Fighting Ogres Has Never Been so Unpleasant

Where have I been, you may well be asking? Work's gotten pretty crazy. So in lieu of some half-baked essay, here are adventure logs written by two ACTUAL PLAYERS from the Hounds of Aros game:

(OLOZ, the now-satyr former-half-orc)


Whatever the fuck day we arrived:

We have come to Tyrma, the great stone in the crown of the elf-kingdom of Silversong. I can feel the call of the woods that shoot through the city like roots through soil, of the elf-maids in their meandering marble houses - I burn to be acquainted more closely! If Thurayn was a nightmare, then Tyrma is a dream. I cannot shelter myself in dreams. Nightmares still exist all around, outside this magical place. Thurayn still waits. I cannot forget that. I still have more to do before I can take to the woods and to the women. I must never forget. Essad and all her slaves must be set free.

Avaunus, 2nd Longing

Though I have been on a few now, I am forming no great love of boats - and this one less than most. We have only the night before spoken with the Seasinger here in Tyrma, and found him in need of our aid - an island temple nearby has been taken by some ogaritic force, with, perhaps, gigantine aid, and so I have paid for the help of this easterner cog, bedecked as it is in scorpions and catapaults, to take us there, and help with their machinery where they may. The goblin manservant Thembo has a lurid quizzicality about him that puts me in mind of Takal, and his snaggletoothed sneer is almost more than I can stomach. Still, it bears us toward the isle where we will take back Meri's temple, and with arms most useful for the task - if its captain can be trusted.