Peacock Sky

Vestyx game - South
The Story Begins

Kayrn the half-troll-half-orc awoke one night to the voice of his lord, a secretive Shadow Dragon, who led him and his shadow drake eidelon through the tunnels of his subterranean home to the Grove, city of Wildlings. At this same time, Enantos, Wildling by birth and Shapeshifter by blood, was headed out to explore the nearby swamp with his companion, a plant creature in the shape of a cheetah. That is when Kayrn arrived. A crowd formed around the outsider on the streets, but knowing the laws against outsiders to be strict and often deadly, Enantos convinced the crowd to let him lead the newcomer out of the woods. The two of them traveled through the woods, just barely skirting the Treant guards and making their way into the swamp.

Once into the swamp, they headed for a camp site Enantos knew about, but saw a mysterious form standing tall in the distance and decided to investigate on their way. There they discovered the skeleton of a great dragon with a Kobald city built haphazardly into, onto, and around the corpse. The Kobalds, and a handful of Pygmy Boggards milled about the village, looking anxious and angry. Though the two travelers were met with a pointy hello, reason prevailed as they spoke to Kartho, the leader and apparently priest of the Kobalds. Kartho explained that their sacred artifact, the Briarstone had been stolen mysteriously while under guard. Further discussion uncovered that Briarstone is the mineralized heart of their dragon god Rokshabar, who saved them during the Sundering but died himself as a result. The artifact allows them to farm food in this strange land, and keep to the vegetarian tenants of their faith, laid down by the great dragon before his death.

The travelers decided to ask around, in hopes of helping the Kobalds; they talked with the suspicious looking Boggards first, plying them with drink. Once drunk, the Boggards admitted their disdain for an alliance attempt by the Kobalds, stating that the recent cold snaps had ruined their own crops, or they would have no interest in the deal. They insulted the state of the kobald city and called it “squalid”. They also bragged loudly about the deviousness and cunning of their leader Lord Gosstog, and his great skill for backstabbing. Unable to locate Gosstog at the moment, they decided to question those that had guarded the Briarstone.

The guards were all very young, having just been initiated as adults, and seemed very ashamed by the loss on their watch. With some pressing, the teens broke one after the other. Finally, one admitted to falling asleep, and being woken by a strange bird song and some splashing, which he investigated to no avail. Afterwards, Enantos gave some of them chocolate, and Kayrn shot off some of the fireworks he had made to cheer them up. From there, they located Gosstog, but he was in the middle of a serious discussion with Kartho; the travelers listened in on their conversation for awhile, and then revealed their locations, flustering both officials. They were summarily shooed out of town, though not unkindly.

From there, they made their way to The Black Wall, a campsite that Enantos had scouted out, though never used. On the way, they were harried by giant leeches, which sucked their blood and weakened their constitutions, though the two travelers prevailed. After the battle, they made it safely to the camp, and set up for the night to rest. The two, once strangers and now fast friends, discussed their location and creatures of the swamp. As Enantos went over his illustrated journals with Kayrn in Orcish, he heard a soft voice say in the same language, " You speak Orcish?" Suddenly the vines on the wall began to move and form themselves into the shape of a person, who shortly introduced himself as N’keepir.

N’keepir turned out to be a lone Plantani who had been born here alone due to a trick of wind and pollen. He was especially excited by Enantos’ journal, and pulled out some of his own, showing them his maps of the area as well. Eager for intellectual conversation, they discussed much, including languages, which revealed that N’keepir was familiar with the chirping language the Kobald children had heard. Through a stroke of luck, he had witnessed several small forms carrying something incredibly large across the swamp. Before the two travelers slept, N’keepir noticed their leech bites and provided them with a remedy that would heal them by morning. As the meat beings slept, N’keepir spent much of the night in awe and discussion with Enantos’ plant cheetah friend, as he had never met another sentient plant.

In the morning, all three set out together to track down the thieves, who they had now identified as Squodd, a strange secretive race that N’keepir had only seen while in vine form. The Plantani led them as far as he could, but then the three had to struggle to track further; through their combined effort, they found solid pathways hidden below the water. Realizing that these were probably Squodd made paths, they followed the winding underwater bridge-way through the swamps to a dense thicket of mangroves. The keen eyes of the travelers could see three small forms and one large one in the middle of the thicket and sought out the secret entrance with ease.

Slipping through the watery tunnel of underbrush and roots, they sneaked into the small camp without alerting the shy Squodd children. But then, just as they were about to confront the thieves by magically enlarging their size, a juvenile Frogemoth broke through the outer wall of trees. The terrified Squodd suddenly found themselves between the giant travelers and the massive beast, and backed up against the trees, turning almost invisible. Pygmy Boggards swarmed in after, the young Kobald guards hot on their trail. An epic battle ensued, where Enantos, Kayrn, and their pets fought wildly against the beast. The slimy creature wrangled them in its tentacles and bit at them madly, but the heroes fought it tooth and nail, eventually killing most of the Boggards and driving the huge beast away.

The Kobald guards got to the fray just as it was ending (much to their disappointment) but were overjoyed to see their people’s holy artifact. The heroes tasked the Kobalds with returning the stone to its rightful place and set off with the Squodd children to take them back to their home elsewhere in the swamp….

Defense of the Amber City

The Spiderbot sprinted through the tangled marsh, skipping over the muddy road that crawled through the Golden Savanna, approaching the leaning towers of the Amber City. Closest buildings are also the newest, crafted by both the Aati and the Clanless from clay and straw, these sturdy and spacious huts are built in a grid formation, and well maintained. The truly chaotic nature of the cities ramshackle construction becomes readily apparent as soon as the adventurers passed these clay houses, into the riot of haphazard slums and shanties that crowd the weathered passage as it flows deep into the ruined city.

The machine broke from the treeline, shocking the gathered host of Unmarked. Unphased, the metallic arachnid plowed forward, carefully avoiding the mass of gathered Orcs, who stood around huge bonfires. The creature skittered towards the center of town, where an open area sat before the frozen gates of the Amber Dome. The creature continued, full tilt, never slowing, as a hidden door opened in the ground ahead, revealing a concealed portal leading to darkness below. The spiderbot descended into this opening without skipping a beat, following a smooth ramp into a cavernous mechanical bay that stretched onward farther than the eye could follow. As the great construct began to power down, the gargantuan circular door silently closed behind it.

The group disembarked from their trusty robot steed, after ensuring that the creature had indeed been deactivated. Old machinery hummed to life as lights slowly flickered on, one by one. The group searched their immediate surroundings, finding an intact engineering station showing signs of recent use, and the journal left behind by its previous operator. Phil hastily pocketed the journal, while Ryn began exploring the seemingly endless rows of mechanical bays, hoping to find valuable tech salvage within. He stumbled upon the activator for the entrance, and reopened the door before venturing deeper into the underground ruins.

Cylis somehow pissed off Phil, who wandered among the throngs of gathered clanless, hoping for gossip or information, or maybe just a breath of fresh air. At the edge of the bonfires he found an unlikely pair of Aati, an elderly arthritic Stork sniper named Cuork, and a recently maimed bear warrior named Bron. Phil struck up a conversation with these military men, while Cylis briefly introduced Wog and Nurl to the mechanical bay, and the robotic creature that bore them here.

Nurl pulled Cylis aside as curious Unmarked Orcs poured into the garage, confiding his fears in the young mist-shaper. Nurl informed Cylis that most of the Aati and able bodied Orcs had been drawn away from the city on military business a few days earlier, and that some young hunters had gone missing to the north, near the Deep Badger Den. After this brief discussion, Cylis used his powers over the mist to assist a somewhat self-conscious Nurl in delviering a rousing speech to the Orcish mob, bringing hope to a fearful people.

As the speech came to its conclusion, Phils sharp ears were able to pick out the sounds of a galloping creature, barely discernable over the roaring crowd. He surged to his feet, quickly knocking an arrow, as a lone gazelle stamped into the firelight, its huge eyes wide with fright. Behind the creature, securely fastened by a crude rope was a badly beaten clanless boy, barely clinging to consciousness. The delirous youth mumbled incoherencies about his lost companions, seemingly lost in fever.

Cylis and Phil quickly attended the poor boy, administering to his wounds and forcing an antipoison down the boys parched throat. The Clanless youth struggled to speak, but could only mutter garbled warnings about the treeline. Cylis used his looking glass to scope out the eastern road, where he spied a long line of figures at the edge of the overgrown Marsh. Despite the distance, Phil and Cylis were easily able to discern the clan markings of the Laughing Serpents, who appered to be engaged in some sort of crude jousting tourney.

Cylis watched this event with intent, and soon realized that the cruel northern raiders were toying with the remaning clanless children, forching the h hapless prisoners to joust with poison-tipped spears. Cylis witnessed the first unlucky contestant fall from his hyena-viper, twitching uncontrollably.

The gathered host surged out of the Amber City, with Ryan and Cylis leading the charge. The enraged defenders covered ground quickly, as Ryan and Cylis drew far ahead of the slower Orcish mob. Ryan roared out a challenge to the Serpents leader as he raged, barreling into the surprised raiders, as Cylis summoned the spirits of the Great Grey Leapers from within the Mist. Cylis’ vaporous construct took shape among the surprised Serpents, who were knocked from their feet by a single powerful swipe of the creatures massive fist.

Ryn called upon the eldritch powers of his dragon blood, and grew to the size of a dragon itself, taller than many of the Marsh trees and dwarfing the frightened Orcish raiders. He charged into the mass of reavers, tossing them about like a child might with his toys. As he called upon the powers of his blood, Ryn heard a faint voice, warning him of imminent danger, but the furious Lobex was lost to his rage, and these warnings fell on deaf ears. Phil charged into melee atop his trusty steed, firing arrow after arrow into the mounted leader, who was thrown clear from his saddle by the force of the arrow. Phil set about calming the riderless Hyena Viper, who seemed entranced by the Aati. As the players dispatched with the Serpents, Cylis and Ryn both noticed movement concealed amongst the overgrown swamp. As Cylis peered into the dense undergrowth, he noticed dozens of camouflaged Orcs standing motionless by a large metallic structure covered by leaves and debris.

Cylis feared these concealed Orcs were the true threat, and set about warnign the approaching clanless defenders before the trap could be sprung. Sensing that their plan had failed, the concealed Orcs attacked, firing an anciant technological weapon at the advancing Clanless. This devastating device produced a beam of solid energy, capable of demlishing all in its path. The first hasty shot veered wide away from the approaching Orcs, melting a wide swath of grasslands, as the energy beam dissapeared into the distance.

Cylis sprang into action, summoning another vaporous leaper behind the obscured cannon. The desperate pilot frantically attempted to flee the machine, but the beast was faster, and crushed the horrified orc in a looping double-fisted blow. The remaning Orcs turned to the mist-elemental in horror, as the vaporous beast casually smashed them to the ground with its mammoth fists. Phil approached the remaning mounted Orc, a hapless Clanless who was desperately trying to reign the vicious beast in. The experienced woodsman had little difficulty taming the beast, as the frightened boy clambered to safety.

Meanwhile, the insistent voice in Ryns head grew ever louder, as it attempted to steer the raging barbarian towards the garage. The defenders suddenly heard the familiar voice of Wog in their minds, worridly informing the players of an unsettling scratching noise issuing from the walls of the subterranean mechanical bay.

Cylis was the first to react, flying with great speed back towards the Amber City, fearing the words. Ryn followed immediately, trusting that Phil would have little difficulty vanquishing the few remaining Orcs at the treeline, as the Marksman placed another casual shot through the eye of a charging raider.

As Ryan and Cylis hustled back towards the tarage, they both noticed furtive figures creeping out from the Souther Swamps. These skulking amphibians were quickly identified as the same Boggards who had long plagued denizens of the Amber City. These marauders moved slowly, as they took measure of the battle at hand. The heroes arrived at the garage to the sound of screams, as frighteened orcs fled in terror up the steep ramp to the surface.

ylis descended into the depths of the subterranean garage, followed by the monstrous Lobex, who had grown to such a size that his massive shaggy head nearly brushed the cieling. Frightened cries of fleeing orcs filled the vast chamberas the two heroes searched for the source of distress. Dust hung low in the garage, creating an obscuring brown haze that flowed silently from a recent tunnel in the stone wall. As the heroes watched, a huge form snuffled and shuffled through the hole, pushing aside great boulders with a single swipe of its muscular claws. Patchy, shaggy fur covered the badger-like crature, whose shoulders stood easily higher than a full grown Orc. The creature let out a huge shuddering snort, swivelling its ugly mole like visage towards Cylis. Another such creature followed behind it, and in the distant tunnel, Ryn and Cylis heard the horrifyingly familiar chitinous scuttling of the Skitterswarm.

Ryn charged headlong into the fray, attempting to draw the attention of these savage beasts. Cylis spoke anciant words of power, calling on the elemental might of the Mist to form a great wall of flame, a roaring inforno that washed over the skitterswarm down into the tunnel and beyond. The flame illuminated more forms deeper within the crude stone passage, two Orcs dressed in the vaunted Smolderscale armor, wielding enormous bone halberds. Behind, dressed in luxuriant crimson robes and leanding heavily on a gnarled staff was Smolderpriest Grumsh himself, a look of apoplectic rage on his scarred visage. Grumsh watched in fury as his precious Skitterswarm burned to ash, though the flame washed over he and his cohorts without effect. The Northern priest shared one last hate-filled glare with the heroes, before fading back into the flame-shrouded tunnel, as his heavily armored warriors charged into the garage, covering his retreat.

Meanwhile, Ryn was engaged in a titanci battle with the savage Deep Badgers, one of which had latched into the Lobex’ fur, grappling the huge Lobex. Ryn managed to dislodge the beast, but not before its companion dug a deep furrow into Ryns midsection, spraying blood. The Smolderpriests enchantment faded from the Badgers as Ryn fell to the floor, and the bewildered creatures scurried to the exit. Cylis managed to administer a healing salve to the Lobex, just int ime for Ryn to protect him from the furious attacks of the remaining Smolderdrake warriors, whose eyes burned with eldritch flame. The injured Lobex traded blow for blow with these barbarians, matching his diamond sharp claws to their enchanted armor, and finding his metal far stronger. Ryn found an opening, and sent the larger Orcs weapon flying as he summarily disemboweled the Orcish barbarian. His companion took the brief advantage, hacking the ichor-soaked Lobex with his bone Halbard, and the Wolfish barbarian slumped to the floor, blood leaking from many wounds.


Journey to The City of Amber


Group moved north to windswept ruins with longstriders and silent monks in tow. Tusk split to investigate Ratusk sightings. Undead pursued slowly. Players mount spiderbot, clanless

Encountered grove of giant apple trees. Orcs in trees, pulling down fruit, giant bear behind them, doing the same. Group sees bear, bear sees tree climbers, group races to warn climbers before bear appears. Phil charms bear, bear joins group. Bear is too big and scary for town, stays behind in marshes, waiting for runic hydra.

Players reach city at dusk. Glowing lights of distant bonfires. The thick swamp parts as players grow closer to the city.

Trial of the Reavers

Players followed Kurtog the Fist deep into the cemetery, where they found the remainder of the Northern Orcs, who had suffered a fate similar to the Laughing Hyena that Kurtog himself had possessed. These creatures were gathered at the base of the White Tree, where crypts from all worlds had sprouted like massive stone weeds from the sodden graveyard ground. A thin cobblestone road snaked it’s way among the massive sepulchers, past moss covered mausoleums and crumbling gravestones, to the solemn figures, standing passive as the players approached.

The possessed serpents stood impassively, watching as the players approached, seemingly unconcerned with their intrusion. Each of these recently dead Orcs bore the same strange physical changes exhibited by Kurtog, lengthened and enlarged upper arms and chest, and a loping four armed gait. Five of such creatures, and another much larger Orc waited, aligned in a circle, each with a knife drawn to the neck of a still live orc, poised as if to strike. Wind blew through the boneyard, barely stirring the thick violet mist, causing the only sound in this lonely place.

Kurtog moved ahead of the players, seemingly nervous for a spirit, and addressed the shade of his father formerly, suing for an audience for his recently arrived guests. Rusk turned to greet the newcomers, addressing them as invading orcs until his son was able to convince him of the true identities of his new companions.

Rusk showed the players the crypt of the Great Bone Lord, one of the rare and powerful Collector race, and explained his intent to sacrifice the remaining Northern Orcs to awaken this legendary creature. Kurtog spoke up, somewhat hesitantly, asking his father if he might not be waking a power far more dangerous than any Northern Orcish Raider, an issue echoed by the players. Rusk showed hesitance at this, and Cylis pushed the point home, discovering that Rusk had used his skills as a seer to ensure the intent of this sleeping creature, and knew that he was at least not intrinsically evil.

Cylis and Rin surprised Phil by agreeing with this plan of action, and the three offered their aid in performing the ritual. Rusk smiled, and called upon ancient magicks, glowing with a nearly blinding bluish light. The adventurers, accompanied by the stoic silent spirits, simultaneously slit the five invaders throats, and watched in amazement as the blood floated lazily through the air towards the prison of the Bone Lord where it began to pool in the ancient engravings that decorate the massive stone doors. Not a drop touched the ground, and as the last bright speck touched the gateway these engravings flared to life, coursing with dark eldritch energy. As Phil watched, his keen eyes were able to make out familiar shapes moving in the shadows behind the mausoleum, and quickly realized that the Longstrider children had followed them here.


Players awakened the Bone Lord, who proved to be a neutral force that owed them a boon for his awakening. Rusk mentioned intent to create an army of the undead, and the players set about convincing him otherwise, worried that this place would turn into a giant gate to the dead world without a shaman. Rusk acquiesced, but only after getting guarantees that his people would be properly protected. To insure this, he sent Kurtog and the four other silent brothers to protect the town. Shard owed the players a favor anyway, and began gathering supportive souls to help defend the city, though the group outpaced him quickly.

Players made their back north to the windswept ruins, their group strengthened by five silent monks and five longstriders.

The Sunken Tower

  The Longstriders offered to escort the PCs as far as the Sunken Tower, where they were intent upon regrouping with another hunting party for eventual travel back to their home, rumored to be somewhere south of the White Tree. Spirits were high, as these ragtag outcasts had never dreamed of felling a creature this fierce. They quickly descended into the mutated basin, following a weathered path of switchbacks beneath the cascading waterfall of the Verka river. The Basin is a riot of verdant growth, with enormous overgrown farmlands to the North, and mutated swamplands to the South, bisected neatly by the weathered Eastern Trade road.

  They reached the Broken Tower at dusk, with the setting sun at their backs. The Tower is a old, lonely place, a broken spire atop a windy plateau, surrounded by the remnants of a crumbling stone wall. The Clanless fear it to be haunted, though many use the safety of it’s courtyard for a overnight campsite. The Longstrider hunters were reunited with their tribe here, and One-Eye set about telling a somewhat exaggerated tale of their exploits. Cylis quickly caught this, and aided the storytellers with mist-shaping, and soon enough the group had the undivided attention of the entire camp, who were awestruck by the performance enacted before them. As they performed, Cylis noticed a ghostly figure watching from the shadows of the ruined tower, which he set off to investigate.

  Sounds of revelry masked the approaching zombie horde, who slowly shambled there way along the cliffside path, wearily treading the same patrol route they once had in life. Thatcher heard sounds coming from the pathway, and raised the alarm moments before the first shambler crested the rise, while the gathered host of archers took positions above the road, raining arrows down upon the slow-witted zombies. These walkers proved little challenge for the group, though their presence proved worrisome for the assembled Orcs, who fear that the bone-shaman of the White Tree may well be in danger.

  Having dispatched with the undead, the group turned to the ruins, looking to investigate the ghostly figure whom had watched their performance. The spectre was that of an elderly Aati, stooped with age, wielding a similarly ancient rifle, seemingly caught in an infinite loop, doomed to repeat his last moments for all eternity. Intrigued, the group entered the ancient ruins, discovering a well equipped mechanical workshop replete with a set of high quality engineering tools and the remains of a tattered journal, much of its contents long ago scattered to the wind.

  The journal contains the jumbled ramblings of an Aati scientist named Gyre, and his families’ stories during and after the Sundering. Gyre, his wife Lela, and their young child Adeebi were researchers in an Aati telescope facility, far from the rest of their advanced civilization. The family survived the Sundering intact, and were capable enough to provide sanctuary for a handful of other survivors they were able to rescue from the chaos. Gyre had an eye for mechaniks, and spent every waking moment scouring nearby ruins for pre-Sundering tech. His manuscript leaves detailed notes on the construction of a reinforced vehicle capable of carrying he and his child to safety. Sadly, Gyre was never able to complete his work, as he and his kin were discovered, prompting an unexpected frantic departure from his makeshift laboratory.

  The players found this manuscript, along with the remains of the vehicle, a spider shaped construct built from gleaming black metal. While investigating the machine, the players unwittingly activated the insectile construct, sending the beast on it’s long ago programmed route to the Amber City. Caught unawares, the group frantically tried to slow the mechanical beast, doing no small amount of damage in the process. The creature moved with surprising alacrity, scaling the sheer canyon walls with ease, as the players watched the campsite dwindle behind them. Phil was able to deduce the creatures command word, but not before the Spider robot had run into a Giant Slug, complete with kobold wranglers. Finally calling a halt to their unwilling joyride, the group set about aiding the hapless cohorts, and managed to charm the monstrous slug, at least in the meantime. Crisis averted, the group returned to the Sunken Tower, and made camp.

The White Tree

  The players broke camp at dawn and headed south for the White Tree. As our adventurers approached, they saw the once small graveyard that now stretched for miles past the cemetaries original border. Ramshackle fences denote each hurried expansion. New crypts brake free from the ground at regular intervals, creating the only sound in this haunted place, as the adventurers meandered their way along the ancient broken cobblestones.

  The Longstriders part ways at the first Graveyard gate, which were torn asunder as if by some herculean force. One-Eye slipped a scrap of paper with a hand-drawn map to the Longstrider Winter Camp to Ryn, who quickly pocketed the precious item. The young hunters bid reluctant farewells, casting long looks at the dark graveyard as they passed, and Shaky pulled Cylis aside and exchanged a few words before pulling his Feathered Serpent away, along the twisting road that skirts the cemetery border.

  Heavy blue mist clung to the stifling cemetery air, obscuring vision as the adventurers passed the broken gates. Phil put his tracking skills to work, revealing recent evidence of battle between Orcish Raiders and the Undead. Ryn followed these with trepidation, as the fellowship scanned row upon row of headstones for any sign of movement.

  The Cerulean mist grew thicker as the group followed the Northern animal tracks deeper within the Cemetery, and soon they came upon the border between the new Orcish graves and the assortment of foreign crypts that had sprouted from the ground, mysterious mausoleums seemingly transported from other worlds. Here the adventurers found the corpses of the Northern Raiders mounts, and signs of pitched battle between the Orcish Reavers and a host of dessicated corpses, torn to grisly bits during the melee. While their mounts were summarily slaughtered, the Orcs themselves appeared to have been dragged deeper within the Cemetery, into the maddening maze of mausoleums that had sprung up around the White Tree. The players found remains of three different creatures among the corpses, Hyena-vipers, Tusk-rats, and a single Smolderscale Drake.

  Animated corpses burst from the sodden ground the moment our heroes crossed the threshold of the old graveyard; dessicated Orcish zombies clawed through the soft ground, shambling towards the group with murderous intent. They were joined by smoldering skeletons, souls incinerated by the Smolderdrakes, restless spirits forever filled with burning rage over their untimely deaths.

  The group steeled themselves, gathered their will, and prepared for the onslaught, as dozens of the undead swarmed upon them. Phil drew his bow, while Ryn called upon the Fury of the Ancients, growing to mountainous size. The savage Lobex charged through the milling mass of zombies, crushing them beneath his massive fists. Cylis summoned forth a shadowy protector from the mist, who positioned himself between the walking dead and his vaporous master.

  The shambling horde proved little match for our heroes, though each charred skeleton that fell exploded into fiery shards, burning any unlucky enough to share close proximity. For each that fell, two more clawed there way above ground, and the group began searching the shadows, for sign of escape. Cylis spied a dark figure, hiding at the edge of the battlefield, a fresh corpse seemingly possessed by the undead. This cadaver bore markings of the Laughing Serpents, though he watched the proceedings with an imperious air, and the glowing eyes of a Spectre.

  Cylis caught the creature unaware, summoning a giant shadow-elemental who surprised the corpse, catching the spectre and holding it fast in it’s massive vaporous fists. Ryn and Phil redoubled their efforts, fighting back the zombie horde, as Cylis attempted to parley with the captured ghost, whose glowing eyes portrayed more intelligence than any of the corpses seen here-to-fore. A few brief words awoke the spectre as if from a dream; the creature seemed astonished as to the presence of these foreigners, and seemed surprised that they were not more Northern Raiders. As the spirit regained it’s senses, the shambling corpses lost their will to fight, and slowly returned to their graves.

  The possessed Laughing Serpent introduced himself as Kurtog The Fist, a renowned warrior and son of Warchief Rusk. Kurtog had died during The War of The Clans, and had returned as a spirit following his interment beneath the White Tree. Kurtog informed the group that he was one of many spirits awakened by the Northern Reavers, spirits who were provoked by the presence of these Orcish Invaders, and who were bound by their fateful deaths to forever haunt this forsaken place. These were the souls of the Leapers tribal council, killed by treachery before the War, and they had taken the bodies of the Northern Orcs as their own, one by one. Now his father held the few remaining Northern survivors in preparation for a blood sacrifice, payment to awaken an ancient power brought to this place in a crypt from another world.

  Once the group ensured Kurtog of their intent, the body-snatcher confided in the players, admitting his fear that his father might have gone too far in awakening an ancient mysterious power. Kurtog dismissed his army of the dead, and lead the players to the base of the White Tree…

Hey Shook

The Hydra Den

  Our intrepid adventurers survived their initial encounter with the mutant Hydra, rescuing the ambushed Longstrider Elder and his hapless hunters. These young Orcish hunters were pursuing game for their naming ceremony, hoping to outmatch competing clansmen for the most impressive kill.

  The group pursued this new task with enthusiasm, tracking the iridescent hydra back to it’s sunken swamp lair, where they found a family of the creatures, all touched by mutation. Thatcher became lost while tracking, but stumbled upon a shortcut that took him to the lair much faster than his companions, where he unwittingly found the Hydra-spawn pouring from the mouth of a sunken structure.

  Ryn was oblivious to the voracious creatures, their sharp teeth unable to penetrate the tough barbarian’s hide. He stood amongst the swarm for nearly a minute before noticing the wriggling creatures beneath the murky mire’s surface. Ryn raged upon their discovery, growing to mountainous size, and proceeded to stomp on the creatures, which retreated into the depths of the sinking building. He then pursued the creatures inside the collapsing market, and put his razorsharp claws to the task of sundering the crumbling floor, hoping to create a faster pathway to his enemies. Luck was not on his side, as the sagging floor was concealing a poisonous gas bubble, which quickly flooded the room. Reluctantly, the barbarian retreated, waiting for the help of his comrades.

  Once his compatriots had arrived, the group set a trap for the creatures, aligning their many archers along the bank of the swamp. Cylis was able to discern the creatures locations using his powers over the Mist, and made psychic contact with the adult Hydra, challenging it to combat, and drawing the beast into the open. The Hydra’s progeny fled, unable to withstand the mental assault brought on by the Awakened, but the adult stayed, determined to avenge it’s mate.

  The rune-scarred Hydra burst through the failing floor with lightning speed, and bore down upon the barbarian, latching on to the huge wolf-man with multiple poisonous heads. Thatcher was lost to the rage, pain a distant voice in the back of his mind, and tore into the draconic mutant with reckless abandon, matching the beasts ferocity with his own.

  No amount of planning could prepare the inexperienced Longstriders for a creature of this magnitude, and the young archers faltered upon it’s brutal charge. They quickly rallied under the trained eye of , whose lightning quick reflexes landed arrow after arrow in the unsuspecting beasts tough hide. Following the veterans lead, the shaken hunters managed to pepper the beast with arrows, though few hit their mark. Cylis put the finishing touches on the ailing creature, directly assaulting the Hydras mind with psychic power, destroying it’s mind with a single massive spike of psychic power. The beast twitched, shuddered, and fell dead on the spot. The exuberant hunters gathered their prize, and set out for the Sunken Tower.

Welcome to your campaign!
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1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

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A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.

Meeting at the Crossroads

  Our adventure begins at the Crossroads of The Cauldron, on the first day of spring, as merchants from far-flung locations in The Cauldron make their way to the largest neutral trading post in the Shard. These traders braved the last Skitterswarms of the season for first pick of the available stalls, as competition is stiff at the Crossroads Bazaar.

  A handful of eager Orc farmers, and a solitary Lobex blacksmith arrived first, and had only begun to assemble their stalls when they were interrupted by a deafening crash from the North, as the ancient bridge to the northern road collapsed beneath the weight of an Aati caravan.

  This caravan belongs to Tuli a proud member of the Aati Trade Guild, and driven by Hod, a dog-faced veteran of the The War of The Clans. Tuli and Hod experienced a harrowing journey south, as the Northern Orcish Clans had began quietly infiltrating the Ironwood Forest, while launching clandestine raids on unexpecting trade caravans. The Aati Trade Guild lost two such caravans this winter, and sent a retinue of veteran guards to protect the lone wagon on it’s prolonged journey south, lead by the master marksman PHIL. The caravan was joined by the wandering Lobex Barbarian, Ryn, who agreed to help defend the beleaguered caravan for a modest fee.

  Hod had been on edge for most of the journey, having survived numerous small skirmishes with Northern Orcs, and was convinced that he would not survive the journey to the Crossroads. Hod felt the bridge giving way, and attempted to push his Thunderers across the crumbling bridge, only to be caught halfway, teetering ponderously over the brink of the dry river they had been crossing. Phil threw himself free from the sliding cart, tumbling to the ground with surprising grace, and notched an arrow, surveying his rocky surroundings for signs of a foe. His keen eyes made out two diminutive figures crouched beneath the canyon cliff, seemingly huddled in fright. Ryn threw himself behind the sliding cart, calling upon the strength of his draconic ancestors, and heaved the tipsy cart over the edge of the crumbling bridge, to safety.

  As the startled caravan guards took stock of their situation, an ethereal figure appeared from the South, seemingly floating on the wind itself. The creature was shaped from mist itself, man sized, with evershifting features and a breastplate crafted from scintillating crystals, designed in beautiful geometric patterns. Where the creature pointed, the mist followed, forming into shadowy, vaporous creatures, who moved to surround the shadowy figures hiding beneath the canyon cliff. These mist-forms coalesced into hulking feline beasts, similar to the Canyon Stalkers Kathrams, who approached the shadowy cleft with all the savage grace of their living counterparts.

  From the shadows burst two young Orcs, who scrambled up the sheer cliff wall in seeming terror. The Mist-creature followed, with the Aati archer and Lobex barbarian close at his heels, but the children stopped fast, frozen in horror, eyes locked on the distant black swarm pouring from a cave to the North. The Mist-creature followed it’s gaze, noticed the vast Skitterswarm, and raised the alarm, contacting both the caravan and the Crossroads simultaneously.

  The Caravan was soon joined by the few early traders who had preceded them to the Crossroads, a huge Orc name Nurl, his son Wog, and a host of Nurls children. The only other attendee thus far was an elderly Lobex blacksmith named Aslak. Introductions were exchanged, the mysterious mist-creature introduced himself as Cylan, and insured the frightened folk that he was indeed here to help. Nurl was quick to point out the peculiarity of a daytime swarm attack, and mentioned fear that the traditional methods might not suffice. Fearing just such an event, the worried travellers decided to flee for the Bone Maze, preferring to face it’s unknown dangers to consumption by the ravenous swarm. Nurl gathered all the collected Thunderers, along with Tusk a mysterious Orcish traveller who had arrived with Cylis. The two experienced riders corralled the mighty beasts, children in tow, stampeding their way towards the distant entrance of the Bone Maze, as the dark cloud of Skitterlings descended inexorably towards them.

The Aati archer and Cylis soon realized that they would not outrun the swarm, and held their ground, hoping to buy the fleeing children enough time to make the Maze, as the marksmen readied his bow, and Cylis summoned more vaporous Kathrams from deep within the Mist. A seething, chittering mass of voracious insects descended on these savage mist-elementals, who stemmed the black insect tide long enough for Cylis and the Archer to retreat to the entrance to the Bone Maze. The swarm hounded their every footstep, and Cylis only reached the door moments before being overtaken by the chittering horde. As they set foot inside, the bleached bone wall knit together behind them, showing no sign that there had ever been a door. A long, dark hallway made from the bones of a multitude of creatures beckons the stranded travellers…



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