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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2017 11:21 am 

Joined: Sat May 06, 2017 6:23 am
Posts: 1
FLGS: Weird Realms, in Cleveland Ohio
we generally play on Thursdays at WEIRD REALMS ( the corner of w115th and lorain.
a varying number of people arrive each time, anywhere from 4 to 10 or 11, out of a pool of 16 people or so. we play a modified "west marches" style campaign

...One evening at the keep on the borderlands

band of adventurers:
brendan sedlak: SEBORRAGE: lvl2 chaotic cleric, convert of Bobugbubilz
Cheynt: lvl2 chaotic ranger
(john): lvl1 chaotic elf
Galaga: lvl1 neutral cleric

full rundown

I announced I had 5 min of town business to conduct before we resumed our exploration of the caves. just 5 minutes worth. I looked around, got acquainted with the layout of the keep, rented a bed at the inn, and then made my way to the tavern-- i decided to buy a militia member an ale.

I was just being friendly. I bought him an ale, and told him that I appreciated his work keeping the town safe, that the previous town I was affiliated with had a large problem with cultists and it felt good to be in a town that was protected. He seemed suspicious but thanked me and drank up.

Then, the session took a turn for the weird. I had an invasive Bobugbubilz vision, where he reprimanded me, in a series of croaks and stares, for not having the chaotic cleric symbol displayed properly on my body, he thought I was ashamed of my religion, and didn't understand (or didn't care) about the long term value of getting some of the militia members on my side. He told me none of my clerical abilities would work until I gave a sermon at the town fountain.

So, while I prepared for my sermon, the other members of the group conducted some business, and were more or less thrown out of every shop for attempting to purchase stuff with fake gold. Dejected, Cheynt decided to gamble his gold away in the hopes he could launder it.

Just before I was set to deliver my sermon, I asked the other party members to attend. Galaga the neutral cleric agreed because he was interested in different points of view. Cheynt said "sure", but he ended up gambling the whole time. I then approached the chaotic elf in our group, and offered her an enlarge spell, and told her she could keep the spell if she cast it on me during the climax of the sermon. I had a lot of loose pages from a spell book shoved into my backpack-- in the previous session, I was able to convert a talented and up and coming wizard to the religion of Bobugbubilz, the toad fiend. Unfortunately he met an untimely end shortly thereafter. Anyways, she agreed. Then she immediately rented a bed in the inn and went to sleep-- never trust elves!

I delivered my sermon to the town:
This sermon was prepared by a traitor to his race. It is dedicated to bigots everywhere. Ladies and gentleman of the swamp, I call upon you to unite, to strike with claws and kitchen pokers, to burn the grub-worms of humanities brood with sulfur and oil, to huddle together whispering about the silverfish in your basements. to make decrees in your great solemn rotten assemblies concerning what is proper, for you have nothing to lose but your last feeble principles! Bobugbubilzzzzzzz

it was pretty inspiring (i rolled a natural 19 on the personality check), and it was so inspiring in fact, that it triggered revulsion from a number of townspeople, and it also inspired six or so ordinary townspeople to rise up against the keep and to begin attacking the militia. in the chaos, i somehow was able to escape. jump off the drawbridge before they could close the gate, landing in the moat, and then, summoning divine aid, frog jump out of the moat and into the woods. only taking one point of damage (half my life, unfortunately I only have 3 stamina).

the townspeople who rose up in revolt were slaughtered (all 6 killed), and one militia member was also killed in the fighting.

just after this time, the elf woke up to see what the fracas was about.

as he was moving about inside the inn, someone who cheynt had gambled with, and given fake gold to, started some sh*t with him, grabbing him by the throat. cheynt stabbed him (which was in my opinion self defense) and a general bar fight ensued. the elf was getting ready to light the place up with a burning hands spell-- which could have severely devastated the keep as most of the houses were like, made with straw roofs, but sadly it fizzled and didn't cast. cheynt was then KILLED, but luckily was found to be merely stunned when he was rolled over, and eventually the guards arrived and arrested everyone and put cheynt in the keep. in the confusion, the chaotic elf made it out of the inn melee and into the safety of the forest.

cheynt attempted the classic punk strategy of denying everything (he’s a 13 year old bastard from the 80s who was sucked into this fantasy realm and has been scowling the whole time), and it seemed to be working until the lord protector high cleric of the keep walked in (was this prospero?), and used lawful cleric prayers to force cheynt to tell the truth. after hearing everything, he then sentenced cheynt to be executed.

while his head was being placed in the noose, cheynt boldly asserted that he hated his dad. and then, strangely, a silvery mist began forming around marty the neutral cleric's hands and around cheynt's body, and cheynt went straight as a board (light as a feather). many in the audience of the public execution became alarmed, suspecting (accurately) that black magic was responsible. Galaga the neutral cleric volunteered to get cheynt out of the keep before anyone was harmed, and heroically threw the paralyzed cheynt into the moat. Seconds afterwards, cheynt began swimming like a porpoise. the guards, outraged, turned on Galaga the neutral cleric, and tried grabbing him and firing arrows at them both, but somehow, after leaping into the moat and making a swim for it, they made it to the safety of the woods.

in the woods, we caught up with each other, surprised we were all still somehow alive.

I was kind of angry at the elf. “why didn’t you case enlarge on me like I asked! I gave you the spell!”, I said. “oh right, you’re acting like you’re doing me a favor, ‘here’s a spell, cast it on seborrage!’ no thanks!”” she replied. “i was doing you a favor!! you could have added it to your spell book and cast it whenever you wanted!!!”, i replied.

I guess we were making so much noise at this opint that we attracted the attention of bandits. I was down to 1 hit point (i have a wretched stamina of 3). Cheynt, was down to 2. we were in no position to fight back really, a lot of us also burned quite a bit of luck trying to make it out of the inn, the execution, and the keep in one piece. they argued with us over gold, and then struck and killed cheynt. nooo! we fought back, and during the fight i hobbled over to cheynt's body, as his life blood was draining out of his small misshapen demented boy scout limbs, i laid hands on him (and rolled a natural 20!), and as i chanted “Bobugbubilzzzz”, a swarm of red worms began wriggling out of the blood soaked soil, into the holes in his flesh, into his skin and under his eyelids. the bandits and other adventurers watched in horror as they slithered under his skin and through his blood vessels, and, as if my magic, leaving bright pink new skin in place of his lacerations and bruises. suddenly, with a gasp, and a cough that sprayed now-translucent worms onto the ground, he came back to life! the fight resumed, and a short time later we had dispatched one and severely injured the other bandits, and they scattered into the woods.

cheynt is a whiney bastard. but he’s a dead shot with pretty much any ranged weapon. one time i saw him kill an old man with a quarter. it pains me to say this, but we need him.

delighted we survived, and now, deciding that we were more or less woods bandits, we decided to make camp.

however, the story does not end happily for everyone.

the uprising at the keep directly affected a vulnerable child. her parents were two of the six peasants killed by militia members. this orphan, beatrix flaxsmith, needed her mother and father's guidance most right now. she has some bizarre... talents. and... the visions, the feelings, are becoming a little too much for her to handle alone. her parents were helping her focus on the love and kindness in this realm, but now her existence has been thrown into deep confusion and pain. cast out of her small room in the inn, she spends her days begging on the streets, eating garbage. and her thoughts are only for her parents, for the others killed by the militia, to the person that incited the whole mess to begin with. for justice. for vengeance! for revenge!! and strangely, the more she nourishes these thoughts, the more she sees her talents grow.

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