The Merry Days of Dolmenwood

  GM Note: Ti having unexpected out-of-state business, we again returned to Pirate Borg, returning some of the characters from our last session. In the months after the survivors of the Granzko-Island-Debacle (Unmoored) sailed away in the lich-king's sloop, many things happened in the Dark Caribbean. Birds began to mysteriously migrate away from the southern islands. The population of Havana, Jamaica, and Guadeloupe had population spikes as migrants fled the Scourge, and our intrepid adventurers gained two more ships for their fleet! The cast of characters: Ny: Call Me Judas, a reprobate Zealot, and incidentally the character from the previous game whose name I couldn't remember when I wrote the blog! No: Sad, the Buccaneer, who never did get a good tri-corn hat, and desperately wants one. Er: Bonita Hector, the cannibal cook. De: Moka, a haunted sawbones, a doctor with a penchant for treachery. At the beginning of the session, Ny, No, and Er all leveled up their PCs, since the...

  One of our players (Ti, playing Sir Glad Turnhand) had a family event that required their presence in another state urgently (nothing emergent, but pressing enough to take him away), and so our scheduled Dolmenwood session had to be postponed. In lieu, I gave the ladies a few choices of theme for a one-shot. Pirates, non-Dolmenwood fantasy, sci-fi survival horror (Death in Space, not Mothership), and they chose Pirates! So, with one day's notice, everybody rolled up some scallywags, I quickly prepped a 2-3 hour-sized module, and today we rocked it in the Dark Caribbean, on the Unmoored Island, somewhere near the Dark Yucatan... The module we used is "Unmoored," by M. Allen Hall. Can't recommend it enough, a very fun, very cleverly designed island point-crawl. One of my favorite mechanisms that seems to pop up in Pirate Borg games more frequently than many other systems, is the "Why Are You Here" roll... Basically allows one module to be heavily flavored mu...

  First off, an out-of-game note---I broke my wrist two weeks ago (splintered the radius, my hand was flopping on the end of my arm like a jester's rubber bladder), and as such, typing is a REAL ordeal in my splint. Because of this, the last game we had scheduled was cancelled, and the session report for tonight's game may be a bit terser than usual. :) Bear with me, I'm doing the best I can! We revisit our adventurers on the morning of the 2nd of Haelhold. It is a drizzly morning. First thing, a young crier comes from the court, to formalize the terms of Sherbert's duel to first blood vs. a noble named Shagdore Snidebleat... Mowianne signs as Sherbert's second, learning Shagdore's second is somebody named Gripe Hwodlow. Meowianne and Sherbert plan on visiting Commander Abelwright to get more of Meowianne's HP healed, and then carousing again in the evening. Glad enlists Ddane to prepare for a Griffin hunt, that the two hope to conduct on their own, to try a...

The figure of a respectable, chestnut-furred longhorn man in a tweed and velvet smoking jacket thrust itself between Sir Glad and Sherbert, and said--- But first, we looked back to when Sir Glad arrived at High Hankle in the first place, before he'd met the others. Sir Glad had travelled west from Castle Brackenwold along Camp Road to the Woodcutter's Encampment, ferrying from there down the Lower Hameth to Dreg, and from there over to Lankshorn and then High Hankle, searching adventure. At High Hankle, he made sure to stop at The Chantry, knowing its old history as an inn exclusively for travelling clergy. There he met Sandrine Candlewick, and learned the story of her old ancestor, Abygail Grynn. This is the first of multiple possible adventures the group learned of tonight, and as such will be bullet-pointed. Abygail Grynn - Young woman seen by her fellow pilgrims to be lifted up into heaven as though by angel wings after a whole night praying at the crest of a hill. Reported...

The morning broke hot and humid over the lands of the southern Dolmenwood, and the plains below. The party, laden to a ridiculous extent, labored along the edge of the wood until they came to the Capring Road, and struck south. The sun was setting by the time they gained the Inn of the Tankards, sitting comfortably at the crossroads of the Tankard, Capring, and Bove's Roads, as well as the disused Ditchway path that meandered off to the east. Under the humid sunset skies, Sir Glad threw open the door to the inn. My early preliminary sketch of The Inn of the Tankards, and it's grounds Inside, the commons rooms were packed. Jovial mirth and laughter spilled from the open door. A fire crackled in the hearth, where a Bard was singing a long ballad of St. Clewyd and Sallowbryg, the evil atacorn. Crump was rushing back and forth between tables, serving ales and dinners to the motley patrons, while Nelga ran back and forth from the bar to the kitchens, a crimped, disapproving stare o...