Campaign Chronicles

L.C. Leprechaun (a.k.a. Lucky, a.k.a. Sir Charms) "They're after me lucky charms!" Male Leprechaun CR2 (C)N Fey Init +3, Senses: Listen +12, Spot +8, Low-Light Vision Languages: Read/Write and Speak Common and Sylvan AC: 14 (+1 size, +3 Dex), t: 4, ff: 11 Hp: 7 (1HD) Immune: - - Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +4 Spd: 30' (6 squares) Melee +4 Unarmed Strike: 1d2-2 Melee +4 Walking Stick: 1d4-2 Combat Gear: Walking Stick Str: 7, Dex: 16, Con: 13, Int: 14, Wis: 15, Cha: 16 SA: Spell-like Abilities SQ: Fey traits, DR5/cold iron, Low-Light Vision, Feats: Run, Weapon Finesse (b) Skills: Concentration +5, Hide +11, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Knowledge (Nature) +6, Listen +8, Move Silently +7, Profession (Baker) +6, Spellcraft +6, Spot +6 Possessions: Clothing, Walking Stick, Small Black Cauldron Height: 2'4"     Weight: 44 lbs. Hair: Bright Orange    Eyes: Blue Appearance: Lucky is roughly 2' tall with bright orange hair and blue eyes. His ...

I have gone back and started thinking about other ideas for the Western Campaign I have been working on. Imagine if you will, a ranch somewhere in the American West during the late 1870s... The Civil War ended a few years ago, the Transcontinental Railroad has been completed. This ranch is inhabited by cowboys, a Chinese cook, and some other people passing through, is on friendly-ish terms with a tribe of Native Americans and a wandering mountain man who comes to trade every so often. These characters receive the Call to Action and find themselves involved in strike against a greedy land baron, a band of train and bank robbers, corrupt officials who have aims on what is left of the Natives' land - all classic Western tropes. But as the story progresses, more is revealed to the group of heroes. Magic is real but the Catholic church works feverishly to keep anything supernatural covered up, chupacabra hide in narrow canyons and come out to feed at night, a shaman's cu...

Day Five of the Odinsleep (Nearly 2 am, 5 hours until sunrise) “I recall the philosophies of the sage, Zeno, but what you describe is wholly different. With what you can remember of this being, it there anything one might do to gain even the briefest of advantages? And how might I reach this plane. Is it like the others in how it might be accessed?” Hárbarðr shakes his head. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. A creature of this magnitude would lay waste to you and all of your companions in short order were you to try bearding it in its lair. It is a Prince of Time and it would be surrounded by a retinue of creatures much like itself. Time is an unbeatable enemy. Summoning it MAY give you a slim chance of surviving long enough to bind it but even then, the possibility of you or your allies being aged either to death or into preconception would remain.” Saga adds, “My Father is correct. You must decide if the power of this bracer is worth the risk you would be plac...

12 Feb 1371 (1828 Grimmlands calendar) Chronosaj pulls a short, fat pistol from his belt. He shoves a canister into the open end, pulls back on his striker and takes aim at the oncoming swarm. He squeezes the trigger and the pin snaps forward, piercing the firing pin to send the canister rocketing out of the open end of the gun. The canister hits the floor and explodes with a meaty “WHOOMP!” that sprays fire in all directions. Scores of spiders are incinerated and even more are taken out when Knives unleashes another burst of fiery breath. Over the screaming of burning spiders and roar of the flames, two voices call out from somewhere above. A man screams “Hello!? Is there anyone there?” And a woman that cries, “Thank God! Quickly, hurry and get us out of here!” Chronosaj: 86% health Knives: 84% health, 1 fire breaths remaining

16 Tsou 2621 Shou Calendar Hansuke slows, crouching in the shadows and peers down the hill. He sees three men approaching. They are dressed in wildly dissimilar attire, one in the clothing of a well-to do merchant, the second in simple monk robes, and the third in O-Yori Armor with an antlered helmet worn atop his head. Unless this land does not observe a caste system like in his homeland, then it is likely that these three men are adventurers of some sort. The Hengeyokai monk doesn’t pause for even a moment. He steps out of the shadows and onto the mountain trail, revealing himself to the three men. They instantly stop, the armored samurai’s hand flies to the hilt of his katana while the monk assumes a fighting stance. Only the merchant remains reactionless, assessing the appearance of the unknown traveler. Hansuke calls out to the group, “I am Hansuke Yamamoto. I come from Heibeisu, Heigen Ryo Kokoro in the Empire of Rokugan. I mean you no harm! The gods have sent me here for r...

18th day of the Month of Conflict, 126th Year of Factol Haskar’s Administration/Month of Sunsebb 573 CY calendar “Very well, when do we start?” Jamaros replies. Doresain smiles, his sharpened teeth glinting red in the low-light. “You are eager! That is a sign that bodes well for your future. Depart straightaway. Your lieutenants know the way to the portal that while take you to my chosen land. Your personal guards wait for you at the gate.” Jamaros turned to follow the two surviving Risen , the ghouls who had killed him so Doresain could bring him back from the dead to serve as his general. Resentment burned deep in the undead barbarian’s still, cold heart and dark thoughts lurked in the back of his mind. He hadn’t lied to the Ghoul King. He had no desire to sit upon on a throne and he did want to rejoin his companions once he had become strong enough but he would exact his vengeance. The two Risen lead Jamaros along a darkened path between crumbling mausoleums and beneath moss d...

12 Feb 1371 (1828 Grimmlands calendar) After a quick conference, Knives and Chronosaj decide to see what is going on above. They begin making their way across the large open chamber toward the stairs. The ex-mayor of Hamelin sweeps his blade up and down I front of him, patting unseen strands of webbing in the dark while the gunslinger does the same with his fiery scimitar. The residents of the webs react instantly to the destruction of their homes and begin to drop en masse from the ceiling and start pouring out of cracks in the floor and walls where crumbling mortar has left gaps over the years. In moments, the floor is alive with a carpet of spiders that scuttle toward the adventurers, venom glistening on their fangs. The swarm expands, growing to cover the entire floor and walls of the circular room. Gossamer filaments of silk trail in the wake of each individual until streams of white overlay the shiny black and brown carapaces. The clicking of thousands of tiny feet and c...