Measuring six feet in length, the ruby wasp is a deadly masterpiece. Its carapace is constructed from alchemically- treated copper, granting it a deeper red hue as well as enhanced durability. Every plate of the artificial insect slides seamlessly and soundlessly as it moves. The articulation of its legs is breathtaking to behold. The ruby wasp’s undercarriage is framed with ruby-tinged glass where a galvanic engine crackles with the longest bolts of artificial lighting cascading down to its stinger. Hints of biomass, muscles and sinew, can be glimpsed if one peers into the bug for long enough. The construct's wings are painstakinly crafted from enchanted, red crystal. It only sports a single ‘eye’ however, an asymmetrically-faceted ruby set between two twitching antenna. Step 3 - Fodder. “The wizards of the Planar Guild, I must admit, are not complete dullards. They know their limitations well. The foremost of which is a lack of physical prowess. Some mages employ summed crea

Session Thirty Three: The Wrathyrst Brothers An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary The heroes had dealt with all the zombied dwarves in Longnail village and one of its ghosts. From the wailing in the nearby buildings, however, they knew there had to be more. Bravely, the party cleared out the buildings one by one. They had magic items to find as well to power the fey warmachine, an arbor juggernaut, that waited for them back on a nearby mountain pass (Session 30.) It didn’t take long for them to encounter other dwarven ghosts as well as the cause. Several of the stout folk had been transformed into grotesque corpse trees with roots replacing their legs and direfly-infested branches sprouting from their ruptured mouths and torsos. Shinashe, the rabbit folk paladin, attempted diplomacy with the next ghost they met. After all, all they wanted to do was to end their torme

As large as a horse, the terrorantula is a twisted abomination of pallid chitin and black iron. It’s chassis resembles the phase spider it once was in general shape with bubbling lines of galvanic-charged goo framing the plates of its armor. The spider’s eyes have been replaced with one large oculus lens and its fangs with a pneumatic pair that inject some of its life-sustaining fluids directly into a victim. Its thorax is covered with thousands of rune-etched needles, each enchanted to disrupt a spellcaster’s mind. Step 2 - Infiltration. “If I regret any of my recent actions, my darling, it is butchering the poor phase spiders I ensnared. There is some mote of intelligence behind their eight eyes, more so than the common child I would say. They did not understand the pain I inflicted upon them to make them better, to mold them to my glorious purpose. Yet, reborn as one of my terrorantulas, oh, they revel in their newfound power! Their ability to move between the ethereal and mater

A single sawfly is a miracle of artifice being no larger than a horsefly. Its crystal wings are beautiful to behold, like miniature stained-glass windows. Its carapace is painstakingly etched with draconic runes to draw power from a lodestone heart. As one notices that its mouth has been replaced with a diamond-toothed rotary saw, however, the faux-insects menace shines through. As a buzzing swarm, the sawflies cut through bone, flesh, and metal alike, smearing their exquisite forms with gore. Step 1 - Siege Weapons. “The wizards of the planar guild think they are safe in their towers of thick stone and powerful wards. My tiniest contraptions prove this sense of security false. Whether assaulting a tower wall directly or dispensed from a Terrorantula infiltrator, my sawflies will make short work of any bulwark, magical or otherwise, that they come across. The beautiful thing is, once the pitiful protections are destroyed, my lovies tear through mage-flesh just as well. Oh, you shou

Session Thirty Two: Dead Dwarves and Dry Leaves An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary After clearing the burnt-out ruins of the Longnail family, our heroes fetched the last remaining member of the dwarven line, Khandra, and her lover Uta and brought them back to the stonework edifice. Khanra, of course, was overcome with emotion despite her upbringing. Still, the evil that had consumed her family had been scoured away. This at least gave her a chance to rebuild. That is, after the surrounding village was cleared of the shuffling dead. The heroes caught a quick nap before heading down into the well-organized domain. After all, it had been built by and housed dwarves. They were an orderly lot when it came to construction. As before, Shinashe the rabbit folk paladin scouted the area from the back of her griffon mount Hibou. Two dozen undead dwarves wandered the streets, t

Lithe and tall, the humanoid is without any distinct facial features other than the vague impression of a nose and indents where eyes should be; though there is a golden glow implies ocular organs of some sort under its epidermis. At first glance, one might think this is due to a pale cloth drawn tight over its visage, but whenever the creature moves its plain that is some sort of artificial skin. The rest of its body is a smooth crimson shell of molded musculature. Raised, thicker and darker patches of skin form intricate patterns across its shoulders, down its spine and each arm. The synth pulverizer wears simple clothing, a crossed halter with spaulders attached; bracers and boots of a barbaric design. However, these accessories are crafted from materials not of this sphere. Its bracer is covered with indented dials and sliders that produce various magical effects with little resemblance to arcane ritual. It's main weapon is a hulking piston of a right arm. This biomechanical

Session Thirty One: The Clutch of Autumn An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary After a brief rest in the ruined dryad grove of Old Elery, the troupe of heroes continued on. As before, scouting the route ahead fell on the shoulders of Shinasha, the rabbit folk paladin. Aboard her mount, the griffon Hibou, Shinasha along with the rabbit folk artificer Freya, soared over the fields between the champions and their destination. The pair found the mostly harvested farmland and the oxen ranch’s livestock infested with a dire-fly blight. Transformed into rage-filled Hexen, the oxen’s painful, wet bellows filled the air as the herd roamed aimlessly about looking for something to kill. Unless the party went far out of its way, they’d have to go through the profaned animals. Shinasha’s route took them further south, along the roadside harvest festival that had been so bri

Session Thirty: What's Past is Prologue An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary While the primary party of heroes pondered on what thread of the waning princes’ plan to follow up on next, back at the Convent of Quiet Grace one of its original members received an urgent summons from Lady Ostara, the retired paladin in charge of the valley’s security. Gwaedd, the otterfolk bard, set to gathering a fresh group of heroes to answer the call. This included Cedwyn, another mustel and a shadow sorcerer with a murky background, and Nalyth, an eladrian echo knight wielding an accursed maul; The Feasing Maw. Both were members of the Second Horizon Exploration Company to which Gwaedd and the other heroes belonged. The trio were joined by two rabbit folk from the distant Field of Felled Giants. They were the paladin Shinâshè and artificer Freya. The leporidae women had heard tales

Session Twenty Nine: Bloodmane An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary Under assault from an Eyestalk's sinister rays, the heroes scrambled for cover. Though, the changeling dervish, Riley, didn’t get the chance. They were frozen in place by a lace of magic while the other champions exchanged fire with the plant from behind cover. Thanks to Wild the tabaxi ranger’s well-placed shots and Ea the bearkfolk wizard’s bearfolk, the eyestalk was eventually turned to mulch, and Riley rescued. The party took a moment to catch their breath. All the while, the warily watched the waterfall the Waning Blade had disappeared behind last sessions. After twenty minutes, the coast remained clear. The heroes made their way down the cliffs to a small island at the base of the waterfall. As they suspected, there was a cavern behind the water. Its entrance was sealed off by a pair of st

Lithe and tall, the humanoid is without any distinct facial features other than the vague impression of a nose and indents where eyes should be; though there is a golden glow implies ocular organs of some sort under its epidermis. At first glance, one might think this is due to a pale cloth drawn tight over its visage, but whenever the creature moves its plain that is some sort of artificial skin. The rest of its body is a smooth crimson shell of molded musculature. Raised, thicker and darker patches of skin form intricate patterns across its shoulders, down its spine and each arm. The synth conductor wears simple clothing, a crossed halter with spaulders attached; bracers and boots of a barbaric design. However, these accessories are crafted from materials not of this sphere. Its bracers are covered with indented dials and sliders that produce various magical effects with little resemblance to arcane ritual. It's main weapon is a thin, serrated blade that vibrates with no a

Lithe and tall, the humanoid is without any distinct facial features other than the vague impression of a nose and indents where eyes should be; though there is a golden glow implies ocular organs of some sort under its epidermis. At first glance, one might think this is due to a pale cloth drawn tight over its visage, but whenever the creature moves its plain that is some sort of artificial skin. The rest of its body is a smooth crimson shell of molded musculature. Raised, thicker and darker patches of skin form intricate patterns across its shoulders, down its spine and each arm. The synth extractor wears simple clothing, a crossed halter with spaulders attached; bracers and boots of a barbaric design. However, these accessories are crafted from materials not of this sphere. Its bracers are covered with indented dials and sliders that produce various magical effects with little resemblance to arcane ritual. It's main weapons are a thin, serrated blade that vibrates with no

Session Twenty Eight: River of Blood and Honey An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary The second time the party of heroes spent the night at the Smuggler’s Boot Inn and Tavern it passed without incident. They’d re-sealed the demi lich Ipqu the Bleeder and rid the nearby woods of his bloodthirsty creations. Besides getting paid, they were treated to baths, drink, and rooms on-the-house from a relieved populace. However, they weren’t quite finished protecting the village of Tichner Fork. While the wendigo were taken care of, blood honey chunks and swarms of direflies were still floating into town from upriver. The heroes knew that it wouldn’t be long before the waning court of fey’s corruption flowed entirely over Tichner Fork and turned into a landscape of horror as it had so many other frontier settlements. After refreshing their healing potions and other supplies, the pa