Campaign Chronicles

  08 Newkolt 349 AC A few minutes ago... Raven lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. The Reverie had once again eluded him so he would just rest his eyes for a little while. Then, he fell asleep. - - - - - Downstairs, in what had once been a grand hall where musicians played and guests dined and danced seemingly without a care, Parnitha stood at the map table once again. She had managed to steal a little over twenty minutes to get cleaned up and change into a fresh uniform. A heavily watered glass of wine stood nearby, largely untouched as she looked at the two lists in front of her. The first list had one-hundred and thirteen names written on it, along with that name's owner's medical disposition - walking wounded, critical condition, frostbitten but functional, stable. The second list was about one-third of those names sorted into order of evacuation. She recognized a handful of surnames, thought she may know a couple if she had a face to put to them. She sighed, o...

11 Newkolt 349 AC Arthur looked across the courtyard. Bren had upheld his part of the plan. While Phineas kept the Shock N Awe-atron trained on the nearest Dragonarmy soldiers, Altan, Davaa, Bren, and the rest of his deserters crawled out of the sewer. For a moment, Arthur simply smiled. They were an unlikely group. Under different circumstances, they would have likely been enemies. Arthur stepped toward Granite and Agnes. "You two ready?" He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Aye, lad," Granite replied as he readied his warhammer. Been waitin' long enough." Agnes looked up. Reflections of firelight danced in her eyes. "Let us end this, my knight." Bren touched the ogre's shoulder. "Grumak? The door." The ogre started forward, building speed as he went. Davaa watched him go. "That is the entire plan?" Bren did not look away from the guards. "For that door? Yes." Phineas adjusted his goggles. ...

     It started with a video about why orcas generally avoid attacking walruses.      The narrator got to the part about the dangers of those enormous tusks — how a walrus is not just a large, slow animal, but a heavily armed creature capable of seriously injuring a much larger predator — and I immediately thought  "Vampire."      The rest of the day became a rabbit hole involving undead traits, walrus biology, Arctic folklore, and a surprisingly important distinction between a floating log and actual driftwood. Vampire Walrus CR: 6     Large Undead (Augmented Animal)     HD: 5d12 (33 hp) Init: –1     Spd: 10', swim 30' AC: 18 (–1 size, –1 Dex, +10 natural), t: 8, ff: 18 Attacks: (BAB +2; Grap +11); +6 Gore: 1d8+5 plus Improved Grab Space/Reach: 10 ft./5 ft. SA: Blood Drain, Haunting Song, Improved Grab SQ: DR10/Driftwood or Walrus Ivory, Fast Healing 3, Low-l...

08 Newkolt 349 AC Raven sat cross-legged on the bed, hands resting on his knees, palms up and closed his eyes. Cedron's magic had done its work. He could breathe normally without his ribs screaming in protest. The slashes across his back from the dragon's claws had closed - the wounds scabbed over and the scabs had already flaked away, leaving fresh skin beneath. He began concentrating on the Reverie. "Blackbird... Red One..." Raven's eyes opened. Ra'ziir's voice carried across the mindlink, "We're trailing the column. It's possible the ancient green Wyrm is the same beast that Shadow saw in his scrying… I'll update you as we learn more. Red One out." He considered sending a response, but there was little point. Ra'ziir and Kysek knew what they were doing, and Ra'ziir had said he would report when they knew more. Besides, Raven had been given explicit instructions concerning what he was supposed to be doing. He glanced ...