Tales of The Flying Bunyip (D&D 3.5)

Session 2-0: Where Are We?

With map in hand, where to go?

The fight against the Parkers has ended and the party has gathered at the mansion. Bodies litter the wedding grounds and the mansion with the scent of flowers and blood. Spider and Otar stood in front of the building where the others had finished their business. The old horse looks about the bloody wedding grounds un-phased by the chaos that had just occurred. He’s a horse. The fuck does he care?

Picking a map off Ben’s body, it only appears to be focused on this region of the land. None of you are familiar with the lands beyond the White Sea, only that it was South of where you are familiar with. Not many cross it simply due to the inconvenience. To return home, you would need to reach Sansport, take a ship to Glasscliff, and continue from there. It is nearing noon, if you gather some food and leave now, you can reach Kaldest Keep by nightfall. Alternatively you may head towards the Parker’s homestead to the east.


Abaddon rolled his shoulders as he stared at the map for a moment before turning it over to Otar. The black haired man nodded to the wizard for a moment. “Well we have a couple of places we can head out to. Don’t know where to start.”

Otar bit his lower lip as his eyes scanned towards the others, he knew what their answers would be, but he wasn’t going to like it.

Celean continued to load up gear onto the wagon hitched to Spider before speaking up “We should continue north.” Her tone was set in its usual matter of fact tone.

Otar finally let out a sigh as he continued to scan the map for more details. Heading north would mean crossing the White Sea, and the only connection between the south to the northern lands would be that of Glasscliff. If there was any place he would like to avoid, it would be Glasscliff. For a moment however, he eyed the map and noticed the “Ruins of Terval.”

“What’s going on with Terval? We could head over ther-”

Bartleby’s lips sealed to a single line as he shook his head. “No… we want to avoid that area. It’s gods know what country. No matter where you’re from, there’s words in the air that talk about Terval. Big kingdom, gone in the blink of an eye. The undead attacked it, and now, all that’s left? The Black Marshes. You want to avoid it.”

Otar let out a sigh from his lips as Edgar hopped into the wagon with a bottle of whiskey. The halfling smiled a bright disturbing smile of jagged teeth as he soon followed up with a swig from the bottle. “It’ll be alright. Lets go north, what could go wrong?”

The party took north, towards Kaldest Keep in hopes to make their way to Sansport then Glasscliff. Each person took turns to keep a watchful eye, but Edgar drank his bottle heavily with a mischievous grin on his lips. It didn’t take long however, until he passed out and snored loudly at the back of the wagon.

The sun lowered and the birds took to the skies for their homes. Before everyone’s eyes, they saw rolling hills, and from there, a sprawling town. A keep at the very top.

And so, the party arrived at Kaldest Keep.



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