(D&D) Southern Sing’jar Sea

Adding more details over next few days.

South of Sing’jar we have Belgar island, populated by sea elves, whom are generally defensive and isolationist. They distrust people from Faroth, notably because of Faroth’s history of sending gnomes south to plunder magic and gems from Belgar.  Belgar elves trade willingly with  the western shore of the Burati valley. Burati are mostly humans and elves, and export lots of grains to the area, except north to Sing’jar, because of the difficulty of crossing he Burati mountains to the north. The Burati river to the south forms a border with the Kyln.

Kyln are a small nation of hobgoblins. They are notable for having co-invaded Sing’jar during the Devil Insurgency. Kyln hobgobs are a vigilant society, at peace with Burati and Belgar, but ever watchful of Yil and Witkif.

The Yil heights are occupied by the Yuan-ti and their attending thrall. The area is complicated with lots of secretive house societies that maintain their own trade routes for contraband north into the Kyln, R’rusk, the high elven city east of the Kyln population, is the most popular silk road trade route. Any high level character could get hired as an escort on that illegal trade route.

Witkif is the capital city of the Whitechalk Cliffs region, the large spit that sticks far enough west to change the very seas north and south of it. Inhabited by orcs, ogres, and some giants, they are often rejecting their half-breeds or conscripting them for raids against Kyln and Yil.

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Dandilion spit is a dangerous place to dock because storms can dash your boat ashore so easily. The town itself it made of splintering ship planks, and finding any square carpentry is rare. There are three pubs here, and it is the fafstest way to switch ships or trade goods in bulk if the weather is kind.

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Snail Bay is a twisting sandbar draped araound sharp limestone outcrops in the delta of the Yarrow river. Not as much trade here and a much slower life-style. Sea traffic is barred many hours a day by tides that expose the Yarrow sandbar and the Seal’s Head sandbars. The Yarrow river does not flow fast enough to erode these areas when the tide is out. This makes Snail bay an effive place for smugglers to dock.

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Pinola cliffs is a strange collective that is one of the most curious places to buy magic or make armor. Each of the four large outcrops of rock is joined by rope bridges to large houses built into the side of the limestone cliffs. There are families of dwarves, elves, sea elves, and half-orcs that each have a family business on an island or in the cliffs.

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[D&D] Amroth’s accord with G’ning-ar

spider-darkmoonAmroth Cavepool, a young 70, was a bright miner and good with his fellow dwarves who lived deep below the Sing’jar mountains. Almost since his birth under these mountains, he had been present either defending the clan against the Cult of Ulexnil or repairing dammage to the tunnels from purple worms. Everyone had been busy for years, people were constantly being hurt, but they were saved by two things: the passages between east and west slopes of the mountains that brought trade with the surface, and plentitude of fungus that grew in the old passages left by the purple worms.

Uncle Harnig Ruktite had spent many years leading ore cars up to the elves on the east and out to the humans on the west to trade for game and wheat. On his latest trip he was late, and Agus Cavepool, on patrol, found him slumped against the wall, unconcious from a stab wound in a tunnel on the west side. This was unusual, because the Cult would not have used blades, it would have been magic. The humans were too loud and typically repelled by the traps near the entrances to get so far. Some malicious cavedweller was on the loose!

Amroth, Agus and aunt Elinke stuffed their packs with jars of pickled mushroom slices and salted deer jerky, hefted their picks and set out to find the culprit. First, the connector tunnels between the family areas and the mining viens: normal. Next the ore discard paths that lead east: interesting lone tracks on the gravel. Then the discard paths that lead west: more tracks by the same foot prints and signs of dwarf scat. A new tunnel was found dug to the mushroom grove and it had regular footprints. No one would notice stealing fungus from the back of the cave. The team retreated to watch the path.

A single young dwarf appeared, climbing over a bolder they hadn’t considered had any room behind it, and started walking the path to mushrooms. As he approached, they noticed he was bald with barely a beard. Was he burned? He barely stood out from the darkness as if he was also the color of shadow. Agus signaled and they all jumped down from the walls and surrounded the fellow. Amroth felt a jab below his eye and immediatly fell backwards, but Agus and Elinke both struck him with their picks and he went down.

The prisoner was clearly foreign, and appeared to resent the sight of them. He was gray skinned and had a few spines as wiskers on his chin. This was a Deurgar, but none had been seen in this land…ever. His name was G’ning-ar, and he didn’t now how to get home. He liked how dark it was in the caves, because where he came from it wasn’t dark enough. But wherever that was, he couldn’t find a way back. He was lost from his family and doing fine by himself, thank you. The shook G’ning-ar down and found almost a sack’s worth of daggers, gems, and stolen jerkey from their pantries.

There was no way this Deurgar was going to live among the Cavepools, he was a thief and an unrepentant one. No recognition of good dwarven god was about him…this was a rogue from another world here for no apparent reason. Agus, Amroth and Elinke tied his hands and lead G’ning-ar up a dozen levels, nearly to the surface, and left him there on the floor, without his daggers. “Go any lower,” they said, “and we’ll break your legs and leave you on the surface, you thief!”

G’ning-ar hated the Cavepools. Hated them more than the other wierdo magic using dwarves he met in the south that kept shooting magical arrows and fire at him. That wasn’t comfortable, but at least he didn’t get a chance to be insulted and humiliated. These Cavepools were all dicks. Any chances to steal from them would be welcome!

And for the next 200 years, G’ning-ar make a trip every week to wreck something owned by the Cavepools. Not always successfully, but enought to keep them constantly cautious. No dimwitted knuckle dragging pick swinging dwarf would find a rogue deurgar in a million years, right?

 

[D&D] G’ning-ar’s Long Walk

barrel-headGruuden’kar son of Gnuden’tik, slayer of Shivvek, was always full of stories, and constantly derailing conversations with a “one time, you know…” and a “that reminds me of,” to the point at which granson G’ning-ar son of Pubshan son of Gruuden’kar learned to just say “that’s right, grandpa,” and go on swinging his toy hammer when being toted about on Pubshan’s back.

They, Pubshan and Gruuden’kar, would take G’ning-ar scavenging in the old city Tatus, once home to a hundred-thousand Githyanki. Old buildings would be stacked with abandoned weapons, magic wands, staves and bows decorated in many manners. Not all of them were safe, either. Before touching any appealing item, it would get collected into a blanket and not directly touched until cleric Tru’de-gar could determine if it was cursed.

G’ning-ar, when he was a young thirty or so, decided to wander off while Pubshan grandpa were moving a pile of fallen bricks away from a big door. Duergar are hardy, but any chanse of slipping away and finding some silence always appealed to G’ning-ar. It became very quiet, very suddenly…and he couldn’t hear his clothes rustle, he breath, or his heart beat. He looked down and found himself in a glowing circle of runes.

The next place he saw was nothing but endless sky. In the far, far distance was a floating island that looked like a corpse covered in tiny buildings…just floating in the sky…getting smaller. Turning around, he saw an short, iron banded house floating about twenty steps away. He was twisting to the left, the house was slowly twisting to the right. He waved his legs and started twisting backwards.

This was trouble. Shouting wouldn’t help, he knew. Duergar common sense told him that he was probably doomed. But Gruuden’kar might have told a story about something like this. So he spun and thought. And got more and more hungry. Grandpa Gru once told a story about how he followed a Githyanki through a portal onto a field of air. It didn’t make any sense to G’ning-ar at all at the time. But Gru said he figured out that in the field of air, if you thought in unison with your feet, your intention would wisk you along. Gruuden’kar finally cought up to the Githyanki and stabbed him in the back, stole his purse and satchel of onyx stones that he then threw away becuase they would only be useful to a filthy wizard.

The iron-banded house was slowly rotating into view. G’ning-ar purposefully swung his leg and opposite hand in stride as if we were walking to the house. And he got moved closer. In a few strides he even felt like he was walking on a path. In a minute, he grabbed the handle to the door, swung it open, and stepped through.

And his back smaked as if he fell twenty feet onto a tallas slope. He slid down and crumpled up against a rock wall. Welts and scratches along along his back, arms and legs were stinging madly. And it was much darker than he remembered seeing in a long time. Grampa Gru tended to wander about the city in it’s dim light so frequently that the total dark of a cave was rather rare.

Letting his head spin, his ears ring, and his welts throb…slowly the shape of the tunnel, the rubble, and the pick marks of the mine he was in became clear. This tunnel was crap dwarven work! Their tools were dull, the idgit bastards! They didn’t clear a path on the floor so they could keep clearing. Sigh–he got up, shook himself a bit and found his balance, and decided that he brought this exile on himself. He would miss his dad and grandpa, but clearly, this place was entirely new…

[D&D] Meet Alberich

Dwarf_by_BrokenMachine86-jAlberich Ungart is a mountain dwarf, a cleric.
Why adventure in caverns? Well, I would be interested in finding about the history of the dwarves who lived in the caverns, as it is important to me so understand where I come from. I feel I could be useful to the other adventurers because I am a dwarf and a cleric, I might be able to help navigate caverns and keep everybody calm and alive.
As for working above ground… I am sensitive to the sunlight and prefer to work in shaded conditions.
Yes I think it’s possible there is a beholder within the caverns. As beholders have so many potential powers it makes me wonder if it is somehow related to where the dwarves might have gone that abandoned the caverns.

[D&D] Meet Thardis

Minotaur_Gladiator_II_FigureThardis Hornhelm is a minotaur fighter. Thardis comes to the caverns in the hope of finding ancient wonders. he also hopes to end the evil of the cult of Ulexnil. Thardis doesn’t hate life above ground but he would rather be underground away from the darkness that plagues his race and hunting the evil dwarves he despises. Thardis fears that a beholder may be influencing the cult of Ulexnil…he would prefer it if it didn’t exist…but if it does, he would be happy to put an end to its vile monstrosity of a life.

Meet Snilla

Snilla is a greedy hafling rogue, on this expedition so she can pay back her debts. Maybe find some valuable ancient artifact. Sell it to the highest bidder, then leave. Works below ground so she can hide from adverseries.

The beholder is a myth.

[D&D] Meet Noomi

Noomi Rockslayer, son of Kiven Stormskin, Minotaur fighter, traveler of caverns and heir to the throne of Gorith. Sent adrift through the caves of the world after being denounced by his father for his small size.

Noomi Rockslayer seeks money, power, and to one day…rule the greatest kingdom in the world! That would show his father just how wrong he was. He seeks fame and respect, for these things (that would be his right) have been wrongfully denied him. Noomi wishes not to touch the light of day until he has proven himself worthy of the respect that he desires. He wishes to collect the riches of the earth–and with them build his empire!

Noomi Rockslayer knows about beholder…their twisted minds and forms to match…born into this world literally of nightmares. Beholder horde their treasure deep within the earth where it cannot be found…they spend their days planning contingencies–and at night they dream, horrible terrifying dreams that would kill any sane creature! Yes Noomi knows of them–he knows what they are, how they act…but most importantly: he knows to stay well enough away from them, lest they (in their paranoid insanity) deside that he is a threat…

(D&D) New Occupation of Sing’jar

General Gaeal Bunfur, hobgoblin warlord, lead his troops west across the Sing’jar mountains after the orc shock troops. Following closer and sooner than planned, the hobgoblins lead with kobolds to capture the lagging orcs. The hobgoblins, kobolds and bugbears methodically captured and imprisoned the civilians of the area.

General Scabwart the Orc warlord was assassinated upon claiming the mayors mansion, and a coup de tat stole the city from the orcs. Bunfur installed new military leadership, if somewhat unconventional. The following mercenaries were brought into run the city:

Uulopa Sadgrin (Warlock. Human. Archfiend, L14)

Wylan Darkglove (Oathbreaker Paladin. Human. L14)

Yuseph Pitland (Necromancer . Human.
L14)

Eucalors Helm of Control
Sends controllee into rage or double rage CON damage to controller
Target must be in sight of both
Range 120
Requires concentration

Welkers Robe of Spirit Shifting
Allows raise dead / control dead
By touching dead and living subject
Costs 1 con per use
Effects as per Finger of death

Ring of Malignment
Used when bring a spirit into a body, changes the spirit alignment to evil. Transfer +2 int to strength.

Bugbear Platoon

Platoon Structure

Hobgoblin General Brunfur’s veteran batallion occupying Sing’jar have plenty of resources, and the battle to get north involved fighting elves, drow and orcs. Bugbears are trained as rangers and gnolls are trained as shock troops. Platoons have wizards and clerics as part of the team as well. Goblins are not even offered non-commissioned status: they are kept as conscripted troops and slave servants. There are 30-150 goblins per platoon, typically centered in service to the Lieutenant’s command in service of all the cooking, cleaning and platrol of the command camp.

  1. Squad 1
    1. Team 1
      1. Corporal, Fighter, Hobgoblin, Raven
      2. Fighter
      3. Fighter
    2. Team 2
      1. Corpral, Fighter, Hobgoblin, Raven
      2. Fighter
      3. Fighter
      4. Fighter
    3. Team 3
      1. Sergeant, Fighter, Hobgoblin, Raven, Worg
      2. Ranger, Bugbear
      3. Cleric Hobgoblin
      4. Fighter
  2. Squad 2
    1. Team 4
      1. Corporal, Fighter, Hobgoblin, Raven
      2. Fighter
      3. Fighter
      4. Fighter
    2. Team 5
      1. Corporal, Ranger, Bugbear, Raven
      2. Fighter
      3. Fighter
    3. Team 6
      1. Sergeant, Fighter, Raven, Worg
      2. Cleric Hobgoblin
      3. Fighter
      4. Fighter
  3. Squad 3
    1. Team 7
      1. Corporal, Bugbear Ranger, Dire Wolf, Raven
      2. Gnoll Fighter
      3. Gnoll Fighter
    2. Team 8
      1. Lieutenant, Fighter, Worg, Raven
      2. Wizard, Hobgoblin, Horse
      3. Bugbear Ranger
      4. Cleric Hobgoblin

Platoon Stat Blocks

class

Level/CR

XP

HP

AC

To Hit/Damage

Dire Wolves: 4/2 800 48/6d10+12 15 (leather) +6/2d6+4 bite, +6/1d4+6 claw (1-3 attacks)
Hobgoblin Fighter 4/2 450 39/6d8+12 17 (half plate) +4/1d6 +2 longsword

javelin

Gnoll Fighter 4/2 450 39/7d8+2 17 (studded leather) +6/1d4+6 bite,

+6/1d6+6 spear,

+5/1d6+5 (x2) dual short swords

Hobgoblin Clerics: 5/3 700 53/8d8+16 17 (half plate) +6/1d10+6 war hammer
Hobgoblin Wizard: 4/2 650 42/8d6+16 12 (amulet, robe)
Hobgoblin Ranger: 4/2 650 53/8d8+16 17 (Breastplate, buckler) +5/1d8+5 longsword
+5/1d8+5 longbow
Bugbear Ranger: 5/3 800 65/10d8+20 17 +5/2d8+3 morningstar

+6/1d8+4 longbow

Raven: 1
Corporal Bugbear: 6/4 1600 71/11d8+22 17 +6/2d8+4 +1 morn

+7/1d8+5 longbow

Corporal Gnoll (dual wielding) 5/4 1500 42/7d8+8 18 leather/mail shirt +9/2d4+4 bite, poison

+9/1d6+9 glaive

+7/1d6+9, +5/1d6+5 dual shortsword (2 attack)

Corporal Hobgoblin: 3/4 1600 46/7d8+13 17 (half plate) +5/2d6+4 greatsword
Sergeant Hobgoblin: 6/6 3200 97/13d8+39 20 (plate, shield) +9/1d8+6 +1 greatsword
Lieutenant Hobgoblin: 9/7 6500 115/16d8+45 21 (plate +1 sh) +13/2d8+9 +2 greatsword
Worgs: 4/2 58/8d10+8 14 (leather) +7/2d6+7, DC14 trip

The teams with fewer members are often supplemented with goblins, gnolls, bugbears or mercenary specialiists.

The Gnoll corporals are part of a dual-wielding training regimen that gives them two attacks when dual wielding their short swords.

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(D&D) Pushing a Lion with a Donkey

The orcs that razed Sing’jar quickly took the mayors manor on the north plateau overlooking the north bay, smashing the porcelain and hording the silver. The art on the walls was thrown in a bonfire to celebrate the conquest of the civilized peoples of Sing’jar. To bring the rejoicing destruction to its pinnacle, Scabwart Blaktooth, the aged commander of the orc assault legion, herded the mayor, her husband, the half-elven retinue, and the gnome ambassador of Faroth on the mayoral barge, and murdered them while the ship was set alight with burning pitch. General Blaktooth swam back to shore with a refreshed grin on his face and ordered the wine cellar opened.

Orcs, half-orcs, and kobolds filled their cups with the mayors wine and set about the gardens, seeing what would take to fire, and stomping what would not burn. Cattle that bolted were caught and spits were erected to roast fine cattle and sheep. The best eating the Blaktooth orcs remembered for decades! Most grew up in the Galentaspar region, catching small rodents and working the granite piles constantly watched by Drow or their lieutenants.

hobgoblin-archer-silScabwart sat back on a couch that had been hefted atop an overturned cart for a good vantage point of the looting. The mayor’s silver platter with a side of beef ribs was sitting near and a water bucket half filled with wine was sitting in his lap. The sun would rise in about two hours and the December air was as cold as he’d ever experienced it. He moved the bucket to the table and wrapped a tapestry—something with dumb fey hominids on it—around him, and resumed pouring the wine into his mouth.

Geael Brunfur, a heavily maned hobgoblin with gray whiskers and white eyebrows kicks gnawed ribs away as he approached Scabwarts makeshift dinner post. “Dining in pleasure, I see, General Blaktooth!” Gaeal shouted as he approached.

Wat? Oh, Gaeal! GAEAL! Hah!,” (spits), “I love this campaign! Such routing of elves! Such frightened civilians! What enjoyably week militia! Ate them we did! We will be eating these prisoners for weeks!” Scabwart smiled, then winced, as a raindrop hit him in the eye.

“General,” Gaeal continued as he made himself a seat next to the orc on the couch, “Its time to discuss some rear guard actions. Our last supply chain has made it through the woods and follows your host. I say, but you’ve left us with very little to eat in your wake. It’s a good thing we came with some rations. I never knew a whole city…a whole city! Hah! A whole city would barely fill your appetite!”

“An orc’s apetite is never sated when there are fey around, you know this you old goblin!” Scabwart poked at Brunfur’s arm, then smacked away the hobgobin’s hand that was reaching for a rib on the tray. “Mine, you old thief! Your help is appreciated, but I won this fight and you won’t pull the carcass out from under my claws while I’m chewing it! Do what you want with the rear guard. There’s plenty to go around, you lot of beggars. And why are you souring my meal with work talk? Why aren’t your beating some half elf or chewing on some damned dwarf’s leg? Don’t you enjoy how they squeal? Isn’t it delightful?”

“Yes…yes, general. But you must meet the new city managers I’ve brought along. We want to keep the shipyards running, you know. Here, here—meet Logician Uulopa Sadgrin our new city manager…and here is our new guard captain Wylan Darkglove, he’ll organize the our defenses…and here’s Yuseph Pitland, our new Dockmaster, too keep trade in the bay profitable.”

Scabwart’s grin faltered and his upper lip raised in a perplexed scowl as three cloaked and devious characters came into the firelight. There was the shadows of hobgoblin warriors behind each, hands on hilts, at attention. Replacing his wine bucket and resting his hands at his sides at this development, Scabwart knew he needed to move first, but move smoothly. There was a dagger in each of his palms already. These hobgoblins were too orderly…to sure of themselves to ever be trusted.

“Plans can wait for the morning,” the General said as he raised his half-fist towards the old hobgoblin, “we didn’t expect you for days. You’re early! What we need official-like peoples here for already, Brunfur?” And while enunciating his name, Scabwart flicked the dagger right at Gaels throat and threw his left handed dagger at skinny figure Uulopa Sadgrin. His hands were on his scimitar before the daggers would land!

The dagger thrown at Uulopa merely caught in his thick robes. Scabwart felt time slow down as he watched as the dagger flopped to the ground. General! General, we’re under attack! The screams of the captured were now the shrieks of orcs? Something caught Scabwart’s eye as he began the swing of his scimitar towards Brunfur—a orc was standing next to him waving his hands to stop him? Why preserve the life of crappy hobgob? The scimitar seemed to cut individual wisps of smoke as it lazily traced its path to the hobgoblin. Why is the rack of ribs smacking me in the face?

Brunfur pulled the dagger out of his shoulder armor, rose and plunged it into the back of the clearly confused and disoriented Scabwart. Scabwart cringed in meek terror at the surprisingly brutal attack. Uulopa stepped forth with a green glow about the blade of a darkened iron dagger and with the phrase for Tharzidun! Jabbed his dagger into the orc general’s eye and watched as his flesh bubbled as boils and gangrene spread across Scabwart’s shrieking face.

Dawn broke through the smoky darkness surrounding the mansion, and a new bonfire was erected: the wood of the outbuildings of the manner was piled and set alight and as the flames fought the falling raindrops, dozens of orc bodies were heaped on the pyre. Gaeal Brunfur set up command of his hobgoblin army in the captured mayor’s mansion, and took command from the invading orcs.

Behind the platoons of orcs that slaughtered the defenders of Sing’jar, larger ranks of goblins commanded by hobgoblins pulled the supply chain behind. No one likes orcs. Especially not when there’s money to be made. Sing’jar is where money and power will be made, and General Gaeal Brunfur was just beginning to see his plan set in motion.