Category: Western Borders

While discussing breaching the walls, Pickles brings up that when they’d last spoken with the kobolds they spoke of a back entrance tunnel. This is kept in mind as a backup plan should entering through the gatehouse is not feasible.

Pickles sneaks up the rubble pile wall and finds that the courtyard is empty and that the doors to the gatehouse is closed. Pickles clumsily sneaks onto the tower. Surveying from the roof, Pickles sees beyond the wall and through the trees two squat, damaged towers. He can hear the sounds of orc-speech. Listening closer, he hears one of the orcs lecturing the others, the gist being: “the boss is upset that the big one is dead, we’ll stay here until we figure out what to do next.” Some other orcs (3-4) are angry about being taken off guard duty and put on patrol now that the ogre is gone – they enjoyed watching goblins excavate. Having heard all that, Pickles returns.

We have a few options: attack the orcs in the diamond room, ambush the patrolling orcs, sneak past the wall. Pickles suggests setting the rafters of the gatehouse on fire to serve as a distraction and to learn the numbers. Pickles admits that as a littleling his prone-ness to making chaos for others and Obroam and I admonish him and suggest he learn the wisdoms of either Tangodorin or Tyr.

Pickles sneaks into the gatehouse again. He peers into the diamond room and sees two orcish figures watching the hallways. Pickles reports that the orcs are watching both hallways but in positions where they cannot see into the courtyard. The front doors are locked and they are watching the entrances from the wings. 

While Pickles is away getting into position for the attack on the gatehouse, kobolds encircle us. They ask us what we’re doing and Rem and I translate for Obroam and the kobolds. Obroam bribes the kobolds with food so they’ll leave us alone. He gives them all of his rations. The kobolds fight over the food and we get back to work making the battering ram. My dagger breaks while using it to trim the tree to make into a battering ram. The kobolds describe humans with black robes and green, scary masks beyond the wall. 

We finally bash down the door and charge into the room for the attack. Once the one orc is left standing, he shouts that his “soul will be taken by Moloch.” So Moloch is, indeed, their dark god. Rem strikes down the last orc. [Weapon Speed!] Pickles finds 49 gp 133 sp, a small bluish gem and a blood-colored gem on the dead orcs. The orc who’d had a gem carried a whistle and a set of keys. Mort had been badly injured in the fight, so I cast cure light wounds on him and Obroam lays his hands on him, glowing with the light off Tangodorin.

We returned to the dilapidated fort to continue our efforts of cleansing the ruin of the foul beings that inhabit it. Our parties scout Pickles reconnoitered the grounds and sure enough guards had been replaced. Two goblins in the courtyard, two in the tower, and two Orcs in the doorway to the complex proper. In addition, he learned that at least eight goblins laired in the western wing of the facility. With a direct route blocked, we had to be a bit more inventive with out entrance. While it was suggested we drop in on the goblin barracks, I had a more tactical idea. We would sneak into the fort via the west wings roof, into the room which we did battle in a few days ago as it was empty. While we were successful, we were almost noticed, but luck was on our side and we set up in the east wing.

Now inside, we had to come up with a plan of how to deal with the current guards. Pickles had the brilliant idea of dressing as a goblin and taunting the orcs to lure them into ambush where we lay in wait. After putting on a bit of armor and dirtying himself up, he snuck down the hall and lured our foes to us. A short skirmish followed as the orcs took the bait. We then followed this ruse with yet another, Pickles bellowed out into the yard for the goblins to come inside. These foes were also slain in short order. Tangadorin’s blessings surely light our way. 

With no more outside guards to worry about, our troop entered the west wing. A couple of goblins who were mining our a celler came to see what was going on, and with quick word play, sent back to their tasks. At the end of the hall a ruckus spilled forth from a side room. As we entered we saw a large insect of some type attacking three goblins in what appeared to be a kitchen. As Mort and I entered to deal with both parties, Pickles had another bright idea, he chalked the door to the goblin warren shut, giving us time to mop up. Following this, banging was heard from the door and voices of goblins yelling to be let out. With the goblins contianed, we decided to use more unconventional tactics to deal with them. Pickles climbed to the roof to attack from the collapse sections with his sling while our Wizard, Rom, poured oil under the door and lit it. After a minute or so of screaming and the door burning to cinders, I charged into the room with the others in tow. While we did fell most of them one did manage to stick me in the thigh, I wish i had a replacement shield. And to top it off, those miner goblins fled during the wrapping up of their comrades. 

Two of the goblins surrendered to our group and were thus questioned. They appear to be labor for these Orcs and Dark Ones. It also seems these creatures see us as members of the Dark Ones and not intruders, very odd, but they dont seem to be very bright. With little gained from the questioning, the group moved to slay the goblins, even though they had become our prisoners. One was slain by Mort before i could stop him but i prevented the others from slaying the last pitiful creature. Goblin or no it had surrendered and thus would be treated with some decorum. The little creature was terrified and clung to my leg in hopes I would continue to protect it from my team.

Lastly Mort and Pickles search the room, finding some coin on the goblins and a chest that they were trying to get into. Our Littleling was able to crack the lock and gain the contents of the chest. Some coins, a scroll case, several fine crossbow bolts, and a suit of scale mail. Given the age of the chest, and the lack of rust and corrosion on the metal inside, perhaps their is more to these items than meets the eye?

We traveled to the castle spoken of by both the sheriff and the kobolds, or more correctly what was left of one. Nature had reclaimed the perimeter and had begun to take the inner walls as well. Crumbling walls, tight vegetation and shadows are all we saw upon a first glance. Pickles took to a tree to gain a higher vantage point and see what there was to see over the walls, while Mort sent one of this rodents to look inside an arrow slit, both forms of reconnaissance proved less than useful. So, deciding on being direct, our party entered through the front gate. Pickles still being stealthy, informed us of goblins in the crumbling wall tower, we entered boldly and slew the two vile creatures within though not before they gave out a shriek. As Mort and Fascul, looted the bodies, I stood guard at the door in case more heard the screams. Sure enough they had, but with some quick word play on Pickles part, they were dissuaded and didnt investigate very much. Im finding this littlelings abilitys more and more useful by the day. 

As we continued on, we crept along an inner courtyard wall to the main doors. Inside, pickles described a diamond shaped room with Kobolds working to clear the place of debris and dirt. Our group decided to enter as though we belonged, on the pretense that we were here to help the kobolds deal with the goblins. The gambit worked, the kobolds seemed unbothered by our presence and even directed us to the nearest goblins in the eastern wing of the ruin. Pickles and Mort slew two of them on a ruined stair with little issue since they were sleeping while on duty.

We then proceeded down the a hall, checking a few rooms before finding a room with more than just goblins, a bugbear was with them as well. We choose a plan of attack to volley the bugbear as a whole before dealing the the goblins. A short skirmish followed, with Pickles being downed by a stocky goblin with a curved blade and that Bugbear shattering my shield. But we prevailed, I slew the Bugbear after it over swung trying to finish me, in addition i took the stocky goblins life as well as it refused to surrender. Mort, though claiming the be a wizard finished off the last two goblins with that club of his, he could make a decent fighter if he tried.

After the fighting we looted the bodies and I healed pickles as much as I could. As we made our way to leave this ruin and see to our wounds, we heard more goblins from the northern door in the diamond chamber. Pickles ran and hid as the rest of us took to taking cover with the doorways walls. As we listened, we heard only two voices and thought to take only two goblins by surprise before making our final leave. However, while it was only two speaking, it was four of them in total. Not the best odds given my injuries. But by working together we slew them all, though Mort did take a wound. The way he swings that club of his makes me think there is more to this strange man than meets the eye. With the goblins dead, we had one more clever trick up our sleeves. We positioned the bodies as if they had attacked each other to throw off any would be investigations. 

We took our leave of that ruin finally, having dealt a blow to the dark beings that dwell within. A half days journey later and camp was made. Our cleric of Tyr, Egill Thorinson, did well in healing Mort and Pickles before we bedded down. Two days have passed, and with Tangadorin’s Light, and a little help from Egill, I am whole once more. We are now headed back to the ruin to continue our efforts in cleansing the ruin of its goblin, orcish and Dark One’s, by Tagadorin’s Light we shall see to the heart of this matter. 

A few days have passed since our encounter and dealings with the Kobolds. Our company is in Gireford once more, replenishing supplies, receiving healing from the temple, and preparing once more to head back out to the hive of villainy.  While in town we spoke again with the Sheriff, who seemed most interested in out dealings and goings. He informed us in what details he could about the castle atop the hill, saying it was an old fort of the realm that had been used by the orcs in the past as a stronghold.

His concern was noted and we decided that we should reconnoiter the outpost while he sent off to the Marshal for actual troops. I also suggested that we attempt to camouflage ourselves using paints and cloaks that looked like the wildlife around ourselves if we wanted to watch and not be seen. This took a couple of days.

In the mean while, the rest of my companions ate, drank, and told stories of their exploits over the kobolds. I on the other hand, spent time with the priestess Mylla. She had been curious about me, my god, and “pagans” in general. She is a bright young girl, and the search to know more is pleasing in Tangadorins sight, so i indulged her. First I told her of our encounters with the kobolds and how they were cowed by our cleirc and even chittered about the dark ones. Mylla suggested that they were referring to worshipers of that True Darkness that brought the Doom to our world before, i pray she is wrong.

After, I spoke of how Tangadorin found me as a wayward sot, penniless and lazy. My gods edicts and tenets. But in turn she also spoke, about how since the old high priest had passed, she was to be the new high priestess, save that she was not powerful enough in the light for said position and an outside priest was brought in to lead this following. She was eager to learn more, be more, see more. I told her all things are possible within the light, to never give up on her hopes and dreams and one day, she would reach what she sought.

The hour grows late now, and i must rest, for in the morning, we march back to that overgrown hillet. May Tangadorin’s light shine our way to the heart of this matter. 

4th Day of Autumn, 59 Ad

Our group traveled into the wilderness to find the lair of the loathsome kobolds. In our search, we tracked their trails to a collapsed tower covered in overgrowth, scattered coins leading us to a dug out cellar to the ancient structure. We ventured into the dark to find our quarry, and were not disappointed. The lair was a series of tunnels with cracks in them, through which the vermin attacked. Tossing bottles of flaming oil at us, their attacks were in vain as our mettle stood strong.

After regrouping in their kitchen for lack of better words, we did battle once more, with Golani slaying three of them, but this time Corvin cowed them into retreating by bearing that symbol of his god aloft. After searching a bit more, our group decided that there was more to be gained from tricking the creatures into speaking to us than slaying them all, and so they were right. With Pickles acting as a translator, we spoke with the Kobold leader and learned that these were merely a labor force for Orcs and “Dark Ones” in the castle beyond the hill, and they they were only attacking the caravans because the orcs were leaving them with little to no food.

After a bit of discussion, we struck a deal, we “deal with” the orcs and they stop attacking the Caravans. While I didn’t like dealing with these creatures, they are but a symptom. The cause lies in the castle, and i shall bring Tangadorin’s Light to these “Dark Ones”.

1st day of Autumn, 59 AD

It is evening now, our party has continued on our way to Gireford in hopes of receiving further treatment for our wounds. As the others busy themselves with camp for, I reflect on the happenings of the day. Shortly after the craven ambush set by those vilesome kobolds, a stranger happened by. A tall woman with an ax going by the name Golani, she seemed interested in our groups predicament and offered to travel with us to town. Whether her concern was genuine, or possibly the meager loot off the kobolds was what caught her eye, I do not know. Time and Tangadorin’s light shall reveal what I need to know. I shall away to sleep now, the campfire grows cold. 

2nd Day of Autumn, 59A AD

Our travel to the village of Gireford was uneventful, praise be to Tangadorin’s Light. Upon our arrival our group split up to see to their own needs. The traders York and Terry offered to use their goodwill in the town to garner us healing at the local chapel of the Church of the Light, but they first had to set about off loading their goods. In the mean while I went to see the local blacksmith about cleaning and sharpening my blade as my whetstone only does so much good in the field. Brandis the smith was a larger man, busy with his work, his wife Nadine saw to my blades cleaning and did splendid work. After some small talk, they were surprised at our groups entry into the town. Apparently we are the only people to come by in two tendays. I told the couple of our travels and the ambush, this seemed to worry them. They suggested i speak with their Sheriff, Strak as hes is know by, about the attacks and the fact that those miserable Kobolds had ORC Weapons! Now it makes sense how the little buggers were able to harm me. 

After my time at the smithy, I went to meet up with York, Terry, and Fascul at the temple. A decent building given the towns small size. Inside we were introduced to Priestess Mylla, a soft spoken young woman. After she used her blessings upon Fascul and myself, I thanked her and used the powers of my of God to finish healing what little damage remained. This seemed to surprise the young lady as she looked at me in wide eyed wonder and called ma a pagan. I took no offence as such statements are correct according to their doctrine. She seemed eager to learn more about me and my god, a joyous thing indeed, but that shall have to wait as a darkness has stretched its arm across the land, and has gripped the local countryside with fear. Fascul seems as eager as I to track down the Kobolds and deal with the vermin ones and for all, I am liking him more and more.

To my surprise, Golani and Pickles were both at the Sheriffs office, also seeking to inform them about the attack. Stark seemed interested and concerned about the ambush and the orcish weapons we found on the corpses. We spoke on the lack of traders, towns folk or any other travelers short of us, all the more worrying. He told us he needed to send word to the Duke right away, but that we were free to investigate as we see fit. After regrouping in a local tavern, all of my fellows seem eager to track down the Kobolds. Whether its for potential profit, revenge, or to do whats right, each seems motivated. The lady Golani wants to gain glory and renown, a noble venture if used to bring light into the world and cast out the darkness. I think she will prove as stalwart a companion as Fascul. A final note before I offer my final prayers of the day. That vagrant Mort….I cannot get a clear read off of him. IN addition to the fact that he can somehow talk to animals…..or at least claims to be able to do so. He seems to lack any decorum, schooling, training, the ability to speak clearly, or basic hygiene….and yet……and yet there is something about him…..I cannot place it. I shall continue to keep an eye on him.

54th day of Summer, 59 AD

I travel towards a small village, Gireford. Two merchants, Terry and York, have collected and odd assortment of travelers and myself for protection on the road. The merchants seem amiable enough, though me fellow travelers are perhaps a little odd. Firstly there is Mort, a filthy and destitute looking individual who seems to care more for animals than his fellow man, he is to be watched. Next is Fascul, skilled with both bow and blade, i find him the most relatable as his martial training is something we have in common. Corvin is a priest of some god ive not heard of, Yorkai, and speaks of this “White Door” and the sanctity of death. While not a servant of Tangadorin, Bringer of Light, he has been of aid in healing wounds and giving insight. Perhaps our different religions will not cause strife. Karl travels light, but that is typical of elves, his skill with a bow should come in handy, assuming he can keep his arrogance in check. Lastly is Pickles the Littleling, odd name, but he seems harmless enough. His usefulness has yet to be seen. 

1st day of Autumn, 59 AD

We were attacked on the road by loathsome cowardly Kobold’s! Firing upon our caravan from the trees, they slew one horse outright  and continued their attacks as we approached. Pickles hid behind the felled horse while Fascul, Karl and I approached the trees to do battle with the vermin. Mort, the vagrant, spent his time making sure the horses were safe. Terry the merchant fled while, surprisingly, York came to aid our attack, i commended his bravery given his occupation. While many of use were wounded, including myself. Though only due to surprise and numbers did they harm my person, we were able to fend them off, slaying the majority of them. Using my gods grace, I tended to my wounds while Corvin healed Karl. We are regrouping now and well continue on to Gireford shortly, the loss of one horse and personal injuries might slow us down a bit though. 

by Karlonai

Since the day my parents kicked me out of the tree and told me to go find my fortune, life has been pretty boring, I’ll tell you. I didn’t want to start picking pockets in that big human city. What if I got caught? A life sentence in some stone prison can be pretty grim for an elf, and you’d better believe it. Didn’t want to report in to the Thieves’ Guild, either; they can be even more nasty, at least in the short term.

The most interesting thing that happened to me was meeting up with a bunch of strangers, mostly humans. There was a smelly guy dressed in skins and carrying a stick and calling himself a great warrior and a lover of nature. What do humans know of nature? Another was some dude hiding inside armour and being self-righteously smug about his religion. There was another fighter-type called Fascul Jott in all his polished protection. He was a little more interesting, not so much of a prig. Then there was Corvin, Mr. Religion himself. Touting some artificial god and trying to convert me all the time. Maybe some day he’ll see the light. Lastly there was another elf who calls himself Pickles. Not a real elf name, is it? He says he’s a thief, and he’s serious about it. Well, at least I can talk to him.

The bunch of us ended up doing escort duty for a “caravan.” Not much of a caravan either. Two merchants, York and Terry, and four pack horses. We’re not even getting paid; we “just happen to be going their way.” They told us that merchants attract bandits, and we can have whatever loot the bandits have on their persons, once we dispatch them. I can’t wait. (Yawn!) What loot do you get from bandits that haven’t been successful yet?

So we were almost at our destination and nothing had happened. Just walking and talking. Dull to the eyebrows. Then one of the horses gets himself shot and we’re being peppered by some little dog-men with crude bows. One of them shot me, and that hurt! Not really happy-making. So I shot him back and did him a treat. I shot another couple out of the trees while the big iron-clads set to stomping the rest of them. Even York, the merchant, got involved. I swear I heard the clink of chain-mail from him, that sound when it’s belted up at the waist. Presumably he’s wearing it under his robes.

The rest of the little dog-men just ran off. Piff! I was just starting to enjoy myself, and it was all over.