Today's Monster Monday entry is the basajaun - or 'Lord of the Forest' - a hairy forest man of Basque mythology that lives in forest or mountain villages tending crops and sheep. Long ago, according to the myth, humans stole the secret of agriculture from the basajaunak (plural of basajaun).
This is part 11 of my ongoing account of the sandbox campaign I am currently running. Updates are frequent, if irregular, and at the end of each post I talk about one or more subjects pertaining to the adventure but more broadly applicable to all campaigns. You can find the previous parts here.
With the dreaded Blackhide dead, the party began to loot the goblin den, during which time Zel and her roc Cameo rejoined the party. They took the flaming morningstar and rat-hide cloak off of Blackhide's corpse, and combed the rest of the dungeon for treasure. Behind one door, they discovered a mining operation powered by slaves, whom they freed. One of the slaves, a dwarf, turned out to by Monty's long-lost son Jonnal, whom the giant orc Grathwar had carried in a cage at his hip for years before growing bored and selling him to Blackhide. The party also looted a passel of potions from the goblin alchemists' "laboratory," picking them out of the more unsavory and mysterious devices and concoctions therein. The other rooms surrounding the large open chasm that was the goblins' stronghold were less rewarding - only a few hundred silver and a few thousand copper came from ransacking the various caves and cavelets where the goblins slept en masse amongst filthy hides and furs, and nothing of value was turned up in the various wolf dens or the accurately named "meat room."
Finally, however, they came to Blackhide's private chamber and found it brimming with gold and jewels and treasure. Rikkit was particularly interested in a stout, gilded scepter ("Just the perfect size for a goblin pimp cane") that turned out to be a Rod of Wonder.
As the party left the goblin den, they encountered a hunched old man in a rough brown cloak. "You have slain Blackhide?" he asked of them.
"Yes, we have. He will trouble this region no more."
The old man threw back his cloak, revealing shimmering garments of red and blue, a cunning face, and a long beard of black and white. "You have killed one of my pawns. For that you shall pay, in time. But for now, know this: I have my eyes on you, and where my eyes go, my servants follow." With that, he vanished in a cloud of green smoke.
Today's Monster Monday entry is the glatisant, a strange, chimæric beast of Arthurian legend. Born of an incestuous union and symbolic of corrupting evil, slaying this beast is often the object of a knight errant's quest.
The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is (C)2013 Jonah Bomgaars.
This is part 10 of my ongoing account of the sandbox campaign I am currently running. Updates are frequent, if irregular, and at the end of each post I talk about one or more subjects pertaining to the adventure but more broadly applicable to all campaigns. You can find the previous parts here.
Monty, Sigrid, Kat, and Daphne set out into the wilderness in search of Grothmagog, or Greypeak, supposed location of the dreaded Blackhide's camp. After a day or two of trekking, with early autumn snow falling around them and catching in the trees, they saw in the distance a mountain peak comprised mostly of sheer stone faces which rejected heavy snow accumulation. A grey peak amongst white ones. They headed toward it. The trees began to shake rhythmically with tremendous footsteps, more and more snow sloughing off the branches as the source drew nearer. Soon, they heard two voices speaking in slurred, booming words:
"Oy, Filk, 'ow much longer we gotta haul deeze little guys around for?"
"Buck up, Wallitz, it's ee-sen-shull for da war effort!" the second voice replied.
"But our back 'urtz!"
"Well dat's da price we'ze gotta pay in order not to get jumped by packs of greasy, disgusting 'umans, innit?"
Then there was a loud sniffing sound, and a third voice cut in, "Quiet, you two! I smell sommat wot I 'aven't smelt in years..."
At that, Monty charged toward the sound of the voices and footsteps. As he broke out into the clearing made by a dry streambed, he saw a hunch-backed, two-headed giant brandishing twin flails and with a crude wooden howdah strapped to its back from which three goblin scouts peered over the trees, surveying the land. Two ogres marched at its side, and leading them all was a brutish, orcish-looking giant in splint mail armour.
"Grathwar!" shouted Monty. "You'll pay for what you did to my family!"
This is part 9 of my ongoing account of the sandbox campaign I am currently running. Updates are frequent, if irregular, and at the end of each post I talk about one or more subjects pertaining to the adventure but more broadly applicable to all campaigns. You can find the previous parts here.
Armed with new intelligence on the bandit problem here in the north, including the whereabouts of the goblin chieftain Blackhide, the party decided to undertake a long journey southwards to resurrect the fallen Sir Hardrig. But first they had to stop off in Castle Morbis again. They met with Guard Captain Husker to inform him of their success and collect the bounty on Uli Blackeye's head and a sizable collection of bandit scalps, then retired to the Rusty Glaive for some well-deserved rest and relaxation. In the common room of the establishment, they met a familiar sight; a mysterious cloaked stranger sat in a shadowy corner of the bar. It was Spider, the Death-worshiping, undead-hunting ranger.