One-shot

Bramblewall Tent Village

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The party start their investigations, small spoiler, at the Bramblewall Tent village where they hope to catch these Race Riggers in the act. The Bramblewall Tent village only appears during the races and its where the folk less inclined to height watch the races and buy the goods that are sold from many tents. Tonight’s map isn’t so much an indicative map of what exactly is where but can be used to describe the general layout (as I dislike city map making- event tent city apparently).

But let’s not get lost in the crowd at the market and simple move onwards to find the source of the trouble as well as the best bargains.

Bramblewall Tent Village

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Bramblewall Tent Village – Created in Inkarnate.

Without village guards as such the merchants of this village either employ their own bodyguards and/or bouncers or they fall on the benevolence of the people that offer protection services to the tents without guards just about everything can be found in these tents which makes them both dangerous and wondrous. Many merchants have inflated prices – but they know how to haggle and will do so for those with a keen eye and wit.

Most of the people here a fair, honest working traders – but the party are seeking those who are not. It wont take them long to see the brown coated fellows and ladies moving from tent to tent but what will they do to get the information they need and afterwards, what to do with such information?

The trees provide a basis for a few smaller huts hat grace the sides of these wooden giants and they care connected by rope bridges (mostly ladders suspended horizontally by rope). So those afraid of heights or clumsy be aware or the dangers ascending to the village above.

Thanks for joining me tonight for another map night. Not quite happy with this one but I think its just my trepidation with making villages and towns. But regardless whether its this or something else that makes it into the Zine this weekend we will just have to wait and see. Don’t forget to come back the last few days of this week and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Racing Riggers

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The Racing riggers are a generalised term for the underbelly of the treetop racing yearly event that happens in Bramblewall. This group of loan sharks, thugs and brokers organises the betting system and, with either bribery or malpractice, will ensure that the racers who will make them the most gold, win or loose. But not everyone is within their grasp and tonight we get a glimpse at how far they are willing to go to ensure that the little gnome called Twig, does not shake the tree too hard.

But so we can get to that we need to grab a coffee, sit down and read through tonight’s adventure!

The Racing Riggers

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Alkerion – Created in Artbreeder.

Alkerion strode through the beginnings of the racers market and marvelled at the goods and the people it brought to the village. Being the winner two years in a row Alkerion was a bit of a celebrity and many people called out to him to come and try their products or browse their wares. But he wasn’t interested in free samples – he showed off his presence to ensure that the market would be a success. He had always been focused on doing what was best for Bramblewall and keeping up the traditions. He hand picked potential elven stars of the race to come and fly birds from his roosts as they provided the best show for the viewers and brought more commerce into the tree top village.

But he could not abide the ruffians and the race riggers that had also called these events their home, their hunting grounds. They preyed on the weak and set back the good honest folk who were here to spend their coin and time enjoying what his village had to offer. Sure they had offered him wealth and riches but Alkerion only took what was required to keep the birds fed and his stable thatched.

He continued down amongst the tents and stalls and smiled, spoke and greeted the guests to the village, his village. The one his ancestors had built and the one he intended would remain a beacon for the elven customs for centuries to come.

Across the way between the walls of two fabric tents a man stood and watched the ‘prince of Bramblewall’ stride about the tents. He smiled at the prospect that this year he may be swayed when he revealed what was changing about his beloved sport. But perhaps he did not need to do much as the odds were always in Alkerions favour.

Jack Wilder – created in Artbreeder.

But that wasn’t the reason he watched the elf, no he would roll out that bait in just a little while. As soon as the elf was gone from view he moved forward and his associates began to move. As they approached stalls and tents they started their game. Talking about the odds of the races, how the last years races made a merchant richer than their sales ever could and how just with a little help from a friendly local that merchant walked away and was able to buy a mansion.

Most people showed them on but a few asked for more information. Jack knew that this is the moment he and his associates waited for and they reeled them in. Promises of assistance and even lending of money if they were short for making it big on the bets that were sure to employ all tactics to drum up the hunger for gambling.

Jack knew that this year would be ripe for the plucking but he still had that gnome to deal with. His boss had said that she couldn’t be bought, but Jack thought he knew better. A way to crumble to hearts of stone in one play.

The final pieces make a move to what will inevitably become the parties primary objective this adventure. Finding and stopping the threat of the Race Riggers. But more on that as the days go on. So don’t forget to come back each remaining night this week for more content and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Just Twig

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The forest treetop town of Bramblewall is home to many races but most common is the forest gnomes and elves, and tonight we meet Twig, just Twig. Twig is a bit of an odd name for a forest gnome, let alone a person but she was anything but ordinary when she was found in Bramblewall.

Twig has big dreams to change the rules of the village, the rules that keep the little folk down and those of renown and prestige on top. But can the little gnome change how things are done in the village? Only time can tell.

Just Twig

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Twig – Created in Nightcafe.

As Alkerion rounded the bend again Twig took down the lap time and calculated how many laps he, and his bird Jesper, would be able to complete with a full day’s flight. The only issue is that Twig knew that Jesper would need to rest after each flight due to the bird’s lower stamina. Landing and drinking deeply from a bucket of nectar Jesper panted as it recovered. Luckily Twig had something to show Alkerion.

“Alkerion! I think you should have a look at something.” she called out as she ran over with the data on her parchment.

“Did I get faster? How many laps per day do you think we can make?” Alkerion asked as she brushed bugs out of Jespers feathers and from his coat.

“Well yes. Overall faster but Jesper needs to rest for longer to get his energy from the nectar.” she began.

“Good, I will get Jesper ready to go at once to see if I can improve the time. How many laps per day was it?” Alkerion asked as he checked the saddle and harness again.

“26, but Jesper needs to rest more to feed for longer. So 24 or 25 at most is the safe number.” Twig said. “I have a solution though, a lightweight pack that enables Jesper to feed as he flies” she hurriedly spoke as she ran over with the contraption made from insect chitin.

“No, we’ve been over this poor Twig. Jesper will be fine. We just need to work on his stamina and all will be well. He feeds plenty when we stop. Any more and I will lose too much time.” Alkerion began waving off Twig and the contraption. “Stick to what you are paid to do, record my times, keep an eye on the competition. That is all you are good for so stick to it now little Twiggy.” Alkerion said as he mounted the giant bird. Jesper looked longingly at the bucket of nectar that lay half eaten as he still continued to pant.

“It’s Twig, just Twig.” she said back to Alkerion who flew off without registering her reply. Twig hated how he called her Twiggy. She was made for more than just this and she was going to prove it. She reset the device as the elf racer took off and watched as the numbers increased with the passing seconds and minutes. “Jesper deserves better.” she muttered as she walked off holding her invention.

The party knocked on the door at the cabin at the base of one of the trees. Looking up above the building ladders and stairs were built into the side of the tree and wound its way up into the treetop village above. A few moments of movement in the building passed before a man with a walking cane appeared. “I’ve been expecting you, come in please.” the kind old elf smiled and hobbled towards some seating made from smoothed out roots of the tree.

“Now I can’t thank you enough. As you can assume I am Julaor, not a very traditional elven name I am afraid but it is what it is.” he said with a smile as he offered some steaming cups towards them. “Fern-leaf Tea any one?”

After the party had sat down in the old elves hut he procured a large book from the table and opened it to a page. “I am the custodian of the races, a tradition that used to be a rite of passage for the young elves of this village. But over time it has evolved and changed and much like the great redwoods we live on we must adapt and grow over time. Each year I find the similar names on the roster and I ensure that they abide by the code with the mounts that they enter.” he said as he flicked deeper into the book.

“And the past few years, with the coming of the hubbub outside,” he gestured to the tent city of the Treetop Races market that was forming, “I find more people profiteering out of something that was a traditional ceremony. Now there are no laws against it but when it endangers the life of the riders that is something that I can’t abide by. This year though there is something unusual. We have new racers, not all too unusual admittedly, but new breeds of mounts have been added. We have a creature that I have been informed is herbivorous that meets the criterion and we also have our first mammal. Now I suspect that this will create chaos and a new market in which people can exploit. What I have requested aid in is protecting the riders, all of them, from outside influence and where you deem it necessary to step in further then I can give you the authority as Roost Wardens to manage the safety of the mounts and racers in this race.” he finished as he produced a wooden box.

“I can pay you this now, and then double again when the job is done if you are found to be up to the task. If you find the source of corruption I want it removed. But quietly. It can’t be found out that the village is orchestrating this, it needs to look like it was done by another’s hand. ” Julaor said as he looked at each of the adventurers before him.

A shorter one tonight, and that’s not a height joke due to the gnome at the centre of our adventure. This week the focus won’t be so much on the NPCs involved but the interactions on the players and the story. There are a few paths and ways out of this where we will investigate what is going on and how to overcome the obstacles. But for that to really take place you’ll have to find out what lies in wait for the party. So don’t forget to come back each day this week for the expanding content of the adventure and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Treetop Racers

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Welcome to a wonderful part of the land where the giants stand tall and the treetop racers are kings and queens. The giants in question are ancient protected trees where the village of Bramblewall sits nestled amongst the tree tops and clouds. The treetop racers are the group of people who dare to tame and raise the giant birds of the forest and who take part in racing them in a set course.

This sport is the highlight of not only the village but travellers from all around gather for this yearly event where the markets that spring up around this bring a wide variety of goods both magical and mundane. But the gambling also has made people as rich as kings over the course of the multi-course race. This alone brings in the most notorious of brokers and loan sharks to the village where the stakes are as high as the race course.

The air up in the treetops of Bramblewall is clear and fresh. The sounds of the bird life is both beautiful and a shock as the giant avians call the roof of many houses their nests. However an underdog of the racing world has appeared with a new complication. For it’s not just birds that call the treetops home and there is one who wants to turn this world upside down.

With so many people with skin and gold in the race any upsets could make or break entire organisations. Will the race be a fair test of feathers and flight or will the hopes of the treetop racers come crashing down amongst a cascade of broken branches and leaves.

For the party coming to the city was an opportunity for coin and for shopping, but they may leave with more if they bet on the right employer.

Treetop Racers

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Bramblewall Village – Created in Nightcafe.

The sounds of evening bird song rang out across the canopy and brought the day to an end across the houses. The people of Bramblewall had planned this race for over a year and the Treetop racers were already removing the saddles up their companions after a day of test flights through the course. Twig, a forest gnome of no real renown watched the last of the racers feed their giant bird mounts and disappear inside for the night.

This was her signal to prepare her own fine steed. As she scurried back inside her treetop house the prospect of falling hundreds of feet no longer worried her as the bridges wobbled from her passage. She had been watching the racers and timing them and their laps – it had been her job for many years after all. She had studied the rules and guides around the race for years. One hundred loops of the forest over four days and nights. Mounts must fly and live in the trees, must not breathe fire and must not be carnivorous. Most people had giant birds that fed from fruit, seeds or nectar from some of the giant flower species that grew from giant creeper vines amongst the trees.

But she had found a loophole. Not all herbivorous creatures in the forest who lived in trees were birds. She entered her treehouse and quickly gathered her things. A pair of riding goggles that had cost her a pretty bag of coin, riding leathers and furs as well as a sack full of fruit. Moving to the trapdoor; something that only her treehouse had, she lifted the hatch and entered a balcony area under her house that was surrounded by thatching, vines and thick foliage. There her mount and racing companion waited patiently. A giant fruit bat.

Larger than some of the birds that took place in the race her small stature made her weight manageable for the creature. She knew that during the daylight her bat, Honeysuckle, would be slower than the other avian mounts. But she had an advantage that they did not, she could fly at night. Feeding the giant bat the bag of fruit she readied the custom saddle and harness that would enable her to stay bound to the bat during the flight. Due to the small amount of weight it would be carrying it wouldn’t have to stop for much during the daylight and she calculated, a guess really, that during the night Honeysuckle would be faster than most of the daylight flying birds.

Having sated the bats hunger she climbed onto its back, giving it a good scratch and talking to it. She had found the bat injured as a pup, abandoned on the forest floor and had raised it openly first. But now she trained with it in secret as she knew how the others would react. But this was her year. She would no longer tally results and count the laps of Alkerion, the elven rider who flew on Jesper, a magnificent giant hummingbird. Jesper was easily the biggest giant hummingbird that had been seen, a mixture of selective breeding and elven magic allegedly – but all of it was legal according to the rule book. But The stamina of Honeysuckle would easily leave Jesper far behind in the rankings.

With a final pat Twig urged the bat to take flight and within seconds she was soaring through the evening along the course – the special gemstone in the goggles enabled her to see the forest in a grey light, colours stripped from the world around her but she was able to see the trail markers.

Within an hour she had completed two laps of the course and was half way through the next. She was timing herself on a small gnomish trinket and she couldn’t suppress her smile. She was at least half again as fast as many of the other riders. This would be a piece of cake as long as Honeysuckle’s stamina held up she had a strong chance to be the next winner of the Treetop Race.

However, on a lower treehouse in the main centre of Bramblewall a human watched the bat complete its laps. Looking up with a similar tinted pair of goggles the middle aged man took similar notes on the speed of the bat.

“Uh, King sir? I came as you requested and looked into the ruling as you wanted.” a stammering voice said from behind. King knew that his associate was there and was approaching, he prided himself on knowing what went on in this city when it came to the races. “It doesn’t specify that the racer has to be a bird, but I don’t know why that matters. There isn’t another creature as fast as the birds that fly here that won’t eat them or the riders.” the boy said.

“Interesting that you say that. Not another animal that doesn’t fly as fast as the birds.” King said slowly. “Make sure that I have no plans or other engagements tomorrow at lunch, I have a potential client to go talk to.” he said as he watched the bat complete the third lap in the same time it would take half the birds to complete two at most. “Interesting indeed.”

Now this week we have something a bit different. Racing on giant birds in a giant forest with giant odds stacked against a plucky young gnome and her bat. This week is shaping up to be massive, so don’t forget to come back each day as we expand upon the adventure. And finally, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Softer Were-Folk

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Tonight we look at the softer were-folk that we are encountering this week. The weredeer and wererabbit. While not violent and inherently predisposed to evil as werewolves of wererats these creatures are softer and more timid.

While werebears tend to not inflict their disease on creatures due to their understanding of it as a curse and weretigers not inflicting it due to the prospect of sharing tendencies wererabbits and weredeers, the softer were-folk don’t inflict it because they don’t want to inflict harm in others. This makes them perfect as prey or slaves to their more vicious cousins.

And that is where we find ourselves tonight, prey or slaves and a glimmer of hope for a cure if they can escape for long enough. Clinging to the party and guards with a desperate hope these lycanthropes just want to be free. So to find out more let’s grab a coffee, sit down and roll into tonight’s adventure.

Softer Were-Folk

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The sounds of snapping twigs and branches followed the party as they trekked on foot with the prisoners; now in their hybrid lycanthrope forms, hunched down behind them. The large ears of the wererabbits and the twitching nose of the weredeers revealed that they were aware of the creatures that stalked them. And how nervous they were.

The party had split from the guard with a hastily drawn map from Boris. They had taken the remaining functional wagon and most of the lycanthrope prisoners-come-refugees and had ridden off to lead the man and his rats away from the party who had snuck off with some of the folk when the coast was clear. Watching the hoard of giant rats, and the man in a coat, chasing after them was relieving. After a few hours of moving by moonlight they had become aware of creatures doubling back in search of stragglers.

Weredeer- created in tetra-cube.
Wererabbit – created in tetra-cube.

As the night went on the fog got deeper and the ground became harder to see – but they had managed to stay on course from the passage of the moon, stars and from identifying some key landmarks. But they were not out of the woods yet, figuratively and literally. By cutting through the woods they would make it to their destination by mid morning – if they travelled through the night. But it was a rough journey and pausing to avoid creatures in the forest only slowed them down.

Luckily the were-folk with them, three wererabbits and two weredeer were calm, fit and smart so travelling with them was easy. They seemed to shy away from the party, seemingly unwilling to get close to them for fear of infection. But there was no hint of malice in how they spoke or acted – a hopeful trust that the party would get them out of this situation.

And so the next few hours went, moving swiftly when the moon pierced the fog, stopping suddenly when something moved nearby and even having to fight off a few giant rats as they darted out of the darkness to attack the party. But the woods were full of noise and movement and the dawn couldn’t come soon enough.

Thanks for joining me for another night. Expanding this particular one-shot has been a pretty easy affair with the narrative nearly writing itself. I have covered it before in the past where there are only soo man fundamental quests for a D&D party and they differ from each other with the twists and NPCs. Tomorrow we have the PDF for this week coming out so don’t forget to come back for that and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Herald of Rats

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Now when you hear a title like herald of rats this is something that no one really wants to deal with. But this so called herald of rats is something more than just a man with a pan flute. No tonight we have something a bit different.

So without wasting any more time let’s grab a coffee, sit down and lets roll into tonight’s encounter.

Herald of Rats

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Giant Rat – created in Tetra-cube.

The man called out a high pitched whistle and suddenly the child sized creatures sped towards the wagons and the guards that defended it. As the fog whirled around the creatures the manic squeaking erupted from them as they pounced at the party and guards.

As the guards fought them back the prisoners in the wagon called out to be freed so they could escape the man. The unrelenting squeaking from the animals and the fog that seemed to swirl around the creatures made the fight more difficult than it needed to be. But as they were distracted with the rats a larger figure slunk around the combatants and headed towards the wagon.

Wererat – created in Tetra-cube.

The prisoners called out in a panicked cry as the party noticed a figure smashing through the locks on their wagons. Rushing forward to confront the man from before he snarled and fled into the foggy forest. The rats continued their attack on the party and guards and when the last of the creatures lay twitching in its death throes they regrouped at the campfire.

No one had suffered any major wounds, a few bites and scratches here and there but the locks on the wagons were broken beyond repair. The prisoners huddled together in a hybrid-animal form but their appearance was anything but hostile. Thanking the party for scaring off the man they stayed away from the busted door and watched the guards and the party nervously.

“Well what now?” Em called out as her and another guard, Kat, stood watching the prisoners.

“I don’t think we have seen the last of that man or his rats.” Boris said as he nursed a vicious looking bite on his forearm. “We are maybe a day’s travel from where we need to take them. Can we tie the cage shut or will we have to ensure they don’t leave?”

“We won’t leave, we don’t want to leave the cage.” one of the prisoners said. “We are seeking Pensevtil’s aid in healing us. But we are prisoners until we are cured, that is the law.” the woman said – her face resembling a hybrid of human and rabbit.

“Well… We have a long way to go. Can you walk?” Boris asked, noticing the damage to one of the wagon’s wheels.

“We can try,” the prisoners replied.

A wererat and his pets lies in wait for us this week as we continue the adventure onwards. Cowardly but cunning the man in the coat will continue as an adversary for this adventure as he seeks the docile prisoners. But more on that this weekend. So don’t forget to come back this weekend for more tabletop content and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Foggy Path

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The fog is a great way to make easy encounters more difficult but what if the encounters are already difficult. The Foggy path does just that where even with an additional five mercenaries on their side the party is facing overwhelming odds, unless they do something perhaps a bit reckless. This week is about assessment of the situation, the overwhelming odds in combat and, learning additional rules.

But let’s not get mystified with the fog, or mist, any longer. So grab a coffee, sit down and let’s dive into the map for tonight.

The Foggy Path

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The Foggy Path – Created in Inkarnate.

With the guards taking the path through the woods it was only a matter of time until they were ambushed. The attacker from before who escaped, with an arrow wound as thanks for his company, returns with more feral allies this time and they make full use of the foggy path. The fog lies thick and heavy across the battlefield with the distant torches acting like micro beacons that help discern movement and placement but without aiding anything to visually identifying anything. This makes this weeks encounter a game of cat and mouse.

To complicate it – a cage full of, somewhat docile, lycanthropes who are the target of the attack. The hard decision will have to come at some stage on what to do. But we will touch on that this weekend.

The map is a simple affair with a few overlapping terrain paints, overlapping fog and light sources to give a “blinding” effect where the main campfire is. The horses are hitched on the wagons, but maybe not for long and the party will have to fight amongst the trees, in the fog. Or flee through it if that is the more wise course of action.

Thanks for joining me tonight for a glimpse at the foggy path. Not my best name for a map but it will have to do, for now. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for some stat-blocks for the encounter and a reminder that the PDF will be coming out this weekend. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

They Came for Them

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Generally an escort mission goes one of two ways; either those being escorted go haywire, or, they came for them. Who are they you might ask? Why its the associates, a mutual interested party, assassins or in this case – creators. While people creating generally is something that happens naturally not all creation is such. A bit of a darker one this week with it turning from an ‘escort the prisoners’ to a ‘save the VIP’.

But enough on that here, let’s grab a coffee, sit down and roll into tonight’s adventure.

They Came for Them

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The calls of alarm woke the party from their rest and they roused quickly from their slumber. The prisoners were crying softly nearby and the musky stench of fear was getting stronger with the passing moment. Above them a full moon shone down and pierced through the fog revealing several shapes moving closer. The hunched forms scurried across the ground at the edge of the torch light – but they were waiting for something.

A larger figure strode from the shadows, the large long coat covered most of a plain tunic but did nothing to hide the sword and hand crossbow on the stranger’s hip. “Ahoy. A pleasant evening for a stroll under the moonlight isn’t it?” the voice called as several bows trained on him as the guards took up a well trained formation.

“Now we can do this the easy way or the messy way. You have something that belongs to me. Those creatures you have in the cage on wheels – I will have them” he said with a trained gesture.

“Now why the bloody hell would we give them to you?” Boris called out, placing his axe over his shoulder, aware of the several shapes moving amongst the darkness around the flank of the wagons and his formation. “We are entrusted to ensure these people get to their destination. Unharmed, mind you.” Boris added.

“That’s where we have a clash of thoughts I am afraid. You see they are my property, I created them and while they are not perfect, yet, I assure you I will make them so.” the man replied, the look of confusion on the guards faces brought a cruel smirk out of him. “Oh, you don’t know what they are. They have done such a good job hiding it. But I assure you, any moment now you will see why you simply must hand them over to me.” The man said with a chuckle.

The cages containing the prisoners rattled and voices broke out amongst them. “No, brother, don’t. Don’t let him get to you, fight it. Don’t let it out!” one man said to another. The latter was trembling, wide eyed and looking terrified. But that wasn’t all, he was changing before the eyes of those who watched. His form shrunk, his bones and face distorted and soon a furry humanoid sat there shivering. The transformation of one of the caged lycanthropes caused all of them to begin to cry out and plead for help as they all too began to shift. However, the normally cruel forms of lycanthropes were not present, a softer, more scared creature sat before them. Large soft ears, large round eyes and soft paws were present more akin to a mouse or rabbit as opposed to a rat, wolf or worse.

“Ah, right on time. As you can see these nasty creatures best come with me and my associates shall we call them. So what say you?” the man asked.

“I say…” Boris said as he looked from his wards to the men and creatures in the mist. “I say Guards! Attack!”

One of the encounters for this week has been revealed with a twist. While not all baddies, prisoners or otherwise are evil these ones definitely aren’t as we will explore this week. So with the twist revealed we next have the location and the encounters itself – so you best not forget to come back each day remaining this week to stay up to date with the adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Boris’s Guard

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The men and women that Boris hire to be part of his crew when working for him are known simple as Boris’s Guard. They are far from elite warriors but under the firm guidance of Boris’s keen mind they have faced off worse foes than many. Despite all of them coming from a diverse background they each blended well and complimented their fellow guards skills well.

But not everything is always peachy perfect, there are rough spots to any team and Boris’s Guard is no exception. So grab a coffee, sit back and let’s explore what the guard has in store for us this week.

Boris’s Guard

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Boris Izenhowlser – Created in Artbreeder.

The fog that had come in from the trees at night was expected. Boris had planned for this and had set up mounted torches at the edge of their camp that ensured that there were no significant shadows between the trees and where they had stopped for the night. Cookie, Luke, had organised enough food for the guard, the party and even the prisoners and was busy ensuring everyone got fed. When he returned from the wagons though he had a concerned look on his face.

“The prisoners won’t eat. They keep looking out beyond the torchlight like a Tarrasque is about to step out of it and eat them. Maybe the adventurers are right, when we saw those tracks the prisoners mentioned that something was after them.” he continued as he handed a bowl of stew to the party – it was good stew.

Boris was the last to eat and as usual as per the last few nights, he was the one who insisted that he walk to each torch mounted on a post and ensure that they were lit and placed correctly. As the guards watched Boris walking about, a large broad headed axe was held ready in his hand but swung by his side. “What do you think they did?” one of the guards, Ron asked. “If they are spooked by something following them, maybe they betrayed a cartel?”

“Nah I reckon they were found to be spies from the fey. You know that they inhabit these woods?” Kat said looking around the woods with a twinkle in her eye.

“You’re all wrong. They are just normal prisoners. Probably thieves.” Dorn said as he chewed on his stew.

“But why are we being paid this much to guard them to Pensevtil. You know that a wizard runs that place? He is only interested in the truly messed up and arcane.” Raff said boldly as he leaned forward.

Em Wannapeek – Created in Artbreeder.

“Now let’s not go looking into ghost stories now. We have reason to suspect that there may be people that want this group free but the chance of that is low.” Em, Boris’s second in command announced as she watched some of the other guards start talking. “Besides, we’re scarier than whatever is out there.” she added which brought upon a small cheer.

“Enough of that.” Boris said, appearing as if a ghost himself behind the guards. “I want three guards on watch at any time tonight. This fog may be natural but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Tomorrow we will ensure we set up above the fog so we have better visibility.” he said as he grabbed a bowl of stew from Cookie, thanking him as he sat down. 

“Now I spent some time thinking about the bandits that we encountered on the way here – I think they were just being opportunistic. Thinking to make some coin from the prisoners after they disposed of us.” he mused as he ate. “Any other theories?”

“From the ones we dispatched there was nothing to indicate otherwise.” Dorn replied, normally the silent one of the group.

“One did flee, but I got him with my bow” Kat said as she mimed firing an arrow.

“Yeah he won’t last more than a day with that wound” Raff added, the others and Boris nodding.

“But I don’t think he was that wounded. Something was a bit off about that one bandit fleeing. Normally Kat’s shots lay a man flat in the ground. But this one kept running. Something unnatural about that unless,” Em paused for a moment, “Unless Kat – were you off your game?”

Kat mocked looking shocked and insulted “Why I never. I am never off my game.” she replied, shooting a mock-glare at Em.

“Exactly, mark my words. That one that escaped wasn’t natural.” Em added. Boris nodded before adding “Ensure that we keep an eye out until we drop off the prisoners. If you see something odd, shoot first, ask questions later.” he said as he brought out a peculiar medallion and looked knowingly at everyone – the party inclusive.

The Guard

Luke Arden ‘cookie’ – created in Artbreeder.
Ron Kesper – Created in Artbreeder.
Kat Farmgate – created in Artbreeder.
Dorn Brumble – Created in Artbreeder.
Raff Blitzword – Created in Artbreeder.

It’s shaping up to be a big one this week and we have quite a few NPCs this week. I don’t go through all the Prisoners but having names will help at least, but that can be for another night. With tomorrow night changing what we know about this weeks adventure don’t forget to come back then. And, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Guarding Prisoners

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Welcome to the third week of the year and we find our party on bit of hard times, guarding prisoners. It’s not the most glamorous of jobs but this on pays exceedingly well, shockingly well in fact to the point that one could assume something was wrong with the job. But perhaps that would be the paranoia speaking. Then again, perhaps it’s not just paranoia.

The guards made it look easy back in the tavern and the promise of gold, victory and the fame that came from these jobs made it sound all worthwhile. Boy were they wrong. The bright moon heralds a darkness to the night that the party are told to fear. There is something that stalks them on the tracks through the woods, between the trees and through the brush.

The wizard is paying them handsomely, two weeks worth of wages for something that would take no longer than three days of travel – but the realisation comes too late that it’s all hazard pay. How could guarding and escorting prisoners to some remote prison be a hard gig. That was until the mission changed.

The flight for their life wasn’t the worst part, it was the exhaustion as day turned to night and night turned to days and days into a week as they tried to complete the job.

Guarding Prisoners

403MoGuPr

The Musty Oak – Created in Nightcafe.

“The guards seemed relaxed as they lounged in the bench-booths of the Musty Oak and waited for the last of their ales to arrive. The coin flowed freely from their hands as they paid for their meals and boasted of their exploits to any who would listen, and many who cared not to. But the adventure, the wealth and the way that they spoke of their job made being idle and completing little jobs for little merchants sound utterly pitiful.

As they watched the guards enjoyed the comforts of being well paid and looked at their, in comparison, meagre meal before them. “Now now, don’t look too disheartened. Just so happens I know the boss of that crew and he is in need of some more men for a job.” the innkeeper said as he passed along a pint of ale, the first shouts of “Ales on me!” came from one of the younger guards at the table.

“If you are interested, Boris is sitting by himself over there,” he pointed to the quieter side of the he inn at a large man. “He is studying for the job.” the innkeeper chuckled and shook his head.

The Road to Pensevtil- Created in Nightcafe.

The job. This wasn’t exactly what they had in mind but the pay was significantly disproportionate to the work itself. The job was simple: transport two wagons filled with prisoners by road to some remote prison and deliver them to a man called Pensevtil. The prisoners were bound but sat quietly as they travelled in the well made wagons. The wagons were barred but constructed of ironbound hard wood that looked like it could contain an owlbear.

As they moved down the road the guards joked crudely and made fun of the prisoners but they were not cruel. The head guard, Boris, scouted the roads and was always looking forward. When he thought something was not quite right or needed further investigation he would bark out an order and one or two guards would immediately fall into line and move to investigate.

“The men respect Boris,” the company’s cook would say when watching one such order being given. “Boris is rarely surprised nor wrong when it comes to trouble and the boys have learnt to listen to the old vet. They say he commanded an army once but he won’t say why he isn’t still.” Cookie was an odd half-elf. He definitely got more of his human parents appearance but despite being quite ugly, he was tall and lanky with slightly pointed ears.

The men came back reporting nothing again but something near the road itself stood out to the party. Broken brush, several somethings had passed through here and they had broken some of the bracken that grew just under the trees. There were also signs of the passage of creatures further into the trees and they found fresh signs of the creatures. Whatever they were there were a few and they were nearby. Boris seemed pleased at the discovery and ordered the guards to be more alert which caused them to grumble but obey quickly and efficiently. One of the prisoners was staring into the woods when the party walked near the wagon, a look of fear and apprehension was clear on its face.

“It’s coming.” is all he muttered when they drew near and when they looked at the other prisoners all of them had the same haunted look.

Another week started and something a bit different. The classic guard trope with a twist, or two, as the party explore this adventure that we craft this week. Don’t forget that each day we expand this adventure so you better not forget to come back each day to keep tabs on whats going on here. And finally, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe