Vaeranya Nightraven
Clockwork Amulet,
Pole of Collapsing,
Brooch of Shielding,
Slippers of Spiderclimb,
Veteran´s Cane,
Ring of Jumping,
Wand of Magic Missiles,
Mithral Chain Mail,
Mystery Key,
Masquerade Tattoo,
The Soothsinger (Doss Lute - Instrument of the Bards),
“Zoe Grimalda” (Talking Doll),
Feywild Shard,
Goggles of Night,
Cloak of Many Fashions,
Wand of Secrets,
Battleaxe of Warning,
Rod of the Pact Keeper, +1,
Instrument of Illusions (Viol),
Staff of Birdcalls,
Cloak of Murmuring Feathers (Cloak of Billowing),
Immovable Rod,
Boots of Elvenkind,
+1 Shield,
Dread Helm,
Gauntlets of Ogre Power,
Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd)
Log Entries
| Date Played | Adventure Title | Session | Levels | GP | Downtime | Magic Items | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 2025-11-05 20:30 | DDHC0-DoIP-8 Icespire Hold | 1 | 25 | 10 | Show | |||
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 25gp |
||||||||
| 2025-11-05 22:07 | FR-DC-DoC Death of Cryovain | 1 | 1 | 1000 | 10 | Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd) | Show | |
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 1000gp Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd) This magic weapon deals an extra 2d6 damage to any creature it hits. This extra damage is of the same type as the weapon's normal damage. Appearance: When the Reaper strikes, it leaves behind a faint, black and shadowy fog that quickly disapates. A single raven feather is bound to the weapon’s base with a silver thread that never tarnishes. At rest, it stands impossibly still, as though the air itself holds its breath. Minor Property: Songcraft of Memory Kerènarun hums with a voice of its own — a faint, melodic resonance that shifts with every memory it claims. It does not sing in words, but in echoes — fragments of forgotten lullabies, shattered vows, whispered names lost to time. Each time Kerènarunl slays a creature whose memory the wielder touches, the weapon's hum changes. Sometimes it becomes the tune of a child’s forgotten song, a lover’s final sigh, or the solemn rhythm of a soldier’s last march. The melody is barely audible to others, but the wielder hears it clearly, as if the blade were remembering in song what the soul can no longer hold. The sound is not mournful, but hauntingly beautiful — a testament to the lives touched and taken, woven into a symphony of shadows. Touch: As you lay your hand upon the haft, the wood feels cold — not the chill of metal, but the quiet cold of a place where sound has never lived. The silver veins beneath your palm pulse once, as though the weapon itself draws breath. The world dims. Shadows gather and twist, folding in upon themselves until all that remains is a vast expanse of pale snow beneath a black sky. Ravens wheel overhead — silent, countless — and among them, a single feather drifts down to you, glimmering with violet light. When it touches the blade, you see them — faces you do not know, memories that are not yours — flashing one after another in a storm of light and shadow. Laughter, tears, prayers, screams… then silence. The scythe hums, low and resonant, and a voice like winter whispers through your mind: “All that is forgotten becomes mine. All that you take, I shall keep.” The vision fades. You stand once more in the waking world, hand still upon the weapon. The Reaper of Memories is now bound to you, and somewhere deep within its dark glassy blade, you sense a faint echo — a memory of your own that you can no longer recall.
|
||||||||
| Date Played | Adventure Title | Tier | Session | ACP ▼ | TCP | Downtime | Renown | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 2025-11-05 20:30 | DDHC0-DoIP-8 Icespire Hold | 1 | 10 | Show | ||||
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 25gp |
||||||||
| 2025-11-05 22:07 | FR-DC-DoC Death of Cryovain | 1 | 10 | Show | ||||
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 1000gp Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd) This magic weapon deals an extra 2d6 damage to any creature it hits. This extra damage is of the same type as the weapon's normal damage. Appearance: When the Reaper strikes, it leaves behind a faint, black and shadowy fog that quickly disapates. A single raven feather is bound to the weapon’s base with a silver thread that never tarnishes. At rest, it stands impossibly still, as though the air itself holds its breath. Minor Property: Songcraft of Memory Kerènarun hums with a voice of its own — a faint, melodic resonance that shifts with every memory it claims. It does not sing in words, but in echoes — fragments of forgotten lullabies, shattered vows, whispered names lost to time. Each time Kerènarunl slays a creature whose memory the wielder touches, the weapon's hum changes. Sometimes it becomes the tune of a child’s forgotten song, a lover’s final sigh, or the solemn rhythm of a soldier’s last march. The melody is barely audible to others, but the wielder hears it clearly, as if the blade were remembering in song what the soul can no longer hold. The sound is not mournful, but hauntingly beautiful — a testament to the lives touched and taken, woven into a symphony of shadows. Touch: As you lay your hand upon the haft, the wood feels cold — not the chill of metal, but the quiet cold of a place where sound has never lived. The silver veins beneath your palm pulse once, as though the weapon itself draws breath. The world dims. Shadows gather and twist, folding in upon themselves until all that remains is a vast expanse of pale snow beneath a black sky. Ravens wheel overhead — silent, countless — and among them, a single feather drifts down to you, glimmering with violet light. When it touches the blade, you see them — faces you do not know, memories that are not yours — flashing one after another in a storm of light and shadow. Laughter, tears, prayers, screams… then silence. The scythe hums, low and resonant, and a voice like winter whispers through your mind: “All that is forgotten becomes mine. All that you take, I shall keep.” The vision fades. You stand once more in the waking world, hand still upon the weapon. The Reaper of Memories is now bound to you, and somewhere deep within its dark glassy blade, you sense a faint echo — a memory of your own that you can no longer recall.
|
||||||||
| Date Played | Adventure Title | Session | XP | GP | Downtime | Renown | Magic Items | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 2025-11-05 20:30 | DDHC0-DoIP-8 Icespire Hold | 1 | 25 | 10 | Show | |||
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 25gp |
||||||||
| 2025-11-05 22:07 | FR-DC-DoC Death of Cryovain | 1 | 1000 | 10 | Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd) | Show | ||
|
Teilnehmer: Info: Loot: 1000gp Kerènarun, the Reaper of Memories (Vicious Halberd) This magic weapon deals an extra 2d6 damage to any creature it hits. This extra damage is of the same type as the weapon's normal damage. Appearance: When the Reaper strikes, it leaves behind a faint, black and shadowy fog that quickly disapates. A single raven feather is bound to the weapon’s base with a silver thread that never tarnishes. At rest, it stands impossibly still, as though the air itself holds its breath. Minor Property: Songcraft of Memory Kerènarun hums with a voice of its own — a faint, melodic resonance that shifts with every memory it claims. It does not sing in words, but in echoes — fragments of forgotten lullabies, shattered vows, whispered names lost to time. Each time Kerènarunl slays a creature whose memory the wielder touches, the weapon's hum changes. Sometimes it becomes the tune of a child’s forgotten song, a lover’s final sigh, or the solemn rhythm of a soldier’s last march. The melody is barely audible to others, but the wielder hears it clearly, as if the blade were remembering in song what the soul can no longer hold. The sound is not mournful, but hauntingly beautiful — a testament to the lives touched and taken, woven into a symphony of shadows. Touch: As you lay your hand upon the haft, the wood feels cold — not the chill of metal, but the quiet cold of a place where sound has never lived. The silver veins beneath your palm pulse once, as though the weapon itself draws breath. The world dims. Shadows gather and twist, folding in upon themselves until all that remains is a vast expanse of pale snow beneath a black sky. Ravens wheel overhead — silent, countless — and among them, a single feather drifts down to you, glimmering with violet light. When it touches the blade, you see them — faces you do not know, memories that are not yours — flashing one after another in a storm of light and shadow. Laughter, tears, prayers, screams… then silence. The scythe hums, low and resonant, and a voice like winter whispers through your mind: “All that is forgotten becomes mine. All that you take, I shall keep.” The vision fades. You stand once more in the waking world, hand still upon the weapon. The Reaper of Memories is now bound to you, and somewhere deep within its dark glassy blade, you sense a faint echo — a memory of your own that you can no longer recall.
|
||||||||