Scales of War

The End Is Here

Fading, blinking away the last light of the room Alain could see the bodies of his allies laying still in the vault. Bruukun lay atop the trapped floor with his throat slit and a pool of blood spilling out from him freely across the ground. Harhark laid near by, still breathing for the moment but with two of the Quicklings and the Harpy still alive his time must be short. From farther north in the room a moan escapes the lips of Roogan who is slightly twitching in unconsciousness, dreams of the pain being inflicted to his friends running through his closed eyes. Trel’wyn lay on the ramp, motionless, too far away, helpless. Alain was holding out hope that Cirion Carn may rescue them all but then a fear creeps into his mind of the remaining trolls and what they could do if they decided to rush the entrance with only Cirion guarding it.

That is the last he remembers as the darkness over takes him, and thus ends the chapter of the First Foreign Legion of Brindol. Dreams take the party to better locations as the guiding spirits of Avandra bless the lost souls for the effort they put into life. To each mind comes the peace of a location and loved ones which are familiar and soothing, the soft whispering of a feminine voice drawing them deeper into their resting places.

With the First Foreign Legion of Brindol gone, the city of Overlook was slow to see the threat that General Zitherun presented. As a combined force of mercenaries and Trolls attack the city from the outside and from within, most of it burns to the ground and the citizens that survive scatter to the winds. The Elsir Vale slowly starts to fall, slaves being taken and outsiders setting up a base camp within the material plane. Eoffram Troyas sends a letter on a messenger after Denkstrum who finds the corpse in the Feywild a couple weeks after he should have. In the letter Eoffram explains that his old party has gone missing, that Overlook is lost and that soon Brindol will be taken. By the time Denkstrum receives the information it is too late, and it seems that the lands will need a new generation of heroes to eventually rise up and overthrow the mantles of slavery and once again let the people walk free… Someday. But that is another story, for another time.

A Letter From Eoffram Troyas
To the First Foreign Legion of Brindol


It has been a short time since you have recently visited and then left Brindol. The populace had erupted in anger at the burning of the Hall of Valor because of the people after you, but time will heal those wounds. We are slowly receiving words from outlying towns and villages speaking of members of either their population or neighboring ones who are returning from some long forgotten fortress, Fortress Graystone is what I believe they call it.

With the news of more heroics on your part I know the people of Brindol will once again receive you with open arms. I wish to thank you for turning out to be all that I expected and more. Many of the council members still do not see adventurers or “mercenaries” a viable source of getting jobs done, but the impact you have made all over the Elsir Vale has helped change some minds. I hope that you can stay as safe as possible, though in your line of work I know that is neigh impossible. I also mourn the loss of the ones you have had to leave behind in your travels.

Denkstrum had also been through the town on his way to the Feywild I hear. He had served Brindol well before and will hopefully continue to help your party even though you may be parted for the moment. Do not forget your beginnings and continue to uphold the honor in which you currently work under, bringing a good name to adventuring groups.

Sincerely, Eoffram Troyas

Of time past, again we quest

Much has happened since the passage of Eris, Gensai Invoker of Gods. New companions met, a new quest upon us, glory and honor is ripe. In crushing the Orc menace we gained the assistance of a mysterious Dwarven Shapeshifter, Roogan. His valor is battle has proven worthy and his companionship true. I do not understand his connection to nature or his powers but the Dwarf is a master of great powers but however reckless…his connection to the lost Farstriders is suspicious but in battle he has proven loyal. He fought with us in a great chamber against a powerful Orc onslaught, shamans, orc champions, and an ogre. The chamber was a great trap and filled with boiling water killing Dalan Ra. Fortunately, the infernal ancestry in my blood spared me the pains of the heat while I carried an almost mortally wounded Alain to safety. It was a feat of heroics from everyone that snatched victory against the orcs at that moment. Denkstrom was resourceful enough to get the water going and deft enough to stop it from killing everyone.

Since then we have also gained the patronage of a stony giant. A strange traveler of immense size and brutishness born from the very stone of the earth. This Feremore has joined us in battle and proven a deadly warrior. His relation to Dalan Rah matters less to me than his willingness to follow in his footsteps as a party companion. Also an Elven blademaster, of some priestly assassin cult possibly, has claimed to be an acquaintance of Eris’, taking the Elf on his word is good enough be he true and brave. His assistance in battle has been equally as potent as the large goliath. With our party renewed our enemies shall be quaking with fear, our band will find greatness, glory, and honor as long as we remember the sacrifices of those past and the noble intentions of true heroes. It is sad having lost another companion, now only Denkstrom and Alain remain from the original party but it is humbling to see our quest taking a life beyond ourselves. I did not know Dalan Rah before our questing, he was a curious gnome of some charisma but the measure of his character has been proven in loyal in combat. May the dead carry on through our deeds as long as they be just and glorious.

It is to Alain and Denkstrom that I now lean to for advice and council. Those two are the core to the original party as we quested. They were companions with others before we joined together to quest in Brindol. Alain’s reserved nature provides an intensely observant contrast to Denkstrom’s careful and suspicious attitude. Being careful not to trip up on conspiracy or doubt the noble intentions of others I must assert my moral compass in mutual leadership if our warrior band is to be anything more than a gang of thugs. It is not for simple glory that we quest, it must to sacrifice for the good of others that we quest. Sacrifices have already been made, more will certainly come, those that survive will truly be worthy or greatness. My dreams of joining the ranks of a lord or knight are still alive. Every old soldier has his doubts but the death of those lately are weighing heavily on my mind. Also, the blade I carry has a taste for blood. For every fallen foe my blade surges life into my veins, a thirst is growing in my soul for death and my mind trembles at the tugging of infernal lusts. Maybe the time for settling down is approaching, can I pursue the road to honor if I lust for death? A new battle has begun in my soul, this cannot weaken me from my duty to my companions.


Dirge for the dead.

Leave thy sword at the feet of the legend.

Tribute for passage we wreck your halls.

Rest o lord of mountain tomb.

Thy slain soul empowers the brave forever.

Red hands now empty.

Take thy sword unto heaven.

From this misty mountain delve.

Of Orc stink and foul blood.

Truth be, heroes never die.

Eris your foes, slain, lie.

To the hall of ancestors rise.

We chant this dirge unto the sky.

When our comrades would die in battle back in the war we would chant dirges to help carry the souls of the slain to the halls of their ancestors. Chanting a dirge for a single man was uncommon lest he have saved your life. Eris had been the whole reason our party was on this quest. The sword I carried through the wars has never left my side. Now it lays at the feet of Durgen. May it pay passage for Eris to escape the confines of the monastery, Durgen willing. These red hands shall never touch that weapon, small sacrifice but honor demands sacrifice, and Eris deserves that at least. Now disheartened and into the vent we shall wreck an aweful toll upon these wretched Orcs for their impudence. Drunk on bloodlust we shall be. Know Eris that the orc that cut you down did not suffer to live.

To end a dark stirring.

From the great walled city Harhark and his companions ventured forth on their mission for the realm. The group wrestled up the mountains near to the city in search of the monastery hidden upon it’s slope, Moradin’s Watch the destination. The gates to the lofty monastery was ajar and inside the courtyard many orcs met Gruumesh. Hacking their way through the orc host that has occupied the venerated monastery the group slew an orc shaman. The orcish forces were varied and great in number. Many young orc warriors yet to blood themselves in proper combat tried and failed against the fierce party. Several orcs encountered in the depths of the monastery were professional warriors, well armed, well armored, but not mighty enough to withstand the careful and relentless assault. In the depths many dwarven corpses were found, all slaughtered, some being cannibalized by the monstrous orcs. Harhark charged into a lower chamber and stood stunned under the fierce visage of Durgan Fellfist’s stone carven image battling the legendary hydra. Truly the monastery must be a holy site to contain what could only be the lost tomb of the legendary dwarven hero. Despite the carnage and blood covered gear the party has only made their way through a portion of the monastery. The orcs that have desecrated this dwarven temple will pay the ultimate price for their transgression if Harhark has anything to say about it.

Outreach, city in peril

A call for arms arrived from the city of Outreach. Recovered and refreshed Harhark and his companions have heed the call and set our by foot to reach the distant city. En route the party passed local militia men, small villages, as well as some long abandoned towns. The sounds of battle met the party’s ears just in time destroy an Orcish raiding party attacking an adventuring party…the Free Riders. The parties traveled together to the city. Mighty 100ft tall walls dotted with 5 great towers surround a massive slum. At the monastery of the town a war meeting was held to recruit assistance in taking on the impending orc threat.

Rescue, the beginning.

Harhark and his companions delved into the last depths of the ancient ruined castle. Battling more hobgoblins as well as dire drakes they managed to rescue several captured citizens and most of the loot taken from the great Hall of Brindol. The reluctant councilman was pleasantly surprised at the party’s return and the rescue of the missing items and villagers. Harhark stood proud to accept the reward and the kind gift of a journal. As a arm-chair historian he plans to record the exploits and adventures as he travels. There is obviously a greater danger a foot and the councilman knows danger broods on the horizon. While the party is relaxing for the moment and recuperating Harhark while taking the time to relax can’t help but have a lingering feeling that something sinister is about to occur.

Through the ruined castle many ancient artifacts were uncovered and taken as prize by the party. Amongst the treasure was a truly malignant broadsword, a life-drinker. Dark and wicked the blade shall prove formidable in the hands of the red warrior.

Into the Belly of the Beast

After recuperating for the bloody day in the Venersta catacombs. Harhark awoke refreshed and anxious to rescue the captives. His party, good company in adversity, also were hungry for victory. Kicking in the door to a room and sacking the hobgoblins within a captive was found, a girl named Galissa an acolyte of Ioun! The mysterious tomb in which she was imprisoned contained strange sarcophagi, the contents of which were bountiful. A gleaming mail shirt of the finest craft, looking to be dwarven manufacture, was given to Harhark…fitting nicely the armor is the finest the tiefling has ever seen, a truly proud treasure. Surging down the catacombs like warrior gods Harhark and his companions jumped a large, lone, heavily armored hobgoblin…possibly Simrut himself. Shouting encouragement Harhark lead the battering of the hobgoblin and it was crushed under the deft blades and furious magics of the fury filled party. The large and dead hobgoblin carried maps…plans of an evil plot…maps of the city Brindol, the great hall, and a letter revealing an evil alliance with whites. As a trophy Harhark took the gauntlets from the beast…from another sarcophagi were healing potions. Following the catacombs a large hall became a melee against a small host of undead…intelligent and cunning. Throwing his javelins from behind his fellows (as the shifty undead blocked our way) two of the shafts were driven half through their decaying bodies. The undead fiends were quickly dispatched. Exploring further into the Venersta catacombs revealed a mystical pool of shifting visions that reflected different rooms within the catacombs. Racing deeper into the dark halls brought the party face to face with the terrible whites. Teamwork and courage quickly defeated the menacing undead…but it is further in these dark halls that he party must travel to free the captive townsfolk and thwart the revealed diabolical plot. Alaine uncovered a glimmering bastard sword of some amazing properties while Denkstrom rescued a brilliant longsword…soon both blades will reveal their true value as the party continues….

Another Push

After spending the night licking their wounds Harhark’s companions sallied forth into the wrecked Rivenwar castle yet again. With the haunted veteran at his side Harhark and the Human rushed into several frays followed by the dancing daggers of the Eladrin investigator and the powerful divine incantations of the gensai. Hobgoblins fell like cordword but several of the guards to the Venersta catacombs gave heavy resistance and the secret of their family tombs still remain a mystery. The captives must remain in great jeopardy as the party hews their way through the last halls of the Venersta side of the castle.

Into the Dark

Harhark and his new companions strong armed their way into the Rivenwar castle. The hobgolins fell before his blade as we maneuvered and stalked from room to room. After withstanding repeated assaults when every member of Harhark’s party was near drawn out, a fickle Eladrin investigator from Brindol whom joined the party delved too deeply into the castle’s lost corridors. Firebrand serpents, ghosts, and cunning hobgoblins almost finished the party as they rescued the fey. After sacking most of the accessible catacombs of the Rivenwar family hall it was a key to the door baring their way that lead the party back down the catacombs of the Venersta family. The rescue of the Eladrin left the party near breaking, for safety Harhark and his companions retreated to the strong defenses of ruins outside the castle. It will be a harsh dish these battle hardened adventures will dish out when they re-enter the catacombs.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.