D&D Campaigns > Game Log

Session 3


Charon is Greeted at the woods

The road. Such an odd thing to be traveling outside of town, much less be outside at all. By all accounts the trip to the Ironbark forest should only take a week or so. Fortunately, the sun wasn’t too hot.

The road however was dry and dusty. If it weren’t’ for your handkerchief, you were sure your throat would have been sore.

Plodding along you notice something crawling on your shoulder. You realize it’s Scurry. He must have stowed back aboard your shoe after you’d released him. He seemed to be trying to look you in the eye, as if to say “I go where you go”. After a moment, he skittered down your arm and into a pocket at your side. Fortunately, this pocket was a fairly loose one.

Absently you put a hand on the pocket that contained the cylinder, making certain it was still there, and it was indeed still there, and still as mysterious as ever. It almost felt warm to the touch through the pocket fabric. Then again, it was metal, and absorbing heat from your body.

The great Ironbark trees had been visible for quite a distance by the time you actually got to the base of one. This was without question the largest living thing you’d ever heard of, much less seen.  

The smells of the plant life were nearly over powering. You’d noticed them miles ago, but they just loomed here, shrouding the trees and everything around them. This place was bustling with life… Birds, squirrels, plants… And yet, there was something distinctly not alive about some aspect of it… Something perhaps a little morbid. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You’d gathered legends and whatever information you could find regarding the Centaurs before leaving Embar, and read it along the way. This forest had seen a great deal of death over the years, more than its fair share according to the stories. Perhaps these giant living things had a powerful familiarity with the peaceful release of death. Maybe you were just feeling the calm of death that had left its impression on these ancient trees.

No, that didn’t feel right. There was certainly the feeling of death, but not peace. There was very little peace here. Something was not right.

As you peered into the woods taking it all in, a sudden shape of a centaur became apparent. You wondered how you could overlook that in broad daylight. The creature did not move, but stood and watched.  After a long moment, it beckoned you to it.

You realized as you got closer, that this centaur was out of place. He was wearing armor and was armed to the nines. This fellow was ready for war. He looked just like the drawings in one of the books you’d read.

You stopped about twenty paces away, as a gentle breeze blew across you. You notice on his hand the same tattoo as the one in on the dead body back in Embar, only this one had a shield in the background of it. The breeze that floated by, blowing at your hair didn’t touch the Centaur. He was a ghost!

He looked you up and down a moment longer, and slowly his face of stone softened a bit. He nodded with what appeared to be approval, and pointed to the west-northwest with his spear. He put his fist to his chest in an ancient salute, and faded into nothing.

Session 3 begins


The idea that there are simply no roots this year weighs on you like a boulder. The thought that there may be no possibility of success is simply unacceptable.

Still, you realize you have nothing but to trust in the words of Su’tharc, who doesn’t seem to appear worried. Somehow that does seem of some comfort, if only a little.

Over the years, you’ve seen one fact prove itself true over and over again, and that’s this: Failure can only occur if it’s allowed to. If there are no roots, perhaps there’s something else.

Time was precious, but there was a little that could be spared.


Having been in this place for only one day, you’d already seen more than you were prepared for. Centaurs, a race supposedly older than time, Trees that loomed further over heard than any you’d ever seen, a Satyr… Dead Orcs from thousands of years ago…

Since leaving your home, the only clarity and sense of stability you’d had was while running with Mithril.

Still though, this was a fantastic place to be, and considered really quite an honor. And to be asked by a Centaur to help with anything was not only unexpected, but completely unprecedented.

Was this something to be excited about? Probably. Scared? Most definitely.


An odd day it’d been. It was uncommon for there to be outsiders in the Centaur city, much less two… Even more uncommon was it for a race of the Emerald Dawn to be in the Centaur city, and again, much less common for there to be two at the same time, matter of fact, it’s never happened before. History was being made. Things were definitely happening. What? Time would tell.

The tainted smell seemed more pungent on the air last night, although still very faint. It could be just that you were more aware of it.

Dead Orcish soldiers from thousands of years ago are coming back to life, regenerating…  Too many questions…

Something was definitely happening.

Everything after this will be filled in as soon as I get the chance... Feel free to step in if I don't get to it shortly...

Oh Yeah... Edits need to be made to include Hommal. (spelling?)

I'd like to finish the post above, but I'm starting to lose details in my mind already.

This was the session that included Charon's arrival and talking with the dead Orc (who was the spirit of Challance - a long dead Centaur war hero).

Another point, when the orc poofed, two Ironbark saplings were in his place, one was made into a salve and gifted to Maragarn. (He's still got 5 applications of it after applying a generous amount to his Grandfather, which we'll be covering in "Satyr Tracks".)

Please feel free to add anything else you feel is pertainent. (or however it's spelled).


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