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Campaign Journal - XIX April MMIII

Top level Ga Campaign Notes GA

Notes from Tony's campaign

After gathering their corralled horses, the party set off for the rim of the high moor. Yet they had barley begun the trip when, as they approached one of the southern most towers, a blast of freezing cold halted them in their tracks. An apparition started to materialise before them and appeared to be the source of the cold. Clutching a ghostly sword in its skeletal hand, it struck a posse suggesting that it would halt anyone who intended to pass.

Before anyone could discuss the matter or reason could take hold, Quazi spurred his horse into battle. Drawing the huge sword he had looted from the tomb, he closed on the apparition and took a mighty swipe. The sword passed right through it, its weight unbalancing and almost unhorsing Quazi in the process. At the same time, the apparition lashed out at Quazi with its ghostly sword, which went through aromour as if it were not there and inflicted a numbing chill to his abdomen.

The others soon decided to join Quazi in battle. Rocheval called on his swords magic which appeared to work, flashing as it smote the apparition. Yet he did not escape unscathed, the apparition struck him on his leg with, causing it to loose all feeling as the frozen blade bit deep into his flesh. With no way of maintaining his stirrup, he slid from his horses back when it wheeled to charge back.

Noting how Rocheval was able to damage the creature using magic, Quazi cast down his looted sword and brought forward Blut Trink, the magical vampiric sword from the Misty Isle. Amis also got in on the battle, casting damage boosting on her arrows, which she then shot at and woefully missed the creature with.

While all this was going on, Tiberius and his orcs held back, not wanting to get to close to the malevolent being. Horsa on the other hand made a dash for the sword dropped by Quazi. Fand and Ethnea joined in the battle, but due to their lack of magic, were unable to assist much, other than distract the apparition, allowing Quazi to smite at it with Blut Trink. Honsu made himself useful by healing Rocheval's leg. Assailed from all sides, the apparition faded away.

Tiberius and the orcs were very keen to leave and the party made good time, eventually encamping in a hollow near the edge. They had passed some peat bogs a while back and Horsa returned with some sacks to collect the flammable material. The party was grateful for the warmth provided by the peat fires and in the process, Horsa gained an orc apprentice, whom was keen to learn the art of smithing.

After descending the highlands, the party made its way to Dun Athol. With a bit of the olde role play fast forward, vast distances were traversed in minutes. On approaching Dun Athol, the party noted the lack of populace. They had not come across one war band in the disputed lands and outlying farms were all either deserted (and well looted) or burned down. Only once Dun Athol was in sight did they start to come by sparse farms, where surly peasants busied themselves harvesting vegetables and tending their onesha crops.
The city itself was in a surly mood. While the party (whom many viewed as a war band) was allowed entrance, they were not made to feel very welcome. There was much talk of an invading army to the south. The cavalry garrison had departed for the capital, Drascor, followed by a battalion of foot soldiers, much bolstered by many of the cities youths seeking adventure. Word had it that rather than become embroiled in the upcoming war, most of the free companies campaigning in the disputed lands had headed for Sylmar.

The party was able to rest and trade for a day before moving south. The stone road south allowed for much faster travel. Any parts that had been overgrown, were now cleaned by the passing of the Dun Athol battalions. Yet only a days march from the city, farms were again seen to be deserted. Unlike further north, none had been put to the torch, rather they looked like the occupants had hastily left.

After some days of travel Tiberius' Heavy Horse (for that is what it had become known as) came across a scouting party of the invading army. Their banner depicted a twin headed serpent on a green background. They were all mounted and bore arms and armour. A single horseman approached them to parley. He was clad in brigantine armour, his plate helm hung from his saddle. Over his armour he wore a surcoat adorned with the same twin headed serpent motif as flew from the pennant on his lance head.

Introducing himself as Lantillo, he claimed to be of The Knights of Draldeath. The weight of his words fell on deaf ears however as most members of the party were ill versed in local history. Fortunately someone was able to remember an old tale of the order. It was a tale used to scare disobedient children. The Knights of that tale had been villains, who had eventually been slain by The Knights of Osria and their allies.

In reality Lantillo offered friendship. The knights had no quarrel with Tiberius' Heavy Horse and would rather be on friendly terms with them. Lantillo's recruitment speech also fell upon deaf ears, but the Tiberius & co did accompany his scouting unit south, to the great crossroads.


The great crossroads was exactly what its name said it should be. The meeting of four stone roads. The one north led to Dun Athol, whence they had come from. South lay the capital, Drascor, the west road lead to Borador and east lay Wo and the gateway to Sylmar. A large village had developed at the crossroads, its merchants now doing a roaring trade servicing the knights whose entire force had encamped there. While few in numbers, (Rocheval counted around 100), they were all well armed and had excellent training.

The party rested at the crossroads, got drunk with the knights and generally (everyone except Quazi) made friends to these strange foreigners. They briefly learned of the knights history, but all to soon it was time to part ways. Tiberius' Heavy Horse headed south to Drascor, while the knights headed for Wo and their destiny.

Usually one of the busiest roads in the kingdom, the road to Drascor was unnaturally quiet. Wayside farms were either deserted, or manned by surly peasants. Inns would not board the heavy horse. Word of war had come and many had flocked to the safety of walled Drascor. Tiberius was not interested in tarrying or arguing with villagers, but rather bypassed villages and pushed on to Drascor.

Drascor itself was an impressive sight. The capital of the most prosperous land in Gaia, its high walls and battlements were impressive to behold. Less impressive was its closed gate. After some heated discussion with the gate guards and their commander, the heavy Horse were forced to make a detour around the city, keeping an eye out to ensure that no over eager cavalry officers were dispatched to engage them.

The country became wilder the further south they travelled. No stone road led from Drascor and the dirt roads they travelled were often poorly maintained. While Dalatia was the shining jewel of Gaia, its southern neighbour, Slavinia, was definitely the backwoods. Too many wars and ill government has caused Slavinia to degenerate from a once prosperous kingdom to a dark land populated by the ruins of once great castles. The only reminder of its past glory being its name, which was only used to define the space it took on a map.

After some days travel, the party started to head South East, towards the lake country. It was at this time that they remarked a body of horsemen fast approaching from the north. Weapons were readied in case the horsemen were hostile. As the Heavy Horse started to spread to best meet this possible threat, it became evident that they were few in number. Their tattered standard was that of the Knights of Draldeath.

Yet as Tiberius waited to meet them, a dust storm grew between the two groups. What was at first a small whirlwind grew unnaturally fast into a seething tornado. It bore down upon the party while wisps of wind issued from its seething mass. The wisps whirled towards the party, taking on the vague shape of tortured faces. Some of those touched by them were shaken by a vast fear, unable to even flee the oncoming tornado of doom, it was as if their feet had taken route. Yet not all were taken by the dread fear. They were ready when the tornado dissipated, to reveal a huge four-armed demon.

Hellfire issued from its eyes, smoke from its nostrils as it leapt forth to attack. It clasped a sword of fire in each hand, its every step made the earth shake. Knowing that there was no option but to fight the beast, all present (bar the ones paralysed with fear) leapt to battle. It was enough to drive one berserk! The battle was long and deadly. Quazi was able to deliver some healthy blows by calling upon his swords powers, yet it was not him who delivered the final blow.

The demon fell to the ground and began to dissolve, a putrid odour issuing from its corrupt flesh. Some of Tiberius' orcs had perished in the battle, along with a few knights who had joined in. there was no roar of victory when the battle was over, merely exhausted silence as people wondered why a demon had materialised specifically to destroy them.


Carol - Can I ululate?
Tony - Huh? Urinate, what @#$?!
Carol - No no, Ululate.
Tony - Wazzat?
Carol - Like the Arab and black women do, lilililililili sound with the tongue.
Tony - No you are a civilised sorceress, you can't ululate.

Tony - Fand and Ethnea, will you please stop trying to pick, buy or otherwise procure @#&*ing narcotic mushrooms/toadstools or other fungi, cacti, lichen and moss every two minutes.

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