Session 2 Recap & Experience Points Awards

 

Seven hardy men regained their calm. It was a weighty title to bear. But having just rescued a small boy from a collapsing building and a pack of vicious bloodmartens, the impromptu group might fairly be called heroes. Did they dare believe that? 

“Well done,” a lone guardsman of Larkingwood congratulated them. “Must be the storm throwing off their routines. We see one wander into town on occasion—never a whole pack like that.”

Now as the early rays of dawn washed over them came the usual sounds of morning; small birds chirped in the trees, the katydids and cicadas rattled, and the first hints of bustle kicked up a background din. This, as a low sunmother channeled the healing grace of Vitiniba, and all their scrapes and wounds melted instantly away.

The sunmother called herself Thalquira. She did not agree that the passing storm was responsible for marauding bloodmartens, and insisted “something more sinister” must be to blame. But she did not wish to elaborate, having quickly taken custody of the rescued boy and intending to shelter him at the temple.

The boy said only that his name was Paq Aball, son of Lashe Aball—whose room had been on the second floor. His departure with Thalquira left the day’s heroes alone with the guardsman, a lean and wiry fellow named Frelick Daus. “We’ll find him,” Daus called to the departing boy—a promise the heroes found strange as Paq seemed already to know his father’s tragic fate.

“Maybe his pop survived the collapse,” Daus said, as soon as the boy was out of earshot. “You never know. But anyway the East Edge is where the worst of the storm hit. Lots to do over there, undoubtedly.”

Inspecting the remains of the Aball residence more closely, the shadowblade Twink’ discerned massive structural damage that would likely make any attempt to enter the structure highly dangerous and any prolonged entry borderline suicidal. Moreover a brief inspection though the structure’s windows revealed near-total internal collapse, with a very low likelihood that anyone on the second floor could possibly have survived. Meanwhile Daus continued to discourage the group from dallying at the ruin, reiterating that the East Edge was “hardest-hit” and that “all who can help are needed there.” Weighing their choices, the party took up Daus on his suggestion, and struck east along the Kitanomichi (“North Way” in Ecbano).

Several minutes later, an elderly, somewhat deranged-looking passer-by enjoined the party that “they will say the prophecy is fulfilled! That a great storm indeed has come.” This elderly man, whom the party would later learn is known by “Old Cal,” hunched and bent over cane. He offered little in the way of elaboration—other than to say that he read the intentions of the clouds while wandering the hillsides and that some greater disaster would someday be forthcoming. “The prophecy is not yet fulfilled,” Old Cal said. “But if shall be.”

The enchanter Tristan Pureheart took especial interest in Old Cal, and stewed with frustration when her proved unable to deliver the details Tristan demanded. Finally losing his patience, Tristan attempted to invoke the arcane spell charm person to assist in his interrogations. But Tristan’s mind was not pure, and his spell proved unsuccessful. Upon the young enchanter’s failure, Old Cal cursed at embarrassed mage and stormed angrily off along the Kitanomichi.

On seeing this, an unknown man along the edge of the Kitanomichi approached the enchanter and imparted the local disdain for the use of enchantments and other such magic within the confines of town. Now Tristan turned his interrogations to this man, but he was not having any of it. “It’s none of your business who I am,” he told the enchanter. “I don’t need to answer your questions.”

Continuing east, the party came upon a darkly-clad hobbit making repairs to the outside of a small cottage. Inquiring yet again, the party found a warmer reception this time from Medard. “Well, perhaps I should accompany you to the east,” he told the party. “The damage here is just minor.”

You arrived at the East Edge just moments later. Visibility remained limited in the fleeting darkness and driving rain. But the first faint glimmer of sunlight sneaking over the horizon, together with the flickering fires and torchlights, illuminated your field of vision well enough to see that an entire row of wooden buildings has been flattened, torn away by the passing cyclone. A heavy debris field spilled out away from town, littering the broad, grassy field locals call the East Green with wooden boards and stone wreckage. It was a picture of chaos, as townspeople climbed and sifted through the rubble in the pouring down rain. Some collected strewn possessions, some bolstered flagging structures, some just wandered—calling out names of children and relatives in anguished, desperate voices.

Medard led you straight to the senior guardsman of Larkingwood, Artum Varan. Bald-shaven and severe-looking, Varan pointed and signaled commands to townspeople and guardsmen alike. He had deployed a perimeter around the area, and regretted being unable to spare guardsmen to check on the nearby farms and outlying buildings. Varan had also “received a report the cyclone lifted up a farm wagon and sent it flying toward the north woods,” Varan related. “Horse and all, it seems.”

While the party took note of the ways they could be helpful, Twink approached an afflicted man combing over the remains of his home, and asked what he was looking for. “I’ve lost everything,” the man replied. But when Twink pressed the issue, the man became hostile. He was clearly not searching for a person, and did not care to reveal to a stranger what personal valuables might be found beneath the rubble.

The party chose next to head north in search of the missing farm wagon. They came quickly upon it, just inside the edge of the woods. The poor draft horse lay dead in the field, while the shattered wagon rested in pieces strewn amidst the trees. A troupe of dark-green pine goblins sorted joyously through the litter of cracked wheels, smashed boards, and twisted metal wagon parts—most conspicuously holding half-empty liquor bottles in their hands.

When the party approached they met Fervart, who seemed to the spokesperson for the group. This may have been because his pidgin of broken Sekaran and Plekkish as the most easily understandable, or possibly because he was the least intoxicated—but either way, he proved amicable enough. The pine goblins, all dressed as farm hands and bearing no visible weapons, proved to be on an unscheduled holiday from the nearby Whiteflower Farms. Already they had helped themselves to much of the farm cart’s whiskey that survived the cyclone—and possibly some of its coin as well. But they hadn’t found all the silver, or the intact light crossbow, and held little interest in the food.

Relieved that the party did not intend to report them to their master, the pine goblins merrily “assisted” the party in packing up the onions, carrots, spinach, and other surviving produce to be taken back to the East Edge. Of course, given their state of inebriation, this assistance consisted mostly of simply moving out of the way and doing nothing as the party members gathered up the goods. But this was all that was needed, and the group soon returned to Artum Varan with ample provisions to feed the hungry cyclone survivors for several days hence.

Varan thanked the party for bringing back the farm goods, and handed them a pair of silver-plated clubs the guardsman thought might be important in their work. “With some of them big rodents—stoats is what I call them. Stoats, weasels. Some of them, you can hit ‘em solid and even sharp steel just bounces right off. But this silver now.”

Varam didn’t finish his sentence. Taking the clubs, the party then proceeded to Whiteflower Farms, twenty minutes walk to the northeast. Varan had warned that the farmer there, Arets Vitor, was “a little different” and that the party should be careful. His pine goblins farmhands had described Vitor as a “wizard,” though did not report any actual magical abilities (but rather the ability to create a rather impressive corn maze).

On reaching the farm, the party noticed that Vitor’s farm—including his crops as well as his house and outbuildings—appeared practically untouched by the passing cyclone. This may have just been good fortune, of course. But before the group could make any further inspection, they overheard Vitor bickering behind the beanstalks with the foreman of his work crew. In summary, Vitor was upset that the pine goblins were not back to work yet, now that the cyclone had passed. The foreman, a stocky and barrel-chested pine goblin called Barchuk, insisted that conditions were still too dangerous to resume the work. Dark clouds remained in the sky, he said—and on top of that, tracks of “weasels and beastmen” had been spotted along the road to the southeast.

Vitor scoffed at Barchuk’s objections. The party wasn’t sure they believed them either, knowing Barchuk had to cover for his drunken colleagues at the farm wagon site. But the argument ended without resolution when the party stepped out of the brush and presented themselves to Vitor.

“No doubt Arjen Per sent you,” the old farmer declared. “Him or his adjutant, what do they call him, Varan? Always ‘checking on me,’ they are. ‘Checking on my welfare.’ Hah! We both know why you are here.”

Jadearch the dwarf tried to assure Vitor that the party had truly come to ensure he and his workers were safe following the cyclone. But the farmer carried on with his accusations of conspiration and spying, before sardonically requesting that the party deliver news of his neighbor Savu Bari, of Mistwood Fields farm to the south. Vitor then instructed Barchuk to escort the party off the premises, and disappeared inside his farmhouse.

After sipping a swig of whiskey with Jadearch, Barchuck confirmed that weasel and beast-man tracks had truly been seen to the south. There were several known beastmen, the pine goblin foreman explained, with those by the names of Ordan, Delinda, and Arhein having been seen over the past couple days. The beastment lived in a place called the “Rock Marsh,” but were out and about under the darkened stormy skies.

Just minutes later, the party crossed onto the edges of Mistwood Fields where they indeed saw tracks of many bloodmartens and the unmistakable bipedal footprints of what could only have been such a “beastman.” The tracks were fresh and well-defined, flowing from east to west and then veered south along a protective line of trees at the edge of the farms, and so the party piqued their eyes and ears as they moved southwest toward a possible intercept point.

It was a good thing. For all of a sudden, another pack of vicious bloodmartens came charging at them from the south. And behind them stood a “beastman”—that is, a bipedal figure whose head that resembled those of the bloodmartens, but who had otherwise man-like features and held a sword.  

The party formed a skirmish line and quickly brought down several of the attacking bloodmartens with their spears and blades. But bloodmartens fought fiercely, raking their sharp claws into multiple party members and inflicting grievous wounds. Worse, a perfectly-aimed arrow from the wood elf Vagar struck the beastman right in the chest—and bounced harmlessly away. Taking stock of the peril, Tristan Pureheart raised his staff and called forth a sleep spell that promptly incapacitated all but a couple of the bloodmartens.

Tristan’s spell effectively ended the battle, as the lone beastman turned and fled southward at superhuman speed. In the meantime, three robed figures approached, bearing spears, from the heart of the Mistwood Fields farmstead. Safe for the moment, the party members caught their breath. They knew not how long this moment might last.

Adventure Notes

·       The party encountered a number of pine goblins during this session, all of whom were farm hands hired on at Whiteflower Farms. Harmless and mostly peaceful, pine goblins are generally regarded as a nuisance in the Larkingwood region as their tribes are said to steal from outlying farms and lumber camps. Some dispute these claims, however, suggesting the tales of pine goblin mischief are just a lie spread by laborers resentful of pine goblins taking work from members of “higher ancestries.” You are not sure how representative the pine goblins you met might be compared with pine goblin warriors you might encounter in the wild, but you’d estimate them as having about 3-4 HP apiece and below average strength and intelligence.

 ·       Not so harmless or peaceful was the “beastman” that attempted to ambush the party at the southeast edge of Mistwood Fields. While your limited interaction gave you little insight into the creature’s characteristics, you did note the following:

Beastman (?)

·       Immunity to normal weapons

·       Very fast running speed (20), 14 DEX

·       Ability to control, and possibly summon, bloodmartens         

 ·     You also learned that bloodmartens have a special ability to “bleed” their foes in combat on a high-enough hit roll. The bloodmarten bites the neck of their victim and remains attached, causing subsequent attacks to succeed automatically for an unknown duration.

  From Tristan’s unfruitful encounter with “Old Cal,” you have discerned that attempting to charm or otherwise invoke hostile magic spells upon fellow residents of Larkingwood is at minimum a serious social faux paus—and potentially a matter calling for the town guard’s attention. Luckily nobody takes Old Cal’s rantings seriously, and nobody else saw it. Well, almost nobody.

 ·       The party has now interacted with a number of notable Larkingwood-area NPCs. Images and vital information on these NPCs will appear under the NPCs tab on the blog. Of course, players may wish to maintain their own, more extensive notes.

Experience & Inspiration

• · The party’s interaction with Old Cal was perhaps not the most scintillating moment of the campaign to date, perhaps owing to insufficient backstory development by a DM out-of-practice with improvisation. There are many who say there is no such thing as failure, only learning experiences—but few of them role dice. 25 XP are awarded to help us all forget.

 ·       The party’s interaction with Medard was successful and resulted in a quick and efficient introduction to the senior guardsman of Larkingwood. 35 XP are awarded.

·       The party made a good impression on Artum Varan, who seems like a rather important person in Larkingwood. Varan has already rewarded the party with two silver clubs; now, 125 XP are awarded.

·       The party obtained valuable information from the drunken pine goblins gathered around the lost farm wagon, and smartly brought the recovered vegetables back to the east edge where provisions were sorely needed. 250 XP are awarded.

 ·       The party successfully managed another role-playing encounter with Arets Vitor and the pine goblin Barchuk at Whiteflower Farms, earning the goblin’s trust with a swig of whiskey and gaining insights about the roaming beastmen. 75 XP are awarded. Jadearch is awarded one inspiration point for sharing his flask with the pine goblin.

 ·       The party deftly avoided falling into the beastman’s ambush and fought off the second bloodmarten attack. Though the encounter looked momentarily dangerous, Tristan Pureheart came through with a well-timed sleep spell to substantially alleviate the peril. 425 XP is awarded.

Session 2 totals: 935 XP

The total of 935 XP / 7 characters works out to 133.57 XP apiece, so we will round that up; each of the following player characters is awarded 134 XP:

·       Jadearch

·       Brodrath

·       Tristan Pureheart

·       Vagar

·       Twinkles “Twink” Dandypants

·       Ailier Solenight

·       Brin Corso

 

Session 1 Recap & Experience Points Awards

Well before dawn, the angriest winds heard in a thousand moons huffed and howled over the mining shafts and logging camps and the riverside town of Larkingwood. There, on the worn marble floor of the weathered old temple, muddled laughter murmured through the arcades.

“Oh, for two full flagons of ale,” grumbled a resigned dwarven voice. The response, in whispered Khelgir, went largely unnoticed—most of all by the ten or twenty other tired souls still fast asleep in a scattered mass around the court. But there would be no ale this night—even the taverns were closed.

Not thirty minutes earlier, a fierce gust lifted a shard of metal off a nearby roof and hurled the same through a high stained-glass panel. The crash, or more likely the ensuing rain splatter, had awoken several of the figures taking shelter under the arms of Vitiniba this evening. They now sat in a circle chatting softly, while the fearsome storm raged outside the temple’s stone walls. For hours the winds battered the mostly wood and thatch structures of Larkingwood, until finally forming a funnel cloud and ripping eastward across the fields.

At dawn the temple doors flung wide and the first beams of daylight shone in. A throng of stern-faced priestesses entered, ringing bells and hitting their knocking sticks to roust every lodger from their sleep. “There is much damage in the town,” announced the elderly sunmother, clapping at the head of her charges. “And so there is much to be done. Help is needed on the eastern edge.”

Reluctantly the fellows rose, mostly in silence, and ambled grudgingly toward the emerging daylight. Among them, the shadowy hobbit Twink* scanned for an easy mark and set eyes upon a ragged burlap sack, no doubt left accidentally by a fellow shelterer. But alas, it was not to be—for his delay drew the attention of multiple sunmothers, who swiftly hemmed about the hobbit and prodded him toward the exit.

The hobbit's boot had not even landed its first step onto the town’s muddy gravel when a loud groan of wood and a crash reverberated through the still-falling rain. A nearby building had partly collapsed, leaving a boy of maybe ten suns dangling precariously from the remains of a third-story apartment. The wind had calmed. But already there was rubble and debris everywhere, and the smell of smoke mixed with the thick moisture and lingered in the same air as the boy’s calls for help. Seven would answer the call.

First on the scene was the novice enchanter Tristan, who sprinted to the wavering ruin and scrambled up a debris pile to rescue the boy.  The burly dwarven war priest Brodrath pulled an ejected post from nearby wreckage and wedged it against the leaning rubble, serving to brace it. Another dwarf, a warrior known as Jadearch, took a position below in case of a need to catch the boy. It’s a good thing, because Tristan botched his climb back down the same debris pile and sent the boy bounding toward the ground—where surely he would have been badly injured, had he not landed in the waiting arms of Jadearch.

Yet there was still not a moment to think. No sooner had Jadearch caught the falling youth, than the vicious amber eyes of a skulking bloodmarten launched from the shadows and tried to make a meal of the rescued boy. Luckily, Jadearch was able to block the creature’s path, sustaining only a minor wound from the bloodmarten’s wild claw.

A moment later, six more bloodmartens emerged from the darkness. But the laconic elven spellsword Vagar, standing vigilant on the group’s left flank, stepped before three of the beasts and roasted them with a burning hands spell. The flames washed over each of the three, badly hurting them though they persisted in their charge. But one would soon fall dead at the hands of Jadearch, who stepped forward and hurled his spear. On the right flank, the duo of Ailer and Brin Corso bashed two more bloodmartens down.

Badly outnumbered, and with many of their companions dead before them, the remaining bloodmartens turned and fled down a facing street. But one made it only a few steps before an arrow from the longbow of Vagar ripped fatally through its neck.

The other would have escaped. But a town guardsman, arriving to the scene from the opposite direction, stepped in front of the fleeing bloodmarten and ran it through with a spear. “Frelick Daus” said the guardsman, pulling the spear back out from the fallen animal. “At your service.”

The din of battle finally gave way to silence, and the accidental company looked to each other and nodded in satisfaction. In a moment, a low priestess of Vitiniba approached the scene and took custody of the rescued child. “The light of The Most Exalted Sunmother shines upon you,” she told the group. “May her grace see you safely to the Eastern Edge.” With those words, she uttered a sweet-sounding incantation, and flicked a shroud of crackling divine resolve over the heroes of the morning.

But not even Vitiniba herself might know what the next chapter might bring.

Adventure Notes

•  The party encountered a type of overgrown mustelid in this introductory chapter, known locally as a “Bloodmarten.” Though startling in appearance, with a long body and a fearsome set of teeth, the bloodmartens did not prove to be especially challenging.  You estimated the following characteristics:

Bloodmarten

STR: 12, DEX: 15, CON: 10, INT: 3, WIS: 6, CHA: 6

AC: 7, HP: ~3 each THAC0: 20, Damage: d6

•  Frelick Daus has introduced himself to the party. He’s a human guardsman about 5’10” and who looks to be of about average strength. Knows how to handle a spear though, you’ve seen that. You wonder what else he might know about.

 ·       The low sunmother bestowed a special blessing upon you as a reward for the child’s rescue. This will provide a +1 bonus to each character’s next attack roll or saving throw (whichever comes first). {This is a new divine spell called sunmother’s favor, now available to divine casters with access to the life sphere}. She also healed any lingering wounds of the party members, before spiriting the boy off to safety in the temple.

 ·      The spellsword Vagar positioned himself smartly before three charging bloodmartens and unleashed the tactically perfect spell, burning hands. Unfortunately, the spell only inflicted a measly one point of damage per caster level—meaning one point of damage per target. This damage was frankly far less than the DM had remembered, and . The DM considers this damage insufficient—particularly as burning hands has such a short attack range. Therefore, the spell description of burning hands has been modified to reflect improve damage depending on the type of gemstone dedicated to preparing the spell. And as luck would have it, Vagar finds he happens to have a small red jasper in his spell components pouch.

 Experience & Inspiration

• ·       The company formed as disaster struck, in the form of a nearby house collapsing from storm damage and leaving a young boy stranded on a precarious high ledge. An adventuring company formed from who answered the call. 75 XP

 ·       Though not well acquainted, the members of this small group came together and worked quickly to rescue the boy. Teamwork proved essential as Tristan the enchanter lost his grip on the boy while climbing down, but Jadearch the dwarf was luckily there to catch him. 125 XP

 ·        The party then faced its first combat encounter, as a pack of seven bloodmartens surrounded and attacked the group. Where they came from is anybody’s guess. But the important thing is the party fought them off, and made sure they could not get to the rescued boy. 250 XP.

 ·       The company’s brave actions also earned the approval of both the Larkingwood Town Guard and the Temple of Vitiniba. While this may pay dividends down the line, the company is instantly awarded 100 XP for making a good first impression.

Session 1 totals: 550 XP

Each of the following player characters is awarded 79 XP:

·       Jadearch

·       Brodrath

·       Tristan

·       Vagar

·       Twink

·       Ailier

·       Brin Corso

Aug. 8, 2025 Updates Rules & Technical doc 1.3

 

Made a few changes to the cleric and divine magic system.

• Collapsed the 18 spheres of divine magic into five spheres. The five spheres are: Elemental, Life/Nature, Necromancy, Time/Space/Movement, and Telepathic/Psychic.

• Revised the divine spells to sort them into these five spheres instead of the 18 from before. 

Reason for change: we are starting with just the old AD&D 1e spells and there are not very many of them. Thus, sorting them into 18 different spheres is likely to leave some divine casters with very few choices available at some spell levels--possibly even no spells at all.

I tried to mitigate this by assigning spells to more than one sphere, but this made it very difficult to track how many spells and of what kind had been sorted into which spheres, layered on top of the complexity associated with several different types of clerics only have access to certain spheres (and minor and major access at that). So to simplify, all spells are now divided among just five spheres; most clerics will have major access to two spheres and minor access to a third, though a couple types of clerics with enhanced fighting ability may have access to just two spheres. 

If cleric characters are not getting a reasonable choice of spells, then I will likely address this simply by adding more spells. But this seems like a problem for down the road given that first-level clerics are not going to have access to very many spells anyway!

Rules & Technical version 1.3

Sekara Valley Map

 Sketched by an unknown sage from Daystar. Created fairly recently, if judging by the condition of the parchment. Distances are not well known. 

VTT Tokens

The bad thing about playing on a virtual table top is, you can't use actual miniatures. 

The good news is, you can use tokens. These samples were created with Roll Advantage's token stamp.