Hey guys. Below is the introduction to my recently ran Beyond the Thunder River Campaign. Over the next few days I will be posting further parts of the ongoing Campaign for those who are interested. Without further adue, the Introduction.......
Player Introduction
Restless Aquilonia, the pride of the West, the jewel of the Hyborian nations, was hungry for land. To the north lay Cimmeria, a land that had earlier embarrassed the Aquilonians when the latter had pushed into Cimmeria, establishing ill-fated Venarium, but this foreboding and depressing land was deemed unconquerable. To the east lay Nemedia and Ophir, Hyborian nations with organised armies and the means to purchase innumerable mercenaries. To the south, Argos and Zingara, with their glittering sea ports and beauteous farmlands and vineyards. Their diplomats, however, worked hard to establish treaties and prevent invasions from the Aquilonian lion.
Where should the Aquilonians turn for growth but toward the untamed Pictish Wilderness that rose to the west? The Picts were unorganised, save for small clans, and were nothing more than naked savages that beat their drums and danced to gruesome gods in the night. So it was only natural that King Vilerius of Aquilonia would issue a patent granting right to the lands west of the Bossonian Marches, calling the new province the Westermarck. These land rights were given to barons of the western marches just to the east of the Bossonian Marches.
These barons would own the land, receiving a certain percentage of the gain each year in return for supplying troops to protect the new frontier against the Picts, and colonists to build fortresses and towns, colonising the new land in the name of Aquilonia. Travelling by any means available, and leading caravan trains of their belongings, goods and cattle, Aquilonians moved into this new region. Scouts and traders first ventured into the dark forests and dank swamps, to mark out territories and fiefs for their barons. Missionaries of Mitra arrived to minister to the colonists and convert the savages. Loggers followed, cutting down the ancient timbers, clearing vast tracts of forest for the fortresses and cities, creating roads and trails for the expected influx of settlers. Then came the prostitutes, brought in by entrepreneurial merchants to cash in on the lonely desires of the trappers and loggers, soon after the small trading and logging villages were established, the families came to the Westermarck. Migrating across hundreds of miles worth of marches, these pioneering Aquilonians travelled in great numbers to the unknown West, guided by trappers and scouts, to the new lands they would settle and work. Most of these frontiersmen were not wealthy, neither were they destitute serfs; buying the supplies and gear for such a long trek was not cheap. They were hardy and desperate enough, however, to try and eke out a new life in a largely untamed wilderness region to better their own economic or political situation.
Wary of the greed of the Bossonian lords, King Vilerus gave these royal patents to three barons of the western marches of Aquilonia and divided the land into three provinces: Oriskonie, Conawaga and Schohira. This trio of barons sold the land in portions known as ‘hides’, a vague measurement that varied between 60 and 120 acres, to commoners who agreed to work the land and pay taxes to the baron presiding over the province as a whole. The barons, in return promising military protection for these commoners as part of this feudal obligation. Many of the immigrants that flowed into the colonial lands came from the Tauran; already well versed in the art of forestry and rustic living, many wanted a try at truly taming a wilderness and owning their own land.
Later, another province would be added by the avaricious Aquilonians, Conajohara. Poorly defended by King Numedides, Vilerius’ successor, it was not long before Conajohara was overrun and reclaimed by the Picts. The great de-settlement of Conojohara resulted in the trail of tears, a mass exodus from these lands and from the ashes of that fallen province, Thandara was formed, although this province would not be controlled by Aquilonian barons or dominated by Aquilonian politics.
It has been ten years since the tragic fall of Fort Tuscelan and the reclamation of Conajohara by the Picts. After its fall, the Viscount Lucian became governor of the province of Conajohara, residing in his fort at Velitrium, the last remnant of a once promising province. Lucian’s predecessor, Valannus, was to take the fall for the events that befell Conajohara; being stripped of his Governorship to be replaced by a man whom the rumours say has more interest in profits and advancing his station than in the true welfare of the Westermarck. It is in these tragic times that our heroes come forth, sworn to fight and if need be die for the land they would call their own.
In the decade that has passed from those terrible times, life has been as ever hard on the frontier, and finding a suitable woman was forever on the men’s minds. It is with great excitement that our heroes have travelled to the Conawagan capital of Scandaga this year, to celebrate the annual festival of planting. The festival is sacred to the god Mitra, and takes place in the capital each year, when folk would gather from all over the province to find wives and husbands, to receive the blessing of a good crop in the coming year and of course last but not least, to take part in the festivities of the fair which accompanies the spring festival. It is a fine opportunity for the young men to test their skills against those of their peers, show off in front of the young women and earn a name for themselves. Merchants, entertainers and more from beyond the Bossonian marches would cross into the province also, eager on selling their wares and stripping the men of their hard earned pay. The festival comes to its three day conclusion with an all day feast and all night drink and dance. The fourth day, whilst not part of the festival itself, is of great import also, when the assembled Fortress Commanders from across the province gather to meet for the annual War Council, there to discuss the year past and year to come. There has been great excitement and expectation about the festival this year. Baron Brocas of Torh was to be in attendance personally to oversee the festivities. It was rumoured he was providing escort to a larger than usual string of merchants and bringing with him nearly two dozen women destined for bonded servitude on the frontier. With such a prestigious guest in attendance this year’s festival was surely one to be remembered.
Our heroes have just arrived in Scandaga on the eve of the festivals beginning. The trek from their Fort on the banks of the Thunder River has been a long and hard one, but thankfully not fraught with much peril. In fact no peril at all. Things have been eerily quiet this year, too quiet. There have been no stirrings across the river for the guts of a year, and people are starting to wonder what the devilish Picts are up to.
Our heroes pass through the boisterous Northend of the city, passing merchants homes, trading posts closed for the day, on by several bawdy houses and pubs, even passing an up market brothel on the corner of Smiths Row. Music and laughter greet the characters ears as they pass by the buzzing and overcrowded drinking houses. Scandaga is filled to bursting point with men and women from across the province in attendance for the festival. Crossing the small shrine to Mitra which marks the edge of the Northend District our heroes pass onto the main city thoroughfare. To the west lies the Lake District, dominated by aptly named Tall Tower, standing some 70 feet tall overlooking wealthy frame houses and Mitraic shrines. To the east lies the Eastend, home to the landed patricians and nobles of Scandaga, and is filled with stately framed buildings, public buildings, courts and the mansion like home of the Governor Flavius. To the south lies the destination of our heroes: Soldiersfort. Standing some 30feet tall and boasting seven wooden towers, this small fort is built of hewn logs and split boards. The sharpened log palisade is surrounded by a deep water filled ditch with water diverted from the nearby lake. As you approach you see two Gunderland pikemen in full finery flanking the gates to the fort.
Player Introduction
Restless Aquilonia, the pride of the West, the jewel of the Hyborian nations, was hungry for land. To the north lay Cimmeria, a land that had earlier embarrassed the Aquilonians when the latter had pushed into Cimmeria, establishing ill-fated Venarium, but this foreboding and depressing land was deemed unconquerable. To the east lay Nemedia and Ophir, Hyborian nations with organised armies and the means to purchase innumerable mercenaries. To the south, Argos and Zingara, with their glittering sea ports and beauteous farmlands and vineyards. Their diplomats, however, worked hard to establish treaties and prevent invasions from the Aquilonian lion.
Where should the Aquilonians turn for growth but toward the untamed Pictish Wilderness that rose to the west? The Picts were unorganised, save for small clans, and were nothing more than naked savages that beat their drums and danced to gruesome gods in the night. So it was only natural that King Vilerius of Aquilonia would issue a patent granting right to the lands west of the Bossonian Marches, calling the new province the Westermarck. These land rights were given to barons of the western marches just to the east of the Bossonian Marches.
These barons would own the land, receiving a certain percentage of the gain each year in return for supplying troops to protect the new frontier against the Picts, and colonists to build fortresses and towns, colonising the new land in the name of Aquilonia. Travelling by any means available, and leading caravan trains of their belongings, goods and cattle, Aquilonians moved into this new region. Scouts and traders first ventured into the dark forests and dank swamps, to mark out territories and fiefs for their barons. Missionaries of Mitra arrived to minister to the colonists and convert the savages. Loggers followed, cutting down the ancient timbers, clearing vast tracts of forest for the fortresses and cities, creating roads and trails for the expected influx of settlers. Then came the prostitutes, brought in by entrepreneurial merchants to cash in on the lonely desires of the trappers and loggers, soon after the small trading and logging villages were established, the families came to the Westermarck. Migrating across hundreds of miles worth of marches, these pioneering Aquilonians travelled in great numbers to the unknown West, guided by trappers and scouts, to the new lands they would settle and work. Most of these frontiersmen were not wealthy, neither were they destitute serfs; buying the supplies and gear for such a long trek was not cheap. They were hardy and desperate enough, however, to try and eke out a new life in a largely untamed wilderness region to better their own economic or political situation.
Wary of the greed of the Bossonian lords, King Vilerus gave these royal patents to three barons of the western marches of Aquilonia and divided the land into three provinces: Oriskonie, Conawaga and Schohira. This trio of barons sold the land in portions known as ‘hides’, a vague measurement that varied between 60 and 120 acres, to commoners who agreed to work the land and pay taxes to the baron presiding over the province as a whole. The barons, in return promising military protection for these commoners as part of this feudal obligation. Many of the immigrants that flowed into the colonial lands came from the Tauran; already well versed in the art of forestry and rustic living, many wanted a try at truly taming a wilderness and owning their own land.
Later, another province would be added by the avaricious Aquilonians, Conajohara. Poorly defended by King Numedides, Vilerius’ successor, it was not long before Conajohara was overrun and reclaimed by the Picts. The great de-settlement of Conojohara resulted in the trail of tears, a mass exodus from these lands and from the ashes of that fallen province, Thandara was formed, although this province would not be controlled by Aquilonian barons or dominated by Aquilonian politics.
It has been ten years since the tragic fall of Fort Tuscelan and the reclamation of Conajohara by the Picts. After its fall, the Viscount Lucian became governor of the province of Conajohara, residing in his fort at Velitrium, the last remnant of a once promising province. Lucian’s predecessor, Valannus, was to take the fall for the events that befell Conajohara; being stripped of his Governorship to be replaced by a man whom the rumours say has more interest in profits and advancing his station than in the true welfare of the Westermarck. It is in these tragic times that our heroes come forth, sworn to fight and if need be die for the land they would call their own.
In the decade that has passed from those terrible times, life has been as ever hard on the frontier, and finding a suitable woman was forever on the men’s minds. It is with great excitement that our heroes have travelled to the Conawagan capital of Scandaga this year, to celebrate the annual festival of planting. The festival is sacred to the god Mitra, and takes place in the capital each year, when folk would gather from all over the province to find wives and husbands, to receive the blessing of a good crop in the coming year and of course last but not least, to take part in the festivities of the fair which accompanies the spring festival. It is a fine opportunity for the young men to test their skills against those of their peers, show off in front of the young women and earn a name for themselves. Merchants, entertainers and more from beyond the Bossonian marches would cross into the province also, eager on selling their wares and stripping the men of their hard earned pay. The festival comes to its three day conclusion with an all day feast and all night drink and dance. The fourth day, whilst not part of the festival itself, is of great import also, when the assembled Fortress Commanders from across the province gather to meet for the annual War Council, there to discuss the year past and year to come. There has been great excitement and expectation about the festival this year. Baron Brocas of Torh was to be in attendance personally to oversee the festivities. It was rumoured he was providing escort to a larger than usual string of merchants and bringing with him nearly two dozen women destined for bonded servitude on the frontier. With such a prestigious guest in attendance this year’s festival was surely one to be remembered.
Our heroes have just arrived in Scandaga on the eve of the festivals beginning. The trek from their Fort on the banks of the Thunder River has been a long and hard one, but thankfully not fraught with much peril. In fact no peril at all. Things have been eerily quiet this year, too quiet. There have been no stirrings across the river for the guts of a year, and people are starting to wonder what the devilish Picts are up to.
Our heroes pass through the boisterous Northend of the city, passing merchants homes, trading posts closed for the day, on by several bawdy houses and pubs, even passing an up market brothel on the corner of Smiths Row. Music and laughter greet the characters ears as they pass by the buzzing and overcrowded drinking houses. Scandaga is filled to bursting point with men and women from across the province in attendance for the festival. Crossing the small shrine to Mitra which marks the edge of the Northend District our heroes pass onto the main city thoroughfare. To the west lies the Lake District, dominated by aptly named Tall Tower, standing some 70 feet tall overlooking wealthy frame houses and Mitraic shrines. To the east lies the Eastend, home to the landed patricians and nobles of Scandaga, and is filled with stately framed buildings, public buildings, courts and the mansion like home of the Governor Flavius. To the south lies the destination of our heroes: Soldiersfort. Standing some 30feet tall and boasting seven wooden towers, this small fort is built of hewn logs and split boards. The sharpened log palisade is surrounded by a deep water filled ditch with water diverted from the nearby lake. As you approach you see two Gunderland pikemen in full finery flanking the gates to the fort.
