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Thanks for stopping by my game blog.  It is primarily dedicated to session logs of our small group of roleplayers in North Jersey.  Feel free to comment; all I ask is that you take a moment to register an account first to keep out the anonymous riff-raff.  I hope you enjoy it and find something worth reading.

Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC), Session 1 AAR

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Allayre is a tiny farming, herding and crafting village in the mountains.  They are simple folk who follow the Old Faith of the Earth Mother.  Vornheim is the closest city.  The island kingdom of Ey is actually a loose confederation of city-states who pay homage to a nominal King with little power outside the capital.

The Party

  • Slink is a local thief, pickpocket and troublemaker whom Grandfather took under his wing in a attempt to reform him.  Having failed, he now tries to control his tendencies while covering for him with local authorities.
  • Hibiscus Vanillafog is an elf from the nearby woods who used to enjoy long walks under the stars with Grandfather, gazing at the heavens and discussing the ways of the fey.
  • Friar Lodens is an herbalist who follows the Old Faith and works alongside the Druids of the Grove.
  • Guldoon is a former beggar hired on as a porter and torch-bearer.

It has been decreed by the King in faraway Konungsgard that Ey be brought firmly under his control.  His nobles have been sent to all corners of the island to build keeps from which they are to consolidate the King’s rule.  Many of the traditions of the Old Faith have been outlawed and rites forbidden.

The Story

Open in village of Allayre in the manor house of Grandfather the Seer, village elder.  Grandfather is venerable, in poor health, and increasingly suffering from nightmares.

Allayre is a cursed village.  Some 60 years earlier, hooded figures emerged and started raiding and pillaging farmsteads near the Great Gorge.  The raids were followed by demands for sacrifices to their strange god in exchange for peace.  At first the villagers laughed at this but the raids continued.  It was decided that one citizen, chosen by lot, would be sacrificed to these figures and their god.  Every decade since they have made the sacrifice and were at peace.  The next 10 year sacrifice is due in one month but the King has outlawed rites that are not of the All Father, the new god of the King.  All those born in Allayre are subject to the lottery and if they try to leave Allayre it is said the curse will follow them.

On one particular occasion, Grandfather is being attended by Slink, Hibiscus and Lodens.  He lapses into nightmares, causing him to thrash about in bed and scream “They are coming… they are coming…”.  Fires and candles go out and the room dims as five shadowy, indistinct robed figures appear.  They have no faces behind their grey hoods and their robes undulate as if their bodies were not human.  The figures mutter, “He is still protected, we cannot harm him.  Take these others as sacrifices to our Master.”  Producing black steel daggers with strange glowing runes, they attack.

The party defeats the figures with some difficulty, Lodens caving in one’s head with a nightstand, and the nightmare dissipates.  When Grandfather awakens he warns that no one near him is safe anymore.  Plus, the presence of royal troops in town building a new keep bodes ill.  None of the three were born in the village and are not subject to the curse, so Grandfather bids them leave and find their own fortunes.  The party refuses at first out of loyalty to those they leave behind.  Grandfather suggests that they can be of more service by finding wealth and magic that might help lift the curse for good.

He knows the local legend of a wizard who build a tower in the unpopulated hills nearby, which are rumored to be haunted.  No word has been had of the wizard for many decades, so perhaps his wealth and knowledge lies unguarded.  It is very dangerous and probably guarded by many clever traps but the reward may be worth the risk.  Also, the tower is said to be ringed by a great earthen berm overgrown with briars and hedges.  The party prepares and then sets out.

First, Hibiscus attempts to serve the King of Elfland as a patron.  She succeeds and is quested with retrieving an Unseelie Fey who had been captured and imprisoned in a magical glass globe, but whose captor had failed to deliver to the Elf King.  Hibiscus was told that the globe would make itself known to her.

The party made their way on foot and encountered the earthen berm.  A 5-foot tunnel had been dug out of the berm to allow access along a trail.  They made camp for the night.  In the night they rescued a tethered horse from coyotes.  Hibiscus spoke to it and learned that someone else had gone toward the tower (the horse was unable to indicate how).  Then they healed it, took some supplies from the saddlebags, and sent it back in the direction of Allayre.  Lightning lit up the clear sky above in the direction of the tower.

Entering the berm’s tunnel, Hibiscus saw a flash of green light from beneath the mossy bed.  The moss began to grow unnaturally to cover the entrance and exit of the tunnel.  Hibiscus was able to locate the source of the emanation and retrieved a small glass globe filled with a swirling green light.  Surmising that this was the Unseelie Fey she was bid to recover, she put it in the empty chest carried by Guldoon.  By this time the roots in the tunnel had come alive and were trying to entangle the party.  Slink and Lodens were able to bull their way through to the other side, while Hibiscus chopped her way back to Guldoon.  The roots were now attacked from both ends and defeated.

As they approached the tower they noticed a body lying on the ground, perhaps the person who left the horse.  It was a man who had fallen from high up the tower, lying dead next to a mangled grappling hook on a rope.  Slink checked the stairs up to the main double doors while dodging lightning strikes.  Lodens came up and knocked on the large iron ring knockers.  A loud gong sounded and the doors opened effortlessly.

At this point we will wait to enter the tower proper.

The Downfall of Dunross

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19 March 2012

Present: Ferrisa, Frelest, Goran, Wulfric, Zanatos

Two pyres were built: a crude pile of sticks for the bandits and a proper funerary pyre to honorably send the family of Hralf Haraldsunu to the afterlife. Gates were repaired, outbuildings secured and provisions gathered from the stores of Hralf.

While two of the party remained at their newly-won stead, the others continued north toward Aslov. A lone rider on horseback approached from the way they had come, a large man with long auburn hair and long beard gathered in braids. He wore a bright chain shirt, bore a gold/black round shield on one arm and gripped a long single-bladed battleaxe in the other. After a wary moment, the party exchanged greetings with Aethelred the Tall, whose keep stood nearby to the stead of Hralf. A small village lay several miles farther west and the folk there considered Aethelred their Hearthmaster, for he was mighty in battle and fair-minded. He sought an accounting of the events at Aethelred’s stead and the party’s story, corroborated by so many witnesses, among them Iron Guild warriors, was deemed truthful and sufficient. Aethelred offered to speak with them further when they returned to the stead to take up residence, then galloped back south.

After another day’s travel, the party entered the fertile farms and fields that surrounded Aslov. The Icebarrier mountains towered in the distance and the black smoke of many fires issued from the walled city of Aslov. The farm folk of the outlying steads gazed northward in wonder and worry. Two days ago the fires had started, they said. Refugees from the north, fleeing famine and war, clustered around the three great gates of the city. Others, unwilling to wait patiently to die of starvation, headed south.

It was decided to send Zanatos ahead to make contact with the recipients of the grain and iron, and to arrange for protection of the caravan from the throngs outside the gate. Moving quickly and with purpose, Zanatos completed his mission unhindered, except by desperate folk begging for food or coin. Twenty guards of the town constabulary would emerge to form a shield wall around the wagons and escort them to the High Quarter. The Iron Guild, whose mission it is to protect caravans and trade routes, would provide no assistance without payment.

The party approached the Great South Gate and dozens of refugees pressed forward seeking food. The constables emerged with clubs and shields to keep the throng at bay, but several among the crowd were armed and attempting to incite violence. A single sword thrust toward an Iron Guild guard but he cracked his spear haft on the hand that wielded it, after which a mighty warcry from Wulfric cowed the remaining instigators. The party passed within the South Gate without further incident.

Aslov looked like a city under siege. Smoke rose from many parts of the city, especially near the city’s mill. There had been a food riot two days earlier and the streets were filled with the starving and dead. Aslov guardsmen and private mercenaries hired by the city’s many merchants were posted at every important intersection and building, giving the impression of martial law. The mill was surrounded by burning wreckage and cordoned by guards who allowed no one to enter or leave the block. Grain and flour was now raised and lowered to the site from the High Quarter wall on makeshift lifts.

Shipments were finally delivered: grain to the granaries, supervised by a young lad named Wilkin who had responsibility beyond his tender years, and steel to a representative of the High Constable. The party’s diligence and sense of duty were recognized with a referral to Rodgar ap-Annwn, a merchant in need of security for his own shipments. He would meet them that evening at the Last Chance Tavern by the South Gate.

In the interim, Goran volunteered his services to the Sisters of Mercy at White House, the nearest thing Aslov had to a hospital. Zanatos and Frelest sought knowledge at the library of the Temple of Var.

The party arrived at the Last Chance and made the acquaintance of the proprietor, a retired Hearth Knight named Jorg Nader, who told tales of battles beyond the Icebarrier. Rodgar arrived late and joined the group for a round of drinks. The city was still well-stocked with drink but food was scarce. His proposal: take a wagon to the mill town of Dunross, pick up a shipment of flour and bring it to the baker at Dalsetter. The flour would be worth its weight in gold scields and must be protected from harm and theft. He provided the group with a map of the area around Aslov. They set out with the empty wagon the next day at first light, heading southwest to Dunross.

A small raiding band of orcs of the Eye Piercer tribe, know for their archery and black garb, botched an ambush and the party defeated them with steel and coldfire. One of the two Iron Guild guards was brought back from the brink of death as Goran healed a grievous arrow wound. Several miles on, the party discovered a dead horse and rider, possibly killed by the same Eye Piercers. The rider carried a note from Dunross to Aslov about a plague of rats that threatened their grain supplies and very survival.

As the sun set they discovered a travel tower of the Road Wardens, built at intervals along trade routes to provide shelter to travelers. The tower was deserted but an empty wagon and two dead draft horses were found outside. Each horse bore the bite marks of some animal and the wagon cover bore the emblem of Dunross, crossed barley sheaves over the letter D. Inside were the skeletons of two people, flesh gone and gnawed to the bone. Rats were suspected, in great numbers and of unusual ferocity. The party moved everyone, including the horses, inside the tower and barred the door for the night.

The Stead of the Dead

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5 March 2012

Present: Ferrisa, Frelest, Goran, Wulfric, Zanatos, Aethelred, (Michele)

The party is escorting a small shipment of steel ingots and grain through the eastern Freelands, north to the city of Aslov which nestles against the Icebarrier Mountains. Their route leads them up the River Crystalflow, making landfall at Bridgewater, continuing along the western borders of Nordmark, and crossing into the Freelands at the town of Nara. It is the month of Snaermonan (Snowmoon) and high winter is approaching the Hearthlands, the frigid wind already howling down from the mountains. The two carts, drawn by four shaggy draft ponies, are under Iron Guild protection, for this winter will be a hungry one and the Freelands are under threat from rough and desperate folk.

The ambush was hastily laid and reckless, and the party was ready. Bowmen rose on either side of the snow-covered track and loosed arrows. Moments later, the assailants to the left were ablaze with Coldfire and those to the right cut down by spear and axe. The bodies were poorly clothed in mixed Saxa/Anari fashion and emaciated by hunger, perhaps refugees from Heligioland to the north. Heligioland, where the winters are longer and harsher and the harvest less bountiful, home now mostly to orcs, wolves and worse.

Continuing north, they came upon a strange sight by the side of the road. A lone man sat on the ground, head buried in his hands weeping. He was a Saxa by his dress and long hunting spear. The party approached to investigate and have words with the fellow.

Hralf Haraldsunu was his name, a farmer whose stead lay to the west. A armed band of strangers had appeared at his longhouse and requested hospitality. Hralf offered it but these strangers were dishonorable men. They helped themselves to his food and drink and roughly treated Hralf and his wife and two children. When Hralf raised his voice in protest, the men slew his wife and children without thought or hesitation. Hralf claimed that he was severely wounded by a knife in the side but managed to escape. Now he wept for his shame and begged the party to take vengeance on his behalf. If they swore on the gods to do so, he would bequeath them his house and lands, for he no longer had the heart to set eyes upon the place again.

Wulfric Dagsunu swore the oath and the party set out to deal with the situation. Zanatos searched the ground thereabouts for tracks but strangely found none. No footprints or blood trails led to or from the spot where Hralf sat, nor was there sign of the passage of a large number of men. Hralf was wounded, as he had claimed, and bore the symbol of Thunor, God of Storms, about his neck. Goran the Frost Dwarf tended to his wounds.

Zanatos scouted to the west and found Hralf’s stead after a mile or two. The single thatched farmhouse was surrounded by a four foot high wall of stone, behind which could be seen three or four men with spears. Smoke issued from the central chimney and the smoke of campfires wafted from within the wall. The party moved the wagons to a clearing a mile away from the stead, under guard from four Iron Guild spearmen, and decided on a course of action.

[Can’t recall exactly who did what or the sequence of events; players, feel free to jump in and correct my account]

Aethelred the Loud openly approached the gap in the wall where a fence once stood while the others quietly arranged themselves behind cover of the wall. Markus proclaimed his presence to the two bandit guards and requested hospitality. The bandits, confused but not fearing this lone stranger, went to deal with Markus as several other guards approached.

[GM memory failure]

Long story short, the guards were disposed of as the other bandits, numbering a good dozen, shut themselves inside the house. The party’s warriors bashed the door open and the rout was on. Ranged fire covered the rear door through which the bandits imagined they could escape. None did. Ferissa’s Coldfire once again blasted many foes.

A strange mist had suddenly crept up toward the party during the battle and just as suddenly disappeared as the last bandit was slain.

Searching the stead, the party found the bodies of four Saxa: a woman, two children and a man who in every respect resembled Hralf Haraldsunu, including the silver token of Thunor. The learned among them surmised that they had encountered a genganger, the restless spirit of one who leaves some task unfinished in life and cannot proceed to the afterlife to be judged by the gods. Under auld Saxa law, the oath of a genganger carries the same legal weight as the oaths of the living, and thus the party found itself in possession of their own steading… assuming the claim can withstand challenge.

pcfarm HralfStead


Hellfrost – Heroes

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Our heroic band of heroically heroic heroes. Heroically speaking.

  • Aethelred Sigmundsunu (Markus)- Saxa Iron Guild warrior
  • Ferissa (Ozge)- Frostborn Hrimwisard
  • Frelest the Cursed (Eric)- Lorekeeper of the Reliquary
  • Goran (Rich)- Frost Dwarf Runemage
  • The Unnamed (Michele)- Noble Frostborn Iron Guild warrior
  • Wulfric Dagsunu (Brennan)- Saxa warrior
  • Zanatos (Mike)- Saxa hunter, tracker, ranger


JimCon 2012

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JimCon 2012

is being held July 20-22, 2012, in honor of our dear, old friend

James J. Allaire (March 5, 1959-February 9, 2011)

at the Comfort Suites, Mahwah, NJ

Dungeon Crawl Classics Intro

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Yesterday I ran the Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC) RPG, by Goodman Games, for the family.  DCC is a new system with streamlined d20 mechanics that is a stylistic throwback to 1970’s-era D&D, right down to the rulebook artwork.  I will describe features of the system as I retell our game sessions.   

DCC strongly encourages groups to begin a campaign with a technique they call “the funnel.”  Each player randomly generates 2-4 level 0 characters–a motley assortment of clowns, ne’er-do-wells, wannabes and zeroes–who are then thrown into a beginning adventure.  A high body count is expected and characters who survive the funnel (if any) attain 1st level and can then choose a class.  Humans can select from Warrior, Thief, Wizard and Cleric, while demi-humans are forevermore Dwarf, Elf or Halfling (i.e., race as class).

Links to reviews of the system can be found at the Goodman Games website.  Next, our zeroes start out on their lives (often brief) of adventure.