Recent Posts

Popular tags: (See More...)
Pointer-left Elderscrolllogo_thumb
Posted by the GM
Stars Without Number
Melee Builds - Missing can do more damage?

Hitting never does less damage than missing- that's the basic principle. If a player has somehow managed to build their character and made their weapon choices so that missing has a higher average damage than hitting, then they can roll their miss damage at the same time and take the higher result.
Viewable by: Public
Scrawled in bandit blood on a scrap of parchment:
day won in the swamp
im almost owt of water
going bac to town, to owrs after we left
a bandit stuck big brotha with a nife
eye kild the bandit
never knew i cud rid a hoarse
but i sur did lik it
eye think it’s mi nuu hoarse

Session: Game Session 1 - Thursday, May 02 2019 from 1:00 AM to 4:00 AM
Viewable by: Public
The Oath
Valindra has been entertaining growing doubts about their mission; what exactly is it anyway? Why have they spent day after day aimlessly wandering about in the underdark looting tombs and seeking gems and trinkets, while civilization itself teeters on the edge of annihilation but a mile or so above them. She descended into these depths out of a sense of loyalty to her companions and because she had a notion that the inhabitants of this chthonic underworld might pose a threat to the dwellers on the surface. So far she has seen little of that. As a warrior priestess of Rillifane Rallathil, she has devoted her life and pledged herself to defend the Leaflord’s realm. Some in the party seem content robbing graves and looting orc lairs, but she has begun to suspect that her talents are being squandered. Truth be told, she has thought about leaving, making her way back to the surface and pledging her services to those fighting against the werewolf warlock Constantine and his bugbear hoard. But these are but idle thoughts. She would never, ever, abandon her companions.

But now.

Now, as she stares at the scene before her, she feels a unique anger rising from within. The poor svirfneblin, horribly mutilated and disfigured by their dark elf overlords, look at her with stunned eyes, barely able to comprehend their nightmare has ended at last. It is enough of a moral aberration to enslave a fellow sentient being, but to do this? Who would do such things? The gratuitous cruelty sickens her, and her mouth tastes of ash. She has heard many legends of the cruelty of the drow, but to witness it in person . . . She knows that Solera has suffered greatly at their hands as well, and with this thought, a deeper shadow darkens her brow.

Then she turns her gaze upon Dill, struck down, sprawled in his pooling blood. Of all Winter’s Bane she had the least in common with this half a man. He cared for nothing. He believed in nothing, save drinking, brawling, and slaking his hircine appetites upon anything that would spread its legs or buttocks. By all outward appearances, he was but a ridiculous fool.

And yet, he was a loyal fool and a good fighter. Always the one to volunteer to go first into danger, always in the thick of the fight despite his small stature. Never complaining. Valindra had suspected that one who truly believed in nothing would not evidence these qualities. She had always hoped that there was more to him. Perhaps she was wrong. No matter. Now, she will never know. But whatever Dill was, whatever his strengths or flaws, he was not a stranger, and she will not forgive those who did this.

And so, before the deep gnomes gather up his tiny broken body to bury as they have promised, Valindra kneels beside him and draws a single oak leaf from her pouch. Somehow, through strange enchantment, it remains green, still redolent of a summer long past. Then, her face stoic, she carefully pins the leaf to his cloak, kisses him lightly on the forehead, and whispers but a single word in his ear.

Valindra pauses for several moments before rising, her eyes dry, a lump of iron throbbing in her chest. She looks once more upon the terrified, mutilated svirfneblin. The faces of her comrades are somber in the lambent torchlight. Her gaze briefly locks upon Solera’s. A look, heavily freighted with meaning, passes between them. Then, she kneels before them all, needing them to witness what she is about to do.

The elf takes her bone handled dagger from her boot, draws it across her palm, and grasps an arrow in her bleeding fist. Holding it point down before her, blood trickling down its shaft, her voice soaring in the post fight silence, Valindra swears the blood oath of the grugach:

Here me, Children of Lolth:
Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,
Dread nor danger, nor Doom itself,
Shall defend you from my vengeance.
This I do swear.
Death I will deal you until the ending of days.
Woe I will bring you until world’s end.
May I be doomed to everlasting darkness
Should I veer from this path.
Hear me and remember my vow.
The flames of Hell will burn out
Before you forget the name, Valindra Silverbark*

When she rises, she is smiling.

*Some of this is an allusion to The Oath of Fëanor by JRR Tolkien
Viewable by: Public
Dill stretched his toes out and then back in, the feel and warmth of the soft soil on his bare feet was comforting. He reached down and plucked a cucumber from its vine. It was small and in a week or two it would be perfect for pickling, but he sometimes liked to eat them fresh. The crunch alerted his Mother, “Dill, save some for the barrel!” Her ribbing was always the same, he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t made the usual retort. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun, finally spotting his mother off to his left. She stood silhouetted at the edge of the cucumber patch, hands on her wide hips, a full basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. Father was further afield, picking berries for his coveted spice blend, as he whistled a cheery tune.

Appealing giggles turned his attention to the right, under a copse of trees, beyond the patch were several attractive women. They shared a blanket and were in various stages of undress. “Dill, Dill, come join us,” one sultry voice called. The come-hither look from another was upstaged by her disrobing which revealed her luscious breasts. And the third, was absolutely captivating. With pouted lips she teased, “Any port in a storm?” Her skirt was split down the front to show a modest peek of muslin underdress, which she was now removing.

“Dill!” his mother’s voice was like a pail of cold water. “Dill, your father and I are headed back, why don’t you spend some time with your friends dear, you’ve earned it.”

Dill turned to his right, took his first step, over the swath of plants, into the next row. By the second row, he was nearly at a run. “Oh mommy, I must have died and gone to heaven.”
Viewable by: Public
1 comment
Lovesick and Long nights Case 46 Cont.
Going on my gut instinct, there is something really weird going on with this entire town. Things seem very straight forward and "normal" from the outside, but I don't believe they are as they seem. Two details about this case stick out to me.

1. Why would Anne take the child from Pria, if it is a case of a good citizen? She has a strange connection with children. Founding the orphanage can be seen as good, or it could be a cover of some sort. If the children she took were in the orphanage, this case would be quickly over, with it just being a case of an overstepping government taking children from unfit parents. But they're not and it's not. Which brings me to the second part...

2. Where are the children now? Orphanage? Daksh and I may need to pay them another visit, to see if all is as it appears there. Maybe ask a few questions before to see what information we can get.

It seems that the Mayor may be involved somehow. If not, Anne is just staying close to avoid suspicion.

I wish I had more time inside the gated community, unfortunately the lovesick guard was better at spotting me, than I was at sneaking past. That is how it always seems to work, no one sees the short one until he doesn't want to be seen.

Granted my mind has been a bit cloudy lately due to the visions I have been having. I can't help but feel this has something to do with my sister and dad.

That's my hope.
Viewable by: Public