Farther West Than West

Days eleven through twenty
war breaks out

After leaving the dig site, we traveled East until we made it to the oasis. As we were walking down the dune, we spotted two giant lizards drinking at the oasis. The half-orc Leolian who was our guide told us they were macetails, and would make good eating if we could kill ‘em before they ran off. Lucky for us, our heroes made short work of the pair, and everyone had their fill of dino-burgers that night. Leolian even showed us how to make jerky from their meat, so we had provisions for the rest of our trek. Just like the guide said, five days later we made into Gar’rosh, and a great feast was held to welcome us to the village and to thank the heroes for returning their lost brethren.

After a few days rest, we headed Northeast to the town of Sweetwater on the Bronvent River. The tribe was kind enough to give us a ride there on a sandsail; kinda like a boat that glides along the sand. It was unsettling at first, but much more enjoyable than having to walk. When we got to the town, the heroes set off to find transport to Havnor, and we looked for lodging. I was able to arrange sleeping quarters for the handful of us left at the local temple of Pelor. Outside the town proper was a good amount of farmland that was irrigated from the Bronvent, and so the temple of Pelor was pretty well off and able to accomadate our basic necessities. The heroes took lodging at the Gilded Rose, the best establishment in town, and my people took offense to that. Even though I shared their sentiment, I was able to calm them down by explaining the heroes deserved it after all the trouble they went to to rescue us.

After two nights sleeping on the floor of the church stables, we met up with the heroes at the docks for our trip down river. It turned out they had paid our fare to Havnor with Mr. Finnegan, the proprietor of the shipping company. They might have left us to sleep like farm animals, but at least they were finally gonna get us home. We took a raft down river to Stonewharf, where the Bronvent meets the Northern Sea. Stonewharf is a marvel of dwarven engineering. Even though the townsfolk are almost entirely halflings, the architecture is without a doubt dwarven. A dozen stone jetties jut out to the sea, and each one has at least twenty docks; more boats than I had ever seen before. The stonework shows no signs of aging from the sea either; probably enchanted I’d imagine.

We met the captain of the vessel that would take us to Havnor, a halfling named Mr. Catfish. He claimed his boat the Marlin was the fastest around, and would have us to Havnor in no time. We set sail that afternoon with a good wind at our back and a smile on our faces. Finally, we were headed back to Lebannen territory.

We were making good time after a couple days out, when a shadow appeared above the horizon. A griffon approached, with a rider on its back wearing Lebannen colors. The griffon made a few circles above us and headed back West. Shortly after we could see a entire fleet sailing right towards us. One of the boats approached us and an officer and some marines boarded the Marlin and first they took the dwarf Brak and the goliaths prisoner, declaring them prisoners of war, and then they told Mr. Catfish they were commandeering his boat. After that they took the heroes to the command ship to get debriefed. While they were away, a lieutenant Kensington took over as captain of the Marlin, and brought over six marines to maintain security. He then kicked Mr. catfish out of his quarters, and claimed them as his own. I try not to speak ill if the deceased, but Lt. Kensington was a proper bastard.

When the heroes returned from the flagship, they told us all that the Lebannen North Fleet was on its way to cpature Dran’s Holding on its way to a siege of Irondeep. Turns out the dwarves were the ones behind the kidnapping of the prince, and were in league with the red mage and the tattooed orc. King Marten considered that an act of war and was reciprocating in kind. Now I wasn’t sure who the responsible party was, but it looked like four of the nine hells were about to be opened up. The heroes decided they weren’t going to help destroy Dran’s Holding, but to attempt to attack the fleet would be certain suicide. So we were gonna run. First we had to take back control of the Marlin, then rescue the others before making a break for it. The night prior to the Massacre of Dran’s Holding, the heroes disposed of the marines and Lt. Kensington on the Marlin, then took one of the lifeboats to the ship where the prisoners were held. Shortly after, they returned with the three goliaths, Brak, and Chum, the dwarf cook of the Marlin. I didn’t ask how they got back the others, but I assume there methods on that ship were as fatal as the ones used on the Marlin.

Right as the attack started, we used the confusion to break free of the formation and head south as fast as we could. The remaining prisoners had control of the prison ship and attempted to follow us south. Sadly, the Marlin was able to outrun the fleet’s cannons that noticed our leaving, the prison ship was not able to, and sank as we fled the battle.

Immediately when we got to Stonewharf, Brak ran to the government office to tell them what had happened and to send word to Irondeep. As a show of good faith, the local government offered us some of the land outside Sweetwater to have as our own, seeing as we were homeless and the borders were closed now. Figuring that was as good a deal as we were gonna get, I accepted their offer, and as you can see, I still live here and manage Smithwain farms. That was the last I saw of the heroes, and never did I imagine what an impact they would make.

-As told to Chief Historian Che’Terar by Mr. Darwin Smithwain 4-18-4335 CY

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Days Three Through Ten
An Amulet in the Desert

So the bard and his companions arrived in the teleportaiton circle, and immediately the tattooed man makes a charge at them. I figured they were done for, but the three of em put a heck of a wallop on the half-orc, and it looked like they might have been able kill him outright. But when the fight started to approach a stalemate, out of the command tent appeared a fella dressed in red robes from head to toe.

I’d been digging that darn hole for four days at this point, and I’d never seen this man before, and it looked like none of the other prisoners had either. Well, he commands for the fighting to cease, and just like that, the fight was over; whoever this guy was, he had an air of authority that couldn’t be denied. After he’d gotten the attention of the three would-be heroes, he explained to them that he was looking for an amulet, and had been unable to find it here at the excavation. We had unearthed the remains of a temple out there in the desert, and I hadn’t seen anything worth taking, but I guess that was why we had to keep digging. Anyhow, the man in red tells the three that he thinks the amulet was inside a cave we had discovered a about 30 meters from the main structure of the temple. some of his lackeys had already gone in, and not all had come out. The native folks we had in chains with us said they had probably gotten eaten by spiders or sandworms, either way, served em right. The man in red told the three that they had three hours to bring him his amulet, or he was gonna kill all of us (the prisoners). He even allowed one of the prisoners to go along with em for extra help. The fella they got was this dwraf Brak; he says when they captured his caraven, he killed 2 of the attackers himself and crippled a third. I believed him too, he had the composure of a dwarf you do not want to cross.

At this point, the four of them went into the cave to retrieve that necklace the robed man wanted so badly. while they were in the cave, the guards lined us up along the edge of the excavation pit in a single line. We were told that if they did not return with the amulet, and things turned ugly, we would be killed, just like he had promised. I remember him saying that he didn’t particularly want to have to kill us, but he gave his word he would, and the sanctity of his word was more important than our lives. As we got closer to the three hour time limit, I could see the man in red having a heated conversation with the tattooed man. My guess is they were trying to figure out what to do if the heroes never returned; probably would have sent some of us in after em to get eaten by sandworms. Luckily, the heroes came out of the cave, and they had the amulet with them! It was beautiful. The amulet had an emerald of the purest green, and it seemd to glow with a magical energy. No wonder the red man wanted this amulet so bad, it was obviously magical.

True to his word, in exchange for the amulet, the red man let us all go, and he and his minions were returning to their magical portal. As our former captors were walking away, the bard couldn’t resist to hurl an insult at one of the guards, something about the intestinal fortitude of his forebears. The red man stopped, spoke a few words to the tattooed fella, and then the red man disappeared through the portal, and the half-orc charged head long into battle. The would-be heroes put a beating upon the tattooed man he wouldn’t soon forget, and they even convinced some of us prisoners to join the fight with them. Those poor fools; I was content to watch from the sidelines; like I said before, I was already an old man by then. All the prisoners that joined the fight got their guts ran through by a spear. Our heroes led a few of us to slaughter that day, and some folks didn’t soon forget that. Before they could separate the tattooed man’s head from his body, he fell back to the portal and disappeared, but he had some pretty gruesome injuries to take with him as a souveneir. The portal was rigged to engulf any of us who tried to use it. The trap was tested by throwing the body of one our dead comrades into the portal and then watching him get incinerated. Again, our heroes weren’t exactly out to make friends that day. After a bit of argument, we decided our next course action was to head to Garrosh, the capital of, and only established settlement here in the dryland. A holy-man of the tribe was one of the prisoners, and he said their was an oasis two days East of us, then we could walk North, and should reach Garrosh after another 5 days or so. I know noe of us felt like walking for a week in that forsaken desert, but we had little choice. If we were gonna ever make it back to House Lebannen lands, we had to place ourselves in the care of the bard and his companions, for better or for worse.

-As told to Chief Historian Che’Terar by Mr. Darwin Smithwain 4-17-4335 CY

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Days Two and Three
The Village of Re Albi

After escorting the prince to Havnor Keep, we were thanked by King Martin, if only breifly, and were then handed off to Colonel Faust. I have only seen Col. Faust on one other occasion, and it was during my training in the Havnor militia, when he spoke at our graduation ceremony. Now able to speak with him personally, I can assure you, he is the right man for the job. His being a tiefling is initially unsettling, but he gets things done, and I can respect a man of action.

Col. Faust asked us what we knew about the night’s events, and we told him our story as best we could. It seems the demon’s presence has caused a panic in the city, and some of the more opportunistic citizens have taken to looting. Also, a fire broke out down at the docks, and if not contained soon, it will definately put a strain on Havnor’s commerce. After hearing our tale and determining we were not involved with the plot, Col. Faust awarded us each 150 gold pieces and a fine weapon as well. I took a long spear; if it fails me in combat, at least it will look nice on my wall.

We spent the remainder of the night in a guest room of the Keep. A man could get used to such luxury! The following morning Col. Faust approached us and asked if we were interested in doing some work for him. I regretfully informed him I had my caravan to escort back to Fallcrest, and we had already delayed our departure to see the end of the festival. I said my goodbyes to the group, then headed out to rendezvous with my waiting caravan. It seemed the eladrin fellow who called himself “The Doctor” also had something to attend to, but Lunesta and Gregg took up Col. Faust’s offer. I wish them all the best of luck.

At the Eastern gate, my caravan was prepped and ready to leave just as we had planned the day before. After a giving the train a once-over, we headed out towards Fallcrest. Hopefully the clear weather will persist; it will likely take us 5 days to get back to Fallcrest with the wagons loaded to bursting as they are. I turned over command of the caravan to Lt. Brownstone, then retreated to my wagon for some additional rest; my body doesn’t recover nearly as well as it once did.

Personal Journals Capt. Daniel Farnsworth 10-27-4315 CY


We had all gathered in the tavern to hear the bard that had arrived in town. We did’t get many traveling acts in Re Albi. Back then our little village had only about 50 people. We used to have more people when the mines were operational, but ever since they had stopped producing, as soon as anyone got any coin in their pocket they left Re Albi without a second thought. There wasn’t much chance of a future in our corner of the kingdom. Some of the boys joined the royal militia, and got to go to Havnor for training. But soon after they would be back, stationed at the old fort up the hill outside of town. There wasn’t much to do at the fort now that the mines didn’t need protecting and no one traveled the roads anymore, but at least being in the King’s service gave them a sense of pride they didn’t have before.

As I was saying, when it happened we had all gathered in the tavern to hear the bard that had come through. He must have been down on his luck to be forced to play our tavern, but I doubted he thought it would get as bad as it did. He had a good singing voice, and he played the mandolin like nobody’s business. Good enough for the King’s court I imagine; couldn’t begin to think what he must have done to be forced to play for pennies out here on the fringes. But I digress; the bard was halfway through his third song when it happened.

They appeared as if from nowhere, crazed men with devilish looks in their eyes. The leader was a half-orc who was covered head to toe with ornate tattoos, as fearsome a visage as one could ever have the misfortune of seeing. They stormed through the tavern, savagely beating anyone who dared to resist them. I was already past my prime at this point, and had no hopes of fighting back. The best we could hope for was for the fellas at the fort to come to our aid. After they had corraled us all up, they marched us to the fort, and I knew no help was coming. We were held in the prison cells below the fort, and I could see that most of the fort’s soldirs were down in the cells with us. Jansen’s boy was killed during the attack of the fort, but I was told he took two of them bastards with him.

Soon after we were captured, the tattoed man came down to the cells and told us the portal was ready, and that all those able to lift a shovel were coming with him. Like I had said, I was already in my early fifties at this time, but they figured I was good enough for manual labor, and lucky for me too. They left the young children and the old folks in the cells then marched us to the top of the watchtower of the fort. On our way up I overheard the tattoed man talking to another nasty looking half-orc about using the blood of the young-ones for some summoning ritual and the prince Rodric. I knew then nothing could be done for them and I said a quick prayer to Pelor to ease their suffering.

At the top of the watchtower was a teleportation circle, and we were taken through it by the tattooed man. We arrived at what looked like a dig-site in what must be the dry-land; the mountains that are South of Re Albi were now to the West. They marched us down to the edge of the site and gave us picks and shovels and told us to start digging. Anyone attempting to flee or resist would be killed on the spot, and I didn’t doubt them for a second. There were already people digging at the site; some Goliaths who had been attacked in Winter’s Bite, some Dwarves who had been trading along the eastern edge of the dry-land, and some Humans and Half-orcs who were native to the area. I was able to learn that they had all been attacked similar to us, the dwarves were captured two weeks before us, and had been there the longest.

It was quickly apparent we weren’t digging some random hole in the desert; we were unearthing a temple! Whatever was in there, the tattooed man wanted it, and he worked us to death. I had been there three or four days and was wondering how much longer I could possibly go, when I noticed a soldier come down from the teleportation circle and alerted the tatooed man that there was a commotion at the old fort. So help had come at last! The soldier didn’t appear worried, he was just reporting events. My heart sunk at this, but then they appeared!

It looked like the bard had gone for help! Out of the teleportation circle walked him, a dragonborn wielding a greatsword, and what could have only been a wizard. I didn’t know what three people could possibly do to save us, but they were the best help we had available.

-As told to Chief Historian Che’Terar by Mr. Darwin Smithwain 4-17-4335 CY

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Day One continued
inside the house

As we approached the house, we heard a pair of goblins arguing, and unable to come up with a better idea, we knocked on the door. The goblin who answered the door was not happy to have visitors, and promptly shut the door in our faces after telling us to leave. Unwilling to cooperate with the goblin, we attempted to knock down the door; it was a very sturdy door. The Doctor even got his sword stuck in the wood when he was trying to cleave it open. Eventually we were able to break down the door, and the pair of goblins immediately attacked us.

The goblins had a guard drake which furiously protected its masters, and additional people joined the fray from other rooms in the house. One half-orc archer proved very troublesome, and managed to hit his quarry more than a few times while crouching down behind a corner, making hinmself a small target. During the ruckus, one of the gangsters managed to flee the scene, commenting that the dwarf hadn’t paid him enough to take this kind of risk. As we were clearing the bottom story, we heard a humming sound from upstairs, and quietly went up the stairs to investigate.

When we opened the door to the upstairs room, a fierce looking dwarf was operating some sort of arcane machinery, the source of the humming. As we were battling the dwarf and his warhammer, two more people joined the fight, happy to wet their daggers with our blood. On top of all this, the machine started to act haywire, and fired bolts of electricty around the room. We bested the remaining forces, but not before The Doctor was nearly killed by a dagger to the chest. Once we investigated the room, we discovered a prisoner hidden below some floor boards at the back of the room. The fellow appeared to be Prince Rodric! Concerned with the increase in the noise the machine was making, we fled the scene with haste, but it appeared the machine had simply shutoff, and had not exploded as we expected.

We quickly made our way to Havnor Keep, hoping to get Rodric to a safe place, and hoping to get some answers just to what is going on.

-Personal Journals, Capt. Daniel Farnsworth 10-27-4315 CY

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Day One
welcome to the party

I had arrived in Havnor as part of a routine trip to get supplies for Fallcrest. I, being captain of the guard, was escorting a caravan of private shop owners; it is in the best interest of Fallcrest if the shops are well stocked. The caravan had arrived in Havnor during the week-long festivities celebrating the 17th birthday of Rodrick, eldest son of House Lebannen, and the heir apparent to the throne. The need to arrive during the festival was two-fold: many people from throughout the lands of House Lebannen had traveled to Havnor, and many rare and hard to get goods were available; also, I had some personal business to attend to, and the extra people about would allow me to conduct my business without causing any undo suspicion.

On the final day of the festival, a fireworks display was to be shown, and I wanted the best possible view; fireworks displays are a rare occurence in Fallcrest. I traveled to the commercial district above the port, and saw a party being held on the roof of one of the nicer shops. I convinced the door man I was on official business (it helps to be in uniform sometimes) and quickly made my way to the roof. The fireworks were quite amazing (apparently they had some fellows from Roke brought in for the occasion). Right as the display was reaching its apex, a scream was heard from inside, and onto the patio burst out a creature that resembled an ape made out of fog; it was a demon for sure.

Immediately people fled in panic as the beast thrashed about, harming all in its path. I immediately sprang to the defense of the people, and was quite thankful to see like-minded individuals ready to combat the abominable creature. As people ran down the stairs to the street, a large, rather intimidating dragonborn charged at the beast, swinging his broadsword. I got alongside the fellow, doing my best to assist him as I could. As the two of us kept the demon busy in close-range combat, a pair of wizards hurled spells at the beast, one using missiles of magic, the other using icy blasts. With our combined efforts, we managed to slay the demon, with only a few civilian casualties. One of the fellows we had saved offered us 40 gold pieces as a reward, and we gladly accepted the monies.

Once we had dispatched the demon, we decided the best course of action was to find where it came from; as we were sure this was no random occurence. With the aid of the wizards’ mastery of the arcane, and a few well-placed threats from my new dragonborn commpanion, we were able to learn that an odd fellow has been seen around the commercial districts lately, always with a retinue of goblin bodyguards; and we were directed towards the local university, where it appears the demon originated. Following the trail, we approached a house in the residential zone outside the university, where faculty usually live. Whoever had summoned that demon was surely inside that house.

-Personal Journals, Capt. Daniel Farnsworth 10-26-4315 CY

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Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

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