Prologue – Sons of the Dragon

DM: TP
Relic (Warforged Barbarian) – Leggy
Nescorin (Gnome) – Jordan
Rafe (Dragonborn Fighter) – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil (Dwarf Cleric) – Mark

A group of formerly unassociated travellers were on their way to Tempestadt via the Arch-Bishopric of Ermentrude. One rainy, grey evening the entered Widdleton-Under-Hill, a one horse town. The Golden Dragon Inn had been closed, but they broke in and stayed there anyway.

In the hope of receiving the 100gp reward they agreed to try and find the Mayor's wife and child, Francis and Matild. There was a note saying the Matild was dead, but due to a magical ring they knew this not to be the case. The former owner of the Golden Dragon had also disappeared, and it was he who had left the aforementioned note. After interrogating Rosemary Tipp, Matild's friend they found a trail leaving away from the village common to an abandoned mine. En-route they found the body of the Mayor's wife.

The trail led to an abandoned quarry, now home to Kobolds. Killing several Kobold guards and some giant weasels (but deciding discretion was the better part of valour, when it came to the giant spider) they found the head of the Sons of the Dragon cult, Krikk.

They subdued Krikk then interrogated him, learning that Matild was actually a wizard and had voluntarily joined the cult. The in keeper as just a bit odd and had followed her. ? Then caved in Krikk's skull and stole his magic sword.

The heroes found Matild and Spintt (the inn keeper) in a room where a giant dragon statue was being excavated. The dragon did not appear to be magical. Using a charm spell the heroes persuaded Matild to return to her father, they duffed up Spintt and took him back to face the authorities.

Mayor Jonks could not afford to pay the full 100gp (let alone the higher amount the heroes tried to get out of him) but promised to pay when he could. Relic carried on towards Tempestadt, but the other three decided to steal the Golden Dragon and set up in business together.

Attack of the Killer Octopus - Part 1

DM: Leggy.
Hobb Bumblestump – Dwarf Cleric – tp.
D'Hakken – Half-Orc Fighter – Ed.
Thialgarno Sitriestan of Kryptgarden aka Jeff - Elf Ranger – Jordan.
Fay Timberweald – Half-Elf Wizard – Mark.

Hobb was innocently minding his own business nursing a hang-over when he was hauled in by the Tempestadt watch on suspicion of not being from round these parts. He was taken into a room with three strangers (who to be fair did look a bit suspect) and asked about his whereabouts for the previous three nights, by a rather belligerent halfling and a somewhat-more-pleasant half-orc. It turned out there was a 'Dockside Ripper' at large, three prostitutes had been killed and dumped in the docks in sacks. Hobb, being a community minded fellow, decided to help out the watch, the other three agreed to help him. There was also a 40gp reward, but this was of no mention.

Upon leaving the watch house there was a road traffic accident involving 'the crab man' which resulted in the escape of four of the largest, meanest, biggest pincered crabs you have ever seen. Hobb bravely put himself between these brutes and his new friends, suffering almost fatal wounds as a result. The other three heroes faffed round until the crabs ran off.

The party told the watch of their suspicions about the crab man then set off for the Temple of Pelor, where the bodies were being held. The clerics at the temple healed the party and showed them to the morgue. The three bodies showed signs of crab bits, and also claw marks. Two of the three had rope marks round ankles and/or wrists. One had an arm pulled off by a humanoid hand.

Next our brave adventurers visited Terry Grimwald, Head of Customs and Excise for Tempestadt and, some say, it's defacto ruler since the Duke has withdrawn from public life. Through some excellent interrogation the group learnt that Grimwald had been using the services of one of the prostitutes, Amber, on the very night she was killed. She was picked up by his coachman, taking to a secret location then dropped back off, or so he said.

Grimwald's secretary, Pippa (a blonde halfling with a shapely rump) was behaving in a most suspicious and furtive manner. Upon exiting the office Hobb decided to inconspicuously break into her desk. Unfortunately this ended up with the desk being slightly smashed open with a mace, and several burly bailiffs becoming aware of the situation.

The party next questioned the coach driver, but he was a surly fellow and told them nothing of any use.

Down at the docks the party questioned three prostitutes, learning the name of the third, faceless woman, Kate the Kraken, identifying her by her large and notable octopus tattoo. They then visited an inn, The Docker's Wife. The team split in two. D'Hakken and Fay talked to a salty old sea dog, Jack Silvermain, who lead them to believe the attacks might have been made, not by sharks (which are very rare in these parts) but by a weird race of shark humanoids. A colony of such creatures was known to have been blown east from the Kashti Coast following the storms that plagued the sea last week.

Hobb and Jeff talked to a lunatic, Brian, who was haranguing the clientèle of the tavern and telling them a great evil was approaching, he could hear it in his head. After agreeing to meet this fellow at ten bells at the market square the pair then followed him. Hobb lost sight of them, Jeff was spotted, in an uncanny fashion, by Brian. When Jeff shouted at him Brian ran off, Jeff lost him in the maze like back streets of the city.

Attack of the Killer Octopus - Part 2

DM: Leggy.
Hobb Bumblestump – Dwarf Cleric – tp.
D'Hakken – Half-Orc Fighter – Ed.
Thialgarno Sitriestan of Kryptgarden aka Jeff - Elf Ranger – Jordan.
Fay Timberweald – Half-Elf Wizard – Mark.

Upon leaving the Docker's Wife to check that no-one was having their nefarious way with the local prostitutes, Hobb and his crew bumped into Ronnie Two-Foot, local gnomish pimp. D'Hakken almost managed to turn an amicable encounter into a bloodbath, but Hobb talked things round and they found out some invaluable information about a certain fine-rumped hobbitess.

A cunning plan was then hatched that Hobb would acquire a dress and use his womanly wiles to lure the Dockside Ripper into their trap. Aquiring the said dress turned out to be slightly more mentally scarring than intended. Hobb payed the elderly Throg at Nonny Ogg's Knocking Shop to strip off then stand facing the wall while he scarpered with her clothes.

At the market square Hobb could have picked up a dozen clients but the mysterious black coach didn't turn up before ten bells and the arranged meeting with Brian the Nutter. Brian took the party to some 'friends' of his who were trying to make the city a better place. For reasons best known to himself Brian didn't want to take Hobb along, so the dwarf had to sneak after the party.

When they reached the location for the meeting it turned out that Pippa (Terry Grimwald's secretary) was in it up to her eyeballs (which was not very deep, but you know…). Hobb always knew she was a wrong-un, that's why he smashed up her desk. The rest of the party were admitted as being friends of Brian, though again Hobb was left out in the cold, it was starting to seem that Tempestadt was not the sort of city that welcomed a young fella in a frock. Bigots.

Not to be deterred Hobb went round to the front of the establishment and kicked in the door. Brian came to see what was happening and Hobb gave him a bolt of energy to the face. The loony blighter went down like a sack of potatoes and Hobb hot footed it down to the cellar where there was some kind of ceremony going on.

It seemed that Pippa was also a bit of a loony and had been sacrificing prostitutes to a shark monster that was living in the drain. Wilkins (the coach driver) had been helping her, as had Brian. The rest of the party had dealt with these three by the time Hobb joined them, but then the monster popped up and it was only with the Dwarf's moral support that they dealt with it.

D'Hakken thought it would be funny to push Hobb down a drain into the monsters lair, with no real regard to his safety. Whilst there he had a look around.

For the DM's eyes only (highlight to read):
He slipped three gems into his purse, along with a few gold peices, before shouting to the others.

They found a chest of coins, along with a few magic items. For some reason the dolt D'Hakken promised a quarter of this to a prostitute who they had saved from the crazed hobbit. She followed the party round moaning until finally they had no choice but to pay up. Having collected the reward from the watch, and also from Grimwald for making sure no one else died, the party retired to the Duke's Head public house to divy up the money.

Who Are The Monsters?

DM: TP
Nesacrin - Gnome – Jordan
Rafe – Dragonborn Fighter – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil - Dwarf Cleric – Mark

Solo Online - Relic – Warforged Barbarian – Leggy

After the events at the village, and saying goodbye to its companions, The Relic resumed its journey to Tempestadt.
As the road headed towards the swampy wetlands, The Relic met a curious man riding a toad. This obvious con artist attempted to swindle The Relic by offering him some worthless pebbles for an inflated rate. The Relic may not have been educated in any meaningful sense, but it's not a foolish creation, and saw through this obvious swindle immediately. After a few threats the swindler was seen off.
Further down the road, deep in the swamps, and in the shadows of a ruined tower, The Relic was ambushed by a great horde of Bullywug Frogmen. Although mighty, The Relic had but one axe with which to swing, and could not fend of their great numbers alone. After a battle worthy of the songs of bards he was struck low by their cruel and powerful leader .

Time passed, maybe hours, maybe days, but The Relic awoke again. It had survived, but taken prisoner. Bound by unbreakable chains it was at the Bullywugs mercy.

As The Relic lay immobile he heard voices. A trade was being discussed. It was to be given to some unknown man, in exchange for what it did not know.
A cloth was thrown over it, and Bullywugs attempted to bundle it into a cart. Vowing his vengeance on every frog in the swamp, The Relic was carted away.

Meanwhile…

With the events of the day behind them (and with innkeeper Spintt entrusted in their care to be placed under house arrest until the Watch could be notified) the party retired back to the Golden Dragon.
Locking Spintt in an upstairs room, the party gave thought on what their next actions should be.
Their contemplation was interrupted by a loud crash, as Spintt seemingly tripped - no doubt while pacing up and down, contemplating his misdeeds - and toppled through their upstairs window, plummeting to a sickening impact below.
No sooner had he impacted upon the ground, than his weighty wardrobe followed him through the window, tragically crushing the life out of him. The exact cause of this is unknown, but may be due to localised earth movements, or possibly an aggressive case of termites.

As this unfortunate event occurred, Mayor Jonks rounded the corner, no doubt to converse with the party, and became an unlucky witness, seeing the wardrobe squash Spintt, while a horrified Nescorin (who had rushed outside prior to the fatal object's fall) looked on in shock.

Whilst this incident may be considered unlucky for Mr Spintt, Nescorin managed to broker a deal, where the Golden Dragon (now without an owner) would henceforth be the property of the party, in lieu of the payment Mayor Jonks still owed.

Under the new name of The Crooked Kobold, the remaining party assigned themselves jobs. The dragonborn would work the bar and pour drinks, the dwarf in the kitchen preparing food, and the gnome, after some careful calculations, would take food and drinks to the patrons' table.

Deciding to further aid the denizens of Widdleston, the party chose to investigate the missing cat of Ms d'Quincy at number 3. A cat was located not far from the residence, though it appeared to have perished several days earlier.

A message was arranged to be delivered to the brewery, informing them of the change of ownership, and a commitment to honour existing contracts with the inn. The message was delivered by Mackenzie, the messenger.

One of the first customers to the Crooked Kobold revealed himself to be the town drunk, Arthur. A stout gentleman, who proving unable to pay his tab, agreed to drum up custom around Widdleston.

Arthur would prove (indirectly) to also provide further staff for the 'Kobold. After an angry visit from his wife, chastising the party for providing Arthur with alcohol, it was arranged to take her daughter on as a barmaid.
It was further revealed that Arthur's wife had no fondness for the man, and wished for the party to arrange him to suffer a violent, painful death.

The first patron to arrive from outside of Widdleston was a slightly suspicious looking gnome, called Bodsey, who offered the party money for information about the location of the Warforged adventurer, Relic.

The gnome chose to stay the night, and retired to his room, with the understanding that Nancy wished to join him.
Unfortunately, apparently due to no small amount of confusion, the dragonborn, Rafe chose to slip into his room uninvited, and a slight misunderstanding resulted in a fight to the death, with Rafe emerging the victor.

The party decided to deal with Arthur, the town drunk, by visiting his home, intending to inform him the mayor wished to speak to him (planning to lay in wait and potentially ambush him). Upon arrival at his home, the gnome was the victim of a grave insult by a man later determined to be Arthurs' son, Godwin, and some justice was summarily dispensed upon the unfortunate Godwin's nether regions. A message was left with Arthur's more sensible son to get him sobered up and sent on his way to visit Mayor Jonks.
The party meanwhile adopted a position in the abandoned homes along the route.
Arthur was tricked into one of the houses, though an accident where he was due to fall down the stairs misfired, and the dragonborn ended up strangling him.

That night, an unseen messenger delivered a note to the upstairs window of the inn, apparently intended for Mr Spintt from an aquaintance determined to reside in Tempestadt. The sender appeared to be very upset with Spintt's failure, regarding the kobold situation the adventurers had previously dealt with.
Nescorin returned the message, forging a note purporting to be from Spintt and claiming he had turned against Attilus and instead set up partnership with Mayor Jonks.

The following morning, a message was also couriered to Attilus by Mackenzie, informing him that Spintt had died in a tragic accident, and his property seized by the local government.

Early Doors

DM: tp
Nescorin - L2 Gnome Warlock – Jordan
Rafe – L2 Dragonborn Fighter – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil - L2 Dwarf Cleric – Mark
Relic – L3 Warforged Barbarian – Leggy

On The Road Again

DM: tp
Nescorin - L2 Gnome Warlock – Jordan
Rafe – L2 Dragonborn Fighter – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil - L2 Dwarf Cleric – Mark
Relic – L3 Warforged Barbarian – Leggy

Rise of the Thunder Guard

DM: Leggy
Hobb - L2 Dwarf Cleric – tp
D'Hakken – L2 Half Orc Fighter – Ed
Faye Timberweald - L2 Elf Wizard – Mark
Jeff – L2 Half-Elf Ranger – Jordan

The following is what happened to the best of Hobb's memory. All errors and omissions accepted.

It was a typical Tempestadt morning. The weak winter's sun shone through a grimey window pane in Hobb's room at the Duke's Head. He stirred and was disturbed to find he wasn't hung over. In the other bed Faye Timberweald gently snored. Hobb decided to seize the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.
'Where you off to?' Faye's voice came muffled from under the blankets.
'Just popping down to the out house,' said Hobb, slipping on his corset and skirt. He really should find some more clothes. But these were surprisingly comfortable.
'I'll come with you,' said Fay. Great.

Having pissed a piss that didn't smell like surgical spirits for once Hobb took off down the street.
'Morning Hobb!' Bloody marvellous. Now D'Hakken and Jeff were here too. 'Off somewhere?'
Hobb mumbled something he hoped was incompressible.
'Ruck'Zan Bara's? I could do with some armour. Why don't we all go together?'
'That's…' started Hobb, but he couldn't think of any plausible reason why they couldn't all go together. 'Yeah, why not.'

En route the party heard a commotion up ahead. They ran towards the screams and saw a woman being manhandled by a man. Hobb pulled him away and the man screamed in panic.
'No you fools! It's Renee, she's trying to stab her self!'
To give her her due Faye acted quickly and swiped the woman's legs from under her with a staff. The knife tumbled across the street and Hobb grabbed it. The man, Daniel, explained to the party how his wife had been acting strangely recently, complaining of migraines for the last few weeks. This morning she had flipped out in the middle of the street and tried to stab herself with her fish gutting knife.

At Ruck'Zan's shop Hobb headed straight over to the armour, admiring the craftsmanship of a suit of chainmail. When the half orc had finished she came over.
'How much is this?' Hobb inquired.
'75 Gold.'
Hobb inspected his purse. Only 30 odd gold coins there. But he did have the gems… Hobb gave the blacksmith an appraising look. Just then she noticed the party's resident Half Orc.
'D'Hakken?'
'Yes…?'
'Don't you recognise me?'
'Umm…not entirely….'
'I was good friends with your brother.'
'Ralf?'
'No.'
'Bernard?'
'No.'
'Sheggen?'
'That's the one!'
'You know he went missing?'
'Missing? D'Hakken, your brother is dead…'
A tear welled up in the burly fellow's eye. 'What…what…'
'I was with him, we were in the Purple Hills by the [mystical stone] mine. We were ambushed. I don't know who by, it all happened so quickly. There was a hail of arrows and he was cut down. I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure they were elvish arrows. 
D'Hakken, Ruck'Zan and Hobb gave a sideways glance at Jeff and Faye. 
'What does one have to do to get served round here?' said Jeff, like a petulant child.
D'Hakken stalked outside unable to contain his grief.
No. Ruck'Zan was not someone who deserved to be fleeced. Even in the name of Banarama. 
'Would you take a bloodstone in part payment for the mail?' Hobb asked. He passed the stone over for Ruck'zan to inspect. 'I reckon it's worth about 50 gold?'
The black smith nodded her ascent.
'Is it my turn to be served yet?' Jeff practically stamped his foot, but D'Hakken came back in and began bartering for some armour.

Sometime later the party found themselves headed towards The Cautious Adventurer a general adventurers supplies shop run by one Muggins, a halfling of dishonourable repute. They were almost there when they were once again stopped in their tracks by some odd behaviour. A fellow was stood on the edge of the street gently banging his head on a wall and telling the world at large how no one was real, they were all in the imaginations of others, who argued a lot and kept asking for tea. Apparently there was no way to console this man, who the party decided should be called Alan so Hobb gave him five silver and they went about their way.

At The Cautious Adventurer Hobbs suspicions were are once confirmed. Muggins was a swindling little shit. Hobb put on his Telepathic Helm, and reached out magically for the stunted fellow's mind. I can cheat this hick of a dwarf, looks like he fell straight off the apple cart. Hobb handed over the two remaining gems.
'What do you reckon these are worth?' he asked the halfling but unbeknownst to the tiny chap he planted the idea in his head that they were worth twice their actual value, which was only 50 gold each. 
'Oooo, probably 40 gold each,' Muggins ventured. Cheating little twat. Hobb bargained hard and eventually got 68 gold each for the gems.
The others bought some general supplies and the party went off again, this time to an apothecaries.

The Apothecary turned out to be a bloody elf, and was selling stuff at a highly inflated price. Hobb was having none of it and surely stood to the back. As it happened the swindling elf, Alfreya was her name, had a common acquaintance with Faye, a wizard named Ellicott. It sounded like he had gone missing and the Apothacarie needed some white flowers from the Greysoak Mountains to finish a cure for the Sewer Plague, an illness that was gaining a foothold in the city.

Wandering down the street after this shopping trip and thinking how nicely a bacon sandwich would go down the party was rudely accosted by two guardsmen who after waffling on for a bit about sore feet and head aches eventually told the party they had been asked to go to Terry Grimwald's office.

At the aforementioned tax collectors head quarters they were greeted warmly by Terry, and also by Jack Silvermain, the salty seadog who the party had met at the Docker's Wife some few days ago. They were told that a strange illness had befallen the city, including the Duke, it started ever since a teifling gypsey had managed to wheedle her way into the Duke's confidence and then gone on a mysterious sojourn into the castle crypt. Terry asked the party to go down into the crypt and investigate. Obviously the best way to do this would be to form some kind of crack team of special forces, and so the Thunder Guard was born. After much discussion the following ranks were decided upon:
Grand Master – Jeff
Head Captain – D'Hakken
Lead Captain – Hobb
High Commissioner - Faye
A suitable uniform proved to be a more tricky matter and the party left the office still discussing whether purple cloaks would be better than green…

Session 8 - Into the Crypt

DM: Leggy
Hobb - L2 Dwarf Cleric – tp
D'Hakken – L2 Half Orc Fighter – Ed
Faye Timberweald - L2 Half Elf Wizard – Mark
Jeff – L2 Elf Ranger – Jordan

Session played using roll20 during lockdown, NB quite some time has elapsed between playing and writing this up, some errors may therefore be found herein

The party headed off to the crypt below the palace. There was a statue outside the door, someone stuck a staff or similar in the statue (I think it had an orifice for this purpose) and the door opened. The party went into the crypt and were attacked by some zombie you I think may have been wearing the uniform of the last guards who were sent down here to see what was going on.

The then party found a room of cells. Hobb got his head stuck in some railing but managed to style it out. There was something (possibly a swarm of somethings) hiding under a blanket which attacked the party.

I think this is as far as we got.

Session 9 - Further Into the Crypt

DM: Leggy
Hobb - L2 Dwarf Cleric – tp
D'Hakken – L2 Half Orc Fighter – Ed
Faye Timberweald - L2 Half Elf Wizard – Mark
Jeff – L2 100% Elf Ranger – Jordan

Our heroes went further into the crypt where they discovered many tombs, they requisitioned a small amount of coin, which they took, seeing no sense in the rich of Tempestadt hoarding their wealth even after death, when there are starving people on the street. The dead dead did not give up their immoral wealth easily though and several skeletons rose, but they were no match for the party.
More danger came when the high tension got to two of the more sensitive party members, nerves frayed blows were exchanged between Hobb and D'Hakken and although a truce was reached it remains uneasy between the two.
Although initially there seemed nothing more suspicious in the crypt than the living dead, Jeff, using his detective skills spotted there were numerous footsteps in the dust which lead to an apparently blank section of wall. By inserting staffs into holes a previously locked and electrified door (capable even of withstanding D'Hakken's crotch thrusts) was opened, and from in here the secret section of wall was activated, revealing a shadowy passage. The party bravely (and some could say foolhardily) headed off without even a short rest into the dark, towards the sound of waves crashing…

The Aduck and the Angry Duke

DM: Leggy
Hobb - L2 Dwarf Cleric – tp
D'Hakken – L2 Half Orc Fighter – Ed
Faye Timberweald - L2 Half Elf Wizard – Mark
Jeff – L2 100% Elf Ranger – Jordan

After a brief rest to repose themselves the heroes headed down the passage towards the sound of water. After a half hour trek they found themselves in a vast cavern beneath the city. Pools of water lay around the perimeter, gurgling into the cave from a small spring in the one corner.
In the centre of the cavern lay a large skeleton which Hob, being a pretty bright individual immediately recognised as that of a dragon, quite likely the semi legendary Stormwing. 
The rocks up to the dragon were devilishly slippery and the shorter legged members of the party had some trouble getting up, but eventually perseverance paid off. 
Closer up the skeleton was huge, awe inspiring. What is more inside the ribcage was trapped a terrible creature, all mouths and slathering amorphous bulk. Jeff said what everyone was thinking “I bet you can’t stick your dick in that, D’Hakken…’ Never let it be said that the half-orc is not up for a challenge, for a couple of minutes later he had two gold pieces and an electrocuted member. It seemed some kind of magic was holding the creature inside the skeleton.
“What the hell is that thing?” someone asked.
“It’s an aduck,” Hob confidently told them. “Very common in the Purple Hills, completely harmless. Vegetarians.” 
Whilst D’Hakken, being the pervert he is continued to wave his todger around Hob and Jeff found two staff sized holes at either end of the dragon skeleton. They found that by inserting their staffs in here (the copper staffs that belong to the ruling family of Tempestadt, not their penises, what kind of idiot would go around sticking their penises in things?) the magical electricity of the skeleton was grounded. Whilst this meant that it would no longer electrocute an randy half-orcs it also meant the Aduck, which upon closer inspection actually might be some kind of devilish aberration, which for the sake of convenience let’s call a Gibbering Mouther, also got free. D’Hakken, his member now entangled in his chain mail loincloth, charged in to battle. Jeff and Fay gave support from a distance, though the Mouther periodically sprayed acid in their direction which, mucus like, clung to their skin and burnt their eyes so they could not properly see.
Hob charged in to help his comrade. Close to around the aberration reality itself seemed to warp. The hard slick stones of the cavern floor seemed to ooze like mud, clinging at the combatants feet. Worse though was the fog that clouded their minds, it took an immense feat of mental strength to keep their minds concentrated. Unfortunately this was too much for poor Hob, slack jawed he staggered away from the Mouther, starring in wonderment at a rock pool and the glimmering lights that played upon its surface.
Hob came to to find D’Hakken covered in gore and pieces of Mouther, possibly also suffering from the madness as he was ripping teeth from the aberration’s many mouths.
On a table next to the dragon skeleton Hob found a number of books, along with the following letter:
To an extent, it could be said that my experiment here is successful. The mouther’s powers of insanity have been amplified over a wide area. Yet the effects are so slow! It’s taken days for even the most weak minded denison of the castle to show symptoms. Perhaps the lingering magic in these dragon bones is too weak to power the spell? Further research is needed. 
Nonetheless, the point will be moot if my machinations over in the Purple Hills come to fruition. I leave forthwiffle Forthworth Firth fotherwy
Triumphant the Thunder Guard returned to the ducal palace. They were greeted first by Grimwald, the slippery Tax Collector who had assigned them their task. He agreed to put them up in the barracks, and what is more sent someone to fetch Hob’s dresses which he had arranged to have made some time earlier.
The next day the heroes were shown into the Small Council chamber and spoke directly with the Duke. Hob showed the proper deference due to such a distinguished individual, Fay, as usual, held her tongue but unfortunately the uncouth ways of the half-orc and the misplaced elvish snobbery of Jeff did not impress. Grateful as he was for the services rendered the Duke was also mightily angry and held back some of the gifts he had been planning to give them. To Hob though he still gave a magical javelin and to Fay he gave a wand.
Later that day the heroes harassed Terry Grimwald in his office but didn’t do any physical harm to him after he agreed to fund the Thunder Guard with uniforms, horses and maybe even a base of operations. It is possible he was already planning on supplying these items before he was held up against a wall by his throat, but really who knows.

The Gunpowder Plot (Widdleton)

DM: tp
Nescorin - L3 Gnome Warlock – Jordan
Rafe – L3 Dragonborn Fighter – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil - L3 Dwarf Cleric – Mark
The Relic – L3 Warforged Barbarian – Leggy
and introducing Reg - L1 Quasit Monk - As Himself

After defeating the Bullywug ambush the heroic adventurers took respite in the swamp ruins. The continuous rain scuppered efforts to start a camp fire so the adventurers spooned to keep warm whilst taking turns on watch.

All was well until some bobbing lights where spotted in the misty distance. They got closer until they were identified as three Will-o'-the-wisp (wotw), attracted to the dead adventure group and the still warm Bullywug corpses. Despite best efforts the marsh ruins offered little cover for hiding and the WotW attacked.

Mardred, hiding at the back, did most damage after summoning Marthammor Duins spiritual mace to flank attack whilst the Relic led the frontal attack. Ed died.

The WotW were soon dispatched and a restful nights sleep was had by all, followed by a gourmet Bullywug breakfast.

The adventurers carried on into the swamp only facing a few Bullywug stragglers who were quicky pulverised.

A small abandoned and ruined farm stead was found. Supplying a varying bounty of supplies and treasures and a large stash of gun powder.

The next area of the swamp had a fenced off lake, was it keeping something in or out? Mardred and the Relic attempted to pull some fence up, but were unsuccessful. The group were drawn to two magical totems. Mardred sensed the magic but still Nescorin and the Relic went too close and a bolt of lightning up the arse followed.

A bag of gunpowder was thrown (from a safe distance) by the Relic to the totem nearest the lake. Mardred followed with a cast of sacred flame.

BOOOMM….

The Frog Mother (Widdleton)

DM: tp
Nescorin - L3 Gnome Warlock – Jordan
Rafe – L3 Dragonborn Fighter – Ed
Mardred Brawnanvil - L3 Dwarf Cleric – Mark
The Relic – L3 Warforged Barbarian – Leggy
Reg - L1 Quasit Monk - As Himself

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The sound was accompanied by chunks of timber, gravel and other debris peppering the foolhardy adventurers.
As the dust cleared, they patted themselves down, and upon seeing the totem toppled before them (not to mention flattening much of the surrounding area, including part of the gigantic palisade separating the path from the lake), the party began grinning and congratulating each other, despite the ringing in their ears.
Perhaps then it was understandable that they didn't sense the approach of irate bullywugs, who'd come to have a quiet word about respecting the religious beliefs (not to mention territory) of others.

A party of bullywug warriors came charging down the path made previously impassible by the totem, banging their rusty weapons together and ribbeting for blood. At the same time, ranged scouts gathered atop a nearby cliff, readying their bows.
As Rafe and the relic engaged the warriors before them in a desperate melee, the excitement became too much for Reg, who fled the battle and hid, leaving Nescorin to fend for himself in the sights of the enraged archers. Struggling to hit them with a blast of his eldritch powers, Nescorin decided the best course of action was to protect Reg, and followed him, demonstrating how a deep gnome is able to conceal themselves in rocky terrain.
Mardred was made of sterner stuff, using her spiritual mace to annoy, if not injure the Bullywugs.

In the raging close quarter combat Relic and Rafe found themselves in, they appeared to be slowly gaining the upperhand, despite being outnumbered.
It was despite the whirling of blades, that the party became aware of a large wave in the lake, approaching them. 
With no time to question the cause, and turning back to the matter at hand, the combat was suddenly rudely interrupted by the appearance of a gigantic monster. 
Shockingly the creature matched the rough appearance of Rafe, only far larger - a giant crocodile!
The beast burst through the shredded palisade, and opening it's jaws, snapped them upon an unfortunate bullywug, twisting from side to side and quickly ending the frog-like warrior's existence.
Relic, deciding that one Rafe was already one too many, heroically threw himself upon the monster, grappling it in his powerful arms.
Nescorin, buoyed by the bravery of Relic, lept from his hiding spot, zapping bullywug after bullywug with his arcane might. Some might say that Mardred had weakened them first, but the fearsome display of sinister magic ensured the bullywugs would croak for their last time.
Rafe, with scant regard for his own personal safety, let alone that of his companions, packed a sackcloth filled with black powder beneath the soft underbelly of the giant croc, who was frantically trying to escape the relic, and thrashing his body and tail back and forth.
Retreating to what he considered a safe distance, Rafe commanded Mardred to ignite the powder, using the fiery gifts bestowed upon her by her god.
With a word to the heavens, Mardred gestured towards the reptile, and a holy light engulfed it in blinding light. This 'Sacred flame' as she called it, surprisingly contained no fire, leading this humble narrator to assume that the resultant explosion to be as a result of the black powder's evil nature, being suitably punished.
Unfortunately, not only was the powder punished, so were the daring heroes, and the monster they were engaged with.
Agonizing, searing pain burned into them (except Nescorin, who is made of sterner stuff), but again, once the cloud of dirt and reptilian scales had cleared, the giant beast still lived, albeit clinging onto life faintly; deep lacerations spilling its blood into the dirt.
Nescorin dispatched the final bullywug archer, and turned back to see Relic had slaughtered the beast with a killing blow, while Rafe had shouldered the warforge out of the way and was hurriedly removing the creature's head, presumably as a grisly trophy.
The party were desperate to press on, however Reg had been badly injured by the blast, so it was decided to rest and let everyone tend to their wounds.

After some time had passed, the heroes (wrapped in no small amount of bandages and ointment) made their way past the now-ruined totem, finding a scene of carnage.
Strewn on and around a bridge that led across a small lake, were the bodies of uncountable kobolds, butchered in battle. An examination of the scene led the party to believe the kobolds had attacked from the mountain above the lake, and had been left where they fell.
The party observed the bridge lead towards and into the rockface, and followed it to find a door flanked by ancient carved dragon statues, which Mardred, being of dwarven stock, realised were a) ancient, and b) in the image of dragons. 
The dragons bore a striking similarity to the dragon carving the adventurers had discovered in the kobold lair, in the quarry at Widdleston.

Entering the opening, the adventurers were sickened by the foul smell and sight that lay ahead of them (Rafe was at the rear, so it wasn't much better back there, either).
Inside what appeared to be a once-holy temple, sat a horrific frog-like creature, huge in stature, and partially submerged in a channel of fetid water.
Writhing tentacles churned the rancid pool surrounding it, and beside it stood a brown-roped bullywug, stroking the abhorant being.
To each side of the temple, a bullywug dressed in the manner of a shaman stood, roused by the sudden appearance of the adventurers.

The brown-robed attendant mouthed something to the party in its horrific frog voice, but whatever it wished to convey was lost in the resultant bellowing of the valiant champions, who surged forward, quickly dispatching the sorcerors before they could unleash their foul powers.

Rafe, clumsily trying to maintain a grip on his frost axe, shield, and the decaptitated head of a gigantic crocodile, stepped forward.
“Everybody back off! She's mine!” he roared.
His fellow adventurers looked at each other uneasily. 
Of course they knew Rafe had been acting oddly since the loss of his testicles, but did he really intend to make passionate reptile-amphibian love with what they could only assume was the hideous behemoth that had spawned the bullywugs that they had sworn to eradicate?
Surely no-one could possibly be attracted to such an gruesomely deformed grotesque creature? And equally, what did Rafe see in her?

It soon became apparent that rather than romance her, Rafe intended to penetrate her in quite a different manner entirely, and the less sensible members of the group approached to watch this claim that Rafe might achieve this by himself.

The Frog-Mother, as the band came to know her, was not at all pleased by Rafe's antics, and rather than listen to any more of his nonsense, instead took the sensible option, swallowing him whole.
This was a decision that suited both the horrendous creature herself, and also the party, as it meant finally some peace and quiet for all.
As the adventurers decided to forgive and forget, returning to the Crooked Kobold for some fine wine and a delicous meat pie (available at low, low prices), the behemoth lashed out, spurred on no doubt by the particularly creepy stroking fellow in the brown robe.
Eating Rafe is one thing, but trying to eat Reg - who, antagonised by the loss of his friend, had launched an attack upon the frog mother - was too much to bear for the heroes, and they launched an all out assault on the she-demon, with Relic jumping into the water and turning the brown-robed attendant into a paste, while Mardred was carefully trying to avoid the thrashing tentacles.
Somehow Reg had struggled free of the beast's tongue, and was somehow enticed to rescue Rafe by entering the Frog-Mother from the other end entirely; intending to meet Rafe in the middle.
“Heeelp meeeeeee! Heeeeeelp meeeeeeee!” a pitiful voice emanated from inside the gargant's stomach, accompanied by moist slashing sounds. Rafe was still alive, and trying to hack his way to freedom!
A combined effort from Rafe's desperate hewing internally, and the party of adventurers outside slashing inwards resulted in one final gargle as the Frog-Mother breathed her last; goo and giblets strewn around her resting place.
With some effort, Rafe extricated himself from the gigantic carcass, having seen sights few others would experience and live to tell the tell, and reeking of acidic stomach juices. Nethertheless, Reg and Rafe embraced tenderly, each vowing never to make the other worry again.
With the monster finally dead, the party became aware that the body of foetid water in which the daring adventurers found themselves (which will no doubt have given them all manner of horrific diseases in weeks to come) began to dissolve, leaving crystal clear water - it's holy power burning Reg and causing him to leap to dry land.
Looking into the water, the speculative heroes realised they had been blessed by its magical properties.
Rafe, who's testicular absence had been a long-standing sore point, realised that they had been restored, and if anything they were plumper than he remembered. He danced around excitedly, showing them off, although the only person to take any notice of them was Reg, who's eyes widened, possibly in fear, possibly in delight.

Examining the temple, the group discovered an ancient suit of armour, upon what may have been some kind of altar, scrawled upon with crude bullywug curse words and insults. 
The armour appeared to be platemail, and the altar was surrounded with ancient Draconic script. As the 'thinker' of the group, it was left to Nescorin to decipher, since the native Draconic speaker can barely read, let alone comprehend complex thoughts and instructions.
“It says you should wear this armour. It's 100% safe, it's the Armour of the Guardian, and if you wear it, you can be the Guardian” Nescorin confirmed, knowingly.
Rafe, not wanting to admit to being something of a simpleton, even by Dragonborn standards, nodded in agreement, believing Nescorin without question, after he'd at least been able to make out the glyph for 'Guardian'.
He quickly donned the armour, making sure to leave a weak point in the crotch, where he could expose his newly regrown gonads to passers by and unsuspecting old women.

After a brief respite, the adventurers returned across the lake bridge, and followed the path along the cliff face, until they spotted another set of Totem poles.
With Rafe agitated at the thought of getting his tackle electrocuted for a 3rd time, Relic suggested returning to the supply of black powder found previously, to restock. 
After doing so, the party decided to explore routes they had not yet probed, finding first a ruined shed of little importance, and then a building to the north, in slightly better condition. 
Noisily approaching this second building, the party were greeted by a wary voice, who expressed discontent towards Bullywugs, to which the party affirmed they held the same views. Venturing in, the group found a bearded man, shackled to the wall.
“That appears to be the gentleman from the missing poster we found on the body of the Tortle in the ruins” Nescorin pointed out.
The party debated the merits of freeing him immediately, or leaving him in situ in the relative safety of his makeshift prison, in order to be collected later. The vast reward for his safe return was surely not a factor in the brave adventurer's thinking.
Looking for other prisoners, the adventurers discovered a venomous elf thing, wild in nature, who uttered strange and terrifying sounds. Nescorin's efforts to placate her were unsuccessful, with his attempt to charm dispelled by a powerful anti-magic aura around her.
In an adjacent room, the party coerced an unfortunate young bullywug, Crispin, into joining the party, after he begged for his life, complaining that the other bullywugs mistreated him.
While Relic was calculating the pros and cons of squashing Crispin, in order to further his task of bullywug extermination, the party offered Crispin the opportunity to form a temporary alliance; with the aim of using him as a guide, in return for seeing his tormentors ruthlessly slaughtered.
Crispin claimed to be unaware of who his prisoners were, and despite being unable to communicate with the elf, she was released - only to flee angrily into the swampland.
The bearded man, identified by the party as Hestor Pfluph, claimed to be on an expedition, intending to meet first with a friend in Oxbridge.
Despite the parties pleas to remain in safety, or to accompany them, he announced his intention to continue to Oxbridge, and headed off, with the group unable to dissuade him.

Continuing along the remaining unexplored path the adventurers, along with Crispin, entered the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient temple.
Spotting some holes in the stone floor of the temple, Relic placed inside several carved staves he had earlier claimed from the bodies of the bullywug shamans.
With a crackle of energy, purple electrical currents flowed between them, and Relic, being the least concerned for his own health, placed his arm inside the meeting point.
As he withdrew it, the party were awed to discover that he had a fetching frog 'tattoo' etched upon his arm.
Crispin cheerfully informed the party that tattoos were what the shaman used to avoid getting reduced to ashes by the totem poles.
Mardred and Nescorin happily took advantage of the wonderous contraption, realising that having a frog sailor tattoo was preferable to having 50,000 volts coursing through their bodies.
Rafe, and by extension Reg, however, were too cowardly to place a limb into the shimmering energy.

The party spotting the ruins of a stone tower on a small island close to the edge of the lake, decided to clamber down the cliff face, using climbing equipment (except for the dwarf, who was possibly worried about Rafe looking up her dress), and enter the tower, where they discovered an ancient sword, bearing the Draconic for 'Guardian'. Realising this was likely a companion to the armour, it was given to Rafe, not least because the handle had long since rotted away (although the blade itself retained it's keen edge).

A sense of unease came over the band, as they began to question if there was a remote possibilty that Rafe actually was some kind of 'chosen one'. A concept truely horrifying to comprehend.
Fortunately their fears were quickly put at ease, as passing through a further pair of totems, Rafe and Reg were shocked to within an inch of their lives; lacking the magical tattoos the other warriors had gained.

Deciding that the bullywug threat had been quelled, with their exploration of the area now complete, our bold heroes decided to head back home, only shortly to discover Hestor's shouts for help, having fallen into the swamp.
Rescuing him from the mud in which he was trapped, and assuring him they would lead him to Oxbridge, the party made their way along the road, in quite the opposite direction.

The Road to Timberton

DM: Leggy
Hobb - L3 Dwarf Cleric – tp
D'Hakken – L3 Half Orc Fighter – Ed
Faye Timberweald - L3 Half Elf Wizard – Mark
Jeff – L3 Elf Ranger – Jordan

Having spent their days wisely in the mighty metropolis, our heroes gathered their travelling goods, horse, pony and ass, and headed off in good order towards the Purple Hills.
They got as far as the South Gate when they were greeted by their old friend, the scurrilous Terry Grimwald who was handing out pamphlets exhorting any adventurers who may wander into or out of the city to travel to the Purple Hills and catch the Teifling wench (who’s name escapes Hob just for the minute). Disgusted by the lack of faith Grimwald was showing in the already famous Thunder Guard but noting the burley Goliath he was hanging round with (Kurr was he name, if that coward Terry, is to believed), the heroes left the city and headed, without heed of their own safety, into the woods of Southern Tempestadt.
By the first night they happened upon one of that most famous of franchises a Redbottom Inn. The board and lodgings seemed satisfactory and so, after safely guarding Jeff’s bottom with magical wards and stowing their belonging in their rooms the party headed down to casually blend in with locals. There was a card game in progress, with ingratiating smiles and a warm manner Hob and D’Hakken chucked their silver onto the table and began winning the trust of these simple country folk. Unfortunately these were not the simple woodcutters the heroes took them for but rather devious card sharks who were obviously cheating. Through no fault of the dwarf or half-orc’s the card game dissolved into something of a brawl, which caused no little damage to the interior of the inn.
Despite the good coin the heroes had put behind the bar, the staff decided upon a petty and vindictive course of action that surely will win them no favour with travelling clientele in the long run. Calling the local law enforcement was obviously an over the top reaction and anyway, who the bloody hell do they think they were dealing with? They should show a bit more gratitude, that’s what they should do! But did the Thunder Guard stoop to their level? No. Did the Thunder Guard beat the two-bit, sheep-fiddling local guard into the middle of next month? No. They showed these yokels the meaning of class and left the village behind them, nothing but a sour memory and few broken chairs.
On the road the party came across a travelling band of Tieflings, one of their number having had a nasty accident with some kind of spike. Jeff and Hob went to see what the craic was and with a mixture of elvish magic and the enduring love of Bananarama (aya gawana) they cured the chap and determined the spike was nothing less than that of a Manticore. Jeff got a spiffing new cloak for his troubles and the party moved on, though not before they had noted the lack of young adults amongst their number. 
Some might ask why the Thunder Guard didn’t ask this travelling band of tieflings about the tiefling they were in fact looking for. But the ways of the Thunder Guard are mysterious and not easily fathomed by the average lay person.
Reaching Timberton after what seemed (quite accurately) like two days on the road, the party first found lodgings at the Hairy Lumberjack Inn. Well to be more accurate D’Hakken went to the Inn while the other three members, Fay, Jeff and Hob, went in search of pastries, for the half-orc claimed to have a hankering for a croissant. It seems croissants might not exist in this continuum, or at least the village of Timberton, but the Lord doth ever provide and Bananarama (aya gawana) breads proved to be a suitable alternative.
In the pub it was established that the local nobility, the Countess was due to arrive soon, and D’Hakken struck his most heroic pose and spent a lot of money on expensive wine (which Hob can attest was actually pretty good). For some reason the Countess actually seemed to take to the oafish man-orc, or maybe she saw him as some kind of curiosity. Maybe it was the smell of incense on his breath, who knows? What ever her reasons she implied the Thunder Guard would be well rewarded if they were to catch this manticore, which had been taking goats from the area. She also indicated that she was no fan of her cousin Graham LeDuke, which the Guard made mental notes of, and that she had links in Gef…
There was talk somewhere in the bar of a cheese maker, who had lost a goat the previous night. With out even a minor skirmish the Party left the pub and went to investigate the house of the cheese maker. He was a nervous fellow, but looking round his property the Guard noticed manticore tracks, right by the area where a goat had been taken. There was also a trail of blood which lead right towards the dark woods…