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D&D: A Retrospective on Last Year’s Campaign Part I

Download the full archive of documents, including maps and original writings, here.

Random selections from my notes from last year’s pen and paper adventures:

From the campaign introduction text…

Ritual binds our people together, and most importantly, our men to the chieftain. In the Symbel ritual, a great hall is filled with the members of the band, who pledge oaths to the strongman, give speeches, exchange gifts and drink from his mead horn. This marries the housemen to the chief, as a man to a descendant of Aurvandil. In this fashion the housemen of a chief are not only soldiers, or mercenaries waiting for riches, but partake in a sacred promise bound by their honor and blood. It is this sort of ritual which we now find ourselves in…

Few return from the forest, and those that do are so terrified from what they have seen that they often cannot speak. It is said that this plague of monsters, beings once thought to be only legend, is our punishment for the slaughter we inflicted upon the land.

All you remember is being woken to the sound of ethereal sirens and scratching days ago. Your mind was for a time a trap, and you were violently awoken from the warm embrace of Angantyr by this racket. After some time you were able to temper your thoughts to calm by praying to the great antlered lord, Cern. The forest is being defiled and you are roused from your sleep to preserve it.

From the first scenario…

It is the height of summer, the month of Sólmánuður, the customary time of year in which the Ascomanni take to the various rivers of the vale to war against neighbors in bloody contests; The frost of winter has thawed, and the mud that followed in spring rains has now formed solid under foot, granting an opportunity for the longships to fly.

Your company has returned to the hamlet, your home of Hakonsfjord, demoralized and battered, solemnly carrying the dead. The bodies were washed and perfumed, and the chieftan loaded onto a ship, loaded with much of the treasures of his life, his armaments and his dogs, which will follow him to the afterlife. The boat rocks to and fro, white capped surf beating her bow. A heavy mist suffocates the ground and sticks to your blades, accompanied by gusts of wet air. The sun is blotted out and reduced to a whimpering twilight, as if all the heavens lament the loss of this great man. Your people know him as a just and selfless king, who took interest in the wellbeing of every member as a father would his children. The air is silent, aside from the solitary croaking of a raven poached on the mast of the burial ship and the etheral billows of wind under the door crack. [foreshadowing!]

An homage to 13th warrior:

“I am Wulfgar, son of King Hothbrodd, lord of Hedgewick. I come to ask the son of Hygelac for help. Our kingdom is under attack, our villge destroyed, our fields spoiled and our men killed. We are attacked by an ancient evil, an terror which has no name, a terror which must not be named. Long has the house of Haakon and Theodoric been married, yet there has never been a time more dire. I come here in my fathers stead.”

[ in the middle of the glade is the dog, prostrate, whimpering, as if being crushed by something, with a barrow behind it in the shadow of the forest ]

[ oracle gets a severe headache and falls to the floor, “they are awakening, we must leave now”]

[ gast materializes, describe bloated, muscled, horrific creature, hisses and slashes the throat of Trahern, leaps and slashes the throat of Trahern, who falls to the floor twitching, a dark pool of blood pouring out and sinking into the ground as it hits it ]

[ once gast is killed, light from the canopy is blotted out by a passing clowd and leaves glade pitch black, glowing ghosts of dead, murdered norsemen appear and attack ]

[ players should retreat to ship, find wood has been collected by a few who stayed behind, “whats going on?” ]

[ ghost/zombie norsemen shuffle out of forest toward the ship, party should emergency repair it, hold off undead for 4 rounds, then escape ]

Leave it to Beaver storytelling:

[ describe various corpses littering the farmfields, mutilated, gnawed upon and slashed open, festering hay stacks, many farmhouses are burnt out or ransacked ]

From a follow-up scenario…

…awoken by the sudden splintering of boards, undead pour in a phalanx and begin to viciously stab forward with long spears…

Pip: you think the best way to find the mahir’s lair would be to follow the large wake of the army, footprints, torn down trees etc

“Don’t bother, don’t bother, I am far beyond saving. Listen, listen. This foe is no disgruntled mahir lieutenant lusting for our blood, a grudge holder from old times casually hunting in the night. He does not stir to satisfy his hate. No, no. ::cough:: I believe he is one of the nine, awoken by the passing of the Great Comet. Steel yourself my friend ::Cough:: For we’ve no king to resist this great host which is stirring now, and I go to die. Cruniac, be they ready or no, it is time… lead them to the Masoleum of Clovis, lead them…to…the…crown….”

Floating above the mound of the dead is the mahir. He lets loose a guttural cackle as he spots you and raises his hands palms inward. From behind him, a slowly moving cloud of darkness begins to engulf the grounds and blot out the sun, causing the dead to glow with a dim blue aura.

And beyond to Alesia…

You are in the main street of Alesia, a bustling bazaar where merchants come to exchange and sell wares, there are various stalls set up for hawking goods. Unsavory types lurk behind the street corners.

You hear thunderous, cracking steps from behind you. Stone is being crushed. something very large is running toward you. A massive demonic beast bursts into the room, its hateful, beady eyes swelling with rage. It raises a jagged, lightning shaped sword from over its head and appears to be swinging down upon you.

It grunts loudly and staggers toward you, swinging back with a balled massive fist. As it is about to smash into you, its fist stops. A small wisp of dust forms from behind one of the tables. and slowly moves toward you. out from it steps a dark, brooding man, with jet black hair and a face of anguish and contemplation. he is dressed in a simple black, hooded robe. his fingernails are caked with dust and his mouth has little scrapes around it. He speaks softly but with a grave tone.

“How may I help you?”

“Tell me hag, why did you try to cast a spell upon my men?”… 

“This witch attempted to slay my men, and is very well an assassin sent by Leptus to poison our water supply! We found strange lizards on her person, to which my men viewed her eating. These lizards are poisonous, and are only consumed by the venom tested blood of an assassin! Why should I not dispatch her? And you, you might very well be spies too!”

Birka and environs…

Two days by boat you near your destination. The hamlet of Birka is situated at the northern most limit of the Gold River, shrouded to the east by a deep primeval forest. The locals call it “Forestheart” and it is said to be as old as the earth.

“Well met, I am Caithim. I was once the chieftain of this hamlet, yet by old age and infirmity I gave up my post to my son Aethelwulf a decade ago. This was before Aethelred’s yoke came upon us, and now my son is pressed into his service and I am left alone as an old man to do what a young man must!”

A beautiful girl in a long white dress stands up from the assembled villagers and elegantly walks over those seated toward Angvard.

“Father, be calm. I will be the first” gives herself up to angvard.

“Gyda, no! Return to me, others can go, shes a virgin!…”

The girl continues to walk toward your party.

“For shame, no!”

Enraged 15 year old kid Eorpwald with a sword rushes Angvard.

As you follow the sound of the retreating Pukje a gold light becomes visible in the forest. As you approach it, you notice that it is light pouring from an open door in a massive oak. The vicious beasts scurry in, and then the opening in the tree seals quickly behind them, returning the area surrounding the tree to darkness.

Trapdoor at wall: Cannot be opened, bears will come out later.

“I only hoped to be able to collect enough of a fortune to buy a great dowry for the fairest of the fair. For I seek a wife. I seek Caithim’s daughter Gyda. If I offer her what her father cannot, she will love me. But you seek this gold still? Not until she is my wife. Bring me her to wed, and I will give you the coins!”

The Mausoleum of Clovis… [yes another homage, to Myth!]

“Very well, you have completed your duty to me. Conduct them with safe passage to the Mausoleum’s library. Egbert, you know Helfdane, you shall guide them. ”

Some parts of the walls are lined with shrouded corpse put into shallow outlets. Other outlets house skeletons, exposed to the open air, some still grasping their blades. Other outlets are home to stone coffins, ornately detailed with powerful protective runes. Clovis must be among these, but you know not which.

Giant monster attacks Egbert, who says “must you do this every time?”

You head south and the corridor expands to monumental heights, into a large circular chamber. The walls are decorated in vibrant murals depicting the siege of Alesia, culminating in a scene of the brothers Clovis and Connacht atop the piled Imperial dead across the entranceway. The chamber is littered with personal effects of the entombed: sleds, wagons, baskets, barrels, weapons, tools, clothing, sacrificed thralls. In the center of the chamber is a broad stone sarcophagus capped by a black statue of a wolf, surrounded by four massive columns. An inscription plate is fixed into the base of the monument, marked in imperial and runic.

“Here lies Connacht the Wolf, son of Aethel, last king of the Ascomanni. Brother of Clovis, who died in glorious battle against the imperial host of Emperor Athanasius at Alesia.”

The gold disc which holds the statue of Clovis becomes illuminated in blinding light and slowly gives way to a hazy white dust which evaporates and is drawn inward to a cavernous tunnel behind it. Where there was once the tomb of Clovis is a natural stone passage leading upward.

Escape from it…

The farmlands outlying the city are strangely serene, still as a grave, and at first all you can hear is the pattering of rain and hailstones against puddles and helmets. Then the patter is overtook by a stronger kind, hooves from the [north/south]. A detachment of two dozen mounted knights is thundering toward you from across the way with their swords and spears raised up.

Half conscious, dirty, bruised. It is Theodric of Seleucia, a veteran of the society.  He speaks weak words “Cruniac… Harald… Cassio… they are moving through the Tharsus pass…” he falls back unconscious

“I was stationed on the east side of the mountain with Glappa and Frithuwald watching over the Plain. A little girl was there, of a race I have yet seen. Bronzed, with narrow eyes, she wore beads and silks. She was calling for help in a tongue I have never heard. She seemed lost.”

“When Glappa went to her she pointed at him and he fell dead instantly, and her eyes turned black. Frithuwald drew Mistilteinn and the Nine came upon us with a great host of ancient dead and bewitched men. Great beasts. Mistilteinn could not stop their magics, and Frithuwald fell after we slew hundreds of them atop a pile of corpses. I managed to slip away. They marched forward toward the Tharsus Gate.”

“I rode into the wilderness and called for the congress but could only find a few of our order. Either they are scattered or they are fallen.”  “I fear by now they might very well be upon Hakonsfjord”

In ancient times there was a pacifist, peaceful people to the south east of the plain (fremde), lead by nine magi, who were spiritual gurus but had no political power. The pre-Ascomanni enslaved them with absolute brutality and used them to create great barrows and monuments. They slaughtered them en masse, raped them and through the free labor, slowly warred amongst each other to consolidate into a single kingdom.
While for the hundreds of years the slaughter and enslavement escalated, none of the Ascomanni warlords threatened to violate the most sacred Fremde aspect: the living form of the Fremde fertility goddess, whose avatar, a little girl, wanders the jungles of the Fremde homeland. The first consolidated king Yfeldan, in an attempt to break the Fremde spirit, captured this avatar, raped, killed and cannibalized her.
The rage of the magi was such that they forsook their pacifist creeds and began to raise those who had been slain by the Ascomanni, attacking them with terrible fury. While the magi once used their magic to heal and to grow, they were twisted into terrible forms and taught their people murder. The Ascomanni kingdom was instantly set into a retreat, unable to defend against the magi’s magic.

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