You head back to the village of Mire's Edge. A few hours later you have found your way out of the swamp and back to town. With some daylight left you head to Orldebrandt House, home of the retired lord, Rutherley Orldebrandt.
He greets you and ushers you into his home. You report everything that transpired.
"I will not say that I am terribly sad that there no longer is a dragon living this close to us. Small wyrmlings grow into large dragons at some point. We will see if the kobold's that remain will honor their end of the bargain."
He then opens a chest and hands each of you a bag of 100gp.
"As for the lizardfolk, we will wait and see what happens. If the kobolds behave hopefully things will settle down."
And things do seem to settle down. There are no more troubles with the kobolds and they are no longer seen. The lizardfolk stop attacking and threatening the caravans and life settles back to normal.
Keyleth returns the packets of alchemical ingredients recovered from Whipperpool's lost shipment. True to her word Whipperpool allows you to keep anything else you found in the chest.
"Bless your heart lady Keyleth, your help is greatly appreciated! These were important medicinal supplies."
Kirinar is offered a position with the village guard. In fact each of you are. Whether you take them or not you find rooms to rent or places to stay.
Several weeks later life has settled into a comfortable rhythm, although some of you may find the need for more adventure growing within you. You also find yourselves to be treated a bit like celebrity by the common folks of the town.
The quiet whispers of heroes or dragonsbane does not escape your hearing.
But for the past several days, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: a wasting disease afflicting everyone who’s ever been raised from the dead. Victims grow thinner and weaker each day, slowly but steadily sliding toward the death they once denied. When they finally succumb, they can’t be raised — and neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they’ve ever received that miracle in the past. Temples and scholars of divine magic are at a loss to explain a curse that has affected the entire region, and possibly the entire world.
One day a stranger is at the Board Walk Inn, a well-kept tavern build on stilts out over the water. He is asking for the heroes of Mire's Edge, the ones who slew the dragon of the swamp and drove the kobold's away bringing peace back to the area. You meet with the man to see what he wants.
"My master has sent me to find the heroes that slew the dragon that lived in the swamp. She is in need of people with your skills. Your reputation precedes you and the local towns tell of your exploits. Will you accompany me to Easting? That is where she lives. It is a city a weeks travel south of here."
You accompany the man to Easting and are brought to an estate on the edge of town.
You have been invited to the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you up a grand staircase to the third floor, then ushers you into a wood-paneled room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a heavy table bearing goblets and bottles of wine. The darkly paneled walls are hung with maps and sea charts. Racks, shelves, and cabinets hold hundreds more rolled-up maps and charts.
A person is seated in an overstuffed chair near the fire. You can’t discern a gender, because only the person’s head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask conceal the wearer’s face. Even the person’s dry, raspy voice provides no clue. “Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends — I hope I may call you that.”
As the party enters Syndra’s chambers, they also see sitting there with a cup of tea held delicately in his hand and obviously engaged in some sort of deep conversation with Synndra is an extremely old Tortle. His shell and skin are covered in scars which indicates that he has travelled widely across Toril. Of particularly note is a deep gash in his shell caused by what appears to have been some sort of tooth or claw. Perched on his nose are a set of bifocal glasses and as Syndra speaks to the party, he looks over at them with interest.
Once you are settled she tells why she has summoned you to her home.
“I was an adventurer years ago. I died once and was raised from the dead. I have since closed the door on that stage of my life. The death curse you’ve heard about has struck me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last before I perish. Clerics have no help to offer. They’re stymied by what is happening. My contacts in the Harpers have learned that the cause of the death curse is a necromantic artifact called the Soulmonger. According to their sources, the Soulmonger is somewhere in Chult. Chult is a peninsula ringed with mountains and choked with rainforests. Enormous reptiles, savage goblins, and an army of undead prowl its jungles and ruins. Mapping the place has always been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region’s current geography beyond a few miles from the coast. Working from dozens of sea charts, log books, and explorers’ journals, I assembled everything known about the current state of Chult into one map. I’ll provide it to you if you undertake my mission. When you’re ready to depart, I will teleport us all to Port Nyanzaru, the only major settlement in Chult. I’ve been there several times before, so there’s little chance of mishap. Once there, I’ll stay with a friend named Wakanga O’tamu. He’s one of seven merchant princes who rule the city.”
With a serious tone she asks, "Will you take up this quest for me?"
Kirinar looks to the rest of his friends, and says, "I will embark on this quest for you! Necromancy is an affront to the lawful order of things and can not be allowed to thrive. Besides, my weapons have grown listless and need some enemies to smite. Who's with me?"
"Yes, I'll go as well," Keyleth says. "It sounds like a worthy cause, and I have to say, the prospect of exploring a land unknown to outsiders is exciting. As much as I like the people of Mire's Edge, I've been getting a little restless these last few weeks."
HP Roll 7
You head back to the village of Mire's Edge. A few hours later you have found your way out of the swamp and back to town. With some daylight left you head to Orldebrandt House, home of the retired lord, Rutherley Orldebrandt.
He greets you and ushers you into his home. You report everything that transpired.
"I will not say that I am terribly sad that there no longer is a dragon living this close to us. Small wyrmlings grow into large dragons at some point. We will see if the kobold's that remain will honor their end of the bargain."
He then opens a chest and hands each of you a bag of 100gp.
"As for the lizardfolk, we will wait and see what happens. If the kobolds behave hopefully things will settle down."
And things do seem to settle down. There are no more troubles with the kobolds and they are no longer seen. The lizardfolk stop attacking and threatening the caravans and life settles back to normal.
Keyleth returns the packets of alchemical ingredients recovered from Whipperpool's lost shipment. True to her word Whipperpool allows you to keep anything else you found in the chest.
"Bless your heart lady Keyleth, your help is greatly appreciated! These were important medicinal supplies."
Kirinar is offered a position with the village guard. In fact each of you are. Whether you take them or not you find rooms to rent or places to stay.
Several weeks later life has settled into a comfortable rhythm, although some of you may find the need for more adventure growing within you. You also find yourselves to be treated a bit like celebrity by the common folks of the town.
The quiet whispers of heroes or dragonsbane does not escape your hearing.
But for the past several days, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: a wasting disease afflicting everyone who’s ever been raised from the dead. Victims grow thinner and weaker each day, slowly but steadily sliding toward the death they once denied. When they finally succumb, they can’t be raised — and neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they’ve ever received that miracle in the past. Temples and scholars of divine magic are at a loss to explain a curse that has affected the entire region, and possibly the entire world.
One day a stranger is at the Board Walk Inn, a well-kept tavern build on stilts out over the water. He is asking for the heroes of Mire's Edge, the ones who slew the dragon of the swamp and drove the kobold's away bringing peace back to the area. You meet with the man to see what he wants.
"My master has sent me to find the heroes that slew the dragon that lived in the swamp. She is in need of people with your skills. Your reputation precedes you and the local towns tell of your exploits. Will you accompany me to Easting? That is where she lives. It is a city a weeks travel south of here."
You accompany the man to Easting and are brought to an estate on the edge of town.
You have been invited to the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you up a grand staircase to the third floor, then ushers you into a wood-paneled room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a heavy table bearing goblets and bottles of wine. The darkly paneled walls are hung with maps and sea charts. Racks, shelves, and cabinets hold hundreds more rolled-up maps and charts.
A person is seated in an overstuffed chair near the fire. You can’t discern a gender, because only the person’s head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask conceal the wearer’s face. Even the person’s dry, raspy voice provides no clue. “Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends — I hope I may call you that.”
As the party enters Syndra’s chambers, they also see sitting there with a cup of tea held delicately in his hand and obviously engaged in some sort of deep conversation with Synndra is an extremely old Tortle. His shell and skin are covered in scars which indicates that he has travelled widely across Toril. Of particularly note is a deep gash in his shell caused by what appears to have been some sort of tooth or claw. Perched on his nose are a set of bifocal glasses and as Syndra speaks to the party, he looks over at them with interest.
Once you are settled she tells why she has summoned you to her home.
“I was an adventurer years ago. I died once and was raised from the dead. I have since closed the door on that stage of my life. The death curse you’ve heard about has struck me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last before I perish. Clerics have no help to offer. They’re stymied by what is happening. My contacts in the Harpers have learned that the cause of the death curse is a necromantic artifact called the Soulmonger. According to their sources, the Soulmonger is somewhere in Chult. Chult is a peninsula ringed with mountains and choked with rainforests. Enormous reptiles, savage goblins, and an army of undead prowl its jungles and ruins. Mapping the place has always been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region’s current geography beyond a few miles from the coast. Working from dozens of sea charts, log books, and explorers’ journals, I assembled everything known about the current state of Chult into one map. I’ll provide it to you if you undertake my mission. When you’re ready to depart, I will teleport us all to Port Nyanzaru, the only major settlement in Chult. I’ve been there several times before, so there’s little chance of mishap. Once there, I’ll stay with a friend named Wakanga O’tamu. He’s one of seven merchant princes who rule the city.”
With a serious tone she asks, "Will you take up this quest for me?"
Kirinar looks to the rest of his friends, and says, "I will embark on this quest for you! Necromancy is an affront to the lawful order of things and can not be allowed to thrive. Besides, my weapons have grown listless and need some enemies to smite. Who's with me?"
Love God. Love Others. Any Questions?
“I could use some new surroundings, and something else to spend my gold on.”
"Yes, I'll go as well," Keyleth says. "It sounds like a worthy cause, and I have to say, the prospect of exploring a land unknown to outsiders is exciting. As much as I like the people of Mire's Edge, I've been getting a little restless these last few weeks."
"Darvin" | Changeling | Hexblade 1 / Swords Bard 6 | Descent Into Avernus (AC 19; PP 14; 52/52 HP)
Anton Chergoba | Human | Battlemaster 4 | Lost Mines of Phandelver (AC 20; PP 14; 36/36 HP)
Adventure is continued here
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/32533-tomb-of-annihilation-a-new-adventure