Adjo's Journals (1 of N)
Aug. 21st, 2008 10:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluegargantuaHi,
I'm writing up session reports for our new 4th ed. D&D game.
It is well that my desire for vengeance burns so fiercely. It is the only thing keeping me warm in this gods-forsaken land. I imagine that the hellish planes of the ice devils is not nearly so inhospitable as this place.
Shortly after arriving at the Shieldwall, they put us through a series of exercises. My natural talent and expertise was apparent even to these bellowing meat shields. After a rousing motivational speech by the Captain, I was informed that I was being assigned to the Scout Service for intelligence gathering purpose -- something desperately required by the vast majority here and a perfect fit for my own keen intellect. Our commanding officer is a Centurion named Dunhouse (Dunghill?, no Dunhouse). He gave us an even more motivational speech and then took us on a tour of the wall.
Frankly, even without the Northmen, I would've built the Shieldwall just so I didn't have to look out over the landscape. The wall is two miles long, anchored with a fortress on either end (oh! And you'll never guess! The fortress on the East is called the East Fortress and the fortress on the West is called the West Fortress! What little brains they possess have been frozen to rocks.). There's also a small advance fortress on the far side of the wall called the Hook where apparently they stuff it full of poor sods to serve as bait until the weather becomes too severe for them to stay out there. I wonder why the Northmen don't just occupy the spot once the Commonwealth clears out? Well, they have been battering themselves against this stupid wall for over 8000 years so I suppose they've got even less imagination than the legions.
What else? Oh yes, there's some sort of magical forest that's the sacred spot of some Goddess. The Northmen don't venture into it although she seems to like the Scouts well enough to let them in if they're appropriately respectful. I also understand that the Goddess's benevolence extends to making winter less severe within the forest's confines. If I were an Icelander, I'd be worshiping my lips off kissing her butt -- she might decide to extend her protections further.
And that's about it really. We got a pass to go into town and pick up some cold-weather gear that wasn't government issue.
I suppose I should mention my fellow scouts. I should probably also make a point to remember their names, although from the Centurion's glowing description, it would take more time than the average length of a Scout's career, but a bit of politeness for form's sake and all that.
Let's see, there's:
Alana (or Alyna?) -- she's a Drow cleric of...crap, I can't remember. The one who's all sweetness and light and stuff. Not the same Goddess as the one who has the magical forest.
Kestrel (I think? or is that the Tiefling?) -- she's an Eldrain and clearly a thief or scout or something.
Thrace -- warforged paladin of...someone. She(?) is kind of interesting. I haven't encountered a wide range of warforged. She seems to be an excellent specimen and I admit to some jealousy that she can't feel the incredible cold of this place.
Taurik? Taurin? -- He's a Drgaonborn (bronze? brass? copper? remember to check when it's light out). Clearly just a brawler, but I'm not about to piss in his beer any time soon.
The Tiefling -- maybe she's Kestrel and not the Eldrain? She's a swordmage. I'm actually a bit surprised, it's usually males who go in for the swordmage deal (a powerful sword that shoots out dramatic magical effects?), but she is rather...manly looking. Actually, the Eldrain is too. Maybe that's why I juxtapose their names. Anyway, tielfing, magic sword, yay.
Some of the musters were late in arriving and after our first day (escorting supplies from Seawatch to the wall) another team member arrived. I only met the man in a rush yesterday so I have no idea who he is (oh, wait, Shay, his name is Shay). He's a human, so it's nice to have another round-ear in the group. But he's also clearly the kind of scum a press-gang rounds up. I doubt there will be any enlivening conversation to be found with him.
So after an exhilarating day of playing mule drivers we turn in for the night. We are rudely awoken at some ungodly hour of the morning to the news that the wall is being attacked. Apparently the Northmen have decided to start their winter wars real early this year under the cover of snow. Yeah, day two of winter and it's already snowing. I can't believe I've only got another 178 days up here.
Dunhouse has us sitting out for awhile waiting and then finally things seem to settle down. He's convinced that the Northmen have sent a small scouting party to keep watch on the Wall from our side. The attack hit a very particular section of the Wall being manned by one of the newly arrived legions. If there hadn't been a veteran legion billeting behind that spot on the wall, there might have been a full breach. The Northmen were either extremely lucky or they had someone spotting for weak points on our side. Dunhouse has sent a guy out to take a look and when he comes back, we're supposed to go out and do a "recon in force". The only good news arising out of this is that we're explicitly ordered to go get some shut-eye for our noctournal expeditions. Beats walking the wall or guarding a stinking wagon team.
Night falls and we meet up with Dunhouse again. His man, a dwarf named Hendel, has come back and reports that there's an old Dwarven outpost that appears to be where the enemy has set up shop. Why the Commonwealth hasn't taken advantage of this spot for themselves is not entirely clear to me. I am also somewhat at a loss to explain why they're sending us out to clear out the place when there are whole legions sprawled out around here. I'd think a company of warriors would be more than sufficient to clear this mess up. But I was brought on as an Arcane Consultant, not Master of Strategy so who am I to point out the obvious?
So in the middle of the freezing night, we trek out of the camp and circle around the long way to come up on this abandoned outpost. Kestrel and Shay spot something up ahead and we fall back while they sneak forward to check it out. They then proceed to "sneak" forward while bickering about who was making too much noise. I was nearly laid low by a terrible premonition of doom [OOC: First PC rolls of the game? A pair of 1's]. Of course, the Gibbers were not at all surprised by the approach of our comrades. Luckily, they are terrible shots with their crossbows and our rogues are much better at flinging sharp bits of metal than they are at keeping quiet. The promptly dispatched all three of the beastly little guards in a frightening display of ruthless efficiency.
Our luck turned somewhat better, however, for we discovered that the guards were protecting a secret backdoor entrance to the outpost we were about to assault. We decided to take advantage of this good fortune and decided to infiltrate from behind and take the outpost by surprise. Shortly thereafter, we found ourselves in a F-shaped arrangement of corridors with locked doors on both of the short arms of the "F". These doors were quickly disabled by Shay and we took cautious peeks into the room beyond. There was only one room, one giant room filled with large pillars of obvious dwarven construction. The rouges took point and Hendel and the Dragonborn followed in close behind them. The rest of the party, held back.
The rogues flitted from shadow to shadow, oozing like black oil around the pillars. They were a smear of nothingness in the dark. Then Shay fell into a pit trap, the alarms went off, the doors slammed shut and locked and a pair of pits opened up at our feet.
I'm not entirely clear on what happened in the large room. Apparently there were lots of Gibbers and pit traps and the fighter had a merry old time finding traps by falling into them. I only arrived at the very end to cook off the last Gibber.
On my side of the door, however, things were distinctly less dangerous although certainly more disheartening. I stepped out and started assailing my door with magical fires. Thrace and the Tiefling attacked their door the old-fashioned way and were counter-attacked by the door itself (very cunning, those dwarves) and were tossed back towards the pit.
Meanwhile, Alana rushed around the corner to attack the door I was working on, made a mighty leap, and promptly fell into the pit. As she was my teammate, I felt that I probably should assist her in some way so I sent another blast at the door and then, like any sensible person might, I grabbed onto the edge of the pit, lowered myself down and then dropped the last little distance, calmly walked to the far side of the pit and prepared to give her a boost out. Despite my assistance, she completely failed. I made my own, desultory attempt to climb out and then set up to give her a boost. This time she made it out and returned the favor, reaching down to pull me out of the pit. We finally hacked our door open and rejoined our teammates on the far side where, as I said, most of our opponents had been dispatched and I simply snuffed out the last problem.
So far it has been an inauspicious beginning. I've been able to scribble down most of this while the others are recovering from the fight. The Dragonborn, in particular, took some fairly hard knocks -- almost entirely from the pit traps he stumbled into. Doubtless this will be found by some ignorant Northman savage, but should some literate soul find these notes, be sure and raise a marker for me. Upon the stone please inscribe: Here lies Adjo. Heed his warning. If you're smarter than your fellows, find some smarter fellows.
later
Tom
I'm writing up session reports for our new 4th ed. D&D game.
It is well that my desire for vengeance burns so fiercely. It is the only thing keeping me warm in this gods-forsaken land. I imagine that the hellish planes of the ice devils is not nearly so inhospitable as this place.
Shortly after arriving at the Shieldwall, they put us through a series of exercises. My natural talent and expertise was apparent even to these bellowing meat shields. After a rousing motivational speech by the Captain, I was informed that I was being assigned to the Scout Service for intelligence gathering purpose -- something desperately required by the vast majority here and a perfect fit for my own keen intellect. Our commanding officer is a Centurion named Dunhouse (Dunghill?, no Dunhouse). He gave us an even more motivational speech and then took us on a tour of the wall.
Frankly, even without the Northmen, I would've built the Shieldwall just so I didn't have to look out over the landscape. The wall is two miles long, anchored with a fortress on either end (oh! And you'll never guess! The fortress on the East is called the East Fortress and the fortress on the West is called the West Fortress! What little brains they possess have been frozen to rocks.). There's also a small advance fortress on the far side of the wall called the Hook where apparently they stuff it full of poor sods to serve as bait until the weather becomes too severe for them to stay out there. I wonder why the Northmen don't just occupy the spot once the Commonwealth clears out? Well, they have been battering themselves against this stupid wall for over 8000 years so I suppose they've got even less imagination than the legions.
What else? Oh yes, there's some sort of magical forest that's the sacred spot of some Goddess. The Northmen don't venture into it although she seems to like the Scouts well enough to let them in if they're appropriately respectful. I also understand that the Goddess's benevolence extends to making winter less severe within the forest's confines. If I were an Icelander, I'd be worshiping my lips off kissing her butt -- she might decide to extend her protections further.
And that's about it really. We got a pass to go into town and pick up some cold-weather gear that wasn't government issue.
I suppose I should mention my fellow scouts. I should probably also make a point to remember their names, although from the Centurion's glowing description, it would take more time than the average length of a Scout's career, but a bit of politeness for form's sake and all that.
Let's see, there's:
Alana (or Alyna?) -- she's a Drow cleric of...crap, I can't remember. The one who's all sweetness and light and stuff. Not the same Goddess as the one who has the magical forest.
Kestrel (I think? or is that the Tiefling?) -- she's an Eldrain and clearly a thief or scout or something.
Thrace -- warforged paladin of...someone. She(?) is kind of interesting. I haven't encountered a wide range of warforged. She seems to be an excellent specimen and I admit to some jealousy that she can't feel the incredible cold of this place.
Taurik? Taurin? -- He's a Drgaonborn (bronze? brass? copper? remember to check when it's light out). Clearly just a brawler, but I'm not about to piss in his beer any time soon.
The Tiefling -- maybe she's Kestrel and not the Eldrain? She's a swordmage. I'm actually a bit surprised, it's usually males who go in for the swordmage deal (a powerful sword that shoots out dramatic magical effects?), but she is rather...manly looking. Actually, the Eldrain is too. Maybe that's why I juxtapose their names. Anyway, tielfing, magic sword, yay.
Some of the musters were late in arriving and after our first day (escorting supplies from Seawatch to the wall) another team member arrived. I only met the man in a rush yesterday so I have no idea who he is (oh, wait, Shay, his name is Shay). He's a human, so it's nice to have another round-ear in the group. But he's also clearly the kind of scum a press-gang rounds up. I doubt there will be any enlivening conversation to be found with him.
So after an exhilarating day of playing mule drivers we turn in for the night. We are rudely awoken at some ungodly hour of the morning to the news that the wall is being attacked. Apparently the Northmen have decided to start their winter wars real early this year under the cover of snow. Yeah, day two of winter and it's already snowing. I can't believe I've only got another 178 days up here.
Dunhouse has us sitting out for awhile waiting and then finally things seem to settle down. He's convinced that the Northmen have sent a small scouting party to keep watch on the Wall from our side. The attack hit a very particular section of the Wall being manned by one of the newly arrived legions. If there hadn't been a veteran legion billeting behind that spot on the wall, there might have been a full breach. The Northmen were either extremely lucky or they had someone spotting for weak points on our side. Dunhouse has sent a guy out to take a look and when he comes back, we're supposed to go out and do a "recon in force". The only good news arising out of this is that we're explicitly ordered to go get some shut-eye for our noctournal expeditions. Beats walking the wall or guarding a stinking wagon team.
Night falls and we meet up with Dunhouse again. His man, a dwarf named Hendel, has come back and reports that there's an old Dwarven outpost that appears to be where the enemy has set up shop. Why the Commonwealth hasn't taken advantage of this spot for themselves is not entirely clear to me. I am also somewhat at a loss to explain why they're sending us out to clear out the place when there are whole legions sprawled out around here. I'd think a company of warriors would be more than sufficient to clear this mess up. But I was brought on as an Arcane Consultant, not Master of Strategy so who am I to point out the obvious?
So in the middle of the freezing night, we trek out of the camp and circle around the long way to come up on this abandoned outpost. Kestrel and Shay spot something up ahead and we fall back while they sneak forward to check it out. They then proceed to "sneak" forward while bickering about who was making too much noise. I was nearly laid low by a terrible premonition of doom [OOC: First PC rolls of the game? A pair of 1's]. Of course, the Gibbers were not at all surprised by the approach of our comrades. Luckily, they are terrible shots with their crossbows and our rogues are much better at flinging sharp bits of metal than they are at keeping quiet. The promptly dispatched all three of the beastly little guards in a frightening display of ruthless efficiency.
Our luck turned somewhat better, however, for we discovered that the guards were protecting a secret backdoor entrance to the outpost we were about to assault. We decided to take advantage of this good fortune and decided to infiltrate from behind and take the outpost by surprise. Shortly thereafter, we found ourselves in a F-shaped arrangement of corridors with locked doors on both of the short arms of the "F". These doors were quickly disabled by Shay and we took cautious peeks into the room beyond. There was only one room, one giant room filled with large pillars of obvious dwarven construction. The rouges took point and Hendel and the Dragonborn followed in close behind them. The rest of the party, held back.
The rogues flitted from shadow to shadow, oozing like black oil around the pillars. They were a smear of nothingness in the dark. Then Shay fell into a pit trap, the alarms went off, the doors slammed shut and locked and a pair of pits opened up at our feet.
I'm not entirely clear on what happened in the large room. Apparently there were lots of Gibbers and pit traps and the fighter had a merry old time finding traps by falling into them. I only arrived at the very end to cook off the last Gibber.
On my side of the door, however, things were distinctly less dangerous although certainly more disheartening. I stepped out and started assailing my door with magical fires. Thrace and the Tiefling attacked their door the old-fashioned way and were counter-attacked by the door itself (very cunning, those dwarves) and were tossed back towards the pit.
Meanwhile, Alana rushed around the corner to attack the door I was working on, made a mighty leap, and promptly fell into the pit. As she was my teammate, I felt that I probably should assist her in some way so I sent another blast at the door and then, like any sensible person might, I grabbed onto the edge of the pit, lowered myself down and then dropped the last little distance, calmly walked to the far side of the pit and prepared to give her a boost out. Despite my assistance, she completely failed. I made my own, desultory attempt to climb out and then set up to give her a boost. This time she made it out and returned the favor, reaching down to pull me out of the pit. We finally hacked our door open and rejoined our teammates on the far side where, as I said, most of our opponents had been dispatched and I simply snuffed out the last problem.
So far it has been an inauspicious beginning. I've been able to scribble down most of this while the others are recovering from the fight. The Dragonborn, in particular, took some fairly hard knocks -- almost entirely from the pit traps he stumbled into. Doubtless this will be found by some ignorant Northman savage, but should some literate soul find these notes, be sure and raise a marker for me. Upon the stone please inscribe: Here lies Adjo. Heed his warning. If you're smarter than your fellows, find some smarter fellows.
later
Tom
