Campaign Chronicles

As I was driving for work the other day, a rogue thought popped into my head. What if Bigfoot was just a Big Foot? Like, a giant foot just wandering the wilds of Faerûn or the Feywild or even the Pacific Northwest. No body. No larger creature it was attached to. Just a foot. Well, wonder no more! Big Foot CR: 3     Large Aberration     HD: 5d8+20 (44 hp) Init: -1     Spd: 40'     AC: 15 (–1 size, -1 Dex, +7 natural), touch 8, flat-footed 15 Attacks: (BAB +3; Grap +11); +7 Stomp: 1d6+5 (20/×2) or +7 Bite: 1d8+5 (20/×2) Special Attacks: Trample (1d6+7) Special Qualities: Blindsight 30', Tremorsense 60', Woodland Stride Align: N     Saves: Fort +5, Ref +0, Will +4 Str: 21, Dex: 8, Con: 19, Int: 12, Wis: 10, Cha: 8 Skills: Speak Common and Sylvan; Hide +3, Knowledge (Nature) +7, Listen +8, Move Silently +7, Survival +6 (additional +2 in aboveground natural environment...

01 Newkolt 349 AC Kysek sees the two dragons crash to the ground. He races along the street, silent as death. The carnage surrounding them is unbelievable. All around, he sees splintered kiosks, smashed storefronts with some buildings entirely collapsed into the street mixed with bloody smears of what were once elven revelers just minutes ago celebrating the arrival of the new year. He crouches behind some rubble, his well practiced fingers plucking the spell components he needs without having to look. He falls into his spellcasting and focuses on the two dragons that are just now getting their feet under them and calls out, " Καταιγίδα πάγου!" Hailstones begin falling from the sky, pounding the red wyrms with punishing force. Both beasts roar, their anger rattling the few remaining intact windows in their frames. "Master, look," Spewer's voice cuts through the din of battle, drawing Shadow's attention back to the ground and the fallen kender. The dark el...

01 Newkolt 349 AC As the dragons appear and loose their breath weapons, the adventurers react, scattering to avoid the brunt of the surprise assault. Kysek is in motion as soon as the first dragon flickers into view. He darts into an alley, completely evading the fire and lightning and toxic gas pours into the street. As the initial wave subsides, he steps out, shouting to those in the crowd who are still able to move, “Help each other! Quickly! Move to Lorraine’s and seek shelter! Those who can, help those who can’t! GO! NOW!” He twists the gem on his Ring of Gyges and vanishes. He darts out and watches the dragons as the red dragons begin to close in. He focuses on the lead one and shouts, " αστραπή αλυσίδας!" Kysek snaps back into view as bolt of lightning lances from his hand and strikes the dragon squarely in the chest and washes over it with no effect. The rider on the dragon's back is not so lucky. The electricity from the spell surges through the robed figure, bla...

Silvanost - New Year's Eve 30 Frostkolt 348 AC - 01 Newkolt 349 AC Arthur leaned back slightly, studying her face in the flickering light of the tavern’s hearth. The laughter and music from the other tables felt far away, as if the two of them sat alone in the whole of the building. “Lady Agnes,” he said gently, “these last days have gone by faster than I’d have liked. Before the festival’s lights go out and the winter streets grow quiet again… I’d like to see them through your eyes. Show me your favorite places, the ones you keep close to your heart.” He offered her a small, genuine smile, “No grand halls, no formal feasts—just where you would choose to be, if this were your last night of the season. Let me know the corners of this city that make you feel at home.” His hand rested lightly in hers. “I can think of no better way to remember this festival than to spend it walking beside you." Ag'nesallynn smiles, "And I, you, Dear Arthur. I did not expect to find.....

Marzipan (a.k.a. Marzi) : Foodfolk male Expert 7 CR:  6     Small Humanoid (Foodfolk)      HD:  7d6 plus 3 (27 Hp) Init:  -1      Spd:  30'      AC:  15 (Chain Shirt, +1 size, -1 Dex), -2 ACP Attacks:   (BAB +5; Grap +1) ;   +7  Candy-Coated Rolling Pin +1: 1d4+2 plus 1d4 Holy (20/×2) or  +7  Sizzling Pan +1¹: 1d6+2 (20/×2) SA:  -- SQ:  Foodfolk Traits, Indentured, Skill Versatility Align:  N      Saves:  Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +6 Str: 12, Dex: 8, Con: 10, Int: 14, Wis: 13, Cha: 15 Skills:  Read/Write and Speak Common; Appraise +7 (additional +2 with prepared foods), Craft (Cooking) +8, Diplomacy +20, Gather Information +4 (additional +2 in Land of Sweets), Handle Animal +9, Knowledge (Arcana) +7, Knowledge (History) +8, Knowledge (Local - Land of Sweets) +10, Knowledge (Nobility and...

22 thru 30 Frostkolt 348 AC Arthur pulls out a chair for Lady Agnes and pushes it in and takes his own seat. "Once we get the tree to link with the others I should be able to return. And my plans? I was originally thinking I should return to my home in Lankhmar, but now I find myself seeking a real home." He watched her for a moment, his hands wrapped around a half-empty mug, his voice low. “You make the silence feel… safe.” Agnes looked up, her eyes catching the light. “I’d forgotten what peace felt like,” he added, almost to himself. “Until this place. Until you. I don’t know what path lies ahead. But if I could carry one moment with me… it would be this one." Arthur stare for just a moment longer before shaking his head, "My apologies, Lady Agnes, I don't know what came over me." "Do not apologize, good knight," she reaches out and takes his hand, "I know what you mean." Cedron walks with Ra’ziir. He studies everything his ear...

Note: This adventure is based on the "Winter's Crest" module for 5e. It has been adapted for edition and level. 21 - 22 Frostkolt 348 AC Dollis makes his way to the window and looks outside. "There must be hundreds of them!" Grotto sees the aftermath of Raven's handiwork. Hearing the voice from outside, Grotto yells back... "Who are you? Under what authority gives you the right to attack these people with such a large force?" The dwarf makes his way down the stairs and peers out the window. In the near distance, at the edge of the light cast by the inn's lanterns he sees a tall broad figure, a pale white giant dressed in a robe of red autmunal leaves, a staff in his hand. He is flanked by dozens, not hundreds of what he called his "elves", gaunt angular ceatures with red eyes and savage, hungry grins all dressed in green and red. A lean, silver-haired figure clad in armor that glints like fish scales in the light stands beside him. ...