There are still plenty of seats available for some AMAZING Greyhawk Reborn tables at Save Against Fear
Registration for Save Against Fear can be found at: https://www.thebodhanagroup.org/registration
BEFORE you sign up for games on our Warhorn, you MUST register through the convention’s website.
You can find out more information about the convention here: https://www.thebodhanagroup.org/about-the-convention
After registering through the convention website, you can sign up for games at our Greyhawk Reborn Warhorn site here: https://warhorn.net/events/greyhawk-reborn-game-day
We can’t wait to share some great adventures with you all!
Plans in the Dark by Gary Allison
Patchwall 2, 618 CY
A Keoland Narrative for GHR-KEO18-18, Hool Hunts Hool? by Gary Allison with Dave Guerrieri, premiering at Save Against Fear on October 12, 2018
In a dark area deep underground, a vast cavern stretches out of sight. Wind whistles through the surrounding passages. A huge, hulking shape is partially seen, surrounded in shadows. Its deep, rumbling voice breaks the silence. “The fool Longtooth, he is dead, then? Werevermin should never be trusted!”
A growling voice replies. “It was Longtooth who found and captured Father Bear’s minion, Great One.”
“And it was the Rat who lost the dagger and his body!” is the shouted reply. “Do we even know if Balador’s trash is alive or dead?”
“No, Great One. He was still living when Longtooth fell.”
“Assemble the hunters. Send them forth. Kill the scum who aided the druid. Kill them all! And bring back that dagger!”
“As you command, Great One. Shall we send Cancer and Plague to the Druids?”
(A laugh that sounds like two boulders rubbing together.) “Why, yes, little one. Let them do what they do best.”
Sign of the Times by Tony Antonich
Patchwall 1, 618 CY
A Keoland Narrative for GHR-KEO18-12, The Seller Beware by Tony Antonich and Dave Guerrieri, premiering at Save Against Fear on October 12, 2018
The figure leaned back into the chair and surveyed the map and scrolls scattered across the table in front of him. His hand reached for the cup full of wine, lifted it to his lips and took a long swallow. He gazed at the small metal figures that he placed on the map a few days ago. His fingers traced the roads to the cities and towns that he had traveled to. He continually went over his careful plans in his mind, absently scribbling on the parchment, crossing off one idea or thought after another until he was satisfied with the final product.
He had taken precautions, laid plans within plans, but was it enough? The wind outside brought his attention back to the map. Everything had fallen his way so far. There would be setbacks, but that was to be expected. Machinations had been started and the final picture was coming into focus. For years he had bided his time and cautiously enlisted help, and now the time for him to act was close at hand.
The sound of the crackling fire and the wind outside relaxed him, all his belongings were around him in the Daern’s Fortress that he had taken as his home. He began to ponder times gone by, comrades known and now gone, places he had seen and adventures he had. He remembered the summons and the secret gathering and the Queen stepping aside, and of vows and deals broken and potential unfulfilled. All that time and effort cast aside. Just like in his youth.
He remembered watching as others forgot their place, and unrightfully claimed what should have been his. He watched as years passed by, and what once was a profitable group was now was reduced to petty squabbling and limited vision. He would change all that. Once again, they would rise and be stronger than before. They would take their rightful place at the table along with the other guilds. “Render that which is the Guild’s to the Guild” he thought.
And there were others who would pay as well, people from his past that offered insult or injury would be brought to pay the cost of their folly. The Shadowdark, yes, they too would pay, and their leader who thought royalty would protect her from their reach.
Soon, very soon, the Guild would come forth from the shadows. Hard lessons of the past would now burn a path to the future.
He raised the cup of wine to the grinning and scowling crest above the fireplace, “Olidammara, my friend, bring me luck” and he spilled some of the wine on the floor, before finishing it. “We just might pull this off”.