Daeoria -- Campaign Log, Session #1
The Land of
Daeorian Campaign Log — Session #1
Session #1: [2006.07.15] Arrival in Ashtakahr...
Participants (In alphabetical order):XP Awarded
Throm Gromgol Half-orcCleric . . .
Matt Storm Human Druid . . .
Tomber TimtookeryGnome Librarian. . .
Vindahr Wood ElfRanger . . .

Major events of the session: {1st & 2nd day.}

From their various home worlds, through means intentional and otherwise, our heroes enter the interdimensional realm between worlds.

Throm Gromgol is selected by his people to travel to Daeoria to offer such help as he can to aid the revered wizard, Maexon, in his continuing effort to rid Daeoria of the evil tyrant, Xox. Courageously, he accepts the challenge and steps through a magical portal to travel to Daeoria.

Tomber Timtookery attempts a spell far beyond his meager abilities in an effort to impress the more powerful wizards of his local wizarding community. The spell goes predictably awry and he finds himself lost in a foggy cloud of mists in the uncharted realms between worlds. Large, dark and looming shadows send him fleeing into the mist until he encounters Throm. Passing himself off as a mere librarian and chronicler of information, Tomber follows Throm to Daeoria.

Matt Storm wanders the forrests of his home world until he stumbles across a magical portal inexplicably in the middle of the woods. Being of an adventurous spirit, he steps through it and finds himself wandering the trackless void between worlds. With luck, he narrowly avoids a confrontation with some shadowy fiend with long tenticles and makes it safely to the land of Daeoria.

And finally, Vindahr of the Woodland Elves undertakes the transdimensional journey to Daeoria in the hope of offering aid to the noble cause of freeing the oppressed people of Daeoria from the cruel claws and terrible teeth of Xox. While walking between the worlds Vindahr hears the grunts and grumbles of two creatures that are following him but are concealed by the thick mists. Hastening his pace he steps out of the mists and into the teleport terminal in Ashtakahr on Daeoria.

Throm, Tomber, and Vindahr arive one after the other and are quickly followed by two ogres who had been stalking Vindahr through the interplanar void. After a brief disagreement with the management of the Ashtakahr teleport, one of the ogres is frozen with a magical beam of frost. When pushed over, the ogre-cicle smashes into a million fragments of ice. The other ogre, having the wit to realize that he is severely overmatched, flees back into the void. Moments later Matt steps from the misty void treading unexpectedly upon tiny fragments of ice.

The cloaked and hooded keepers of the Ashtakahr teleport read from a scroll a welcome message, which includes a warning to follow the laws or face dire consequences. Our intrepid heroes are then shown the door and are told to leave.

Stepping out of the chilly teleport and into the oppressive heat of the Daeorian dessert sun as it shines down upon the city-state of Ashtakahr, our heroes contemplate the billboard signs posted near the road and consider their next step. Deciding that combat in the arena sounds like a viable plan, they make for the center of the city to find the famous Ashtakahr Arena.

Taking a number and waiting their turn to die... I mean fight in the arena, they happen to casually notice how Dwendahl obtains his supply of rare meats.

"Six-forty-two!" calls the gatekeeper for the arena, and our heroes are stepping out onto the baked earth floor of the center of the Ashtakahr Arena. Not exactly a capacity crowd, but a typical day's attendance for the run-of-the-mill daily battles that take place here. In the aisles of the arena, cashiers take wagers on the outcome of the battle about to commence. When six stringy goblins are pushed out onto the arena from the side opposite the heroes, wagering gets a bit more lively.

Waving arrogantly to the assembled crowd, Throm steps forward and skewers the ground with his sword. Leaving the sword standing, he draws out his sling. From across the arena the goblins approach. Running out ahead of the others, one of the goblins hurls a javlin and inflicts some very minor damage upon Throm, then turns to run back to the others. As he flees, our valliant librarian uses his own sling and nails the fleeing goblin in the back of the head scoring the first strike against the goblins.

As a group, the goblins close upon our heroes and things get messy. Throm drops his sling and pulls his sword from the ground. Our heroes quickly learn that Daeorian goblins seem to run a little tougher and bigger than the breed they are accustomed to seeing on their home worlds. When the blades stop swinging the goblins all lay dead upon the field. The brave librarian lay unconscious and near death in need of immediate healing. Surviving, but only barely, our heroes limp from the floor of the arena bloodied and bruised, but alive. Dwendahl's cart rumbles past them to collect the bodies from the arena floor. [The PCs are awarded xxx XP each for not getting killed in this battle.]

Deciding that a cheap inn and tavern at which to eat and rest is their best choice, the intrepid band heads to the poor part of town to the northwest. After a few of miles of tiresome treading, they chance upon the Crippled Goblin tavern. After injudiciously tossing around more gold than was prudent, Throm buys food and lodging for the troup for the evening.

Later that night, three visitors looking for a little more of Throm's gold pay a stealthy visit. The ensuing confrontation isn't exciting enough to relate here. Suffice it to say that Throm keeps his gold and gains three somewhat used swords which he trades for leather armor and a scimitar for Matt the next day.[The PCs are awarded xxx XP each for this fight.]

Giving thought to their long-term interests, the heroes decide to obtain a Writ of Passage from Battlemaster Glen (of the Arena) to catch and retrieve beasts for sport in the arean. With this letter they hope to exit the walled and gated city with minimal harassment by the city guard.

After obtaining their writ, chaos errupts at the arena. Patrons in the stands scream in terror as an enormous shadow passes over the crowds in the arena. Frozen in terror, all look on as a huge, white dragon measuring over two hundred feet from nose to tail lands with a ground-shuddering thud in the middle of the arena floor. Standing tall with his wings spread wide as he revels in the terror and admiration of his subjects, the legendary tyrant, Xoxenphetapothylis, stands before all. Even the battle-hardened Glen is frozen in stark terror.

Satisfied with the crowd's reverence and fear, Xox once again takes to the sky and returns toward the north.

 End of Session