fantasies of a child."

Greppa didn't want to believe her and had almost convinced himself that she was completely wrong and he was going to prove it to her when he got back to the tower. Merideth hadn't made it back from home so in her absence he was going to ask Athan once and for all. 

He didn't get a chance because Athan was never at the tower. He spent most of his time sparring and spending time with the soldiers he met during the last orc incursion.  

He took some time to follow Athan one day, and watched them train and work and realized that this was what made Athan feel happy. Outside of Allas' birthmark, and their stint as orc slaves, they had very little else in common. The two things they did have in common were substantial, but Isola was right. If it was going to happen, if it was even possible, it would have, but it probably wasn't. So he snuck off and returned to the tower and back to Hurath's research. 

Greppa swallowed as he allowed himself to comeback to the present. He had been avoiding the others since then, pouring over the spellbooks and research notes Hurath left. Not that they'd noticed. Athan was with the soldiers and Merideth was bound up with whatever stresses she brought from home. 

The uninterrupted work had helped him to get his mind back on business. He was actually getting back to normal before the dreams had started again. Despite Agina's efforts, he still felt a keen sense of responsibility. 

He pushed open the window and let the cool night breeze caress his damp skin. It was a good night for a run. The last wars had taught Greppa that he had to stay in some sort of good physical condition in case he had to run, not that he expected to be able to outrun what ever is following him, but he wanted to prove to himself that he could indeed run. That and running made the pain go away and let him think. 

He'd decided to abandon his plan to be the most powerful arcanist in the world. Experience had shown him that it isn't power that let someone win or lose a battle, it was how that power was applied. 

"I don't want to be the most powerful arcanist in the world," Greppa said absently, although the shadow servant hovering at is side was the only thing that could hear him. "I want to be the most lethal arcanist ever born. Orcs, bandits, even dragons, will give way to me. I'm tired of being the twig being stepped on."

He pushed the window totally open. He cast feather fall and leapt into space, lowering himself to the ground and running off into the darkness. His body slipped into a familiar rhythm, leaving his mind free to contemplate magic and his destiny.


----------



## J. Anson

*Re: Greppa's Ambitious Destiny*



			
				snownoir said:
			
		

> *"I want to be the most lethal arcanist ever born. Orcs, bandits, even dragons, will give way to me. I'm tired of being the twig being stepped on."*




Sweet. A budding arcanist developing an interest in power over life and death....

bwahahahahahahaha!


----------



## seasong

*Slow Gathering*

Greppa got back to the tower well before the others, purchased supplies for the upcoming trip north, double checked everything, then settled down to wait. Or rather, started to. Then he remembered that Theralis had midsummer wrestling tournaments, and hied himself off to watch.

On the second day of the tournament, a hand dropped gently on his shoulder. He turned, expecting Athan or Merideth to be getting his attention, when his entire world narrowed down to the pair of hardened black eyes meeting his. _Captain Agina_.

"Ah, C-Captain Agina, a p-pleasure!"

"So it is. I find myself wondering, if it is such a pleasure, why I did not hear from you sooner?"

"Ah, well, I, uh..." Greppa trailed off and looked down, away. He'd failed, failed horribly, and found himself unable to face her.

"Greppa! Eyes up! You Served, face me like an adult!"

His eyes snapped to hers, his hackles raised... and he saw only a harsh face softened with kindness.

"I failed, Captain, I got..."

She interrupted, "Greppa, you did not fail. You were captured in war. That's a strategic failure, _my_ failure, not yours. A strong military is built on the backs of many, many people, and it stands or falls together."

And from there, it was easy. They talked. Greppa told her his story. She told him what happened at Eastpass after. They both shed a few tears for lost comrades, and some of Greppa's weight lifted from his delicate shoulders.

When they parted, he told her where the tower was, and let her know that the others should be there by the end of the next week. She just grinned and said, "Don't tell 'em I'm coming."


----------



## snownoir

*Not what you think*

*Sweet. A budding arcanist developing an interest in power over life and death....* 

Not what you're thinking. Greppa hasn't entered the race for Necromancer of Thoralis. He's simply directing his research towards creating the Vorpal Cone of Orcish (And anything else unlucky enough to be in the way) of Doom spell.


----------



## Capellan

*Re: Not what you think*



			
				snownoir said:
			
		

> *Not what you're thinking. Greppa hasn't entered the race for Necromancer of Thoralis. He's simply directing his research towards creating the Vorpal Cone spell. *




I still think Merideth is more likely to head down that route.  Her powers fit the profile much better, and all the signs are that she is every bit as ambitious as Greppa.  Bring in her notions of heroism, and her feeling of alienation from her family and society, and you have a dark blossom ready to bloom.

Or so I hope, anyway.  It would be fun to watch 

Oh, and (lest incognito be offended by the omission  ), I'll add kudos to seasong and his players for the highly enjoyable story hour.


----------



## seasong

_Secretly, Athan always harbored a fondness for tales of undeath.._

For my part, I'm not grooming anyone to be a necromancer, and no one has asked me to put opportunities their way. However, that is not to say that there is no power hungry desires going on . Below are just some possibilities:

Merideth: Espers have a number of paths they can go down: prophet, necromancer, voyeur, mindwitch, loremaster, and more. And they can often pursue more than one of those. Healers, of course, can become astounding healers... but they can also do well at the black arts of necromancy, assassination, or death-dealing warrior. For Merideth, combining the two, a voyeur (ethereally projecting) assassin might make a nice combo if she makes much in the way of political connections; otherwise she could become a powerful mindwitch, death-dealer, etc.

Greppa: Arcanists essentially only have three specialties (summoner, elementalist, planar traveller) and Greppa has not evinced a particular fondness for any one over any other. Generally speaking, any of those can be corrupted to darkness - arcanists regularly deal with energies from the infernal realms, make bargains with noncorporeal entities, and otherwise pursue the path of Faust.

Not that I'm saying either of these two fine, upstanding young heroes will do anything of this sort. We'll just have to wait and see.


----------



## seasong

If I have time today, I'll post the first part of their journey north also. Otherwise, that will be for tomorrow.

*Gathering*

Athan dragged in a day later. He seemed refreshed, and ready to take on everything. Merideth came in several days after that, her shoulders as stooped as they'd been before her year of Service. They did their best to cheer her, and somewhat succeeded, but she didn't offer any detail, and they didn't press the issue.

They'd had a day together, and were settled around the hearth while Greppa explained the travel job with a master merchant he'd gotten for them, when Captain Agina arrived. An imperious knock at the door, then striding past Greppa when he answered it.

"So, I see that you two did, in fact, make it safely home. How wonderful to know." Her face was severe, her mouth set in a thin line... and her eyes were twinkling, just a bit.

Merideth, mouth agape, said nothing, but instead slowly turned red as her mind raced for a response that wouldn't get her in more trouble. Athan, perhaps more accustomed to viewing Agina as a human being and not some dire authority figure, grinned unrepentantly, and started, "Sorry, Captain, I must have"

"Forgotten? Wandered off the field of battle in a daze? Perhaps the orcs addled your brains, and made you think that your former Captain wouldn't want to know you were alive? And are you grinning at me!?" Her voice outraged, Captain Agina had drawn herself to full height now, "ON YOUR FEET, SOLDIER!"

Shocked, Athan and Merideth both scrambled upright... and Captain Agina stepped in and hugged them, one arm each (and barely topping Athan's chin), "Damn you both, but it's good to see you made it!"

Tears, never in short supply over the last two weeks, flowed freely once more. They visited, Agina left, and Greppa once again started to explain how being guards to a few wagons of mediocre wine was going to lead to them being mighty adventurers.


----------



## seasong

*North*

The trio met with Uridates the master merchant, a calculating man of prodigious wealth and girth, and less than prodigious hair. He greeted Greppa perfunctorily, tightening his lips in something like a smile, and nodded to Athan and Merideth. Then he passed them on to his quartermaster and taskmaster, Midrias.

Midrias was a scrawny, bird-like little woman whose hands darted when she spoke, as if she was stabbing someone with them. Still, she was friendly enough, and evidently worked with Uridates as the "people person" of the team.

"Happy to have you on board," she said to all three, but her eyes lingered on Athan, "Come an' meet the other guards. We've got three wagons o' wine, an' it's worth more'n all three o' you in Aglaonis. You'll get an argur a day, wi' three today, seven on arrival, three to sign back on, and eight when we get back in Theralis. Ah, here they are."

The other guards were eight in number, and all looked foreign.

Two, Mithas and Tital, were introduced as citizens of Aglaonis, the city-state the master merchant was travelling to. They were both nearly of a size with Athan, dressed in ankle-length tunics that would not have looked out of place in Theralis... and they each carried a two-handed sword that resembled a three foot meat cleaver. The blade itself, entirely black iron, was flat-topped and a hand wide, designed for no purpose other than chopping. A crossbar offered some protection to the hands, and the hilt was slightly curved, and designed to allow a full handspan between both grips, similar to an ax handle.

Mithas and Tital were friendly enough, and seemed familiar compared to the other six.

The others also wore swords, although more reasonably sized, and with a sharp point on the end for stabbing with ("Agina'd probably like one o' those," Athan commented to Greppa later on). Four were dressed reasonably, in ankle-length tunics and overcoats, but two were dressed as barbarians, in leather pants, tucked in tunics, and jerkins made of tanned hide. All carried a small, round shield made of wood and as wide as their arms were long. The shields looked unwieldy, and too weak to stop an orc's spear. All six looked like foreign mercenaries, and possessed none of the mannerisms of the Theralis people. The spoke in an ugly tongue, and were very brusque with the three - even basic manners were missing.

One of the leather wearing guards was a bitter little man with dark hair; the other one, from the way they squabbled, might have been his wife, a dark redhead bearing little resemblance to him. The other four "real" foreigners were all blond, and looked more northern than anything else, three men and another woman, all tough.

Greppa slept poorly with them around.

*Out of Eastpass*

The Theralis military practically covered the mountainside by Eastpass. Their presence continued a mile along the highway, and then abruptly stopped, where a last guard gave them a friendly warning, "If you see orcs, beat feet back here. Personal advice, I'd say let Hethas have the wagons."

Despite the dire warning, orcs failed to materialize, and the wagons slowly made their way north along the valley road. Then, on the third morning, disaster struck.

Most of the guards were resting in the wagon, alert but relaxed(except Athan, who was jogging for a bit), and Greppa was admiring an unlikely rock formation by the roadside - it looked almost carved from the surface of a boulder, or as if something had sheltered the boulder while rain ate away at this segment.

When the rock formation moved. _Fast_.

Before anyone could react, it had pounced on the bitter little man in the leather jerkin, raking deep wound tracks in his flesh and ripping his throat out with fangs that were suddenly revealed. On the other side of the wagons, the blond woman had been jumped by a second one, although she'd responded better, getting her arm lodged in its mouth and mostly shimmeying away from its claws.

As surprise resolved into clarity, the sight of the creatures burned a permanent scar into the memory of the youths.

Shaped like a horse-sized cat, but with great, heavy folds of rock-colored, hairless flesh, and marble-like teeth and claws. Angry yellow eyes. A thick, club-like tail that lashed violently in the air as they ripped into their chosen prey.

Armorcats.

Athan responded first, screaming incoherently and hurtling a spear the short distance into the one that had killed the guard. The spear thunked into the flesh of its shoulder, and it leapt, smoothly, impossibly fast, onto Athan, and rended his chest and upper thighs into meaty strips, only barely missing his neck for the killing blow. Athan dropped his spear, and found himself holding the predator by the rhino-like jowels.

Greppa, realizing belatedly that he should have buffed everyone long ago, summoned an earth spirit into Athan to provide him with inhuman strength, and prayed that was enough. And crouched between the barrels on the wagon.

Then everyone was hacking into the beasts. The fight was brutal and short. It ended when Athan, getting a better grip and bolstered by primal rage and fear, and Greppa's spells, broke the creature's neck. It's death scream chased off the other one, and silence filled the area.

Two dead: the blond woman had suffered a claw scratch to an artery and had bled to death while the others fought the creature pinning her, and the dark-haired little man had died in the first few seconds.

Athan was also grievously wounded, enough so that Merideth's healing still left scars - three razor-thin, vertical white lines on each thigh, and over each shoulder and pectoral.


----------



## Indigo Veil

<does a little happy dance> Hurrah! Captain Agina had a walk on cameo! _And_ she had lines of relative substance (few though they were) to speak, which makes it even better! (and I mean relative to other cameos, where the line might've been, "...I look good in this tunic. But then again, I look good in anything." <character gets the wind effect and then exits stage right>)

Ahhh, there is something so delicious about competent women in positions of authority...<melts into a gooey puddle on the floor>

And, just to heckle Hank:



> Not what you're thinking. Greppa hasn't entered the race for Necromancer of Thoralis.




That wasn't what _I_ was thinking. I'm thinking about his eventual ascent to *power*, and Greppa taking whatever avenues are open to him to gain it, necromantic in nature or otherwise (one out of game word: "Mephisto"). So, while Greppa might not be sprinting forward, he's still taking that path--it's just more a leisurely stroll than a race, at this point.



> "I want to be *the most lethal* arcanist ever born. Orcs, bandits, even dragons, will *give way to me*. I'm tired of being the twig being stepped on."



 (emphasis mine) ^_^

Awww, yeah. We're talkin' _smack down_, baby. 

And it's very you, dahling. ^^;;;


----------



## Greybar

As always very enjoyable, both from the storytelling and from the world creation.  The only problem is that you distract me from writing stuff for my world!

But now back to something recent:


> Greppa, realizing belatedly that he should have buffed everyone long ago




Hey, that's an interesting thought.  For these spells that last for hours (presuming you haven't changed the duration), it makes sense for the heroes to really always have them up.  If you have a three or four hour duration on Earth's Strength or Earth's Skin, you should spell yourself exhausted on the whole guard contingent.  After all, you'll recover from the exhaustion long before the spell runs out, and then you can do it again!

For the adventuring party, this might offset the scarcity of magical items and other equipment.  There aren't many suits of plate armor and bracers of strength lying around, but as long as you have that one arcanist in the group there is no excuse to not have your strength, dex, con and "skin" boosted at all times.

John


----------



## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> Hey, that's an interesting thought.  For these spells that last for hours (presuming you haven't changed the duration), it makes sense for the heroes to really always have them up.



Absolutely. In fact, that's pretty much the way the war was run (as part of the shock troops), but the PCs never followed through after the war. You can bet they did after the armorcat incident, however.

As a side note, there is one good reason not to do so: when the arcanist has good direct combat spells, you lose a lot of tactical strength if he's exhausted when the enemy attacks. You also get hosed if all magic in the area is _dispelled_ while he's exhausted and unable to replenish it.

Also, _earth's skin_ and _earth's strength_ make you look odd, so they're not always appropriate.

But as a general rule? Earth's strength is good stuff.







> For the adventuring party, this might offset the scarcity of magical items and other equipment.



Scarcity? What scarcity? Athan's gotta magic spear, don't he?


----------



## Caliber

Very cool. Its nice getting to see those background beasties you were talking about oh so long ago viscously maul a player character.

Ah the joys of DMing.


----------



## seasong

Three updates in a day! I'm craaazy!

*Olgah's Tale*

Spring
15 Years Ago

Grumbling to himself, the shaman hiked through the woods. The orcs had described what they hunted as a small creature clinging to the back of a wolf. According to Agahken, it had flashing red eyes and had howled with the wolf as it ran. The shaman wanted to make sure the damned stupid orc had not somehow offended a kerbohl... or stumbled across a threat to the tribe.

So far, he had covered half the mountain and the local spirits had agreed that such a thing had passed through, but that it did not live there. He continued grumbling to himself, when he saw them.

Flat on their bellies, an old wolf bitch and an orc child were lapping water at the base of a waterfall. As one, they startled and stared at the shaman. Then, like a flicker of flame, the child blended into the wolf's back and the two leaped as one over the pool and into the shadows of the forest.

It was enough of a shock that the shaman stopped grumbling. And started chuckling - the child had had Agahken's eyes, and if there was one thing the shaman liked, it was to have Agahken as deep in debt to him as possible.

Agahken's mate was a damned fine cook, and the shaman was in the mood for a good meal after all this hiking.


----------



## seasong

Caliber: Yessssss . What was sad is that Athan would have been in really good shape... if he'd had _earth's skin_ cast on him earlier. As it was, _rage_ was the only reason he didn't die.


----------



## J. Anson

Indigo Veil said:
			
		

> *So, while Greppa might not be sprinting forward, he's still taking that path--it's just more a leisurely stroll than a race, at this point.*




Yeah, what's up with that?  I wanna watch Greppa climb into the hole of damnation like a pig into mud, not _slip_ into it.

Well, unless he slips into it like he would an old pair of slippers- that would be pretty sweet, too.


----------



## snownoir

Humph, Chris-chan, I don't know what you're talking about. That deal I made with Mephisto was for purely altruistic reasons.

The Authority showed up and wanted to reformat the world. We needed more power and since I was going to hell anyway...

Altruism....that's all it was pure Altruism.

*starts mantra*


----------



## seasong

_Sigh_.

I haven't had much time today for anything other than little little comments here and there on the boards - insufficient for writing prose - so it doesn't look like I'm going to get an update done today.

I'll try for late tonight or early tomorrow!


----------



## Indigo Veil

> I wanna watch Greppa climb into the hole of damnation like a pig into mud, not slip into it.




<laugh> I dunno...watching him slip into it might actually be fairly amusing, since that way he won't immediately know that he's "giving into the Dark side," or however that quote goes. (I'm don't watch Star Trek, or Star Wars, or wherever that's from. ^^;; I often get the two confused, in fact.) <shields herself from an angry barrage of rotten lettuce heads> 

I think I can be fairly sure, though, that once he actually rolls around in that hole of damnation, he'll revel in it. Oh yes, we'll know what it means when we hear the maniacal, high pitched laughter cutting through the air. <singsong voice> Tha'd be our li'l Greppa, all growed up, bringin' death and destruction to all who dare oppose him. Awww, inn't he cuuUuuUuUUute? ^_^ 



> Altruism....that's all it was pure Altruism.




<gives a derisive snort> Shyeah, and _I'm_ Ghandi's new incarnation. We can keep telling ourselves this, Hank-kun, and maybe we'll bring some good into this world yet. Mind you, my hopes for that aren't high.


----------



## seasong

Some background for those NOT in on the joke:

In the superhero soap opera campaign I'm running, Greppa's player is running a Dr. Strange-esque sorcerer. Last session, he sold his soul to Mephisto in return for giving him Magneto's powers, so he could fight off the Authority (who had come to "fix" his Earth). It really was altruistic, but we make fun of him for it anyway . And, naturally, there wasn't a fight, so the sacrifice was largely in vain.

On the other hand, his character and Mephisto are so far getting along like peanut butter and chocolate, so maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. And he _does_ still have Magneto's powers, no small thing...


----------



## seasong

*North*

For a moment or two, everyone stood there, absorbing. The second armorcat had run away with the death scream of the first. Two lay dead. Merideth was healing Athan.

Then the redheaded merc shrugged inside her leather jerkin and started stripping off the valuables on her late comrade. Athan, Greppa and Merideth were a bit shocked, but no one else seemed to notice. Then the two bodies were buried over the remainder of the day, while Uridates chafed at the delay in his wine business.

When the bodies were buried, the redhead finally showed some emotion over the battle.

"We can't just leave it!"

"There's no way we're hauling that thing around. Corpses start to stink, you know."

"But... That thing's worth a lot of money!"

No one was willing to share a wagon with an armorcat corpse, however, least of all Uridates, so she finally started trying to skin it, to at least get part of its hide.

Which would have been good, if she'd known how. Instead, she ended up with a meaty tarp and a lot of blood. Finally, she left it behind, and grumbled about lost value for several miles of winding valley road. Greppa barely slept that night. He trusted the foreigners even less than before.

Athan, on the other hand, was the center of attention. Mithas and Tital had been bashing their swords into the armorcat's back when Athan had broken its neck with his bare hands, and they were mightily impressed. Even after Athan explained Greppa's spell to them. The three stayed up for most of the night, talking about past battles.

Mithal and Tital were each the third child of wealthy families, and had been raised warriors before figuring out how useless they were to their families. They'd headed out to adventure and live by their wits, and had been together for four years thus far, and had met all manner of wild creatures, although never an armorcat. For his part, Athan told them of his fight with Gach, and all three traded a few war stories.

The days after that passed more easily. Another armorcat was spotted, and spears and swords were brought out. It lazily watched them from the rocks above the trail, then stretched to its feet and padded off. And then, the Southpass into the Aglaonis valleys loomed ahead.


----------



## Talix

Hey there seasong!  Just wanted to pop in to say that I do still read and enjoy this story hour very much, I just do it very sporadically.    But that's ok, because it means there's lots of updates to read when I do.  

I love the inter-character dynamics of this group - the small size really lets you focus on the relationships more than a larger group would.  It's a lot of fun to read about.  

So thanks for writing, and keep it up!  Even if you do hear from me more rarely than not.


----------



## Caliber

Oooh! New unexplored land! 

Do we get some acadamia on this area? Or not until after the players?


----------



## Delgar

Hey Seasong,

Just letting you know that I'm still reading and still enjoying. I wish I had something interesting, witty or inciteful to say but I'm at a loss. Keep up the good work.

Although I do have a question, you use armor as DR correct? I'm just curious how well that system works and that if you did use it for the classed system would you give classes a defense rating like in the star wars system to keep Armor classes increase. Also, what about magical armor, do you have it increase the DR? I'm curious because I'd like to use armor as DR in a gladiator campaign, I'm going to start (Go to the plots thread and help me ouT!), but I don't know if I want to steal your classless system (I don't know if my players could handle it).

Sorry for Hijacking your thread! Keep up the good work!

Delgar


----------



## seasong

Thanks for the votes of confidence . It does help .

Academia: Maybe. I'll definitely post some Area Knowledge for the region, sometime between now and the next narrative post.

DR Rules/Droolz: I answered this in the Character sheet thread.

Vicious teaser: The future is hazy, but somewhere in it, I see.. an arcanist stopping a 50 pound boulder with his face.


----------



## seasong

*Aglaonis*

The Aglaonis city-state is almost due north, and a bit west, of Theralis, but the only passable trail through the miles of valley and mountain curves to the east, and takes roughly a week and a half to traverse with wagons.

Aglaonis is Theralis' older sister in terms of city-states, and has about a thousand years of history. Population-wise, however, it is only slightly larger than Theralis (some 60,000 people in the city) and has much the same architectural style, being semi-randomly jammed together arches, pillars, and other beautiful structures. The Aglaonis valleys are wider, flatter, more generous than the Theralis valleys, and are mostly turned over to farmland (the appearance of which often comes as a shock to Theralese natives) - instead of narrow trails and vineyards, Aglaonis is sprawled out green rectangles, full of animals and elegant, flat housing.

The city-state has its own warrior tradition, called the Farmer Code, which primarily consists of taking big, wedge-cut rectangles of iron, hammering a curved hilt into it, and whacking the heck out of your opponent with it until he stops moving. The Farmer Code is not formalized, but those who are particularly good at it often develop skill sets that could be called martial, and pass it on to others by informal training. Perhaps one in four Aglaonese citizens are reasonably skilled in the Farmer Code, with the remainder being city craftsfolk and other specialists.

_Note: Although less suited to warfare than the Theralis methods, the Farmer Code is very effective in personal combat, and Aglaonis has primarily survived the orc invasion by dint of taking lots of losses, and facing off against their heroes. This is more classical savage warfare, and has resulted in population drift. Also unlike Theralis, the city has had little to do with the defense - most of the fighters are farmers, led by city-bred captains._

Politically, Aglaonis is very different from her sister-state. Rather than a military-dominated council, Aglaonis is governed by farmer's moots, in which land owners gather in their sub-state and argue about matters of state, before choosing a representative to meet in the city with other sub-state representatives to argue for what the local group agreed upon. Matters of state often take an arbitrarily long period of time to decide upon, and locals often take matters into their own hands until a decision is handed down. As bureaucratic as it is, however, it works, and the people of Aglaonis tend to view any solution as coming in two parts - the part where you apply a makeshift solution to hold the problem off while you consider, and the part where you make a considered judgement and act on it. They are very forgiving of first impulses, and tend to apologize a lot.

Aglaonis worships Demis strongly, much like Dianas is worshipped in Theralis.


----------



## SpaceBaby Industries

Seasong, I've been reading this story from it's inception, and I must say it is not only an excellent tale of adventure, but an impressive display of detail and creativity.  If a story hour retelling a campaign can be this enjoyable to read, I can only imagine what it would be like as a participant.

You've got me hands down in the DM and originality categories without question.  Thank goodness my avatar is cuter than yours, or I'd have nothing to talk myself up with.

Looking forward to your future installments.


----------



## seasong

Thanks! And welcome to ENWorlds!


----------



## seasong

I just uploaded the updated PDF of the story hour. It now includes story up to page 5. I would have done more, but it's hard work .

Seriously, I hope to be caught up on the PDF version by next weekend, and be able to start filling in sidebars and whatnot after that.


----------



## seasong

The following is just a pair of vignettes of impressions in Aglaonis. What the PCs actually did was wander around, occasionally follow Uridates, get drunk, and chat with Mithas and Tital.

*Trading in Aglaonis*

_Quick note on trade: The wilds are dangerous, but usually an armed escort of 5-10 people deters 99% of all attackers. This isn't because the attackers think they will lose, but because the cost of winning will be too high. An orc warband could kill and capture 10 humans, but might lose 3-5 orcs in the process, more than 10% of their fighting strength. Most merchants trade twice a year, once in the late summer and once in the early winter, so that they can pool resources and travel in larger clumps. Uridates left considerably earlier than normal, however._

Uridates was a man of consumate greed. He knew the names of obscure, distant gods of coin, and had a lucky coin in every denomination he had ever encountered. He could identify precious metals by touch, taste, smell and sight, and could spot many forgeries merely by hefting it for weight. He also knew wine, as any Theralese merchant must, but more importantly, he knew how to sell it.

Each year, he made one extra trip up to Aglaonis. While other merchants were puttering about selecting this or that wine, and storing it for road trip amongst the huddled mass of frightened merchants, Uridates delegated that task to his assistants, gathered as wide a selection of wines as he could, and trundled up north alone save for one assistant and as many mercenaries as he could bear to part gold for.

The trick, you see, was samplers.

Wine tasting, although not so sophisticated as in Theralis, was a popular sport among the upper class of Aglaonis, a vice which Uridates was a powerful supporter for. He would sponsor competitions, and then charge entry fees to make up for it. He would visit with top wine tasters and share Theralis wine tasting lore with them. He'd not built it up, but he did everything in his power to maintain interest.

And then, in the midsummer month, he would come into Aglaonis with a wide variety of the year's wines, and sell them to those seeking some advantage in the wine tasting to come. He charged higher prices, to "make up for the danger of bringing this to you early", and as the only supplier, made a killing.

Making a killing warmed Uridates' tiny gold-plated heart.

Along the way to the city of Aglaonis itself, he sold a few bottles to this or that old friend, but he saved the bulk for the city. In Theralis, a glass of the finest wine could cost as much as 10 chalk, a bottle as much as 6-7 argur. Here, Uridates could sell a bottle of fairly good wine for a minimum of 20 argur, and have the person thank him for bringing it.

Ten mercenaries, times 20 argur each, meant he needed sell only a baker's dozen of bottles to pay their wages. That also warmed his tiny, gold-plated heart.

*Beer*

Athan was the first to discover it, when Mithas and Tital dragged him down to a tavern for a "blooding ceremony". In Theralis, beer was a beggar's drink, usually a weak fermentation of wheat and water that tasted only a bit better than riverwater. In Aglaonis, where fields of wheat seemed to coat everything in sight, beer had been brought to a level of art that Athan could barely imagine.

There were beers of a dark, richly brown demeanor, and a thick flavor that refused to be pinned down. There were pale beers that were subtle and cool. And it seemed that every family in Aglaonis had a special mixture all their own, passed down as secret traditions.

Wine was still superior, but beer had just gotten a whole lot better.

By the end of the three days they spent in Aglaonis, all three of the youths had sampled as many as they could, and enjoyed a rather rousing bout of drunkeness. Greppa, more forward thinking, managed to acquire two mini-kegs of his favorite flavors, and hid them away from himself for the trip home.

*Foreign Libraries*

When he wasn't being dragged off for beer sampling by the other two, Greppa discovered the Aglaonis _phronein purgis_ (tower of knowledge/wisdom), a two story collection of written knowledge collected over the past several centuries. While Theralis had its own _phronein purgis_, the Theralis tower was less than 300 years old, and more of an imitation of this one.

The Aglaonis tower included annual almanacs dating back more than 750 years, scrolls written by the founders of the city-state, narratives of events over the course of centuries, scholarly treatises on the planes... the latter of which Greppa was sorely torn to leave when the time came.

*Athletics*

Although the people of Aglaonis did not pursue quarterstaffing, they were avid wrestlers and sprinters, and Athan found time during the afternoons to participate. The Aglaonese accepted him rather easily, particularly with Mithas and Tital vouching for him, and his natural athleticism fared well in the foreign city.

Merideth spent a lot of time at the athletic competitions as well, but mostly to watch.

*Return*

To the provincial youths, Aglaonis was exotic and strange. They sampled that strangeness, but when Uridates was ready to return, they were eager for a brief passage of familiarity as well. To Athan and Merideth's disappointment, the trip home was reasonably boring, although they spotted another armorcat (or perhaps the same one from before?) at a distance.

Then Greppa locked away his two kegs for sharing in the future, Athan and Merideth put away a few keepsakes in their rooms, and everyone slept like the dead for a day.


----------



## J. Anson

*Beer*



			
				seasong said:
			
		

> Along the way to the city of Aglaonis itself, he sold a few bottles to this or that old friend, but he saved the bulk for the city. In Theralis, a glass of the finest wine could cost as much as 10 chalk, a bottle as much as 6-7 argur. Here, Uridates could sell a bottle of fairly good wine for a minimum of 20 argur, and have the person thank him for bringing it.
> 
> Ten mercenaries, times 20 argur each, meant he needed sell only a baker's dozen of bottles to pay their wages. That also warmed his tiny, gold-plated heart.




I take it, then, that a "fairly good" wine in Theralis costs about 4 argur? (((20-4)*13) = 208, thin profit)

(I was gonna pick on your math until I noticed the distinction between 'finest' and 'fairly good'... oh well)

Also:



> *Beer*




Thank you.  For beer being the most common drink in fantasy games, there's just not enough appreciation for how good it gets. I'd _like_ to think that my own beer snobbery influenced you putting that little tidbit in there, but I guess I'll never know 

Is Uridates, as a wine snob native of Theralis himself, just blind to the prospect of moving beer on the return trip? Given he has to go back to Theralis and has to pay the mercenaries for the trip back anyway, it seems that a truly greedy person, blind to all bias but money, would jump at the opportunity to bring back beer, possibly under a different name ("ale" or some other uncommon word for beer in Theralis), and sell it as an exotic alternative to wine.

I'm not saying Uridates should be so greedy, it seems reasonable that even someone who considers himself deeply greedy couldn't think past his bias ("beer is for beggars"); but perhaps watching his mercenaries react to good beer will open his eyes, and in a few years of game time beer tasting will be a big fashion in Theralis...


----------



## seasong

*Re: Beer*



			
				J. Anson said:
			
		

> I take it, then, that a "fairly good" wine in Theralis costs about 4 argur? (((20-4)*13) = 208, thin profit)



Not so thin. For 13 wine bottles, he's paid off 95% of his operating expenses. Everything after that is 80% profit, and, after padding and supplies, he's got room for about 120 bottles worth, for a total profit of around 1,700 argur.







> I'd _like_ to think that my own beer snobbery influenced you putting that little tidbit in there, but I guess I'll never know



It definitely influenced it.







> Is Uridates, as a wine snob native of Theralis himself, just blind to the prospect of moving beer on the return trip?



No, he has a much better reason: beer isn't as profitable as cheese, flour, "Aglaonis prime smoked meat", and a dozen other things, by weight or volume. Theralis, keep in mind, doesn't produce enough of the necessities themselves, they have to import it. Uridates and other merchants like him are the primary importers.

Beer is also a riskier venture, since Theralese citizens view beer as a "beggar's drink", making it a hard sell in any case. Which isn't to say that Uridates doesn't enjoy a good beer! But he is less provincial than the people he sells to, and he knows his markets.







> I'm not saying Uridates should be so greedy, it seems reasonable that even someone who considers himself deeply greedy couldn't think past his bias ("beer is for beggars"); but perhaps watching his mercenaries react to good beer will open his eyes, and in a few years of game time beer tasting will be a big fashion in Theralis...



Note: Uridates would not be the one to sow such changes, but he'd be the first to jump on it if it looked profitable. And Greppa may manage to instigate the first few minikegs of trade between the two city-states. At which point Uridates may become the Merchant Prince of Alcohol or some such, a nicely profitable title he'd be gleeful to possess.


----------



## seasong

*Vignette: Olgah's Journey*

_Gengah oht_. Whispers on the wind carried the word to her. The rustle of trees, the rush of streams, lent force to the word. Among orcs, the phrase means, roughly, "to take back" with overtones of violence. It meant vengeance. It meant satisfying the dead. It meant _nemesis_.

Olgah had always dealt well with the spirits of the forest, and as a shaman, that was who she normally worked with on behalf of her tribe. But it was her ancestors who spoke to her now. There were a lot more of them, enough that she could barely sleep without them driving her onward. Her eyes red-rimmed, her hair unkempt, she let them.

Now, in the valley ahead of her, after many months of searching, she had found them. The Uhkamah tribe. The dragon was out of her reach, beyond her powers for now. _They_ were not.

As morning sun lit the Uhkamah valley, _gengah oht_ swept howling down into the enemy.


----------



## Caliber

A greedy merchant! It warms my heart to see one done justice.

Too often greedy merchants simply equal quasi-evil villian type. 

Sounds like Olgah is pissed too.


----------



## seasong

Greppa, if you're around today, I'm trying to remember how much time passed between arriving back at the tower, and the next, ah, major set of events. I want to think it was like 8 months or so, but I just can't remember.

I know Greppa did some research, so I thought you might remember.


----------



## snownoir

*HRm*

Hrm. I really don't know. A few months passed because we were doing research and getting our feet wet haunting old ruins practicing for real adventuring...then the "events" started. And the other stuff happened soon after.


----------



## seasong

Oh well. I'll try to figure it out when I have more time.

Greedy Merchants: Thanks, Caliber! And usually, those quasi-evil villain-types are greedy and _stupid_, eh? Burns my hide, it does.


----------



## snownoir

Whatever the time frame they had to end in the summer becasue that's when the events began and we timed it for that.


----------



## seasong

I remembered a few more things from the visit to Aglaonis, and editted them in to the trade & beer post. They are titled "Foreign Libraries" and "Athletics". No other changes were made.


----------



## seasong

*Intermission: Passing Time*

Once back in Theralis, each of the youths had things to take care of, and so time passed.

Greppa had seen notes on a lost mine between Aglaonis and Theralis, mentioned in the footnote of a narrative about something else entirely, and had connected it to something similar mentioned in an old Theralis story, so he began reading at the Theralis _phronein purgis_, looking for clues. He also continued to study Hurath's private library, both learning more of the arcanist art and attempting to master the fireball he lusted after.

Merideth began visiting and spending time with some of the espers in Theralis, few though they were, and began establishing connections. Or trying to. Espers are a shy lot, and it took several months for Merideth to even find out who they were. Still, once she had managed that, she found a mentor in Hathamos, an _ellini_ of older mien and lonely demeanor.

Athan, of course, continued strengthening his bonds with the Keraunesti, and began training for the _Olympiad_, a test of athletic prowess held every five years in Theralis. He would finally be old enough for it by the end of the next summer, and wanted to be ready.

All too soon, summer was arriving. Greppa thought he knew where the mine might be located, but he'd started to have second thoughts. The mine equalled a solid source of wealth for the trio, if they could find and restore it. But it was getting close to time for the orcs to hit again... and he also wanted to search for the orcs that had attacked the Bunahken.

Finally, he discussed it with Athan and Merideth. Athan's reply was simple, "The mine will still be there in a year. The Theralese captured by the orc tribe won't. And we _have_ to be here in the first part of summer, in case Theralis needs us."

And with that, the decision was made.


----------



## Talix

Heh, I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of Olgah's tale - For Great Justice... er, Vengence!


----------



## seasong

The PCs fought at Eastpass during the first orc invasion. They were sixteen at the time, and were near the end of their year of Service. They were then orc slaves for slightly less than a year, and returned to Theralis in time for the second invasion (they fought at Theralis Ridge), in which Kyriotes helped turn the tide. Intersperced into this was recovering a lost temple of Allas, visiting home, the merchant journey to Aglaonis, and most of a year spent in research. They are turning 18 just as this section of the storyline starts (and Athan is now old enough to compete in the Olympiad, which will start a year later).

*War? Again?*

Athan, Greppa and Merideth were now 18 years of age, and Theralis was preparing for the third year of battle with the orcs. Each year, near the early part of summer, a wave of tribes would lash against the mountain slopes, only to crumble against the Theralis shield walls. And every year, the scouts had to learn the names of the new tribes, for it seemed that the same ones never attacked twice. There was definitely something causing it.

The scouts and espers had determined at least some things about orc activity beyond the mountain ridge. The tribes were warring among themselves as well, further east, and the death toll there was horrendous. Scavengers of all sorts littered a number of eastern valleys, while the predator population swelled. Many of the smaller tribes were banding together for common survival, and working to tackle and take down some of the largest tribes... a good sign, by Theralese reckoning.

Or it was, until one of those largest tribes, fleeing the heel-nipping of a small tribe alliance, crossed 120 miles in a day and showed up at Theralis' doorstep. With insufficient warning, the initial shield walls still held, but the spell casters were still stumbling out of bed and running upslope while fighting was going on.

Greppa noticed a troop of soldiers running _into_ the city, and when he looked, saw far too much smoke coming from Kyriotes' tower. He had to ignore that for now, however - he had his own job to do. He began summoning earth spirits into the Keraunesti soldiers, in the hope that it would keep some of them alive when they might otherwise die.

And then the Keraunesti were on the move, stopping a gap that had opened, and Greppa, pulled along to keep pumping out _earth's strength_, forgot about it entirely.

War had arrived.


----------



## seasong

This is a long one, and wraps up Olgah's tale for a while.

*Olgah's Tale*

*13 years ago.*

It took a few months, but the shaman managed to gain the duo's trust. And with time, tamed both sufficiently to bring them into the fold of the Bunahken. The child was named Olgah ("great river") by the shaman, who foresaw great things for her. The wolf was named Beshgah ("great wolf"), primarily because the orcs admired her cunning... with the exception of Agahken.

As Olgah learned to speak orc, and became accustomed to the tribe, her cleverness shone through. The shaman adopted her as his own, and began teaching her his ways.

*9 years ago.*

Olgah, nearly full grown, had stopped riding the wolf years ago, and was more often seen running through the woods alone, catching hares and making broth for the old bitch. Now Beshgah lay curled into the soft rabbit-hide bed Olgah had made for her on winter nights. Last night, they had not been enough. Beshgah's sleeping form was still and cold.

The old shaman held Olgah's head to his shoulder as she wept. He loved her dearly, but she was too weak, to cry so freely at the death of a wolf long since given to winter. Finally, he harshened his features, stiffened his arms, and pushed her away. Glaring into her red-eyed face, he reprimanded her: "Olgah! You know better than this! The wolf was long since given to winter, and waited only her time to go. That she stayed so long is proof of her love of you, the bond between your hearts. Let her go, and give your grief to the mountains. Let them weep rivers for you, while you are needed here, by your people!"

Then he softened his tone, "Olgah, our people are called the Bone Ache because we know regret so dearly, and we understand what pain comes with loss. But you are an adult. You will see death many times, but you are needed here. I will not be around forever, either, and then our people will need you more than ever."

The young orc took a deep, choked breath and held it. Her eyes dried, slowly, as she pushed her pain down, deep into her bones, and into the mountain beneath her. Beshgah was gone.

*5 years ago.*

With dry eyes, Olgah oversaw the burial of the shaman. He had been a good mentor, and had taught her what she needed to know. But part of her wished he'd left her in the forest with Beshgah.

When she was done, she was the new shaman, coming of age, and coming into power, in the same year. She looked over her people, _her people_, and spoke.

"Before our ancestors, I accept this solemn vow: to care for you when you are wounded, to avenge you when you are dead, and to aid your endeavors when you deserve it. The spirits *speak through me and act through me. This is done.*"

*Six Months Ago*

The people of the Uhkemah tribe looked up and east in the predawn light, but saw nothing. A pack of wolves was howling, despite the early hour, and one or two warbands discussed the feasibility of hunting them down to shut them up.

And then the sun crested the mountain, preventing vision, and wolf spirits poured down the mountain into the valley. Five had fur like orc air, and looked particularly savage. One was immense, easily eight feet at the shoulder, and bore a howling orc woman on its back. Her hair was wild, and she bore a spear that shook with ancestral energy.

The wolves ripped into the valley, with vicious purpose. Dodging most of the orcs, they targetted the leaders, the chief and shaman, the strongest warbands, the oldest matriarchs, and slaughtered them and their families ruthlessly. The damage done, the wolves faded into the morning mists, only to hound the Uhkemah in hunting for weeks after, until the tribe changed its name to Beshbeg ('wolf-bit'), and fled north until the curse seemed abated.

The young orcs who had accompanied Olgah, sacrificed to fuel the spells that had worked her curse, laughed and lolled their tongues at her before running off with their new brethren. They were free now, of her burden. For Olgah, the burden was just beginning.

Olgah would gather power to herself. She would journey east and find answers and powerful spirits to aid her. And then, hopefully, the final _gengah oht_ could be achieved. Amalan.


----------



## snownoir

She's an ambitous git isn't she?


----------



## Indigo Veil

> She's an ambitous git isn't she?




<giggle> Maybe, but I wuv 'er! ^_^


----------



## seasong

Just a bit of a head's up... the PCs hit 5th level this past weekend. This is coinciding with the PCs gaining more responsibility (strategic events, non-grunt roles, etc.) and shifting into 'real' adulthood, and with the narrative threads tying together. In short, the real stories!

With that in mind, I think that after writing up this year's war (which comes in two parts, as the Theralese fight off one group just in time to get hit with the next), I'm going to close off here, and start a new thread with a brief summary of the story so far, and take the PCs from there as if _this_ was the beginning of the story.

Which, in some ways, it is.

I don't think this will be particularly controversial, but I would like some feedback on the idea - does it sound stupid? Excellent? Confusing?

At this point, I'm also considering doing this at 10th level (the shift from heroes to legendary heroes) and at 20th level (the shift from legendary to epic).


----------



## Caliber

Gasp! But ... but ... multiple threads? The Insanity!  

Actually it sounds like a pretty good idea. In fact I did something similar way back in the day for my first story hour here (alas, between me not writing it anymore, and the boards changing, it has been lost to cyberspace)

All I suggest is that you put a link to the new thread here (for us people who get lost easily.)


----------



## Greybar

good call.  threads can get unwieldy after too long.  Please do link back to this one, in case late-comers to your wonderful saga want to read the original!

John


----------



## seasong

Well, I would cross-link both ways, of course! I'm also hoping to have a completed PDF up to the current point, as well.

Any criticisms? Other suggestions?


----------



## Caliber

My complaint centers around the lack of 5th level PCs in the Rogues Gallery thread.

We want stats man!  

But honestly, the combination of a cool House Rule system and general non-required lore about your Setting has quickly made this one of my favorite Story Hours, defintely one of the ones I plan keeping up with.

Keep up the good work, and thanks!


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> *My complaint centers around the lack of 5th level PCs in the Rogues Gallery thread.*



*I'll post those when the PCs hit 5th in the text. Also, not all of them are finalized yet - Athan and Greppa are still being tweaked.








			But honestly, the combination of a cool House Rule system and general non-required lore about your Setting has quickly made this one of my favorite Story Hours, defintely one of the ones I plan keeping up with.
		
Click to expand...


Thank you . What's "general non-required lore"?*


----------



## seasong

*The End of the Warband*

Kyriotes finally showed up, already near-exhausted by the defense of his tower (he now had reason to regret building the tallest, most impressive-looking tower in Theralis), and stood back from the battle. He cast one fire lion into the tribes, near collapsed, and then watched as the firelion was dispatched with unholy efficiency - the orcs took its charge, set their spears, and then flung themselves at it until it died.

Greppa and Merideth only barely noticed. They were busy handling magical energies and trying not to collapse themselves. Athan did, however, and began to wonder if the spell casters were going to be able to influence the tide of battle at all, today.

The next few hours exacted a terrible toll. The orcs, intitially driven back by the wall, turned out to have a strategist for a chieftain. And a charismatic one. Within the hour, the orcs were hammering on the shield wall again, but with dire purpose - while several orcs would guard the others with their spears, others would be tossed, mosh pit style, over the shields to lay about them until they died or opened a path for the rest of their warband to pour through. More paths opened than not, and the shield wall had to almost continuously retreat and reform.

Spears were set, and many tossed orcs died, but enough got through that the usual 5-10 orcs dead per Theralis soldier had dropped to only slightly better than a one to one ratio.

It was a gruesome fight, and morale was quavering, when the orcs finally withdrew. Retreating downslope at rates of speed only savages seemed to ever manage, they grinned and leered at the Theralese. The drums pounded enthusiastically, almost maniacally, and orcs stomped their spears and cavorted to the beat.

It was only in the settling dust of the battlefield that the real lesson hit home: the orcs weren't attacking in individual warbands, seeking glory or glorious death. They'd fought en masse, and set their strongest units to the weak points in the shield wall. They were organized. Disciplined. Dying individually to ensure victory for the larger group.

The orcs in this tribe were from the east, and were hardened by at least three years of fighting with their own kind. They were tougher and more successful than the others, not because of their numbers, but because of their tactics.

*Vignette: Agina's Thoughts*

Somewhere upslope, Captain Agina watched the Keraunesti drag their tired bodies back from the battlefield, the almost shattered shield wall slump on their feet, other captains and soldiers both look haggard, worn, fearful. She knew that if they didn't believe in the unstoppable Theralese war machine, the war machine would not be unstoppable.

She cursed the slow among the spell casters, who were only now straggling in, still tugging on tunics or sandals. She cursed the orc leader for being too smart. She cursed whatever tribe had driven this tribe here... and hoped to Hethas that they didn't come here.

The orcs would attack when morale had had sufficient time to collapse, she knew. It was what she would do. So morale had to be recovered, and quickly.

Swiftly, Agina strode to the General's tents. She wanted to make a pre-emptive, successful strike. Fast, hard, unexpected. She would need spell casters, and a lot of permission.


----------



## Caliber

Academia by another name.  

I quite enjoy the little tid-bits you include that really make your setting more realistic. The Culture-y things about Theralis and its people, or about the Wine Traders who move between Theralis and Aglaonis.


----------



## seasong

Caliber said:
			
		

> I quite enjoy the little tid-bits you include that really make your setting more realistic. The Culture-y things about Theralis and its people, or about the Wine Traders who move between Theralis and Aglaonis.



_GASP!_ You mean that's non-required? I thought it was, like, a union rule or something .

I'm glad you like it. I'm working on the Olympiad right now. And some more bestiary (some scavengers, another large predator or two, a large herbivore). I've been kind of lax about posting world details the past two weeks, so I'm going to try to make up for it .


----------



## seasong

*OLYMPIAD*

The people of Theralis are a physically competitive people, even more so than many of their neighbors. When the Theralese first freed themselves from the orcs, their initial culture formed from a combination of the physicality of orcs and some jealousy for the educated learning and civilization of their northern neighbors. Over time, this hodge podge of goals and habits were forged by military dominance, the prominence of grapes (and heroes of Dianas), and the dangers of the wilderness into what it is today.

The Olympiad's origins stem from the Century Riot, 300+ years ago. At that time, the Council deliberated and set aside the Century Mark as a time of celebration - something to look forward to rather than something to panic over.

A century later, in light of an attack by Amalan (a village had encroached too far) and other signs of the apocalypse, the Council planned a party sufficiently incredible that people could forget. And to honor the heroes that had died against Amalan, they staged a mock mass battle between well known athletes and a "dragon" constructed of wood. Between the mock battle (which ended with a lot of injuries, smiles, and a small riot in the southern Open Square), informal contests of athleticism and skill (that spontaneously broke out between distant country folk), and the immense consumption of wine that occurred, a _tradition_ started.

Within a decade, that tradition gelled into the Olympiad, a two-day event sponsored by wealthy vineyards every five years (timed to coincide with Century Celebrations as well) in which athletes competed for grapevine wreaths while wine flowed like water among the spectators. Over the intervening centuries, this (like the Century Celebration) has been refined and extended, until it swelled to its current length of 10 days, with a dozen small rituals associated with it.

*The Dragon Play/Opening Ceremony*

Of the rituals of Olympiad, the dragon battle is the first and most prominent. It has evolved into more of a theatrical play, and encompasses more than just the one battle. Instead, it now covers the relationship between Amalan and Theralis (many citizens are curious how the latest development will be incorporated). Thera is almost always played by a prominent actress or poetess, but otherwise the roles are fluid. Each Olympiad, the play is put in the hands of a different playwright to interpret, although the most basic facts of history must be covered correctly.

*Contests*

Almost every conceivable athletic contest is present, from quarterstaffing to sprinting to heaving rocks and spears at targets. The captains of the military often hold sword fighting demonstrations, while the wine merchants often sponsor drinking contests (for stamina). The most popular are the quarterstaff, wrestling, and feats of strength, although many others are very popular as well.

_Athan plans to participate in feats of strength and wrestling, and spear throwing. Greppa was thinking about quarterstaffing, until he saw the real competitors practicing!_

*Wine*

"At Olympiad, the rest of the world goes dry." For three days, roughly 200-300 Theralese athletes compete with each other. The remaining 20,000 to 100,000 people at the Olympiad drink. Wine tasting tournaments, cups purchased at the stadia, where ever there are people, there is alcohol. For most vineyards, this is the banner year for profits, and for merchants (who are unable to buy as much as normal for the north) it is usually a rotten year. Still, few complain. That's Olympiad!


----------



## seasong

So, I've got a new sig, that's far more pimpalicious. I designed it around the Dr Midnight pimp sigs, but it still looks kind of bulky to me. Any thoughts or suggestions? Is it just tacky?

If I seem to be having an attack of questions.... well, I am . I've reached the point in the story hour where I'm confident of my ability to continue it, to maintain some consistency, and that to keep it interesting. Which means that I'm ready to start pimping, drawing people in, etc. But I'd like to do so without being too tacky or gaudy.

The sig I've got is definitely pushing it, and I may have to start turning it off after my first post in any given thread or something.

_Edit: Got rid of other sig. One o' my players thought it was tacky. Please see further down for the new sig._


----------



## incognito

Yo!

Seasong, old boy -just a quick note to say I'm back (liek you didn't know frmo the IRONDM thingie).

Still catching up on the reading, but good god, it is a godsend so far!

You have my vote for a new thread detailing mid levels.
As far a he sig file goes.  Smaller  = better.  
Think about those with a slower internet connection (I have a T1)

And get to posting in that IronDM thread, slacker - your number is up next!


----------



## seasong

*Giants*



> _From the website, under Races_
> "Giants (NPC): Although rare (in a vein similar to the giants of English mythology), giants do exist. They are typically 16-20 feet tall, immensely strong, and rather stupid. There is no viking-esque division of types (frost, fire, etc.), they just are. Individuals often have deformities which make them seem distinct, however (cyclops, ettin, etc.). "



Giants are not well known in the Theralis region, but have occasionally been seen. For the most part, giants are big, lumbering children of the wild, content to eat what they can catch, sleep curled against cliffs or mountain sides, amuse themselves by tossing things at other things... mostly harmless, occasionally dangerous, and almost always far away from civilized regions where they tend to be attacked and hurt.

However, making any kind of sweeping statement about giants is dangerous, for they are creatures of primal clay, and more prone to change than most. Giants may be born with one eye, or three, two heads, or four arms... they range in size from a pathetic ten feet in height to an awe-inspiring thirty feet, and some are particularly foolish.. or frighteningly intelligent. In ancient mythology, of civilizations prior to Theralis' birth, there was said to be a giant of incredible size and cunning (Aphoros) who became a world-reknown smith, forging weapons and armor of great power before aging gracefully and dying in his sleep, millenia ago.

Still, certain commonalities do occur. A number of giants, slightly smaller and smarter than their brethren, are said to live in the north, while giants of colossal proportion are said to walk the forests far to the south. And while the specifics of all giants can not be nailed down, most are, essentially, very large children and can be reasoned with as such.


----------



## snownoir

Now you're just being wrong, wrong, wrong. Don't keep me...er I mean them in suspense. Want more war!


----------



## seasong

snownoir said:
			
		

> Now you're just being wrong, wrong, wrong. Don't keep me...er I mean them in suspense. Want more war!



Wrong? Me?

Seriously, it looks like I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow to post more. Work closing in, cutting off air!


----------



## seasong

Here's the new sig. Let me know what you think.


----------



## seasong

Some other sig possibilities: Same as above, but minus the little man and adding in an orc spear (spearhead to the left) separating the word lines. I also thought of taking an image of a greek vase, maybe a wartime scene, and shifting it from red to black and white.

The sig is currently 10K, only slightly larger than most avatars, so it should be handily within reach of any modem that can handle avatars.


----------



## Capellan

Looks good to me, seasong.  Quite eye-catching, without taking up half the screen


----------



## Caliber

The vase sounds pretty cool, but the little dude is nice already.


----------



## seasong

As is likely apparent, I'm behind. Work today is like work yesterday afternoon... killing me.  I also have an IronDM to do this evening, blah blah blah.

Lesson Learned: Write ahead.

I'll see y'all tomorrow.


----------



## Greybar

Whew.  If you posted a Story Hour, held down a job, and wrote a Iron DM entry at the same time I think I'd just surrender the round to you... [grin]

John
p.s. I'm down to the editing part of the entry.  I figure that means I have 80% of my work ahead of me.  It is now 7pm...


----------



## seasong

*Victory*

It looked like a suicide run. Particularly to the troops being asked to do it. After all, it was hard enough holding the orcs off when they were just holding ground. And everyone remembered Eastpass.

Still, the people of Theralis are a tough breed. Soldiering is a rite of adulthood, risking their lives for their home an accepted fact of life. And Captain Agina was known as the hero of Eastpass, the one who lost the fewest soldiers, the one who went toe-to-toe with orcs over the last few stragglers, and knocked them down. So when the call came, the Theralese soldiers hefted shield and began marching downslope. The spearmen beat their hafts on the ground and shouted, drowning out the beating of orc war drums. The arcanists, reshuffled for an emphasis on long range attacks, waited for leaders to emerge for them to target. Those spell casters who couldn't do direct damage were shuffled into the midst of the soldiers, to lend what aid they could. Greppa, grouped with the Keraunesti, was still summoning earth spirits into soldiers when the front line hit the orcs.

For Greppa, the entire fight was one long nightmare. As orcs fell under the shields, he kept seeing them, in his mind's eye, break through and hold a spear to his neck. Still, he summoned earth spirits until tired, then tried hard to keep up with the other Keraunesti as they marched into and through orcs. Then, just as he thought he wouldn't march another step, the retreat was called, and orcs began to run away... he blinked. Once, twice.

An important lesson was learned: it was not power, or at least not raw power, but how it was applied. What had in desperation failed at Eastpass, had worked splendidly at Theralis Ridge... but the execution was different, he could see.

He studied the backs of the orcs, thoughtful.

For Athan, the entire fight was one long dream. Shouting with the other Keraunesti, he shoved his spear into and through the throat of a raging orc. As the shield carrier in front of him lodged the top of the tower shield into another orc's chin, Athan thrust his spear along the edge and neatly took the orc's head off. One orc, perhaps driven insane with fear, clambered over a shield only to get three spears in the chest, one of them Athan's. He and the others _heaved_, and lifted the orc high above them before reversing their efforts and flinging his body back over the shields into the waiting orcs. On and on and on they fought, indomitable and invincible against the dark horde.

It was glorious.

For Merideth, it was a start. The fighting was necessary, but she was beginning to believe that the birthmarks all three bore meant something more than being soldiers. She meant to find out what. In the meantime, she did what was necessary... but kept firmly in mind that she was going to go higher than this.

From the orc perspective, the battle very nearly over. They'd sacrificed individuals, but won a very handy moral victory, and had lost far fewer than normal, for the length of time. And the enemy... the enemy had lost more than the tribe, and could afford it less. And soon, according to the chief, they would attack, just as the grugach's will reached bottom. The humans would rout, and orcs would own the grugach city.

This, they told themselves, was the best kind of war.

And then the first yells. The grugach were advancing. Fast. Their shields held high, the enemy ran down the slope and the orcs nearest the midpoint of the mountain were shield-rushed, knocked down, and trampled before the first humans even managed to shove a spear downward, into suddenly vulnerable ribs. And, as the warband leaders began calling their bands together for battle, fireballs rained down on the strongest looking of them.

The psychological effect can not be over emphasized. The tribe was relaxed. Waiting for the call to a charge. The charge was brought to them. And hard.

As the Theralis troops slaughtered the orcs still grabbing their spears, as fireballs fell upon the heads of those who tried to organize... the tribe did the only thing they could. They ran.

First, however, they left the head of their chief on a pole, as an offering to appease the Theralese. When it was found, a great cry went up, and the Theralis shield wall retreated back up the mountain, where it belonged.

*Bad. Worse.*

A week passed after the surprising victory. Captain Agina received a number of laudations, as did the Keraunesti (and by extension, Athan, Greppa and Merideth). The three heroes returned to Greppa's tower, and thought about their next course of action. They decided to wait a bit, just to be sure about the orcs being gone, and Athan made a quick, half-day trip home.

Then, on the eve of the week's end, war drums were heard.

At first, there was simply anger - _hadn't the orcs learned?_ - but that quickly gave way to confusion. It was not the same tribe. Indeed, it barely looked like a tribe at all. More than a dozen appearances greeted those who looked down the mountain slope, as if a few tens of warbands had joined from numerous tribes.

Still, the people of Theralis were prepared. The shield wall was already up, and they were ready to fight. The orcs waited until night finished falling, then attacked in the dark. _Daylight_ spells dropped all around the sneaking orcs, and fireballs flew into their midst. It was a short fight.

A day passed, no attack. Night fell. Theralis readied. The orcs were heard marching upslope again. Daylight dropped upon them, and fireballs flew downward. This time, however, the orcs did not flee. They simply scattered.

And Miras, a middle-aged arcanist of good stature, standing perhaps fifteen feet left of Greppa and just starting to cast her second fireball... accellerated backward as if grabbed by some unseen force. As she hit the slope behind her, a fifty pound boulder shot up her chest from where it had hit, and bounced off her chin. She was dead.

Further down, two other arcanists were hit. One had caught the boulder in the face and his head had exploded like a droppde melon; the other one had been grazed, but was lying on the ground, clutching his leg and screaming.

Further down slope, just stepping out from among the trees as casually as a person might step from between curtains, were a threesome of giants.


----------



## seasong

So, Greybar, about that round? 

It's now 8:30 here, and I'm down to editting, too . Took a break to post this.


----------



## Capellan

seasong said:
			
		

> *Further down slope, just stepping out from among the trees as casually as a person might step from between curtains, were a threesome of giants. *




Well, that's really gotta ruin your day ...


----------



## Greybar

> So, Greybar, about that round?



B*strd!  

Well, my Iron DM entry is posted so I can go back to enjoying Theralis.  Wow!  Raise them up in hope and then bring in the next challenge.  I love how the overall conflict seems to be a sequence of one-up-manship.  Orcs overun humans, Shield Wall crushes overrun, Orcs tossed over Wall create breakthrus, more dynamic Keraunesti defeat breakthrus, arcanists with fireballs defeat gathering, giants defeat exposed arcanists ...

So the arcanists were counting on local shield-holders to keep any stray arrows or spears away before the giants arrived?  Or did they trust in the equivalent of a _protection from arrows_ spell too much?

John


----------



## seasong

Greybar said:
			
		

> So the arcanists were counting on local shield-holders to keep any stray arrows or spears away before the giants arrived?  Or did they trust in the equivalent of a _protection from arrows_ spell too much?



They relied on _range_. Upslope, and at the far-end of fireball range (500 feet), it's a rare orc that could make that throw (hell, Athan couldn't make that throw). For a giant with class levels, Far Shot and a 100 foot range increment, however, it's fish in a barrel time, even with penalties for upslope.

With that said, most mimicked Kyriotes' arrow protection spell as well, for as much good as it did.


----------



## Barastrondo

Okay, I've probably enjoyed this Story Hour without offering words of support in return for far too long than is polite, but...

This is just an excellent read, seasong. I like the characters, I like the NPCs, I like the "gritty enough to be realistic without being A Song of Ice and Fire" mood...

...and I _love_ the worldbuilding. The academia posts are almost my favorite parts of the Story Hour (but only almost, mind). The hell hunters are an example of how the fiendish template should be used in more games. The orcs are fascinating and sympathetic, but not so much that you can't root for the heroes. The notes on trade, alcohol, recreation, training, language — all much appreciated. I'm one of those folks who enjoys fantasy RPGs most of all when I get to either design my own worlds or explore someone else's, and your updates are just so detailed and evocative that I feel like I'm having as much fun as your players. Shameful, really.

So thanks for sharing with us, and don't kill yourself trying to do seventy-six updates a week. They _will_ be read and appreciated, of course, and we'll find them no matter how many threads you split the story among, but be sure and pace yourself so you don't keel over before the campaign is well and done.


----------



## Greybar

That's right, there isn't much in the way of longbows in the area is there?

Are slings and spears the primary range weapons then?  Are local shortbows not produced with military-level power (i.e. only good for squirrels) or has the society just not developed the bow/crossbow idea?

Answering myself by reading the Theralis page:


> Archery is known, but an accurate arrow takes more effort to make than an entire spear... and the mountains sharply reduce the range advantages of the bow. Add to that the years of extra practice required to make a good archer, and the spear wins out yet again.




John


----------



## Delgar

Hey Seasong,

Again another great entry. Nothing like a giant-sized migraine to ruin your day. I was just curious if you were going to put your world-building musings in the pdf version you're creating? Either in text or as an appendix.

Just thought I'd let you know good job keep up the good work. Also, I like your .pdf version it looks very nice! I wish more story hours would adopt this policy makes for great printing and easier reading!

Delgar

_P.S. hop on over to my gladiator thread in plots and help a poor D.M out!_


----------



## J. Anson

*Alcohol*

_I'm_ just waiting for them to come across a culture that focuses on whisky.

Yes, they've found good beer, and enjoyed it; naturally they enjoy fine wines. Now let them choke down a single malt Scotch 

Frankly, I'm quite interested in how vividly the (two) different cultures come across, based upon the different kinds of alcohol they enjoy.

It seems clear that a different sort of culture makes beer over wine; higher  populations make the meandering vineyard impractical, and the generally stronger sense of  "work" as a virtue among cities makes beer a favorite, since it involves more craftmanship than wine (wine-making being a leisurely, long-term agrarian pursuit).

I'm not sure what leads to whisky - it's a craft, to be sure, but the willingness to drink smelly crap you left lying in a barrel for 8 years seems kind of anti-Darwinian. (looking at websites devoted to Scotch, I see that even devoted lovers of it hesitate on this topic)

Vodka's much easier - something that looks and tastes like water, but doesn't freeze as quickly, has a strong appeal in regions where lakes can stay frozen for months. That it is distilled from virtually any organic matter to be found, rather than specific grapes or special barley or any such, makes it even more interesting in harsh winter.

(cutting short a fascinating topic to pretend my post is of an appropriate rating; but wow am I looking forward to the vodka-tasting this weekend now)


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

What's ironic, is that while I'm a player in this game, I can't wait for the updates either. Seasong's games always have something happening out of sight of the PC's. His entire world is active moving in its currents while the PC's make eddies in their own little play pool. 

It adds a whole new element of enjoyment to have access to that knowledge, even if it makes the players twitch violently.  Greppa, Athan and Merideth's players have a unique insight into their growing place in the worlds fabric and it becomes immensely choice driven as you, my fellow readers, will see as time goes on and the game progresses. 

Thanks for reading, as my little boy character becomes a little man. (With a REALLY big stick)

Hank.


----------



## incognito

I have to say, of all the story stuff, I like the main war story

I think it's also very interesting that all three PCs can go back to slaughtering Orcs after having lived amound them for a year - it should've "humanized" the humaniods.

Any thought on this from the players?

I love the battles both won, AND lost by the Orcs.  I have to admit, I like it when the giant's rocks smushed a few casters.  I felt bad for the Fireball battle being one sided.

Then again, I don't want to see a certain _elleni_ get hit by one!

1. Can we get a recap of total loses in tropps by the humans, vs loses by the Orcs?

2. Can we get some crunchy info on the giants over in the Rogues gallery, to see how they "stack up" vs a typical Orc, or atypical Athan?

3. ditto the crunchy info for the armor cats?

4. Loved the merchant chapter, want more, more more, on the details of the 3 heroes exploring the city, if there are any.  You are  so right about how too many merchants are portrayed in role playing games.

5.  WHere are you session wise?  Caught up, or behind again - the posts have been fast and furious.  I am ok with updates coming slower if you need more [coff]IronDM[/coff] time.  Your better than most other SH posters!

6...wait for it...there is no quesiton 6


----------



## seasong

Okay, note to self: more vile cliffhangers = commentary from the woodwork .

*Barastrondo:* If I did 76 updates a week, I would kill myself. Violently and messily. Fortunately, I barely manage that many a month . And thank you for the very kind words!

The orcs, I think I may have mentioned this before, were the original inspiration for this setting. Theralis had been under development (under the working title _nannedaisi_, mutilated greek for 'gentle river') for about a year, but nothing had really clinched it for roleplaying in until the orcs came along and dallied with my muse for a few days. She's been gleefully spitting gutteral insults ever since, so at least she's happy.

The rest of the world-building... well, this is how I do my campaigns . The players enjoy it, I think, and appreciate it, but it's hard to get them to _read it_. This story hour has turned into a near-perfect release!

*Greybar:* Yes, you got it exactly. There _are_ bows in the world (the kobolds have a very small, short-range bow designed for guerilla forest tactics, for example), but the PCs haven't come across them yet. Wait until they go a bit further north.

*Delgar:* Yes! I'm still trying to figure out a format that works for sidebars and vignettes, but I want relevant information to be available. Appendices sounds like a good approach, I may try that next.

*J. Anson:* Aglaonis is smaller, but more densely populated. They have direct access to wheat and cattle/goat products, rather than having to barter across distances for it. They are also an older culture, tied to older methods of alcohol. In general, beer cultures are going to outnumber wine cultures by a wide margin, especially travelling north... however, in general, Theralis and Aglaonis are likely the _best_ at their respective traditions, due to heavy specialization and a lack of mass culture watering down.

As for whiskey, well, if there _is_ a whiskey culture, it's not likely to be found on the peninsula - cereal mashes are uncommon, and, as mentioned, its production is counterintuitive.

*Greppa:* I see you've done what you threatened .


----------



## seasong

To comments/questions from incognito:







> I think it's also very interesting that all three PCs can go back to slaughtering Orcs after having lived amound them for a year - it should've "humanized" the humaniods.



Well, at least for Athan, humanizing the orcs meant he's started to follow some of their culture... And witness how willingly the orcs kill each other/aid the dragon against each other. The orcs aren't lovable. They're just more complex than "ugh, orc, evil". Even while he was with the orcs, Athan ripped Gach's throat out with his teeth!

For Greppa and Merideth, I think it's more complex, but regardless of the humanity of orcs... it's war, and the orcs are the enemy. If they fought against Aglaonis, it would be much the same!







> I love the battles both won, AND lost by the Orcs.  I have to admit, I like it when the giant's rocks smushed a few casters.  I felt bad for the Fireball battle being one sided.



This is probably too much info for my players , but I assign differing levels of cleverness and capability to the orc tribes (or sometimes individuals among them). And although this tribe may seem the worst so far, the Bunahken were actually more dangerous - they went to lengths no one else would have (chopping down trees) to gain victory. If they'd known the dragon was coming (instead of thinking that the other tribe had taken the fall for them), that fight would have been a hell of a lot tougher. They're gone now, so I can compliment them all I want!

The current "tribe" is pretty dangerous, though, no doubt about it.

Total losses in troops:
Against the first tribe this summer, roughly 320 humans, 380 orcs. If the orcs had been willing to stay and fight on, and the humans didn't find a way to increase the difference, the orcs would have won.

Against this second, beggars' tribe: 3 humans, 40 orcs. However, the three humans that died were ones who killed half of those 40 orcs, so there likely won't be a repeat of those numbers.

Crunchy giants & armorcats:
Sure. I'll have it up there momentarily.

Exploring Aglaonis:
Really, that's all I think they did. They weren't in that city very long, although what with the beer, they're very likely to go back at some point!

Sessions:
When I finish writing up the war, and one thing after that, I will be caught up to the last session. As far as fast or slow... well, I go at the rate I go. And heck, we're still in the first season's blush, I may slow down as time goes by.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Reply to incognito's question*

* Slips into character *

I was a slave amongst the orcs and while I bear no love for them as a whole. I understand how their lifestyle and environment force them to be. They hunt and take what they need and that generally involves the death (or general discomfort) of those they take from.  The orcs who live in Theralis are loyal to Theralis and they are not thought traitors because they are orcs. 

If I did not have my experiences with the Buhnaken or did and they did not turn out the way they did. I would be rabidly anti-orc. Trust me. If I had taken that mindset, I would have resolved to have seen the valley's surrounding the city continuously decorated with the heads of freshly slain orcs. I'm not at that point.

They are thinking beings who've chosen war with us and we are not going to let them march in and destroy what our ancestors have built.  

The orcs do not respect diplomacy. Strength and death are their currency and to not realize that is tantamount to taunting an armor cat with a grape for a weapon. Theralis must show strength to demonstrate our strength, the orc tribe attacking us must lose...we must kill them. 

We are not like they. When they leave, we let them. Savagery would importune us to hunt them to the ground...and admittedly given the results of the last battle, it takes Theralse morals (found at Seasong's website) to not give in to rage and sorrow and give up what separates us, and allows us to be civilized. 

The orc tribes who attack us may be bloodthirsty barbarians clad the stinking hides of their food, but we are of Theralis and we are better than that.


----------



## seasong

incognito said:
			
		

> I think it's also very interesting that all three PCs can go back to slaughtering Orcs after having lived amound them for a year - it should've "humanized" the humaniods.



I wanted to add a bit to my point on this. The fact that the enemy is humanoids has nothing to do with war. There's no "it's an orc so it's okay to kill" going on here - this is war, and the tribes are enemies who have come to destroy the Theralis people.

And the fact that they lived among the tribes for a year has shown them what brutish, primitive lives the orcs lead... and awakened them, on a gut level, to what slavery for all of Theralis would be like. They can admire the orcs for their savage beauty and still recognize that they can't be allowed to take Theralis.


----------



## Caliber

Very cool. Defintely didn't see the Giants coming. 

Thanks for the info on exactly how the Dragons worked out in your system too.

Put a whupping on those impudent players!


----------



## incognito

Hey y'all!

I didn't mean to imply that the player's shouldn't have fought the Orcs - not me, no sir!  War is war.  If is me, or the next guy - you cna bet I will fight for it to be me!

I thought, for sure, Athan or Greppa would tried to talk with the War Chief to find out what the motivations were for attacking.

Athan could represented himself as a Theralis warchief, or Greppa could represented himself as the Theralis shaman.  Both concepts the Orcs might understand/respect.  And they speak Orc!  It's gott make an impact, yeah?

Although the Orcs have a brutal society, it is not a totally choatic evil one.  They have the ability to reason!

Just a passing thought...my players never strive for diplomacy either.  Of course, they don't speak Ignan, which makes diplamcy difficult with the Salamanders.

PS: Anyone think a Salamader is CR2?  Man those things can deal damage!


----------



## seasong

*Orc Strategy*

The new tribe used its resources wisely. The giants stood back from the crush of the battling and targetted anyone who looked like a spell caster, while the orcs worked mostly on holding back the Theralese troops from the giants. The plan was obvious: get rid of the spell casters and only then attack... with giants as assists.

In addition to that, the orcs had a mighty champion, a savage-looking orc of uncharacteristic strength and speed who would rip into a shield wall like a small, spear-wielding hurricane, then retreat before the Keraunesti could reach him.

So the spell casters briefly switched to summoning spells, hiding behind rocks and throwing their extraplanar friends at the giants... but even Kyriotes' much-lauded firelions met swift death at the clubs of the giants. For the most part, only the healers were safe - partially because their spell casting wasn't obvious, partially because the orcs were suffering visions of dozens of healer slaves.

It was this slow attrition that prompted the Keraunesti to propose their plan. Not a good one, certainly - it consisted of them storming their way to one of the giants, overbearing him, and stabbing him until he died. Which would likely not be swift, and would end in a lot of Theralese death as well. The plan was approved, and put in motion.

Greppa enhanced everyone with the skin and strength of the earth, and, still feeling pretty rested, went along to sap the strength of the giant with _lesser shadow killer_. A massive half-orc runner was provided to carry him around when the Keraunesti began to run. She grinned at Greppa, "Don't worry, little one, I will make you fast."

Athan, spear of Allas in hand, went on the second line of the battle. And Merideth, sandwiched between massive Theralese soldiers, prepared to heal more than she'd ever healed before.

The Keraunesti marched.

They broke through the orc front line, as brutally and swiftly as they could. They were not aimed directly at the giant they were targetting - they didn't want him to start running away until they were downslope a bit.

Just as they were getting into position, a firelion appeared practically on top of the giant. Kyriotes, risking his skin, had come as close to the front lines as he could for the summoning, and was now fleeing as swiftly as he could upslope. The firelion leapt at the giant and distracted it long enough (two whacks to its massive, maned head) for the Keraunesti to close the distance.

Fireballs hit the giant as the firelion died, and then the Keraunesti were bearing the monster down and stabbing it where ever there seemed to be an opening. As his shield carrier was plucked into the air by a massive hand, Athan leapt through the opening and slammed his spear with all of his impressive strength into the floating ribs; beside him, a comrade attempted to slash into the giant's groin. The comrade was smashed from above by the shield carrier, and both died without a word.

Then, thundrous pounding as the other two giants ran to help their friend... too late. The Keraunesti retreated from the giant's corpse, leaving their dead and their spears and carrying their wounded.

A few boulders landed among the Keraunesti, but Theralese arcanists took advantage of the distraction to rain death down upon the two giants, who swiftly retreated to nurse their wounds.

The second day passed, and the sun began to set. orc war drums continued to roll.


----------



## seasong

*Clerics & War*

An individual is a _Theralis citizen first_, and only then a worshipper or priest of the gods. Indeed, a priest is not a fanatical breed of worshipper here, but rather an individual who works with the gods on behalf of the rest of society. If a diety is being a putz about something, the people (and their priests) may well turn their back on the god for the duration!

Of course, there's always tradeoffs, exceptions, contracts and so on... and the threat of divine smiting may allow a god to get away with a certain amount of putzness, but the above is a good general rule.

This may be shocking to the modern American Christian, for whom god is ultimate reality and arbiter of one's fate, but the gods of Theralis have no such claim to omnipotence. They are powerful beings that demand worship and offer goodies in return.

With that said, a priest's spells come from the gods, and most priests specialize in a particular divine entity for efficiency, and so priests have a very long-term relationship with that diety. When push comes to shove, the priest may have to make some hard choices about that relationship, and different priests will cut off relations at different levels of putzness.

If a god was threatening to destroy Theralis for a transgression, for example, a priest would have to be pretty turned in the head to even consider continuing to work with him/her. On the other hand, a diety who wants a particular citizen punished for transgressive acts, most priests would help get that citizen punished as part of the overall relationship between the god and the city-state. Where a priest falls in between on that spectrum varies.

So, when war threatens Theralis, the various orders, sects, temples and monasteries will be working with the gods to see where and how they can help.

Of the big four, Xeras, Peladas and Hethas are largely unconcerned with Theralis, and care little for the war. As there are very few priests to any of them in Theralis, this is expected. Although there are shrines to Xeras for good weather for the vineyards, they are largely unattended, and are places where farmers make small token sacrifices.

Phastas is reasonably well known, enough so that the _phastini_ are born occasionally in the valleys, and She has a few priests devoted to Her who operate small shrines for craftsmen and masons. She has little role in the war, however, beyond the usual blessings on occasional weapons crafted by her favored smiths.

Atmos has little to do with Theralis, and most priests who work with him do so primarily on the side. Nemesis, Detis and Kallos (among the minor arcana) are much the same.

Athos is strongly worshipped among the Theralese people, and his war blessings are flowing almost continuously in the course of this battle. As orcs worship their own ancestors rather than the gods, and are disorganized to boot, Athos' blessings are one-sided. Most major groups of soldiers have at least one soldier who is also a militant priest. The Keraunesti often make sacrifices to Athos (and Xeras for their name, despite her uninvolvement) before a battle. Captain Agina is a strong worshipper of Athos, and some believe that she may be gaining His blessings more directly as the war goes on.

Although Aphos and Demis both have a reasonable amount of worship in Theralis, neither involves themselves in the making of war. At best, Demis' priests petition for a more abundant yield to help stave off the impact on trade. Eras and the Muses and Graces (among the minor arcana) are much the same.

Allas normally does not involve Herself in matters of war, but has made an exception (without explanation) in this one. The first Battle of Eastpass and each battle of Theralis Ridge since the first, she has made her presence known in the form of areas of daylight to counter the night attacks of the orcs.

Dianas is active in every facet of Theralis life, including the war, but Her aid in this has been more of the "stress relief after battles" variety. Her priests have also helped sober soldiers when needed, and have provided _aid_ spells via the strong bones of the grape. Some say that Dianas is somewhat saddened by the battle, as even though the orcs do not worship her directly, her grapes are a primary staple of their diet.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*re: Incognito*

Wow.  Di...plo...ma...cy? I have heard of this word but its definition is foreign to me.   Actually I think it's more telling that our exposure to the orcs have made the PC's more savage and less likely to talk. I know that the first thing he feels during a war scene is drowing fear, which impells him to want to kill what is causing that fear.  


However in the future, the PC's will hopefully develop more of a dialog with the tribes, if only to find out what is causing the exodus to Theralis lands.


----------



## seasong

*Re: re: Incognito*



			
				Greppa of Tartwater said:
			
		

> I know that the first thing he feels during a war scene is drowing fear



My job here is done.


----------



## Esiminar

> I know that the first thing he feels during a war scene is drowing fear, which impells him to want to kill what is causing that fear.



But I bet you drool at the thought of one day being able to smack a wall of fire across the entire front line of such a force


----------



## incognito

> I know that the first thing he feels during a war scene is drowing fear, which impells him to want to kill what is causing that fear.




and now we return you to our regularly scheduled ...hack, already in progress!

Get 'im Greppa!


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

I used to Esiminar. "Watching" that arcanist dissapear behind a hurled rock, caused a major deviation in his thinking. Without "leet metamagicky" goodness, strong protection spells, or a really sneaky spells.

 Casting the big boom spells creates a huge "marker" that screams "I'm here shoot me." While the opportunity to deal out death by the multi-D6 is appealing, its not worth it if you get a spear or a rock in the gullet before you can recast or escape (And when you're as runty as Greppa, escape can be hard when everything is faster than you). If he survives the war, war Greppa will be taking stock of magickal tatics and see if there is a way to use magic more efficiently.


----------



## seasong

Okay, I missed a few days here, and there's no love for me at work today, either .

I'm still holding out hope that I'll get something written by tomorrow evening. If not, I'll probably just summarize the remainder of the war and try to catch up to the current session before Saturday.

Sorry for the delays!


----------



## seasong

*Scenes of the Battle*

Over the next few days...

*Hero of the Tribes:* An orc war hero showed up. The orcs had held him back as a surprise if they started to lose, and with the death of the giant, he was called in. Fully a head taller than the orcs around him, he seemed half-giant himself, and his spear sang as he swung and stabbed with it.

The first sign of his presence was when a shield carrier was stabbed, through the shield, and unceremoniously lifted and tossed from the end of the spear. Trailed by an orc war drummer beating for all his worth, the orc hero then proceeded to butcher Theralese soldiers like so much cattle until the Keraunesti arrived... at which point he simply retreated behind a wall of orc flesh and jogged back downslope.

He would continue to plague the front line, one hole at a time, for the course of the war. He was too fast to chase down, and he chose his battles well.

*Killing Giants:* Kyriotes' summoned a _greater light hawk_ to aid in attacking the second giant. Streaking like a reddish meteor from the depths of hell, it flung itself across the sky at the giant, only to burst into brilliant light before it came into his range, blinding and stunning him. The Keraunesti used his momentary lack of awareness to charge, overbear, and kill him.

It was a costly victory, however, as the only remaining giant went berserk, and began ripping up great chunks of rock and flinging them through the Theralese lines at the Keraunesti. Unlike the targetted boulders of before, these simply punched holes through the troops, with staccato, moist crunches. Greppa nearly died when his assistant, a half-orc woman of considerable size and power, flung him out of the way and was herself smashed. It still managed to break his legs and nearly flatten Athan and Merideth.

Greppa cast _lesser shadow killer_ to weaken the giant, and the Keraunesti, now halved in force, swarmed him and nearly all died killing him.

With all three giants dead... the tribes simply left, their war hero with them, and took up residence several miles east. Theralis began to seriously consider suing for peace.

*A Mission:* Greppa approached Captain Agina a week after the end of the battles. "Captain, I was hoping to speak with you. I... I have something I'd like to do."

"Something for the military, I assume?"

"Sort of... the Theralese troops that were captured by the Bunahken, they were then recaptured by another tribe. I think we may be able to find them, and if we do find them, I would like to get a small group of soldiers to go with us to free them."

Captain Agina considered this for a few moments, staring thoughtfully at some point inside Greppa's soul, then, "Agreed. If you find them, tell me when and where, and I will send a group with you. I can't spare many soldiers, 30 at most, so if you think that won't be enough we will have to wait."

A moment, then she added, "And Greppa... thank you for doing this. I can't afford the scouts to find them with the orcs practically on our doorstep. Allas watch over you, and good luck."

The three heroes met at the tower one final time before heading out. Athan's mother knew a free-spirited orc who she thought might be helpful to them, and Athan had arranged a meeting. Merideth had spent some time buying more healing potions and assorted other items she thought adventurers should have. And Greppa had spent a few sleepless nights planning out his spell use for greater efficiency.

There were going to be some changes in the world, and these three, marked by Allas, intended to be the agents of change.


----------



## seasong

I am now starting this off in seasong's Light Against The Dark, Part II, where we will be following the PCs "as if from day one".

I'm working on a good way to gather up all of the setting notes and academia into one place, probably on the website. Thanks for following us through the initiatory parts of our heroes' careers, and I hope to hear from you as they rise in power in Part II.


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Suing for Peace*

Seasong, you forgot. Thoralis DID "sue" for peace....Mossad style.  'Member?


----------



## seasong

Naw, that was just the "chase them away from our immediate area". Theralis couldn't afford to commit to a long-term chase. The suing for peace reference above is something going on at the upper political levels of Theralis, and has not resulted in anything yet.

And if I did every detail of the war, I would still be writing next week .


----------



## Greppa of Tartwater

*Uh oh*

* Naw, that was just the "chase them away from our immediate area". * 

Dang it! I think we're going to have to get better at assasinations. 
* 
Theralis couldn't afford to commit to a long-term chase. The suing for peace reference above is something going on at the upper political levels of Theralis, and has not resulted in anything yet. * 

Oh great. We are going to be in so much dookey.


----------

