Show Log Entry

Adventure Title
CCC-SFBAY-02-03 The Risen Minotaur Lord
Session
1
Date Played
2026-01-11 18:04:00 UTC
Levels Gained
GP +/-
233.33
Downtime +/-
10.0
Location Played
Roll20
DM Name
Bramymond
DM DCI Number
7546445646
Notes
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Teilnehmer: (10) JinxedBear - Maximus "Max" Musterus, The Most Normal Knight Alive - Average Human - Just a Banneret Fighter 10 - Order of the Gauntlet/Purple Dargon Knights (10) C0ldW0lf - Corellius - Custom Lineage (Aasimar/Tiefling) - Vengeance Paladin 6/Fiend Warlock 4 - Harpers (10) Karrakasz - Allen Rounder - Human - Fighter 1, Bard 1, Cleric 1, Druid 1, Paladin 1, Ranger 1, Rogue 1, Sorcerer 1, Warlock 1, Wizard 1 - none (10) Echo - (10) Arikatzi020 - Lyana Ghostlight - Aasimar - Grave Clerik lvl 10 - None (Doomguide) (10) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Info: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Loot: 233,33gp 1x Potion of Invulnerability 1x Potion of greater Healing ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Belt of the Wrathbound Bull (Belt of Hill Giant Strength (Str 21) Wondrous Item, Rare (Requires Attunement) A brutal relic from the age when Garut still drew breath—before he was wrapped in funerary linen and rose again as a Mummy Lord beneath his ruined temple. Even now, the belt doesn’t feel “worn” so much as claimed. Appearance A broad war-girdle of blackened oxhide and bronze plates, big enough to look slightly too heavy for any sane person. The buckle is a snarling bull’s head with curled horns, its eyes set with dull carnelian that catch torchlight like embers. Along the inner lining, the leather is stitched with a tight band of aged linen—funerary wrappings taken from Garut’s own rites. The belt smells faintly of old incense, iron, and sun-baked dust. The feel of it When you tighten it, the leather cinches with a sound like a distant drumbeat, and for a moment you feel a phantom weight settle across your shoulders—like standing under the gaze of a wrathful god. Your muscles don’t merely strengthen; they harden, as if your body remembers a lifetime of siege and slaughter. Anyone close enough can hear it sometimes: a low, half-swallowed bovine growl that could be a creak of leather… or a warning. Magic tells Warmth: The buckle grows warm when blood is spilled nearby, even a drop. Echoes: In silence, you catch the faintest sound of hooves on stone when you take your first step after donning it. Shadow: Your shadow broadens subtly at the shoulders and neck—hinting at horns that aren’t there. Whispered legend (in-world lore) Garut was a war cleric who preached that mercy was a lie told by the weak. He marched at the head of raiders and zealots, taking offerings in steel and screaming prayer. When his body failed, his faithful embalmed him in the deepest chambers of his temple so his wrath could outlast death. The belt was his “girdle of vows.” Some say each plate bears a promise: vengeance, dominion, sacrifice, hunger. Optional attunement quirk (pure flavor, no mechanics) While attuned, you can’t quite stop squaring your stance like a fighter ready to charge. When someone challenges your strength or authority, you feel a reflexive urge to meet it head-on. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Story Award: Adel von Fangjaws Feste (Voraussetzung: Du musst bereits eine Bürger von Fangjaws Feste sein.) Du hast Fangjaws Hold weiterhin treu gedient und wurdest dafür mit dem Adelsstand belohnt. Von nun an darfst du im Viertel Kleines Mondmeer (Little Moonsea District) ein Haus für 2000 GM und 20 Downtime erwerben. Deine Lebenshaltungskosten erhöhen sich außerdem um 1 GM. Darüber hinaus bist du berechtigt, Recht über die Bürger*innen von Fangjaws Hold zu sprechen. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Story Award: Honorary Wychlaran https://files.d20.io/images/471075572/-_Vzb5UQAYlcbR7if-vNLQ/max.png?1768150967 (Voraussetzung: Du musst entweder zweimal die Auszeichnung Achtung der Rashemen oder Achtung der Rashemen und Freund von Rashemen in anderen Abenteuern erhalten haben; nur für weibliche Zauberwirkende mit guter oder neutraler Gesinnung.) Du wurdest in die Reihen der geheimnisvollen rashemischen Hexen aufgenommen, die als Hathrans bekannt sind. Von nun an darfst du den heiligen Ashenwood betreten, und andere Rashemi werden dich mit Respekt betrachten und zu dir als Führerin aufschauen. Zudem hast du einen Geistertalisman als Geschenk erhalten, und eine Maske der Wychlaran wurde für dich angefertigt – in der Gestalt deines Geistes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Story Award: Achtung der Rashemen (Wenn du die Auszeichnung Feindschaft Rashemens (Enmity of Rashemen) besitzt, werden beide Auszeichnungen aus deinem Logbuch entfernt. Deine Taten haben dir Vergebung eingebracht, aber sie haben dir nicht sowohl Vergebung als auch Achtung eingebracht.) Du hast dem Volk von Rashemen einen großen Dienst erwiesen. Die Menschen Rashemens könnten dir wohlgesinnt sein. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Magic Items

Name Rarity Location Table Result Counts?
Belt of the Wrathbound Bull (Belt of Hill Giant Strength (Str 21) Rare CCC-SFBAY-02-03 The Risen Minotaur Lord true
Belt of the Wrathbound Bull (Belt of Hill Giant Strength (Str 21) Wondrous Item, Rare (Requires Attunement) A brutal relic from the age when Garut still drew breath—before he was wrapped in funerary linen and rose again as a Mummy Lord beneath his ruined temple. Even now, the belt doesn’t feel “worn” so much as claimed. Appearance A broad war-girdle of blackened oxhide and bronze plates, big enough to look slightly too heavy for any sane person. The buckle is a snarling bull’s head with curled horns, its eyes set with dull carnelian that catch torchlight like embers. Along the inner lining, the leather is stitched with a tight band of aged linen—funerary wrappings taken from Garut’s own rites. The belt smells faintly of old incense, iron, and sun-baked dust. The feel of it When you tighten it, the leather cinches with a sound like a distant drumbeat, and for a moment you feel a phantom weight settle across your shoulders—like standing under the gaze of a wrathful god. Your muscles don’t merely strengthen; they harden, as if your body remembers a lifetime of siege and slaughter. Anyone close enough can hear it sometimes: a low, half-swallowed bovine growl that could be a creak of leather… or a warning. Magic tells Warmth: The buckle grows warm when blood is spilled nearby, even a drop. Echoes: In silence, you catch the faintest sound of hooves on stone when you take your first step after donning it. Shadow: Your shadow broadens subtly at the shoulders and neck—hinting at horns that aren’t there. Whispered legend (in-world lore) Garut was a war cleric who preached that mercy was a lie told by the weak. He marched at the head of raiders and zealots, taking offerings in steel and screaming prayer. When his body failed, his faithful embalmed him in the deepest chambers of his temple so his wrath could outlast death. The belt was his “girdle of vows.” Some say each plate bears a promise: vengeance, dominion, sacrifice, hunger. Optional attunement quirk (pure flavor, no mechanics) While attuned, you can’t quite stop squaring your stance like a fighter ready to charge. When someone challenges your strength or authority, you feel a reflexive urge to meet it head-on.