The Halls Of Tizun Thane

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

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A missing scout.

    Introduction for Reed:
It was all going so well. You’d scouted ahead of the party once they realised they were approaching the village of Cahli, had a nose around and found nothing untoward. And then, just as you were prepared to leave the village to report back to your companions, you heard a scream. From your vantage point behind a cart you could see several goblins and what looked like a huge knight striding into the centre of the village. One of the goblins held a small girl by the hair, pulling her along behind him. Villagers appeared from their homes, obviously afraid but unwilling to endanger the girl by attacking the raiding party.

The goblin began to issue demands to the villagers, claiming that since the village was no longer under the protection of Tizun Thane, it would from this day forth pay homage to the goblin’s master, an entity they referred to as Curwen. The villagers looked unhappy, but the goblins went among them threatening violence if tribute were not forthcoming.

It was at this point you became aware of a figure standing behind you. You whirled, but were not fast enough to stop the blow from falling. When you recovered your senses you saw that you’d been put onto a cart and were being held upright while something was put around your neck. A moment later, and you realised that the something was actually a noose, attached to a tall hastily-placed post in the centre of the vilage. The tall and silent knight held the tongue of the cart and made ready to pull sharply, leaving you to dangle from the end of the rope. Your hands are tied behind your back.

“Perhaps executing this one will convince you of the seriousness of our intentions!” The leader of the goblins, a robed figure with an unpleasant grin, shouts to the surrounding villagers.

Ah well, you think. It could be worse.

From the horizon you hear a crash of thunder, and then you feel the first drops of rain fall on your upturned face.

Perfect.

The goblin leader raises his arms and prepares to shout a command to the hulking figure at the head of the cart.

Hang on. The robed goblin is hesitating. He’s seen something at the edge of the village. Is that….?

    Introduction for everyone else:
After following vague rumours of the apparent disappearance or incapacity of the famed sorcerer Tizun Thane you approached the region in which it was said he made his home. Knowing from rough signposts that a village lay ahead you sent Reed out to spy out the lay of the land without arousing the suspicion a party of armed wanderers might attract. That was three hours ago, and Reed was late.

Where was he? You’d patiently waited … and waited … and waited. Eventually, a collective decision was made to follow his trail to the village and see which bar he’d found and which ale he’d managed to ‘sample’ this time. As you trudged through the forest you entertained each other with competing bids for who would be first to clip him round the ear for his inevitable slide into inebriation. The village loomed ahead of you in the darkening light, and you began to hear a loud, screeching voice proclaim something about ‘an execution’. Exchanging worried looks you picked up your pace, reaching the edge of a crude village square in time to see a strange tableau. Your companion stands on tiptoes atop a cart harnessed to what looked to be a tall knight, with a noose around his neck and a large group of gobilns surrounding him. Villagers are dotted here and there amongst the goblins All faces turn towards you.
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The Village of Cahli

Though it was touch-and-go for a while, especially when the Knight proved to be a hardy Warforged warrior with an unerring ability to slice open a warlock’s armour to the flesh beneath. The leader of the goblins proved to be a potent spellcaster, covering the battlefield with a haze of mist while his allies fought on with tenacity, but eventually the party were victorious. One of the goblins was taken alive for questioning, and villagers began to poke their heads around doors and over fences.

Two bold villagers approached, professing effusive thanks for the party’s intervention whilst eyeing the darkening skies nervously.

“We should get inside, noble sirs. There’ll be time enough for explanations once we’re safe and sound by the fire in the Ferryboat Tavern” This last comment was accompanied by a finger that pointed to a large building with shuttered windows ahead. The party noticed that every house had thick shutters across their windows, and that the shutters looked new. “Bring that creature inside with you, if you must. We can tie up up in the cellar for now”.

As they walked through the town they saw that the main trade of this village wass obviously timber from the forest. A woodyard stood nearby, and there were wood carvings, pieces of bark, and other such products lie around most houses, which are curiously built of stone, obviously carried at great pains from the mountains visible to the south. The ferry across the river was closed for the day; both the boat and boatman were locked in the boathouse.

Your anxious escort led them to the largest building in the village. Its windows were shuttered like every other dwelling, but when he showed the party through the door they saw the glow of a roaring fire and a welcome bar. A broad and nervously grinning man stood behind it, quite possibly having just emerged from a hiding place somewhere on the other side of the open cellar door the party spotted before he deftly nudged it closed with his foot.

“I hear you fought off those bandits!” he said expansively. “Please, come in out of the cold and enjoy a beer on the house.” He began pouring dark ale into large mugs, having first made sure they were clean by the stringent method of spitting in them and wiping the inside with his apron.

Their escort introduced himself as Garamond, the local blacksmith. He was apologetic about his not helping you during the fight, but confessed that his first thought was for his family, and he ran to secure them inside the house. By the time he returned to the scene of battle with his largest hammer, which he was carrying when he greeted you in the square, it was all over. He seated them at a table while the landlord brought their drinks over, and asked what they were going to do with the snivelling goblin, now firmly trussed up and shivering by the door.

“It’s far too late for anything other than a night in my fine establishment,” claimed the landlord. “You shall stay here for free tonight, thanks from Yurith the Honest on behalf of his town.” He cast a dark look at a nearby table, where use of word ‘Honest’ to describe himself drew some disbelieving laughter, and returned muttering oaths to his bar. Aside from the party and Garamond, there were only a couple of dedicated old timers and a forlorn-looking merchant in the bar itself. Stairs to one side presumably led up to rooms, and in general the place seemed oddly subdued. In a village of this size they’d expect evening to draw the folk in by the dozen. Not here.

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