Dawn of the Gods

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

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Night of the Owlbear
The legend begins

Abarsis scooted closer to the fire, clutching the furs draped over his shoulders. His hunched body, surprisingly chubby for an elf, shivered sporadically, clearly discomfited by the winter chill. Whispering a brief propitiation to the Sister of Cold Nights, the hooded elf peered through breath-fogged air at his fellow travelers at the campground, all of whom seemed to be handling the cold better than he was.

On Abarsis’s left sat Lousak, a reserved but friendly warden from the Graystorm druid grove. The human’s long graying hair was tucked under the heavy shield he wore on his back, and the hide armor underneath was bedecked with primitive-looking fetishes. His gloved hands idly caressed the heavy wooden warhammer, etched in fey script, that lay across his knees. His breath fogged the air in front of his heavily bearded face as he replied to the friendly gibes of the dragonborn sitting across the fire from him.

Krivaxus the dragonborn was the dynamic center of the group, bringing a warmth of camaraderie to the campfire that even the chilly night could not dampen. The ardent’s priestly garb peeked out from the suit of chainmail draped over it, and the chains of the strange double flail draped casually across his shoulders clanked with his every expressive movement.

Abarsis betrayed a peculiar ambivalence when his gaze came to rest on Belgos, the lithe drow lounging across the campfire from him. His eyes narrowed in unthinking suspicion, but the dark elf seemed oblivious to Abarsis as he watched the warden and the ardent chat. Seemingly entirely unaffected by the cold, Belgos played with his twin daggers, making them dance in the cold air as they reflected flashes of firelight from their pristine blades.

In the lee of a nearby dense copse of trees, what appeared to be a traveling noblewoman and her escort of a half-dozen well-armed men had similarly camped by a roaring fire. While most of the guards proceeded to set up a perimeter and scout the surrounding area for potential threats, one of the more gregarious ones approached the fire by which the party huddled. An affable human named Garand, he spoke animatedly with the other travelers around the fire.

The genial conversation was interrupted by a guttural roar that shattered the quiet of the night, quickly followed by a terribly brief scream. Every head on a swivel, the campmates cast about for sudden movements. Abarsis stood quickly, drawing his ancient falchion and stamping his feet to rid them of numbing cold, followed shortly by the warden and the ardent. Belgos silently slipped into the shadows of the deep brush, his wicked looking crossbow cocked and at the ready.

Garand hailed another guard, and together they disappeared into the underbrush away from the road. After the sound of their movements fade, there was a tense moment of silence while Abarsis, Lousak, and Krivaxus glanced uneasily around. The roar issued forth again, closer this time, and longer, almost drowning out the anguished cries of injured men. The thundering crash of something very big lumbering through the forest crackled through the air, and Abarsis no longer noticed the cold.

A patter of fleeing footsteps from the darkened wood resolved into the panting, stumbling figure of Garand, blood sheeting from the ruins of his chainmailed torso, spattering the snowy furrow in his wake. “Run! RUN!” he gasped, collapsing in a heap at the edge of the firelight. As Lousak crouched by Garand’s side, the roar shook the air again. A hulking shaggy figure, six feet tall at the withers, burst out of the woods into the nearby copse, shattering the sedan chair resting near the fire. The slender woman within silently catapulted from the wreckage like so much jetsam, and landed with an ominous crunching thud.

The ravening beast, chuffing, reared up on its hind legs, standing easily a dozen feet tall. It shook itself, and a cloud of blood, feathers, and fur wafted in the air around it. A dagger fell to the ground, dislodged from its body. Its attention focused on the men around the other campfire, and it hurled a rage-filled roar at the sky before hurling itself toward them. A crossbow bolt from out of nowhere greeted its frenzied charge, and the battle was joined.

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To Riverwood

Plumes of hot breath smeared the starlit sky, matched by dwindling pillars of smoke from the scattered remains of the campfire. The owlbear, its dying breaths puffing out of its gore-streaked muzzle, lay among the embers hissing their heat into the chilly night. In battle, the ferocity of the owlbear was an overwhelming terror that could only be responded to in fight or flight. But the piteous dwindling of its dying movements demanded a quiet contemplation from the four men who had brought it to such a lowly state. Its blood dripped from their weapons, and dark crossbow bolts jutted from its furred and feathered contours. The staccato of their pulses slowing just as that of the great beast did, the four men stood and watched in silence, a vanguard to the owlbear’s passing.

The barely conscious Garand broke their reverie as he gasped “…her…help her…please…” before passing out entirely. Krivaxus quickly leapt to the woman’s aid, retrieving her unconscious form from where it lay in the underbrush. As Abarsis tended to the fallen guard and Belgos kept an eye out for any further incursions from the woods, Lousak turned a critical eye upon the owlbear’s corpse.

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Wildlife in Marl; A sudden companion

Heading to Old Town. Trying to follow map but having difficulty. Followed by City Guards. Met a Warforged named George, who helps them find the section of the city where the map indicates. Cul de Sac of abandoned buildings. One is not but bears the mark of Bahamut.

When confronted the guards state they are they to simply keep an eye on them. Deciding not to approach the building until they shake the guards, they follow George on a job he had to clear a nearby warehouse of creatures inside.

Warehouse cleared.

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