Troghob the half-orc cleric

So, the current campaign is being cryogenically frozen for a short period while we switch to a campaign penned by Nigel. That will start this week. I'm not actually sure if I'll be keeping a record of it since that activity was partly a task I assigned myself as DM. We'll see, but I DID think it would be cool to post the bio I wrote up for the character I'll be playing.

It's, maybe, a little cliche for a half-orc, but I tried to make things interesting by making him a patron of St. Cuthbert. Anyway, I've never played as or with a half-orc in any game, so gimme a break. The bio's a little ham-handed, or heavy-handed, or both, but it was fun to write up and I think it turned out okay.

The pillaging and raping of orcish warbands upon human settlements is not unheard of, but truly uncommon is the human woman who survives to bear a child of such an encounter. Such was Elmma, who found herself the mother of a half-orc baby boy. Soon after the birth, the father, a barbaric warrior named Trogh, returned to claim his stake, hauling off the mother and child to his tribe -- to her dismay and, honestly, the relief of Elmma's village.

The child was named Troghob in honor of his father and welcomed into the tribe as one of their own. As he grew, he engaged in orcish brawls and their typical sadomasochistic traditions. Though the boy was not as strong as the true orcs of his age, he showed strong comprehension and perceptions well beyond the mentality of a normal child, never mind of a common orc. Despite his lack of strength compared to his compatriots he would usually defeat any challenger through a mix of brute force and superior cunning. This fact, along with a display of leadership qualities in his character, paved the way towards a future as a great chief among the orcs.

This alarmed Elmma. The mother had lived these years as a slave to Trogh, who despite everything was not unkind to her and allowed her to have a say in the raising of his child -- perhaps he realized her human advice was what allowed Troghob to excel as quickly as he did. But Elmma had given this advice to protect her son, to keep him alive in the brutal world of orc culture. She had not expected him to become a leader, to make the evil tribe a stronger, more powerful force. Finally the shoe dropped: Troghob led his first raid, upon his mother's settlement no less. He returned gleefully to Elmma, proudly displaying to her his trophy -- the disembodied head of the human village chief.

Horrified, Elmma immediately initiated a plot to escape. As the bright afternoon sun bore its wretched light, so despised by the orcs, upon their camp, she managed to murder Trogh and sedate Troghob. She stole a pair of horses and bound Troghob to one, then rode as fast as she could as far as she could.

They had traveled many miles by the time Troghob woke. The boy roared and thrashed in his bonds, but Elmma had used strong rope to ensure that he could not escape. She came to his side and soon Troghob's rage-filled shouts had quieted as the emotion of his mother's sobs overtook him. She had explained the concept of good and evil to her son many times, and he was familiar with the lecture but had ignored it up to this point. Now, somehow, his gift of perception had finally allowed him to empathize with Elmma's message.

Elmma had kept the bestial nature of her son at bay, but she knew she had not tamed it. She decided only a greater power might perform the task and brought Troghob to a church of St. Cuthbert. Though the half-orc's appearance and nature might have dissuaded other organizations, the Chapeaux of this church were intent on converting as many as possible to the will of Cuthbert. They took the task on as a challenge. Thus the half-orc's re-education began under the watchful eye of his mother.

The teachings of the priests were about as far from the barbaric lifestyle of the orcs as possible and Troghob did not have an easy time adjusting. Other than his teachers, the clergy shunned him. He was unused to discipline and fits of violent rage were usually the punctuation of any seminar he attended. Nevertheless, he found himself intrigued by the nature of St. Cuthbert's teachings: the deity's uncompromising, vengeful character was very orcish in a way, but balanced by a high value of common sense, wisdom, and the pursuit of knowledge. Though intolerant of most of his colleagues at the church, Troghob believed he had found a like mind and ally in St. Cuthbert. His outbursts grew more infrequent and he gradually accepted the role of a quiet loner, trusting in only his mother and a few good teachers and friends.

By the time he was sixteen, Elmma believed the beast within her son had been tamed. It was around this time that raids by the savage races on the frontier settlements began to escalate. Able-bodied men were called on to assist in the protection of the lands, and the Chapeaux agreed to provide paladins and clerics in the fight. For Troghob, now a minor cleric, the opportunity was a no-brainer: despite his re-education, the lust for combat was in his blood, and anything was better than rotting away in the church.

Of course, there was also the possibility that he might encounter orcs again, perhaps even his old tribe, but the half-orc looked forward to meeting his former brethren on the battlefield. Secretly, he yearned to return to that way of life, curious how he would find it now, with all that he'd learned under St. Cuthbert. But it was his devotion to the deity that kept him on the human side of the fight. And he fought well -- he played a major part in several battles along the frontier, equally apt at offense as defense, cleaving his way through the evil hordes and magically healing his fellow soldiers. His understanding of orc tactics made him a core advisor to captains and generals, but few publically acknowledged his help. His presence among the humans, therefore, had a mixed effect: though his (often successful) efforts to win the fights garnered a number of empathizers and personal friends among both ground troops and officers, the majority of his "comrades" could not overcome their prejudice against his ethnicity. At the best of times he was treated as someone with an embarrassing disability; mostly he was simply ignored as an outcast; and then there were the "accidents" -- friendly fire on the battlefield because fellows supposedly couldn't tell him apart from the enemy, personal attacks and brawls in the camps reported as "initiated by the orc's savage temper," etc. -- usually resolved by a minor reprimand for all parties involved.

Ultimately, it was too much. The only thing tying Troghob to the humans was his loyalty to St. Cuthbert and he wasn't sure they deserved the deity's protection. He decided, therefore, to seek out and rejoin his old tribe and attempt to introduce them to the teachings of Cuthbert. This prospect excited him -- perhaps, if he could convert the orcs into a lawful, sensible society worthy of St. Cuthbert's attention, orc and human culture would somehow merge. The more he considered this, the more he was excited, and he became convinced that this was his life's work.

The orcs were surprisingly acceptant of him -- he had become known as a fearful enemy, but this itself was enough to impress the tribe. The half-orc understood this and knew that for his teachings to be heard, he'd have to adapt them to offer something that orcs would desire. So, he promised the things that the creatures loved: victory, glory, riches, all in the name of St. Cuthbert. He formed a convent from the tribe's most intelligent individuals, a convent that effectively became a military committee. Troghob knew that the best example he could give orcs of Cuthbert's teachings in action was their favorite pastime: war.

So, for a time, he fought on the other side of the same war, just as effectively slaughtering his former human allies as he had once slaughtered former orc allies. This, he felt, was a necessary evil for a greater good. If he could convert the orcs, then they might learn to understand the human perspective that his mother had taught him.

But as he grew older and spent more time with the orcs he realized his effort had been doomed from the start. Yes, the orcs operated better in battle under his command, with wisdom, organization, and strategy guiding their attacks, but they had learned nothing; eliminate his leadership from the equation and they were again little more than savages. And the result of the victories hadn't changed. Prisoners and innocents were thoughtlessly slaughtered, land and crops taken were desecrated without consideration of future use, and there was constant in-fighting. Climbing the ranks in orcish tradition was, after all, a matter of killing your superior and claiming his position. Despite the fact that he was the sole reason for their good fortune in battle, Troghob's authority was constantly challenged so that he had to deflect hidden assassins and legitimate challengers on almost a weekly basis.

One particularly intelligent member of the convent, Grooku, was smart enough to realize that such base attempts to claim Troghob's position were experiments in failure. Instead, he secretly launched a smear campaign, claiming the half-orc's human blood was a weakness that would ultimately drive the orcs to ruin. For a month these rumors grew and prospered among the tribe and encouraged more would-be challengers and assassins then ever. Life in the tribe had become a nightmare for Troghob.

Finally the stew came to a boil. Troghob led yet another raid to victory on the human settlements, but the spoils of war included a tragic surprise. Elmma had traveled to the settlements in search of her son and had been trapped in the attack. Now, amongst the corpses in the streets, Troghob recognized a face.

Orcs do not have tear ducts and the water leaking from the half-orc's eyes as he fell to his knees was just the weakness that Grooku needed to play his hand. He cried out against the leader and received a cacophony of mutinous agreements.

Troghob could feel the contempt radiating from his once-followers. It mingled with his grief and flowed with hatred for Grooku and his evil talk. The negative energy running through his mind and body ebbed violently against his resolve and ate away at his sensibility. He could felt nothing but anger. His conscious mind slipped away and he fell into a bloodrage.

He awoke an indeterminable amount of time later at an unknown location remembering nothing of the bloodrage, but none of these details mattered. For weeks he wandered the wilderness, surviving like an animal, carrying only shredded clothes and the holy symbol of St. Cuthbert. One day found him close to starvation. He came across a quiet hamlet and was desperate enough to beg its residents for food at the risk of being killed on sight as an orc. To his good fortune, the villagers, mostly halflings and humans, opened their doors to him -- a half-elf named Sharon particularly taking pity on him. She invited him into her home and insisted he remain until he returned to good health.

St. Cuthbert demanded that a good deed deserved another in exchange. As Troghob's strength returned, he began to assist Sharon in the fields. There he mingled with the other villagers, and found himself quickly accepted. This was a new situation for him: humans and like races has always shunned him, while among orcs he was never anything less than a leader. His life had always been full of battle and antagonism; now, in this quiet sanctuary, he felt at peace.

It would not last long. His orcish blood continually longed for battle, so a peaceful life could not be his destiny. The itch now plagued him and he began to go on long treks into the wild, hunting ferocious predators to battle. This behavior worried even the carefree villagers, though they were too polite to say anything of it. Then, Troghob returned from one such trip to find a crowd outside Sharon's door and the half-elf bleeding heavily into the sheets of her bed.

There had been an accident in the field. She was injured beyond the care of conventional medicine. Troghob had been trained as a cleric. There was only one thing to do. The half-orc raised his holy symbol, uttering a prayer to the saint, and placed a healing hand upon the woman's wound. But as the cure spell formed, Troghob realized that something was very wrong. Before he could react, dark energy crackled out along Sharon's body from his contact point and the half-elf screamed in high-pitched agony. Even as he broke contact and stepped away she writhed as if experiencing uncontrollable pain. This went on for several seconds, enough time to gather the onlookers, before Sharon slumped lifeless into the mattress.

Perhaps the villagers would not have attacked Troghob or run him out of town. Perhaps they would have understood that he had no control over what had transpired. Perhaps, with time, he would have been forgiven. But Troghob would never know, for as the onlookers gaped silently in horror at their fallen neighbor, the half-orc was already dashing out of the hamlet. A peaceful life could not be his destiny. He understood exactly what had happened. He had used the name of his deity to lead a campaign of evil, to kill innocents, to destroy order, and now St. Cuthbert had taken his revenge. The half-orc would no longer be allowed to use his divine magic to help or heal, only to hurt and destroy.

Troghob understood now that he could not live in either society, man's nor orc's. He was a man, he was an orc, yet he was neither; as true an outcast as it was possible to be.

He became a wanderer, and then an adventurer, living on the fringes of civilization. Eventually, St. Cuthbert returned some of his healing abilities -- if he prayed specifically for such magic at the beginning of a day he sometimes received it in limited amounts. But whenever he performed an evil act or considered chaotic thoughts, the deity transformed the healing powers into harmful ones. And so Troghob's life became, or perhaps it had always been, a delicate balance between extremes -- good and evil, law and chaos, man and orc.

Lucky Week Slevin

At the sound of the orc attacking Lucky, Auren dashed into the room, bowling over Eddi as the cleric tried to hold him back, insisting that the Beardians should stick to their plan. The monk ignored him and found his way through the back of the room to flank the offending orc. With their cover blown, the Beardians piled into the room, picking out the third of the orcs Lucky had spotted standing on a ledge. The flanked orc tried one last time, and failed, to land a blow on Lucky before sliding down one of the mining chutes to the ground. But, Auren was right on his tail and lashed out with his feet of fury, taking the orc's head in the process. The last orc, surrounded but undaunted, was still easily disposed of.

Some of the Beardians eyed this orc's gear -- the party was not above robbing corpses. A pair of longbows was dispersed between Andy the anonymous druid and Eddi, who handed-me-down his shortbow to Lucky. Eddi also traded in his breezy, summery, and very in-fashion chain shirt for one of the orcs' breastplates, one with intricately detailed abs, perhaps with the hope of future closet encounters.

The room was a dead end. As the party gathered to turn back, a small solitary platform caught the eye of K'Phalivus. He asked Lucky to investigate it, assuming that, as a rogue, she would have a high Search score. Lucky, enforcing stereotypes, discovered a secret door, only by running her fingers across the wall and finding the hidden door-frame. She cautiously opened it, discovering a passage large enough for the party to travel through single file. The passage ran a long way through darkness and after many tense minutes of expecting various horrors to snatch her away, Lucky reached its end, which opened up into a small corridor. To her left was a sturdy stone door, so resolute in its dooriness that the rogue doubted even her lock-picking skills could open it. To her right, the corridor opened into a room, and in that room was, surprise, a pair of orcs. Emboldened by the rest of the Beardians coming up behind her, the halfling launched a javelin at the first enemy and proceeded to scurry in the opposite direction fast as her little legs could take her. The rest of the party took over and as the first orc quickly gave up the ghost, the second dashed off into the darkness ahead even faster than Lucky had.

The Beardians strained into the room, another work area of the mine, and were instantly dazzled by what they saw. There, right there, where they could so easily just reach out and grab a handful and stuff it in their bags, was a big old pile of gold. Impressively, the first word to be emitted from a party member was, Trap. Lucky again became the most important member of the party, but, strangely, didn't find any hint of threatening devices. The Beardians exchanged glances, then dug in.

Buried beneath the coins was a wand, a scroll, and a potion. Eddi and Chauncey the anonymous wizard, the group's chief magic-users, managed to decipher the scroll and the markings on the wand: the scroll contained a divine spell, Faerie Fire, and the wand could cast the spell Levitate and had 31 charges left! The potion remained a mystery, until Eddi shrugged, decreed, "Bottom's up!" and gulped everything in the vial. He promptly vanished and the potion was discovered to be an invisibility potion, all thanks to the scientific method. God bless science!

Meanwhile, Lucky was, once again, scouting ahead. The cowardly orc had fled down another narrow mineshaft and, strangely, there was light emanating from the end of it. She peeked into the room at the end and saw a scene not unlike that which Charles Dickens must have envisioned when Scrooge met the enormous Ghost of Christmas Present in his living room ... only replace living room with dwarven forge and the Ghost of Christmas Present with an ogre mage staring right into Lucky's eyes. The ogre chuckled as the halfling skirted away and bellowed at his orcish lackeys to follow her.

Back in the mineshaft, Lucky ducked behind Auren, who leaped Bruce Lee-style at the nearest orc. As the monk played meatshield, the Beardians scrambled about behind him, tossing whatever they could at the monsters, who appeared to nonetheless keep coming. Finally the orcs fell and the party collectively breathed a sigh of relief -- too soon, as another orc, this one in garnished robes (garnished for an orc, at least) stepped into the mineshaft and, chanting weirdly, placed a gemstone in each of his allies' corpses. The corpses stood up.

Auren had been waiting for this. He had been waiting a long time. As his fists thudded into undead flesh he reflected on his life up to this point and decided, that yes, his singular earthly calling was to beat up zombies. Nonetheless, the creatures were quickly overpowering him and the rest of the Beardians urged him to back up into the open room where they were waiting. The zombies shambled after and found themselves surrounded and, very soon, utterly destroyed. As a zombie head groaned its last request for braaaaiiins, the invisible Eddi crept silently down the mineshaft until he could see the forge. The orc necromancer was not to be seen, but this was not unexpected -- he was probably ducking behind one of the room's many hiding places. What was strange was the disappearance of the giant ogre mage! The ogre was large, yes, and not just that -- he was... blue! Blue is a rather easy color to spot. Still, Eddi characteristically threw caution to the wind, and barreled as fast as he could into the room. In the instant he left the mineshaft, something blinked into existence to his left -- a blue form levered a sword twice the size of the cleric where he'd been a split-second before. Then, as quickly as the ogre mage had appeared, he was gone. Eddi cursed his blessing -- the invisibility spell that now protected him was also in the mage's use.

The others, having seen the little magic show, advanced technically. Technically, because none of them really wanted to be in the same room as a giant invisible mage: the group as a whole was technically advancing, while each member sought to be the farthest from the end of the passage. The advance, therefore, was by means of a slowly elongating huddle. (To quote Terry Pratchett.) Finally, Andy got up the nerves to charge into the room, where he found the necromancer chanting weirdly again. The druid's limbs began to stiffen and he realized the orc had cast a paralyzation spell on him. As he yearned for the safety of the mineshaft, he watched the ogre mage appear again and cast a devastating ice attack down the mineshaft, doing major damage to the trapped occupants. Perhaps paralyzation wasn't so bad.

As the necromancer had launched his assault, Eddi had finally un-vanished behind him. The cleric levered his greatsword and then, before the orc could react, reached out with a hand buzzing electrically with dark energy. The Inflict Wounds spell was so powerful that the orc's body instinctively decided that exploding apart would be less painful. It wasn't, but by that time it was too late. Flesh scattered across the room.

The death of his final guard seemed to dishearten the ogre mage. He sneered at the Beardians and stepped away. The party watched as the mage's feet, then legs, then torso and head transformed into ogre-shaped vapor. The ogre-cloud flew through the room and entered a large furnace -- the centerpiece of the forge. He disappeared from sight.

The Beardians had, in vague terms, won the battle. But their mission to assassinate the ogre mage was yet uncompleted and the many intense battles of the last two hours had exhausted them. With Andy a living statue, Lucky badly frostbitten by the ice spell, both magic-users short on spells, and general orcish axe-induced injuries all around, the party wondered morbidly if they would survive the trip back to the surface...

Week VI: The Undiscovered Country

With the orc guards behind them and a sea of corpses, or at least a shallow lake, at their feet, the party recollected themselves. It occurred to the narrator that it would be so much easier if the party had a group name to refer to them by, like The Orc-Slayers, The Happenstancers, or the Bill Beardians. Yeah, actually, from now on the narrator will refer to a party member as a Beardian, for clarity's sake.

So, the Beardians were standing around healing each other, right? Then they got bored and began to actually explore the dungeon, which, in the Beardian frame of mind, was apparently best performed by rushing headlong into pitch black darkness. Luckily, orcs didn't seem to be the best trap-setters and much ground was covered in a short time. The decrepit ruins of the dwarven mine were, in fact, ruined, with cave-ins and chunks of fire-damaged debris scattered about, suggesting some sort of disaster that must have occurred some time ago. The passages leading east to -- according to Elder Wilhelm's map -- the cafeteria and brewery were discovered. Lucky, exploring the old dorms to the south, found a spare dagger hidden in a dwarven bunk-bed (the bed being somewhat novel, since the second bunk was beneath the ground-level one -- classic dwarven thinking). Andy the anonymous druid explored the former bakery, finding a large cave-in cutting off a part of the chamber. From the other side he could make out voices, but they were too muffled to make out traces of words or language. He also discovered a large oven with a hole leading out from the back, large enough for a small creature to squeeze through. He began to send his anonymous eagle in to explore -- the bird could only make out darkness from as far as it went.

Some of the Beardians were strangely drawn to a closet down a western passage: Eddi went in first, then as K'Phalvius followed the only sound heard was Eddi saying something about seven minutes in heaven before the cleric locked the closet door from the inside.

Meanwhile, Chauncey the anonymous wizard, who'd appeared inexplicably for no apparent reason and had been immediately accepted as a Beardian, cautiously felt her way through the darkness of the western passage, past the closet holding the cleric and ranger, from which strange sounds were emanating. She stopped as she reached an opening of the passage, unable to see any further. K'Phalvius' wolf, also yet unnamed, held no such qualms and barreled right past her. As the wolf reached the opening, he managed to get a good view of the passage and telepathically transmitted the information to K'Phalvius': the canine stood in the middle of an intersection, with the passage continuing westward, and a second passage leading north and south. Oh, and there was an orc ambush waiting for some unfortunate quadruped to turn the corner so they could stab him full of holes. They did.

The wolf's vision suddenly went blank in K'Phalvius' mind. The death of his animal companion must have only worsened whatever horrifying situation he and Eddi were in in that closet and he came crashing out the door. Alerted to the threat, the Beardians quickly took formation: they all scrambled into the tiny corridor, stepping over each other and wrestling to see who could get the first hit on the orcs. Auren won and, surrounded by three orcs with no way of retreating in the cramped conditions, was promptly beaten into a bloody pulp. Seeing this, the Beardians realized just how stupid they were being and backed off: Eddi and Lucky hid in the closet (with no time for hanky-panky) and K'Phalvius and Chauncey retreated out of the orcs' reach, with Andy valiantly guarding them.

As the battle raged down the corridor, Lucky readied her blade to sneak attack any orc who passed the closet. Beside her, Eddi considered the thought of breaking through a five-foot-thick wall to flank the orcs. Deciding to attempt the incredible act, he prepared his daily feat of strength, a divine favor bestowed upon him by Kord the god of strength himself. The burly cleric bundled his hefty muscles and threw himself like a cannonball against the brick wall, bouncing off to the floor and severely dislocating his shoulder. Lucky laughed.

The heroes of the battle turned out to be K'Phalvius and the mysterious wizardly newcomer. The ranger's arrows flew true to their mark, that mark between an orc's two ears. Chauncey decidedly impressed everyone by shooting out numerous magic missiles to antagonize the orcs, then barbecuing them with a huge lightening bolt spell. The single surviving orc flew into a blood rage and hurled himself down the corridor ... right into the waiting dagger of Lucky.

With the battle won, Eddi reluctantly used his best healing spell on Auren. The Beardians began to whine that they needed to sleep for the day, even though they'd only been exploring and fighting for about a half an hour and it was still bright morning outside the dungeon. At this point, they all experienced a sudden miracle as God spoke unto them thus: "SUCK IT UP." And so, they pressed on down the western passage, more cautiously now.

The passages were lined with rails, apparently for the use of mine carts, and many ways were blocked off by cave-ins. The party shortly found a large cavern which appeared to be one of the vital work areas of the mine. Lucky agreed to scout it out and carefully sneaked through the darkness. After a few minutes of sneakiness, she reported back: the cavern was filled with mining equipment and stairs and ledges. Chutes lead down from these ledges to the decrepit mine carts and rails below. There were at least three orcs with the higher ground.

Finally realizing that rushing headlong into a battle isn't always the best plan, the Beardians worked out a simple strategy and put it into action. Chauncey cast a magic light to distract the enemies while Lucky sneaked back into the cave to sneak-attack the closest orc. The halfing skirted beneath the ledge holding the unknowing monster and crawled carefully up a chute behind him. Just as she began to bring her blade down on his back, a second orc appeared from the darkness and, springing into action against Lucky, shouted a warning. The cavalry was too late -- as one movement, Lucky danced about the second orc's thrust and found her mark on her target, who collapsed, KO'd, to the ground.

Then the game ended and everyone went home. To be continued.

Cinco de D&D Week-yo

Having defeated the orcs in the apparently deserted town of Byron Valley, the party was approached by the goblins who assisted in the fight. They took you to see their leader, a hobgoblin called Kerrec, who explained the situation. The goblin tribe had been cast out of the Maurick Mountains after a devastating war with the local dwarves. They were forced east to search for a new home in the Mossdeep woods and planned a simple raid on Byron Valley -- unfortunately, an orc party just happened to launch a raid on the village simultaneously and a war broke out between the two groups with the humans of the village stuck in the midst.

Here, Kerrec offered you a proposal. The village is a warzone and your party has little chance of reaching the road on the other side of town without heavy casualty. The goblins are badly losing the fight, so Kerrec offered to abandon the village and spare the humans if your party helped defeat the orcs. He allowed you safe passage to the village church, where the humans had established their last defense. There you encountered the village leaders, Elder Wilhelm and Sheriff Ramshackle. Since the villagers are patrons of St. Cuthbert, Auren, a monk under the deity, was welcomed and immediately found trustworthy by Wilhelm. Ramshackle is suspicious of all outsiders, a custom among the isolationist villagers of the valley, and did not approve of the goblin bargain, but Wilhelm, as the voice of the village, agreed to it.

Kerrec's plan is thus: Your party will infiltrate the orcs' lair, an abandoned dwarven mine east of the village, and attempt to assassinate their leader, an ogre mage. This unusually intelligent ogre had been spotting and disabling the goblins' traps, which is their specialty in war, and sending orc shock troops to decimate the goblins in combat. Without him, the majority of the orcs would fall to the goblins' guerrilla tactics. Eddi piped up, asking what spells the mage may use and Kerrec, drawing on field experience, replied that the ogre could fly and cast frost spells.

Bill Beard unhappily agreed to stay in the church and take care of Eddi's owlbear chickcubs (who had awoken and angrily tore into the orcflesh Eddi offered them) as well as watch K'Phalvius' asses.

(At some point around here it was revealed that Eddi is a eunuch, but I digress.)

Equipped with a map of the mines that Wilhelm quickly drew up, the party reached the entrance to the orc base without incident and cautiously advanced down a long tunnel until reaching a set of stairs and statue of a dwarf that indicated this was the place. You then cautiously advanced down the stairs, until Eddi slipped and fell down the steps, emitting a echoing clatter of equipment. At the bottom, he found himself at the base of a great stone door. Opening the door revealed two orc guards who the party managed to eliminate quickly enough. Hidden in the shadows, however, was a third orc, who ran from the room hollering for help. The party rushed to follow him out into a dark hallway. Visibility was low and it took a moment to find the offending orc in the darkness. By the time he'd been slain it was too late: his call had alerted the troops and the party was surrounded by five orc barbarians. These hulking warriors bellowed war-cries and rushed the party in a rage, nearly killing K'Phalvius' wolf companion. The party fought valiantly in the cramped and dark quarters: K'Phalvius' arrows flew keenly through the melee; Lucky bounced along, ducking from danger and hurling a javelin at any estranged enemies; Eddi's sword, alighted by a spell, cast a red glow across the hall as it was stained with orcish blood; Andy the anonymous druid and Eagle the anonymous eagle became as one anonymous killing machine of scimitars, talons, and feathers; and Auren deftly balanced a torch in his hand as he rained kicks and punches upon his foes... but never once succeeded in performing a Stunning Fist.

Soon, where the barbarians had been there were only corpses and the party, wearied by the brawl but encouraged by victory, were ready to move on.

Week IV

After nearly getting slaughtered by those owlbears, everyone managed to recover fairly quickly thanks to a sudden unexplainable increase in health and strength. Eddi the cleric healed the bulk of the party's wounds with his remaining daily spells and everyone managed to regain full health with a good night's sleep. To the relief of all, they weren't ambushed at night by more owlbears. In the morning, Andy the anonymous druid mentioned the prospect of an owlbear cave where there might be owlbear loot left unguarded. K'Phalvius' superb tracking skills lead them straight to the lair, where they found four recently deceased owlbear chickcubs, either starved or frozen to death without their parents to care for them. However! Huddling beneath their dead siblings for warmth were two living chickcubs. Knowing that owlbears fetch a hefty price as guard animals, the party opted to capture them. Eddi managed to talk Auren the monk into using his unarmed attacks to knock one unconscious. The cleric himself attempted to knock out the second, and not without taking a beak to the face a couple of times. As Eddi tied up the chickcubs and fashioned a sled to drag them along with, Andy or K'Phalvius, I forget which, searched the cave for other valuables. Amongst the remains of chickcub feasts he found the corpse of a traveling wizard, a fact garnered from the man's travel log. Upon this corpse was a spell scroll for casting the arcane spell mage armor. The diary explained that the wizard made a living by traveling from a southern town to the northern city of Burlingham (Bill Beard and the party's ultimate destination) and selling his spell scrolls there. He left a wife in his hometown and upon hearing this Auren decided that he would take any reasonable opportunity to inform the wife of her husband's death.

Finally, the party was ready to move on. They continued their journey north to Burlingham. After an hour's walk slash owlbear-dragging, they arrived at the path leading to the small village of Byron Valley, a hamlet nestled in the hills beneath the shadow of the Maurick Mountains. Eddi recalled the goblin map he procured earlier that marked a mysterious location west of the village. It was about 8:30am when they entered the village, a quaint place with a natural aesthetic to its sparsely dispersed buildings, obviously built from the local woodland. It was a pleasant village. A quiet village.

TOO quiet. The place appeared to be a ghost town with no sign of human life, but as they listened carefully they could hear gruff voices coming from behind a nearby structure. Auren ran forward to investigate while Andy attempted to sneak around the other side. As Auren came to a halt at the corner of the building he came face to face with an orc who had been carelessly turning the corner! The orc was so taken aback that he couldn't quite react except to yelp to his hidden comrades. The two parties rushed at each other and one of the orcs managed to wound Auren WHEN SUDDENLY the windows of the tavern across the street swung open and a group of goblin archers opened fire! Pathetically, their aim was so bad that they couldn't hit anything and no one could tell if they were shooting at the orcs or our heroes, but the distinction was made when a hobgoblin burst out of the tavern and levered his sword at one of the aghast orcs. With the help of the goblins' surprise attack, the orc party was made short work of. As the hobgoblin gutted the last of them, he turned to our heroes and belted out a single word in Common: "Hold!"

And then everybody had to go home 'cause it was just about midnight in the real world.

Week the Third

Long story short, the DM thought it'd be funny to throw some owlbears at the fledgling party. He was right.

Andy went down quick to a grotesquely powerful owlbear-hug. Auren and Brian, the party's other meatshields, followed after a brutal struggle. Lucky ran about trying to stay out of the monsters' way and keep her allies from dying while K'Phalvius finally managed to kill the ferocious beasts by firing from afar. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and apparently in the case of D&D, what brings you close enough to Death's door that you can smell the bone-white metal of the door knocker will make you gain two levels. The adventurers came away exhausted, and maybe missing some vital organs, but ultimately pleased.

Week Two: In Which Events Occur

Auren and K'Phalvius decided to follow the goblin that had run away from the battle in the first session. Lucky and Andy stayed on the road with Bill Beard to await their return. After some squabbling, Auren and K'Phalvius agreed to track the goblin to the goblin camp rather than kill him outright. They'd hoped to kill him just before his screamed warnings would reach the ears of the camp, but upon coming into visual range of the camp, it was too late. Their prey alerted the rest of the goblins seconds before K'Phalvius' arrow split his face.

The camp was located in a rocky clearing at the foothills of the Maurick Mountains and a small rock face hosting a couple of goblin archers prevented our heroes from seeing the rest of the camp. As they fought the goblins, little did they know that beyond the cliff a prisoner struggled with his bonds in a goblin tent. 'Twas the cleric, Eddi, captured offstage by the monsters. He uttered a prayer to Kord, god of strength and managed to snap his bonds and, with the goblins distracted, grab his sword. Prepared to administer vengeance, he burst out of the tent to find that Auren and K'Phalvius had already made short work of most of the monsters. Still, he wasn't about to let his vengeance go unadministered, and sliced the single remaining goblin in half.

Eddi was kind of a loner, but warily decided to join the others mostly to keep the game going. He revealed a crude map he had discovered in the goblin camp and K'Phalvius recognized it as a depiction of the village in Byron Valley (a stop along the road to Burlingham) with a strange marking drawn on the west of the village. Everybody agreed that it must be the goblin's treasure hoard -- Eddi insisted on checking it out while Auren refused, citing Bill Beard's safety as a priority. Bill piped up and expressed his interest in investigating the marking.

Anyway, since Byron Valley was on the way to the final destination of Burlingham, they decided to leave the issue unresolved until reaching the valley. On the road they were attacked by some kobolds, who Nigel described as "Doritos." The monsters never stood a chance and so the adventure continues...

Beginnings and Explanations

This is a blog recording the weekly sessions of a game of Dungeons and Dragons. Rather awkwardly, the concept of the blog was not brought up and implemented until well into six weeks of play. Therefore, these first few posts will be documenting events long-since past.

THE PLAYERS:
Adam.....K'Phalvius Hardun the half-elf ranger.
Andy.....Andy the anonymous human druid.
Brian.....Eddi the human cleric.
Chauncey.....Chauncey the anonymous elf wizard.
Nigel.....Auren the human monk.
Sarah.....Elya "Lucky" Nearhit the halfling rogue.

Brian did not join the game until the second week, and Chauncey the sixth.

WEEK ONE: The First D&D Week

Just outside the town of Tarindown, a group of adventurers headed north. These adventurers -- Auren, a monk, K'Phalvius Hardun, a ranger, Lucky, a rogue, and a nameless druid named Andy -- had come into the employ of Bill Beard, Tarindown's greatest barber. (Also, two donkeys. Technically, a donkey and a mule, belonging to K'Phalvius. They were soon to be the ass-end of many upcoming gibes.) Bill, a jolly gnome who, again, was really snazzy when it came to haircuts, required protection on the long voyage to the northern city of Burlingham, where he planned to expand his business. The contract signed read as such: our heroes were required to (1) protect Mr. Beard and (2) clear the road of potential dangers for a later caravan that would include his relatives, barbering equipment, and larger belongings. In return, each guard would be rewarded a handsome sum of 500 gold pieces.

The road to Burlingham was about three days' travel through the temperate Mossdeep Forest and the lower hills of the Maurick Mountains. The party had not long journeyed before running afoul of a band of bloodthirsty goblins waiting to ambush any unwary travelers. Andy's faithful eagle, also nameless, spotted out the enemies and Lucky's keen halfling ears picked up a bit of their conversation, making out mention of a goblin camp a short way to the west. The goblins made for a fair first encounter for the bunch of 1st-level warriors: Auren jumped into the fray fists-first; Andy the anonymous druid practiced his swordplay on the diminutive opponents; K'Phalvius, favoring the bow, shot arrow after arrow, figuring that eventually he'd hit something; and Lucky, not really knowing what to do, just kind of hung around. Inevitably, the goblins went down because really the Creator had designed them to be natural punching bags. BUT SUDDENLY, just as the final goblin was slayed a new goblin emerged from the woods from the west. Seeing his allies' blood upon the swords (and limbs) of our heroes, the little guy understandably took off like a rocket, crashing through the brush westwards, presumably to the aforementioned camp.

With a battle well-fought and the new players (most of whom had never played before) beginning to settle into their nerdy roles the very first weekly game session ended.