23rd February 2022

It's a Wednesday evening and we're round Simon's in Woking for the next session of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

The company had taken an uneventful journey to Camelot Castle, tasked with travelling to the village named Spindleston to investigate the appearance of a mysterious creature and their road took them through the famous stronghold.
More than its name suggested; Camelot Castle contained within the reach of its immensely thick alabaster stone walls, battlements and imposing towers a city known for its bright gleaming architecture, said by some to be lined with gold.

On their approach, the company had been awed to view Camelot’s tall ivory and glittering spires painted crimson by the day’s dying light as they loomed over a gloaming horizon and upon closing in, they had spied colourful pennants fluttering briskly on a stiff breeze against the reddening hue while Arthur’s own device hung from the tallest pole. Carrying message of their mission gave the company unimpeded entry into the city.
Passing under the colossal gatehouse led them along one of the city’s main paved white-stone thoroughfares and equally white buildings. Despite this pale lustre, the even-shadows grew longer over the brilliance that surrounded the company, casting a strangely glum pall over the otherwise gleaming city. Local folk and passerbys shifted their ways along nervously, the glint of suspicion marked out their eyes while numerous armed patrols, well armed with sword, decorated shield and tabard marched the avenues and streets diligently with a grim-eyed countenance to their faces. No amount of architectural brightness could conceal the air of gloom that hung over Camelot
The company’s way eventually led them to Camelot’s formidable, tall-walled inner keep, again their task granted them swift access through iron-shod gates into the interior.

Met by the seneschal and led through polished, curving corridors decorated with shields and various paintings to their guest chambers, the company rested a little and refreshed themselves. From their vantage they watched night blanketing Camelot City, waking a swathe of glittering lights along the streets and throughout the towers.
Later, the company was given an audience with King Arthur and invited to supper in his feasting hall. An enormous chamber, its walls were decorated with ornaments and the prizes of hunting and war, a raging fireplace bathed the room an orange glow while keeping the chill of night at bay. The company was seated at a heavy, ancient looking oak table resplendent with roasted meats, pies, bread and mead.

The company’s task was discussed at length with Arthur who while in his youth, exuded the tired worriness that came with the experience of many seasons.
A man not given to social niceties, King Arthur spoke frankly with the company and admitted to knowing of their quest, having relayed the information itself to the Iron Hawks some days ago. Arthur continued; following a two day hike from Spindleston a commoner had come into Camelot with talk of a Princess Margaret and Prince Dinadan going missing. This had been three weeks ago.
Princess Margaret was known to the king, being the daughter of an ally - King Mark of Norhaut. Word had reached Arthur of a calamity striking at the heart of Norhaut but details were fleeting.
Regardless of this, King Arthur wished the company to continue their investigation into the events at Spindleston. Talk continued into the night until the company retired.

The dawn, quiet and cool, had come as the company exited Camelot Castle’s great walls and rows of parapets, under an arching cerulean sky punctuated with drifting cotton-white cumulus clouds.
They made good time on the first leg of their two day journey and soon enough, the castle with its soaring spires and bright pennants had receded over the horizon. The company now found themselves travelling a wilderness as the trail took them beyond the various farmsteads that dotted agrarian plains which surrounded the castle and over a low rolling verdant landscape while skirting uninviting shadowy forest and babbling stream that glittered in the unfettered sunshine.
Shadows were at their shortest while the sun sat at its zenith when cheerful pipe music came floating on the air! Emerging from a nearby, dense, woody copse came a diminutive, lithe figure - a fairy!
The lithe figure was twinkle-eyed, displaying a sharp bent to their smile when they proposed playing the company a merry tune for but a gold piece. It seemed a hefty price but nonetheless, the company - suspecting some trickery - flipped him a coin and he did indeed pipe out a song as sunny as the day to entertain the company before they continued.
Travelling until dusk, the company made for the indistinct outline of a settlement they had spotted against the sky's failing reddish light. They found a remote farmstead whose occupants were happy enough to allow the company to sleep the night in their haybarn.

Another cool morning followed as the company departed. A blazing sun rising into the clear blue sky drove away dawn’s early chill as they rode deeper into the wild. The low undulating grassland that had marked out the previous day continued and soon all visible signs of civilization were swallowed by the tall, rippling stretches.
Traffic on the trail was nonexistent or at least was until the company encountered a mushroom hunter: This old woman with a wrinkled, ruddy complexion and straying grey hair carried a wicker basket brimming with all sorts of fungi and mushroom on one arm, flagging the company down with an energetic wave and yells as she hobbled from a ditch at the trailside.
Eager for company it seemed, the old woman explained that she lived in a hut some miles from Spindleston and made talk of The Copperwood, the forest that bordered the village, calling it an ancient place and warning the company of a monstrous wolf known as The Gwyllgi which at night, prowled the grounds surrounding ‘The Whistler, a gigantic standing stone said to consist entirely of jet. She also warned them of some scaled beast of sorts that had recently emerged and tended to linger in the depths of forest’s gloomy dells.
Finally, the old woman provided each of the company with a fat, red-coloured toadstool which she explained, when eaten could confer health on the eater.
A cursory examination from Hobard revealed that they would require cooking to sufficiently prepare the toadstools.
Trefor though, had already foolishly eaten his toadstool and the effect was almost immediate. Soon after we had bid the old woman good day, he found himself, while riding, vomiting noisily and worse. This would intermittently continue for the remainder of the day.

Later that day Trefor still did not have his retching under control and had been reduced to a miserable dry-heaving wreck as the company rode through the afternoon.
His predicament’s grim comedy had been almost enough to distract the company from the vicious attack of a bugbear that came lunging from a spread of dense thickets that flourished close to the trail. It charged, a twisted rage-filled countenance writ across its face.
To Hobard’s honed ranger’s eye  it was apparent the beast was clearly emaciated, he was quick to pull a ration from his haversack and lobbed in at the starving creature. It was enough to distract the bugbear, allowing the company to gallop on briskly, avoiding its ire.

The day’s heat was subsiding as lengthy shadows began sliding across the ground when the company encountered a wide but shallow river and further along its gnarly, grassy banks they spotted a distant, dark smear across the backdrop of foreboding forest - distant Spindleston village and beyond that, The Copperwood. Canting along the rapid, gurgling waters the company soon found themselves at the settlement’s outskirts.

A clamorous din welcomed them, numerous energetic voices and whoops of laughter mingled with the clang of clashing steel and a harsh, loud commanding voice. Spindleston bustled despite its small size and while riding through walled gates, the company found themselves in a short lane that led to a busy town square. A smattering of market stalls dotted the square, along with haggling traders and customers while at one end a juggler entertained children.
Further activity caught the attention of the company. In another corner of the square a young man, bearded and square-jawed, resplendent in fine armour displaying a forceful bearing was yelling at his complete opposites; a small band of poorly equipped and ill-fitted villagers brandishing spears and implements of various sorts while responding with particular ineptitude to his shouted instructions.
Being a knight himself. Trefor recognised it for what it was: A captain drilling his new recruits  - albeit fairly poor looking ones.

Trefor approached this captain who identified himself as Sir Dinadan! He went on to explain that he was preparing his men for an incursion into The Copperwood on the next morning where they would attempt to vanquish the wyrm which was said to prowl the forest’s gloomy, sunstarved boundaries.

Sir Dinadan went on to explain that Princess Margaret, his bride to be and he had recently reached Spindleston. Weeks past, Margaret had been cursed by her step-mother Behoc, put into a malevolent week-long deep sleep prior to their wedding by means of poisoning. Before Margaret woke, Norhaut was attacked and fell into the clutches of Mordred and Margaret’s father, King Mark slain by The Black lance. Barely managing to rescue Margaret, the pair fled, travelling for weeks before crossing the border into the protective sanctuary provided by Camelot.
They planned to rest for a time as their coin was dwindling but then Margaret had gone missing three weeks ago. Soon after, whispered words spreading throughout Spindleston had begun speaking of a wyrm, a monstrous creature which had spotted deep within The Copperwood.
Dinadan admitted he had been driven near mad with worry that Margaret has been eaten by such a monster and has now recruited some locals with what little coin he still has in his possession and plans to find and slay the dangerous beast.
Trefor explained that the company had been tasked with investigating The Copperwood and the wyrm, they could provide aid to Sir Dinadan. The knight seemed taciturnly satisfied with this and the company bid him good luck and good day before looking for lodgings.

The company continued on and found signage for The Pooka - a pub nestling among a row of homes in Spindleston: Its weatherworn sign creaking on an old post outside a limestone brick building.
Before entering, the company diverted to the village stables. There they found a youngish burly man with tight sandy coloured curls. Introducing himself as Jevan, he was the stablemaster and was willing to stable the company’s horses. While dismounting, Hobard couldn’t help but notice the despondent countenance on Jevan’s face.
Jevan explained that while in The Copperwood he had lost his wedding ring which greatly upset his wife and was now forced to sleep in the stable until it was recovered. While in the forest, Jevan had also found ‘Brinny’, stroking the mane of an already stabled but skittish, speckled grey horse, Jevan said he was a ‘friendly but strange pony’ who spent the hours of night staring out into some distant dark place outside the walls of Spindleston.

Entering The Pooka, the company found it to be a homely place that smelt of spilt beer and old oak, a faint smokey pall lingered below the exposed rafters while a stuffed fireplace crackled energetically, spreading a comfortable warmth throughout the common room while a handful of patrons conversed cheerfully. Among their number was a slim woman strumming a well made, silver inlaid harp and whose flame hair matched the fiery tongues of flame that flickered at the hearth. Her fingers plucked at the strings casually as she watched the company enter.
The company was enthusiastically greeted by the barkeep, a rotund man with a pronounced limp and who sported an enormous bristling grey mustache on a rosy cheeked, corpulent face.
The company exchanged coin for lodging and made small talk, which turned to The Copperwood and to the wyrm. At that, the barkeep’s face darkened. Quietly he told the company that he was desperate; his two children had gone missing, taken by the monster he believed and would willingly pay sixty gold coins to anyone who returned them.
It transpired that the barkeep’s opinion was not shared by the flame-haired harpist - the bard known as Laudine who had overheard the barkeep’s words, Laudine believed the wyrm was simply a beast from the wilds beyond Spindleston and any malicious behaviour it displayed must be the work of foul witchcraft.

Later, once the shroud of dusk had settled upon Spindleston, Hobard walked the now quiet and unlit streets to the stables. Jevan’s talk of the strange horse had piqued his interest and he sought to learn more.
Hobard found that Jevan had not bed down for the night and the stables were currently empty save for the horses. He approached Brinny and could see the horse was staring out beyond Spindleston. Something about the horse’s eyes did not sit well with the ranger and he intensely scrutinised them.
Abruptly, the eyes appeared to lighten from chestnut to ochre and somehow become rounder. Then where once stood tall Brinny the horse was a small hare at the bottom of the stall!

The hare stared at Hobard for but a moment with those disquietingly intelligent eyes before bounding powerfully out of the stall. Hobard gave chase as the hare streaked out of Spindlestone and towards The Copperwood. The inky gloom of the day’s failing light enveloping Hobard and the indistinct, irregular lights of the village grew distant, soon he lost sight of the hare as it entered the forest’s murky treeline.
Frustrated, he marched back to The Pooka, telling the incredulous others of his strange encounter.

With little that could be done during the onset of night, the company ate and drank for a while before retiring for the night.

14th October 2021

It's a Thursday and we're at Simon's. It's time for the next episode of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

​Location: The Pits

Yelling loudly, the company had raucously charged into the fray, weapons swinging: They had earlier found themselves within the confines of the tall stone walls that ringed Hykaria’s gladiatorial pits during illicit midnight combats and gambling. Infiltrating the rambunctious betting crowd, they were content to observe the situation for a time.
But matters had changed. 

The objective of their task; the disguised woman ‘Georgina’ had been dragged through a door and into one of the pits. She was nervously eying her surroundings when moments later, the opposite door slid open, a pair of bugbears came lumbering out of the darkness beyond and were released on her. With no time to lose the company realised, they gripped weapons and advanced on the pit while the hollering crowd reeled back at this sudden show of force The company pushed through and slid into it.
Hobard and Titus closed on the bugbears, the monstrous creatures with their strange snarling visages rounded on the pair, muscle squirmed beneath filthy matted fur as they lunged in response.
Above, a thunderous cheer issued forth from the baying crowd as the combatants met.

While battle was joined; Trefor had other ideas, as blows were exchanged he sidled up to the pit wall, slipping round the fight he unstoppered a small darkly coloured vial which he had pulled from the folds of his robe, downed it and grasped ‘George’.
The concoction had been a potion of flight: With unearthly movement, Trefor sped upwards becoming a murky shadow against the night’s starry patterns while gripping Georgina who gave a gasp of terror and struggled, limbs flaying erratically. Despite this protestation, Trefor steadfastly kept his grip on her as the others watched the pair move smoothly beyond the looming walls of the arena, swallowed by enveloping gloom.

Fighting continued, Titus had felled a bugbear to the mob’s approval while Garfield looked for a way out, as well as a manner to distract the mob.
Uttering an enchantment, a spell issued from Garfield, a number of the patrons were knocked into the pit! They sprawled across the hay and dirt covered floor, writhing in fear.
More blows were exchanged and soon Titus had dispatched the other monster, the yelling intensified. Titus was jubilant, raising fists to the glittering velvet-black sky while roaring his victorious demand for a prize. Coins rained, Titus went scrabbling for his reward.

Despite their martial success, Titus, Hobart and Garfield knew that their appearance would have raised suspicion, no doubt someone had gone yelling to the guard and they would soon come running.
The trio beat a hasty retreat, retreading the empty corridors with their sets of doors, into the windowless, dark study, down through glum unlit tunnels and on to the dim city streets licked by crimson light. Behind the silhouetted eastern skyline a thin rosy golden nimbus announced the arrival of dawn.

If any resident of Hykaria had been prowling those silent streets in the small hours, few would have thought of looking skyward. Thus it was that Trefor with Georgina in tow had passed over the lonely broad avenues of the city unseen. His robes fluttered slowly as the paved road rose up to meet his landing. Although still wide-eyed, Georgina had regained her wits, realising that Trefor was one to be trusted.
From there, he led her in a roundabout way through the latticework of shady alleys and backstreets that criss-crossed Hykaria to Joan’s safehouse and waited for his companions.
Elated greetings were exchanged by the reunited Joan and Georgina. For a while they spoke energetically until the exhausted Georgina retired.

​Short was Trefor’s wait fortunately, long morning shadows had begun to span the morning streets when the other trio regrouped at the safehouse.
Before the company could consider celebration, Joan appeared, telling them that their help was still needed - and without delay!

The company was to join one Prince Dinadan at some village called Spindleton. Then they would search for ‘the artefact’, some mysterious, possibly magical contraption. Joan then told them, it was suspected that it was in the possession of a dragon!

8th September 2021

It's a Wednesday evening and we're round Simon's for the next part of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

​Garfield Greenfingers - Played by Steven
This former owner of an apothecary with an affinity for the esoteric arts and knowledge of the supernatural had joined the company. 

​Location: The Pit

The company had found themselves in the maze of brickwork tunnels that sprawled beneath Hykaria city, eventually leading them below some sort of manhole cover and to their destination. Made of iron, the manhole cover was heavy, Trefor had to exert himself to lift it.
Upon clambering out, the company’s dim wavering light revealed what appeared to be a windowless study.
The smell of old paper distinctly emanated from a wall of books, row upon row of mutely coloured spines on a myriad of subjects could be seen glumly lit on the shelving. Central in the room was a sturdy looking table of polished oak while flush against one side was a small and apparently unused bureau. Hanging from a wall hook was a thick woollen cloak decorated with clearly royal heraldry.
Beyond the room, the company could hear muffled, indistinguishable noises.

Searching the books revealed a series of ledgers documenting detailed listings of fights which had taken place in the pits as well as their participants. Further searching revealed details of ‘George’, the date of their arrival at the pits and where they were being held captive.
The company knew this was the pseudonym of Georgina, whom they had been tasked with rescuing from the pits.
Continued rummaging through the bureau found a ream of loose vellum letterheaded sheets and a wax stamp. The leafs were blank save for one among them which spoke vaguely of the indiscretions of some unnamed nobleman.

With nothing else to be found in this chamber, the company exited and found themselves in an empty gently curving grey-painted brick corridor lined with doors. One stood out among them; a larger, bulkier door.
Through the large door was a curiously long room and equally empty room. Running along one wall was a series of wooden booths. They were, the company surmised, some sort of gambling booths, no doubt used during the pit fights.
Returning to the corridor, the company continued searching.

While they went on, the dull, distant, muffled growl of a roaring crowd could be heard.
No fights would be scheduled for this hour as the company knew? No gambling either, the booths were unoccupied.
The company travelled the corridor, following the noise. It led past all other doors, eventually sloping downwards. Unveiling into a wider, wider space. It was a circular roofless room with the starry dome of night providing a ceiling. Carpeted in a layer of dirt, the circular space was populated with numerous pits. A mob of perhaps a hundred had congregated around one such pit. Bustling and hollering, the well-appointed crowd was entirely fixated on whatever was occurring in that pit.
As the company approached, they saw coin changing hands. Illicit combats and gambling were underway. Cautiously, they managed to insinuate themselves into the crowd and bustle to the pit. It was hosting a fight!
Below, a man displaying several bloody streaks through rips in clothing and brandishing a sword was ruggedly battling some vicious bearlike creature which sported a bizarre visage. It was, Garfield told them, a bugbear. The company had heard tales of such creatures, baleful, malignant and hateful of man.
As the fight continued, so did the gambling. Soon though, fortune favoured the man who managed to land the bugbear a telling blow - it was defeated. A cheer broke out of the gathered crowd.
Without delay, a heavy looking door in the side of the pit swung open, the man was led out and in his place came a smallish, thin man, slight of build. He was introduced as ‘George’.
From a second door, a pair of bugbears were pushed out. This would be a much harder fight.

It was then that the company chose to interfere. 

11th August 2021

It's a Wednesday and we're round Simon's for the 3rd session of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land TTRPG.

​Location: Hykaria - Ascalon

Hykaria; Ascalon’s vibrant capital, well known for its industrious sea trade and commerce, sat upon a glittering coastline and was the jewel of The Summerland, the city welcomed a cosmopolitan population behind its resolute walls and soaring alabaster towers that watched over a sun-soaked ocean approach.

Narrow, shady alleyways cut through urban and mercantile neighbourhoods, criss-crossing wide thrumming white-paved avenues that ran the length of the capital and in one such shady alley was ‘The Hairy Fig’, a grimy wood and dirty glass fronted inn that nestled in an out of the way cobblestoned courtyard through an old archway.
It was here Colan, Titus, Trefor and Hobard had found themselves for the past week, nursing cheap beers in the small inn while sat at worn, old oak tables in a smoky common room poorly lit by dusty slats of weak light that streamed through shutters and was populated by perpetually inebriated patrons who scoured at distrusted outsiders.

While pondering their next action, our company was approached by a woman of middling years with drab brown hair, in a grey woollen frock, a look of  recognition across her face.
Introducing herself as Joan, she explained that the company had once in the past helped a friend of hers and now she went on, it was she who needed help.

Joan continued; Georgina was a friend of hers and had been taken to the ‘battle pits’ and was due to fight in four days. 

The battle pits were known to the company.
Extensive use of the battle pits were made by King Vortimer as harsh punishment; forcing criminals to fight to the death. The barbarism was a popular form of paid entertainment among the elite class of Hykaria who found it sufficiently cruel to slake their baying taste for blood.
The entire affair was managed by the king’s own gold cloaked guards.

Joan went on: Georgina, disguised as ‘George’ had been caught stealing some documentation from the residence of Baronet Philip, a distant cousin of Vortimer and considered to be minor royalty.
George had been accused of stealing information with the intent of harming the city and then slung into the pits.

Intrigued, the company agreed to help Joan.

​The task would require some degrees of subtlety, Joan explained. It would be wise to avoid the watch, she added.
For some time, the company and Joan waited. The gloomy mote filled sunlight that lit the common room lessened before fading altogether as day darkened, replaced by tallow candle light.
Only then did they vacate The Hairy Fig when night had settled over Hykaria They headed into dimly lit streets draped in the blanket of night which were mostly empty, only the bars and major thoroughfares presented any activity which the company deftly circumvented.
The battle pits’ venue was well known to most but more importantly; the location of the holding cells were known to Joan.
She took the company closer to the capital’s centre and as they strode in, they saw spluttering fiery braziers give way to gas lighting which in turn eventually gave way to magical lighting!
Their journey ended in some tightly clustered neighbourhood of timber-framed townhouses that gave the appearance of leaning over them.

Behind shutters, a hundred eyes seemed to pierce the company as Joan gave a coded knock at one particular door while they waited. Swiftly, it swung open, she entered and equally swiftly it shut. The company was alone.
Two minutes and the door opened again, the company was waved in by an old man dressed in some sort of nightgown, consternation written in the creases which decorated the face of his balding visage.
Geis was his name, Joan told the company and he could get them into the pits. Geis warned them that their task would be a dangerous one.

​Once Geis had dressed and pulled on a smock and boots, he led Joan and the company into a twisting warren of narrow and mostly unlit alleys, the moon was nearing its zenith in a cloudless starry sky as they reached a large rust-licked iron disc embedded in the paved ground at a junction.
The company knew enough of cities to know this was a manhole cover that would lead to Kykaria’s sewage network.

With some effort and the correct tools, the manhole cover was wrenched open with a metallic screech.
The company was surprised to find no smell emanating from the opened way. Before they descended, Geis handed a piece of vellum to Joan who in return nodded.

​To the surprise of the company, the tunnel was exceptionally well constructed and was both wide and free of effluence. Whatever this tunnel was, it was not connected to the sewers, at least not directly.
Trefor uttered the words of a blessing and gesticulated, a soft but cold light radiated from his hand. The company marched onwards.

The tunnel led the company north-west, various branches and junctions materialised out of the darkness ahead, branching off into darkness. Joan ignored them, seeming to know her way. For ten minutes they marched without incident; then they saw glittering eyes in Trefor’s light, malevolently staring at them.

Rats were ahead, enormous ones too, which also had little fear of man. With animalistic pace the rats lunged. It was a short fight though, enormous or not, the rats could not withstand the onslaught of the company and soon they were defeated.

Pressing on, the company soon encountered the sprawled remains of some poor solitary soul who had not fared so well against the vermin.
Dead for some time, the cadaver had in part been consumed and what remained had decomposed beyond recognition. Even so, the company could identify the torn uniform of the city watch on the dead man. Whatever had possessed the soldier to enter these tunnels?
With little else of interest, the company continued, soon stopping at what Joan told them; was their destination.
A ladder led an iron manhole above.

Trefor climbed up and with a laborious grunt managed to lift and slide the heavy disc aside a little from his precarious position. Beyond the cover, it was unlit.
Peering inside, Hobard could make out the carved wooden legs, a table directly above the manhole. Further on, he could see some sort of bookcase lined with tomes. Was this some sort of workroom, Hobard thought.

To be continued.

22nd July 2021

It's a Thursday and we're round Simon's for session 2 of Matt's Romance of The Perilous Land game.

​Location: Trapdoor at Gregory’s farm, Millet Town

Steps had been carved from very the earth and topped with packed stone, gloomily spiralled downwards into the corner of a small man-made chamber of stone lined walls fitted with sconces of dulled ancient iron that barely glimmered in the light of Trefor’s petty-magic spell.
A grim, putrid nearly vomit-inducing odour lingered in the air here while the sharp chatter of running water reverberated across the walls.
Trefor, Titus, Colan and Hobard stiffened their resolve: A brief search revealed the chamber was featureless, save for a pair of unlit corridors in the southern half of the room that ran east and west. The company was presented with two exits.

The west path was chosen. Shadows evaporated before their light as the company advanced with weapons drawn. They soon found themselves in a short snaking tunnel of unexpected corners materialising out of the dark, all the while the sickly sweet smell of rot only intensified.
The tunnel finally turned south and opened into the north-east corner of another stone walled but evenly floored room.

At the limits of their light, the company could see shifting murky colours ahead; something was moving. The company stepped into the room, revealing a body slumped against the far wall, a moment of realisation passed when they realised it was a corpse, then they saw the source of movement.
Alongside the corpse were two diminutive hunched figures, they appeared to be gnawing at the remains. Their clothing was tattered and muted but adorning their heads were caps the hue of glistening gore; redcaps - murderous imps.
The light had drawn the redcaps’ ire, they span to face the company, eyes glittering like coals while threatening hisses split their malevolent smiles, revealing sharp, stained teeth. Unhesitatingly, the redcaps lunged to attack.
The company was quick to respond and the clash was joined. The redcaps lacked numbers to truly threaten the company and quickly fell to the companys’ attacks.

With the redcaps dispatched, the company approached the body.
The unfortunate man had not long been dead, surmised Trefor, meeting his demise a day, perhaps two ago. By the looks of it; a trader dressed in traveller’s garb, he must have been snatched from the road that passed Millet Town.
Despite the stink, the company searched the room.
Scattered throughout the room was detritus of another age, patches of shattered glassware, crumpled and splintered boxes littered the floor. Dust coated grimy jars and boxes sat on old sagging shelves while timeworn crates and ancient barrels were piled in one corner. Whatever they might have contained was long gone.
On the trader’s remains, they found some coins and garments.

No exits were visible in this room. The company doubled-back and followed the easterly tunnel from the first chamber into more darkness. Soon, it too turned south before a small tunnel branched to the east.
As the company went along the east branch, the stench of rot persisted and ended in a square chamber. Revealed were four old, dismal wooden sleeping cots with stained, discoloured blankets strewn atop.
Gathered round a barrel were three more redcaps. Upon seeing the company, they did not hesitate in attacking..
Another short battle ensued, blows were exchanged but the redcaps lacked the strength to withstand the attacks of Colan and Hobard, quickly being hewed down.

The barrel which had held the attention of the redcaps was filled with offal! Otherwise, there was little to be found in this save for the curious jars that dotted the stone floor. There were four, each filled with a liquid of differing colour; blue, brown, purple and yellow.
Trefor examined them, he was quite sure three of them were laced with magic while the yellow was not, he was sure the purple liquid was a potion of flight. The others he could not discern.

Titus grabbed the brown potion, unstoppering it. A mossy aroma wafted to his nose, it was not enough to deter him from drinking it. For a moment Titus seemed to convulse, twisting strangely, then he was gone?
No, not gone. Instead where he had been now stood a rat starting up at us with a rodent look of surprise on his face! Gone was Titus the Munchkin, here was Titus the Tiny!
“Transformation potion,” Trefor uttered with surprise, startled to see such potent magic in this place.
Colan meanwhile, had taken the blue potion. Despite smelling of sewer water, he did not hesitate in swallowing it. He too vanished, or at least in the eyes of the others he had done so!
Colan however, was still in the room! The liquid had genuinely rendered him invisible. Unfortunately, the effect did not linger and soon, he impossibly materialised out of thin air in view of the rest of the company.
Undeterred, Colan immediately drank the brown potion and immediately regretted it! Poison now ran through Colan’s veins. Wracked with pain, he bent double.Fortunately, his considerable constitution allowed him to weather the effect.
Once Titus had reverted to normal and Colan had recovered. The company walked back to the branch and pressed on southwards.

Soon enough the tunnel weaved through a couple more corners and finally turned south, ending in another chamber, the stench of rot had not subsided and a pale glow radiated through the doorway ahead, the gargling of water was even louder.

Silently, Titus crept ahead.
Outlined in dim light he caught sight of an old woman surrounded by a circle of what Titus recognised to be bone charms while coming into sight were three more redcaps, this time dragging a number of chickens, while one was casually gnawing on a mannish arm.
Stooped low, the old woman’s sinewy, slender claw-like hands clutched the carcass of a pig while grey-black hair draped over a filthy grey voluminous shawl, half hiding an ancient wrinkled face. Her head tilted a notch, revealing a glistening thick smear of blood that coated the lower half of her decrepit creased face, she was consuming the pig raw!
Without hesitation, Titus darted forward pulling free his sword and leaping mightily, he bounded across the redcaps’ heads and flung himself in a flying attack at the crone.
With speed that belied her aged appearance and with a whirl of clothing, she vacated the spot of Titus’ attack, who proceeded to crash in a heap on the hard ground.
Taking advantage, the redcaps pounced on him in a cacophony of snarling hisses.
Unprepared for Titus’ sudden attack, the others had to gather their wits and charge into the fight. They laid into the crone and redcaps while Titus recomposed himself.
A ferocious opponent, the crone fought hard and it was a desperate fight, after sustained attack though, she, and the redcaps were dispatched. Titus had borne the worst of it, taking serious injuries and barely able to stand.
Once Titus had been seen to, the company took stock of the situation.

Trefor’s light was caught on noisily moving waters, glittering on a thousand undulating spots. A vigorously flowing stream ran the entire length of the chamber’s southern wall.
Debris and animal remains were scattered haphazardly across the floor. there was nothing else of note in the room.
The company tested the stream’s cold waters, it did not seem too deep nor too strong a current. Steeling themselves, they waded downstream.
Laboriously, the company advanced through the dark tunnel and a while later, a faint speck of light appeared ahead. As the company pressed forward, the speck steadily grew, becoming an exit out of a hillside and under a starry night.

Freed of its subterranean constraints, the stream widened into a slower moving and shallower river. Under the night sky, the dark watery ribbon ran its course, the company continued following.

A while later, they came to an abrupt meander in the river. It was here they spied jutting out of the earthy bank a bar which had accumulated the river’s flotsam. The company could see numerous bones amongst the detritus. No doubt the gruesome remains of the crone’s victims; casually discarded by her into the waters.
Grimly, they searched the macabre collection of what were human bones which clearly came from more than a single person. 
Amongst them they found sogged torn garments that matched the description given of Martin Morden’s clothes.
The unfortunate farmhand had met his demise at the hands of the crone.

​The faintest haze of a rosy sunrise was beginning to permeate the horizon east of the river: A few hours and it would be noon and then, Everdene’s hanging would be performed.
With no time to waste, the company backtracked, returning upstream and into the underground rooms. From there they hauled the crone’s body up the steps into Farmer Gregory’s barn.
As is the way with farmers, Gregory was already up and attending his duties in the predawn, he was shocked to see the company lugging their evidence across his yard and into the town square

Soon, dawn had roused the folk of Millet Town, at the sight of the crone’s grisly remains they congregated in the square. In the growing morning sunlight, it seemed the crone might once have been human. Martin’s mother was among them and seeing that Martin was not among the company, the realisation crept on her that he was dead at the hands of the crone. Sobbing, she collapsed.

The townsfolk, now having learnt the crone was responsible for Martin’s end and perhaps other mysteries suffered by Millet Town shifted their swelling outrage on to Squire Rulf. It was he who had wanted to put the cause of all this on to Everdene. Wanting her hanged.
News quickly reached Rulf’s manor and he was forced to come and view the situation in person.
A murmuring discontent rippled through the gathered people as Rulf came into view, striding into the square. Upon seeing the evidence with his own eyes and also viewing the crowd’s mood, he begrudgingly acknowledged the innocence of Everdene and had her released forthwith before hastily retreating back to his manor.
“I knew it!” Madeline shouted emphatically from within the crowd.
Fortunately for Rulf, much of the town’s anger against him had dissipated.

​Midday and the company found themselves settled into The Crossed Gates, feet pointed towards the crackling hearth and with drinks in hand when Everdene approached them. The weariness the company had noted in her voice yesterday was absent, replaced by an upbeat demeanour. Evedene had learned the role they’d played in her release, thanked them and asked if there was any way she could provide them assistance while also gifting them several potions.

Trefor spoke with Everdene at length, they exchanged words of esoteric knowledge as he sought her understanding of healing skills, looking for a cure for the Fisher King. None was forthcoming though, such a thing was beyond Everdene.

The return to Hykaria would have to wait a day, the company was exhausted, having not yet rested and took the opportunity to sleep a night in at the inn before venturing back on to the road.

14th July 2021

It's a Wednesday evening and we're round Simon's in Woking for the first session of Romance of the Perilous Land run by Matt.

Overview
Romance of the Perilous Land (RotPL) is a traditional pen 'n' paper tabletop roleplaying game that shares DNA with OSR-adjacent The Black Hack RPG.

Like The Black Hack, RotPL is a level based roll-under-attribute d20 system. However, whereas The Black Hack is a generic D&D styled rules-light game, RotPL adds some meat to those minimalist bones in the form of backgrounds, talents and a binary skill system which plugs into the attribute rolls.
Gone also are the 4 bare-bones D&D-like character classes, replaced with 6 new classes which each also include unique class related features and are more appropriate to RotPL's setting.

Speaking of which, RotPL's setting blends together various elements of British folklore which include Arthurian mythology and Robin Hood legend into a sort of timeless prototypical Britain for the heroes to go adventuring in.
In a way it reminds me a little of the classic British RPG; Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay (WFRP), which puts it in good company in my opinion.
Both games present a pseudo-historical setting with a hidden strata of danger that runs beneath which the heroes must face, for WFRP it's chaos and for RotPL, it's the fae or supernatural for lack of a better word.

RotPL dilutes some of the rules-light purity of The Black but the payoff is that it provides a set of rules more closely aligned with an interesting setting which takes up much of the book's 250 or so pages.
Personally, I think RotPL does a good job of balancing it all. The additional rules don't feel like they add much more in the way of extra complexity (At least from the perspective of a player.) but do add some flavour to the world of Albion.

If a heroic RPG in a fantasy world that has a slightly supernaturally sinister edge to it sounds like your thing, RotPL is a worth a look.

Characters
Trefor op Llewelyn - played by Simon. This is Simon's first time playing a RPG.
This knight and former priest is allied with The Order of The Fisher King and is evasive about his ecumenical past.
Titus the Munchkin - played by Josh.
This diminutive thief and outlaw considers himself numbered among Robin Hood's merry men of Sherwood.
Colan the barbarian - played by Colin. This is also Colin's first time playing an RPG.
Hailing from an aristocratic family, this barbarian eschewed his former life to swear fealty to the Iron Hawks.
Hobard Roolf - played by yours truly.
With his previous life left in ruins, this former farmer chose to follow the codes of The Knights of The Round Table while taking to the wilderness in the vocation of a ranger.

​Location: Ascalon - The Summerland.

On glittering shores sat bustling Hykaria city, it was, with lively streets and trader-filled marketplaces Ascalon’s seat of power and home to its young King Vortimer.
Situated on a natural harbour, Hykaria’s expansive port boasted numerous sturdy jetties and docks that spanned out into the Great Sea to welcome distant seafarers from all quarters. Many a journeyer and merchant had passed through the waterfront and seagate into the busy city, their influx painting the city a multitude of cosmopolitan colours.

​Word of a practitioner of the esoteric arts in closeby Millet Town with a talent for healing had reached knightly Trefor on his travels and thus brought him into the vibrant city.
‘Such a healer might provide aid unto the Fisher King’, the knight had surmised before setting out for Millet Town.

For a while now, the roguish diminutive Titus had resided in Hykaria, stationed by The Merry Men in a house fashioned after a tree somewhat. They had learned that some innocent individual was being tried for black magic by a landowner in Millet Town.
Landowners were known throughout Albion for their dishonesty and corruption, Titus had thus been instructed by The Merry Men to investigate this landowner.

The Iron Hawks maintained a faction house in Hykaria which is where Colan The Barbarian could be found. Rumours of disappearances and an evil witch residing in local Millet Town had found its way to the faction house.
Colan was to learn the truth of this witch.

Finally, Hobard had received tell of a hanging to be executed in Millet Town from a traveller, along with stories of curses and disappearances. Hobard tasked himself with looking into the situation. 

​A single road ran the walk to Millet Town from Hykaria and it was at the limits of the city walls on a crisp, grey dawn of October seventh that four travellers found themselves treading the same path through the east gate. 
Roads could be a dangerous place in Albion and there was strength in numbers, the four agreed to accompany each other to their destination.

Morning chill faded as day wore on, autumnal sky brightening to a pale blue streaked with wispy cloud. The road - more of a well trodden track than anything else meandered along the uninhabited coastline. Foam edged and sun-sparkled waters of the Great Ocean sighed and crashed rhythmically against rocky bluffs or abandoned beaches.
On occasion, the company caught sight of the gloomy sprawling perimeter of the Ragged Woods as the road took them closer to Millet Town.

By day’s end a light rain was falling and the company had encountered a small walled hamlet of timber and stone homes nestled close to the road.
The residents were friendly enough and content to exchange news for a night’s board. Rumours had reached the hamlet that folk from Millet Town had gone missing and the company learned that the chief landowner was Squire Rulf. The company also discovered that Millet Town had a notable blacksmith named Dimia.
By dawn, the rain had spent itself and a mist enveloped morning emerged. In these quiet hours the company pressed on. The already faint road - now partially obscured by a thin carpet of fallen, slick, browning leaves - had guided the company through a subdued stretch of forest and eventually by midday opened up at a small stone bridge that marked the western outskirts of Millet Town.

The unmistakable odour of manure assailed the company as they crossed. Ahead they passed a small cluster of buildings; a house, a  shed or two perhaps, bounded by a low, dry stone wall, Chickens strutted and clucked inside the perimeter and further within was a pig sty  and a variety of other farm animals.
Soon the company found themselves on the edge of a village green densely ringed by a variety of half-timber homes, situated throughout them was a smattering of houses employed as shopfronts, including a homely looking inn.
The few townsfolk they saw gave them brief questioning sidelong glances before hurrying on their way.

​Trefor and Titus sought out the blacksmith.
Dimia was a quietly spoken woman who was happy to take a moment away from her anvil to talk to the pair. Dimia told them that someone had indeed gone missing from the town, Martin Morden was the missing boy’s name.
Dimia did not know much about Martin, he was a farmhand on Gregory’s holding and was friends with Madeline, daughter of the innkeeper.
Under the ruse of commissioning a helmet, Titus asked about the trial he’d been dispatched to investigate and Dimia confirmed that Everdene, a local woman with ‘the craft’ had been arrested by the squire for using dark magics to curse Millet Town, supposedly causing the disappearance of Martin. Everdene was set to be hanged on the morrow.
Dimia admitted that she knew little of Everdene, keeping a distance from such matters but she had heard talk rife in Millet Town that stated Everdene utilised imps to do her bidding and a few nights ago a villager was said to have seen an imp carrying a chicken, no doubt one of Gregory’s.

​Hobard meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to visit the inn. Positioned between homes, it was a smallish establishment, a weather-worn sign with faded and peeling colours depicting a pair of crossed gates hung from the old wooden frontage. Upon entering, he found it to be a cramped, gloomy affair.
Light from a spluttering fireside lit the interior in orange hues between looming shadows cast by patrons gathered about the flame’s warmth. A pall of dismal smoke clung to the low, white-painted wattle ceiling it had stained yellow over years.
Ignoring quizzical looks, Hobard handed over a few coins. took his pint to a quiet corner and while nursing it; observed.

Low murmurous chatter thrummed across the common room, Hobart caught gossip of Everdene; she had been spotted walking close to Gregory’s farm at midnight before his cattle had gone missing. A few minutes later, a one-eyed man sporting a snow coloured beard drew Hobard’s attention.
“It was fairies,” One-eye declared emphatically! Perhaps talking of the missing person.
“It’s always fairies!” Came a rebuff, rousing laughter from his companions much to One-eye’s ire.
All the while a serving girl zipped to and from customers with youthful quickness. An obvious uncomfortable restlessness across her face, Hobard noted.

​Colan, Titus and Trefor regrouped meanwhile and headed to Gregory’s farm and made for the barn.
‘A good place to hide something,’ they reasoned.
Before they got far, a dishevelled man in drab and somewhat soiled clothing burst from the doorway of the farmhouse; Gregory the farmer.
“Get off my land,” he roared, black-ringed, wild eyes darting left and right as he erratically brandished a dagger in the direction of our heroes.

The company halted and Trefor stepped forward, he spoke with a quiet yet firm demeanour, a confidence that sprang from the years of his ecumenical background and told the man that the company was no threat.
Gregory’s laboured breathing lessened, he seemed to calm, dropping the tip of his dagger to point at the ground.
While the farmer was coming to his senses, Trefor spied a line of iron filings sprinkled across the doorway’s threshold.
Once he was settled, Gregory was happy to tell the company what he knew. 
A week ago, Gregory’s chickens began to go missing, he initially believed this was down to foxes and went to Dimia. He bought traps, placing them near the forest that backed on to the edge of the farmland.
The following night, two of his sheep had gone, Gregory checked the traps, they were untriggered. He had no idea what was causing it.
Rumours of fairies, imps and witches began to circulate once word had gotten out about the vanishing farm animals.
Then, Martin had gone missing. Furtive whispers spread through Millet Town and grew to become talk of Everdene the healer and dark magics, finally ending with open accusations aimed at her by Squire Rulf, who took her prisoner.
Everdene was to be hanged on the noon, tomorrow, Gregory was unsure of her guilt,
He admitted to placing the iron fillings across his door to ward malignant spirits.

​At The Inn of the Crossed Gates, Hobard had learned the proprietor’s name was Lucy and found a moment to speak with her.
Everdene was a friend of Lucy’s; the innkeeper said that she had done much good for Millet Town and did not believe she was the cause of Martin’s disappearance. Quietly she told Hobard there had been a flourishing relationship of sorts between the two which had turned sour and Rulf was left bitter by it. Lucy said Rulf’s motives could not be trusted.
Lucy did not know much about Martin, only that he had been a friend of her daughter. Madeline.

The serving girl who Hobard had seen busily working through the common room was in fact Madeline. She confirmed her friendship with Martin and had no idea why he would have vanished. Madeline also knew Everdene who she considered to be a nice woman.
When asked if she had seen anything suspicious, Madeline told Hobard that a week ago, she had seen a ‘little’ man making for Gregory’s in the small hours of night, although Madeline added, her mother had not believed her.

Everdene had been imprisoned in a small brick roundhouse with a conical slate roof. 
‘A secure place to gaol the accused’, Hobard noted as he approached, he had decided it was time to talk to the healer, having left the inn.
Alongside the door was Dain the guard who was a few summers shy from suitably filling his role and sported a steel tipped spear and ill-fitting armour.
Dain refused to grant Hobard access to Everdene but did not prevent him from speaking to the healer woman through the door.
Everdene’s voice was hoarse, thick and quiet when she spoke; Hobart imagined she was not in a particularly comfortable situation. She explained that she had lived in Millet Town for three years now and provided healing and aid to the townsfolk, Everdene was adamant that she knew nothing about any cursing or dark magic.
Everdene also freely admitted to wandering the grounds near to Gregory’s farm late at night in search of moonberries when she had seen three small strange creatures scuttling about in the night’s dim light. She did not recognise them.
Finally Hobard asked about Rulf, Everdene stated there was no relationship between the two despite Rulf’s intentions.

​It was a short walk to the darkly stained timber-reinforced wattle and daub barn on the periphery of Gregory’s holding.
Colan, Titus and Trefor were intent on inspecting it but Gregor had shaken his head, refusing to join them and returned to the confines of his house.

Motes, disturbed by the entry of the three, swirled lazily in shafts of dim light that streamed from a colourless sky. A sickly sweet aroma greeted them when they passed into the barn’s shade, it was a familiar smell; rot and decay.
For the most part, rows of hay bales, some stacked high, filled the barn while a thin carpet of wayward straw littered the floor. Some searching revealed signs of rot coming from a handful of bales along a wall. Something had been disturbed, the spot had been cleared of straw.

As Colan, Titus and Trefor approached, a noisy rustle came from some of the hay. Before they had time to consider it, a handful of large rat-like things erupted forth, regarding the company with glittering black eyes and without hesitation, lunged at them.
Fortunately, the three were not wrongfooted, brandishing weapons before being set upon. A fight ensued and the creatures were quickly dispatched.

Pausing for breath and to wipe ichorous substances from their blades, the three of them spied something close to the rotted bales, something on the floor.
Titus picked it up, turned it over in his hand and regarded it, some kind of string necklace?
The three continued searching and after pushing aside some of the rotted bales discovered a trapdoor.

​From the circular building, Hobard headed out to Squire Rulf’s home. A brisk walk that had taken him beyond the town limits and in sight of a largish house - certainly larger than any in Millet Town.
He found himself at a thickset wooden door decorated with an ornate brass knocker fashioned after a dragon motif.
After rapping on the door, a middle aged woman dressed in servant’s livery answered, opening the door a crack. She explained to Hobard that Squire Rulf was too busy to entertain visitors for the day. Telling him to come back another time.
This did not sit well with Hobard who pressed his point, telling the woman this was urgent business. She hesitated but nodded and opened the door.

The interior was well appointed - if plain and with an abundance of unremarkable fittings, furniture and decoration. Winifred - the servant woman led Hobard to a reception room and sat him down in a solid wooden chair.
Some minutes later, Squire Rulf swept into the room, a heavy set man whose somewhat fine clothing was slightly mis-sized, he flaunted a well waxed, pompously long moustache.
Welcoming Hobard with an insincere grin, he asked what business had brought Hobard here?
Hobard explained that Everdene’s predicament had caught the attention Knights of the Round Table, warranting further investigation.
Rulf’s face darkened at the mention of the healer and he took a moment considering his answer. He informed Hobard that Everdene was actually a servant of Morgana Le Fay and that he had no tolerance for users of the dark magics. The disappearance of Martin Morden was proof of her intentions and she would eventually curse the entire town.
It was not particularly convincing and Hobard pressed him for more information but Rulf was not forthcoming.
Hobard did not see any value in continuing with Rulf and took his leave.

​The Morden household could be found in Millet Town and the walk back was uneventful. Typical for a settlement such as this, the household was a small, timber framed home sat among a row of identical houses.
Hobard knocked and the door was answered by a youngish woman, whose age was belied by the lines that creased a worried, uneasy face while eyes sat in darkened sockets. It was Joan, Martin Morden’s mother.
They spoke of Martin, Joan stated that she had last seen him heading in the direction of the inn, perhaps to find Madeline.

It was then that Titus appeared, he bore the string necklace found in the bard and had come to see if Joan recognised it. She did, it had belonged to Martin.
They did not know what this meant but Titus and Hobard hastily returned to the barn.

The company had regrouped at the trapdoor in the now gloomy barn, day was dimming, soon night would be upon the town and soon after that noon tomorrow would come. It was not the time to hesitate.
The trapdoor opened easily enough, man-made steps descended into impenetrable inky blackness below, distinct but somehow distorted sounds of running water rose from the darkness below.
Trefor cast a petty spell that produced light, the company exchanged glances before wordlessly marching down the steps.


​To be continued.