Games Logs

Jayce, Wilrick, and Jeff stand amid the wreckage of bones. Other skeleton warriors in the garrison prepare to attack.  Then, something em

Jeremiah finds himself still shackled to the basement wall, the cold stone at his back, the smell of brimstone faint but persistent in the a

The cellar of the Ship’s Prow smells of brimstone and mildew. The boarded door is still holding — barely — and from behind it, the voice of

The party faces a choice: pay one scrip for a bunk in the dormitory, or sleep outside in the freezing Stygian air. Most of them pay. Those who don't spend the night on the ice, with the exception of Lynx, suffer for it. Morning finds them exhausted. Some nights in Hell are like that. At dawn, one of the sled's hellhounds pads up to Krasnyy with a leather pouch hanging beneath its chin. Inside: a letter from Proctor Azurath. He has taken the liberty of arranging transport t

The next day, the group decides they need to do a little more shopping before they leave for the Caves of Lost Things. Avoiding the Infernal

A functionary — one of a nameless army of administrative devils that the City of Tantlin seems to have — summons the group and delivers their assignment with the brisk inefficiency. The party is to travel to the Cave of Lost Things and retrieve an item. Their transport: a dog sled, paid for by the group and added to their debt, will be drawn by hellhounds. Six will be tethered to their transport, and one — the lead — will be running free as a guide for the sled dogs and guard

The battle in the cemetery goes on. Viktor is finally atop the mausoleum that Jayce has just leapt down from, and frustrated to have missed him. The wizard searches, squinting at the rooftop in the gloom, for anything to throw at the fleeing Jayce. He only comes up with a large acorn. Winding up, Viktor lets it fly into the darkness. The sizeable nut catches Jayce on the back of the head, startling but not injuring him. As he cranes his head around to see where the nut cam

Worried that the bandits will attack, Jeff watches two of them closely. One uses curious hand signals to ask a question of the second rogue:

The bonfire tips into the seat just vacated by Lynx, who has fallen atop Nesquo in a tangle of limbs. Nesquo’s pack bursts open on impact,

A gathering storm threatens as the eight find their way to the City of the Dead at sunset. The sky churns gray and purple above the ancient

The coach lurches forward and the journey begins. Soon after, the purple tiefling leans to one side against the window and closes his eyes.

Later, when they compare recollections about the gathering on that first day—before the funeral but after the meeting with the half-vampire

The eight adventures mill around the coach depot, beneath the faded wooden sign, “Wallard & Son Transit and Cargo.” They have arrived in sin

Istyher and Astrid, closest to the open door, hear what sounds like several sets of feet tapping across stone. Unable to contain her

The group hear the grinding of stone on stone as the guardian statue’s eyes roll to find Three, dancing atop the altar that stands before it

“I said, that’s a shambling mound!” shouts Nesquo. “There’s no way we can defeat it. It’s too strong!” All except Fuzzy. The wizard, spotting a small brook that runs through the underbrush near the creature casts Shape Water, lifting a five-foot cube of water from the stream. He then manipulates it to hover over the prone creature, thrashing in the shallow hole. Fuzzy allows the block of ice to drop. The squelch is followed by a splat of foul smelling vegetation onto

Eight strangers from different walks of life up and down the Sword Coast find themselves presented with identical letters conscripting them into Her Majesty’s militia. Beneath the Queen’s red and yellow crest, the spade and dagger, each of the similar letters read: Greetings, Citizen! You are commanded to present yourself at the 7th hour of the 28th day of Highsun to the royal airship Windchaser, which will be moored at the Goldmeadow Airfield in Waterdeep’s Castle Ward, ab