Averaigne campaign - session 20

[The story so far]

Session 20 - Is it the end of the world, or just the end of the adventure?
Those still fit to fight (Dumnorix, Aurelius, Oiseau, Montagne, Tybalt, Jean, and about a dozen watchmen) checked their weapons and armour, shared out the remaining handful of Black Jacques Specials [in effect, Molotovs] and headed for the great Temple of Alathea that formed the heart of the great and ancient city of Corcelle. The remaining Vespertine Guards had fled into the dark but it seemed likely some would be heading in that direction. The streets were dark and quiet. Any citizens who heard the disturbance had bolted their doors and shutters, all the panic of the Temple's desecration flooding back. The party and the dwindling watch were on their own.

Averaigne campaign - session 19

[The story so far]

Session 19 - On the barricades
Abandoning his crossbow for the time being, Tybalt the halfling snatched up an axe and raised it high to swing ineffectually at the Vespertine scrambling up the barricade towards him. All along the ridge of their barrier his new friends, newer comrades, and local watchmen were doing the same to repel the sudden attack. To his left, Jean was struggling to land a blow on his man, while to the right Montagne was a veritable one-man army! Humming tunelessly to himself, the huge fellow broke limbs, stove in ribcages and pulped the heads of any foolish enough to step within range of the heavy and cruelly pointed morningstar that he swung so casually.

Distracted momentarily by the carnage alongside him, Tybalt hadn't noticed the Vespertine swap his sword for a spear. At least not until that spear was thrust deep into his inner thigh. Haemorrhaging violently, the halfling fell back senseless from his vantage point into a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood...

Averaigne campaign - session 18

[The story so far]

Session 18 - Tortuous times
"Yes, but what if they don't talk?" persisted Jean, to nods from Aurelius. "I'm sure they will, if we ask them clearly and explain that they're working against Alathea, and that I'm a cleric of hers. They're bound to!" replied Dumnorix serenely. He paused. Frowned. Then went on quietly and casually, with a slight shrug, "And if not. Well. We'll just have to torture them a bit until they do."

Out in the vastness beyond this mortal plane, Alathea shifted uneasily and malignant beings laughed...

Averaigne campaign - session 17

[The story so far]

Session 17 - Children of the revolution
Bursting out of an alley at full sprint, brandishing bloodied weapons, closely followed by yells of "Stop them!" isn't a good way to be inconspicuous. This became immediately clear to Dumnorix and Oiseau as they tried and failed to blend in. Tybalt the haffling, however, was able to quickly duck into a sidestreet and make his way back towards the Gryphon. The clerics pushed through the crowd, running along a narrow lane and then out onto the main shopping street of Corcelle, stashing their weapons in a narrow wynde between houses and ducking into the nearest safe place Dumnorix could think of - Nagif's jewellery shop. They slammed the door shut behind them and turned to find the jeweller pointing a heavy crossbow right at Dumnorix's face! "Wha'd'you want?"

[GS Review] - June

Half way through the year, June (and early July) rather got swallowed up by national and global matters so hobby time was squeezed to the point of non-existence. I did shed some excess lead, however, so my hobby budget is looking healthier. A bit.

The overview:

No painting pictures, I'm afraid. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. But thanks to sales this month I've now painted more than I've purchased. Yay for me!

Averaigne campaign - session 16

[The story so far]

Session 16 - Back in Corcelle
Shaken and mildly paranoid, as well as still grieving for their comrades, Aurelius, Dumnorix, Hubert and Henri made a good start on the beer as if they intended to drink the Gryphon dry. Jacques leaned across, engaged them in traditional bartender banter and then introduced them to two large men at the other end of the bar. One of them was even more well-built than Dumnorix, and the other had a flaming sword tattooed on the inside of each forearm; a prize-fighter (Montagne) and a cleric of Nikitas (Oiseau Nourriture). "You could do with some more muscle, I reckon, 'cos you seem to have a knack for getting into trouble..."

Pre-apocalyptic wasteland

Sorry it's been so quiet around here recently. Truth is, recent events in the UK and my rage/grief over them have rather taken over my free time as I've thrown myself into whatever avenue I can find in order to try and keep my country outward-looking, positive, and not heading towards a self-inflicted financial crash with racist mood-music. I swear, it's like half the country and most of Parliament has gone mad!

However, this blog is not the place for all that, it's for geeking and escapism. Being in need of both, now that I've found a good outlet for my political inclinations, normal service should resume shortly.

TTFN, comrades,
Rab