View Full Version : Spearpoint

05-25-2013, 08:42 PM
I currently have two players and we're running a mostly urban campaign, but I'd like four to six players for an epic homebrew campaign that I've designed. We'll see where we end up, but the urban campaign will certainly tide us over until a full group is assembled. Some details:

Moon Lake area (No, not that part of it - the nice part.)
Non-smoking house (The lanai is immediately adjacent to the gaming table if you need a smoke break.)
One peaceful old dog (FYI, just in case you have allergies.)
Light drinking (No one gets drunk.)
Two forty-somethings and one thirty-something at the moment (Mature gamers are preferred.)
Every other Friday from seven until midnight or every other Saturday from six until midnight (Depending on what works best for the majority.)

Let me know what questions you have - messaging me will probably get my attention faster than a post.

05-25-2013, 08:49 PM
This was the initial lead-in for our last attempt:


The priests' calendar says that the 8th day in the Absorption of Blooming falls in spring, but you wouldn't know it from the weather today. A sticky wet snow is falling from leaden skies and the Great North Road is covered with slush - the temperature today is unfortunately just above freezing - and the slush is rapidly turning into mud as the feet and hooves and wheels of passing traffic churn the surface of the road into a quagmire of epic proportions. You, however, are smarter than those fools struggling along the road, or at least not in as much of a hurry. The common room of the Blooming Rose Border Inn is cozy and warm, the ale is cold, and you just can't seem to summon the motivation to resume your journey.

Border inns are, as the name implies, located on borders - specifically the borders between counties. (The Blooming Rose lies between Vadone and Kolare.) Each functions not only as an inn, but also as a tollhouse. The innkeeper is forgiven all taxes on his business in exchange for supporting the tollhouse garrison of three (for a minor road) or six (for a major road like this one). Travelers entering a county are charged a toll for the use of the road, customarily a penny for every pair of feet, hooves, and wheels. Merchants are also charged a tax on the value of their trade goods. Evading the tollhouse is a good way to earn a stay in the stocks, but you paid your toll before entering the inn as is customary.

You're not alone in the common room, of course. There are a few other souls scattered about the room with their own mugs and weather-induced lethargy. The old man in the corner is asleep and quite frankly looks like he's been gathering dust there for some time. The elf in her elegantly-decorated armor is more alert (and prettier to boot); she's in deep conversation with her traveling companion, another female whose elven features lack the angularity and refinement of a true elf. She must be a half-elf and is likely more at home under the trees than a roof if her well-worn traveling clothes and greenbrown cloak are any indication.

Greenbrown cloaks are fairly common among foresters and hunters of all stripes. Dyed in patches of green and brown, the cloaks are a boon to those who need or want to blend into their woodland surroundings.

Sitting across the room (just about as far as he can get from the elf-blooded) is a hulking orc. While not uncommon is the northern counties near the Chaleo Hills, orcs are still a somewhat rare sight in a border inn. This one lacks the savage look of most orcs; his armor and weapons are clean and well-maintained and adorned with far fewer bones, feathers, and teeth than you'd expect. His mane is of a respectable length as the orcs measure such things, so presumably he knows how to use those weapons, too.

Most orcs in the Chaleo Hills are tribal savages, but some few are more civilized and earn their keep in the kingdom proper, most often as mercenaries. Savage or civilized, no orc ever cuts his mane unless he is defeated in battle (much like no dwarf ever cuts his beard).

The cook is puttering about in the kitchen, the innkeeper is laconically wiping down the bar, and the toll garrison are outside in the snow earning their pay while a merchant with three carts quibbles with their sergeant over the exact worth of his merchandise. All in all, it looks like a dull morning is about to turn into a dull afternoon…