Sesson 1 Campain intro
The Old Kings are dead. Their names lost, their kingdoms buried, their barrows long forgotten. As were all the memories and legends from ages long past, in the days before the coming of the first emperor. Lost as the shadows of night before the brilliant dawn.
The Old Gods slumber. Their shrines overgrown or buried beneath the lintels of new orders. Their voices mere whispers, festering beneath the cantors of new faiths.
For 10000 years Old Attinar has slept. Imperial roads built from crumbling causeways. Cities of stone buried deep beneath wood villages. The borders of ancient kingdoms divide livestock from grain.
Attinar is at peace, as it has been since the first Tiber Emperor founded the golden throne.
And yet something now moves in the darkness. Shadows flicker in the shade of ancient hills. A nameless fear grows across the land.
War rages in lands across the seas, the armies of the empire are called away to do battle, the people rest uneasily, their dreams unsettled and unremembered. Some that walk the streets at night disappear and travelers speak of demons dancing in the fields.
This tale begins with an execution. No, perhaps that is not quite right. This tale begins with the
botched attempted assassination of Emperor Tiberius the Alabast and the resulting public execution of famed assassin Rin’Gareth.
The people whisper. The last words of a doomed assassin echo in the dark corners of Attinars taverns.
“The truth” Rin had cried before he was impaled upon the Spear of Tiber “lies in the shadows of our blood.”
Months have passed, and even in the far reaches of the northern ports, and the southern mountains the Rhyme of Rin is whispered with ill news.
He wore a cloak lined all in red.
A coin tied round his neck with thread.
A mark upon his chest displayed
Broken Shards of a curious blade
For the first time since the founding of the Tiber Dynasty the people have grown restless. The Temples of the Heron are flooded with the common man fearing what lurks in the darkness. Afraid of the wars outside the Empire, and shaken by the words of a dead assassin.
Emperor Tiberius, his council in chaos, his Silver Herons stretched thin, has decried that any brave soul of military age is to report to either the town of Pan or the city of Hoen where expeditions are being mounted to investigate the shadows growing in the hills.
Each of you have left your homes, for one reason or another, in search of answers and perhaps even an adventure,, the first of its kind in nearly 10,000 years of unbroken Tiber rule. Since the Kings of Old died upon spears of Tiberian steel.
Our story begins in a tavern, in a valley, in the shadow of an ancient hill. Our adventure begins in
Pan.
The township of Pan is like many others in Attinar, built upon the ancient bones of a long dead kingdom, tall timber beams sunken down into the solid stones of an age long past, the roads that connect the lands have outlived the names of their makers.
To the East a river runs past the town, wide and lazy, even in the rains of summer it does not swell past its neatly raised banks.
Pan has three principal buildings.
It has a Tavern, a Heron chapel, and a small outfitters shop which provides various goods of dubious quality to travelers. The fields have long been left fallow, far longer than their need to regrow. Brambles have risen from overgrown fields and creep ever towards the town center.
For it was here that the shadow grew first. It was here the disappearances began. It was here that the fat Abbot of the Heron, Gustlav Kreckt was found, pinned to his pulpit by a broken blade.
When the was found the doors of the chapel were nailed shut and the people fled muttering small prayers beneath their shawls and beards. Only the merchant, the bartender, and the decaying corpse of a dead cleric remained.
That was of course until the decree of the Emperor put Pan back upon the map.
A small retinue of Silver Herons arrived a week ago and quickly constructed a pavillion and temporary chapel, and days later a cart bearing crates of weapons and supplies arrived, and soon after they came. Curious folk, some cautions, some brash,some came only to see the activity and others to naysay the foolishness of it all, but many came seeking the promise of adventure.
Pan has grown into a bustling tent and shanty town, and today those that came seeking coin and
blade have gathered at the Tavern to see and to hear.
[Draw Tavern] Ask players to specify where they wish to be placed.
A Knight-Captain of the Silver Herons summons a silver platform from the floor. A disk held up by a column formed from three herons, their sharp beaks pointing outwards towards the encircling crowd.
“YOU ARE HERE AT THE SERVICE OF THE EMPEROR TO ROOT OUT THE MISCHIEF THAT HAS BEEN PLAGUING THIS LAND.
ALL HERE ARE NOW IN THE EMPERORS SERVICE.”
The crowd rumbles.
“Oh how high and mighty. I’m just here to watch ya fancy git.” A man calls out.
[reflex saves for a few dudes] DC 8
-Players either dodge, narrowly escape, or are grazed by a crossbow bolt as it punctures the man's face.
The Knight-Captain continues as if nothing has occurred.
“You will receive your colors and supplies upon exiting this tavern.”
[perception check] DC 10 to notice Silver Herons at all exits. DC 15 notice the bartender is no where to be seen.
“You will change and take down any dwelling you have currently constructed, and meet in the field south of the city near our Pavillion and make camp with your newly provided recruits tent.
As of now, you are Brass Herons.”
The Knight Captain steps down and you all find yourselves harried through the front door by grim faced Silver Herons.
True to the Knight-Captains words you each receive a crate of gear.
[Put Gear package in each inventory]
A line of torches lead you down the road and to a field adjacent to the boarded up chapel and just south of the Silver Herons pavilion tents.
A few recruits arrive ahead of you and you are all divided up into groups to set to make camp in little circles all around the field.
[Perception Check] DC 15. The Silver Herons seem uneasy.
Taps is played, and begrudgingly (and in some cases with a little heavy handed encouragement) all the recruits, yourselves included. Are put to bed. A dense fog rolling in as you close your tent flaps.
Everyone makes a listen check [DC 8] if they fail the listen they make a reflex [DC 10]
Stonesunder - 2 skeletons. 1 is gleefully pulling apart an unfortunate recruit the other is pulling back for another swing.
The other tents are either abandoned or collapsed and wet with dark liquids.
[After Combat] A fire in the distant camp draws your eye.
Auga - 3 Stirge 2 are feeding on a body next to her 1 is in the air nearby. After killing the first is assisted by a large Brund who calls himself Boarfist. After combat Boarfist leads her towards a fire. He saw others heading that way.
Boarfist: A tall Brund that looks like he might be either carved from a mountain or perhaps just descended from one. His skin is granit grey, his eyes a grim black, he carries a large greatsword but appears to fight mainly with his fists.
Wynrie - 3 Skeletons 1 stirge trying to get at her. The Skeletons are group chopping up a still somewhat alive recruit.
If Wynrie fails her saves Yorgrim appears and pulls her up by the hood, if she makes them, he appears as the 3 skeletons turn towards Wynrie.
Yorgrim: A vaguely Kovor looking man, slightly taller, with a darker complexion. He is bearded and cloaked in a rich forest green. He appears to suffer from heterochroma.
[Spot] DC 18 Notice that his heterochromic eye is in fact split amber/grey, and his other eye is straight blue.
Nell - 4 Stirge and 1 Skeleton, the skeleton appears to be dragging someone's torso by the ribs.
During combat a large wolfish dog appears and takes out 2 stirge right away and helps deal with remaining Stirge and Skeleton before trotting towards the fire.
Pup: Looks like a cross between a wolfhound and a wolf, his fur is a black and grey brindle making it difficult to follow his movements in the low light of night. Hulking could be used to describe him, he seems larger than any wolf or dog you have ever seen but clearly occupies the same space that either would take up.
You each of you arrive at a particularly grisly grouping of tents. One is on fire and the rest are in various states of destruction, some smeared with blood others appear dragged and battered.
[Spot DC 10] Large bloody footprints lead towards the city.
In the center of the circle a brown haired girl holding the body of another girl, around the same age with darker hair. There is blood everywhere and her mournful cry fills the night sky.
As you approach you see that darker haired girl died of some terrible wounds to her abdomen. Heal Check DC 15 (Appear to be caused by a giant blade, more cleaver than sword)
The crying girl tries to speak to you but blood spills from her lips as she falls over dead. Two Stirges fly out from behind her as she falls forward.
In the darkness outside the ring of tents you hear movement. [Roll Initiative]
[After Combat]
“Take off the mark. Take off the mark of the heron” Yorgrim bellows.
He then approaches the nearest player an tears off their broach and throws it to the ground. Looking at everyone meaningfully he raises his sword “You have been deceived” and then lets his blade fall upon the broach, which splits it open revealing fragments of decaying bones.
He motions to the skeletons. “Kin call to Kin, evil calls to evil”
A bellowing howl, beastial and filled with hunger echos in the distance.
Yorgrim begins packing his things, checking over his items and weapons and then gives you all an appraising look.
“I know not what brought you to this accursed place, but I advise you to head back to your warm hearths and quiet lives. Your kinsmen hear are long dead, most were dead or dying afore I arrived only you lot are left. The Herons are gone. There is nothing left here for ya. I mean to track whatever left these tracks and then to follow those who left ye to death and destruction and see what may be seen. If you’re going to go, avoid the town, take to the river and follow it west to Bangor.”
He moves to walk away, but turns back for a final word his eyes grazing over the corpses of two friends, to curious for their own good, still holding each other in death in the middle of the campsite.
“But if ye follow me where this path leads, perhaps ye may find meaning in this night other than
that of senseless death and sorrow.” The warrior clad in green then nods to the large wolfdog “Cmon Gevaud, lets go.” The big pup looks your group over before heading after Yorgrim.
Perception Check [10] The pup appears worried.
[If players go to River See, The River Chase]
[If players follow Yorgrim see, The Dark Chapel]