Scott's Council of Thieves Campaign

The Play is the Thing
How dangerous can a "Murderplay" be?
“They fight the filthy ones! They fight them to their deaths in the old parego. Serves them right, too, all those races are corrupted and want to rule our worlds – our rightful realm!”

  • * *

They fell quickly, to the sword of Grenna, the arrows of Kyra, the hidden blades of Ruvin, the hoofs of Sifna’s beast and the magicks of Walter Pennyworth. The jailers, the slavers that were readying the fighting pit for the evening’s entertainment, their blood flowed in the dusty sand. In each cell, a fey, magical, or half-blooded creatures stared out, terrified, but hopeful of rescue.

Grenna tore the cage’s door from its hinges.

“Come. You are free.”

“Where do we go?” said the patriarch of the elven family, his fair eyes glinting the shafts of sunlight beaming in from cracks in the warehouse’s walls.

“We’ll get you out,” said Kyra confidently, before remembering how difficult getting in was. She looked at the members of the party, looking for approval. She was greeted with looks of consternation. Getting them out might not be as simple a task as they thought…as long as the guards didn’t wake up soon.

Kyra knew it would be up to her, and her spellbook, the old tome that had been a gift from her Elders when she had come of age, its yellow and leathery pages which held the runes, glyphs she had transcribed as her own knowledge grew. She turned to it – there must be something in here that can help an escape. Yes, she thought, this should do nicely.

“Come in close, everyone, it’s time to get out of here.”

Under the cover of concealment magics, they left the fighting pit and warehouse, where so many had been cut down – proud they had rescued these poor creatures, and emboldened by their growing fame as Westcrown liberators, it barely crossed their mind that their notoriety was growing, too.

And by freeing these captors, they had made a new, powerful enemy as well.

  • * *

“I want to introduce you to Ailyn Ghontasavos,” Arael said. The party was back at the abandoned shrine that had become the headquarters of the Red Dawn, dining on the roast ox someone had prepared in the makeshift kitchen behind the alter. The shrine’s population seemed to be growing, as the Red Dawn’s mission spread, somehow the secret of where the Red Dawn was operating, seemed to be less well-kept.

From the shadows stepped out a tall woman, with long flowing black hair tied tightly behind her, dark, incisive eyes, and a face which seemed to have seen several ages – or at least several miles. Grenna knew it was not combat which aged this woman, but almost as if heavy knowledges were her burden.

“I am a member of the Pathfinder lodge in Absalom,” she paused to see if any recognized the name of the ancient cabal of truth-seekers. One did, but he hit it well.“And I am here to seek your help. Your deeds have not gone un-noticed.”

Sifnas adjusted himself in his seat, hoping the ill stink of horse which permeated his armor did not offend this beautiful woman.

“I am here on a mission, to

Assault on The Bastards of Erebus

2 fights

killed palaveen and dravano (boss fight, died like punks to the butler’s mace and a horse)

+1 fame pointDravanothe digger
milky brown potion not identified
holy symbol of asmodeus
chest and key
2 pouches
50 wooden coins
stolen goods
gems worth 500
jewelry 800 (given to heirs)
short sword bejeweled 150
rapier masterwork
pearl 100

Excerpt from Kyra's Journal 1

I am glad we rescued Arael. None of my new found allies seem up to challenges of leading the Red Dawn. Janiven could one day, when she becomes more confident in her own abilities; confidence comes with experience.

I have little luck when it comes to social graces, and good looks can only get you so far. Perhaps I could invest some time in enchanting… though the loyalties gained would be far from genuine. Ruvin is set upon seeking revenge for his parents’ murder. His life must be full of loss living among humans. I am not sure he is capable of making friends or trusting others, but he has given me and Sifnas access to his home. Perhaps his trust is reserved for other elves.

Eb0911ex 99899Grenna is a living contradiction. Perhaps my mistrust is based on her half-orc heritage but she wants to fight when we can talk and wants to talk when we should fight. Walter has a vendetta on Westcrown itself, or at least its ruling families. He hides his disability well; I’ve noticed he was unaffected by the shrieker mushrooms in the sewers and tends to focus intently on my mouth as I speak.

Cheliax is completely alien to Sifnas. I’m sure life in the Mwangi Expanse would have its challenges, but Sifnas is like a child when it comes to life in “civilized” lands (if you can call the Wescrani particularly civil). After his arrival and our departure from the Barrow Wood, Sifnas promised to protect me, I suppose I can protect him from social predators.

I’m beginning to believe Janiven and Arael when they say the city guard do not protect the population and look to their own interests. I’ve heard about but do not yet understand the convoluted system of bribery the guard engage in. The people must see to their own protection or else pay excessive fees. The blacksmith was beside himself when we did not ask for payment when we rescued his son from the were-rat/goblin, White Chin.

Arael has asked us to seek out the Bastards of Erebus. It seems they are responsible for a recent swath of murders. He showed us to the most recent victim: Briago, a member of the Red Dawn. He was found face down in a pool of blood in his home; he killer slit his throat. With any luck we will prevent any more killings.

Freeing Arael

We start out planning to save the leader of our little group – a
gentleman named Arael, who our recruiter Yonovan assures us is quite
important. Arael is a half elf cleric of Yomodai who wants to see the
house of Thrune removed from power. There are about 20 other people
hiding in the deserted shrine that is our group’s current base.

Dawn of the first day (72 hours remain):

We met as a committee to discuss our group’s name and Arael’s rescue.
After some discussion, “The Red Dawn” was agreed to be a good name.
Our sign will be cloaks with detachable red hoods.

Yakopulio offered to let us borrow horses to aid in the rescue of
Arael, who is currently held by the Order of the Wrack. We agree to
ambush their prisoner transport as the road is crossing the river
Athua, planning to distract away the riders and assault the wagon.

Ruvin happened to be lent a powerful stallion, which will have more
significance later in the session.

The rescue of Arael goes off better than we could have hoped, and ends
with a humiliated Shanwen and the death of 2 of the Order of the
Wrack’s initiates. An awesome mask is stolen, and a very poor lie is
told to point at the city police.

We gain +1 fame point for freeing Arael.

When we return to the city, Ruvin and Walter return the horses while
the rest of the party escorts Arael (who apparently looks like Elrond)
to the abandoned shrine. While returning the horse, Thesing Umbero
Ulvaud angrily confronts Ruvin about his use of the stallion, but is
soothed by the diplomatic skills of the two player characters.

Dusk of the first day (60 hours remain):

The 3 elves went to see an opera that Thesing was performing in, and
witnessed the stallion kick an actor due to tiredness and poor

Dawn of the second day (48 hours remain):

This was mostly a day of rest and not drawing attention. The Elves
toured the city, Walter butlered a party near the docs, and Grenna
teaches the art of the sword to two members of the Red Dawn. One of
them, named Ricardo, shows great passion for swordwork.

Dusk of the second day (36 hours remain):

In the wee hours of the morning, the blacksmith urgently wakes Grenna
to help rescue his son from White Chin the goblin king. It’s quickly
decided they will wait for morning and gather the rest of the party.

Dawn of the final day (24 hours remain):

The party met up at Rufio’s house and began the search for the
blacksmith’s son. We began by heading to the wall between the city
proper and the ruined section nearby (which is known to house the dusk
market, which sells illicit and dangerous goods). We knew of 3 breaks
in the wall, and searched all three. In the first section, we found a
group of diseased homeless, desperately in need of treatment. In the
second we interfered with private affairs that shouldn’t be mentioned
in polite conversation. In the third section, we finally found a
sewer entrance.

After a small amount of diplomacy (which failed badly), we killed all
of the goblins at that part of the sewer, including White Chin. The
blacksmith’s son was safely rescued, and we received 1 fame point.

Dusk of the final day (12 hours remain):

The world did not end, as we are not playing Majora’s Mask.

Welcome to Westcrown
Don't go out after dark.

Walter Pennyworth was fresh off a boat in Westcrown, heading down to a tavern to drink off the first of his well earned pay from a tour at sea. While there, a young red-headed woman approached him.
“Is your name Walter?” She asked, standing nearby. Walter asserted that he was. “Is there a quiet place we can talk?”
“How should I know?” Walter queried honestly. The young woman flushed bright red as she recalled that yes, she had been told that Walter Pennyworth was stone deaf; that was a stupid question to ask him.
“Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, please come with me.” She apologized, quite ashamed. She motioned for Walter to follow and led him out of the bar and into a neighboring alley.

“My name is Janiven, and there is something I wish to speak with you about, as I have heard that you are a man of extraordinary ability.”

JanivenJanivan proceeded to speak to Walter about her group of peoples concerned with the direction of the city of Westcrown. There were horrors untold of shadowy beasts who roamed the city streets at nigh, preying on anyone foolish enough to walk outside past sundown. People were being oppressed by strict enforcement of arbitrary laws, and were unable to worship the gods they pleased, as Asmodeus was the only being permitted praise in the infernal Chelaxian city. In addition to the fear of the people, the city itself continued to deteriorate as more and more of its citizens died or moved away, precipitated largely by the moving of the Chelaxian capitol from Westcrown to another city in the north. When Walter agreed with this, she arranged for him to meet her at a vacant bar called Visio’s Tavern at 4pm for dinner.

Similar scenes played out throughout the morning as Janivan approached Grenna the Grey in another tavern, who was searching for a woman she thought to be in Westcrown, and promised help in the search. Ruvin Nunalokash in his family home, son of a performing line nearly ended with the brutal murder of both his parents was next approached, followed by two elves from out of town who were staying in the Barrowood refugee camp. One, a Kyra E’nash, a Barrowood refugee driven out by infernal creatures invading the forests, and another, a Sifnas Tinehtele away from his homeland in the Mwangi expanse on a personal pilgrimage. One by one, all agree to meet and discuss with Janivan at 4pm.

The first to arrive is Grenna. She noticed the the bar showed signs of being vacant for a long time. Dust coated the interior spaces, and the air was thick and muggy due to the windows being tightly boarded up— a feature shared amongst many buildings in the less affluent areas, as protection from outside witnesses, and against the creatures that prowl the streets in darkness. She sat at a large round table with places to seat 5 and waits. Walter arrived next, still before the meeting, and wiped down his chair before sitting with a small expression of disgust. Ruvin attempted a shoddy disguise before he entered, which was quickly seen through by the others. Last to arrive, and after four pm are the other two elves. Kyra entered and sat quickly, but Sifnas waited outside for a few moments, unsure of what to do with his horse. At a loss, he simply left it outside, untied.

Janivan mentions to them all that she needed to finish cooking but to introduce and get to know each other. The conversations were soft, and slightly awkward, mostly between Ruvin and Walter. Walter, uncomfortable, whipped out a cloth and began to clean the table. Mostly they waited for Janivan to return and explain why she brought them all here. Sifnas in particular was suspicious of Janivan’s intentions, because she never explained to him how she knew his name, or the name of his tribe.

One by one she served them wine, and venison, in a manner that irked Walter, due to his upbringing that strictly upholds manners and proper procedure. Eventually, she sat down and began to speak, pausing occasionally to look out at the door, as if expecting someone.

What poured from her lips was an impassioned speech about the fear and suffering of the local population. The people needed a symbol to stand behind to push off the shackles of fear, and to fight back against the beasts who prowled at night, summoned likely by the ruling House of Thrune.
When she stopped, she was breathless and excited. Walter calmly brought her down by asking her an important question. Where ultimately did her uprising end? Was she insinuating the downfall of the government of Cheliax? In addition to the speech, which was very much treason to speak against the House of Thrune, the whole idea was one that would easily get all of them killed.

She paused, stating that her first goal was to empower the people, after that, she did not know. She was waiting for the arrival of a Priest of Iomede, named Arael whom was the main driving force and anchor pin for the group. Sifnas spoke for the first time since arriving, asking what her immediate plans were.

Before she had a chance to answer, a furious knocking sounded on the door. When the others turned to look, Walter dove behind the bar. Janivan rushed to answer, unbolting the three locks holding the door’s egress. A young boy of fourteen tumbled in, breathless and flushed, with the spittle in his mouth turned to froth.

“Arael is captured! The Hellknights have him, and they are already coming this way!” He said in quick halted phrases. Just then all who could hear noticed the sounds of heavy plate armor clanking as troops approached the safe house. “We are already surrounded!”

“My horse!” Sifnas shouted, understanding now the grave situation Janivan had put all of them in. He moved to exit but was stopped.
“There’s no time, but it will be okay I assure you! Come with me.” She moved behind the bar where Walter was already taking cover and opened a cupboard filled with bottles of wine. Sliding the bottom shelf out of the way revealed a passageway hidden below. Walter went first, followed by the others into the darkness.

“Do you value this place?” Said Kyra to Janivan, before she went below. The young rebel looked around,
“Now that they know, we can never return.” She said soberly. Kyra snapped her fingers and one of the curtains obscuring the barred window began to burn. Without another word, the rest of them slid down the passage into darkness.

The next thing the group noticed was the overwhelming stench, revealing that the passage led into the sewers. Walter pulled out a hooded lantern which Kyra lit. Dank, fetid air left an almost visible haze, and various fungi grew on the cobbled stone walls. Beside them, a narrow tough of dark opaque water flowed slowly. Janivan took the lead. Each passageway was about 25 feet in length, opening into various intersections. One one wall, a sword was painted in orange, pointing the direction to go toward the next safehouse. Walter quickly scrubbed out the sword, remarking that the Hellknights would be soon following, despite the blaze.

She led them further down the mephitic depths, turning in a north easterly direction. Janivan eventually broke from the group, pledging to distract the pursuing Hellknights and advising them to move ahead without her. Strange and unnatural creatures lurked in the city’s underbelly, the likes of which none in the party had encountered before. A group of four skeletons poured from the sluice out onto the walkways but were soundly destroyed. Sifnas kept to the rear, lance at ready against any who might ambush from behind.

The sewers were maze like, with some stops and dead ends, not aided by the fact that some of the sword drawings were missing or damaged to being unhelpful. At one point in the middle of the corridor they came across a grouping of three large purple mushrooms. Unable to identify the species, Walter hazarded a shot from his crossbow at the frontmost one, which immediately lived up to its name of Shrieker Mushroom by unleashing a deafening cacophony of screams. The entire party grabbed at their ears in pain, with the exception of Walter, who momentarily did not understand what his action had caused.

Their position given away, this brought Hellknights from two directions, the group chasing them from the tavern, and another, a guard patrol from ahead. In a lethal game of cat and mouse, the group slunk around the patrols, eventually hiding obscured in a magic mist and silent in a dead end for the patrols to pass by.

Alumni shrieker1stFinally the time of decision had to be reached, as the Shrieker mushrooms blocked the only path to freedom. They decided to rush past it and run the rest of the way. Unfortunately a group of goblins also blocked the path. Three of the four were dispatched easily, the last held fast past a barrage of missed swings and stabs, even sidestepping a bold Walter who tumbled almost directly into the sludge, putting out his lantern.

The rouge eventually snatched the goblin’s torch and stabbed the handle through it’s eyeball, freeing the party and allowing them to proceed, though the Hellknights had gotten close enough to know their quarry by sight.

A harrowing call of “There are the rebels!” Spurred the party to break into a mad dash to the exit, given a moment’s distraction by a magic flare from Kyra into the faces of the pursuing Hellknights. They clambered up a rope through a trap door into a garbage heap. They pushed a broken wagon over the trap door to bar it from opening, and the teenager, named Murrosino, led them down into a neighboring street toward a hidden door at the back of a temple.

A nervous looking man opened the door when it was knocked, sliding open a secret panel to allow the party inside. A smattering of people milled about, with tables and beds scattered around. The windows and front double doors were heavily barred, revealing that the secret entrance was the only way in or out. The mood was tense as Janivan arrived and informed the nervous man, known as Ermolos about the situation regarding Arael. She turned back to the group,

“It is not safe to leave now. Stay until tomorrow, and participate in the meeting we will hold in the morning. Sifnas, Gorvio will look out for your horse.”

The party agreed, but sleep did not come easy to many of the people residing inside the ‘abandoned’ temple.

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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