Scene 5: Disarmed in the Dark (Dis arm? No, dat arm!)

Intimidating a doomed goblin revealed little. The leader of the enemy is an Uruk named Graytooth who doesn't like "shineys". "Did I mention I'm a minion?" Gorim soon dispatched the beast behind closed doors. A noise was heard, drfting faintly over the sound of the cutting wind, a familiar sound; the turning of metal bands of the lorica. Intrigued our spear set out through the blackness to find the source. Finding a pit full of roman corpses, some minus their heads, the dwarf was certain he saw a hand move. Dangling the lightest of the group, Zot the gnome, our intrepid cook was soon beset by leaping hands of unlife. Tearing into his flesh he was soon unconscious. Gorim yanked him back to relative safety and the battle was on. Soon the three hands were slain and the party's wounds were wearily tended. What fresh horror lurks beyond the next ridge??

a thousand words

Scene 4 Black as pitch in Ballasalla

As the spear approached the village, the smoky lanterns revealed some small wooden buildings.  Small goblins with fire beetles barred the way but were no match for the efficiency of the Spear.

What new mysteries await our intrepid adventurers?  What of the poor villagers under the century's care?  Goblinkind lurk near; doubtless this small group is not alone...  


Next session: 13 August

Scenes 2 and 3; a friend in the dark and a camp brutalized

At the evening's start, the Elven soldier Amun was discovered after a few tense moments in the darkened wood. A camp runner's body had been found, his young body riddled with flint arrows. The wooden palisade loomed in the fog before them, but no greeting came from the darkened camp and there was only a gaping hole where the gates should have stood.

Two legionnaires, 26th cohort, 12th spear were found cowering as men already dead. Paolo would utter no sound, but Claude was coaxed into sharing some of what had happened. Two weeks ago the rest of the century stationed here left mysteriously and abruptly to the north. Six days later the decurion left behind were aware of movement outside the palisades, following by bestial grunting. Soon a mass of Roman heads, severed from the bodies of soldiers they had fought and lived by for years came soaring over the sides of the palisades. The siege then began in earnest with the shaken Romans doing their best to hold the foe at bay. The total effort of the soldiers was exhausting though seemingly effective as the orcs were unable to enter the fort. Unable until the ogre came. Breaking the gates was only the first assault as the orcs poured through and soon only a handful of men, thought dead in the onslaught were still alive when day broke. Three had survived from the 26th Gaelic cohort, 19th Spear. Derek, Stewart and Graeme had had enough of their wits about them to understand some mention of the orcs gutteral speech. One word had stood out from their foul mutterings - "Uruk." Though the orcs, some of which had come via strange leather covered river craft, had taken practically everything of value, they had left the Centurion's tent untouched. A thorough search turned up 12 days of hard tack (about as tasty as it sounds), 3 days of salt pork, 4 bottles of very high quality wine from Saarling (Germany) as well as a Bronze scroll tube painted red (4 tubers in golden liquid = heal 5 hp, no surge required) in the style typically reserved for Official Roman business. Of particular note was a Black scabbarded Gladius with an ebony handle and a Damascus steel blade. Even the least martial of the spear could tell this was a fine blade indeed!

None of the remaining spear have any idea of welfare of the village and soon the party set out toward Ballasalla, the old silver mines, inactive for decades.

The Cast - Amun

Amun comes to us an Elven Invoker from the land of Egypt, replete with traditions and death cults older than Rome itself.  Portrayed by Darrell, look for more information here later...

The Cast - Nusquam of Axum

My formal name is Nusquam of Axum.  Close friends (that includes anyone from the last adventure) call me Zot, but never in the open.  My name (which means "nothing") was given to me by my step-mother, who reluctantly took me into the family after learning of my illegitimate birth.  If my mother gave me a more respectful name, it's been lost to the ages.  My step-mother (who definitely wore the toga in the family) never let my father—or me—forget his indiscretion, and I was never recognized by her.  My father, to his credit, was always kind to me, and he was the one that got me interested in...er...jeweling.  Bad luck follows me like a cloud of doom.

I appear a little bit awkward; a little bit socially inept.  While my peers practiced their battle arts, I was mostly interested in reading.  I'd have been a monk or cleric, like some of my siblings, but I didn't have the focus, and I didn't really have the interest.  I've always gotten along better with animals and plants than with people.  I'm a fair gardener, and more than a fair cook.  I'm not much interested in fighting (I can defend myself when needed), but my lamb hash with rosemary was enough to convince the captain that I was worthy of a commission.   And it was better than all that endless chanting.

I wear the garb of the legion, but I don't wear armour.  I let people who can fight do the fighting—when arrows fly, I try to stay out of the way.  I carry a sword because I should, but I'm rarely inclined to use it if I can help it.   This is partly because I'm mostly blind in one eye (a little accident with the dried newts).  I'm a bit ADHD, a bit nerdy, a bit flirtatious, a bit impetuous, a bit impertinent (even impish), and a bit cowardly.  All the things that the legion tries to avoid in its legionnaires, but its legionnaires can't make a roast-mutton with mead and radish sauce like I can, so my place is safe for now.  

Oh, and if you want to know what that diamond you just found is worth, I'm you're guy, though such things have a habit of ending up in my bag if you're not looking.

A video of Nusquam's famous cousin...

Act 1 Sc. 1; Orders, a Bridge and Strange Wolves

By the time they made landfall, the torrential downpour had soaked the members of the 5th Spear far beyond any had experienced in their short lives. Centurion Andronicus accompanied the short manned spear to the coast in a lurching longboat. Taking shelter in an abandoned hermit's stone hut, Andronicus took out a bronze capped red scroll that you have come to expect as conveying official business. Breaking the wax seal with the pommel of his gladius. He began to read:

Salve, members of the 23rd cohort, 5th spear. You have been brought to the Isle of Man in order to assist the 23rd Brittanicus cohort in the Holy task of defending the Empire and her allies against the forces of darkness. In this region you will find pockets of orckind and goblin servants.

Remember that in all things you represent the 13th Legion. Report at Ballasalla, a small mining town, to Centurion Longinus Gallus Dronicus called the Wanderer for orders.

Should you encounter those not yet friendly to the empire, deal with them fairly. Should you find those hostile to the empire deal with them forcefully, but do not throw away your lives. You are the property of the Holy Roman Empire and may easily grow into the service that you were intended for should you survive the Year of Proving. May the Almighty guide your paths. Strength and Honor!

With that (and brief direction to the mining town), salutes were exchanged and the centurion rapidly disappeared in the growing darkness. None too eager to return to the gloom outside, the Spear nonetheless soon made their way to the old Roman road (or as the locals referred to it, "The King's Highway"). The familiar path of basalt under their Caligaes, the four tromped through the mud for hours. Though catching a glimpse of lights in the far distance, no other sights disturbed the monotony of rain and mud until the bridge was reached. After a harrowing experience of crossing the rickety bridge, which the Goliath narrowly escaped only through an exhausting battle with the river itself.

Some time later the lights appeared again, leading the soggy quartet to another monk's stone cell, this time recently abandoned. Boot prints were observed in the muck within (sans hobnails - these weren't made by Legio!), as well as a half a glass of particularly fine wine and a meal half eaten. Water droplets left on the table in a square pattern (not unlike the bottom of the lantern carried by Aleksandra, the Spear's light bearer) pointed further yet to the hasty abandonment of the ascetic's cell.

Left with no other option, the 4 continued through the morass of rain and gloom until they came to a place where the old road ran through a deepening ravine, with cliff facings creating a natural valley. Lightning strikes illuminated a trio of gray wolves in the distance, casually barring the path of the 5th Spear. Combat ensued and despite the tripping attacks of the wolves, the party was victorious. As the third wolf fell, it spoke in an eerie voice, exclaiming, "Unwelcome" before it perished. Each of the wolves was discovered to have a slender, razor sharp silver coil around its neck. With 4 miles to go in the rain and muck, the weary spear continued.