Free XP!!!

In order to encourage the Scales of Rusk players to get involved in this blog, I am offering 400 XP to the first player to establish a Google account and leave a comment on this post, and 250XP for anyone else who does that. You will need a parent to help you with this.

The easiest way to do this is to click on the title of this post, and when you get to the page allowing you to leave a comment, try to do so using a Google account profile. When it then asks for your login information, choose the link on that page that allows you to create an account.

Please remember that the "display name" for your account should be your character's name, not your real name.

On XP and Gold

Since we have 8 players involved, but only six slots any given session, I have decided on the following to keep players from falling far behind the others in experience: anyone missing a session will get half the experience that the players who make it get, excluding any special awards. Furthermore, when either of our "alternates" fills in for someone, their character will get an extra 50% XP to help them catch up.

As for gold and other tangible rewards, those will be allocated among the players that are actually there for a session. And everyone starts with 100g, minus the cost of their initial equipment.

I have adjusted all the characters in the Character Builder to reflect these rules.

For Sinruth! For the Hand!

Damakos, having just returned from Witchcross, burst enthusiastically into the Antler and Thistle, where he knew his new friends would be spending their afternoon. The saloon was half-full with customers, including three card players in the back corner. Gilda the barmaid was flowing effortlessly between tables and the bar, serving the drinks poured by Mohr the bartender. Damakos stashed his staff in the required corner (no weapons allowed, after all), and beamed as he approached his friends’ table.

“Mica! Mica! I learned that ‘fountain of flame’ spell you can do. I did it for the first time yesterday morning. I’m ready to burn some serious monsters. Dual fountains of flame! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Myca arched her left eyebrow as she considered Damakos. “Fountain of flame? I’m sure I don’t have the foggiest idea what you mean.”

Damakos persisted. “What? Fountain of flame! You’re a fire mage. It’s your signature spell.”

Myca chuckled. “Dear boy, why would I waste my natural charms on arcane spells. I’m a warlock. My signature spell is ‘mist of madness’…” she said, as she weaved her fingers in an intricate pattern. Damakos turned and slapped Tahuu across the face.

“Hey,” Tahuu yelled, “keep it together, Damakos. You’d think a mage would have a tougher will than that.”

“But… I thought Charcol was our warlock, isn’t that right, Charc…” Damakos confusion increased as he looked toward Aramil. “Wait… you look a bit like Charcol… but not quite…”

“Damakos,” chided Aramil, “what did that mage trainer do to your brain? It’s surprising you have enough intelligence left to be a mage. Don’t you remember me? Aramil? Master of illusion?”

Damakos scratched his left tiefling horn. “What’s going on here, guys? What’s happened to Mica and Charcol?”

The dwarf Fargrim leaned over to Aramil. “Give ’im a little ’elp, won’t ya?”

“Fine,” Aramil replied, removing his necklace and holding it in front of him. “Damakos, check out this cool new necklace I got from those skeletons.” He allowed the gem on the end to swing back and forth slowly.

“Hey, that is pretty cool. It’s shiny. It’s… pretty… I… want… one… umm…” Damakos voice trailed off as his eyes locked on the motion of the gem.

“Damakos, listen very carefully,” cooed Aramil. “You remember now that Myca has always been a warlock.”

“…yes…of course…a warlock…” intoned Damakos.

“And there is no Charcol; there is only Aramil, Master of Illusion.”

“…no Charcol…only Aramil…” continued Damakos obediently, drawing quiet chuckles from Tahuu and Fargrim.

“And when I snap my fingers, you’ll wake up and order us a round of (root) beers.” Snap!

Damakos’ head jerked up. “Hey, guys! I’m so happy about my new spell. Why don’t I order us a round of (root) beers?” And he slapped a gold piece on the table.

“Excellent suggestion,” replied Aramil, nicking the gold piece from the table and heading for the bar. “I’ll get them for you.”

Just as he arrived at the bar, he heard Whenua howl outside the front entrance. Moments later, the wolf bounded in towards Tahuu, barking a warning. The bartender Mohr yelled out, “Get that wolf out of here! No animals in here!”

But the source of Whenua’s agitation was quickly apparent. Four hobgoblin grunts burst into the saloon, wielding crude swords and yelling, “For Sinruth! For the Hand!”. Two of them ran to the nearest table and struck down two unfortunate patrons. Another headed behind the bar, and the fourth toward the wall across from the bar.

Panic gripped the customers and they scattered from their tables. Most started to run toward the back door. A few shrank into the corners. The card players instinctively got up, but, thinking better of it when they realized how big their pot was, sat back down to take their chances.

Damakos sprang into action first. He darted for the corner where the weapons were stored and grabbed his staff. He also grabbed Aramil’s staff and tossed it to him. Aramil, still having the necklace in his other hand, caught the attention of the nearest grunt and attempted to hypnotize him, but to no avail. Tahuu and Fargrim ran to the weapon pile, grabbing their weapons and tossing Myca’s rod to her. Tahuu snapped off a bullet from his sling, missing, while Whenua ran in to harass the goblins.

Two more grunts came through the door, followed closely by a goblin blackblade brandishing a torch. He also yelled, “For Sinruth! For the Hand!” Turning to two of the grunts, he commanded, “Get the banner!” Those grunts headed toward the far wall.

The hobgoblin behind the bar took a slash at the bartender, cleaving deeply into his neck, killing him instantly. “Hey!” yelled Aramil. “He was serving my beer. You’re going to pay for that.” A ghostly hand appeared in front of the hobgoblin and grabbed his sword. As the grunt looked on in surprise, the ghostly hand returned the favor, killing the hobgoblin with a cut to the neck.

Damakos then ran up to the pack of enemies, positioned himself properly, and yelled out, “Eat fire, goblins!” Flames fanned out from his fingertips, engulfing six of the goblins and killing four of them instantly. “Nice,” he yelled out.

As Fargrim ran up, he said, “Great job, Damakos. But can I remind ye that this is a wood building?” noting that a table went up in flames.

“Do you mean…” stammered Damakos.

“That’s right, lad. No fountain of flame in here.”

“Rats!” cried Damakos, eager to try his new spell.

Tahuu ran up to join Fargrim and Whenua, and they all three attacked the blackblade, nearly killing him. The blackblade tossed his torch toward the bar, igniting the alcohol behind it in a fury of flame. Then he turned and ran from the saloon. They considered giving chase, but couldn’t as two more grunts and another torch-wielding blackblade entered.

Meanwhile, in the back, Myca tried to rally the fleeing customers. “Don’t be afraid. We can defeat them if we all stick together.” She flashed a smile at them, and a sparkle came off her teeth. They stopped, momentarily indecisive, then started mumbling, “Yeah… we can do it… there’s more of us than them.” They began grabbing bottles from the tables.

Aramil, pleased with his ghostly hand trick, attempted it again on one of the other grunts, but it could do no better than slow the grunt’s attack. No matter, though, because Fargrim, Tahuu, and Whenua dug into the goblins in front of them and kept them from advancing further into the saloon.

Damakos, taking a moment to consider all the fire spells that he couldn’t do anymore, finally had an inspiration. “Freezing burst!” he cried, as the doorway area exploded in frost and took down another of the grunts.

The bar patrons, encouraged by Myca’s speech, threw their bottles at a grunt reaching for a banner on the wall. Two missed, but the third caught him on the head, knocking him out cold. Seeing this, Myca found the cowering barmaid Gilda and asked her to fetch rope to tie up the grunt.

The battle continued at the entrance, with a few more grunts joining the fray, but it was soon over. The second blackblade was dispatched, another blast of frost took out two more grunts, and Fargrim wrestled the last grunt to the ground after it foolishly hacked its own sword into the table.

By then, town constables arrived at the bar and organized a bucket brigade to put out the fires in the saloon. The building was saved, but it took extensive damage, and its owner lay dead.

First Blood

The lair of the bandits was not hard to find. The party picked up the trail at the ambush site the merchant described to them, and skeletons apparently don’t do a good job of hiding their tracks. By mid-afternoon, the party spotted a cave complex in the distance that was clearly their destination. Hiding out of sight behind some boulders, they plotted their action.

“I’ll sneak around to the east towards that partially blocked entrance over there,” suggested Lancer.

“Fine, I’ll peek around the other side,” added Mica.

As soon as Lancer crept beyond the cover of the rocks, he spotted a skeleton at the edge of a copse of trees, brandishing a crude short sword. Lancer remained unseen, though. Taking careful aim, he unleashed an arrow, struck the skeleton in its skull, and it fell dead.

Unfortunately, skeletons have a penchant for dying noisily, particularly when their impaled skulls separate from their spines and roll away. No sooner had Mica peeked around the other side of the rocks, when she saw and heard a guard near the entrance cry out, “Enemies!”

Eberk sprung out from behind the boulders and charged the guard at the entrance. His hammer did what hammers do best, breaking bones, in this case about a dozen of them as the guard fell to pieces under his attack.

Tahuu’s wolf Whenua ran up beside Eberk to help cover the cave entrance, and most others in the party took up positions behind them, while Lancer continued to the side entrance.

Skeletons began to flock toward the entrance, and shortly their leader became visible in the dimness of the cave. Armed with an impressive longbow, he clearly was going to be someone to be reckoned with. Fortunately, his first shot only grazed Eberk for minor damage.

Mica fired her magic missiles into one of the skeletons, clearing a path for others to enter the main entrance safely, and then ran towards Lancer to provide assistance. Eberk, Tahuu, and Charcol pressed in to the cave complex, striking down skeletons to make their way toward the leader.

The leader’s second shot went wild, ricocheting harmlessly off the cave ceiling. He turned back toward the darkness behind him and yelled “Get up here!” to other skeletons, which soon appeared.

The leader then ran behind cover and up a tunnel headed towards Lancer’s entrance. As soon as he saw Lancer, though, he stopped and took partial cover behind a wall.

He left enough showing for Lancer to attack, though. The rogue fired an arrow at the leader and sheared off four ribs with a devastating hit.

Eberk quickly assessed the situation and decided Charcol could handle the remaining skeletons in the central corridor, and he ran down another corridor toward Lancer, Mica, and the skeleton archer.

Halfway there, though, an ugly maggoty mass – a rot grub swarm – sprang out from under a trash pile and attacked him, stopping his progress. Three grubs bit him, leaving a putrid substance on his skin that stung badly. The wolf Whenua ran up to help, too, and was similarly damaged.

Eberk hacked at the grubs, but they were surprisingly good at slipping out of the path of his hammer. He squashed one of them, but that was a pittance given the couple dozen others.

“Gah!” he exclaimed, “my weapon doesn’t count for much. Mica, ya got any tricks up your sleeve?”

“Coming right up,” she replied with an eager gleam in her eye. “Eat flame, maggots!” she cried, as fire shot out from her fingers and formed a pillar of fire on the rot grub swarm. High-pitched squeals were heard as the innards of over half the grubs boiled out of their mouths.

“Yeah, I’d say that worked just fine!” said Eberk.

Meanwhile, Charcol was busy with the other skeletons that emerged from the back of the cave, launching a series of eldritch bolts at them. Tahuu considered helping him, but turned instead towards Eberk and Whenua and did what he could to heal them of the ongoing damage from the goo on their skins.

The skeleton leader, having succeeded in luring the party to the rot grub swarm, turned away from Lancer’s deadly bow, ran back around the wall towards Charcol, and fired his own bow. His running threw off his aim, though, and the arrow sailed harmlessly past the warlock.

The rot grub swarm shied away from the still burning pillar of fire and headed straight for Mica. But it was unable to cause her any harm before her burning hands sizzled the rest of them to a crisp.

Lancer, seeing Mica devastating the grubs, ran back towards Charcol and the skeleton leader. He fired another arrow into the leader, finishing him off.

“The Raven Queen take you,” complained Charcol. “Why’d you have to do that? I was about to waste him.”

“Sorry,” said Lancer, “but this is what I do.”

The last skeleton fell easily, and after a few moments of wary expectation and searching, it was clear that nothing remained. Like all good adventurers, the party began to search the bodies and the cave for any valuables, but there were none that were interesting to the living.

In the depths of the cave, though, they found a curious display, almost like a shrine. Propped against the wall was a portrait of an unappealing human female, presumably the merchant’s wife. Collected around its base were bits of moss, polished bone, and linen fragments.

“I do believe those are tokens of affection from the skeletons,” observed Mica. “I guess they have very different standards of beauty.”

“Aye,” agreed Eberk. “She doesn’t even have a respectable beard.”

“Well, to each his own,” said Charcol, enjoying the disgusted look on Mica’s face. He picked up the portrait, and they headed back towards Brindol to claim their reward.

A New Companion

“What do you mean they’re not here?” hissed Mica, sparks playing at her fingertips. “Three weeks looking for a gig, our (ginger) ale money running out, we finally get a paying job… and they’re not here?”

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger,” protested Charcol. “I’m just telling you what I know. Damakos saw you do that fancy ‘fountain of flame’ the other day, and he’s determined to learn it. He’s off to the mage trainer in Witchcross.”

“Blast him! What about Fargrim?”

“’e ’ad ta see a man about a sword,” groaned Eberk, looking up from his empty mug. “Gilda, ’nother (root) beer, quick.”

“Eberk, you’ve had enough,” said the druid Tahuu, waving off the barmaid. “You’ve started speaking with that Cockney accent again, and it’s not even a language in our world. Goodness, you’re a paladin. You should go easy on the stuff.”

“Yeah, somethin’ that good can’t be lawful!” guffawed Eberk, laughing a bit too hard at his own joke.

At Tahuu’s feet, Whenua rolled his wolf eyes. “Nice one,” interpreted Tahuu. “Almost as funny as the first four times you used that line.”

“Well, that’s just great,” said Mica, bringing the conversation back on topic. “That leaves us only four. Not that we need Mr. ‘I have to know every spell Mica knows’, but Fargrim would have been useful.”

“Sounds like you could use another blade,” chimed in an unfamiliar smoky, almost sinister, voice, from a slight Eladrin in a hooded, dark cloak.

Eberk started from his seat. “Gah! Where’d ya come from? ‘ow long have ya been sitting there?”

“Long enough to know that you’ve got a paying job and a need for a fifth hand.” (“er… sixth,” he corrected, hearing a low growl from Whenua). “Lancer’s the name, and…”

“Ya’ look like a Quarion,” observed Eberk.

“No, it’s Lancer.”

“Ya’ sure? Quarion’s a fine name.”

“Lancer, thank you.”

“But you don’t seem ta have a lance.”

“Quite, Eberk,” spat Charcol. “The man can choose his own name. So, Mr.Qu… Lancer, where do you come from, and what can you offer us?”

“As for where I come from, that’s my own business… for now. But I can offer a blade that digs deep, arrows that fly true, and the ability to sit down at a table unnoticed, if you get my drift. For a price.”

“Well, you might as well move on then,” said Tahuu. “This is a small job, 40 gold reward to recover a painting stolen from a merchant traveling the road back from Prosser. Doesn’t have a clue why the band of skeletons took it and left his other wares behind. But, it apparently has some sentimental value for him. A portrait of his wife, or something like that. All we can offer is a fifth of the reward and anything else we find. Not much to offer a man of such obvious talents.”

Tahuu and Lancer stared at each other, blank faces, neither wanting to betray any hints to the other. Finally, Lancer smiled slyly and confessed, “Aw, who am I kidding? No one around here is hiring unproven adventurers for any jobs. So, I suppose I could join you for the experience. And the 10 gold…”

“Eight gold…” corrected Mica.

“Right… eight gold. So, what’s your group’s name?”

“Eberk’s Eleven!” boasted the dwarf.

“Don’t mind him,” said Charcol. “Counting’s not his strong suit. And we don’t have a name yet. Most of us have only just met in the last few weeks.”

“Nice… uh… too late for me to change my mind?”

“Yup,” said Tahuu, slapping Lancer on the back, leading him and the rest out of the Antler and Thistle pub. “Welcome aboard.”

“Welcome to our merry band!” added Eberk. “And call me Wander, even though I don’t ’ave a wand!”

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One thing you MUST NOT DO...

...is try to read ahead and find out what's going to happen in our campaign. The Scales of War adventure path was published over 19 issues of Dungeon magazine online, and there are some Web sites devoted to it.

Please, players, don't read anything out there about the Scales of War adventure. Everything you need to know will come out in game time, and it would spoil the fun for a lot of us if some players read ahead, especially if you give out information to other players, too.

So, please don't do this. Consider this cheating. I'll probably recognize whether someone has read ahead, and I will not be pleased.