It’s the usual story. You’re walking along, minding your own business, looking at the stars, enjoying a mug of ale, when all of a sudden you get thrown through a Lunar Rift. And there you are, lying face down in the dirt, the supple flesh of a pumpkin staring back at you, and somehow, the nagging feeling this isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened. It was a painful landing and to make matters worse, the ale mug didn’t survive the trip. Now what are you supposed to do?

Fear not my weary friend, help is at hand. And rest assured, this is New Britannia, you can’t cast Immolation without hitting a tavern, so that ale mug shant be empty for long.

As you get your bearings, it’s best to try and help the local citizenry. You could go rushing off into the first forest or thicket you find, but to be honest, it’s not going to end well. There are Thugs, and Skeletons and Bears, oh my!

It’s time to take a moment and plan. Some of these citizens are displaced travelers like yourself, while others are looking for someone to get a job done. Completing these tasks should establish you as a virtuous soul and perhaps quell the fear that many feel towards Outlanders. Most of these will allow you nto their good graces without risking life and limb.


Japeth in the tavern needs some help getting a poem to his lady love
Bentley is looking for the key he left on his desk at home in East Perennial Trail
Geof wants and Iron Blade that can also be found in East Perennial Trail
Ashton wants a book of recipes he left behind in Solace Bridge
Raymond is looking for the hammer he left behind in Solace Bridge
Emily is looking for Quincy’s blade and the note he left for her in Solace Bridge
Jeanne needs help finding her daughter’s necklace that went missing in the Soltown cemetery
Edvald from Solace Bridge has a report that should be given to Stanley, the guard
Stanley, near the refugee camp could use a courier to Ardoris

Owl’s Head:

Ask Myra about her brother and visit the Clink in the upper market
Talk to Morton in the tavern and fetch his ledger from Kingsport
Visit the guards in the upper market and help out Winslow with some Healing Herbs from Kingsport
Thomas Strongbeard might need some help with his shipments of ale. Anton in Kingsport might be the right man to talk to


Chat with Bodan behind the tavern in Braemar about wolves that plague South Valeway. He could also use some help with a lost acquaintance of his in Owl’s Nest
Bridget could use some help in finding her lost husband Veimor. Seems he may have disappeared in West Ravenswood
Innkeeper Flynn is having trouble keeping his taps stocked too. Anton should be busy if you get this sorted out.

And now my friends, I hand you over to Quests of the Avatar, because everyone needs a bit of help in their way.

As for me? Well, I have some unfinished business in Soltown in regards to a fire-lighting miscreant that would do harm to those poor refugees.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

Since falling head first through the Lunar Rift and smashing that pumpkin patch, I have been trying to help out the citizens of the realm. While on the island of the Hidden Vale, I managed to help Morton with his Ledger, checked on Myron in the Clink – who refused my help, got that poor chap Winslow in the guard house back on his feet by fetching some healing herbs, brought some peace to Bodan in Braemar and took care of that nasty wolf problem he was talking about and even pointed Kelly of Owl’s Nest in a new direction and perhaps she will leave that rapscallion band of Red Sash Bandits. Being the only maiden in those caves, I fear for her propriety.

With those victories under my belt, I felt it best to bring some comfort to the refugees in Soltown. The guard clued me in to their plight and so far, I have done a bit of all right. Since they left Solace Bridge in such haste, I began my searches within those ruins.

I got Fighting Raymond his blasted hammer back, without much thanks I confess. I had to search all over that burned out wreck of building before finding it. It couldn’t be next to the anvil, oh no, that would have been too easy. It has to be on the opposite side doesn’t it! I managed to find Quincy’s belongings safely tucked away in a chest at the foot of his bed. At least, I assume it was his bed. There was no one to ask about such matters. I found a Suspicious Character lurking about the Soltown cemetery and when questioned on his doings, I was summarily ignored. His rifling over the grave stones gave me pause and since Jeanne was looking for a lost necklace, he seemed like a prime candidate for the misdeed. Geof is now all set up with his Iron Blade, although if he plans to use it to fight evil, he will in fact have to leave the town at some point.

In Soltown itself, I listened to the tavern banter and offered my services to Bentley and brought back a mysterious key from his less than savory domicile in the swamp of the East Perennial Trail. I think that chap is up to a bit of no good to be honest.

One soul beyond saving was Japeth. When I found him out in the back alley getting sick all over the side of the tavern, he told me his sad story of unrequited love. I volunteered to take his poem to his intended, but in the end it was not a success. However, I don’t get the sense Emily is the right lass for him as she has definite airs above her station. She can talk all she wants about her grand vision of the future while she swings that broom.

I even helped Ashton retrieve his long lost recipe book, but after sneaking a peek at the contents, I regret my decision. I think his relations may have changed on him.


Is there a particular reason we are meeting out here on these rocks away from town? Did I interrupt you in mid fish?
Wait a moment, are you doing naughty things to the water supply?


Good heavens, Japeth! This will never do my friend. This is not the sweet song of seduction in anyone’s book.


Oh my dear fellow, you may not have seen any dangerous animals, but they certainly saw you.
Oh well, back to the task at hand. I’m sure there’s an Iron Blade out here somewhere.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

With my bitter feud with the local vendor still raging, yet being low on Spider Silk that is used in the wondrous skills of creating a fabulous ring of fire and calling the Air Elemental to my rescue, I had no choice but to head out into the woods and harvest the silk myself. Of course, this meant facing one of my deadliest foes and greatest fears, the Red Spider. The mere thought of it gives me the creeping horrors; those cold lifeless eyes, those excruciatingly long and dangerous looking fangs, the hideous and troubling number of legs covered in fur, that bulbous back end that hides a terrible, venomous secret. I’ve been face to face with these monstrosities on many occasions and each time I feel the burning sting of their venom as it courses through my veins. And my Air Elemental has proven to be both unsuited and equally unwilling to suck out the poison in my hour of need.

But this time, I had a new plan. As I quietly followed the path through Deep Ravenswood, I located their lair. My plan was to lie in wait and spring upon them as they came out of their darkened hovel for a spot of breakfast. As the morning sun peaked over the horizon, I set my designs in motion.

As the first unholy creation stepped into the light, down came the sword. The Air Elemental discharged a magnificent bolt of lightning that stunned the bejeebers out of the fuzzy devil. I immediately had the upper hand and crushed the life right out of it. I set to work extracting the needed Spider Silk, but, the sound of the commotion had awakened the hillside and the cave itself. Within moments, several of them were coming right toward me. It was time for the cleansing power of fire and so the ground was scorched with Immolation. And it worked perfectly. They walked right into my trap and I took great satisfaction in their cries for distress, although the smell of burning spider was both noxious and overwhelming.

With those vermin flat on their backs and their little legs twisted and useless, I harvested my silk. I realize I should not take pleasure in the misfortune of others, but I let out joyful cries of glee as I dispatched each and every one on of the hairy beasts.

My wild cackling must have raised the ire of the clan and soon another swarm was on the move. But this time, I was flanked to the left and right, cutting off my escape. I showed them my intentions with a healthy dose of fire. They showed me their intentions with multiple stinging attacks of venom right in the backside. It stung like blazes, but I stood my ground. The Air Elemental launched static bolts, stopping the beasts in their tracks as I swung like fury. Several of them met their end, but taking so many venomous bites started to cloud my judgement.

I felt it best, even though I no longer had any feeling, to make a hasty retreat and ran in the opposite direction of the spiders. A tree barred my path, but even under the influence of venom I was able to negotiate a treaty with it and afford myself passage. But then, things began to take a turn. I made it to the path and stumbled my way toward safety. I heard an angry sound rustling over the leaves and turf. So much venom, so little vision.

Stumbling and dragging my winged helm through the dirt, I made my escape. I collapsed just outside the forest, a stockpile of Spider Silk on my person. I may have lost consciousness and the use of my limbs, but I showed that vendor I could get my own reagents and saved myself some coins.SotA_06-29-16_8-28_1

Be very, very quiet, we’re hunting Red Spiders. You draw them out, then I’ll scorch the ground and smack them over the head. Simplistic yes, but it should be effective.


Ha ha! You’ve all fallen into my diabolical trap! Take that, every last one of you! 


Well, that wasn’t so bad. Now for a quick bit of harvesting and I’ll be on my way.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

The events of Valhold left me a shattered man. All that family drama, not to mention the stone cold violence, put me in a foul mood and I felt I needed a distraction. I know Boreus is still in a bit of bother, but he’s been under wraps for this long, a few more days or so won’t make much difference. Not to mention my air elemental has been complaining nearly non-stop that I rely on her too much, that I put her life in jeopardy, that I’m going to get us both killed, or worse. I’m not sure what she means by the “or worse” bit. I’m reasonably sure the being dead part is in fact on the end of the scale, but who knows how these elementals think. Regardless, my nerves were frayed.

To find some peace and tranquility, I found myself wandering along the shoreline of Novia. The names of the towns had a menacing undertone, or put forth the idea of endless commercialism so I avoided them. I felt dejected until I spied a lighthouse in the distant. Ah, a lighthouse, what could be more representative of tranquility and relaxation than that? And more than likely, it was tended by a kind and gentle soul who would welcome a weary traveler and afford accommodation for a night or two. I consulted the map given to me by a peddler in the street, but my direction was still not clear. I should have spent the extra coins and purchased a map from the proper map vendor. The one written by the child I was trying to help was devoid of landmarks, was riddled with X’s and notations of “buried treasure here” and had been scrawled using an ink that wasn’t permanent. Thus, portions of the map were missing and all I could discern was the “here there be dragons” warnings he’d left for me. At least he was concerned at my falling off the edge of the world. It seems he sensed my directional prowess.

I soldiered on in the direction of the lighthouse, but due to shifts in the landscape, a precipice, a crevasse, a bridge with a troll I was in no frame to content with and a series of unfortunate navigational miscalculations, I ended up in the Brittany Cemetery. My disposition was not lifted.

After trying several of the ferries and ending up on the wrong mainland, I broke down and asked for directions. I was informed the proper boat to the lighthouse was further down the coastline. I made my way further on, the jeers of laughter fading in the distance.

At last, I found the correct boat and set sail for the small island where I hoped I would be greeted by peace and tranquility. I was greeted by utter silence.

I knocked repeatedly and finally, Elad made his way down the stairs to let me in.

“Sorry about the delay,” he said in a soft voice. “Stairs are a bit of a chore these days. Have to take them one at a time, lest I take a nasty tumble and end up who knows where. Come in, come in!”

It was an understated domicile, with a small entryway, but a massive staircase that scaled the walls of the lighthouse.

“Come to see the light have you?” he asked as I watched the stairs wind up out of sight.

“Well, yes, actually I have,” I replied. “I’ve been the victim of several disappointing personal life events and was looking for solace in solitude. It seems a lighthouse and thus a lighthouse keeper would be the ideal.”

“Very well! Very well indeed,” he said joyfully. “Come on, up to the top. Got to keep an eye on the light.”

I followed as we made our way up the hundreds of stairs. We soon came to his sitting room and he invited me to take a look at the view while he prepared a suitable repast. The view was striking, the air cool and fresh, the sound of the waves against the rocky outcropping a pleasure to behold. I felt the tribulations of the previous adventures falling away.

I rejoined Elad who brought wine and cheese. “Have some cheese,” he said eagerly. “I like cheese. I’m a cheese cutter from way back. Come from a long line of cheese cutters. But now I’m a lighthouse keeper. A darn good one too. Light comes on at night, goes off in the day. Easy as can be. Well, except for the repairs, the gears, the cogs, maintenance, the lamp oil, the rain and a few other tidbits not worth mentioning. Do you play chess?”

His words hit me like a hammer. He was rapid fire and excitable. I gathered he didn’t get many visitors. “Oh, course I do,” I lied.

“Sit down, sit down, let us play a game. I’ll tell you all about Lord British,” he said with great excitement as he set up the board. “Oh, that Lord British, he’s a wonderful collector of things. Always looking for new trinkets, books, what have you. I work for him you know. Or at least I think I do. Haven’t seen him much lately. Not sure I even get paid. But no matter, the light must remain on, even though there hasn’t been a boat in these harbors for decades, and the sea provides all that I need.”

I don’t know if it was Elad’s exuberance in storytelling or my lack of understanding of the rules, but I lost in three moves. It wasn’t the defeat that bothered me, I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but the throwing down of the pieces and the dance of victory I felt was a bit much. The repeated hip thrusts were certainly over the top and I had to avert my gaze. However, I was the guest and abided by the rules of the house.

In the rematch, I faired no better and lost in three moves again. Elad said my leading with the piece known as the queen had been my downfall. I made note of that for the next game and although Elad was taken aback by my blistering opening gambit with the pawn, I was trounced in five moves.

Having worn himself out from all the wild gyrations at my expense, Elad said he would turn in for the night. I was welcome to stay and take the room on the lower floor. I eagerly took him up on the offer.

For the next two days, I spent a very peaceful time in the lighthouse, looking out over the sea, fishing along the shore and gazing at the stars. It’s hardly worth mentioning, but I did lose sixty-five games in a row to Elad, but I was getting better. I managed to hold him off for nearly six moves and captured one of his pawns. It was a triumphant sabbatical.


Ah, a vision of serenity. Now, if I could only find the &*$%ing boat to get me over there.


An auspicious dwelling to be sure. Hopefully Elad is home and welcoming to visitors. I hear lighthouse keepers are a docile bunch, but you never know, he could spring on my like a cat, drown in the sea, cut me up for chum and none would be the wiser.


Elad! Good evening! My I intrude upon your hospitality for a night or so?

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

Why can’t the abandoned ruin actually be abandoned? Why must they always be inhabited by something evil, sinister and intent on doing me harm?

As mentioned, I waited for the cover of darkness then stealthily entered the Crypt of the Avatar, as Thanatos requested. With my trusty companion Samael, we moved down the long corridor into the mysterious chamber. From the start, it had a sinister air, like death and cabbage. It was clear, we were not alone. There was a guardian calling herself the Warmaiden and her counterpart Miles Shepherd, apparently some sort of Ambassador.

I made ready to strike, but Samael informed me that creating a whirlwind of chaos wouldn’t advance our quest. Instead, he suggested I introduce myself, drop the name of Thanatos at the pivotal moment and see how I could be of assistance.

I’m under the assumption these two don’t get many visitors as they were a wealth of information and kept me engaged for quite some time. They relayed many tales, including details of an Aren Bennis, none of which boded well.

But as we unraveled the mysteries, we learned that we needed to move on, to pay the ferryman and move deeper into Midras. Samael, took his leave to make preparations for our journey. I took the opportunity to investigate the catacomb. I should have departed with Samael, as this tomb is riddled with the undead and an abundance of horrors. Some horrible deeds have taken place in this catacomb and while certain doom awaits, it felt a better alternative than my current location.

I learned that one does not simply enter Midras, you must sneak upon it’s shores under guise. When I found Samael, in the town center of Spite, he informed me that the ferryman would take us to the other side, but we would have to hide ourselves among the dead. This trip is getting worse with every step.

With no other options, we agreed to these terms, met the man at the docks and crossed the river under silence. And just when I thought the passage couldn’t get any worse, it did. Having the stench of death saturate me is one thing, but landing on shore to discover we have to enter a cave that looks to be a menacing carved skull made me want to turn around and head back to the local tavern. Nothing good comes from entering a cave like that. Nothing!

I offered to buy the first round for Samael, if he agreed to jump back on the boat and say nothing about any of this. He denied me. The damnable fool was already off and waiting for me to catch up.

The halls of the cave were a terrible place, with twists, turns and false corridors. Multiple times spiders dropped in from nowhere, full of venom and ill-tidings. Samael, was too busy chatting up a ghost to be of any use to me. I had to do all the work with the help of my air elemental.

Finally, I discovered the right corridor, but the way was blocked by some mysterious force. I had to piece together a series of letters found on the bones of those less fortunate than myself and felt it proper, that if I should make it out of this cavern alive, I would do my best to deliver them. Someone must know these poor souls.

Since death was imminent, I took out a new sheet of paper and wrote my own final thoughts. I kept it short and to the point so that others might learn from what transpired in the cave:

“Mistakes were made”

Then it was time to speak with Anapa. This poor soul did not look to be in the peak of health and had nothing but vitriol to spit at me. He verily exuded contempt and hatred toward me. I tried to be the voice of reason and offer my help, but progress was not forthcoming. He refused my cordial offer of a tankard of ale and frowned sternly upon a bowl of mutton. I even offered to spritz up the place with the strategic placement of a few whimsical jack-o-lanterns. My tidings of joy were not well received and Anapa has a severe aversion to the orange gourd.

And like so many other malcontents that have been locked away too long, Anapa ordered his minions to attack. The musty room became a theater of slaughter. I was beaten savagely and had to make a tactical retreat on more than one occasion. My sword was crumbling to mere shavings and I had to resort to a rusty sword I managed to salvage from one of the fallen. I plunged into a melee with Anapa himself. The odds were shockingly stacked against us, but somehow, perhaps luck favors the desperate and confused, the air elemental and I were triumphant.

Since all the dangerous work had been done, Samael piped in with some sage words of advice. Pressing further we made a dreadful discovery. Locked away was Sequanna, the Titan of Love. I did my best to free her, but she explained her destiny was elsewhere.

Now that the fury of Anapa was contained, Sequanna had hearts to heal and instructed us to make haste to find Grannus and Boreus. They most likely had met with a similar fate and were being confined in a similar fashion.

Grannus and Boreus? Hold on a moment now, there are more of you that let yourselves get captured? I have to face more horrors, more terrible caves, more rabble-rousers with designs on realm domination and ruin yet more of my good leggings to free you vagabonds?

There better be a darn good reward at the end of all this.


Hmm, creepy sarcophagus with beams of light streaking down. Quick, let’s go have a look!


Ok, no reason to panic. This in no way means we won’t get out of here alive.


I like the chamber, but I could do without the warrior decorations on the side. They bring down the overall mood of the place.


Say hey! Quick, give me a boost so I can nick the cup! One drink limit at the pub indeed, we’ll show them!


Absolutely nothing right about this. Nothing.


Ok, A for creepy atmospheric effect. I don’t even want to know what this green vapor is.


Anapa! I’ve been looking all over for you. Thanatos sent me. By the way, love the space, could use a bit of cheering up as far as decor goes, but overall, quite lovely.


What the devil do we have here? Samael, don’t just stand there, chip off some of that good ice and we’ll break out the drinks!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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