He came from the North. A wander. A freebooter. A barbarian with mighty thewed limbs and the pad of a panther on the prowl....
In a tavern he heard tales of an old castle, whose Laird was rumoured to be older still.
What treasures might such a place hold?
Bit of a change of pace here. Having worked out rules for rogues, thought I would have a go. Rogues have two disciplines, Stealth and Acrobatics. They work a bit like magic and in fact it is only by being attuned to to the Natural Miasma that pervades all things that the Rogue may perform these near supernatural feats.
He made it to the edge of the clearing by the castle gate without difficulty. There he saw, or perhaps sensed, the presence of the enemy. Years of sneaking about in the wilderness had taught him to use cover to his advantage. He peered from the bushes making sure that he could see while not being seen.
There was only one sentry, a bowman, at the gateway.
The bowman seemed to be patrolling the grounds, back and forth, back and forth.
To enter the castle he would need to call upon his stealth training. He focussed and felt the Miasma all surrounding him.
There was a fluctuation in its power!
It was too much for him.
He stumbled and panicked a covey of wild birds!
The sentry sounded the alarm...
Were this part of a campaign I might just pack it in at this point and try again another night. However in the interest of seeing how things fit together, I decided to press on.
Even as the guard was shouting for aid in the castle courtyard, the barbarian melted into the mists. He still might find treasure tonight if his luck held.
Even as he glided across the fields he could sense a presence, seeking, hating, hungry.
The Laird was risen.
Commotion in the courtyard signalled the assembly of a patrol.
They appeared in the gateway.
Heading for the point where he had startled the birds.
Meanwhile, cat like, the barbarian had crossed the open and scaled the wall.
But something was wrong. His concentration was broken and he knew that the enemy would see him if they but looked his way.
To turn back now would show weakness, and the barbarian knew that his god despised the weak.
Carefully he crept towards the doorway. There was light from within.
Three skeletons.
And a spearman.
They had yet to notice him.
Seizing the moment he burst into the room swinging his might sword!
Somehow the surprised enemy forced him back.
Skeletons may not be the best fighter but they sure are hard to rattle.
He swung mightily, parrying blow here, lashing out there.
If it wasn't for his Hero Dice, he'd have been brought down long ago.
And still the fight continued with neither party gaining an advantage.
The Laird appeared. Rather than risk his immortality in a base hand to hand struggle, he attacked the barbarian with magic.
With sheer force of will the barbarian shrugged off the magical assaults.
One of the sentries appeared...
...and tried to shoot the barbarian in the back.
Crom may favor the brave but he hates the stupid even more than the weak.
It was time to go.
Summoning his inner strength the barbarian ran off the table, stepped on the head of one his foes and used it to push off into the night!
As he leapt past the arriving sentry he chopped down with his sword, but to no effect.
On landing he did another flip and sailed over the wall into the welcoming darkness.
As he ran he could hear the curses of his enemies ringing in his ears.
At last all was silent.
He had survived.
Everything worked as it ought to.
Fluctuations in the strength of the Natural Miasma, coupled with the need to master it, made the use of special abilities unreliable and somewhat difficult. That's a good thing though as otherwise they could dominate play.
It was a bit frustrating being the thief, but he got in, had a shufti, got in a brawl, and got out when the odds were against him. All in all a good night!
This one was also unusual in that no one ended up any the worse for wear.
Still a lot of work to be done, but things are coming along nicely.
Thanks for stopping by!
