The Nentir Vale was the lightly settled northernmost province of the Nerath Empire. The Empire is now a memory, something terrible happened over a century ago. Refugees who travelled from the south spoke of savage gnolls, demons, and undead destroying everything, killing everyone or making them slaves. No human currently living has a living memory of that time, only stories remain. The Nentir Vale struggled along as it could without resupply from the formerly rich lands to the south.
Then 90 years ago things got worse. The Bloodspear Orcs came boiling out of the mountains and flooded the valley, destroying many communities, some of them permanently. They were finally stopped by the dwarves of Hammerfast and the Vale had to rebuild as best it could.
The world is much different now, darker, more dangerous. Most of the world is monster-haunted wilderness. The centres of civilisation are few and far between, and the world is no longer carved up between nation-states. A few difficult and dangerous roads tenuously link neighbouring communities together, but if you stray from them you quickly find yourself immersed in goblin-infested forests, haunted barrowfields, desolate hills and marshes, and monster-haunted badlands. Anything could be waiting down that old overgrown dwarf-built road: a den of ogre marauders, a forgotten tower where a lamia awaits careless travellers, a troll’s cave, a lonely human village under the sway of a demonic cult, or a black wood where shadows and ghosts thirst for the blood of the living.
Resources are becoming scarce; the economy of the Vale has shrunk to a scale where it can’t support itself to the level it was when it was part of the Empire. Technology is being lost and must be bought or traded from Hammerfast or others.
It is a time of darkness, a time when people turn on each other in desperation. It is a time for someone to carry the light. It is a time for heroes.
DM's Note: Will be playing this with friends, there won't be room for others, sorry.
Augustin Stockmer, nephew of Baron Jonn Stockmer of Harkenwold, strode into the only inn in town - Aunt Nonnie's place. The common room was busy, as it always was at this time of an evening, perhaps even more busier than usual. People were wearily hunched over their drinks, communicating in flat monotones. Most were still dirty from their day's toil. The ambience was subdued, although sometimes there was sudden anger which could flare into a fight. Just a normal evening.
"Why are you going here again?" asked Esa, fluttering her wings to keep up with him, her brow furrowed. "You were here last night. And the night before!" The pixie flew after Augustin, watching him carefully. She was, in fact, not annoyed Augustin was going to the pub. It was where his power sometimes manifested, and that was what she was really interested in. Augustin himself was nothing special, the pixie had decided. Tall, but not remarkably tall. Pleasant face for a human, but bland by fey standards. Muscular from hard work, but not as muscular as an orc. So, just a bland human with some unusual magic that Esa was struggling to understand. And she did want to understand. Because she wanted to harness and use that power if she could.
Augustin ignored his companion. She was always chattering, asking questions, most of which he did not know how to answer. Esa had caused a sensation the first time he had entered the inn with Esa following behind. If Augustin hadn't been the nephew of the Baron of Harkenwold, he supposed they might have branded him a witch or a heretic or some kind of fey-loving traitor. Not that fey were really the enemy, but anything different was to be viewed with the utmost suspicion, according to most Harkenwolders.
Aunt Nonnie was putting beers from the local Cliffside Brewery on a tray and handing it to Miya the barmaid when she saw Augustin. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed another ale and came over, holding the ale out to the young man.
"Busy tonight," said Augustin, taking the tankard. "People come to gossip," said Nonnie, looking around innocently, as if she wasn't the biggest gossip in Harken Village. "Want to talk about the Iron Circle. What do you think your uncle the Baron will do about them?" "Nothing to do with me," said Augustin. "But I think he wants to send them on their way." "Good thing too," said the woman. "A name like Iron Circle doesn't inspire confidence. Manacles are iron circles, after all."
They talked a little more, Esa watching impatiently. This was going to be a waste of time. Maybe she'll leave the human here and go play with the fireflies, if she could find some. Not many out at this time of year. But they will increase in number over the next couple of months. Then she spied something, or someone that sparked her interest. Augustin saw him at the same time.
The.... man? was tall, broad, with piercing eyes. He held an ale in his hands, and despite there being a crowd he had plenty of space for himself and his two companions, a dwarf and.. gods, was that a shifter? They stood out from the crowd not only because they were not human - they seemed different in attitude, their body language. Almost everyone around them was dejected, dirty, projecting helplessness and hopelessness as if they were stuck in a bog with no energy to get out of it, and only their ale could help them forget. These three were different. More like Augustin, and possibly Esa.
"They arrived about an hour ago," said Nonnie, noticing his gaze. "Just passing through I hear. The dwarf is nutty as a fruitcake. I swear that's squirrel poop on his shoulders. They all arrived separately and didn't know each other. Oh bother! What now?" Nonnie bustled off to see what was the matter in the kitchen.
Augustin thought he might walk over and talk to the strange trio. He was striding over, when the ancient dwarf Old Kellar intercepted him. "Lad, I need yer help," he said. "There's been things comin' outta th' Undercroft." The Undercroft was the name for the old underground cellars and storage areas, all that remained of the ruins of a town that was once where Harken Village stood now. "How is that possible?" said Augustin? "How did they get in there, to get out? Those were cleared years ago!" "Ye think I don't know that?" said Old Kellar. He was an architect and a mason, and was responsible for the rebuilding of Harken Keep, the Baron's decade long project. "Things been coming out at night, stealing, taking, leaving tracks. We been keeping it under wraps, your Uncle an' me. But people gonna notice and.. we think they're goblins." Augustin considered. This was unlikely, like some kind of story. There were no goblins around here for many miles. But Old Kellar was one of the sanest, smartest people he knew. "What do you need?" "Well, normally we'd need delvers, but there ain't none here. Maybe them lot," he gestured at the unusual three. The tall, broad shouldered male with the white hair noticed the gesture and stared hard back. Old Kellar continued, "so why don't you go get your armour and sword that you inherited, and have a look down there for us. If it is goblins and ye can't deal with them, then come back up and we'll assemble some militia maybe. But none of them will like going down in a hole." Augustin looked again at the trio. The young man was not keen on entering a dark tunnel on his own, even though Old Kellar thought goblins weren't much of a challenge. Maybe these were delvers.
"Greetings," said Augustin, approaching the three, Esa fluttering behind before perching on his shoulder. A few people looked around and rolled their eyes as if to say "typical" of weird folk gathering together. "I am wondering if you three are delvers, if so we have a problem we could use your help with." Esa watched with interest. This was the kind of situation where Augustin's powers manifested unconsciously, when he was trying to influence someone.
DM's Note: Delvers are what people of Nentir Vale call Adventurers.
Srtyke gives the human a wary but stern look at his fancy clothes while nodding to the pixie even though he doesnt know her, being somewhat different himself he appreciates running into someone else that stands out. "If it pays and gets me away from this smelly & noisy rabble then I am in, goblins dont respect the balance" while waving his hands around at the general patrons.
Augustin looked at Old Kellar, who was beside him. "Does it pay?" "We'll pay!" said Old Kellar, nodding. "We'll pay," confirmed Augustin, turning back to the trio and nodding.
The three newcomers, the aasimar, the shifter, and the dwarf, all felt like they could trust this earnest young human.
Grimbald stands abruptly, and stares at the odd couple for an uncomfortably long time. Then, almost as if startled says "Sorry I'm meant to speak... its been awhile. I'm not sure what a delver is but I've been told to come here.... repeatedly... in my left ear. Maybe this is the reason"
Vakiel gives an indifferent shrug and returns his attention to his ale. The inn is busier than he would like but information is hard to come by our here and this seems to be a catching ground for news from the Nentir Vale and beyond.
Augustin nodded. "I'll just grab my armour and sword, Kellar if you take them to the entrance I'll see you there"
Augustin hurried back to his home, a modest house on the outskirts of the village, and pulled the truck out from under his bed. He unpacked his chainmail armour and donned it, putting the helm on his head, conscious of Esa watching him carefully. Then Augustin took the greatsword from the attic and hurried to meet the others. He ignored the curious stares of passing villagers. He knew he was wearing a veritable fortune - chainmail was rare and very expensive. The young man never actually thought he'd be wearing it in a real situation.
Old Kellar stood with the three strangers, and pointed to the stairs leading down under an uninhabited house. "They came from here," the dwarf said. "Good luck! I'll stay here to assist."
Augustin turned to the other three, Esa perched on his shoulder once more. "Please, tell me your names. I am Augustin Stockmer, native of Harken Village." He waited expectantly.
After another awkward pause, Grimbald distracted by some unattended food at another table. "Grimbald, My friends call me Grimbald, but you may call me...um.. Grimbald. IF you need a ranger, I'm your dwarf."
Esa clears her throat loudly. "I am Esa of the fey, and this is my companion, Augustin. The rest is unimportant. I take it you've decided to accompany us? It'll be dangerous, but if you feel brave enough, I'll give you a chance..."
The Nentir Vale was the lightly settled northernmost province of the Nerath Empire. The Empire is now a memory, something terrible happened over a century ago. Refugees who travelled from the south spoke of savage gnolls, demons, and undead destroying everything, killing everyone or making them slaves. No human currently living has a living memory of that time, only stories remain. The Nentir Vale struggled along as it could without resupply from the formerly rich lands to the south.
Then 90 years ago things got worse. The Bloodspear Orcs came boiling out of the mountains and flooded the valley, destroying many communities, some of them permanently. They were finally stopped by the dwarves of Hammerfast and the Vale had to rebuild as best it could.
The world is much different now, darker, more dangerous. Most of the world is monster-haunted wilderness. The centres of civilisation are few and far between, and the world is no longer carved up between nation-states. A few difficult and dangerous roads tenuously link neighbouring communities together, but if you stray from them you quickly find yourself immersed in goblin-infested forests, haunted barrowfields, desolate hills and marshes, and monster-haunted badlands. Anything could be waiting down that old overgrown dwarf-built road: a den of ogre marauders, a forgotten tower where a lamia awaits careless travellers, a troll’s cave, a lonely human village under the sway of a demonic cult, or a black wood where shadows and ghosts thirst for the blood of the living.
Resources are becoming scarce; the economy of the Vale has shrunk to a scale where it can’t support itself to the level it was when it was part of the Empire. Technology is being lost and must be bought or traded from Hammerfast or others.
It is a time of darkness, a time when people turn on each other in desperation. It is a time for someone to carry the light. It is a time for heroes.
DM's Note: Will be playing this with friends, there won't be room for others, sorry.
thinking a gnome druid but happy to go with something else if anyone else had similar as an idea
A darker, grittier game theme, very old school. love it with the house rules
23rd Day of Highsummer
Augustin Stockmer, nephew of Baron Jonn Stockmer of Harkenwold, strode into the only inn in town - Aunt Nonnie's place. The common room was busy, as it always was at this time of an evening, perhaps even more busier than usual. People were wearily hunched over their drinks, communicating in flat monotones. Most were still dirty from their day's toil. The ambience was subdued, although sometimes there was sudden anger which could flare into a fight. Just a normal evening.
"Why are you going here again?" asked Esa, fluttering her wings to keep up with him, her brow furrowed. "You were here last night. And the night before!" The pixie flew after Augustin, watching him carefully. She was, in fact, not annoyed Augustin was going to the pub. It was where his power sometimes manifested, and that was what she was really interested in. Augustin himself was nothing special, the pixie had decided. Tall, but not remarkably tall. Pleasant face for a human, but bland by fey standards. Muscular from hard work, but not as muscular as an orc. So, just a bland human with some unusual magic that Esa was struggling to understand. And she did want to understand. Because she wanted to harness and use that power if she could.
Augustin ignored his companion. She was always chattering, asking questions, most of which he did not know how to answer. Esa had caused a sensation the first time he had entered the inn with Esa following behind. If Augustin hadn't been the nephew of the Baron of Harkenwold, he supposed they might have branded him a witch or a heretic or some kind of fey-loving traitor. Not that fey were really the enemy, but anything different was to be viewed with the utmost suspicion, according to most Harkenwolders.
Aunt Nonnie was putting beers from the local Cliffside Brewery on a tray and handing it to Miya the barmaid when she saw Augustin. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed another ale and came over, holding the ale out to the young man.
"Busy tonight," said Augustin, taking the tankard.
"People come to gossip," said Nonnie, looking around innocently, as if she wasn't the biggest gossip in Harken Village. "Want to talk about the Iron Circle. What do you think your uncle the Baron will do about them?"
"Nothing to do with me," said Augustin. "But I think he wants to send them on their way."
"Good thing too," said the woman. "A name like Iron Circle doesn't inspire confidence. Manacles are iron circles, after all."
They talked a little more, Esa watching impatiently. This was going to be a waste of time. Maybe she'll leave the human here and go play with the fireflies, if she could find some. Not many out at this time of year. But they will increase in number over the next couple of months. Then she spied something, or someone that sparked her interest. Augustin saw him at the same time.
The.... man? was tall, broad, with piercing eyes. He held an ale in his hands, and despite there being a crowd he had plenty of space for himself and his two companions, a dwarf and.. gods, was that a shifter? They stood out from the crowd not only because they were not human - they seemed different in attitude, their body language. Almost everyone around them was dejected, dirty, projecting helplessness and hopelessness as if they were stuck in a bog with no energy to get out of it, and only their ale could help them forget. These three were different. More like Augustin, and possibly Esa.
"They arrived about an hour ago," said Nonnie, noticing his gaze. "Just passing through I hear. The dwarf is nutty as a fruitcake. I swear that's squirrel poop on his shoulders. They all arrived separately and didn't know each other. Oh bother! What now?" Nonnie bustled off to see what was the matter in the kitchen.
Augustin thought he might walk over and talk to the strange trio. He was striding over, when the ancient dwarf Old Kellar intercepted him.
"Lad, I need yer help," he said. "There's been things comin' outta th' Undercroft." The Undercroft was the name for the old underground cellars and storage areas, all that remained of the ruins of a town that was once where Harken Village stood now.
"How is that possible?" said Augustin? "How did they get in there, to get out? Those were cleared years ago!"
"Ye think I don't know that?" said Old Kellar. He was an architect and a mason, and was responsible for the rebuilding of Harken Keep, the Baron's decade long project.
"Things been coming out at night, stealing, taking, leaving tracks. We been keeping it under wraps, your Uncle an' me. But people gonna notice and.. we think they're goblins."
Augustin considered. This was unlikely, like some kind of story. There were no goblins around here for many miles. But Old Kellar was one of the sanest, smartest people he knew.
"What do you need?"
"Well, normally we'd need delvers, but there ain't none here. Maybe them lot," he gestured at the unusual three. The tall, broad shouldered male with the white hair noticed the gesture and stared hard back.
Old Kellar continued, "so why don't you go get your armour and sword that you inherited, and have a look down there for us. If it is goblins and ye can't deal with them, then come back up and we'll assemble some militia maybe. But none of them will like going down in a hole."
Augustin looked again at the trio. The young man was not keen on entering a dark tunnel on his own, even though Old Kellar thought goblins weren't much of a challenge. Maybe these were delvers.
"Greetings," said Augustin, approaching the three, Esa fluttering behind before perching on his shoulder. A few people looked around and rolled their eyes as if to say "typical" of weird folk gathering together. "I am wondering if you three are delvers, if so we have a problem we could use your help with."
Esa watched with interest. This was the kind of situation where Augustin's powers manifested unconsciously, when he was trying to influence someone.
DM's Note: Delvers are what people of Nentir Vale call Adventurers.
Srtyke gives the human a wary but stern look at his fancy clothes while nodding to the pixie even though he doesnt know her, being somewhat different himself he appreciates running into someone else that stands out. "If it pays and gets me away from this smelly & noisy rabble then I am in, goblins dont respect the balance" while waving his hands around at the general patrons.
Augustin looked at Old Kellar, who was beside him.
"Does it pay?"
"We'll pay!" said Old Kellar, nodding.
"We'll pay," confirmed Augustin, turning back to the trio and nodding.
The three newcomers, the aasimar, the shifter, and the dwarf, all felt like they could trust this earnest young human.
Esa scribbled furiously on her etheral note pad.
Grimbald stands abruptly, and stares at the odd couple for an uncomfortably long time. Then, almost as if startled says "Sorry I'm meant to speak... its been awhile. I'm not sure what a delver is but I've been told to come here.... repeatedly... in my left ear. Maybe this is the reason"
Vakiel gives an indifferent shrug and returns his attention to his ale. The inn is busier than he would like but information is hard to come by our here and this seems to be a catching ground for news from the Nentir Vale and beyond.
Grimbald drinks half his ale, the other he pours into a waterskin, one of several on his belt, holding together his hide armour.
Augustin nodded.
"I'll just grab my armour and sword, Kellar if you take them to the entrance I'll see you there"
Augustin hurried back to his home, a modest house on the outskirts of the village, and pulled the truck out from under his bed. He unpacked his chainmail armour and donned it, putting the helm on his head, conscious of Esa watching him carefully. Then Augustin took the greatsword from the attic and hurried to meet the others. He ignored the curious stares of passing villagers. He knew he was wearing a veritable fortune - chainmail was rare and very expensive. The young man never actually thought he'd be wearing it in a real situation.
Old Kellar stood with the three strangers, and pointed to the stairs leading down under an uninhabited house.
"They came from here," the dwarf said. "Good luck! I'll stay here to assist."
Augustin turned to the other three, Esa perched on his shoulder once more.
"Please, tell me your names. I am Augustin Stockmer, native of Harken Village."
He waited expectantly.
After another awkward pause, Grimbald distracted by some unattended food at another table. "Grimbald, My friends call me Grimbald, but you may call me...um.. Grimbald. IF you need a ranger, I'm your dwarf."
At the back of the group Vakiel stands arms crossed.
"Vakiel"
"I am Stryke, may you keep the balance in all things" said with a nod
Esa whispers snidely into Augustin's ear, "Don't seem too bright. For once, you might be the smartest one in the room. Well, second smartest..."
Perception check, did I hear that?
Roll a perception check then, but with disadvantage because it was meant for you NOT to hear it.
You can do all the dice rolls on here. :)
Esa clears her throat loudly. "I am Esa of the fey, and this is my companion, Augustin. The rest is unimportant. I take it you've decided to accompany us? It'll be dangerous, but if you feel brave enough, I'll give you a chance..."
17 test roll
The stairs are old and dirty, they lead down into darkness. The sky is dark now, with a half moon giving some light to see by outside.
Marching order?
Anyone using a torch or other light source?
You can go down the stairs two abreast, the corridor is wide enough.