West Marches at the Board N Brew

“Wow, it's beautiful, Grognak. Thank you.” Tulgey took the new staff of carved and polished pale wood, clasped it together with his old, unworked staff of aged and mossy yew and inspected the pair carefully. “Yes, this should do it… Thanks, Grog! I’ll be back to show you later.” The half-orc scratched his head quizzically as the gnome scurried off towards the fields outside of town. Tulgey took the staves to the orchard where Haakon’s small wooden bear totem still stood. The ritual had helped, it seemed, and new shoots were starting to form on the old pear tree. Clearing a patch of snow with some flame conjuration, he planted the ends of each staff so they stood upright in the earth. From a pouch, he took a sprig of yew: flat, dark needles and red berries; and an oak twig: broad, lobed leaves and acorns. He braided the stems together, around and between the pair of staves, forming an intricate knot. He stepped back and looked over the display. Something was missing. “Stability

Milo detected another planar anomaly not far south of Tempered Vale, and, knowing what happened at the last planar gate, wanted to investigate right away. He guided the party a little ways into the foothills of the Watershed mountains, to a narrow, secluded box canyon. The planar energy was centered here, but diffuse, difficult to get a bead on, and no gate was apparent. Losing daylight, the party camped down for the night, in the relative luxury of the protective dome conjured by Echo. In the morning, things had changed. The canyon replaced by a cliffside cavern mouth, the snowy tundra landscape by a vast, featureless ocean. With little option, the party ventured deeper into the cave, and came upon a set of doors in limestone and green marble, adorned with bas-relief carvings of animals, monsters, and a stylized fountain icon. In an odd dialect of Celestial, Summerchild was able to read the inscription: Seekers of truths If you wish to learn my temple’s secrets First tell me you

Outside tempered veil, there was a small yurt. Smoke plumed from the center, thick and dark in the cold weather. Inside an elderly human woman dressed in heavy furs with vibrant hair and steely eyes sat across a large campfire from a burly half-orc with a somewhat irritated expression on his face. “Meema, is this really necessary?” “Boy, you might have taken yer mother’s name, but that don’t make you no less my grandson, y’ hear me?” “Sure, but I ain’t some sorta tribal bandit-huntin’ warrior like you!” “Yer right. Ways I hears it, you hunt the undead an’ punch necer-whatsits instead.” “Not on purpose! I Jus’ thought there’d be some interestin’ wood near wherebout’s they was adventurin’. B’sides, weren’t like I were jus’ gonna stand by when folk needed help.” “Exactly! Yer a fighter, Grognak! It’s in yer blood and it’s high-times you acknowledged it an’ got blooded like yer pappy and yer granpappy afore you.” Grognak gave a resigned sigh. “Fine.” “Right. Now, didja make

News of a giant harassing the village of Conyberry had spread, causing concern for the townsfolk. Seven of us set out from Tempered Vale: Aoris, Grognak, Mermur, Sedai, Tor, XIII, and myself.  When we got to town I followed the group to the local tavern, where we learned that the giant, known as Ergont to himself and Grizzleguts to the villagers, was being given offerings of food in return for leaving. Especially troubling in times like these, when supplies can be hard to come by.  Also troubling was the disappearance of a local hunter, Harlon Means, who was expected back from a hunt some time ago.  Aoris needed to resupply before we left and purchased a haunch of meat from a suspect butcher and a barrel of ale.  He is truly dedicated to his stomach. We set out from Conyberry along the east road, as a herd of caribou had been seen nearby.  If the townsfolk were hungry for caribou, perhaps the giant would be as well?  Besides, the tracks would make it easier for the smaller among us

Tulgey marched purposefully into the Grumley & Amberwash , hopped up on a stool, and set down his bag of alchemy supplies on the counter with a gentle clink of glass. “Good morning, my fine friend!” he called to the small figure in the back of the cramped little potion shop. “I’m here to procure the use of some of your equipment while I’m in town. I trust you’ll find my guild papers are in order.” With a flourish, he slapped down his letter of introduction, on filigreed Baldur’s Gate Guildhall letterhead. “I’ll just need some fresh subliming pots, and a larger alembic, if you have one. What temperature does your athanor run at in this weather?" He folded his hands on the counter in front of him and smiled expectantly. Filtwish Amberwash climbed up onto a stool opposite and squinted at Tulgey over his pince-nez spectacles. He seemed to scan the tree sap-stiffened mohawk and scalp tattoos with disapproval as he picked up the letter and unfolded it. Seeming not to notice, Tul

Thirteenth of First Seed, 836 P.S. Halfling monk Mojo, the warlocks Echo and Sweet Summerchild, the druid Tulgey and new roguish tabaxi ally XIII, followed rumours of some kind of combat arena recently built in the woods south of Drellin’s Ferry. It was well-attended, hosting a ladder of challenges called The Gauntlet , and the mysterious “Lady Dagger” was involved in the management. Eager to test their skill (and to get close to the figure linked to the Reavers of Wrath kidnappings) , the party signed up under the team name of The Paper Street Soap Company . The Hateful Eight The floor of the arena was manipulated by a druid to form different terrain, trap, and obstacle features. Eight goblins made use of the plentiful cover, but were dispatched quickly. Daemon Daemonium The terrain was mostly cleared, save for a row of chevaux de frise style spiked barriers. A horde of maw demons rushed the party. They could deal out some major damage, but were relatively easy to hit, and th

Milo, Tulgey, and Grognak approached the kennels under the light of a sickle moon. Grog opened his mouth to speak 'soft-like'. "Why, didja reckon, we need a scrap of yonder 'hounds fur?" Milo winced, but Tulgy spoke up softly. "Magic. Seeking magic, like what's in a compass, except we're not trying to find north." "I's heard that you needin a bit of the dog which bit yah, after you drank from the jug o' moonshine. Liken this ta that?" Tulgy breathed in and was about to launch a long explanation into how a beasts nature was tucked away in so much as a whisker, but Milo touched his shoulder and cut in. "Precisely, like that." He gestured at the kennel ahead, "Want to keep a watch out while we do our thing?" Grognak nodded and Milo and Tulgey crept across the street. As they approached, one of the dogs lifted its head and eyed the approaching strangers. A low growl left his throat and Milo and Tulgey hal

So che è passato un po 'di tempo da quando abbiamo parlato, e ci sono alcuni problemi irrisolti tra noi, ma sento il bisogno di dirti alcune cose. Gli elfi della collina di Starsong sono spariti .Dove, non posso dire, sembrano essersi lasciati qualche tempo fa. Cose immonde perseguitano la loro casa ora, e sembrano essere alla ricerca di qualcosa. Ancora una volta, non so che cosa. Ricorda, zio, come siamo arrivati qui? Da allora ho percepito le crepe nella realtà e li ho cercati. Ne ho trovati molti e non portano a casa, ma in altri posti. Ricordo la sensazione che provavo quando siamo venuti qui. L'ho sentito di nuovo, anche se è diverso. Qualcosa è venuto in questo mondo. Non posso dire che cosa. Te lo dico perché credo tu debba sapere. Non saremo mai al sicuro, non qui, non da nessuna parte. La Vale ha bisogno del Cazzo. Qualunque cosa tu pensi che io penso a te zio, sappiate questo: sei stato un uomo buono. So che è la verità, è solo difficile per me credere. Quind

Deer Hrofga*, Hi. How are you? I am good. I have a big story to tell you today. So I made some new friends. They are small and pink, but they seem nice enuff. One of them is like dad. One is reely small, but he can turn into animals. It is kind of weerd, but in a gud way. There is also a lady. She has horns and is not pink but is red. She can do magik, like that guy who made the potion that fixed dads arm wen he fell off the roof that one time.  It has been reel cold out resently. There is lots of snow and stuff, but it is okay becuz I wear the hat you made me, and it is reely warm.  So, we went travelling. We met some nice family and tried to take them somewhere safe, but then a giant ogre broke the door. I had to fite it. It was reely strong, but I was stronger and I skwished it. Then there was also another one and I skwished that one too and it was dead again. I say again becuz I think it was already dead when we fited it. It was very skwishy and looked like Old Man Rodgins af

Preface In the study of modern Physyyk much attention is paid to the Entropic Principle, especially as to why caloric is so often lost to the aether during combustion or similar. This entropic energy is lost to the chaos inherent in the acts of combustion and fire Majyyks, and is not itself destructable in nature; rather the advance of disorder and chaos is unopposed in modern Physyyk. It is not only applicable to Physyyk, however, the entropic principle applies also to Metaphysyyk and indeed in the sphere of Majyyk. The only process without symmetry in the flow of time, Entropy is alone in defining the forward motion through time's great river. One can have those Galvanic principles free in time's flow, but one can never expect Disorder to become order, and this chaos cannot be constrained without the creation of greater chaos elsewhere in the Aether. Why when great lord Ao tasks the gods of the furthest realms with the balance of chaos and order can such chaos be unoppos

I mustn't get myself pushed back in fights I've got no business like when Haakon, XIII and Jyack plus Tordek got me in this: A scheme to save some gnomes, they said, by turfing a guy with ease. Haakon bested him once, he said, that "villain," Richter Mortise. Over the back wall we would go and catch these guys unawares. 🤫 That's where they were hanging out, though, so we were met with their glares. 😒 The thing about a kobold's life, and ev'ry kobold knows it: your indiscriminate demise is preached from ev'ry pulpit. We're "vermin," see, there is no doubt, or so say the "civilized." They seek us out, from homes they route, all their hatred undisguised. Yet in the snow, under moonglow, blood in my coughs and splutter, I prayed to Kurtulmak, you know, "Please save us stupid fuckers." We got ourselves in o'er our heads. Some sort of heroes were we? But I've no doubt n

“Thanks for helping, Haakon. It’s been a long time since I’ve even thought about anything like this.” The goliath nodded, and stepped back from the fire-pit he had built, small and contained by rocks so as not to threaten the orchard. Not that the snowy landscape was in much danger of catching, but still. No sense in risking it. “The druids of my forest would use these communions in the months leading up to winter, to lengthen the foraging season. Nobody wanted to be stuck eating lichen until the spring.” Tulgey sighed, and looked around at the bare trees. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good here, when winter is already set deep. But these people are suffering, we have to try something .” Tulgey shuffled through a bundle of faded scrolls, on an odd sort of parchment that the gnomes of Tumtum Tree made from riverbank reeds. The notes, scrawled in a mix of gnomish script and druidic symbols were messy and disorganised, barely legible in places. Tulgey was never much of a student und

To Professor Tor, In the interest of discussing planer gates and their ramifications on how we perceive reality, I will recount my first experience traveling through the planes. Please keep this account in scholarly circles as it's information may trouble less enlightened folk. Some seven years ago my family ran afoul of the ruling religious authority in our homeland Sacelea. My uncle had managed to book us passage on the ship of an old smuggling friend of his, Hondo Nygomara, to a distant land on the continent of Wosterhiem . For most of the trip we hid in the hold of Hondo's ship, avoiding the notice of various port authorities, but it soon became apparent that our movements were being tracked. In desperation, Hondo suggested an alternative destination, and my uncle agreed. We were packed into a large crate and hauled aboard a different vessel, one that didn't pitch with the waves. Then, it happened. At first it was a vibration throughout the ship, and we felt it k

Echo, Aoris and Tulgey were joined by two other adventurers of the Marches, Milo and Tordek. They too had encountered the Witchcross raiders and heard the name “Murdock”, so with common purpose, they set out into the Witchwood, with Lt. Greystone’s blessing, and a rearguard of soldiers following a half day behind. Examining the raiders’ path for clues, they found a small totem object, torn and snagged on a branch, that Milo and Echo were able to identify as belonging to a particular tribe of orcs, located to the north Witchwood. The careless loss of a presumably sacred item, the chaotic state of the egress point, and the fort’s witness reports, led the party to consider the raids hasty, and desperate, as though whipped into recklessness by some authoritative force. Led by their ranger, they ventured into the forest. A day or two north, they were set upon suddenly by a pair of large and vicious beasts. Barbed tentacles curled from the horse-sized feline forms, and one of the creatur