Doug Pirko (waiwode) wrote in roleplayers,
Doug Pirko

Session Update 02 Nov

So there we were...

Last session wasn't really a session, it was a social occasion. That was okay but I didn't want a repeat. We buckled down pretty quickly.

The troupe left Abrahim in the city of Clive with a passle of horsies. Following the north road they had a variety of "mundane" encounters as traffic increased closer to Hartwood. The more notable encounters:

The mysterious dead man, a noble murder victim, left them with a clue, a cloak-pin shaped like a silver hand and a name: Sir Merrin.

Crazy Bishop Sansum and his Ox-team Crusade informed them that their souls lay in the balance, and if they didn't help him drag all the menhirs in England into the sea they'd all burn in Hell. Really, he just wanted the horses.

In the Commons of Hartwood a misunderstanding turned deadly, and thugs and ne'er-do-wells were revealed to be bandits. One of the characters earned his "trouble-causer" reputation there, and Brother Seamus tried vainly to save lives in the aftermath.

A clue was found. A fragment of a note, the noon meeting it hinted at had come and gone days ago, but it hooked the characters into attending a time and place.

The first day of tournament came: Our red-handed trouble-causer entered the Crossbow lists. He had a couple of lucky shots, but in the end was defeated by a Flemish Mercenary.

Meanwhile the other two characters showed up in the Headsman's Glade, not sure what they would see. They met Baron Fenmark of Hartwood and his knights, getting some good practice jousts in. The characters got some good geographic and political "lay of the land" from the Baron in a short conversation, and assurances they'd attend the Baronial Feast Saturday. (Rank hath advantages).

That night... ...raiders riding through camp, tossing torches and hewing left and right!? Unheard of! Amidst the fire and the chaos the characters handled themselves well, and the "fighters" left Brother Seamus and his makeshift surgery behind to give chase.

After years of tracking in the stoney deserts of the Middle East the lush, damp fields of England leave sign like signal fires. Soon the characters and a band of other knights and men-at-arms who joined the chase came to a forest cave.

After having negotiated past a dozen frenzied, panicked horses, they entered the inner chamber: to witness the end results of a slaughter that made the Rape of Jerusalem look like a sunny afternoon stroll through pleasant gardens.

Standing amidst the ruin was a dark insectile thing. Declaring it's purpose done in croaking, buzzing Latin it fled into the night, leaving the characters to shake off the paralysis of fear.

And there we ended it.

Great session? I don't think so. Good session? Yes, and the feedback was positive, which helps. Because I like my attaboys.

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