Arrows whistling after us, smoke in the air, the heat of an expanding bushfire in our necks. Our adventure group had run into trouble.

The game is BFRPG: Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game by Chris Gonnerman; Widely similar to B/X, with some deviations that make Old School more accessible for modern gamers; like a d20 to roll for Turn Undead, more spells, (sensible) options for lowering lethality etc. A “gateway drug” to lead a modern generation of gamers to the OSR.

But now to the events of the game. How did we get into this situation?

Short detour: What happened before

In earlier sessions set in this strip of land close to the castle Morgansfort, Rovan the Magic User had managed to charm two monsters, Zog the Orc and Nazgorian the buff Frogman. In the most recent adventure with them, Rovan, Darion the Fighter, and Apoqulis the Cleric had gone into the dungeon on the island – a party of five.
We ran into a bunch of goblins and orcs on two fronts, and in the fighting lost Zog and Nazgorian both, and almost Rovan as well.

We returned home with very good loot, but the price we paid was great: the loss of our charmed “friends”. We trained and paid off our money for XP [as this is the way to collect XP in this game: pay for it. You get either buff or rich, not both. At least not both at the same time.]

Back to the present: What happened now

Now: We three survivors sat together and thought about the future. Going back into the dungeon felt too risky with our current numbers. But how about hiring some help? Darion struck up a conversation with a group of local guards who sat there with a knight. They were not looking for adventure, but they knew about recent caravan attacks by goblins up north. Several of them, about one every week.

More details were had from the gruff, standoffish elvish trader; and from the “job board”, where the Bailiff had posted a call to arms for some vague reward.

Given the details – repeated attacks, guards wounded but not killed, no repercussions – Darion the Fighter suspected foul play: one or more traitors working with the goblins. He doubted the greens would be organised enough for such a string of attacks all by themselves.

Darion wanted to investigate this on the spot where it had happened.

A question of Alignment

His friends assumed he wanted to sign up with the Bailiff and investigate in an official capacity. Nothing could be further from the truth! Darion wanted to scout as a private enterprise, not yet formulating an actual goal. He had not a plan per se, just an idea: where chaos, there profit.

[Even in previous sessions, Darion had attempted various ways of dodging taxes and skirting strict duties, as well as sometimes playing fast and loose with facts. And he also promised to help a farmer, then abandoned the job and never reported back.]

Eyewitness Account

We went north to the other farmer, avoiding the one we already knew. There a young boy recounted what he had seen: a very organised ambush on the traders. He led us to the spot and was rewarded with a solid tip.

We took our time to scope out the whole place and found various well-hidden tools for ambush, plus tracks leading off into the wilderness. Also, an abandoned farm not far off.

As the hour grew late we went to the abandoned farm, and Darion was excited about the limitless potential of this place. Where Rovan saw ruin and missing doors, Darion saw a future stronghold.

Darion and Apoqulis shared watch duty and were rewarded by a night-time visit of a rare beast: A unicorn! Darion was delighted and counted this as a good omen for our future stronghold. Although he was quick to try and convince Apoqulis that this did not mean in any way that he was a virgin or anything…

Forest Rule #3: No open light in the woods!

The next morning the small party broke their fast and went off to follow the goblin tracks. However, they were tracked themselves, and on a forest clearing, attacked: by a pack of wolves!

Apoqulis and Darion both attempted to fight, but the predators were far too nimble for them, and they only barely held out, their backs to strong tree-trunks, and slowly understanding that they were outmatched.

Rovan “Molotov” Spellslinger

It was Rovan the smart magic user who saved the day by throwing a nice bottle of burning oil into the pack, right in the middle of the lot, lighting up the nearby scrubbery in the process.

One of the non-burning wolves turned on him and ripped his leg open, and for the second time within one short week Rovan’s life hung in the balance, as bright arterial blood sprayed the vegetation and pooled on the ground.

But no wolf could turn back time: Rovan’s timely throw had already won the day. Multiple yelping wolves perished in the flames, one more was distracted enough to run into one of Darion’s inept axe-swings, and the rest of the pack turned tail and ran, their morale broken.

Resuscitation 

Darion and Apoqulis hastened to apply first aid to the magic user and the cleric even healed the mortal wound. Darion picked up the only wolf body without fire damage and mused about the price this fine pelt would fetch, while the fire spread and engulfed a nearby tree… that was when the party began to wonder if, and more importantly, how they could stop this fire before it would consume half the forest.

And that’s when the goblins showed up: They shot at us from a distance, but thanks to the fates and all the benevolent gods their first volley missed!

We turned tail and ran, and luckily they did not follow us.

We returned home to Morgansfort with one dead wolf to show for our efforts, which we sold to this guy:

Darion was quick to mention that the goblins (certainly not any upstanding citizens like us!) had recklessly started a fire in the forest.
We made a quick buck and learned that Hardel knew a bunch of huntsmen, and his sister was married to one, and that she was quite handy with a bow.
Rovan told the perpetually angry Elf about our adventure and got yelled at for his troubles.
Apoqulis also helped spreading the tale of the pyromaniac goblins.
And Darion asked in a roundabout way about prices for plots of land up north. His transparent scheme was no match for the titanic intellect of the local taxmen, and they immediately guessed he was asking for the abandoned farmhouse. And they put a price tag on it that was comparatively cheap, yet still slightly beyond comfort.

Next steps:

We go after the goblins again;

And we try to bolster our numbers (and our lacking stealth- and woodsman-skills) with those cool huntsmen and Hardel’s sister.

Goblins beware!

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