Lily's Christmas Gift

Brother Imio prayed for a sign. His own future in service to Pelor seemed racked in darkness, and uncertainty. The small temple was silent, the many sanctified candles that lit the alter only served to make the shadows dance. His heart felt as temporary as those shadows. His faith held less substance still. Imio held doubts, the Priests and Deacons spoke of the reassurance Pelor brought to the faithful but in his three years of service he had never felt in the least reassured.

He shivered in the draft while reciting the prayers for the dark hour. Fumbling mentally through the words, struggling with the ancient tongue of the fallen empire he repeated the mantra in barely audible whispers. The chill on his bare neck suddenly disappeared, he felt a shadow cross over him and he paused. Footsteps at the back of the chapel made him forget his ritual as he jumped to his feet.

A tall thin stranger strode confidently down the aisle toward Imio. This man wore tight leather britches and a matching waistcoat of the darkest midnight black. His arms were decorated with thick black tattoos, each arm bore a design that made it seem as if his hair flowed from his scalp down his shoulders and into his skin. The stranger's chin carried a five o'clock shadow, his hair was long loose and matted with sweat. He sat on a pew near the alter and bowed his head ignoring the stunned look on the initiates face.

Light from behind the vestry door shone in on the alter, Imio turned to watch as the door was pushed ajar and the silhouette of one of the priests filled the frame. But as his eyes adjusted the young cleric realised this was no clergy member he had met. This strange friar was a stout man, rounded and squat, a cheerful face under a bald and shiny scalp. The friendly seeming friar entered the chapel and sat opposite the dark stranger.

“I accept your choice of witness.” Spoke the dark stranger.

“He is suitable for our needs. You do us an honour meeting here.” The clergy man spoke softly “Tonight two seeds are planted. Our attention was required, your attendance is welcome.”

“Do shut up! I have allowed you to reside here. I am welcome because the ground beneath is mine. You place high hopes that the two girls are going to change the balance. But we will share influence over them. The terms of that pact shall be decided here.”

“Indeed. The ground rules, of the standing agreement for this city specify that we meet with a mortal witness whenever a wild champion enters the field. Here we have two such champions and a new pact will dictate how they will be used.”

“It seems to me that our decision is simple. You take one I take the other. We lead them through their life each one serving on a path of our own choosing.” The black clad stranger slumped in his seat, sure the matter was dealt with.

“I disagree, I know you are young and that the old ways are abhorrent to you.” The light hearted friar smiled warmly “ So I thought I might suggest a new approach. I have an idea, something I think is more your thing entirely.”

“Keeping me happy is in your interests. Tell me, if we're not going to take one each, then what do you want to do? Kill them now, and remove their potential from the field?”

“No, I still feel there's a game to be played and an advantage to be gained. But I think you and I can break from tradition. Your presence here has had it's advantages, I've seen in you new ways to tell the old stories.”

Imio was frozen in place. His ritual all forgotten, the ancient syllables gone, but now every word the two strangers spoke were committed to memory. Entranced he struggled to grasp the details, he felt his part in this deal was still to be discussed.

“So light bringer what do you suggest?”

“I suggest brother shadow, that we ignore one and focus on the other.” Steepling his fingers he continued “Let us agree that there will be no interference at all in one of the babes. And instead of taking one girl each we fight entirely over the other. Whichever power sways her wins out.”

“And you think I'm twisted, do your faithful really know you? One girl grows up with no influence from either of us, her path will be her own to discover and pursue, the other poor girl will constantly feel the pull and sway of our bickering.” A moment of consideration passed before the shadowy man continued. “This appeals to me, you were right. I suggest that we watch the two girls till they wake, whichever sleeps longest let her be free of our influences. The first to wake shall from that moment feel our sway. Do you accept?”

“I do brother shadow. I shall instruct our witness to carry the basket and the two babes over to Ginger street and have them left with the orphanage. Will there be anything else?”

Without response the dark visitor receded into the formless shadows beneath the pews, and as he did so the cool draft returned yet the chapel filled with a warmth and a calm that Imio hadn't realised was missing. He looked at the jolly friar in bewilderment.

“Brother Imio, walk outside with me.” Imio stood and followed the friendly faced priest. “You have served your order well this night. And what you are asked to do now will if all the God's smile on us, serve to protect this chapel and it's congregation in the future.”

“Yes father. I will do as you ask.” Brother Imio stammered.

“Imio, just there by the door a basket has been left, take it to the orphanage on Ginger Street and have them care for the two baby girls inside. They were left by two women, they were born at the same time, yet share only a distant ancestry. The omen of their birth and the pact you have witnessed must remain a secret known only to yourself. But these girls must be delivered to a warm cot tonight.”

Imio found the basket by the Temple door as he had been instructed he started to trek across Redforge to Ginger street. He felt no more reassured now than he had at the start of the night, but now he had seen god's at work, and understood a little more of the situation here in the city. The girls he carried to the municipal quarter were living embodiments of a god pact. They would maybe provide him with more insights as they grew. Maybe they were agents of change. He wondered if Pelor would succeed in winning this small battle. Imio was doubtful, his faith didn't give him hope that anything would change in Redforge, at least not in his life time.

Tabba's Christmas Gift

Thick green smoke lifted into the sky from the open hole in the Shaman's roof. This lodge was on the edge of the moors and many miles from the carrier that Hepstran was assigned to. The Mazurkan captain was shipping to the new world he and his tribal brothers were carving out the new land for the Emperor. But first before leaving his family he would consort with this wise man once more.

“Enter young bull.” The deep old voice called from within.

Hepstran hesitated at the doorway a moment more, then pushed through the reeds and stepped into the heady musk that filled the small hut.

“I am Hepstran son of Geimran, Captain of the thirty third Torn Infantry. I travel to the Imperial territories to defend the Emperor's interests. My ship sails in three days. I ask you to share with me the omens and fates. To help guide me and to better prepare me to lead my men in battle.”

“Do you accept the fates? Do you accept the power of the Omens? Will you abide by the threads they weave into your tale?”

“I do.” In his mind Hepstran had a rebellious attitude of free will, but he knew the way the Shamanic shadow speakers plied their trade in truths and futures. “I accept the pattern my life will take.”

“Then I need you to rest, sleep, make yourself comfortable on the cot in the corner and breath in the fumes of the fire there. I will study your dream time and we will find your future.”

The captain took a comfortable position and felt the herbal steam and smoke begin to change his breathing pattern. As his attention drifted he heard the voice of children speaking in words he did not understand. He heard battles being fought, he thought of the face of his bride Fenth and then he felt a calming warmth and a shadow like presence wash over him.

“Awake Hepstran. Your future is certain.” The shaman roused the sleeping minotaur.

“We are done? I heard voices, I heard battle. Will I be a mighty warrior for the Empire?”

“You will indeed be a great warrior, a leader of forces, a hero to your people. You shall also have a son who will be an even greater Hero.” The shaman watched the glee on the young captain's face. “But not everything of this future will be to your liking. There will be sacrifices. Your life will be filled with regrets. You will be a bitter and angry man in your later years. No matter how many victories you push on to claim you will never satisfy your needs.”

“Victory is it's own reward, shaman you know nothing of the battle field.” A snort of steam and a glaring in his eyes passed quickly. But he thought of Fenth and their possible children “My apologies, please continue – what of this son?”

“His path and yours do not cross until late in your life. You will not know him. He will learn of you. When you finally face one another the fates leave you to decide the victor.”

“Am I to fight him? Does he need my help or do I need to kill him? What do the fates say?”

“The details of your meeting are not controlled by the fates. But as much as you are ruled by the blade so too your only child will live by the blade.”

“My only child, why would any heifer bare but one child? What foolishness is this?” Hepstran could no longer control his fury and sat up to leave.

“Captain you have heard from me the path you are already on. The fates loom works only with the thread available. You can no more change this than you can stop your horns growing. Accept your future, or you will never achieve peace in this life.”

“Shaman I am a Torn Warrior I do not strive for peace, I live for war.” Hepstran stormed out of the lodge and began the journey to the coast.

Calling home to collect his bags he stopped to bid farewell to his father and his fathers first heifer. He did not mention the shaman's prophecy, he didn't talk about futures or children. His father was distracted, and Hepstran assumed his impending journey was the reason for the stern look on his face. Not until he spoke to his mother did he find any other explanation.

As he left the village boundaries behind, Hepstran stomped the dust off his hooves. He vowed never to return. The shaman's dire words and the news his mother had shared were brewing inside his gut. Bitterness and shame stung fiercely into his flesh with a violence no sword had ever wrought.

Fenth had fled the village, with some labourer, her family were shamed but he would not be there to absolve them. He left with that same dire shadow hanging over his own path. Already the Shaman was wrong he could have no son without a mate, and his arranged marriage was now in shambles. His future was his own. It had been foolishness to approach the shaman and there was nothing to learn from that meeting.

Hepstran would leave for the new world and through his Victories prove himself worthy. His ambition and his intellect, his strength and his bravery, his own decisions and his own future, made by his own hands. No fates or omens to guide him. Captain Hepstran would live a life with no future and no past, with no family and certainly no son.

Arwen's Christmas Gift

There could be no clue from the small one room hut's interior that this was the highest seat of power in the community of Druids. All Redcap Forest paid reverence to the occupant of this hovel. A nexus of two powers, political and primal, where decisions and rituals changed the world on a local and global level.

Ranthas Elder Arbiter, the thirty eighth leader of the Redcap Druids, had made most of his decisions in commune with nature, leaning heavily on his spiritual connection to his totems and the parliament of trees. He would hear out the concerns of local hunters, speak with respected local magic users and even receive emissaries from towns and cities across the continent. He also oversaw the loose hierarchy of druids, today he would be speaking with the senior druid of the conclave at the mouth of the dwarven passage.

The knowledge of this meeting could have been brought from the birds of the air, the rodents in the trees or any pack of animals that had spotted Falridge on his way from the south. Instead he was forewarned of the man's arrival and the topic of his discussion by the document on his desk.

A call from outside declared the master druid had arrived, Falridge entered and grabbed his host in a brotherly embrace of greeting.

“Arbiter, I come from the south with reports and with a request.” Falridge began.

“Yes, yes, but first tell me what you think of this.” Ranthas put a mug in the traveller's hands “I believe I've got a better brew than previous batches.”

“You know...” Smiling and taking a taste Falridge continued “The way that you keep tinkering with a perfectly acceptable recipe is something of an obsession.” Another sip “Can I taste willow? Why would anyone want to drink a beer that carries the taste of willow bark?”

“I quite like it.” The Arbiter pointed out.

“I suspect it's an acquired taste.” he searched for somewhere to put the cup down but failed to find anywhere and held on to it. “This thing with the goblins it seems they are starting to press up against the dwarves. The strongholds should form a barrier preventing large numbers of goblins getting to Strophea's borders but I would suggest we start providing some simple support and help strengthen the supply lines to the dwarves just in case.”

“Yes, I concur, get word out to your hermits as well, tell them goblins are to be discouraged. What of the mining settlements has the logging stopped?”

“As agreed the Redforge miners have kept to the lumber we indicated. We celebrated with them at the end of the project and they are to gift a portion of the first haul to the city on our behalf. Credit with Mayor Roper's staff for any of the orders needs has been assured.”

“All good, I'm glad to hear things are running smoothly” Ranthas cast a glance at the letter on his desk. “But you made the journey here for something else entirely. Something got you worried enough to pull away from the boughs of the south. Tell me what you have found out about the young woodsman.”

“You knew? Well what I know is he's a difficult student to teach.” But at this the southerner paused “He is interested in everything we can teach him, don't get me wrong. It's just our truths don't appear to apply. His connection with the green is transient, he cannot approach the tooth and claw with clarity. His callings go unheard and beyond the basics his herb lore is unfocused. If this is the future of the druidic order, if he is all we were expecting of him then I can't see it. He's no druid.”

“I understand, I had come to some of the same realisations.” Seeing the look of confusion on Falridge's face the Arbiter explained further “His Aunt visited me when he first approached you for his apprenticeship, she convinced me that despite his city ways that there was good reason to believe he had a future in the order. She visited me again last week, and in the same way convinced me that while Arwen does indeed still have that future with us, for the present his time in the forest is coming to an end.”

“Where is he to go? What future can he have without the full understanding of his connection? He will be no better than a hunter.”

“I have something to show you.” The Arbiter retrieved one of the parchments from the desk. “This design should be grafted to his palm.”

“Is this your work?” Falridge asked “No. The pattern... that should rejoin, but the ribbon and the cord are... this is not” Confusion held his tongue.

“Yes, I wish I knew where this pattern was from the folds in the web here and here,this position for the paw suggests to me that the tattoo will grow with whoever it is grafted onto, but see this.” He points to three lines that meet at a point.

“No druid would risk wearing that junction. Is that supposed to sit on the life line?”

“You see. This is to be our final gift to the boy. Though he might not thank us. I just wish that city woman could have told me who sent these letters. But she claimed she was just the messenger.”

“You want me to arrange an Inksmith to paint this into the boys skin?” Asked the visitor.
“Yes take the design and explain he is being dismissed, make it painless but explain he has not passed the tests or trials. We bid him fair well and advise him to find his own way. As a leaving gift the tattoo is both a keep sake and a way for him to access some of our gifts. Tell him he will learn more as his grows, that he will be welcome as a guest but that all we can teach he has learned.”

“What are we doing to this boy Ranthas?” Asked falridge.

“I wish I knew, we must continue to watch him and maybe in time we will learn something from him.”

Onza's Christmas Gift

Within the last hour, since entering the Redforge sewers, Carol had faced rats, foul sewage and all that goes with travelling through refuse. Now as she stood, holding her breath, on the wooden walkway she contemplated why this strange black clad woman had hired them.

Carol was here to provide some magical assistance. Her position as Journeyman wizard made her the perfect candidate for any jobs that weren't worthy of the local Magewright's notice.

Remy came along mainly to keep an eye on her. Though it left their child with her mother for the day the young husband wasn't about to let his wife go out on an adventure alone. His contribution was a strong sword arm. Should there be any beasties more threatening than the rats he insited on dispatching them.


Wellard was here as a demolitions expert. His work in the mines out in the Redcap hills would prove important, he didn't bring much else of value to the proceedings but blowing a hole in the sewer wall was an important step in getting to the temple.

Melton brought a little back up and experience. He also brought some complications, Carol had history with this striking young man and his presence was another reason her husband had risked coming along.

Finally their exotic and mysterious patron, Her name was poorly translated from her elven tongue but she was known to her hirelings as Changa. She wanted access to the temple to retrieve a scroll. Her order had tracked the original to this location beneath the city of Redforge.

“That's the fuse set, everyone back up around the corner and I'll light it.” Instructed Wellard.

Everyone scurried to a safe distance, with Wellard ducking around the bend to join them just before a blast of heat and dust and the bashing sound of brick and stone collapsing joined him. The surface of the sewage swayed back and forth recoiling from the blast, lapping against the walk ways.
“Ok that's done for that wall. And the hole is plenty big enough if a little treacherous. But we should be right.” The ex-miner proclaimed. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you Misssther Roper.” Changa spoke “You may wait here if you like.”

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed. “I was going to take a look inside if that would be ok.”

“Well don't get in the way.” Melton pushed past and strode into the temple, torch held high.

As his shadow followed him inside the light he held up dimmed and snuffed out. His voice called out from the darkness in surprise and annoyance. Each of their torches did just the same as they joined him, until all five were stood in total darkness.

“One second.” Carol made a few unseen motions and used a pinch of her reagents and the room lit up with a magical glow. “Better?” She asked.

“Much, right on down into the temple proper.” Remy started opening doors and found one leading down. “This way.”

All five descended the sloping passage, Carol's ghostly light showing the décor and carvings on the walls. With loving care craftsmen had embossed images of ships' navigators viewing the star filled heavens, hunters gathered around camp fires and people sleeping sound in their beds. Scenes of people living safely under the night sky ran along the wall the whole way down the corridor.

“Who's temple is this?” Wellard inquired.

“A goddeth long forgotten. Benevolent queen of the night sssky.” Hissed Changa “My ressearch sshowth she fell over three hundred yearss ago. None have been here in all that time.”

“Hush.” Melton held up a hand, “Something lies in wait ahead. Remy have your sword ready.”

Two blades were drawn as the women and the tubby miner stepped back out of the way. With more care the five moved forward, but without further warning dark beasts leapt out of the shadows.

Four hounds set on the men at the front. Their weapons sliced through the beasts as if through air, leaving no trace of a wound, yet the jaws and talons of the wolf like creatures tore open the flesh of the men in short order. Remy was down under one wolf while Melton dodged and weaved, but even his experience on the battle field failed to prepare him for this.

Carol saw her husband fall beneath the wolf and began to react, firing shots of magic darts into the beast. With these she scored hits, each forcing a yelp of pain from the nearly vaporous beast. An irritating buzzing noise above her head demanded attention she was unwilling to spare, until it was too late, tendrils descended from above enveloping her arms and lifting her from the floor.

Changa and Wellard nearly froze in place, his nerve broke and he sprinted back up the corridor. The elf cast about her wildly with what little magics she had prepared but saw yet more wolves approaching from below, she stumbled backwards out of the small circle of light.

Already little remained of the sword wielding men. Carol watched as her husband's remains were dragged away, and saw Melton finally succumbed to the pack of shadow hounds. With all her strength she pulled against the tendrils. Trying to ignore the pain in her shoulders and focus on her magic. The young wizard focused her will power on spells that might help, but before she could utter an incantation the black ink-like tendrils pulled first one arm then the other out of their sockets. Her light spell slowly faded, though the pain she felt flooded her mind with a different light.

Her last thought was of her only son, she tried to hold onto the look in his tiny eyes. Her love for the boy had been her reason for living, she felt a moment of peace as she remembered him for the last time, but quickly even that source of light was extinguished and she breathed her last.

Free Will and Determinism – Winging It or Playing by the Rules

In the first few sessions of my game we weren't playing D&D, the home brew system was a lot more cinematic and scenes tended to be big and dramatic. Bringing in the new structures and limitations of the fourth edition rules caused a lot of concern. Rich and Iain most noticeably felt their characters were less able to contribute to the action. Their concerns were valid but I promised once we were all more familiar with the new system we'd get back to the freedom they felt was missing.

The last few sessions have given the players a lot more freedom. The fear expressed by Rich, that the miniatures and battle grid were taking over from action movie style combat scenes, has been laid to rest. This week's session was a great example of this. And while the scenario itself had a few issues, the encounters worked well and at the end of the night we all went away happy to have played in another fun night of D&D.

After the feast

The dwarves give the party the mission of attacking the goblin army from a remote hilltop. A guide leads them through more dwarven tunnels and out into a natural cave. Here the party meets and dispatches a small clutch of goblins, a hard encounter for the six level three heroes which nearly costs the Sword Mage his life. A short rest and some simple medical attention bring the party back to their prime, and while Onza's wounds are patched up Miri and Tabba find a mound of jellied spawn; dozens of transparent globes, each with a gestating infant goblin inside. Within moments Annarin bathed the spawn in fire. The crackle of flames is soon accompanied by the popping of the organic bubbles and the tiny squeals of the unborn goblins as they expire. Moving out from the cave the same end is dealt to numerous other goblin spawns.

At the cave mouth the party looks down the hillside at the river of goblins flowing towards the walls of the dwarven fort. Hulking lizards pull along war machines and troop carriers, rockets scream through the air piloted by equally screaming goblin suicide troops. The defences around the fort hold back the onslaught as the six heroes take stock and plan their assault.

Sandbox Battle Field

After describing the general scene and the way the combat was going I then explained how this next scene was going to work. I wanted a truly cinematic battle sequence, and told them to express their imagination. Each player had an image of the hillside and the waves of goblins sweeping towards the fort, and I let them interpret the facts dramatically. When Arwen wanted a tree to climb from which to fire arrows into the fray the tree was right there. Miri climbed on the back of a dinosaur and began to cut the straps that connected to the wagon behind it. Onza lightning lured a rocket out of the sky and briskly dived out of the way before it hit the ground where he had been standing.

In turn each player described not only their character's actions but also their interactions with the battle scene and the rest of the party. We put the dice away and ran the next hour of fighting as a purely narrative story. It went very well. The feeling of big screen block buster action had returned and I saw even the most sleepy of my players come awake and put their all into the scene.

Best Laid Plans

Unfortunately this was also the scene where a specific action had be planned. Lily (Hannah's Character) was supposed to fall in combat out of sight of the rest of the party. Hannah and I had discussed this, and as the combat continued I felt the moment slipping away. The freedom the players were enjoying ended up with me fumbling the agreed element of action. Hannah wanted Lily to be captured by the Goblins and to then use this in the next session to lead into her characters reveal.

As the night was drawing to a close I was aware that I was going to have to shoe horn in her going missing. Leaving it so late and forcing the moment left it feeling wrong and it didn't mesh with the rest of the scene. I'm looking at that for future sessions, and at the beginning of the next session I will weave the tale a little more so as to smooth over this hiccup.

All in all, the free form element worked well. With the right players and the right atmosphere you can put the rules down and go without. I had a team of heroes against a field of mooks (low level minions) and I saw no need to force the action into a more restrictive format. With little danger of taking lethal damage I left the party to incorporate the Goblins into their descriptions, and occasionally threw in a little extra background colour myself.

Next time the party has to track down their missing librarian and rescue her from a goblin surgeon. Why have the goblins taken her away? Why has Lily been feeling so nauseous since arriving at the dwarven halls? Why has she put on weight? Arwen and Tabba have a theory, but all will be revealed soon.

The Dwarven Front: The Big Reveal

It's a simple trip into the mountains. The Dwarves are fighting the Goblins, we're delivering weapons and food to the dwarves. Lots of references to the mines of moria, and cousin Barrin giving us a fine welcome. We know what to expect, it's all been done before.

When your players assume they know what to expect you have an opportunity to push your story to new heights. This week's game was one such chance for my campaign, and because I seized that chance we had one of our best sessions.

It was an exercise in pacing, storytelling and foreshadowing. Leaking out the information slowly at first with more realizations coming in waves as the night progressed.

My six players were to discover this was no standard dwarven outpost, and they weren't dealing with familiar dwarves either.

 

Reveal One – We don't do things like you do

The party has never met another race in it's own borders before, this was their first foreign country, and I wanted to show that there were diverse social models in my world. Here they aren't just finding a new race of humans, they are in the sunken tunnels of a different species. I wanted them to have to second guess a few of their preconceived perceptions.

Dwarves on my world live a segregated life. The men are free and proud, any male can follow his own plans for life and strike out to achieve his ambitions. Dwarven law supports the rights of the individual and adjudicates where conflict or disputes occur. But their society oppresses their women, leaving them uneducated and restricted in their power and freedom.

The party arrives and late as it is are soon given bunks for the night. But the women are led away to a separate hall where they share a room. They find that the dwarven women only speak their racial language and at that they speak it in simple terms and concepts only. Miri speaks dwarven and has to translate for Lily. They find one dwarf, Merel, who seems more educated and enlist her as their guide.

Overnight as they sleep the whole party awake together and face a beast from the far realms, the combat is very one sided though they can land some blows and do a fair amount of damage it's hardly even wounded as it slides away. This feels very much like they have been tested by the beast.

When they awake in the morning the men are invited to meet the Alder General who thanks them for their service in delivering the food, and asks for the weapons to be given over to his quartermaster. Arwen explains that the swords are being held by Lily and magically guarded. Though perturbed by this he sends for the women. Each of the men turn to talk about the coming war. Kurtis, the merchant they have been escorting explains he intends to return home to Palanquas. Our four heroes all pledge to assist in the fighting. The Strophean Captain adds his sword and those of his remaining six soldiers, as a first sign of support from the prince.

 

Reveal Two – There are Enemy Factions within Factions

Merel arranges for Miri to have some space in which to practice her martial arts. The dwarven maiden has never seen a woman able to defend herself like this and when Lily joins in Merel formulates a plan.

She explains to the girls that there are cultists who are hiding here in the womens quarter they are gathering and plotting and maybe having seen what these humans are capable of maybe they could capture one of the cultists and take them to the men. No male dwarf would listen to her, but the strangers have given Merel a chance to do something about these zealots.

She leads Miri and Lily deeper into the womens region and points them to a cave where there are five of these bad dwarves. Face to face with the threat Miri and Lily see these dwarves are crazed snake cultists, bald and tattooed with snake skin patterns over their scalp. They kill four and take the fifth prisoner.

Collected by the General's men Miri and Lily deliver their captive and he is led away to be dealt with. Arrangements for the weapons to be handed over are made, and then talk turns to the coming feast.

 

Reveal Three – You never know enough, but you soon know too much

At the feast the party begin to swap tales and very soon Arwen is telling of their encounter in an abandoned dwarven hostel. They show the axe head, book and magical staff recovered and some interest rises from nearby tables, a bard at their table promises a legendry tale if first Arwen will tell what they found in this ruined hall.

The damaged hall came to their attention after they encountered a clutch of death jump spiders, after dispatching the arachnids they took rest in the valley and discovered a Warlock stone circle pulsing with impenetrable energy. Exploring the area they found a dwarven hall behind a waterfall and began to delve deeper. They found many signs of fighting, the scortched bodies of fallen dwarves, and eventually a cavern badly damaged from a great and mighty combat.

In return for these details the bard tells of an ancient dwarven hero, something of a rebel, a warlock who allied with the powers that dwell beyond the stars. This star-locked mage was known as Garram, and he freed the dwarves from their masters the Gnolls. But the power he used was wrong in the eyes of the Alders and they raised up a party to kill him. This group of wizards and clerics fought him across his many bolt holes until they tracked him to the hall that Arwen had described. Here Garram fought and lost all his students but with a sudden burst in his power punished his enemies and ascended growing and shifting into a Shadow-form dragon. The dark dragon Gar still remembered his dwarven brethren and continued to protect them. Eventually he amassed a following and then, projecting himself on their worship, climbed into the heavens. He defeated the then neutral goddess of shadows to take the Throne of Darkness for himself.

As all the pieces fell into place every jaw in the room dropped. The evil god of darkness, once a dwarf himself, is the patron deity of the dwarven nation, a nation with restrictive views on gender roles and female freedoms and rights, a nation with which the two neighboring human nations of Palanquas and Strophea have allied to join in the war against the Goblin uprising. Earlier that very day they had all pledged their swords/bows/knives and spells to that self same cause. A pledge they now had to evaluate in a new light.

And so we ended that nights session on that revelation… and there was much post game discussion.

My World + WotC’s Ideas

The world and setting for my current campaign is my own, and one I've run campaigns on before. Switching to the new edition of D&D gave me some interesting options, and some challenging story concepts to try and work in. I had no half elves on my world. I didn't have Eladrin or Tieflings, The Feywild just wasn't a concept I had ever included before, nor was the Shadowfell. All these elements I felt should be brought in, so I examined my story lines and tried to see where my setting could include these races and locations.

The primary story lines, already in progress before the launch of 4^th edition, could easily lead to the two planes. I had picked the shadow god as the main villain for the main story so I started to shift the background colour to include the shadowfell, there is a second story getting very little interest where all the native fey creatures are migrating south, this will tie into the feywild – I won't go into this just yet.

As for the Tieflings and the Eladrin, well I figure they could be the common folk of the two new planes. When the party arrive in the Shadowfell they can interact with the Tieflings, maybe even bring some back. The planned outcome of the fey story line should give plenty of opportunity to introduce the Eladrin.

Half Elves…. hmmm

Eliode: An epic campaign

Before I discuss the intricacies of the plot let me introduce the party –

• Simon plays the Ranger Arwen Skinner, a failed druidic initiate.
  
• Hannah plays Lily Williams, a roguish librarian
  
• Rich plays Tabba Silverside a Minotaur barbarian
  
• Iain plays Onza a Swordmage
  
• Sera plays Miri a Monk themed Ranger
  
• Steven is playing Annarin a wizard.
  

Our heroes have encountered the Evil god of Darkness, Zehir discovering that academics documenting Zehir's rise to power gave him the name Gar Raminol Thea. They also found scrolls and tomes describing the Goddess Zehir defeated when he took the throne of darkness the goddess called Par Thea Col. Arwen has set his sights on re-establishing the church of Par Thea Col and the party have a dark obsidian looking glass that reflects back an image of the Goddesses face. Their experience and research into the pantheon of gods will be important as the game progresses because it gives me opportunity to shock them like I did last night.

 

Last night my D&D4ed game hit the 11^th session. The current story element has our band of heroes escorting a caravan of weapons into the Redcap Mountains. They are protecting a merchant who will deliver blades and axes, food and provisions to a Dwarven fort.

What am I involved in?

Right now I've got a few irons in the fire.

I'm an avid gamer and have been for the past seventeen years. From the early days of Fighting Fantasy novels and Maelstrom (my first RPG) all the way up to today's 4^th Ed D&D games, I'm all about the creative element that sits behind gaming. Whether we are talking about strategy and the ability to come up with new tactics when colonising Catan, or presenting epic story-lines to a group of friends, for me it's an act of creativity.

These days I'm involved in a few games. I'm running a D&D campaign for 5 friends, I'm playing in a monthly live action vampire game, I've just touched base with the local Living forgotten realms team and might be joining them more regularly. A group of friends have helped me start up a league for forgotten CCGs, and we're currently soaking up On The Edge.

Online I'm playing City of Heroes, while everyone around me are into World of Warcraft. I'm also looking to get the new Fallout game for the X-Box, and I may one day finish some of the other story based console games I've neglected.

Ok – so that's what's going on as far as games are concerned. I'll expand on these topics in the coming weeks and let you know how things progress.