Oni

Oni

Oni
NO. ENCOUNTERED: 1-6
SIZE: Medium (5-8')
HIT DICE: 10d8
MOVE: 40 
ARMOR CLASS: 16 
NO. of ATTACKS:  2
DAMAGE:  1d10 (fists); 1d12 (Iron Club), 1d8 (bite)
SPECIAL: Spells (cone of cold, burning hands, polymorph, stone spikes, gaseous form, sleet storm, speak with animals and various others)
SAVES:  Physical

INTELLIGENCE: Average
ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil
TYPE:  Humanoid
ORGANIZATION: Tribal
ACTIVITY CYCLE: Day
EXPERIENCE: 2,500 

Though I have never met one in person (yet), I have heard many tales of the Oni, an Ogre-like creature from lands to the East. Kolobok himself spent many days in those lands, and the cudgel he carries is in fact the leg bone of one of these vicious creatures. According to him, an Oni is a fearsome foe, being well versed in the ways of barbaric combat. However, being more intelligent than the simple Ogres we know in Grayrealm, Oni make use of magicks as well. The novice adventurer beware! No two Oni looks exactly alike, but typically an Oni has horns (usually one or two, but some can have up to five or six), wield spiked iron clubs, and wear tiger skin loincloths. Also, Oni can have a variety of skin colors, though most are red or blue, with black, green, and purple Oni being more rare. I have been told by some that Oni have a curious fear, or at least dislike, of monkeys, and thus farmers who live on the border of the forest in lands to the East will erect monkey shrines and statues for good luck and warding the fierce things away. Some also carry small, monkey charms or medallions when encroaching on Oni territory for safety.

 Combat:
Oni combat strategies vary depending on such factors as the age, station, and number of Oni encountered. For instance, a young Oni fighting on its own will often charge into combat headfirst, attack with its fists and club first while saving spells such as cone of cold or burning hands for later. However, an older and wiser Oni may have access to the spell polymorph, which it may use to disguise itself as an old, human beggar, leading the party deeper into Oni territory with promise of riches. Oni that fight as a group however will usually lay traps, sometimes using stone spikes to surprise the party and ambush them from the thick forest. Oni in groups are usually lead by a leader or chieftain, with leaders receiving an additional dice of hit points and a +2 to their to hit score and damage, whereas a chieftain receives 3 additional dices of hit points and receives +4 to their to hit score and damage. Furthermore, leaders will usually attack predominantly with spells while the lesser warriors attack physically, and chieftains will make use of such spells as sleet storm and gaseous form to disorient the enemy.

Habit/Society:

Oni typically run in packs, having small tribal communities lead by respected older Oni warriors and sages. Oni are much more intelligent than their ogre cousins, and as such are somewhat more civilized, having a crude sense of honor and hierarchy in their communities. However, Oni are still fiercely territorial, and will react harshly to humans and other creatures that wander into their lands. However, there are some Oni who have a more benevolent relationship with mortals, granting them advice and passge through the wilderness (though usually for a fee), but such encounters are few and far between. The origin of the Oni is disputed, as some believe them to simply be Ogres who migrated East, while others believe them to be angry forest spirits that took a humanoid form to mock the mortals that were invading and destroying the forests of the East to build towns and cities. To further complicate matters, there some stories connecting them to the Demon Gate, a mysterious region to the North of Oni lands, which in turn has ties to local creation and underworld myths. Perhaps the Oni are simply immigrants from a dark and uncompromising realm, and their rough exterior and additude is simply their way of coping with our strange world. Whatever their origin, the Oni are complex and imposing creatures that should not be underestimated or trifled with without need.

[These stats have been adapted from the updated 1993 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Monstrous Manual

and from the 2011 Castles & Crusades Monsters & Treasure manual for use in our campaign using the Castles & Crusades SIEGE engine.]Polymorph

A Lesson in Fairy Politics and Crashing Weddings

Journal, Eighteenth Entry

A Dark Union

Having just received word of Oberon's passing, our group was struggling to decide how to
proceed. Without Oberon's blessing we would find it difficult to exit the Forest of Avalon. However, it was Piknik's friend Axe-Face who offered us some guidance. For you see, it would seem that Axe-Face had secured for himself a position on the Council of Seasons, the very same Council Oberon had once belonged to, presiding over the season of Summer. Axe-Face was merely a page on the Council, acting as an assistant to Aester's White Stage, the keeper of Spring. Axe-Face asked us to accompany him to the Council's round table wherein they would shed more light on the situation. Using a strange spell, Axe-Face transported us to join the Council, wherein we heard their concerning tale: For it would seem that Titania and Puck, Oberon's Wife and fellow seat holder and his trusted page, had conspired against him. Titania had left him after his most recent affair, joining the Wild Huntsman (as we already knew) but Puck too had been bought, and had poisoned his king at the Huntsman's request. What's more though, Titania and the Huntsman were to be wed this very day, and thus the Huntsman would gain Oberon's seat on Avalon's throne as well as his seat on the Council, and all the powers and privileges therein. Obviously, the Council was uncomfortable with this, for the Wild Huntsman was a tyrant, and Puck and Titania had proven they could no longer be trusted either. However, because Summer was in full bloom, Titania was at the height of her power, and the rest of the Council was not, and therefore it would not be safe for them to act directly against her. Thus did they request for our group to alleviate the situation. We were charged with either convincing Titania and Puck to repent or to remove them by force, and do anything to ensure the Wild Huntsman's marriage be cancelled. Though they could not aid us directly, each Council member did grant us a unique boon to help infiltrate the ceremony: Sinter Klauss, keeper of Winter, gave us a potion of shrinking; Death, lord of Fall, lent us his Cloak of Invisibillity; and the Stag granted us a unique berry that could polymorph an individual, though we didn't know for how long.

Using these items to disguise ourselves, we were able to enter Oberon's stronghold, where a great festival was being held in honor of the impending royal wedding. We slipped amongst the crowd unnoticed at first, as Piknik used the Cloak to hide in plain sight, and Kolobok used the berry to transform into a unicorn, centaur... Thing. However, we quickly separated and became distracted by all the festivities offered. For example, Piknik managed to win a lapis lazuli skillet in a cooking contest (though he lost the Cloak in the process). Luckily, the other guests were too focused on the wedding to notice us, and we were able to further infiltrate the facility with ease. However, upon entering the first Hall of the castle, we fell upon Puck. As the Council requested, we tried to talk reason into Puck, but with no luck, and a fierce battle ensued. Puck proved a crafty and quick witted foe, using illusions to confuse us, but ultimately were proved the victors. However, this put us in an awkward position, for the Huntsman's guards soon came calling upon the traitorous page to prepare a speech for the wedding. While trying to avoid them, we found a potion of polymorph amongst Puck's belongings, as well as a mysterious page from the Huntsman's journal. In it, the Huntsman described his hazy memories, and the familiarity of Oberon's halls. Furthermore, it seems that he had become blood brothers with Puck, an act he did not quite understand himself, though he believed it felt right. Not sure what to make of this, we quickly made a plan, I myself would use the potion to take on Puck's visage, and I would give a speech discouraging the Huntsman to go through with the wedding. But Alas! I was tongue tied! For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything to say. Luckilly, Thumbelina came up with a satisfactory speech before hand, but our attempts at dissuading the Huntsman proved disastrous, and he sentenced Puck (aka me!) to a most dreadful fate: I would be bound in a deep dungeon, with a serpent and someone I cared for as my only companions. The serpent would be bound by magicks to drip poison in my eyes. However, my other companion would hold out a bowl to collect the poison, and I would learn to curse them when they inevitably turn to pour the poison out. (I know it sounds strange, but I can't help but think I've heard something like that before. Not in Gray Realm, but someone did this in another story, in another land. If only I could remember more...). Thankfully, my friends were able to save me, and I returned to my normal appearance. However, the Huntsman had divided us by this point. Half of us were trying to explain ourselves to him, the other half was busy saving me, and Piknik was off doing... I have no idea. When the group with me burst in on negotiations, the Huntsman was annoyed, but when Piknik crashed through the wall with a burst of flame, the Huntsman was furious. He proved a fierece warrior, skilled with the spear and with magicks, but we eventually were able to overcome him, though he escaped with the help of a magic mirror. Who was this strange man? And who does he remind me of...?

In any case, Titania was the only surviving member of this villainous trinity, and she refused to repent of her actions. However, she was also in no place to fight us, for Tom Thumb, worrying about Thumbelina, had led the Flower Drakes to our aid, scattering the remaining forces of the Huntsman and setting Oberon's kingdom back in order. Thus did we take Titania prisoner, placing her in the now empty Well at the Base of Irminsul, with guards provided by the Council of Seasons. However, there was but one more problem to solve: the Council had an empty seat. And so, because of her royal lineage and her actions that revived the Fire Lilly Tribe and the Flower Drakes, our own Thumbelina was elected the new keeper of Summer, and took Piknik as her Page. This greatly pleased Johan, who had been hoping only to secure Oberon's aid in our rebellion, and thus was pleasantly surprised to gain allainces with the Flower Drakes, the Fire Lillies, and the Council instead. And so, confident in our new allies, we made our way back to Stolzreich to make contact with our other allies, and make preparations for our battle with the Pale Queen...

Leshii

The Leshii

Leshii
NO. ENCOUNTERED: 1
SIZE: Giant (26')
HIT DICE: 22d8+2-7
MOVE: 20 
ARMOR CLASS: 12 
NO. of ATTACKS:  2
DAMAGE:  1d10 (fists); 2d10 (stomp)
SPECIAL: Polymorph, Ticklers
SAVES:  Physical

INTELLIGENCE: High
ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral
TYPE:  Humanoid
ORGANIZATION: Solitary
ACTIVITY CYCLE: Day
EXPERIENCE: 18,000 

*Hold fast to thine heinies, ye frail fancy folk! For this yarn were spun by none other than Piknik the Bold, High Wizard of the Order of Unlikely, Slayer of the Solar Snail of the thrice-annexed ghost marshes, and keeper of the secretest of secrets, a secret so secret not even a fellow as wise and wonderful as Piknik the Bold can know it! (That guy can't keep anything to himself)*

Once long ago while I was out and about, conversing with my dear friend Axe-Face (or was it my turtle, who was also named Axe-Face? Long story, don't worry about it), we came upon a disheveled fellow along a heavily wooded road, who was begging for food or change amongst the brush. Now I, being a wise and experienced wizard whose inexhaustible greatness is only matched by my unclenched humbillity, knew first to check the shoes of such tramps who spring forth from the bushes, as was known to often happen in those days (good times, good times...). Upon giving them a glance I noticed he wore his left boot on his right stomper, and visa versa. With a laugh I hopped out of my moccasins (self knit, not bragging, maybe a little) and put them on the opposite foot myself, before quickly stripping down and redressing with all my wizardly robes on backwards and inside out, and with a simple "Not today Leshii," I was on my way down the road, and thinking myself a pretty wise Piknik. And rightly so! But then Axe-Face, he just... Don't get me wrong, he's a fine fellow, but none to bright or experienced in such matters. For he simply dug some coins from his pockets and plopped them right in the beggars hand, and said "Bless you and keep you friend," or something stupid like that. It was no surprise to me, looking back in annoyance, when the beggar took hold of Axe-Face's arm and began to twist and grow, eschewing his beggar's robes for his true hairy visage, revealing his true form to Axe-Face as that of a grinning Leshii. Cursing, I turned back and ran to Axe-Face's aid, wincing as I heard his pained giggles and guffaws as the Leshii tore into his love-handles with his cruel, probing Ticklers. I prepared the most powerful spells at my disposal as I raced towards the two of them, for though Leshiis are generally agreeable if annoying creatures, it can be a right pain in the radishes to make them let go of their prey once they've started their tickling...

 Combat:

Leshiis are typically nothing more than whimsical pranksters, though of course there are bound to be a few rotten mangos in the mango container. For the most part, Leshiis use Polymorph to take on various forms to ambush woodland travelers with, though their most common disguise is that of a beggar, the tell tale sign of this disguise being shoes on the wrong feet. Failure to recognize this disguise can lead to fatal results, for you'll soon find yourself desperately trying to pass a DEX save to avoid the Leshii's Ticklers. Once caught, even the most stoic and stuffy adventurer will find themselves laughing uncontrollably, for the Leshii knows all the most tender and ticklish places on the mortal body, but alas, they know little in the ways of restraint (not like me, who always wisely discerns the minimal force needed for any encounter). Even the toughest adventurer will find it hard to find space to breathe between chuckles as the tickling increases in intensity, and in merely 4 rounds the poor soul will fall unconscious, and in another three they will suffocate and die. Forever!!! Should you ever find yourself in the tickling clutches of a Leshii, and feel somewhat embarrassed, don't worry too much: you should. And you know what, honestly, don't even bother the rest of your party begging for help. A Leshii can develop a bit of a temper if people try to pilfer their prey, both stomping and using their fists to fight off opponents, and your friends don't deserve that. After all, it's your own fault for winding up in this ridiculous predicament. You bought this hammock, you gotta sleep in it. I mean sure, you could probably escape the Leshii's grasp with a successful STR save at level 3 challenge, but wouldn't you rather go out with some dignity, instead of writhing around and whatnot? For example, you could take this opportunity to clear the air between you and your friends before passing on to the other side. Like you Pungo! When are you going to tell Grumpuddle how you really feel about him?! (That's a thing right? Have I been reading that situation correctly?) 

Habit/Society:

While the Leshii loves to dish it out, they can't really take it in, and thus they tend to live far from other Leshiis. For the most part they live in caves and eat various plants and fruits that grow in the wild. It is not uncommon for Leshiis to decorate their thick, shaggy fur with various flowers and fruits as they get older, as a sign of status. Leshiis that wear a crown of pinecones and mistletoe are considered to be especially important and wise. Why, you ask? Who knows. Leshiis are weird.

[These stats have been adapted from the updated 1993 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Monstrous Manual

and from the 2011 Castles & Crusades Monsters & Treasure manual for use in our campaign using the Castles & Crusades SIEGE engine.]Polymorph

The Spork of Oberon

The Spork of Oberon

The Spoooooorrrrrrrrk

*Hold fast to thine heinies, ye frail fancy folk! For this yarn were spun by none other than Piknik the Bold, High Wizard of the Order of Unlikely, Slayer of the Solar Snail of the thrice-annexed ghost marshes, and keeper of the secretest of secrets, a secret so secret not even a fellow as wise and wonderful as Piknik the Bold can know it! (That guy can't keep anything to himself)*

Twas long ago in the Forest of Avalon when King Overlong and Tatiana werest wed, and of course the royal lovers didst make with much spungilious merriment and boogying. A great feast was prepared in honor of their divine nuptials, and the strange and silly folks who attended (both invited and otherwise) were showered in delightful cakes and crumpets and all manner of tasty treats! In fact, Lord Ubersong himself was chowing down on a delightful stew made with beef tips and carrots and, unfortunately, a handful of radishes (sneaky little monsters...), but alas his joy and merriment were to be cut short! For when he moved to take up his beef tips with his spoon, the meat proved too slippery, and plopped back into the broth! In his hanger, Evergong threw over the tables, and ran about the hall smashing pots and barrels, and demanded his most trusted blacksmith be brought forth. As Blorghi the One Eye'd (a mad half-troll from a lovely little swamp up north. I'm reasonably sure he's my great aunt. Don't ask.) stepped forth, the fair King demanded he craft him a utensil that could hold both broth and meat, simultaneously! Blorghi nodded grimly and retreated to his workshop, and after days of drafting and planning, he crafted IT! Carved from the antler of a wild stag, preserved in a layer of amber, fired and hardened in Blorghi's kiln and finally sprinkled with a pinch of glitter (vital), the mystic Spork was presented to the young King. They say Groberon still keeps the Spork amongst his personal cutlery at his place at the head of his great table, amidst the largest and most shimmery mead hall, in case his chefs ever deign to make the tricksy beef stew again (all chefs involved in Blorgon's wedding feast were fired, beaten, mocked in public, beheaded and finally stabbed).

Attributes:

You can use it to eat soup! AND gafelka fish! What is this beauteous absurdity?!?!?!

Stats:

While King What's-His-Chunks isn't too keen on sharing the spork, if you were to get your mits on it you could probably poke someone in the tuckus with it for 1d6 damage.

Also, while it has never been tested in the field, I'm reasonably sure the spork can be used to open a portal to the Twice Forgotten Squishy Realms and summon a Pernicious Flicker-Whistler: a rotundous and flippery beast with the head of an elephant, the eyes of a spider, the beak of a rock hopper penguin, the body of a giraffe, and a series of tentacles of various lengths where its legs should be. This beast is incredibly powerful and well versed in the forgotten Arcane Arts of Shallacky the Soup Mage, and armed as such it would be more than capable of sending our world careening towards oblivion in its tentacular fury. Don't quote me on that though.

Tom Thumb and Thumbelina/To the Roots of a Forgotten World Tree

Journal, Seventeenth Entry

A Lost Hero and a Terrible Wyrm

Upon entering the shimmering gate in the dream realm, we found ourselves lost amidst a queer forest. We stood in a shallow creek, and followed our watery path until we came to a great tree, guided all the while by Tom Thumb. It felt strange in that place, for though there was a serene quietness, I could not help but feel as though we were not alone. This confusing feeling was soon cleared up though, for upon reaching the tree, it's great trunk twisted about to face us, and in its bark we could clearly make out the visage of a humanoid face. Tom informed us that , using the dream realm created by the candle jumping ritual as a midpoint, we had found our way into his and Thumbelina's people's version of the afterlife, and we were in the presence of a once powerful and respected elder of their people. It was then that we were told a great story, though Tom had to translate the elder's strange words.

For according to the legends of the Fire Lilly Tribe (for that is what Thumbelina's people were called), Gray Realm was once a barren land, devoid of all life, a dark and frigid desert. One day, Belebog himself, lord of light and the sun, saw fit to create a small well, with waters blessed by his divine power, and by this well he planted Gray Realm's first seed. Drinking up the enchanted water of the well, this seed grew to great and glorious tree, Irminsul as the Fire Lilly Tribe called it- a world tree that brought life to the barren land. For Irminsul was followed by hundreds and thousands of trees, creating the great forest of Avalon, and so too did living things come to Gray Realm, springing up from the enchanted forest and making their way out and towards the sea. But the first and greatest of all living things in Gray Realm were the Flower Drakes: curious draconic beings with holy power, the creatures that came to our aid against the Kala Demon. The Flower Drakes sought to protect Irminsul and preserve it, and so they created the Fire Lilly tribe to aid them, birthing the fairies from flowers that grew under Irminsul's protection. For many ages, the Flower Drakes and the Fire Lilly Tribe lived in peace in the shade of Irminsul, but alas such times are not meant to last. For the fell Lindorms who lived deep under mountains and hills to the North rode to war against the Flower Drake's, for you see their leader, Veles the Night Serpent had been trapped under Irminsul's roots by his nemesis, Perun the Storm Lord (I remember that guy!), and the Flower Drake's refused to allow the Lindorms to free their dark lord, fearing Irminsul would be destroyed in the process. The Fire Lilly warriors proved more powerful than the Lindorms reckoned, for despite their tiny stature they commanded great magicks, and so the Lindorms sought to make soldiers of their own. This ultimately lead to the creation of Kala and the Wolf Tribe, who would go on to wipe out the Fire Lillies and the Flower Drakes, freeing Veles and doing great damage to the forest that would not repair itself for a great long time. However, before the Wolf Tribe came to the Fire Lilly lands, the elders sought a way to preserve their people and the Flower Drakes even if they should be defeated. It was then that they created very special seeds, which would grow into powerful beings. In one seed they stored the knowledge of the Fire Lilly Tribe, which would grow into a new King who would lead the the tribe when they were resurrected anew. In the other seed was stored their magical and military might, and this seed would give birth to a great warrior who would defend the newborn tribe from harm. These seeds were then sent off to different parts of Gray Realm for their protection, but someday the occupants of the seeds would be drawn back to the great Tree, and upon reaching the Well deep underground, their destinies would be fulfilled...

Upon returning from the dream realm, Oberon asked us to journey forth towards Irminsul, for he believed that with the aid of the Flower Drakes, the tide could be turned against the Wild Hunt and the Unseelie Court. Thus did we set out for Thumbelina's homeland, though Tom Thumb, weakened and sick after the experience of the ritual, would have to accompany us in Johan's satchel. However, before leaving Oberon's hall, he gave us a fell warning. For you see, the Lindorms sent a great lieutenant of their ranks to guard the Well: Fafnir the Terrible, a great and powerful Lindorm with fell magicks at his command. A legendary hero by the Name of Siegfried had once journeyed forth to slay Fafnir, but alas, this Siegfried had never returned. As a final warning, Oberon asked us to not partake of any of Fafnir's treasure should we face him, for it was said to be cursed...

Upon arriving at the base of Irminsul, we were greeted by a curious figure: a lanky Dwarven wizard he was, and he was napping atop a pile of dead, giant beetles. However, the most curious aspect of this fellow was that he had a rusty axe blade embedded in his forehead, though it seemed not to bother him. Piknik seemed to recognize the fellow as an old friend, and greeted him as "Axe-Face" (shocker...). This Axe-Face, pleasantly surprised to see his old friend again, informed us that he used to have visions of Irminsul, and sought it out as he believed it was calling to him to be its protector. He had been residing in the ruins of the Fire Lilly Tribe's kingdom, defending the Tree from magical creatures and insects, and lead us to the path to the Well. Before departing to face Fafnir, Axe-Face gave us a final cryptic warning, stating plainly, "there's a dragon down there that turns people into dragons."

Though the path to Well would have been well kept in the care of the Fire Lilly Tribe, years of neglect had turned it into a dark and foreboding cavern, and what was more many creatures had burrowed in and made residence in the tunnels, greatly hindering our advance. Two disturbing things did I discover whilst battling through that dark, damp place: 1) Johan and Elsa had an ulterior motive for journeying to face Fafnir, for I overheard them speaking something about a sword, and how this mysterious curse would hinder their plans, and 2) the dilapidated journal of poor Siegfried. Many pages were missing, and many were damaged and stained beyond recognition, but the entries I could make out were grim, and did not bode well. For Siegfried had in fact slain Fafnir long ago, and though this news made me glad, the news that followed returned my misery twice over. For it would seem that Siegfried had been claimed by the curse of the treasure, driving him to madness! He would not leave the cave for fear of someone making off with his horde, though he claimed he had found supernatural powers upon consuming Fafnir's heart and flesh. I had my suspicions that we would run into Siegfried eventually, though in what form I could not say, so I kept this information to myself.

While resting between battles, Johan and Elsa revealed there hidden intent: After finally defeating the Pale Queen, we would need to replace her with a new monarch lest the lands be plunged into chaos. Elsa's story had already been spread throughout the land, and the people had become greatly endeared to her, and thus she seemed a ripe candidate. Furthermore, Elsa was in fact a distant relative of Siegfried, and though his line had officially ended, she would have a claim to royal blood. Johan and Elsa then had planned to retrieve Siegfried's sword as a means of solidifying her claim to leadership, though the curse complicated matters. As far as they knew, Siegfried had been killed by the Lindorm and his sword claimed as part of the horde, and therefore was under the curse. I too believed the sword would be cursed, though obviously for different reasons...

We soon found the cursed horde of the Lindorm and readied ourselves for the impending attack, but my friends were greatly surprised to find a much different type of monster wandering those halls. Gaunt and blind and raving in his loneliness, we came upon the ancient and pitiable Siegfried of legend. He called out to us, demanding an explanation for our intrusion into his lair, and even when presented with the plight of Elsa, his heir, he raved suspiciously, and of dark things. Poor Kamien tried to take the sword by force, and though he be the stoutest and mightiest warrior of our party, Siegfried sent him reeling with a single kick! A darkness took Siegfried then, and screaming his body twisted and contorted as his frail mortal form gave way to a great and terrible wyrm!

We fought with Siegfried long, and he proved a deadly opponent, proving more than a match for even our strongest warriors. Thumbelina and Piknik both sent volleys of powerful spells towards the hellish thing, and still he strove forth, madly and violently. I have no illusions about my role in our party: I am but a humble bard, here to record what I can for future generations. I knew I would only be in the way for this fight and thus, riding a giant beetle I had tamed in an earlier corridor, I attempted to find my way towards the Well. Many details of the battle have been recounted to me by my friends, describing the terror of Siegfried's claws and fangs, and how he spewed a stream of steaming blood that burned and nearly drowned several of them. Twas Elsa who landed the final blow, for in a weakened state Siegfried became human once more, and Elsa planted an arrow directly between his blind eyes.

Not sure what to do with the sword for now, most of the party followed me down to the Well (Piknik stayed behind to sit on Siegfried's throne and play with the sword). Tom, suddenly emboldened by being so close to Irminsul's roots, leaped from Johan's satchel and commanded Thumbelina to present her birth petal, which she had carried with her after she hatched from a rose so many years ago. Holding hands with Tom, she placed the petal atop the water, and they both touched its surface. The water began to swirl and churn, and a great green light burst forth, and in this light a swarm of Flower Drakes flew threw the air and back towards the tunnel. When the light receded, we found the Well dry, though the birth petal rested at the base of the Well. We were greatly surprised though when the petal began to levitate, and twisted and contorted itself to form a great red Flower Drake! This new being nestled up to Thumbelina, and speaking in  the common tongue, thanked her for her great efforts in restoring what had been lost. The red Flower Drake lead us up the tunnel, excited to show us all that we had achieved. The other Flower Drakes had already restored the tunnel to its proper form, and as such the dark halls were now lit with floating green orbs, and the fell creatures had been cleared out. Unfortunately, the great piles of treasure had been destroyed, and in their place great mounds of moss and flowers rose up instead. Piknik was found in a very disheartened state, for the sword had indeed been under the curse too, and its blade had been eroded away by the Flower Drakes. Piknim sat clutching the hilt only, but the Flower Drake said it understood our need for the blade, and used its magic to form a new, green blade that sprouted from the hilt (being of good humor, Johan allowed Piknik to keep the sword until he and Elsa would need it). Upon reaching the surface again, we saw the beautiful birthing fields of the Fire Lilly Tribe, once empty and barren but now covered in flowers nearly ready to bloom with new fairies. Finally, Tom and Thumbelina were shown to the restored castle keep of their people, where Tom was presented with kingly robes, and Thumbelina was granted Holy Chitin Armor, an honoured boon of past warriors. We were about to return to Oberon in triumph when we bumped back into Axe-Face, who informed us some strange soldiers were asking for us, who claimed that King Oberon was already dead... 

*this entry's illustration was done in the style of Mike Mignola, creator the long running Hellboy graphic novel series, which came to a poignant and beautiful ending earlier this week. Rest easy Hellboy, the dark and frightening things that go bump in the night will never be the same without you!

What Fools Us Mortals Be

Journal, Sixteenth Entry

The Fey Lord and his Trusted Servant

As we neared the capital of Avalon, my companions and I came across a small band of undead soldiers, shambling members of the Wild Hunt. Though not long work for seasoned adventurers like ourselves, it was during this skirmish that we were met by a curious being: horned was he in visage, with the lower half of his sculpted form being that of a deer or goat. With a knowing grin he announced himself as Puck, servant of lord Oberon, King of the Forest of Avalon. As he led us toward our destination, he shared with us some of the troubles besetting the kingdom of late: for it would seem the Queen of the forest, lady Titania, has left the kingdom and her husband after their most recent quarrel (apparently concerning a dalliance on the part of the King), and is believed to have sided with the leader of the Wild Hunt to spite her lover. This was an ill tiding for Oberon. For he and Titania share a seat on the Council of Seasons: an alliance of powerful beings who preside over, and whose power is tied to, the seasons of the Year. As such, Titania and Oberon would be in the prime of their power, with summer being upon us, but their separation meant that equal parts of this power were divided amongst sides. The Wild Hunt and the Unseelie Court had the advantage of Titania's power, while we were sided with Oberon's.

I was taken aback upon meeting the Fey King in person: for in the full prime of his glory, he was a mighty figure to behold, and his kingdom too blossomed with beauty unequal in the lands of mortals, even when beset by the woes of war. However, with Unseelie Court back in his Forest, and with the mysterious Wild Huntsman after his excellency, Oberon seemed unsure how much help he could spare our rebellion. However, he did believe he could help us in some way, and thus did he bring about a curious reunion.

He led us to his dungeons, wherein we were met by a flustered Jack Nimble, who had apparently been attempting to negotiate the release of our old friend Tom Thumb. For it would seem that after his and Thumbelina's experience in Dornstadt with the whole everybody-turned-into-a-plant-monster thing, poor Tom was plagued by whispered pleas from plant life day and night, calling to him at times in a queer tongue he could not quitter make out, yet felt strangely familiar. He felt compelled to answer this strange calling, believing that doing so would somehow reveal much about his and Thumbelina's origins. As such, he asked Jack to perform a certain candle jumping ritual, not to proclaim the future as he did long ago when we first met him, but to cull forgotten information from the past. Jack flatly refused, still believing his candle jumping to be a dangerous magic that should only be used as a last resort, and thus did Tom steal into Jack's quarters to attempt the ritual himself. However, something had gone horribly wrong: Tom's eyes glowed with a frightening green aura, and shouting in an alien tongue he fled into the forest! Jack had tracked Tom to Oberon's court, where the poor fellow was being held after attacking (and apparently causing serious damage to) a contingent of Oberon's soldiers. Jack believed he could correct and reverse the botched ritual, but Oberon had been hesitant to allow this. Vouching for our friends, we were able to convince the Lord of the Forest to go through with Jack's plan, and so we removed Tom from bondage. He was a fearful sight: ragged where his clothes, and gaunt and sickly was his complexion. His eyes glowed frighteningly, and he raved and foamed gibberish unceasingly. As Jack made the necessary preparations for his ritual, Jack apparently had a moment of clarity, and spoke clearly and softly with Thumbelina: he believed he had made contact with their people! Before he could say more though, Jack prepared his ritual leap. Before he made the jump though, he warned us that the process of correcting the ritual could have unpredictable side effects, and commanded us to steel ourselves for whatever may happen. And with that, he jumped.

And we were taken by darkness.

Gone were Jack, Tom and Oberon, and were we lost in a lightless void. However, a dim red glow cut the darkness, a glow that soon becoming a glaring crimson. Dimly could I make out the features of my allies, waiting silently and nervously for whatever frightful sight awaited us. A familiar voice rang out in the shadows.

"You sent me to Hell... Devoured me, damned me. Burnt my flesh, crushed my bones... But now, you join me..."

A thin, clawed hand ruptured the floor, and soon a gruesome hairy body pulled itself up onto the surface. Hollow, dead eyes glared at us in gleeful hate from the mangy visage of our traitorous friend: Kala had returned. But as his torso loomed into view, another face peered out from his hulking shoulders. Another voice, more proud and deceptively soft called out.

"In the City of Briars I walked free like some Night God, my eldritch glory unloosed and unbound in triumohant. And you, unworthy and unwashed mortals, you stole my triumph, cut down my children running free in the street..."

Twas the charred face of the Lord of the Wolfshades. But still the torso rose, and another face did we see. No voice called out clear, for the third head of the Kala-Thing was gagged and blindfolded: the tortured countenance of Eisengraham, Rumplestilskin's unwilling steed, who had helped Kala and the Wolf destroy Thumbelina's people so many years ago. The beast's corded, hunched back boiled and undulated, and three pairs of wings, black and gangly like those of a vulture, protruded from his spine. And the thing was upon us!

The Kala-Thing proved fearsome indeed, commanding uncanny strength and making use of Kala's old spells. Thumbelina tried to use her magicks to summon a swarm to aid us in battle, but whatever creatures lurked in that dark place (if any did dwell there) seemed to ignore her voice. However, we were soon beset by other horrors. For Piknik, readying a spell, found himself beset by a swarm of lady bugs, which suddenly dragged him through the floor, and into a different world entirely. For the swarm dragged him into an odd sea of red clouds, and to his horror the swarm took on the vague shape of a woman. This deeply disturbed Piknik, but I have been unsuccessful in learning the meaning of this vision from him. Occultis was also plagued by an apparition, a more familiar figure to us all: For Occultis found himself standing on an ethereal chess board, facing a lone opponent: O'Donahue, wreathed in ebony stone like a terrible, living Rook, and still wielding his thundering sword.

It was at this time that I, appropriately distanced from the battle, decided to consult my notes, and see if I could glean any understanding of our nightmarish predicament, for something did feel oddly familiar about this scenario. Sure enough, I came across a tale or two, and a few scribbles of verse collected from some small town or port I visited long ago, detailing an encounter such as this: for the tale I discovered described a weary old soldier who, having outlived all his comrades, wished desperately to have a drink with them one last time. He consulted a candle jumper of some repute, but the soothsayer would not hear him out. Like Tom, the old soldier attempted the ritual himself, but he was not greeted by his old friends, but found himself surrounded by the grinning, undead forms of all the enemies he had cut down in his youth...

It was hear that despair truly clutched my heart, for I feared what other dastardly apparitions we would face in this nightmare world. However, these fears were quickly put to rest: Thumbelina's swarm finally heeded her call. They came like a flying river of green light, which swarmed and churned around us and our foes. I remember a warm, light sensation, trapped in that swirl of light, as the odd little beings healed my wounds. But they treated our enemies to no such courtesy: They crushed the ghostly chess board, delivering Occultis safely to us, while sealing the O'Donahue creature in eternal stone, as well as eroding and undoing the Kala-Thing before our very eyes. Piknik too was saved, as the lady bug swarm was surrounded by the green creatures, and the swarm no longer droned in anger but in peace; the storm clouds parted, and Piknik thought he could see the womanly formation waving in friendly departure as he was spirited back to us. It was then that I noticed the once barren landscape of that dream realm had sprung up in life, with thick, tall grass and beautiful flowers. The green swarm started to calm, and I saw our new allies more clearly: they reminded me of tiny dragons, though they seemed playful and friendly (indeed, three of them tackled Thumbelina, licking her face like a troupe of excited puppies), but where one would expect scales there protruded grass blades and flower petals, and they had multiple wings of a similarly botanical aesthetic. It was then that we were reunited with Jack, Tom and Oberon, as the three of them rode in on a much larger version of the flower creatures, with Jack directing the gentle beast at the head. With a flick of the steed's tail, a great grren gate appeared in the grassland, which glowed with a warm, otherworldly hue. Tom smiled at Thumbelina, his eyes clear and his countenance again at peace and healthy (although I noticed his once brown irises had taken an apple green appearance) and said calmly and without hurry:

"Thumbelina, are you ready to meet our People?"

Into the Forests of Avalon

Journal, Fifteenth Entry



A Fell, Cyclopean Raven

Having secured the Beast King's support, we finally made our way into the fey forest. We each took a member of the contingent of Red Cap soldiers under our wing for the journey: With Kolobok went the Kobold Brothers, living statues created by Mathis the Talking Book from Brumig's childhood home who commanded strategic defense capabilities thanks to their mighty tower shields; Occultis welcomed Oison, the repentant priest we met in DerBlitzvolks who had known Gabriel (... speaking of, whatever happened to Gabriel?); Thumbelina adopted Jurgin, the spurned child of the Troll King, and Piknik found a welcome ally in a talented dwarven blacksmith. I myself took Elsa as an apprentice, and Kamien became the new body guard for our leader, Johan. With much trepidation did we enter the forest, for it is said that queer creatures and fey varieties roam free, beings with little love for humble mortals such as ourselves. Darkness found us soon, forcing us to make camp, and huddled around the fire we learned of the new leader of the Unseelie Court. According to Johan, our defeat of Carabosse in Dornstadt was not the end of the fell collective, and in their desperation they elected the leader of the Wild Hunt: a yearly event, being a dark parade of undead warriors and their ebony hunting hounds, led by a mysterious and powerful warrior. None know his name. None know where he comes from. For none dare follow his bloody trail to find out. With this knowledge, sleep did not soon find us. And once found it did not long stay.

For in the dead of night we were besieged by fey enemies! Strange beings had invaded our tents, like Greenmen they were, but much taller and more powerful. And worse, these lords amongst Greenmen had abilities we did not expect, for stooping over our sleeping friends the fiends could unfurl their skeleton chests and let loose a cloud of spores, which incapacitated several of us, causing us hellish nightmares and hallucinations. Kamien, acting as lookout, was first to notice we had been invaded, and with a war cry he rallied those of us unaffected to fight. We were able to push back the Greenlords after a time, but loping towards us through the queer forest was even more trouble. Like living statues of some black metal, the Hounds of the Wild Hunt were upon us, and they were joined by strange undead soldiers. Black was their armor, and their eyes glowed a pale blue in their rotted sockets, but more bizarre yet was the manner in which they approached us: spirit-like, they gently fell from the sky!

Wave after wave of our enemies attacked us, and as we thinned their ranks I thought I could see the dim glint of dawn over the trees. The night was almost won! But alas, we were not finished. For a great Forest Spirit entered the fray, a being of similar creed to our fallen friend Betto, though this beast had the general body of a bear, with the head of a badger and the spines of a porcupine. At first we thought him an ally, for our actions in Dornstadt had won us the friendship of these spirits. But this poor creature bore only malice, growling rabidly and staring intensely with glazed eyes. As we began to grapple with the poor brute, Piknik noticed a strange sight: a great, cyclopean raven, whose singular eye watched our fight most intently. Deducing their was more to the creature than meets the eye, Piknik was able to use his magicks to release the raven's control over the forest spirit. With dawn fully upon us, the raven fled, but the forest spirit was more than willing to share what information he had. To our dismay, he informed us that the leader of the Wild Hunt had invaded Avalon, and sought Oberon's head...

The Fey Market

The Beast King's Rose

Journal, Fourteenth Entry

Having finally reached Stolzreich, we were overjoyed to finally be reunited with our fearless leaders, Johan and Elsa Redcap of the Red Cap rebellion! Many tales did we share with our brooding commander of the exploits we had partaken of since last we had met, including the slaying of the Troll King (Queen, whatever), the Battle of Dornstadt, and of course the betrayal of Kala. But there was little time for words, for Johan had one more task in mind before setting out for Avalon. For Stolzreich commands the various trade routes and agencies of Gray Realm, and as such the kingdom would have made a mighty ally in our battle against the Pale Queen. We made our case before Erik the Beast King (now cured, thankfully, of his former beastly-ness due to his recent marriage to lady Belle), but alas, the fellow would not throw in with us. Perhaps, in days past he would have found the promise of battle more tempting, but on this day, the Beast King chose to remain neutral.

At least, he did at first.

For when our party was preparing to leave that night, he came to us, shrouded and in a rage. Someone had stolen his precious rose, which he had cared for day and night in wait for a maiden who could love him despite his fearsome appearance. He promised us if we found it, and the theif who dared to steal from him, he would ensure all trade with the Pale Queen would be cut off in Gray Realm. He instructed us to seek out the Fey Market: a curious place were magic creatures and curious merchants gather to sell and trade queer goods and baubles, the door to which was said to be guarded by a magic troll. We followed his directions to an old stone bridge, formed over a dried creek bed. It was here that we met the troll, though he was not quite what we expected. For in his many years guarding the door under the bridge, he seemed to have molded into the bridge itself! Thus, coughing stones and dirt, the poor brute challenged us to a game of riddles before we could enter the market.

Having bested him, we made our way inside, and our breath was taken away at the sight of all the strange and curious vendors. Here we split up, each member of our party spying for the thief, but in doing so we each found ourselves in various predicaments. I myself was challenged by the same Platypus Demon I had faced in Dornstadt to a Contest of Drums, which is of course the only way to defeat a Platypus Demon, should you ever meet one. I also acquired a new lute from a traveling piper, who was followed by a trail of mice and children servants, before finding none other than Jimmy Squarefoot trapped in a cage behind a shady merchant's booth. Apparently, the shady merchant had trapped Jimmy at the request of a mysterious O'Donahue.

However, Occultis had his own problems. For it seemed that the chess set he won from the stranger at the Muffin Man's stag party, was none other than Death's Chess set! A deadly, eldritch boon from the underworld, which kills those who play and lose! Desperate to get rid of the thing, Occultis searched madly for someone to play against (preferably someone evil, so he wouldn't feel bad about it if he won). Luckilly, he bumped into Varjo's ghost, who had been sent to run some errands in the magical market by his Underworld Overlords. Varjo suggested he challenge a certain O'Donahue, a curious figure who apparently ran the market. Furthermore, this O'Donahue was of a rare race of giants from far north, a Daoine Sidhe, who have an obsessive love of chess. Occultis made his way to this O'Donahue's temple abode, which was where our party regrouped. For I two had grown curious of this O'Donahue after finding my old friend trapped for his pleasure, and Jimmy was most ready to claim reparations from his would be captor. However, Kolobok had beaten us there, joined by Elsa Redcap herself, who had snuck along for the adventure, eager for experience. For they had found the rose and it's thief: The Puss in Boots himself, our friend from the Muffin Man's village! Upon finally meeting O'Donahue all our questions were answered: For O'Donahue had been hired to use his various resources to create a new body for a fell, ethereal entity, a formless evil inhabiting a plain cloak. For this heretical concoction, O'Donahue required a body strong enough to contain the magicks of the formless being (apparently my poor friend Jimmy), a goodly portion of Royal Blood (trace amounts of which remained on the Rose's thorns, probably either from the Beast King's clumsy grasp in his previous form, or some accident had by Belle), and finally the sword of a God. It was here that my heart sank, for the strange giant unsheathed none other than the dreaded Blade of Kullervo. We found ourselves surrounded by O'Donahue's minions, being enchanted statues strong enough to uproot a forest if they so chose, and we feared we would be a captive audience to O'Donahue's dark work. He paused for a moment though, sniffing the air, and to our horror he turned to Elsa Redcap with a wicked grin. For he had been disappointed with the limited amount of royal blood on the rose, and wasn't sure if it would serve his needs, but curiously, he smelled royal blood flowing freely through Elsa's veins! It was here that Occultis spoke out. For he challenged O'Donahue to a deadly game of chess, and a dark bargain was struck: If Occultis won, we would claim the rose and leave unharmed. If O'Donahue won though, not only would we lose Occultis, but the dark giant would claim Elsa's lifeblood as well...

For hours we sat, sweating in anticipation as Occultis and O'Donahue locked wits over the eldritch chess board. At times it felt like days passed between moves. The bone chess pieces clacked back and forth, echoing on for minutes at a time for the hall was so silent. However, after much deliberation and careful strategy, Occultis proved the victor! O'Donahue's last breaths came quickly, and his minions crumbled to dust. However, the game was not quite over, for as per the rules of the dark chess set, Occultis had to name a successor, a new owner of the board. We chose Puss in Boots, as punishment for his betrayal, and we claimed the rose from him. But before we left, we turned to the cloaked entity, who was waiting in the hopes that O'Donahue would prove the victor and he could obtain his new body. We asked him who his was and his motivation. In answer, he let loose the howl of a wolf. He explained that it was he who had given the golden whip and heretical Alchemist book to Kolobok's parents in an earlier attempt at contracting a new body. Attended by two gangly Wolfshades, the being left, his identity now much clearer...

Having returned the rose to the Beast King, our party finally set off for Avalon, and the fey dangers that awaited...

The Marriage of the Muffin Man/Piknik's Past

A Curious Monument

Journal, Thirteenth Entry

Before leaving the Farmlands, Soren informed us that Stolzreich was a two day journey, and as such he offered to send word to a business associate of his deceased parents that he believed would take us in for the night. Following Soren's directions, we arrived at a lovely small town and found the address of the fellow: 7922 Drury Lane. There we were greeted by a most agreeable baker, whose signature muffins had made him somewhat of a local celebrity. we had little time to rest though, for our host was to be married in the morning, and as a show of hospitality he invited us to his stag party. We made our way to the tavern, and enjoyed an evening of drink and song. While there we made the acquaintance of an interesting figure: a traveling sell-sword, being a humanoid cat of the same race as Kala and Reynard, who had apparently fought in the battle for Dornstadt. He wielded a rapier and wore boots of a fine make, and challenged members of our party to a friendly fencing match. Occultis also made an interesting acquaintance, having been challenged by a stranger to a game of chess. Having bested the stranger, Occultis seemed to have inherited the chess set, for the fellow stood up, relieved, and quietly left the bar, never to be seen by our party again...

However, our resident wizard was not privy to our partying, for he had his own intriguing events to consider. For behind the tavern, seated in the center of a great fountain, there stood a memorial to a wizard very much like himself, with his name inscribed on the statuary no less! He then made the acquaintance of the tavern master, a grey skinned goblin who simply called himself Jim, but alas! The strange creature knew Piknik by name! The confused creature had many questions for Piknik, but Piknik's memory still failed him. The goblin, in an attempt to arouse Piknik's memory, showed him a secret chamber underneath the tavern: the Hall of the Order of Unlikely, being a loose alliance of curious magic users, of which Piknik was the apparent leader. The goblin presented Piknik with his old Arch Mage staff, to which Piknik responded enthusiastically: "send word to our friends. We're getting the gang back together!"

The following morning, we regrouped and attended our new friend's wedding. It had started out as a lovely ceremony, with Kolobok acting as best man, and delivering a moving (if clumsy) speech. However, our joy was cut short when the ceremony was infiltrated by a fell Gigas: a horrid ogre, with skin of pure gold. The eldritch beast smashed through the church, knocking the Muffin Man's blushing bride unconscious, as it began to terrorize the town. Piknik seemed to know more about the creature than he let on, but we could not pry any information from him. If nothing else, this day proved that there was far more to Piknik than meets the eye. Thumbelina used her magicks to cause the creature's metallic skin to burn mercilessly, and the thing fled into the hills. As such, the boisterous baker put together a hunting party, including our group
and the feline sell-sword, and we followed it's trail deep into a cavernous tunnel. When we found it, it's wounds had been healed by a mysterious undead creature with a charred cloak. The being shot Piknik a knowing wink before disappearing, and we found ourselves locked in battle with the Gigas. The brute used its tremendous strength and antlers to grapple with us, but in our struggle we brought down the tunnel atop the beast's head, seemingly defeating it. The town had been saved and the day had been won, but it would seem we have much to learn concerning the Past of Piknik...

Rubezahl

Rubezahl

Rubezahl

NO. ENCOUNTERED: 1
SIZE: Giant (26')
HIT DICE: 19d8+2-7
MOVE: 15 
ARMOR CLASS: 12 
NO. of ATTACKS: 1
DAMAGE:  1d10 (fists); 2d8 (staff)
SPECIAL: Spells 
SAVES:  Physical

INTELLIGENCE: High
ALIGNMENT: Neutral
TYPE:  Humanoid
ORGANIZATION: Solitary
ACTIVITY CYCLE: Day
EXPERIENCE: 14,000 

Should the novice adventurer find him/herself in Grayrealm's northern border, they'd do well to tip their hat and leave a peace offering to Rubezahl: a friendly yet unpredictable giant who makes his home in the mountains and hill country. A jovial fellow, it would not be wholly uncommon to find him strolling about, walking stick in hand, and laughing and singing and lobbing playful jests to passersby. Though unruly, Rubezahl can become the warmest and most generous of friends in a moment. But then... As I say, he is an unpredictable fellow. At a moments notice he might become downcast and stoic, or even cruel and menacing. Alas, his mood can change like the weather, and unfortunately I mean that literally: should you find him in a fine mood, he may bless your travels with calm winds and warm sunlight, but alas, should he go into one of his fits he may bombard the hill country with hail and lightning. All in all, he's a pleasant enough fellow, but the novice adventurer would do well not to trouble him... 

Combat:

Should the innocent traveler come upon Rubezahl in one of his foul moods, or worse yet should the witless nincompoop actually incur the fellows wrath, they will face a mighty foe indeed, for Rubezahl's fighting can be as unpredictable as his temperament: in one moment he may rush upon you, stomping and swatting like a mad man, or striking out with his great walking stick. Another moment though and he may retreat, and from afar would bombard you with his magicks. For Rubezahl is well versed in the magic arts, and casts druid spells at the seventh caster level. He may strike you with sleet, wind or searching bolts of lightning. But alas, nature too is at his command, and with the plucking of his harp strings the very forest would move against you. And even still he may pay you no attention at all, calling forth 2d4+1 beasts from the wilderness or 1d6 Green Men to rend you limb from limb. And of course there is always the chance that he may throw down his weapons with a laugh, and slapping you on the back he might invite you in for a meal and a brew.

Habit/Society:

As far as I know, poor Rubezahl is the only one of his kind. He lives a solitary life style in a small (by his reckoning) cabin, though he spends most of his days walking about the hills and forests, playing his harp and singing old songs of his own invention. He seems not to mind his lonely life style though, or at least not most of the time. Perhaps his mood swings are a result of his long standing isolation: left to his own devices for great lengths, he may find it hard to reconcile his thoughts of the outside world, one day greatly appreciating a brief brake for his stoic monotony, another day finding the company of others a great intrusion and annoyance. The safest bet would be to a leave an offering, for across his country one may find a series of small, rustic shrines. He accepts many varieties of gifts and offerings, though beer and foodstuffs would be his preference. However, one must be deadly careful not to leave an offering of turnips. A certain situation involving a princess left him none too keen on the vegetable. These offerings might be collected by the fellow himself or Green Men acting in his service. Also, it may seem strange, but I would highly suggest the novice adventurer not to call Rubezahl by his name. He apparently finds the name insulting, preferring lofty titles such as Lord of the Mountain, Lord of the Storm, or Lord John (don't ask me why), although sometimes he may introduce himself simply with the name of his mountain: Krakonos.

[These stats have been adapted from the updated 1993 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Monstrous Manual

and from the 2011 Castles & Crusades Monsters & Treasure manual for use in our campaign using the Castles & Crusades SIEGE engine.]

Kullervo's Blade

Kullervo's Blade

Kullervo's Blade

Woe unto that poor youth Kullervo! For this be the cruel blade that didst drink his young blood when, alas, Kullervo had slain all those he desired to slay only to find his family struck down themselves, and in  his grief he didst throw himself upon the ebony spike and breathed no more. Aye, the dark blade welcomed Kullervo's life fluids, as satisfied to end the lad's rage-filled life as it was to cut down his foes... And the blade made sure Kullervo knew as much. For the blade is no mere sword of mortal make but an enchanted sword, a boon stolen from the hordes of Ukko, a storm god from foreign parts, and the sword has a mind and desires of its own. The blade clattered to the hard ground with clang like unto thunder as Kullervo fell dead beside it, and in that sad, desolate place it should have stayed. But alas, there are always bandits afoot in places such as those, and so the sword was taken. Tis a dreaded boon of rage and power, dragging its wielder into crazed battle, hewing down foes with cold delight before finally claiming its wielder as it did Kullervo. The tragic ritual has been repeated countless times, and as to who the current holder is or what the sword desires, who can say? Mayhpas the sword wishes to find its way back home, to Ukko's armory , or perhaps it merely revels in the heat of battle, taking strength and nourishment from the blood spattered upon its edge. Whatever the case, the novice adventurer would do well to think twice before taking up the ebony blade...

Attributes:

As a Lord of Storm, like Perūn, it should be no surprise that Ukko's blade can channel the elemental powers. The blade's hilt is also noteworthy, for it was carved from a rowan tree, making it especially effective against fey creatures. However, the most curious aspect of the blade is its effect on its wielder. Adventurers that have wielded the blade over the years have usually stumbled upon it at a moment of great sorrow and tragedy. Whether by fate, design or coincidence, such downcast warriors find themselves seduced by the weapon, feeling the raw, angry powers hidden just beneath the dark surface. The longer one holds the blade, the more difficult it will become to control themselves in battle. Many a promising warrior has found himself so taken with the blade and the heat and glory of battle that they don't even realize they've gutted their own friends and families, with some spending hours under the blade's berserker spell before returning to their senses. It is usually at this point that despondent fighters will cast themselves upon the blade, and the tragic cycle begins anew...

Stats:

Damage: 1d10+1d6 spark damage
Aura of Confusion (Fey only): as the hilt is carved from Rowan tree wood, fey creatures that come within a ten foot diameter surrounding the wielder will be struck with confusion (acts as spell). WIS save negates.
Spells: Because of the Blade's connection to the god Ukko, once per week (once per day for wielders with a WIS score of 16 and above) may cast one of the following spells: Wall of Wind, Sleet Storm or Lightning Bolt
Berserk: The wielder must pass a WIS check after three combat rounds have passed, and each subsequent combat round to ensure they do not mistake friends as foes. The initial challenge level will be 2, with the challenge level increasing by 1 every combat round (Example: after 8 combat rounds, the wielder will have to subtract 7 from their WIS save).

Furthermore, the Blade has occasionally spoken with a human voice. The most noteworthy example of this was during Kullervo's lament, wherein the lad asked the blade if it would accept it's wielders life, to which the Blade responded with delight at the idea. Who knows what else the cruel thing might have to say...?

The Farmlands

Journal, Twelfth Entry

A Curious Creature in a Strange Land

The battle with Carrabosse had taken a hefty toll upon our group. We were three men down:
Kolobok, slayed by our friend Kala; Kala, the traitor, slayed by Grumpuddle in vengeance; and Kamien, who had been greatly wounded in the final battle. Confined to a bed for days, we wondered if he would ever awaken. His sword arm was lost in the battle: severely burned and lacerated, I am told he would've been in constant agony if the arm had not been amputated. Wilheim had replaced it with a wooden replica which, thanks to his magicks, would work just as well as his old arm when Kamien awoke. He finally did one morning, after sharing a final conversation with Varjo in a vision, and was greatly surprised by his new limb. However, this turned out to be a blessing. For Wilheim led Kamien underneath the castle to a long neglected compartment, the former domicile of the Knight of Briars: a mysterious champion who came to the city long ago to study his crafts, apparently the ways of the mage and warrior both, and who disappeared as suddenly as he had come. He had left his armour and sword though, but alas, none could weild the fine things. For the sword's hilt was covered in magical briars that could pierce armored gauntlets, the the armour would simply fall off anyone who tried to wear it. Kamien's new arm could bear the thorns easily though, and somehow his command of the blade allowed him to wear the armour as well. Thus did Wilheim deem Kamien the new Knight of Briars, both in reward for his ability to weild the armamants and his bravery in defending the city, and charged him with discovering the fate of his predecessor. We were overjoyed to be reunited with our friend, but it was a bittersweet moment still. For we had finally received word from Johan, our commander, who congratulated our victories but asked us to meet him in the kingdom of Stolzreich as we continued our campaign against the vile Pale Queen. Thus did we finally depart Dornstadt, the Kingdom of Briars, and a place I know I certainly came to regard as a second home. Maybe after all this is over, I can retire there, and live out my days as a rich old hermit, letting others strum their lute's for a change... We bid our sad farewells, to the King and Queen, to Jack Nimble, and Brummig, our dear friend, who believed his role fulfilled in our party and wished to stay behind, to catch up with his brother and help rebuild the kingdom. However, Johan's summons would have to wait, for Grumpuddle was determined to fulfil a different task. According to him, Kolobok was not necessarily dead. Apparently, in the past Kolobok's soul would travel back to the oven he was originally cooked in if his physical body was ever destroyed. Grumpuddle could feel his friend's presence, and his location was not far out of our way. However, Kolobok had always spoken in hushed whispers of the Baker's that had created him. Kolobok was indeed a mighty warrior, a well travelled fellow who had no doubt seen unnamable beasts and terrors in the forests of Avalon. His fear of the Baker's did not bode well.

Grumpuddle led us on to our friend's rescue, and on our journey we came across many strange sights. The forest around us was unnervingly empty and quiet, but when finally we did come across signs of life, they were far from anything we expected. A Gingerbread Elk bobbed its way towards us, sniffing and snorting, staring at us innocently with gum drop eyes. Gingerbread Birds settled in trees, and Gingerbread Rabbits scurried past, sent running by Gingerbread Foxes on the prowl. We were greatly puzzled by these sights, but soon such things fled our minds, for a ways down the path we spied two strange figures. Large and lumbering, the Gingerbread fellows we spotted looked of similar make to Kolobok, save for the strange lack of any facial features. We became embattled with the fellows briefly, but Piknik and Thumbelina used their magicks to calm the poor brutes, hoping to discover their purpose and perhaps clues to Kolobok's whereabouts. With extra icing carried in Grumpuddle's sadle (in case of emergencies) we drew a mouth on one of the brutes and began to question him. He led us back to his home, the Farmlands, home of the strange Bakers. Druidic runes and symbols littered that odd, ramshackle place. More of Kolobok's faceless brothers wandered the grounds, staves in hand, guarding Gingerbread Chicken coups and patrolling the gardens. As we spied the land in front of us, we did finally discover Kolobok's whereabouts: giving the Gingerbread Ox a break, poor Kolobok and another one of his brothers (noticeably thinner, and curiously having a face like Kolobok) was plowing the fields. Our group was fractured, arguing over how to go about our friend's rescue. Many plans went in motion simultaneously, and the Farmlands descended into chaos. Thumbelina instantly teleported to Kolobok's position, asking him what she could do to help. Kolobok (never a subtle fellow) was emboldened by his friend's presence, and threw the plow at his brother, knocked over the Ginger Bread Ox, and literally tried to just run away. He got about, oh, ten, maybe twelve feet, before the guards surrounded him and beat him with their staves. The rest of our group jumped to send their aid, but I must admit, the rescue was just a mess. Mayhaps we were a bit rusty after our respite in Dornstadt. Carrabosse had taken a lot out of us after all. I'm reasonably sure that half of us had concussions. I truly couldn't tell you how we did it, but Kolobok was returned to our ranks and reunited with Grumpuddle, a mess of bungling Gingerbread Guards and demolished barrels, bushels and vegetables left in our wake. It was around this time though that we realized we were missing Piknik, who had trotted up to the Baker's house in order to give the couple a stern talking to. We rushed up the hill to stop the poor fool, but alas we were too late. We crammed inside the small cabin just as Piknik began his lecture, but Kolobok's father proved an equally diseased mind, and a strange debate ensued. Enraged at our intrusion on their property and Kolobok's repeated attempts at escape, the couple attacked us, and with a crack of a strange golden whip, Kolobok's father summoned several guards to their side. Kolobok had been greatly distressed at the Farmland's state. Things had changed greatly since his last escape, and his brothers were just as much a surprise to him as they were to us. How could his parents' powers have increased so drastically since last he saw them? Kolobok's mother was the first to fall in our battle and, deeply grieved, his father rushed to her side as she fell. Wounded himself, they fell into a great bubbling vat of Gingerbread mix. But alas, this was not the end of our troubles. For out of the churning ooze they burst forth as a terrible conglomerate beast. One head a malformed chariacture of Kolobok's father, the other the melted visage of his mother, the beast lumbered forth, candy cane scythe in hand and calling for Kolobok's blood. After a hefty struggle the beast was defeated, but Kolobok was greatly disturbed. For all their flaws they were still his parents. It was then that we were introduced to Soren, Kolobok's thin brother (who bore him no malice for the plow diversion thankfully). It was he who solved the many mysteries of the Farmlands for us: the Baker's powers had been enhanced by a strange book, a black tome stolen from Czernobog's library. For the book was a compendium of ancient alchemic lore and recipe's, having been confiscated by the Dark Lord's agents for its heathen contents. The book was apparently a gift to the Bakers from a mysterious hooded figure, along with the golden whip that controlled the guards. Soren then tossed the whip into the vat of Gingerbread mix, watching as it melted away. With the whip gone, Kolobok's brothers were free of its spell. We then ran about the place, using Grumpuddle's extra icing to give the guards faces for the first time. As the eldest, Kolobok held authority over the Farmlands, a responsibility he passed on to Soren. Though his parents were no more, Kolobok now had a legion of brothers he could come home to, all which cheered his name as we took our leave for Stolzreich...

The Wrath of Carrabosse

Journal, Eleventh Entry

Carrabosse, the Demon Fey

Oh, that long dreaded day... After our victory at Port Varjo, we thought the majority of our troubles
behind us. But even as we celebrated, troubles beset the kingdom. For there were rumors that dwarven soldiers had again been seen in the land, making their way dangerously close to the capital, and there was talk of workers disappearing in the Undercity. Surely, Rumplestiltskin had not guessed the extent of our ruse? Again our forces were split, but there was some good news that morning. The Forest Spirits had come to our aid once again, their friendship having been secured upon our defense of Betto. Most of our group made preparations with the troops and forest spirits while Kala and Thumbelina journeyed into the Undercity. I feared for Kala in those hours: for Eisengrahm, Rumplestiltskin's former slave, revealed many things to Kala about their origins. It would seem Kala, Reynard, Eisengrahm and their people had been created, experiments of a sort, crafted by great magical powers the likes of which we had yet to discover. Kala entered the Undercity with a heavy heart, heavier than any of us knew... Their preparations complete, the rest of our party held firm as the enemy swiftly approached (I of course was standing ready in the throne room by this time). A fierce battle raged as the Dwarven soldiers finally crested the hills, but this was but trite compared to the horrors of the Undercity. For in that dank place Kala and Thumbelina made a disturbing discovery: Green Men, Goblins, Satyrs and all manner of terrible agents of the Unseelie Court had tunneled in and made a terrible fort in the roots of the City of Brambles, and their lieutenant, a horrid Green Hag atop a terrible blind serpent, was rallying her troops to burst forth and spill out into the city streets. Through their magicks, the duo was able to thin the ranks of these dreaded creatures, but not before the Hag and her steed burst screaming onto the surface, calling for the blood of every citizen of Dornstadt. Kala and Thumbelina made their way into the fray, but not before Thumbelina noticed a strange yearning, a psychic sensation tugging at her with panicked urgency. For the magic vines that covered the city seemed to be reaching out to her, calling, desiring only to protect their city. But what was Thumbelina to do? The chaotic battle that filled the streets took precedent over such thoughts, and my friends fought valiantly to hold back the wave of death slowly covering the city. But the Hag still stood, and her raving mount retched poison and tore viciously at everything in its path. It was then that Tom Thumb arrived, our diminuitive friend from the tavern, whose connection to Thumbelina was still a mystery. Having felt the pull from the vines as well, Tom Thumb had sought out his counterpart, and despite his fears he believed they needed to grasp her petal once again. Even from the castle I was nearly blinded by the great green flash of eldritch energy that showered the city at the strange, glorious moment. For the old vines, sensing the nascent power in the two curious creatures, reached out with strength renewed and over took the duo, and all our friends who stood nearby. I am told it was a dreamlike experience: there was a moment of darkness followed by a sensation of lifting fog. With eyes that were one but many, my friends looked about at the strangely diminutive city. With great green fists made of coiling thorny, sinew and massive feet that jabbed into the ground, digging under the cobble stone streets, searching for sweet soil and nutrition, the great plant thing that was once my friends charged at the serpent (there. that "turning into Plant Monsters" thing ought to be cleared up now). Thumbelina has since described the experience as a marvelous fantasy, while Kolobok found it unnerving and strenuous. Kamien, who had stood a ways off and had not become enjoined in the great plant beast, simply said "It looked gross." With this strange new found power my friends fought valiantly against the Hag and her pet, and when the two finally shrieked out in death, we thought the day had been won. But alas, this was only a prelude of the horrors to come. For a great dark cloud crossed the sky, and our hearts went cold as we heard the cry of a legion of wolves. The gates were thrust down and a platoon of elite Dwarven Soldiers burst through, led by Rumplestiltskin, his old mount replaced by a mere horse. The cunning devil must have indeed discovered our ruse for what it was, and if that was true, the day could not end well. Uncountable wolfshades raced down the walls into the city, and their leader, the Terrible Wolf himself walked freely amongst his pack. And finally, in that moment of unrivaled horror, we heard the shriek of the demon faerie. With great wings of shadow, she crushed the defensive wall in her wicked dragon form, and with a great roar she destroyed my friends plant body, and covered many houses in flame. At the castle, Dwarven soldiers clashed with royal guards as I stood at the ready. I confess now, in that moment I committed the greatest sin of my vocation: in my despair I threw my lute down, and declared there could be no songs worth singing on that bloody, ruinous day. Taking a dagger from my boot, I abandoned my station at the King and Queen's side, and plunged at a Dwarf soldier, howling and stabbing at his throat, believing this to be the end of my tale. It was not until I saw those dark wings swiftly approaching that I returned to my senses, and leaving the fray I rushed to the Royal Family, pleading with them to flee this sad scene to live another day. But Carrabosse was upon us. The guards were no match. I watched as their bodies were ripped and torn, some had no time even to scream before she was upon them. Clutching the Queen's hand and begging their forgiveness, I thought us dead and ushered to heaven when we found ourselves in that warm, bright manor. For Reynard had returned, and ushered us into his abode, safe from danger. It was here that I was reunited with my friends, save Kala, who had been caught up by Wolfshades before he could be rescued. We feared for his safety, but there were greater matters afoot. Reynard wished to help us, and thus did he take us before his Superior, King Noble, a great Lion who ruled justly through the might of his magicks and strength. Making our case, we pleaded for him to aid us, knowing full well we were asking him to sacrifice the security of secrecy for his people. Promising to grant his people safe harbor in Dornstadt should it be saved, he agreed to our terms, and gladly did we return to Reynard's war room to discuss the rescue of our friend. Reynard kept a magic map, one that could find Kala's location in the city, and detect the Wolfshade patrols where they stalked. With this knowledge, we each burst forth from a different door surrounding our friends location, thanks to Reynard's magic house. In that instant, Reynard's folk made use of their own houses, leading patrols of surviving soldiers and forest spirits in surprise attacks from every door in the city. Once our plan was in motion, we found ourselves in a vicious battle, for not only were we greatly outnumbered by Wolfshades, but their Master was finally among them. Having faced only portions of his strength before, nothing could prepare us for his might made apparent before us. With dread magicks he battered our crew for long hours into the night, but finally he staggered as his pets were defeated and his body was wrought with fatigue. But in that victory lay the most damnable tragedy of all, for the Wolf gave up his physical form, wishing to heal, and so passed his remaining strength to his faithful servant: Kala, the Wolf's trusted spy, a secret traitor to us all along. In that tragic battle, Kolobok was struck down. I watched as his body crumbled, and as Grumpuddle weeped beside him. This was not a wise choice for Kala. For Grumpuddle's power was greatly hindered in his constant attempts to keep Kolobok whole. No longer shouldering this responsibility, Grumpuddle revealed once again his dreaded true form, and growing like a horrid, living mountain, Grumpuddle swallowed Kala whole, dragging his soul deep down into a cavernous abyss. Despite our grief over two lost friends, we pushed on into the throne room, to finally face the evil that had long plagued Dornstadt, and to finish the battle once and for all. It was then that we were reunited with Betto, who had fought with the forest spirits till then, but sensing our grief he joined us to lend us his magical strengths. Carrabosse sat upon a throne of thorns. Green flames burned in the lanterns. And the floor was wrought with the broken and bloodied bodies of the royal guard. At her side stood Rumplestiltskin, who had taken back the Altar of Oaths. We spared them few words before we made our attack. Kamien threw a dagger into the Altar, wishing to finally claim vengeance for Varjo. The rest of us focused our attack on Carrabosse. The hall rang with the sounds of our battle. Sword beat against sword as Rumplestiltskin and Kamien dueled. And Carrabosse sent volley after volley of heathen magic our way. Rumplestiltskin was finally struck down, and coming forth from a spectral whirlwind emanating from the Altar, a hooded ghost grabbed him round the throat. Dragging Rumplestiltskin screaming into the void, Varjo laughed and threw off his hood. Our friend had been avenged. But the battle raged on, and Carrabosse, sensing the danger and feeling cornered, once again took on her dragon form. It was then that Betto met his end, throwing all of his strength at the demon fey, and giving us a fighting chance. In the end, Kamien landed the killing blow, encompassed in flame and on the verge of consciousness. The day had been won, but at terrible cost. Dornstadt was safe, but the Pale Queen, our true foe, still lived. The war was far from over...