Seven of us gathered at the Lost Dice in Adelaide to play our first full session in the adventure A Shadow Over Morndale. Session 0 had gone well and we were all keen to pick up the dice again soon after, but real life got in the way and it took me longer than I expected to be prepared enough to run an open-world adventure in a large market town.

We were joined by another player this time, Evan, bringing another powerful warrior into the party. Who, by the way, had decided upon a name for themselves – “The Order of the Lost Dice.”

The Road to Merridale

After Rendil Morn rode off with his troops and wagons, a quiet descended on the scene. Flies began to buzz around the Orcish corpses and a few crows landed in a nearby tree, waiting for a chance to pick at the bodies. Samira began rummaging through the blood-stained clothing of the orcs and found a few silver coins and a medallion. Everything else of value had been taken by Morn’s men, but the medallion was left behind. It appeared to be a plain iron disk with a winged serpent embossed into it. Samira looked at it curiously and then slipped it into a fold in her cloak.

Heading up the hill, they made their way back to the road. A grunting noise and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the dirt could be heard on the other side of the ridge. Cautiously, they looked to see what was waiting for them on the road. A large, well-muscled Half-orc was lifting the tree and clearing the blockage on roadway. He stopped when he saw the party and bared his teeth, saying “Did you find a medallion? Give it to me. Now!”

Samira stood very still. She looked to her friends for support and saw Corvis peering at the newcomer. “I know you… Thuramarsh?” he said. The Half-orc looked at the Ranger and his frown lifted as recognition dawned. “Corvis? I remember. Good venison!”

“Everyone, it’s fine. This is Thuramarsh, a Half-Orc I met once while hunting. We were both tracking the same deer and both shot it at the same time. We laughed and shared the meal over a campfire.” Thuramarsh stretched out his arm and Corvis gripped it, nodding. “Samira., let him have the medallion – it’s worthless anyway.”

Samira gingerly reached into her cloak and pulled out the medallion. The half-orc snatched it and then pulled another identical medallion from his belt. Sprinting up to the top of the hill, he hurled the medallions away, down into the valley below.

“Why did you do that?” Perris asked when he returned.

“Because otherwise the Zhentil troops will find them … and we’ll be dead.”

Crossing the Threshold

The road crisscrossed down the face of the hills and began to level out. A bubbling beck cascaded down from the hills above taking melt-water to the river valley below. The path led across the stream by a large thorn tree. As they approached, a shrouded figure could be seen bending over in the shadows of the tree, apparently washing something in the water of the ford.

The party stopped. The figure was a kindly old woman, kneeling down and washing clothes in the waters of the ford. Corvis approached her cautiously. “How far is Merridale Falls from here?” he asked.

The old lady stopped her washing and looked up. She paused and then said…

“The ford must be crossed
And legs must be strained
Ere daylight is lost
Your goal will be gained.”

The hairs on Corvis’ neck bristled. Behind him, he could hear a soft whimper come from Rover, but Corvis pressed on. “What do you know of the Night Fever?” he asked. The old lady smiled.

“You come to find a cure
But will you find the cause?
Of naught can you be sure
If you choose to stay indoors.”

Keeping an eye on the eerie old lady, Corvis retreated to where the others waiting. “She’s creepy,” he said. Thuramarsh impatiently pushed past him and strode down to the ford. “Is there a cave near here?” he demanded. Without missing a beat, the old woman replied…

“A hole in the hill,
Where none will now go.
‘Neath waterfall’s chill
There lies shadow.”

“You have asked me three questions, so now you must answer three of mine.”

Rover whimpered loudly.

“It is the Law of Threes,” the old woman continued, “and payment must be made.”

She slowly stood up and stepped backwards into the shadow of the thorn tree. And then she was gone. All that remained was a pool of blood spreading from where the clothes were being washed and a cackling laugh echoing on the breeze.

“A pact is struck – as old as Time.
The gift of knowledge is ne’er free,
So answer me my questions three.
Once the morning bells doth chime,
Answer thee with honest breath
Or pay the price – truth or death.”

Merridale Falls

Rover paced back and forth, his arms clutched tightly around his chest. “I’ve met one of these before” was all he offered. Thuramarsh snarled, “We’ve got to get to Merridale before nightfall. Come on.”
He led the way down the hill and into the light forest that ringed the township. Crofters’ houses clung to the hillsides and the sounds and smells of civilisation reached them as the party approached the town. A stone tavern lay on the southern side of a river crossing and the township itself was visible on the far side of the ford, its palisaded walls and guard towers standing threateningly in the darkening light. The sun was setting. They had only just reached the town by nightfall.

Knowing too well the suspicious nature of the Zhentil guards, Thuramarsh suggested a plan. Bury their weapons in the forest and pose as travellers. The guards would not take lightly to anyone carrying weapons into the town.

…

Tennegel was weary. The day had been long and tiring as farmers and merchants from up and down the valley had passed through the gates, ready for the market tomorrow morning. Thankfully the sun was setting so the gates would soon be closed. He could finish his duty and take his boots off in the common room of the Broken Dagger. Rendoran and Temmin are handling the night watch tonight. They can deal with the Nightshades.

The thoughts of ale and gammon steaks were scattered to the wind when a thickset Dwarf woman said “Are you even listening?”

“What a strange way to start a conversation,” he thought to himself.

“The gates will be closing for the night. State your name and your business in Merridale Falls.” He paused. “Wait a minute,, you’re a Dwarf. What are you doing here?” He looked up. Standing before him, behind the Dwarf lady, was a Tabaxi, doing a bad job of hiding his furry face beneath a ridiculously large hat – the fluffy ears poking out through the brim kind of gave things away. A short dark-skinned Gnome lady stood behind him and a pointy-eared elf, no… half-elf was cloaked in forest colours and clearly seemed out of place in the gateway.

Tennegal’s eye was caught by a flash of blue as another figure moved forward. A tall, stunningly attractive Elven lady with blue hair and a graceful poise smiled coyly at the guard. Behind her was a hulking shape, its head shrouded in what looked like a ragged bedroll.

But the blue-haired lady…

“Go straight in,” he said. “The Broken Dagger is off to the right. Head to the Temple and it’s along the north wall.” I’ll be there in about half an hour, he thought.

Session 0 – An Ambush on the Road