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