Author Topic: Pirates of Lemaria - A Norbayne Campaign Log  (Read 2377 times)


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Pirates of Lemaria - A Norbayne Campaign Log
« on: October 12, 2016, 03:28:07 AM »
Hey guys,

Just thought I would start posting up all our side-sessions seeing as I had a little time.

This one is just a solo game, played by my little brother, who shall be referred to as Scotticus. He wanted to play a nautical-themed game, with pirates and stuff. I do feel this decision may have been influenced by him playing a lot of Assassin's Creed: Black Flag prior to pitching the game.

Nevertheless, this is his character.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

So there you have it, Martialis Ironlaw. Join me for a tale of pirates, gold, magic and plunder in the Lemarian archipelago.

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Re: Pirates of Lemaria - A Norbayne Campaign Log
« Reply #1 on: October 12, 2016, 03:29:01 AM »

Session 1.1: The Sparrow on the Ocean

We begin this story onboard the Sparrow, a quick, hardy vessel which hails from the Southland kingdom of Dorwine. A small warship which has been repurposed for mercantile endeavours, the Sparrow is the perfect vessel for trading with the Sothbayne Roanfaille, the cities on the northern coasts and the nomadic clansmen further south.

However, not all is well onboard the Sparrow. The captain, second son of an influential lord of Dorwine, is an inexperienced fool. To make matters worse, he does not know it and regularly sees fit to ignore the sound advice he is given, make rash decisions and otherwise behave like a spoilt prat.

That kind of behaviour can be dangerous on a ship, doubly so in these waters, for the Sothbayne coast is regularly plagued with pirates.

Enter Martialis Ironlaw, a Feartarbh mercenary from Eldervine, a small town in the Norbayne Midlands. Wanderlust drove him south and the lure of silver drew him into service as a mercenary guard upon the Sparrow.

The Sparrow, having traded with the Roanfaille clans south of the Smok-zᶒby, was now returning to Dorwine and Martialis found himself coming up from below decks. The sun is hot, the sky clear above and the water a deep turquoise, but in the distance, thunderheads can be seen in the sky, the clouds dark and promising a heavy squall.

He spies Roqué Diavolo, the Sparrow's master-at-arms struggling with the fore-ballista and hurries to his assistance.
"Thank you friend. We need to get these thoroughly secured before the storm hits." - Roqué, jerking his head towards the dark horizon.
Together, the two of them securely lash the port-side fore-ballista and hurry to the other side. However, just as they are securing it, a rogue swell hits the ship and it tilts. Roqué slips and Martialis loses his grip on the weapon.
There is a horrific snapping sound as the ballista crashes down on its side, and critically, Roqué's shin.
The Feartarbh struggles to lift the weapon as a few other sailors rush over to drag their pinned master-at-arms free, but the damage is done. His leg is shattered.

The bosun arrives, belaying pin in hand and delegates tasks. And so the ballista is safely secured by a handful of sailors and Martialis helps the dazed Roqué down below decks to find Eyvind, the ship's surgeon.

He finds him in a candle-lit room, sitting at a wooden desk reading a book. The old, greying man looks up and sees the ashen-faced Roqué and swiftly clears off the desk.
"Get him up here so I can take a look then lad." - Eyvind.
The surgeon is already preparing his equipment, having decided that the leg can be saved.
"I will need some boiling water though, so quick, find the quartermaster! This man's leg depends upon your swiftness!" - Eyvind.
Martialis takes off at a run.

He finds the quartermaster, Edgar, sitting at a small wooden table with a handful of other men playing a card game.
"Quartermaster, the master-at-arms requires aid. I have been sent for boiling water by the surgeon." - Martialis, very wooden. He is still not entirely comfortable with his ship-mates.
" Roqué is hurt? What happened to him?" - Edgar, concerned.
"Yes, we were securing the ballistae and one came down on his leg." - Martialis, describing the freak incident.
"Very well, I will see to it at once. I'll have one of the runners take it to him." - Edgar, stroking his short brown beard.
The Feartarbh merely nods back and heads up to the top deck.

"Mercenary! Come here!" - The captain, Adhemar of Pointier. The man is barely twenty summers old, his face framed by long black hair and a straggly beard.
"Make yourself useful onboard. We cannot afford to have men idling about with a storm coming in. Tie down everything you can find and otherwise help prepare for this storm." - Adhemar, to Martialis who nods his acquiescence and finds tasks to keep himself busy.
He notices that Adhemar continues to stand by the wheel, making no attempt to aid his men in preparing for the storm.

The next few hours see no more dangerous occurrences, however the water becomes rougher and the sky darker. Thunder rolls and lightning flashes in the distance. Eventually, a light rain drifts down from above.

And then suddenly, the Sparrow is engulfed in a dark, watery hell.

Waves smash against the hull and over the railing, washing the legs of men out from under them. The ballistae, well secured, do not shift despite the immense forces the ship is weathering. Lightning cracks overhead and then the fore-mast is cracking itself, falling port-side through the railing and into the churning water. Several men are caught in the rigging and struggle to free themselves, but the mast must be cleared.

Martialis takes up a boarding axe from where it was stored against the gunwale and starts to hack away at the fallen mast, clearing it from the ship. Breathing heavily, he stands at the railing and watches it drift into the water. And then he spots something, an arm waving. There is a man, clinging to a floating piece of wood, screaming and waving his arm. He must have been dragged overboard by the mast.

Throwing the axe aside, Martialis dives in after the man, intent upon saving him, but the waves are too strong and though he fights valiantly, the Feartarbh is unable to reach the man before he loses his grip and drowns.

Martialis is helped back on deck, coughing up seawater. He is clapped on the shoulder by one of the weary sailors but otherwise he is left alone.

The storm abates fairly shortly, but it has done its damage. Crabbing along now, the captain informs the crew of a change in heading. He intends to keelhaul on one of the southern isles of the Lemarian archipelago to repair the ship.
"But we're crabbing sir. That place is infested with corsairs. There's no way we'll outrun them." - The bosun, 'Red' Ronnet.
"I'm the captain, am I not? And by the power vested in me by my father, Lord Pointier, who you all work for, I say we go there." - Captain Adhemar, his voice rising but only sounding more pathetic.
The captain then retreats to his cabin.
"You heard the man! Change course!" - 'Red' Ronnet.
Wet and hungry, Martialis heads below to change his wet clothes and grab a bite to eat from the stores.

Sailing north-east is uneventful for the most part, the skies clearing up and the water returning to a more wholesome colour now with the returning sun.
"Land ho!" - The lookout from up in his crow's nest.
And he is right. It is not long before the gray outcrop of hard rock of the southernmost Lemarian isle is visible to all on-deck.
The sun is just dipping into the horizon by the time the next island is visible from the Sparrow. And by then, the struggling ship has company.

To the south is a small pinnace, single mast and swarming with men. To the north, just rounding the isle is a second larger ship, again with men crawling all over it. Both ships are flying dull red flags, unadorned.
The cry goes up and the alarm is called, the sailors onboard the Sparrow rushing to quarters, hampered by the lack of their master-at-arms who is still recovering from his surgery.
"Take up arms men!" - 'Red' Ronnet, taking charge in Roqué's absence.
"Belay that! Full sail on the last mast and put out the oars! We'll row in to the beach and make a stand there!" - Adhemar, bursting through the doors of his cabin, accoutred as a knight of his father's realm, in plate and chain with a longsword at his belt and a large kite shield on his arm.
'Red' rolls his eyes.
"Sir, they'll just swarm us on the beach. At least we can prevent some of their numerical advantage onboard." - 'Red' Ronnet, sweeping a hand out to encompass the ship.
"Who's the captain bosun!? Do as I command or I will kill you myself!" - Adhemar, ranting and drawing his sword.
"As the captain says! Full sail, and on to the beach!" - 'Red' Ronnet.

The mercenaries, of which there are a few, ready themselves for conflict. One man, a Roanfaille draws his scimitar and holds a small steel round shield in his off-hand. Another, a Dwergar stands with a hatchet in one hand, a wooden round shield in the other. On his chest, stuck through a leather belt, three strange contraptions, metal tubes with wooden handles. Martialis just draws his greatsword.

The oncoming pirates swiftly catch up to the Sparrow, and as they do so send a salvo of heavy ballista shots at the merchant vessel. Of the bolts however, only one hits, punching a hole just above the waterline.
"Fill that breach men!" - 'Red' Ronnet, who knows that a breach like that can easily be forgotten after the battle and is best taken care of now.

The smaller pinnace soon draws alongside the Sparrow and men start to clamber aboard, swinging on ropes, clambering aboard on lines and those brave few who dive into the water and then climb up the sides of the ship.

Martialis finds himself facing two men at once, who warily start to approach him, each wearing ragged, threadbare clothing and holding a short, heavy sabre each. With a roar, he slams into both of them, smashing his horns into the first and his heavy greatsword into the second's leg. Reeling, their attempts to strike back are feeble, but they are able to avoid the hulking Feartarbh's attacks themselves.

Then the second ship draws alongside the Sparrow and more men clamber aboard. A third makes for Martialis and drives his sabre deep into the meat of the Feartarbh's right arms. Enraged, Martialis strikes back, smashing his foe in the head with the flat of his blade before trading a few blows with his original opponents, eventually cleaving the head from one man's shoulders and bullrushing the other off the ship entirely. Angered by this assault, he drives his sword through the unconscious man's chest and throws the corpse overboard.

Around him, the rest of the crew have actually fared quite well. Most have taken some kind of wound in the fighting, but there are only a few casualties. The pirates make for the pinnace and flee, several of them carrying heavy chests.
"They've taken all the silver, damn them!" - A voice from below decks, which leads to furious ranting from the rest of the crew. That was all they had to show for the last year's work, sailing around the southern parts of the world, and now it is all gone.
"The captain went down too." - A bloodied crewman, carrying his arm. "They threw him in the water and he went down like a rock."
There is a grim laugh at the fate of their captain.
"So now what lads? Here we are, far from home with nothing to show for it." - 'Red' Ronnet.
"Aye, and if we be taking this ship back to Dorwine we'll be hanged as traitors and mutineers, mark my words." - Janus, an old Roanfaille sailor.
"So what then? Do we take to pirating?" - 'Red' Ronnet, scoffing.
"Why not?" - Edgar, wiping his brow and leaning on his sword.
"Who runs for captain!?" - Janus, putting up the call.
In the end, the majority of voices call for 'Red' and Edgar, however a small but vocal minority suggests Martialis, for whatever reason.

Then comes the voting, where each man puts forward his mark next to the name of the man they would have as captain. Edgar's supporters are the most numerous and his first order is to make landfall on the island so that the Sparrow can be repaired.

As Roqué is indisposed, Martialis is appointed the master-at-arms of the new pirate vessel and leads the men ashore, the sailors working together to haul the ship onto the beach.

A fire is lit and a camp is struck, the general consensus being that the new mast can wait until tomorrow. Rum is passed around and drunk very liberally, the sailors enjoying a little peace and quiet after a trying day. Very swiftly, the encampment is asleep, even Martialis who did not drink anything.

In the middle of the night, Martialis is awoken by a loud howling shriek from the jungle. He does not know what it could be, but he does his best to ignore it. It is an unearthly sound, and he doesn't find it easy, but eventually he does manage to get back to sleep.

After a restless night, Martialis is one of the first to awaken in the morning. Most of the encampment is still sleeping off the hangovers from last night's drinking, but instantly the Feartarbh notices that not all is well. A few men are missing. And on the northern side of the camp, there are what appears to be drag marks through the sand.

Gathering up a group of mercenaries and sailors, waking them from their slumber, Martialis heads a group of almost twenty men into the jungle, but swiftly realises that he is out of his depth as a tracker. Luckily, Garren, the lookout with his short bow, turns his keen eyes to the task.
"I was a poacher before I was a sailor ye see." - Garren, grinning.
The whipcord thin man leads them through the undergrowth. Around them, the air is buzzing with insects and the occasional bird call trills in the canopy above.

They eventually come to a crossroads and Garren starts down the right hand path before frowning and turning back. He starts down the left and then frowns once more.
"I'm sorry sir, but I can't find no signs of passage 'ere." - Garren, frowning and scanning the ground for something, anything at all.
Martialis takes a moment before just making a random choice.
"We go left then." - Martialis.
Behind their fearless master-at-arms, the men troop along.

After some time following the winding game trail, they come upon an unsettling sight. Ahead is a massive clearing with several stone buildings. Four buildings before them, not large and ahead, a massive, step-sided pyramid. All made of blocks of grey stone.

Oh, and they are standing on the edge of a substantial sheer cliff.

Eyes flashing with greed, the sailors begin to tie lengths of rope together to create lengths which will reach the bottom of the cliff. They have enough rope for three such lengths and tie the ends to tree trunks at the top of the cliff. The sailors then abseil down the cliff-face, without incident until the last man on the third line, which unfortunately slips loose from the tree while he is still almost ten feet from the ground. He lands awkwardly with an ugly snap and it quickly deduced that his arm is broken.

A few men see to him, setting a splint to the arms and putting it in a sling while the others disperse through the smaller structures looking for loot.

What they find are chests filled with bronze coins which are hoisted to the top of the cliff by a few men who re-rig the ropes as a primitive pulley. They will be shared throughout the entirety of the crew later.

Martialis meanwhile approaches the steps leading to the very top of the pyramid. He climbs them, greatsword in hand and reaches the top, a small sheltered room with a truly massive stone chest, carved with images.

He peers closer at the images and sees the carvings of humanoid figures dancing around the chest. Then there is one dancer with a curved blade who begins to strike down the other dancers one by one until he is the only one left. The figure then takes the blade and uses it like a key on the chest, which opens. The carved figure dances with joy, but behind him always is a faint shadow, a hooded figure, always behind him.

Martialis shivers and then turns away, thinking to find a key. He searches around the pyramid, looking for a way inside and eventually finds a massive stone flag embedded in the ground at the rear of the structure. Calling some of the sailors over, they struggle with the stone block and eventually lift it from a dark hole, carved into the rock.

Martialis squeezes his bulky frame down first, and he is followed into the pitch darkness by a handful of sailors, a few of whom produce torches from packs and light them. They then troop, single file down a long, carven passageway which slopes upwards. After some time, the ground beneath them levels out and the walls are no longer blank stone but now intricate carvings, characters and symbols the meaning of which is completely unknown.

They reach a dead-end, having found nothing along the passageway which would be worth taking and are left with a number of questions regarding the reason for this structure's existence. Martialis decides to head back out of the pyramid and they retrace their path back to their way out. On the way, the Feartarbh notices a small passageway to his left which he did not see before. He walks down it and finds a room, bare stone save for the unadorned altar lying in the centre. Upon the altar lies a curved, bronze blade, the hilt crafted of bone and wrapped in old leather.

He takes up the blade and fells an inexplicable urge to murder everyone in the room with him. Feeling it trying to exert its will upon him, he promptly opens his backpack and drops it inside. He hears a dull thud and the dagger is lying upon the dust-covered floor. He checks his bag and there is a neat tear in the bottom of it which the knife must have fallen through. The Feartarbh is certain that it was not there before, but tries to drop the blade in again, this time hilt first, but as soon as it leaves his fingers, the blade saws through the leather of the pack and the dagger is once again lying on the floor.

Unnerved, Martialis turns to leave.
"We can't just leave it there!" - Sailor, rushing forward to pick it up.
"Leave it be!" - Martialis, cowing the man into submission.
There is a strained moment where the man reaches towards it and in the uncertain torchlight, it almost appears as if the blade is jumping towards the man's hand, but eventually he turns away and the men file out into the passage and then up and out of the hole.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up
Pretty enjoyable first session. Scott really got through a lot of material and grasped the mechanics of gameplay pretty well. He's still a bit awkward about interacting with NPC's, but that's fair enough as heaps of people are like that.

Anyway, that'll do for now. Hopefully we'll get to play another session soon.

« Last Edit: October 12, 2016, 03:39:17 AM by Phoenixguard09 »
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Re: Pirates of Lemaria - A Norbayne Campaign Log
« Reply #2 on: October 12, 2016, 03:35:10 AM »

Session 1.2: Who Rescues the Rescue Party?

"Do they really exist Kyrzcheck?" the boy asked, eyes wide as he listened to the story with the rest of the clan's youth around the fire.
"The polud-malpa? Oh yes, they exist alright. Don't go out into the jungles at night lad or they'll take you to their old stone cities and rip your heart out good and proper." - Kyrzchek Trwalymaska, the story-man of the Sea-Spears Clan, and a young Cyprian Staloslona

Welcome to Session 1.2 of Pirates of Lemaria.

Martialis gathers his pirates and they retreat up the cliffs, safely transporting the chests of coins and their broken armed comrade. Martialis stops to relieve himself shortly before organising his party. Four chests of coin are gathered up and two men are detailed to each chest to take them to The Sparrow. Martialis then gathers his remaining twelve companions, including Garren, and head down the other path when they come to it.

The ex-poacher takes point and walks onwards while scanning the ground. The path is long and winding and the men start to grow just slightly edgier with every passing minute. Just as Martialis is about to walk, Garren holds out a hand.
“Wait. Don’t take another step.” – Garren, hand on Martialis’ shoulder.
On the ground before him, stretching across the path is a thin strand of silk. The ex-poacher follows the strand along the ground but it disappears up in the canopy of a tree. He gives a rueful grin.
“I’d say it’s a trap sir. Keep going?” –Garren, to Martialis.
The Feartarbh just nods in response and the entire party step gingerly over the thin line.

Martialis thinks and realises that the silk is probably harvested from the silkwalkers which inhabit this region. Large, arboreal reptiles which spin lines of silk to create highways through the canopy. He knows they are good eating, and that many peoples through the Lemarian archipelago farm them for their silk.

Almost a minute of walking later and Garren speaks again.
“See this here? Our friends were dragged this way, I’d bet my life on it.” – Garren, pointing to a scuff-mark on the ground.
They continue on.

All of a sudden, the ground beneath Garren and Martialis gives way. With cat-like agility the ex-poacher grabs hold of the edge of the revealed pit as he falls and manages to stop himself from falling. Martialis meanwhile lands heavily, one of the wooden stakes littering the bottom of the pit punching through his upper left arm. The Feartarbh is lucky, having landed in a relatively clear spot. Garren and a few more pirates clamber down and with knives in hand, saw through the wooden stake and then lift the punctured arm away. Grimacing in agony, Martialis hauls himself out of the pit, arms straining with the effort and both arms bleeding profusely from the injuries taken, the stake today and the sword wound yesterday.

Before moving on, another pirate comes forward and ties a length of cloth around Martialis’ arm, staunching the bleeding.

Continuing onward, Martialis spots another line of silk across the ground and stops Garren just before the tracker steps on it. Nodding his thanks, he steps over it, as does the rest of the party.

Rounding a bend in the path, the group of pirates come upon a huge clearing in which sits a massive stone city, built in the same fashion as the other structure they had found earlier. This settlement however dwarfs the other and the pirates stop and marvel at the sight.

Before them stretches a vast sprawling mass of grey stone buildings, all appearing to be abandoned and worn by time. In the centre of the buildings sits a large step pyramid, similar in design to the one they found earlier, but perhaps smaller in size. A large, rectangular doorway sits carved into the side facing the party, the pitch darkness inside not inviting in the slightest. On the other sides, Martialis thinks he can make out stairways providing easy access to the sheltered room atop the pyramid.

Gathering his men, Martialis leads them towards the darkened tunnel and takes a single step before being greeted by that haunting cry he heard the previous night. It is coming up from underneath the pyramid. Steeling himself, Martialis leads his men into the darkness, a few of them lighting torches before heading in. Everyone draws weapons.

The first thing they notice is that the corridor appears longer than the pyramid appeared from the outside, which immediately starts to confuse them. They also notice that strewn across the ground and shoves up against the bare stone walls are copious amounts of bones, many of which have been gnawed. The further they walk, the more bones there are and the walls go from bare to daubed with mud and presumably blood. Strange looking hands, larger than the average Roanfaille hand with long fingers and small palms are imprinted on the walls. But mainly there are no shapes, only unidentifiable smears.

His men are growing more nervous, hands gripping weapons tightly. And then, from ahead comes that same howl, far louder than before. Martialis and Garren on point can only tell their enemies are short but heavy-set, covered in russet-brown fur and have thick, black leathery skin on their short faces. In their snarling mouths are long, yellowed fangs and in their hands are a variety of primitive wood, bone and stone weapons. A veritable horde of these creatures come rushing down the tunnel towards the pirates, who heft weapons and engage.

The Dwergar mercenary pulls forth one of his metal tubes and points the end of the barrel towards one of the beasts and the end explodes in flame with a loud roar. The creature falls with a red mess of a face. The other sailors and mercenaries take up their weapons and engage.

Martialis engages in a series of strikes with the three beasts which run at him, always managing to interpose his blade between their strikes and his body. Slowly but surely he wears them down, greatsword flashing in the torchlight, severing one of their arms and dropping it to the ground with a screech. One of Garren’s arrows slams into the chest of one of the creatures, which snarls and turns to him, wildly flailing with its bone club. The poacher keeps his cool and puts another arrow into the beast’s throat from point blank range, putting it down.

The last one facing Martialis flails its club into the Feartarbh’s chest but the ferocious strike doesn’t do any real damage. With a roar, Martialis smashes his sword into the beast’s head and pulverises it.

Around him, beasts start to flee down the corridor and the pirates take stock of their situation. Two of their number have fallen, skulls caved in by the vicious strikes of the beasts.

Martialis got a level up here, bringing him up to a Level 3 Warrior.

Before the party moves onward, the Roanfaille mercenary, a man named Cyprian approaches Martialis.

"I know of these creatures. They are the polud-malpa, in my native tongue. Very little is known of them, but the stories say that they cannot be reasoned with. They are just beasts.- Cyprian, wiping the blood off his curved blade.
Martialis simply nods to the man as the pirates gather themselves and then leads them further into the darkness.

The passageway opens into a large stone room. On the far side of the room lie several cages made of bones which have been lashed together, in which the captured men languish. Upon seeing their rescuers they let out a cheer. Several of the polud have gathered in the room too and throw themselves at the pirates with a loud roar, weapons raised.

Martialis finds himself in the melee with one of the beasts which he cleaves apart with his sword. Using the momentum of his swing, he plows into another polud and smashes that one to the ground too. Looking around, he sees Garren on the ground having been overborne by one of the beasts which is even now trying to bite the ex-poacher's face off. With a growl, Martialis slams his horns into the chest of the creature, lifting it off the man and pulverising its ribs.

Garren picks himself up and wipes the blood from his face, muttering his thanks, but Martialis has already moved on, searching for another target. And find one he does.

Stalking towards the Feartarbh is a particularly large polud, carrying a massive greataxe with a stone blade. On the beast's head, it bears a monstrous horned skull, potentially from another Feartarbh. With a great roar it hefts its huge axe at Martialis, who steps slightly to the side and counters with a strike of his own, ripping his blade into the beast's abdomen. It roars in agony and takes up its axe once more, but Martialis turns it aside with a deft parry.

Concentrating hard, the Feartarbh slams his blade into the injury he caused earlier, causing the polud to roar in pain once more, falling to its knees and clutching a bestial paw to the rent in its stomach.
Agonising Strike from Martialis causes a fair bit of Damage and stuns the polud for a round.
Seeing its chieftain in trouble, one of the beasts takes up a stone dagger and leaps onto the Feartarbh's back, wrapping a wiry furred arm around Martialis' throat and slamming the dagger into the meat of his left arm.
Angrily, Martialis tears the new opponent from his back and throws it to the ground before turning back to the injured chieftain before him, thrusting his sword into the beast's guts before turning to face the dagger-wielding polud again. The chieftain is still not dead, however it seems to be slipping into shock as even more dark blood pours from the mangled wound.

Attention focussed on the dagger-wielding beast, Martialis doesn't notice the attack of another beast until it is swinging at him. Instinctively, the Feartarbh steps to the side and avoids the axe of his new enemy. Launching himself forwards once more, Martialis lashes out with his sword and takes the head off the wounded chief.

A deafening scream rises from the throat of every polud in the room and several of them go at the massive Feartarbh, weapons raised and fangs bared. The pirates desperately get between the beasts and Martialis, knowing that his continued survival is likely the only way any of them will leave alive.

Taking a moment to look around, Martialis sees that there's still many polud and that there's not too many pirates left. Cyprian is down, dead or unconscious he cannot tell. The dwarf is still up, explosive tubes spent and now trading blows with three of the beasts with axe and shield. Garren is pinned to the ground, ramming a knife repeatedly into the ribs of the polud above him. The beast does not seem to be feeling it. Several pirates are certainly dead, bodies broken and heads crushed.

The Feartarbh's attention is then taken once more by the two beasts in front of him, one clutching it's dagger, the other it's stone axe. Martialis steps forward, cleaving his blade through the arm of one of the beasts, which leaps back a second too late, clutching it's ruined arm. The other strikes at the Feartarbh with its axe, but it is only a glancing blow. A few strikes later and both polud are felled and Martialis is left breathing heavily and leaning on his sword. Blood streams from several wounds, most significantly the deep gash in his left arm. Around the Feartarbh pirates rush to finish off the last crippled survivors, some freeing the captives from their bone cages.
"Where's the rest of the crew?" - Pirate, as he saws at the ropes holding the bone cage together.
"We're standing in Tarkyn..." - Captive pirate, darkly.
The pirate cutting the ropes looks at the bones cage with an expression of distaste and continues to saw away.

Of the twelve men who followed Martialis, only five are still standing. All of them are bearing various injuries. There are also the captives, including some men who were not originally of The Sparrow. Garren is probably in the best shape, covered in blood, but most of it is not his own. Grimacing, he gets one of the other sailors to wrench one of his fingers back into shape, it having been dislocated in the fighting.

One of the men not of The Sparrow, approaches Martialis.
"You're in charge here I take it? Name's Titas. Thanks for yer help, we're very much in ye debt." - Titas, shaking Martialis' hand.
"Martialis Ironlaw. Tell me, why were you captured and not just killed and eaten?" - Martialis, troubled.
"Ah, I asked meself the same question. Turns out that we was suppos'd to be sacrifices, ye see. I've bin in here for about two weeks as I reckon it. If you put up enough of a fight in the cages when they come to get ye, they go fer easier prey like and leave ye alone. Only works when ye have others in the cage with ye though. Anyway, they take their sacrifices up the steps to the top of this building, tear out the heart and eats it. Most of the body too I'd say, and then use the bones to make them cages. Most of them bones have teeth-marks on 'em." - Titas, in an near incomprehensible thick Roanfaile accent.
As to how I did it, I tried to take stereotypical English sailor and mixed in a bit of eastern European. It came out interesting, but I don't know if I can replicate it. :P

Martialis nods and then begins gathering his men. And then they leg it, going hell for leather out of the tunnel and onto the jungle path. From behind them the pirates can hear more polud screaming after them and it sounds like hundreds more are chasing them through the jungle itself.

"There are traps ahead!" and "Ware the traps!" - Garren and Martialis almost simultaneously. Garren and Martialis pass the first trap without incident, followed by several of the other men, but a group of five hit the trip-wire and are immediately suspended in the air by a thick rope net. One of them is the Dwergar, cursing with rage. The last five men stop before them in shock.
"Get up there and cut them free Garren." - Martialis, to Garren who immediately climbs up and starts sawing away.
The last group of five on the ground run onwards down the path.
Eventually Garren finishes sawing through the rope and the net drops to the ground, the pirates inside groaning with pain. Everyone is safe and uninjured, but it has taken valuable time. The vanguard of the polud is visible coming down the path, and the pirates leg it again.

They avoid the pit-trap with no problems, but from ahead they hear a series of startled yelps. Rounding a bend, the pirates come across the group which ran ahead earlier, riddled with countless poison darts. They never even knew what hit them.

The polud close on their heels, Martialis and his pirates burst out of the jungle and onto the beach.
"Cast off! Cast off! Out onto the water!" - Martialis, to those on the beach.
Captain Westerling starts ordering the men aboard as quickly as they can, getting the ship off the beach and casting ropes into the water for Martialis' party to grab and climb aboard with. The Feartarbh is one of the first of his men aboard, hauling himself up the rope and is helped onto the deck where he just lies down for a moment, his broad chest heaving in the breaths. Several more men manage to make it aboard and Martialis forces himself to stand. The polud are very close to the very last of the pirates, one of them the Dwergar. Seeing their prey escaping, the polud scream and start to hurl their weapons at the fleeing pirates, stone axes and wooden spears pelting the sand around them.  The two men with the dwarf are felled by the hail of weapons, but the hardy Dwergar just shrugs off the heavy stone axe which smashes into the back of his head, grasps the rope cast out to him and allows the ship's movement to just pull him away.

"So, Martialis.... What the hell happened out there?" - Edgar Westerling, the pirate captain of the Sparrow.
"Well we found two temples, raided the first and then went on to the second. The second one held the captive prisoners and we rescued them, but those beasts put up a stout fight. And then we had to escape them, but on the way some ran afoul of the traps those creatures had sent on the path." - Martialis, summing up the venture.
"I see. Well, unfortunately, we've not solved our mast situation. We still need to put ashore somewhere to fix it. I don't want to sail in these waters without full manoeuvrability." - Edgar, wiping his face.
"Yes, we must consult the maps and find a better place." - Martialis.

And we left it there...

The Wrap-Up
A pretty good session in all. Again, Scotticus struggles with in-character conversation but that is hardly a flaw unique to him. Plenty of action in this one. The next one, hopefully we get a little more characterisation, and maybe even to a town. I'm hoping to introduce Bina, Najska or Teplava soon, the only really sizeable towns in the Lemarian archipelago. One of them is probably going to become Martialis' base of operations is my guess, so they will need to be interesting.

Hope you all enjoyed it,
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Re: Pirates of Lemaria - A Norbayne Campaign Log
« Reply #3 on: October 12, 2016, 03:39:58 AM »

Session 1.3: The Sparrow Gets Her Wings Back

“It is absolutely outstanding to think of what we can find out about the living, from those who have ceased to be that way. Oh, if only they would understand, I’m trying to help them!” – Lennart of Bina, writing on his prison cell wall.

We begin on board The Sparrow, with Martialis Ironlaw speaking with Edgar Westerling regarding their current course.

They decide to head for Bina, a small town built on a volcanic outcrop off a small island to south of Lemaria itself, accessible only by sea and a single road through the mountains.

The days of sailing are uneventful, the waters calmer now than they have been for the past few weeks. Within the week, the rocky slopes of the mountainous island upon which Bina sits, are seen from The Sparrow's rigging. There is cheering as the call goes up that land is sighted, the pirates glad to be within sight of civilisation.

Upon docking in the harbour, the crew disband through the town, looking for taverns.

Edgar turns to Martialis, the two of them standing by the ship's wheel. Beneath their raised position, work has already begun on replacing the mast, under the watchful eye of Thorek Berenson, the Dwergar ship's carpenter. The dwarf's gruff demeanour has not been improved by the recent whack to the head he took, but his eye for woodwork would seem to be second to none.

"Bina is ruled by an elected senate. This could be very dangerous." - Edgar, under his breath.
"How so?" - Martialis, replying in kind.
"Well in a democratic system, the rulers of a town are decided by public vote. And if we cause trouble here, or, Triad forbid, our pirating made common knowledge, we could be strung up for nothing more than political favour. The common-folk do not take kindly to pirates." - Edgar.
"Aye, I'll do my best to keep the men out of trouble." - Martialis.
"I'll tell the other officers the same." - Edgar, who immediately begins looking for Red Ronnet.

Martialis himself makes his way to a tavern himself and orders a large amount of the local beverage. Sitting in the corner of the tavern, huddled over his drink, the massive black Feartarbh strikes a surprisingly inconspicuous figure.

Then, through the door of the tavern come three of The Sparrow's crewmen. Loud and boisterous, the pirates swagger inside. Two of the men shove patrons out of their seats and clear a table, the third goes to the bar and orders a round of drinks.

An indignant yell goes around the room from the man at the bar.
"I’m not paying for our bloody drinks! Do you not know who we are?" - Crewman, to the stunned barkeep.
Another patron lays a hand on the pirate's arm.
"Come now, the price is not unreasonable. Why should you-" the man gets no further before the pirate shoves him to the floor and grabs the hilt of his blade.
"Get your hands off me! I will be respected!" - Pirate, obviously drunk.

Martialis has had enough at this point and grabs the pirate by the scruff of his shirt and hauls him outside.
"You have no idea how close I came to throwing you into the ocean, friend." - Martialis, growling.
The pirate sobers up remarkably quickly after being dragged back to The Sparrow by an angry Feartarbh, his friends following at a safe distance.

Martialis leaves them under the watch of Captain Westerling. As an aside, none of them have a very good night.

* * *

The next morning, Martialis is standing  by the ship’s wheel, watching the work going on below him. Under Thorek’s expert eye, the work has gone swiftly and there is hope The Sparrow will be out of Bina shortly.

“You know lad, we could do better than what we’ve got weapon wise.” – Thorek, standing beside the massive Feartarbh.
“How do you mean?” – Martialis, curious.
“See these here? I got these beauties from a man who lives in this very town.” – Thorek, handing the Feartarbh one of his pistols. The craftsmanship is exceptional.
“If we got the materials he would need, we have the money now to be able to afford a brace for each of the officers. Or hells! Imagine the destruction if you upsized them and replaced the ballistae on The Sparrow!”  - Thorek, grinning.
Having seen the damage the dwarf’s handheld weapons could cause, Martialis could certainly see the appeal in having his ship capable of doing that to other vessels.
“I’m interested. Where do we find this man?” – Martialis.
“They should be able to handle this for a time without me. I’ll take you there now.” – Thorek, holstering his pistol.

Together, the Dwergar and the Feartarbh make their way through the stony settlement, and eventually come across a small dwelling on the main street.
“Aye, this is his workshop.” – Thorek, knocking on the door, which is opened from the inside almost immediately.
“Welcome to the studio of Lennart of Bina my friends! What can I do for you?” – Lennart, a short man in a rather flamboyant get up. A long white tunic, embroidered with golden scrollwork around the collar, a wide leather belt with paintbrushes holstered in it and a long, pale red coat make up his garb.
Martialis gives the straight-talking Dwergar a look, and Thorek just shrugs in response. A shrug which says that yes, Lennart has always been like this.
The workshop itself is almost as strange, with blank mannequins strewn over the floor and piled in the far corner. A desk stands next to it, covered in tiny pieces of mechanical objects, gears and such. Paintings of birds in flight hang from the walls in a haphazard pattern. From the ceiling hangs a huge collection of coloured, feathered kites. All over the stone floor is an inch of clay and sawdust. Another room is curtained off.
“Lennart, we’ve come on a matter of your thundersticks. We’d like to discuss them with you.” – Thorek, taking the lead.
“Well then, come in, come in.” – Lennart, ushering them inside and closing the door. As soon as the door closes, Lennart’s cheerful face falls and he turns back to them.
“Thank the Triad you’re here Thorek, you and your bodyguard. I need help. Some people just don’t understand the things I am doing for science my friend. The guards are coming for me soon I’m sure of it.” – Lennart, wringing his hands together.
“What have you done now Lennart?” – Thorek, stroking his beard.
“Well, suffice to say I’ve got something in my possession that I really shouldn’t have and someone went and snitched to the guards. Can you just get them to clear off so I’ve got some time to finish getting rid of it?” – Lennart, hopeful.
“What is it Lennart? What do you have?” – Thorek.
“Look it’s nothing, I assure you. It’s been blown out of proportion completely.” – Lennart.
At that moment there is a heavy knocking on the door.
“Bina city guards! Open this door!” – Guardsman, from outside.
“Just a minute!” – Lennart, calling to the guards before hissing to Thorek and Martialis. “Help me!”
Martialis shrugs and goes to open the door, just as the guard outside kicks it open.
“Halt! Who are you?” – Guard, angrily, mace in hand.
“Duin Ronnet” – Martialis, lying.
Horrible failure on a Deception Check.
“I know Red Ronnet. I served with him on The Black Night just two years ago. You are not he. Your real name this time, or I’m taking you in.” – Guardsman, pissed off.
“Martialis Ironlaw. Why do you want this man?” – Martialis, arms crossed and refusing to be intimidated.
“Martialis Ironlaw, by order of the Senate of Bina, you must stand aside and allow us to arrest this man. He has been accused of digging up the graves of the dead and stealing the corpses and possessions.” – Guardsman, whose courage can’t be denied.
Martialis thinks about it for a moment, and then stands aside. Thorek, critically does too. The six guardsmen stream inside.
“It was for research! You don’t understand!” – Lennart, as the guardsmen bundle him out.
“Well, I am sorry. That was a complete bust.” – Thorek, grim.
“Not your fault. Let’s try to find another engineer who isn’t completely insane.” – Martialis.
“That man is a once-a-generation kind of talent. There are no others who can do what he can. Certainly not here in Bina.” – Thorek, shaking his head. “Besides, that career needs a person to be at least three-quarters crazed to get anywhere.”
“Soooo… No cannons for us…” – Scotticus.

Bina is a quiet town, and there are a few who are bored with their lives and look to join The Sparrow’s crew. Hopefully now, the next pirate attack won’t just wipe out the crew and they may stand a fighting chance. A few weapons are bought too, mainly bows and crossbows. Thorek retreats below decks after the initial work on the mast is finished, after procuring the supplies he needs to make blackpowder. He does emerge eventually, with a wide grin and carrying a large hessian sack filled with hollow, fist sized steel balls.

* * *

The days pass swiftly and The Sparrow is soon in a suitable condition for sailing.

Rumours have begun to circulate among the crew that the men who were rescued from the polud-malpa were part of an expedition looking for the hidden treasure caches of the famed pirate lord, Bloody-Handed Jak. The story goes that Jak hid his treasure in three separate locations somewhere amongst the Lemarian archipelago, and several captains have attempted to find the lost gold in the decades since. Of Jak himself, no one has heard of him for almost a century, having passed into the realm of legend.

Members of the crew who were rescued claim that they did find one of Jak’s caches on a map, hidden in the hold of an ancient shipwreck on the northern coast of what the men have started to call Skull Island. The ship must have run aground on a jagged reef many decades ago, but it sits there still, half above water, slowly rotting away.

And we left it there…

The Wrap-Up: This was a pretty quick session all in all, and it was pretty disjointed as we went through the map together at several points during the session.

He intends upon taking up this quest to find Bloody-Handed Jak’s treasure over the next few sessions which should be pretty interesting. We may also see Martialis show up in some other games in the future.

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By the power of Ga'haarr I command you to vanish! VANISH!
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(")_(") signature to help him gain world domination

Crazier than a crack-head cat and here to make sticky treats out of your vital organs.