DF Novices B-Team, Session 1

    The current DM for my Thursday night group was away. So I offered to run something in the interlude. I didn't have much time to prep, but I did have an existing sandbox (nearly-new; only a few uncareful owners) from my Tuesday night group. So we dropped a couple of new DFRPG 62-point PCs into that. 

    This might be an occasional interlude rather than a regular diversion. Still, it is fun to have a sandbox standing by for any rainy day which needs an RP session. As per my usual practice for the Tuesday group, I award an Impulse Point for a session summary. Here is a rather detailed write-up from the player of Yorgen. 

Session Date:    Thursday 14 July 2023

Party roster:

Yorgen Gant, human knight, 64 points (PC)
Ulokk, half-ogre thief, 64 points (PC)
Rodor, human miner, unknown points (NPC)

Campaign Date:    27 June, Year 645.

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Diary of Yorgen Gant:

There are, in life, some subtle signs that things are not going as well as they could. A favoured horse might throw a shoe, a well forged blade might shatter during practice... and then there are the signs that forego the subtlety and simply smack you around the head. And when you have to sell your best and only blade in order to eat, you know things are not going well.

It was a gift of Ser Landonn, and I had to exchange it for far too little coin, meager lodgings, food for a few days, and a cheap blade that feels wrong to my hand. But I will find Ser Landonn. I must. A squire must be there for his knight, even if that knight is missing on a quest. I will find you, Ser Landonn, this I vow.

The trail had gone cold by the time I arrived at Abdurna, but there was only one way Ser Landonn could have gone. Out in the wilderness beyond the border, of course, that's where I'll find him. Somewhere. Somehow.

But realistically, there is only one way for a penniless squire to travel, and that's by taking whatever odd jobs might go the right direction. I was lucky a caravan was going west, and even luckier to catch the rumours about a Duke somewhere out there. It's a tenuous lead, but it's the best I have, so time to swallow my pride and head out, like a common mercenary. Like a cheap caravan guard. I don't blame them for looking down on me. Ser Landonn was never a wealthy knight, and whatever equipment I haven't sold yet to get this far looks worn and shabby. But under the layers of cloth, under the faded tabard, beats the heart of a knight. Someday. Somehow.

On the long journey west, the only other compatriot even remotely friendly towards me is Ulokk, the half ogre. There's a history there, I can tell, but us outcasts can't be picky when it comes to friends. And as Ser Landonn always said, there's usually more warmth in the servant's quarters than the hearth of the great hall.

Says. What Ser Landonn says. I must not slip into the past tense. Until I know for certain, he is alive. I must believe that.

One thing that strikes me about the town of Bridgegate is that the people here must have no imagination. The town has a stone bridge, old and decrepit with lack of repair but clearly once grand... and a gate. Of sorts. Certainly a gatehouse. It must have been a substantial settlement once, judging by the stone buildings surrounded by the newer wooden structures. Old and prosperous. But evil is marching quickly, and its tendrils must have come here already. This was once a thriving part of the Empire. No longer. Now it's just a town beyond the borders, in the middle of nowhere, with a Duke in charge.

But I cannot simply go and see him. Not like this. If I'm lucky, he'll simply laugh me out of his keep. And my luck has not been that good lately. No, I must build up a name, a reputation, make myself worthy of notice before I can even approach him about Ser Landonn.

But a journey of a thousand steps begins with a pair of good boots. Another one of Ser Landonn's famous phrases... 

To my half surprise, Ulokk is deciding to stay in town as well rather than move along with the caravan. Maybe he is looking for his own salvation? Hard to tell, the man gives nothing away. But the pair of us are clearly a formidable enough sight that we attract notice, the kind of notice that leads to productive work for the good of the town, and the good of the realm.

Rodor and his friends, miners by trade, are concerned about a nearby silver mine. Goblins have been seen inside, and they dare not enter it. Another group has gone before us, but Rodor wants assurances that the mine is safe to enter. Without the mine they cannot work. Without work, they cannot live.

Of course we will help.

The compensation will not be generous, a silver coin apiece to scout the mine, but we may take whatever we can from the Goblins as long as we undertake not to take any of the silver ore from the mine. An easy bargain, one which I'm happy to accept.

Being no miner myself, I'm glad that Rodor decided to come in with us. I'm sure my stalwart friend will forgive me for saying so, but I'm equally certain that Ulokk is as lost underground as I am.

At first all appears empty. An empty tunnel leading from the entrance through many twists and turns to a rockfall blocking off the mine from further casual exploration. Luckily we have Rodor's torch, or we would be blind down here. Rodor is of the opinion that the rockfall is old, and hasn't been disturbed in a long time. But if another group of mercenaries found Goblins down here, then either they have been remarkably fastidious about cleaning up the corpses, were lying to their employers (and there are so many dishonourable people at large these days), or had found another way into the mine.

Ulokk, eyes accustomed to seeing what others do not, finds a keyhole in a seemingly blank wall. While that would present many with an obstacle, it does not deter my mighty friend. How he persuades the lock to open I do not know, but persuade it he does, and we gain entry to a large chamber beyond.

Casual exploration leads us to find the edges of the room, and Rodor opines that this may have once been an area of excavation. I do not know, it all looks like rock to me. All except the door set into the far wall. But remembering the hidden door through which we arrived, I feel it prudent to search the other wall for similar surprises too.

Always secure your rear. Thank you, Ser Landonn, for that lesson.

It is a measure of my luck that as we are searching for hidden entrance points in what I believed would be our rear flank, the door now behind us opens. We can hear it, but we cannot see it. I tell Rodor to withdraw to the wall, so our rear cannot be threatened, and we may form a defensive ring of steel, oak, and muscle around the miner. Then we see them, at the edge of the torchlight.

Goblins.

The four creatures lead us on a merry dance, but not before it is revealed that stalwart Ulokk can speak their chittering tongue. Or understand it, at least, I did not hear him speak it but he translated readily enough. The Goblins did not want us there. We did not want the Goblins there. Violence became inevitable.

It could not be more than twenty seconds later when three of them had fallen and the fourth, grievously injured, fled.. Rodor has taken a thrown axe to the chest, friend Ulokk has endured a swing from a Goblin, and I myself was incautious enough to get in the way of a swung axe, but we are all alive.

I decide that saving Rodor's life is more important than anything else right at that moment, and we assist our employer out of the cavern and back into the light, into the care of his friends.

But both Ulokk and myself are not happy to leave a job half finished. So, true to our word, we plunge back into the stygian darkness, relieved only by the flicker of our torch, to finish what we have started.

The fourth Goblin died by the door to their lair. It is an oddly sad sight, but friend Ulokk makes certain of the Goblin on the way past. I can hear him do it. I do not protest. They would have killed us given the chance, nearly killed Rodor who was unarmed, and I have hardened my heart against such necessities.

Through the door we plunge, finding oddly enough a sack of rocks just through that door. After Rodor's enthusiastic ramblings about the silver ore supposedly in the mine, both Ulokk and I are of the opinion that this much be a bag full of silver ore. We have, of course, undertaken to take no ore out of the mine, but after Rodor's grievous injury we are certain he would be cheered up tremendously should we be able to rescue this ore and present it to him and his friends.

This Ulokk and I endeavour to do, should we be able to, on our way back out of this lair.

For a lair it turns out to be, and the first door Ulokk persuades to open leads to a kitchen area of sorts. Tables stretch away into the darkness, and a rapid assessment of similar seating arrangements at banquets leads me to believe that up to thirty Goblins could have used this place at one time. They certainly aren't using it now, for the tableware is in disarray and the air smells rank, the reek of rotting food. I doubt Goblins are fastidious about their eating habits, but this has all the hallmarks of a large lair once disturbed. The lack of food poses a mystery until we spot a mysteriously shiny plate (which I believed might have been silver but which Ulokk, with infinite patience, identifies easily as pewter), and then see a slithering gelatinous thing in the dark distance, slowly shambling towards us.

In no mood to tangle with such a creature, we leave whence we came and close the door. We would have locked it too, had the creature not been trying to ooze through it, at which point the unexplored hallway seemed like a friendlier refuge.

I believed my luck might have been turning when we spotted another door in that hallway, and we crowded inside to get away from the slimy creature that might have followed us. Alas, the room was nothing more than an empty barracks with six sleeping space, a table with six chairs, and a midden inhabited only by a large centipede. Simple deduction thus leads us to believe there were six Goblins present, four of which we had accounted for in the cavern with sword and knife. Of the remaining pair, not a trace.

The hallway eventually ended in a dead end and what appears to be a collapsed ceiling. No matter. Trusting our luck, we reversed our course and returned whence we came, elated that the gelatinous thing had yet to escape the kitchen, and then made scarce with the sack of silver ore.

To our great misfortune and to my hidden disgust, the town guard refused entry to Ulokk purely on account of his race. I lack the standing or influence to deal with such a situation, and thus undertook to complete our quest alone and bring Ulokk his fair share of the compensation forthwith. After paying the guard his two coppers of entry tax, I set off in search of the temple where I was hoping to find a restored Rodor.

And indeed, this time luck did smile upon me, as the man and his friends were just leaving the temple of Mezzan. Rodor, fully restored, wanted to hear what we had found, and both he and his friends were curiously shocked by the sight of the sack of rocks, confirming it to be silver ore.

They vowed to bring me our pay, with a bonus, if I did but wait half an hour. And this I did, and the man returned with one of his friends, good as his word.

For our troubles, and for the gift of the sack of silver ore, we were given the lofty sum of three silver staters each. It's not much in the eyes of the high and mighty, but for a penniless squire and a half ogre, it represents more material wealth than we have seen in some time, and the promise of a full belly.

I then returned to Ulokk, waiting forlorn outside of the city gates, and he bade me farewell until morning when he hoped a change of guards might allow him to enter the city.

But a squire, even a penniless one whose Knight has gone missing, does not abandon his comrades in arms. I will remain with him outside of town until we may try to enter again in the morning.

It will be uncomfortable, but I am no stranger do discomfort, and indeed neither is Ulokk. We will endure this.

We will prevail. 

Somehow.