Tonight the party venture into Imiriel’s Forgotten Church to rescue Carlo Cleardraw. But are they too late to save the twice blessed warrior?
So grab a coffee, maybe a bottle of holy water as we check out tonight’s map!
Imiriel’s Forgotten Church
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Imiriel’s Forgotten Church – Created in Inkarnate.
The pulses of foul magic can be felt from outside the doors at the end of the tunnels and the conflicted look of concern and rage danced upon the clerics face as he realised the error in what he was taught. Pushing against the doors he opened to the chamber where Carlo Cleardraw was suspended from chains as dark magic ripped essence from his chest.
Imiriel’s Forgotten Church – gridded – Created in Inkarnate.
Thanks for joining for another map night this week. Don’t forget that we have a few more nights left this week so make sure to come back each day to see what I add to this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
Tonight we have a fun twist where the party witness a weird confession of forgiveness through murder… Where misplaced trust in the orders high priest has lead Elaric, the cleric who worked with Carlo along side with the rogue Brenna and Tharen the warrior, into sacrificing Carlo for the greater good.
So grab a coffee, maybe a seat as we listen into some pretty heavy revelations in tonight’s adventure!
Forgiveness through Murder
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Forgiveness through Murder – Created in Copilot.
The room that the party were staying in rang with Brenna Flintshard’s fury as she beat on the thick wooden door. As the door opened she thrust Elaric Fen into the centre of the space with surprising strength from the dwarven rogue. Her grip firm, her eyes glittering with disgust as she stared daggers into Elaric and his priestly robes. A hatred burning within that the party had not seen in an age. Dust rose beneath their boots as the warrior, Tharen Voss followed close behind, and the rest of the party watched, weapons sheathed but nerves drawn tight. ‘You led him to them,’ Brenna growled. ‘To their altar. Their trap.’ The room was silent.
Elaric didn’t resist. He knelt, not out of submission but exhaustion. ‘I serve Imiriel,’ he began quietly. ‘She teaches remembrance. That all endings are sacred from the meek to the mighty. When the High Priests summoned me, they claimed her silence was a condemnation. That Carlo’s dual blessings mocked every god and that she was silent because of him. They told me his sacrifice would preserve balance.’
Tharen stepped forward, his expression carved from iron yet something smouldered as if he hearing this admittance of guilt for the first time. ‘So you chose her silence over his trust?’ the older warrior’s voice cracked like thunder. A bitter gust howled outside, swirling ash against grime covered glass panes.
‘I was bound,’ Elaric murmured. ‘Not just by the temple’s rites, but by grief, guilt and my oath to follow the high priests. They twisted the doctrine until it sounded like duty. Told me Carlo’s soul would scatter if we didn’t act. I begged Imiriel for guidance. But she doesn’t command, she remembers. And remembering means I must bear the shame and the outcome of my actions.’
‘You didn’t just let it happen,’ Brenna snapped after being silent for a while as she grabbed at his tunic and lifted him off the ground a few inches. ‘You walked him into it. You called it faith.’ She shoved him back and the clack-clack-clack of dropping beads punctuated the exchange. Looking in her hand she scowled and hurled a shattered bead of prayer crystal at his robes. ‘This is what your goddess gave you?’
Elaric’s face tightened. ‘She gave me the sorrow of memories of what I have done to preserve balance, that and silence. Along with the the weight of every choice I have made and am yet to come.’ His voice trembled. ‘And when Carlo called out as they clasped cursed irons to him. It was only when I saw the power drain from him, when they drained his light, I felt her weep a single tear. Not from anger, but from love. I broke the promise of endings. And she turned her face away.’
Brenna drew a tattered book with its pages edges frayed and ink fading. ‘I went looking for clues, for answers as to how he could have died. If he had indeed been struck by a blade then he would have felt it. He wrote this the night before he was claimed to be dead.’ she paused before she read from the book. ‘They fear what I carry. If it kills me, forgive them. If it saves me, trust in her.’ She looked up, lips curled. ‘He meant this for you.’ she threw the book, a journal, at Elaric.
Elaric lowered his gaze towards the book and read. ‘Let me honour her now. Let me help undo what I helped bind.’ He looked to Tharen, to Brenna and to the party, ‘I am not worthy of your forgiveness but I can do this. Trust in the man that fought along side you in the Deep halls. I’ll stand beside you once more as we save Carlo -I know where he is kept but they will only let me in. Stand with me with your blades once more, if your swords do not strike me down first.’
Elaric knelt there head bowed low as tears dropped down his cheeks. ‘I didn’t stop them then, but I will end this now.’ and as he knelt there something stirred in the air and a single blue feather floated to rest upon the book at the feet of the cleric.
Thanks for dropping by for another night at my tabletop. Don’t forget as we passed the midway point we have maps and monsters, well creature stat blocks left for this week. So make sure you don’t forget to come back the last few remaining days this week to stay up to date with what’s happening at my tabletop. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
The adventuring group known as the Summers Clasp were the last to travel and adventure along side Carlo Cleardraw. They also have something to hide, well one of them does, and their account doesn’t feel right.
So grab a coffee, maybe a note pad as we listen to the potential last moments of Carlo Cleardraw in tonight’s adventure!
The Summers Clasp
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The Summers Clasp adventuring group- Created in copilot.
The temple’s inner chamber had quieted, its enchantments holding outside sound at bay despite the coffin being up righted and the doors opened again. The party stood in a small alcove flanked by stone reliefs of celestial victories, carved in the days before Carlo had earned his name among them. Three of the coffin bearers remained behind, separated from the crowd. They all wore the signs of recent travel: scraped armour, worn cloaks, and exhaustion that ran less deep than their grief.
The party and the trio were shown to a small room and given some wine to help calm their nerves. After a few moments the warrior spoke first, his voice cracked and low. He was broad-shouldered and thick-necked, but his posture betrayed no pride. ‘I owe him everything,’ he said, eyes fixed on a point beyond the party. ‘Two weeks ago I’d have bled out in the Obsidian Pass if he hadn’t thrown me out of the fire’s path.’ His fingers curled into fists. ‘He was still strong then. Still himself.’ He offered no answers, only admiration, and the kind of quiet that comes from watching a living legend fall.
Beside him, the young dwarf rogue stared down at her boots, her voice no louder than the wind through the stones. ‘He made me see I could be more than a shadow in someone else’s tale. Even when I broke ranks… even when I failed.’ She quickly rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. ‘He pulled me out of that ruin when it collapsed. Didn’t hesitate. Just smiled and said I’d did a good job at finding scouting ahead.’ She couldn’t look at the party.
The older cleric stepped forward, adjusting the mantle over his weathered robes. Unlike the others, his expression held something unreadable; composure honed from years of preaching his doctrine. ‘I saw him fall,’ he said, his voice catching lightly, ‘we were deep in the wizard’s sanctum. The air was thick with enchantment, and the wizards apprentices stepped through the plane like shadows.’ He paused, carefully. ‘One of them, one I believe, cut him across the chest with a dark red dagger. I… I thought nothing of it until now as he was so strong and he stood and he was the twice blessed. Nothing could have killed him. That’s what I thought at least.’
The trio exchanged glances, their thoughts echoed across their faces; splintering under the weight of the clerics words. If Carlo, twice-blessed, had truly been struck down in combat by some form of cursed blade and dying later from wounds that had unimpeded him, not phased him until after they had all returned. Guilt crept in uninvited, winding through the silence as they all felt like they could, no should have saved him from the blade if they were just a bit more. Their shoulders sagged. Their hearts, already shaken, began to fracture visibly in their expressions.
But the cleric; whose god was not Auronel nor Vorthuun, held up a hand. His voice grew gentle, almost rehearsed. ‘There is a plan for all of us. Perhaps not ours to understand, but shaped nonetheless. I just hope that the plan with Carlo finds meaning.’ He stepped back slightly, squeezing the shoulder of the dwarven rogue, allowing his words to settle. ‘The blame doesn’t belong to you. We all stood with him. And we all lost something, we all did something wrong in that quest.’
And yet something lingered. A flicker of restraint in the cleric’s tone. Though the party largely accepted his account, unease remained. His eyes had flinched too briefly when describing the wound. His certainty sounded practiced. Whether it was grief or something else left unsaid, the party could not be sure. But in that moment, they held to his reassurance as a fragile shield against what truly gnawed at them: not just that Carlo was gone, but that they had no idea how, or why.
Thanks for visiting tonight for another update for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back the last few nights this week to make sure that you don’t miss anything that happens with this adventure. And, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
This week we have a bit more of a sombre kick off to this weeks adventure with a funeral procession that takes quite the twist. But tonight is just the tip of the iceberg in this weeks adventure and the outcome is not something you’d expect.
So grab a coffee, an extra one hundred foot of rope as we dive into tonight’s adventure!
The sudden death of the hero twice blessed by the gods came to a shock to not only the entire populace of Cleveral but to the party as well. Having defeated armies, slain demons, devils and all matter of undead single handed ,Carlo Cleardraw was a force to be reckoned with and even the high priests of the holy city of Cleveral had asked for his help.
That is why his death was such as shock, but not as much of as shock as discovering the casket that bore him to his final resting spot being empty. Now there is a mystery to be solved and there is not much time before it’s too late to find the truth.
Funeral Procession
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Funeral Procession – created in Copilot
The streets of Cleveral stood hushed beneath a veil of mourning. Silks of blue and gold fluttered from archways and balconies, colours sacred to the gods that had twice blessed Carlo Cleardraw. The city’s grand procession moved slowly through the cobbled main avenue, lined with citizens who whispered prayers and scattered petals as the coffin passed. It was a solemn tribute to a man thought larger than life; a blade against darkness, a symbol of divine favour and a voice of the people and all that was good in this world.
The party moved silently behind the casket, their heads bowed though their eyes watched everything. Each of them carried the weight of a shared past with Carlo, and now, the crushing disbelief of his sudden death. The temple of Auronel stood at the end of the street, its spires carved with constellations and celestial script, glowing faintly in the twilight. The casket was to be laid before the altar of memory, blessed by the high priest, and finally sealed beneath the temple’s sanctified crypt.
Inside the temple, candlelight danced over polished stone and sacred relics. Only a chosen few were permitted entry, the party among them, alongside a handful of Carlo’s closest confidants and comrades from previous adventures. As the procession moved forward down the nave, the casket wobbled as the bearers grief echoed that of the populace of the holy city. The wobbling was slight at first until one of Carlo’s old companions faltered as they misjudged a a step, dropping their end of the weight with an audible cry of shock and horror. It struck the dais with a hollow thud. The lid split open to a chorus of alarm, fear and sorrow echoing out.
Gasps echoed off the temple walls, rising sharply as shadows peeled away to reveal an unbearable truth: the coffin was empty. Panic surged; a hush of reverence torn open into a cacophony of confusion and fear. The high priest of Auronel, silver-robed and wide-eyed, rushed forward. With a gesture and a sacred phrase, the temple doors slammed shut behind the gathered mourners, sealing the interior with divine command.
A murmur of enchantment suffused the room, binding secrecy to every tongue present and sealing away magic until the prayer was rescinded. The high priest raised his hands, voice trembling yet resolute, as he implored all those present, especially the party, to uncover the mystery. ‘Carlo would not fall to fang or flame,’ he said his soft and kind face looking between the coffin and those gathered – Carlo’s trusted few, ‘nor to illness, nor curse. No blade in this world could find his heart not even if he welcomed it. The gods that blessed him would not have it.’
The implications hung heavy in the charged stillness. Had Carlo truly died or had something older, stranger or twisted stolen his body before burial? If it were a deception, then for what purpose? If it were a theft… then by whom and for what purpose? The party glanced between one another, each wrestling with disbelief.
Whispers rose as the high priest lifted his staff, the head shaped in twin sigil’s, one for Auronel, god of grace and healing, the other for Vorthuun, deity of judgment and fire. These were the patrons who had marked Carlo Cleardraw in life. Twice-blessed, they called him, the champion of both mercy and wrath. To all gathered, his death should have been impossible. Yet here they stood without proof which or either way.
The priest turned slowly, his voice echoing across marble and stained glass. ‘Auronel does not abandon chosen souls to the silence of the void,’ he declared, ‘and Vorthuun suffers no theft of fate.’ That Carlo’s body was gone, vanished without trace was not merely sacrilege; it defied the edicts of two divine powers whose marks cannot be simply erased.
A subtle pressure filled the air, as if the temple itself recoiled from the implications. Golden light from the suspended sunstones overhead flickered, dimming as a breeze stirred though the sealed chamber, wind without source, whispering through robes and curls. It carried a voice, fractured and low. Not all heard it, but those attuned to the arcane felt it hum within their ribs. It was not grief that lingered here. It was contradiction.
The party moved closer to the casket. Some stared as though expecting Carlo to appear within it after all, as if the gods might rewind reality. But all that remained was a trace of ash and a single feather, luminous and pale blue. Not angelic, but deeply sacred, an echo of Auronel’s presence, known to manifest only at moments of ascension or divine refusal. It was not left casually.
A member of the casket bearers knelt, touching the feather, and for a breathless second, everyone felt the echo of Carlo’s voice. Not speech, not memory, but a feeling of unrest. He was not at peace. The high priest’s gaze sharpened. ‘This is not the end of Carlo Cleardraw,’ he said quietly with a sigh of relief which then turned dark as Vorthunn’s influence flickered like an ember. This sign was not as reassurance but as warning of the time ahead.
Thanks for visiting for another start of the week adventure kick off night. Don’t forget to come around for more adventure crafting tomorrow and the rest of the week as we continue to grow and expand this adventure into something memorable for our parties. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
Now for the next Zine of the year I present, in single page zine format, The Hidden Well. I still believe that these provide DMs a lot more freedom to tinker with it how they want and open up the adventures to be more free formed and flowing than the larger booklet zines.
There is references to the blog nights which are D&D centric but it can easily use the adversary stat-blocks highlighted in Friday nights post if you’re running Daggerheart. As always Kobold fight club can be used to quickly balance an encounter for Dungeons and Dragons and Tetra-cube provides the stat-blocks for many of my D&D creatures.
So I hope you enjoy this weeks adventure, The Hidden Well, and that all your rolls are made with advantage.
The Hidden Well
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The Hidden Well – Created in Copilot
From the dusty road into Solbrook, the party spotted a crowd and a rough tent city mushrooming out by the edge of the farmland. News had spread like wildfire, some ancient thing had been uncovered beneath the wheat fields and people swarmed in chasing coin, knowledge, or the thrill of something big. Scholars flocked in to gawk at a hundred-foot statue, unlike anything they’d seen before. Locals threw up shelters and ramshackle stores to handle the surge of visitors. And adventurers, much like the party themselves, arrived drawn by whispers of treasure dangling just below the surface.
The makeshift village around the sinkhole had just about everything a hopeful wanderer could want. A cluster of tents behind a fence acted as a cheap inn where even a few coins stretched far. Market stalls bustled with gear, rations, rope, parchment or anything you’d need for a delve into the unknown. And down one crowded lane, the party found themselves drawn to a big red tent pitched by the Scholars of Yole. They were calling in seasoned adventurers to crack the first sealed chamber. There was solid coin for stepping up, and talk of steady work for anyone who could prove they weren’t just swinging swords for show.
The interior of the large red tent was nothing short of chaos; towering shelves crammed with scrolls and trinkets doubled as walls, dividing beds for the Scholars of Yole. At the heart of it all sat a young dwarven man at a desk, briskly taking names and occupations before offering coin to would-be adventurers. He laid out the deal clearly: ten gold a day, more if blades clashed or bones broke, and a finders clause granting rights to any non-crucial relics uncovered during exploration. With the way in newly breached, the scholars were eager to hire seasoned help and the party had arrived right on cue.
Over the next two days, the party led the way as scouts, helping the scholars navigate the buried ruin’s booby-trapped halls and crumbling chambers. While the first room glittered with valuable relics, the deeper they ventured, the more decay and rot took hold, until they stumbled into a room that was strangely pristine. With no mould, no rust, and no dust, it stood in stark contrast to what came before. Then came another immaculate room, its trap already sprung yet untouched by time. Something wasn’t adding up, and the sense of unease began to gro.
After securing their modest haul and settling in for the night, the party was preparing for rest when alarms shattered the quiet. Sprinting toward the commotion, they found a crowd clustered around a fallen guard near the statue’s rope ladder. His body showed clear signs of burns and further evidence of scorched clothing and warped armour could easily be seen. Yet the cause of death was announced as drowning. A pool of strange liquid had spilled from his mouth, now carefully stored in a scholar’s vial. With no signs of an attacker, magical discharge, or nearby creature, the scene was deeply unsettling. Investigating the area, the party spotted scorched rope and another ominous pool of liquid at the base of the ruin’s entrance. Something had either fled inside or emerged unseen
The party, grim but resolute, returned to the spotless halls that had first stirred suspicion and began their search. A trail of liquid travelling through the halls seemingly the only thing that indicated anything that had passed through this area. These rooms, eerily untouched by the decay surrounding them, felt too perfect, too preserved. As they pushed deeper with a handful of scholars in tow, a soft dripping noise caught their attention. Heads tilted back just in time to witness a thick glob of jelly-like slime drop from above, splattering across their shoulders and arms. It burned as it touched skin, acidic and alive; A sudden, vicious contrast to the sterile quiet that had lulled them into a false sense of safety.
The party followed the halls and rooms and eventually stepped out from the polished hallways into the yawning mouth of a cavern that swallowed sound and light alike. Stone platforms jutted out over a lake of thick, light green liquid that shimmered like oil under torchlight, ripples pulsing from nowhere and yet everywhere. The air hung heavy with the scent of rust and something far older. At the far end, half-shrouded in steam rising from the lake, loomed a massive metallic figure; humanoid in shape, but twisted with wrongness. Pocked and scarred across its surface, it loomed still and watching, with metallic pseudopods frozen mid-reach from its torso, as if caught in the act of crawling free.
The adventurers crept forward, each step echoing off stone as they traversed across the slippery raised platforms. Below them, the water stirred; slow and deliberate, responding to their presence. The statue’s form appeared cast from once-polished metal, now streaked with the same green liquid that coated the cavern’s depths. Droplets slid down its face, giving the impression it was weeping, and under flickering torchlight, the tentacle-like appendages seemed to writhe. As they approached, the viscous water began to gather, slithering into itself, pooling and reshaping. Somewhere behind, a scholar whispered a prayer. Ahead, the silence fractured as water rushed and a creature coalesced, dripping from the statue in a perfect mimicry of its monstrous form.
Thanks for joining me today for another adventure. Please feel free to leave comments if you like what you see when you grab a copy of the PDF. Next time you get a party together consider running this adventure and I hope that you enjoy it. Don’t forget to come back daily so you don’t miss a thing in the coming weeks adventures. And as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
Tonight we are investigating Solbrook’s Environment and we start off with the ruins and the Ooze Temple itself. While I continue to create a little repository of environments to use I focus on reuse where possible and the mechanics can be twisted to suit on other adventures pretty easily – which I like.
So sit back, grab a coffee or other hot beverage and let’s roll into tonight’s adventure!
Solbrook’s Environment
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The Solbrook ruins have drawn the Scholars of Yole to come investigate the knowledge that the ruins may offer. With the party aiding in the search they may find useful secrets or even better – relics that explain what happened here. But be warned as there are traps littered through the rooms, the hallways and on the doors that smash, squish and pulverise those who get to close.
Further into the ruins where its danker and darker they might even encounter the cleaners of these rooms – oozes or slimes that search for food deep into the ruins as they creep outwards from the Ooze Temple.
The temple itself is surrounded by pools of slime and water as the creatures call not just the pools but the surfaces home and their hunting grounds. The largest of the slimes, those that create the others, call the pox marked – half consumed statue as their house and they defend it greedily. Which is a shame as the urns, boxes and other magically protected vessels hold items and wealth that would be a monumental find for anyone – let alone the Scholars of Yole.
The above Adversary and Environment Stat blocks were created by me. Rules were adapted and inspired by adversaries and environments from the Daggerheart System Reference Document 1.0 and any likeness is the copyright of DRP, Darrington Press, who are the creators of the material (Environment Stat Blocks). This content was modified/created is licensed under the DRP Community Gaming License which can be found here: Darrington Press CGL.
Thanks for joining me tonight for a little expansion for this weeks encounter where we look deeper at some of the environments for the Daggerheart RPG system. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the end of week Zine and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
It’s not much of a surprise as many seasoned adventurers that dank, old placed house creatures most foul and the Temple of Ooze is no exception.
So grab a coffee, maybe a good club or some fire to combat tonight’s encounter!
Temple of Ooze
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Temple of Ooze – created in WordPress.
For D&D Systems
D&D Statblocks for Black Pudding, Gelatinous cube, Gray Ooze – created in Tetra-cube.
The Gelatinous cube appears in the rooms that have been cleaned from yesterdays map night. After dispatching the large cube the other oozes will come out of the water when the party enter the larger chamber. The Black pudding has feasted on the large statue but caused it to become fully corroded with large holes appearing periodically throughout it.
The oozes are all blind within 60ft so they are ambush predators that don’t move until food is near by. This means there will be more of them the further the party stray from the path so balancing the encounter could be difficult if realism is desired.
For Daggerheart Systems
The above Adversary Stat blocks were sourced from the Daggerheart System Reference Document 1.0 and are the copyright of DRP, Darrington Press, who are the creators of the material (Adversary Stat Blocks). This content was not modified is licensed under the DRP Community Gaming License which can be found here: Darrington Press CGL.
The green oozes would live in the buildings and the water but I would have the Red oozes live in the statue and come out when the party is close. Starting combat hidden before they attack from hiding after activating slowly. They are slow creatures so having more of them prepared and enter the battlefield through an environmental action is a good way to spend fear to keep up the pressure and pace of the encounter, within reason of course.
Thanks for visiting tonight for another set of updates for this weeks adventure featuring some additional Daggerheart content. Don’t forget to come back over the weekend for more updates and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
The Solbrook Ruins spread deep under ground and reveal the source, or a source, of the plentiful bounties for the wheat on the surface above. But the ruins hold something more deadly.
So grab a coffee, grab some additional rope and maybe a towel as we check out tonight’s map!
A simple one tonight with a few layers, sections to get the visualisation effect that I wanted. Deep into the structure itself there is a shrine filled with mineral rich waters that seem to flow and move as if alive – a hint at what’s to come.
Some of the rooms are already open, the traps set off at the doors and the floors surprisingly clean. But there is still a lot of debris, refuse and more that litters the floor and rooms elsewhere in the map.
Thanks for joining for another map night this week. Don’t forget that we have a few more nights left this week so make sure to come back each day to see what I add to this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
Tonight we encounter the force that was locked, sealed, forgotten and luckily lost beneath Solbrook. But now that the doors have been opened and with the traps being disabled things start to go bad.
So grab a coffee, maybe organise some extra guards to patrol the sink hole as we find trouble in tonight’s adventure!
Locked, Sealed, Forgotten
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Locked, Sealed, Forgotten – created in Copilot.
The party had elected to return to the ruins the following day to explore the cleaner rooms deeper into the ruins below. As they settled into their tents, stored the small relics and treasures in wooden chests the party prepared to get some rest. They hadn’t encountered any thing dangerous in the buildings so far and the treasures they had recovered that the scholars had deemed not significant enough for them to keep for themselves but something was definitely wrong with the rooms they had uncovered.
The party had just started to get ready for bed when the sound of alarms rang out. Pulling on their gear and rushing towards the sound of panic the party found themselves amongst a group of scholars, merchants and a few mercenaries who guarded the sinkhole. At the feet of everyone, once the party pushed through the gathering, lay one of the guards who ensured no one descended the rope ladder closest to the statue.
The man was covered in burns, his clothes had singe marks and even his armour looked damaged in points as if covered in fire. However the scholars and a medic nearby announced his cause of death to be drowning. A pool of liquid had poured from his mouth when he had been found and most of it had been captured in a vial – to be studied later.
There were no witnesses to how this had happened and no evidence of foul play, monsters or acts of random magic. That was until the party examined the rope bridge and saw similar burns covered the extend of the rope. Following their gaze downwards they spotted a pool of liquid near the revealed entrance to the underground structure. Something had either fled to the building when spooked, or had come out of it when no one was looking.
Gathering their supplies and with a small group of scholars the party got ready for what lay ahead.
Thanks for dropping by for another night at my tabletop. Don’t forget as we passed the midway point we have maps and monsters, well creature stat blocks left for this week. So make sure you don’t forget to come back the last few remaining days this week to stay up to date with what’s happening at my tabletop. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
The Scholars of Yole come from a society that specialises in the lost, forgotten and hidden. But the search for that what was lost by the Scholars of Yole comes at a cost, a price that they need adventurers to help their cause. As those that hide, lose and choose to forget want them to remain so and the knowledge, relics and discoveries normally do so for a reason.
So grab a coffee to go, maybe a notepad or book, as we meet the Scholars in tonight’s adventure!
Scholars of Yole
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Scholars of Yole – Created in Copilot.
The large tent boasted some of the messiest living quarters that has ever been seen. Shelves and bookcases that stretched from ground to canvas roof lined most of the tents and even acted as dividers for bed quarters for the Scholars of Yole. In front of the chaotic walls of shelving, books, scrolls and trinkets was a large wooden desk that had a young man sitting behind it scribbling in a ledger.
As men and women walked up to the front desk the man behind took their name, their occupation and then offered them a sum of money. As the parties approached the desk they could see that the man was in fact a young adult dwarf with a well groomed beard, neat overcoat and glassed. ‘Name and occupation please.’ the man asked as they stood before the desk. Upon hearing that the were adventurers he looked up at the party. ‘All here as one hey? And just in time as we just uncovered the way in.’ he said as he scratched in some notes in his ledger before opening a different book.
‘Ten gold pieces a day, double if you see combat, twenty gold pieces if you are seriously hurt, a further twenty if you are mortally wounded.’ he offered and pushed out the book to see the terms and conditions listed out. It was noted that based on what they had discovered so far that they would expect a few days exploration, at most a week. As they considered the gold they noted a finders clause that gives them the claim to any equipment, artefacts, relics or treasure that is found within the construct that was not deemed to have significant importance.
The next two days went by without massive incident. The party acted as the scouts and vanguards for the scholars as they explored further into the buried passageways, halls and rooms. Each room had some form of trap before the door which was easy to detect and soon the party expected a new trap to be just before every door.
Each room progressively got in a worse state with the first one being rich in items of significant importance to the scholars. However, as they travelled deeper into the structure they found many of the artefacts destroyed and eaten away by time and decay. As they pushed into the third day they came across a room which was spotlessly clean with no evidence of the moulded, decayed wood, fabrics or metals that the previous rooms had.
However, the door to the next room was opened and the trap had been sprung without any sign of what had triggered it. As the scholars looked around the room to take notes the party noticed that the next room and hall was much the same, spotlessly clean with another open door and another set off trap. Something was not adding up.
Thanks for visiting tonight for another update for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back the last few nights this week to make sure that you don’t miss anything that happens with this adventure. And, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage, The Brazen Wolfe
Brazen Wolfe Tabletop 