Campaign Journal: The Deserts of Hyrcania – Session 1

Session 1: Lashed To The Slave Stick
Shahr Alsahwa 1, 2522 (The Month of Awakening)

Tizenket – Level 1 Huntress, Female Human
Ulrich – Level 1 Cataphract, Male Human
Karsas – Level 1 Barbarian, Male Human
Eliza – Level 1 Witch, Female Human

The relentless sun beats down upon your weary forms, its scorching rays painting the vast expanse of desert in hues of shimmering heat. You find yourselves bound, shackled, and at the mercy of your captors—ogres, towering behemoths whose cruel laughter echoes across the barren landscape.

You remember little of how you came to be here, save for the distant memories of a bustling city, of faces lost in a sea of strangers, and the chilling realization that you were no longer free. Sold into slavery at a wretched auction, you now find yourselves condemned to a fate worse than death: forced labor beneath the sweltering sun for the rest of your puny lives.

The journey has been long and arduous, a grueling march across endless dunes that stretch as far as the eye can see. You are confined to a large cart, while two colossal creatures, armored and insectoid in nature, pull you ever deeper into the heart of the desert.

Your captors, the ogres, sneer as they prod you forward with cruel whips, their voices laced with venom as they revel in your suffering. Their intentions are clear—to build a monument to their ogre deity, a ziggurat of stone and bone that rises defiantly from the sands, a testament to their dominion over all who dare to defy them.

The players find themselves inside of a slave barge being pulled by two massive armored insects. They aren’t sure exactly where their fate lies, but they’ve heard rumor of a massive Ziggurat that the ogres are building somewhere within the Hyrcanian desert.

Tizenket, a Hyrcanian native, is chained to the one side of the small chamber. The same chains that bind her wrists are also connected to Karsas’s wrist. On the other side of the chamber, Ulrich and Eliza are chained together.

The only sunlight that the players get comes from a barred window on the tall ceiling. The desert sun can be seen high in the sky.

While the players are getting to know each other, a towering form appears at the door of the cell. One of the ogre captors stands looking in, a cruel sneer is etched upon his brutish face. Noticing Tizenken is closest to the door, and how thirsty she looks, the ogre thrusts forward a single goatskin flask to her.

“Drink,” the ogre grunts, its voice dripping with malice. “But only enough to wet your lips. We wouldn’t want you dying of thirst before you’ve had the chance to earn your keep, now would we?”

With a trembling hand, Tizenken reaches out to accept this meager offering. As she holds the flask to her lips, her heart sinks as she realizes that the flask is almost empty, and filled with a disgusting grog. The grog trickles forth in a pitiful stream, barely enough to wet Tizenket’s cracked lips. The flask is quickly snatched away. The ogre lets out a bellowing laugh, as he walks away from the cell door.

The players have had enough of these cruel ogres. With all his might, Karsas pulls on the bars and breaks a section of the chain. Eliza and Ulrich combine their strength and break the bar that holds their chains. Just as they are catching their breath and figuring out a plan for their next steps, a loud chaotic commotion can be heard outside…

As the chaos erupts outside the confines of the slave cart, the players strain their ears to catch every morsel of the outside noises. The urgent shouts of ogre lookout sentries as they sound the alarm echo in the slave cart.

A commanding voice cuts through the clamor, resonating with authority and righteous indignation. “Those humans you have captured are not slaves,” it proclaims, each word ringing clear despite the distance. “You must release these people, or all your caravans will perish in the desert.”

But the ogres, their voices rumbling like thunder, respond with a ferocious mix of scorn and defiance aimed at the raiders. “You knights dare to challenge us?” one roars, his eyes blazing with primal fury. “These humans are offerings to Vaprak the Kingeater, and we’ll spill blood before we let them go!”

A deafening crack rends the air, followed by a brilliant flash of light. The ground trembles beneath the players’ feet as a surge of electricity courses through the air, accompanied by the sound of an explosion. The two giant insects, their chains severed by the force of a lightning spell, lurch forward, their chitinous forms bounding across the desert sands as they flee into the vast expanse of the wilderness.

As the lead desert raider and his companions descend upon the ogres with righteous fury, the clash of steel against steel fills the air, punctuated by the thunderous roars of combat. With each swing of his mighty blade, the leader guides his warriors into battle, their resolve unwavering as they face the ogre horde before them.

The players, with their combined strength, break down the door to their cell. As they begin to find an exit to the slave barge, one of the ogres, bloodied and battered, approaches them. With a desperate gleam in his eyes, he offers the captives a chance at freedom, his voice thick with urgency and desperation.

“You want out of this mess?” he grunts, his breath heavy. “Help us kill these raiders and Vaprak’s favor will be yours. I will let you free, and more importantly, Vaprak will smile upon your deeds.”

Karsas takes the blade from his hand and slits his throat. The ogre’s body slumps against the side of the slave barge, and falls to the ground.

As the players emerge from the shadowy confines of the slave cart into the blinding embrace of the desert sun, they are greeted by a scene of utter carnage. The sands are stained crimson with the blood of fallen ogres, their lifeless forms strewn haphazardly amidst the shifting dunes.

The desert raiders, the true heroes in this situation, pay little heed to the players, their focus fixed on the destruction of the slave cart. “Take what you can grab from the cargo,” one of the raiders grunts. “We’re burning this heap of scrap to the ground.”

The players quickly grab what they can carry, find a few useful weapons and supplies, and back away from the slave barge.

Soon, flames spread across the wooden frame of the cart. The leader of the raiders lets out a loud whistle that echoes across the landscape. The raiders enter formation and begin riding into the desert.

The leader of the raiders rides back to the players. “One of our men fell during the battle. His horse is now without an owner. Take his horse and live another day,” he says. “I am known as Ashred, liberator of those captive and breaker of chains. I hope the next time we meet will be a happier occasion. Good luck.”

Ashred, Breaker of Chains, rides off into the desert towards his men.

The players, without any sort of plan, but knowing they have to find shelter, head north towards a river that they can see in the distance.