The town of Jaekin, nestled in the dark forests of Ravenswood, has always been plagued with creatures of the wood - dark beings and elder beasts that haunt the darkness between the leaves. Resting in the shadows of the nearby Cragsmoot mountains the town has existed for decades as both a mining community and a caravan stop along the Kingsway Road. Most travelers that keep to the safety of the inn avoid the plight shared by the common folk of Jaekin, and the constant flow of outsiders knows little of the politics of the town that lies shrouded in shadow and mystery. Only hushed rumors pass amongst outsiders. For decades the town has been governed by a secretive sect known as The Murder Court, a mysterious conglomerate of beings that reside somewhere in the highest peaks of the Cragsmoot. Most outside of Jaekin know nothing of the unseen rulers of the village, and even the residents have little to no knowledge of who or what The Court may be compromised. The newly elected mayor, Haelviird Brodenbuck, has had his fill of existing as a puppet of their dark power, and luckily enough he's now trained his sights on a group of adventurers to serve as Jaekin's ticket out of tyranny.
The Cragsmoot Mountains
The looming mountain range just two miles from Jaekin once was believed nothing more than a home to giants and dragons and any other beasts that found their place in a frigid and inhospitable landscape. Once precious metals were discovered in The Cragsmoot, though, a boom town known as Jaekin was born, and the town has prospered despite its travails ever since. Many believe the mountain range to have been tamed these days, but the residents of Jaekin know better than that.
Ravenswood
The dense forest that blankets the area for miles around Jaekin is broken only by the Kingsway Road and the paths trod by those seeking to mine the rich resources of the Cragsmoot. Sunlight in the valley beneath the mountains is slim even during the summer days, and light rainfall or mists seem nearly ever-present. Even when the overcast cloud cover disperses, the canopy of the forest darkens the earth below. The Ravenswood is a wood full of myth and legend - tall tales of dark fey beings who steal children at night, lycanthropic curses that plague residents and travelers alike, and even more sinister rumors including the puppet masters known as The Murder Court. Dozens have gone missing within the forest over the years since Jaekin's founding.
Your Party
Each of you have found your way to Jaekin for your own reasons and in your own way. The mayor has discovered that a promising band of adventurers has found itself in his town for just such a time as this. You've each received message of a summons to the Mayor's Keep tonight with the promise of employment and great compensation. You've gathered yourselves in The Olde Crow Inn just an hour before the scheduled meeting after securing a few goods around town. Some of you may be acquainted with one another, some less so. Either way, you've overheard enough talk to know that each of you have recieved The mayor's summons.
Begin by posting your backstory and then describe your character here at the inn.
Kesh wasn't the best merchant. It's said that you have to spend money to make money. Kesh didn't really like that first part, so he was loathe to hear the second part. That was in his nature, though not always. As a hatchling, he was far more fascinated in chemistry, magic and mixtures alike. He was often found pretending that he'd unlocked the means to turn lead to gold and cure any malady. His father -- a hard, expectant man -- saw it as folly, a wasteful dream by a foolish child. He was keen on his boy becoming something respectable, such as a tradesman or a caravaneer. So, he encouraged his boy's love of alchemy rather than debase it. He fostered Kesh's love for it, spending obscene amounts of gold for expensive materials and year-round tutors to give him the necessary knowledge to pursue his dreams. Now don't get it twisted; Kesh's father still saw it as pure tripe. But he knew better ways of encouraging alternatives than simple forbiddance. Which is why, four years after the process had begun, his father cut Kesh off. No money, no connections, no materials.
The boy was no fool -- he saw what his father had done. He was committed to his talent, an expensive talent to have. The funding for such a pursuit would not come from thin air. It was, to that end, he saw reason in his father's actions, and began his long journey in learning mercantile law. And though he'd become quite cutthroat as time went on, he never quite forgot his first love. He was eighteen when his father finally croaked, and nineteen when he allowed his trade empire to crumble. Now he seeks what he sought the first time -- to achieve his dreams and pursue his love. That said, his love had also extended coin, making his new life one fraught in financial difficulty. So, upon hear word of a heady reward for blah blah overthrowing blah blah corrupt blah blah blah reached his ear, he jumped at the opportunity to get his gold.
Or he did... sitting at his table, trying to figure out what in the hells he signed up for, he can't help but feel a little buyer's remorse -- or perhaps seller's remorse, seeing as he sold his services. He's almost tempted to flee back to Baldur's Gate, find passage on a ship and push on until he returns home, to Neverwinter. However, as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the soft jingle of heavy gold in his pockets washes all concern away. Such is the consequence of his father's lesson. At the very least, he muses, One can afford new armor. At this, he takes another long drag of his hot cider and continues looking about, anxiously awaiting any sign of his supposed compatriots.
Shaephina Bloodmoon, a half-drow, was born in a remote village of outcasts—a place where those shunned by drow society sought refuge. The village was plagued by periodic invasions and internal strife. From a young age, Shaephina witnessed the deaths of loved ones and the helplessness of the weak. These experiences fueled her determination to protect those who couldn’t defend themselves. Recognizing her innate talent for arcane magic, she began studying blood magic, a forbidden yet potent field that promised the power she sought and brought her on a path on which she encountered Kiaransalee's teachings.
Her life took a transformative turn when she felt a divine calling from Kiaransalee, the drow goddess of vengeance and the undead. The goddess's teachings on the cycles of life and death resonated deeply with Shaephina, echoing the harsh realities she had faced. Embracing this dark path, she dedicated herself to Kiaransalee, blending her wizardly studies with clerical devotion. She became an agent of balance, using her powers to protect the weak, punish the wicked, and maintain the equilibrium between life and death.
Shaephina’s pilgrimage to deepen her connection with Kiaransalee brought her to Jaekin, a town nestled in the dark forests of Ravenswood. The town’s oppressive atmosphere, dominated by the mysterious Murder Court, immediately caught her attention. When she received a summons from the mayor, she recognized an opportunity to restore balance in a place steeped in tyranny. Now, seated in The Olde Crow Inn, Shaephina prepares to meet with the mayor, ready to confront whatever darkness lies ahead.
It was the scandal of the week when the widower patron of a noble family married a drow after his late wife couldn't bear him children. Gossip filled the court; did he have his wife killed? Or was the new Lady responsible, just to get her hands within Waterdavian politics? The nobles' moved on to other scandals a week later, but the gossip was once again renewed when Othorion was born.
Petitions were made to strike him from nobility and have him regarded as a bastard, but Nathaniel, Othorion's father, objected to this, saying his marriage to his wife was lawful. This matter went back and forth for months in public at court, and for years behind the court's eyes, until finally the Hidden Lords decided Othorion would be considered his father's natural child and heir. They closed the matter succinctly afterwards.
During that time, Othorion was trained as a knight, a contingency his father had made. He knew his son would never be accepted by the other nobles unless he proved himself; thus, he was trained in the many ways of warfare. He learned to ride--though he wasn't all that good at it--he learned various weapons and how to use them, how to block and defend himself against them. As the years progressed, his training developed more; he had excellent footwork and a keen acumen for a knight.
While chasing bandits out of his father's lands several years later, some time in his 20th year, he and his small force came across a tower that had not been there. Othorion entered, demanding who would build upon his father's lands without leave when he saw his mother descending the stairs. Asking her why she was there, she told him the nobles would fear her if she practiced her magic in the city, thus she often came to the tower, she then offered to teach him some of the magic she'd learned.
Seeing no reason to refuse, he began studying with is mother. Venturing out with her every fortnight to her tower to study and learn from her grimoire. It wasn't easy at first, but he slowly began learning and fashioning his own spells.
Eventually, his father told him that he'd finished his training and it was time for him to leave the palace and make something of himself, to prove to the Waterdavian nobles that he was as noble and proud as any of them by making himself such a hero that they would have no choice but to accept him.
And now, after answering the call to the plights of Jaeken, he was in the tavern, sitting in a booth with Lucious Undol, his squire, and his two other retainers: Zolts and Beth; all three of them looking around the place as if some beast were going to pop out of the ground at any moment. Othorion was almost content to enjoy his drink while waiting for the others, but the waiting would take a while, and he figured he might as well get to know those who were accompanying him.
Excusing himself from his retainers, and his squire, he saw another half-drow and a dragonborn. He waved his hand to catch the dragonborn's attention before sitting down at the half-drow's table, placing his drink on the table. "You've been called to answer the mayor as well, I take it?" He said loud enough for the others to hear, his voice a bit deep and rich, his pronunciation thick with privilege. "Othorion Sarfir, at your service."
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina, or Shae as she is often called by friends, observed Othorion’s approach with careful scrutiny. Her deep gray skin and silver-white hair stood in stark contrast to her sharp, red-tinged eyes, which narrowed slightly as the half-drow noble neared her table. His presence was unusual—half-drow, like her, yet marked by the unmistakable signs of nobility and privilege. Her gaze briefly flicked to the human retainers he had left behind, noting their demeanor. They didn’t carry themselves like slaves, which was odd. Was Othorion truly different from the other drow she had known, or was there more to his story?
When Othorion introduced himself, Shae rose slightly from her seat, enough to show respect without fully conceding ground. She inclined her head, her posture polite but guarded. His voice was rich and confident, the voice of someone used to command, yet she detected no immediate threat—still, caution was her nature.
“Shaephina Bloodmoon,” she replied, offering her first name in kind. “I do intend to answer the mayor's call. The shadows here seem deep, and there are whispers of great injustice that must be addressed.” She let her words hang, not naming the goddess to whom she prayed, allowing Othorion to draw his own conclusions.
She studied him a moment longer, curiosity tempered with caution, before asking, “And you, Othorion Sarfir? What service do you mean to offer in this endeavor?” Her tone was polite, but her question was direct, probing. Though she remained cordial, it was clear she sought to understand just who she might be aligning with in the trials ahead.
The Dragonborn is wary himself, his scales glistening in the firelight as he watches the two before him. They seem apt to converse of their collective job, so he says nothing and waits, himself listening. His pale yellow eyes flick between the two elves with fleeting curiosity, waiting for any detail that might catch his fancy. Most of it seems the bluster of nobler or more prestigious blood than he, but stranger things have happened than for a commoner to speak as a noble.
Kesh scratches one of his more prominent horns, then takes another drag of cider. He almost regrets selling everything, and packing up shop. Almost. However, the promise of further riches has drawn his attention, and he wonders just what the intentions of these two are. Rather than ask, he watches. Waits. Listens.
...And he hopes, by all Hells, they don't turn his way until after the others arrive. He's not one for conversation, so being forced to sit about and talk to others aside from his job is a... mortifying possibility.
Other than his mother, he hadn't seen any other drow, or half-drow. Thus, seeing one sitting across from him at present was a little surprising, but in a good sort of way. Where had she come from? What was life for her like? By her clothes and demeanour, he could tell she wasn't noble-born and likely had a far different life than he did. Which fascinated him a great deal, especially since they shared a heritage, and he'd finally found someone he didn't know that looked like him.
Over to his side sat the dragonborn, keeping to himself and drinking his cider. If he didn't want to be a part of the conversation, Othorion wasn't going to force him into it, but he offered him a friendly nod, an invitation for him to jump in whenever he wanted. If he wished to. Then he turned his attention back to Shaephina.
Othorion took a moment to undo the leather clasps on his steel gauntlets and slowly took them off, placing them on the table. "Whatever services I can," he said in answer to her question. "You were right when you said there are great injustices here, and I intend to find out exactly what they are. And right them. I just hope the mayor wishes of us the same thing."
He was used to having his intentions questioned; a rather annoying side-effect of his heritage, but he appreciated cordial way Shaephina went about it. He then turned to the barkeep and nodded towards the dragonborn. "Top up his drink, if you would?"
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina offered a faint, approving nod at Othorion's response. His willingness to act against injustice aligned with her own intentions, though she remained cautious. She glanced briefly at the Dragonborn at the other table, acknowledging the their presence with a subtle nod before returning her attention to Othorion. “May our efforts prove worthy,” she replied softly, her tone laced with quiet determination. Othorion's gesture of kindness towards the other guest did not go unnoticed, and she found herself slightly more at ease, 'He must be a half-breed, like me, and apparently leaning more towards his human side.'
Geren was brought up in a cult to the god Myrkul in Baldur’s Gate. Showing a talent for subterfuge and sneak attacks he was selected for training as an assassin. But Geren lacked faith in Myrkul. He had no intention of dying if he could help it so why should he worship a deity who had the inevitability of death as his dogma? Geren appreciated the powers Myrkul provided, but when a group of adventurers attacked the cult he chose to flee with whatever he could take with him.
From there Geren drifted from cult to cult, learning their dark secrets but finding no deities he was interested in worshiping. Shar’s fixation on despair and oblivion was at odds with Geren’s hope for a better life, Grazzt was too much of a good thing, Talos’s destructive creed was pointless, and Mammon’s focus on greed bored Geren. Strangely enough it was his time with a group of Ghaunadaur cultists that almost resulted in Geren converting, but nearly getting devoured by an ooze put an end to that.
Eventually during his initiation into what Geren thought was a cult of Velsharoon worshipers he realized that what he was looking for wasn’t faith, but that the secrets he’d been learning from each cult were an end unto themselves. A tome in the cult’s library made his path clear. It promised to teach him how to learn the secrets of the dead and harvest their power for himself. It wasn’t true spellcasting but it was close enough for Geren.
Now with the powers of a Phantom Geren sought to join the Murder Court on the grounds that they must have secrets worth knowing only to be refused. Deciding that if they won’t give him their secrets then he’ll take them he’s joined with a group of other adventurers hired to take down the Murder Court.
Waiting in the Olde Crow Inn to meet the Mayor Geren passes the time by rolling a set of dice he acquired during his membership in a cult to the goddess of misfortune Beshaba.
Noticing the strangers (two Drow and a dragonborn stand out) Geren listens in on their conversation and realizes they must be here at the Mayor's request as well.
He moves over to their table.
"Well, it looks like we'll be working together. What do you know of the Murder Court, any information could be helpful?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
He could sense the quiet determination in her voice, and he wondered at it. Was she here for some other reason, he pondered to himself, leaning back on his chair. Or was that determined voice because of something personal that had happened to her here? He was going to ask, when another figure joined them, and he turned to look at the figure. Another half-elf, but born from their lighter-skinned cousins.
"It looks like we will," he said. "I'm Othorion Sarfir, by the way."
"Ser Othorion Sarfir," Lucious, his squire, called out, correcting him.
Othorion waved it way. "Othorion will suffice."
Making a history check to see if Othorion knows anything about the Murder Court
15
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina observed the newcomer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. His casual approach and question about the Murder Court piqued her interest, but she remained cautious. The half-elf's demeanor suggested he had a history with shadows, much like herself. “I am Shaephina Bloodmoon,” she introduced herself, her voice calm yet firm. “As for the Murder Court, I’ve heard whispers during my time in Jaekin. They are a shadowy group, ruling this town from the peaks of the Cragsmoot Mountains. Their power is feared, but specifics are elusive. I suspect they deal in more than just intimidation and control—perhaps dark pacts or forbidden magic.” 'Perhaps not unlike myself,' she adds in her mind.
She glanced at Othorion, noting his relaxed posture, then returned her attention to Geren. “We should be wary. The Court’s secrets won’t be easily uncovered, but their hold on this town is a blight that must be removed. Whatever information we gather may prove crucial in breaking their grip.”
Making a history check to see if Othorion knows anything about the Murder Court
14
Othorionknows little more than anyone else concerning The Murder Court. Most casual outsiders of Jaekin know next to nothing about the secretive organization that apparently pulls the strings here. Regular caravans passing through gossip about many things, but until Mayor Brodenbuck's recent outspoken claims defaming Jaekin's apparent overlords, The Court has not been spoken of outside the small circles of the residents here. It would seem that The Murder Court must be Jaekin's dirty little secret...
As the dim light of the sun barely pierced the thick canopy of Ravenswood, casting long, twisted shadows over the cobblestone streets of Jaekin, a figure stepped hurriedly into the town’s murky atmosphere. Joy, a Green Hag Hexblood Paladin of Redemption, moved with purpose, her presence a strange mix of dread and reassurance. The townsfolk, accustomed to the dark beings and elder beasts that haunted the forests, could not help but notice the unusual aura that surrounded her—a subtle blend of otherworldly power and a deep-seated desire to heal the wounds inflicted by darkness.
Joy had seen many places like Jaekin in her travels, towns on the brink of despair, clinging to hope by the thinnest of threads. The oppressive shadow of the Cragsmoot Mountains loomed large over the town, its peaks hiding secrets that had plagued Jaekin for decades. The Murder Court, a mysterious sect that ruled from the unseen heights, was said to control the town with an iron grip, though few knew who or what they truly were. The tales whispered in the Ravenswood of dark fey and lycanthropic curses only served to deepen the sense of unease that hung over the village.
Reaching the entrance to the Old Crowe Inn, Joy paused to catch her breath somewhat before heading inside. Glancing around the interior curiously, she quickly noticed the table of other adventurer-looking types and waved excitedly as she headed over. "Hello there! It seems I'm the last to arrive. Apologies. I got caught up shopping and well...I'm Joy! A pleasure to meet you all!" The, for lack of a better term, joyful smile never left her face as she took a seat, calling out to the barkeep to order the sweetest thing he had. Wow, a Dragonborn! And two half-drow, it seemed, as well as another half-elf! Hopefully they wouldn't be too put off by her own appearance. She wasn't sure how much any of them would know of Hexbloods; many people assumed her a Spring Eladrin or some kind of Dryad upon first seeing her green skin and hair, but the rustic wooden circlet adorning (well, growing out of) her head easily gave it away for the more learned.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Geren has his own sources of information, but he might not know more than anyone else.
"The main thing is to ensure each member of the group shares anything they learn."
OOC: History check 21
"Either way the Mayor's either brave or foolish to take his accusations public. Still, if the Murder Court is as bad as he claims somebody should deal with them and we might as well get paid to do it. I've got experience in this sort of thing, but there's always something new to learn."
He taps the side of his head.
"Knowledge is power."
Geren then puts out a hand for Joy to shake. This certainly would be an exotic group.
"You too, Geren." Joy beams as she enthusiastically shakes his hand. She may not look like it, but she considers his words deeply. It is strange for the Mayor to contact them so openly for help, considering there is a Murder Court on the loose.
Geren has his own sources of information, but he might not know more than anyone else.
"The main thing is to ensure each member of the group shares anything they learn."
OOC: History check 17
Geren indeed does have his own sources and would have heard a talk concerning bits of the Mayor's rhetoric and rumors circling the drains of gossiping circles prior to his arrival in Jaekin:
The mayor was a young upstart that has his head bloated by popular support (even though he is at least in in his mid-twenties to thirty years old)
The aging and less populace generation of Jaekin seem very adamant that the pecking order of the region should not be tampered with. The younger claim they simply lack the courage to buck the status quo.
The mayor claims The Court has had "their way" for far too long and the time had come to rid the land of them once and for all and "send them all back from whence they came!"
He turned, hearing the door open, and watched as a new figure, smiling with a joyful atmosphere around her walked towards their table and sat down, ordering the sweetest thing the place had. Othorion didn't know what sort of sweets this particular inn carried, or if they carried any at all, but he certainly appreciated the stranger's energy.
"I agree," he said, nodding at Geren. "Knowledge is indeed power, and with a governing party known as the Murder Court, I imagine we'll need all the power we can get our hands on."
He then turned to Joy. "Likewise, Joy. Othorion Sarfir, at your service. Those three behind you are my retainers. Lucious, my squire, Zolts, and Beth." He looked around at the others. "Should we decide to go on this little adventure together, Zolts and Beth will be invaluable to you all, I hope. Fetching and buying things, or any other mundane task you may want done."
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Joy nodded to Othorion and gave an energetic wave to his retainers. How fancy! She'd never had much cause to be near a noble, let alone work together with any. He and Geren both sounded dedicated to their cause which was encouraging. Of course, the whole group must each have their own reasons for doing so, but defeating a murderous cult was good any way she looked at it.
"Yes, we'll need all the help we can get! This town is so...full of fear, darkness. We must free them." She looks momentarily confused when a server drops off a mug of ale in front of her but, tasting it curiously, she finds it is indeed sweetened with honey and grins. "It's amazing how there is so much kindness even in such places. I'm sure the townspeople will share what information they can too--just not openly, of course."
Shaephina listened quietly as the others introduced themselves and discussed the task at hand. The new arrivals, Geren and Joy, brought their own unique energies to the table—Geren with his sharp mind and Joy with her infectious optimism. Shae appreciated the diversity in the group but remained cautious, knowing that words often held less weight than actions.
She gave each of them a nod as she spoke, her tone calm and measured. "I am Shaephina Bloodmoon. It seems we have a daunting task ahead of us." She paused, her crimson-tinged eyes scanning the faces at the table. "Speculation has its place, but I prefer to see how things unfold in the field. We’ll learn what we need soon enough."
With that, she leaned back slightly, letting the others continue their conversation while she remained focused on the task ahead, her thoughts already turning to the potential dangers lurking in Jaekin.
The Alchemist quietly ponders what he hears, or at least what parts he pays attention to, but this "Murderous Core" sounds equal parts valuable and terrifying. He wonders how big it is. Perhaps a core is an orb, or perhaps the heart of some grotesque creature? Ah, but he finds himself excited again.
He downs the rest of his cider -- oof, spicy -- and moves to join the others. He says nothing, but with his attention piqued, he cannot help but ingratiate himself among the others. Sidling up to the Drow woman, this 'Bloodied Moon,' he quietly inhales softly and introduces himself with a bow of his head. "Ssashe. One admits he has been listening from a fair distance, but he nonetheless has picked up that you, among the other three, are to be his allies for this trek." He exhales, and draws breath once more, continuing: "You may call one Kesh. It is a novel experience, he is sure."
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Jaekin
The town of Jaekin, nestled in the dark forests of Ravenswood, has always been plagued with creatures of the wood - dark beings and elder beasts that haunt the darkness between the leaves. Resting in the shadows of the nearby Cragsmoot mountains the town has existed for decades as both a mining community and a caravan stop along the Kingsway Road. Most travelers that keep to the safety of the inn avoid the plight shared by the common folk of Jaekin, and the constant flow of outsiders knows little of the politics of the town that lies shrouded in shadow and mystery. Only hushed rumors pass amongst outsiders. For decades the town has been governed by a secretive sect known as The Murder Court, a mysterious conglomerate of beings that reside somewhere in the highest peaks of the Cragsmoot. Most outside of Jaekin know nothing of the unseen rulers of the village, and even the residents have little to no knowledge of who or what The Court may be compromised. The newly elected mayor, Haelviird Brodenbuck, has had his fill of existing as a puppet of their dark power, and luckily enough he's now trained his sights on a group of adventurers to serve as Jaekin's ticket out of tyranny.
The Cragsmoot Mountains
The looming mountain range just two miles from Jaekin once was believed nothing more than a home to giants and dragons and any other beasts that found their place in a frigid and inhospitable landscape. Once precious metals were discovered in The Cragsmoot, though, a boom town known as Jaekin was born, and the town has prospered despite its travails ever since. Many believe the mountain range to have been tamed these days, but the residents of Jaekin know better than that.
Ravenswood
The dense forest that blankets the area for miles around Jaekin is broken only by the Kingsway Road and the paths trod by those seeking to mine the rich resources of the Cragsmoot. Sunlight in the valley beneath the mountains is slim even during the summer days, and light rainfall or mists seem nearly ever-present. Even when the overcast cloud cover disperses, the canopy of the forest darkens the earth below. The Ravenswood is a wood full of myth and legend - tall tales of dark fey beings who steal children at night, lycanthropic curses that plague residents and travelers alike, and even more sinister rumors including the puppet masters known as The Murder Court. Dozens have gone missing within the forest over the years since Jaekin's founding.
Your Party
Each of you have found your way to Jaekin for your own reasons and in your own way. The mayor has discovered that a promising band of adventurers has found itself in his town for just such a time as this. You've each received message of a summons to the Mayor's Keep tonight with the promise of employment and great compensation. You've gathered yourselves in The Olde Crow Inn just an hour before the scheduled meeting after securing a few goods around town. Some of you may be acquainted with one another, some less so. Either way, you've overheard enough talk to know that each of you have recieved The mayor's summons.
Begin by posting your backstory and then describe your character here at the inn.
Murder Court Discord OOC | Phandelver Discord OOC
Kesh wasn't the best merchant. It's said that you have to spend money to make money. Kesh didn't really like that first part, so he was loathe to hear the second part. That was in his nature, though not always. As a hatchling, he was far more fascinated in chemistry, magic and mixtures alike. He was often found pretending that he'd unlocked the means to turn lead to gold and cure any malady. His father -- a hard, expectant man -- saw it as folly, a wasteful dream by a foolish child. He was keen on his boy becoming something respectable, such as a tradesman or a caravaneer. So, he encouraged his boy's love of alchemy rather than debase it. He fostered Kesh's love for it, spending obscene amounts of gold for expensive materials and year-round tutors to give him the necessary knowledge to pursue his dreams. Now don't get it twisted; Kesh's father still saw it as pure tripe. But he knew better ways of encouraging alternatives than simple forbiddance. Which is why, four years after the process had begun, his father cut Kesh off. No money, no connections, no materials.
The boy was no fool -- he saw what his father had done. He was committed to his talent, an expensive talent to have. The funding for such a pursuit would not come from thin air. It was, to that end, he saw reason in his father's actions, and began his long journey in learning mercantile law. And though he'd become quite cutthroat as time went on, he never quite forgot his first love. He was eighteen when his father finally croaked, and nineteen when he allowed his trade empire to crumble. Now he seeks what he sought the first time -- to achieve his dreams and pursue his love. That said, his love had also extended coin, making his new life one fraught in financial difficulty. So, upon hear word of a heady reward for blah blah overthrowing blah blah corrupt blah blah blah reached his ear, he jumped at the opportunity to get his gold.
Or he did... sitting at his table, trying to figure out what in the hells he signed up for, he can't help but feel a little buyer's remorse -- or perhaps seller's remorse, seeing as he sold his services. He's almost tempted to flee back to Baldur's Gate, find passage on a ship and push on until he returns home, to Neverwinter. However, as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the soft jingle of heavy gold in his pockets washes all concern away. Such is the consequence of his father's lesson. At the very least, he muses, One can afford new armor. At this, he takes another long drag of his hot cider and continues looking about, anxiously awaiting any sign of his supposed compatriots.
Shaephina Bloodmoon, a half-drow, was born in a remote village of outcasts—a place where those shunned by drow society sought refuge. The village was plagued by periodic invasions and internal strife. From a young age, Shaephina witnessed the deaths of loved ones and the helplessness of the weak. These experiences fueled her determination to protect those who couldn’t defend themselves. Recognizing her innate talent for arcane magic, she began studying blood magic, a forbidden yet potent field that promised the power she sought and brought her on a path on which she encountered Kiaransalee's teachings.
Her life took a transformative turn when she felt a divine calling from Kiaransalee, the drow goddess of vengeance and the undead. The goddess's teachings on the cycles of life and death resonated deeply with Shaephina, echoing the harsh realities she had faced. Embracing this dark path, she dedicated herself to Kiaransalee, blending her wizardly studies with clerical devotion. She became an agent of balance, using her powers to protect the weak, punish the wicked, and maintain the equilibrium between life and death.
Shaephina’s pilgrimage to deepen her connection with Kiaransalee brought her to Jaekin, a town nestled in the dark forests of Ravenswood. The town’s oppressive atmosphere, dominated by the mysterious Murder Court, immediately caught her attention. When she received a summons from the mayor, she recognized an opportunity to restore balance in a place steeped in tyranny. Now, seated in The Olde Crow Inn, Shaephina prepares to meet with the mayor, ready to confront whatever darkness lies ahead.
|| Myrla - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall || Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Trystane - Trollblood Lycanthrope - Vecna || Taiga - Genasi Fighter - Looking for Group || Riyphou - Loxodon Druid - Secrets || Tez - Half Elf Artificer - Looking for Group || Valerian - Pallid Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Zelaerys - Halfling/Celestial Divine Soul - NWN || Kesili - Human/Dhampir Monk - Witchwood || Trystane (main/gestalt) - Gestalt Trollblood - DOOM ||
It was the scandal of the week when the widower patron of a noble family married a drow after his late wife couldn't bear him children. Gossip filled the court; did he have his wife killed? Or was the new Lady responsible, just to get her hands within Waterdavian politics? The nobles' moved on to other scandals a week later, but the gossip was once again renewed when Othorion was born.
Petitions were made to strike him from nobility and have him regarded as a bastard, but Nathaniel, Othorion's father, objected to this, saying his marriage to his wife was lawful. This matter went back and forth for months in public at court, and for years behind the court's eyes, until finally the Hidden Lords decided Othorion would be considered his father's natural child and heir. They closed the matter succinctly afterwards.
During that time, Othorion was trained as a knight, a contingency his father had made. He knew his son would never be accepted by the other nobles unless he proved himself; thus, he was trained in the many ways of warfare. He learned to ride--though he wasn't all that good at it--he learned various weapons and how to use them, how to block and defend himself against them. As the years progressed, his training developed more; he had excellent footwork and a keen acumen for a knight.
While chasing bandits out of his father's lands several years later, some time in his 20th year, he and his small force came across a tower that had not been there. Othorion entered, demanding who would build upon his father's lands without leave when he saw his mother descending the stairs. Asking her why she was there, she told him the nobles would fear her if she practiced her magic in the city, thus she often came to the tower, she then offered to teach him some of the magic she'd learned.
Seeing no reason to refuse, he began studying with is mother. Venturing out with her every fortnight to her tower to study and learn from her grimoire. It wasn't easy at first, but he slowly began learning and fashioning his own spells.
Eventually, his father told him that he'd finished his training and it was time for him to leave the palace and make something of himself, to prove to the Waterdavian nobles that he was as noble and proud as any of them by making himself such a hero that they would have no choice but to accept him.
And now, after answering the call to the plights of Jaeken, he was in the tavern, sitting in a booth with Lucious Undol, his squire, and his two other retainers: Zolts and Beth; all three of them looking around the place as if some beast were going to pop out of the ground at any moment. Othorion was almost content to enjoy his drink while waiting for the others, but the waiting would take a while, and he figured he might as well get to know those who were accompanying him.
Excusing himself from his retainers, and his squire, he saw another half-drow and a dragonborn. He waved his hand to catch the dragonborn's attention before sitting down at the half-drow's table, placing his drink on the table. "You've been called to answer the mayor as well, I take it?" He said loud enough for the others to hear, his voice a bit deep and rich, his pronunciation thick with privilege. "Othorion Sarfir, at your service."
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina, or Shae as she is often called by friends, observed Othorion’s approach with careful scrutiny. Her deep gray skin and silver-white hair stood in stark contrast to her sharp, red-tinged eyes, which narrowed slightly as the half-drow noble neared her table. His presence was unusual—half-drow, like her, yet marked by the unmistakable signs of nobility and privilege. Her gaze briefly flicked to the human retainers he had left behind, noting their demeanor. They didn’t carry themselves like slaves, which was odd. Was Othorion truly different from the other drow she had known, or was there more to his story?
When Othorion introduced himself, Shae rose slightly from her seat, enough to show respect without fully conceding ground. She inclined her head, her posture polite but guarded. His voice was rich and confident, the voice of someone used to command, yet she detected no immediate threat—still, caution was her nature.
“Shaephina Bloodmoon,” she replied, offering her first name in kind. “I do intend to answer the mayor's call. The shadows here seem deep, and there are whispers of great injustice that must be addressed.” She let her words hang, not naming the goddess to whom she prayed, allowing Othorion to draw his own conclusions.
She studied him a moment longer, curiosity tempered with caution, before asking, “And you, Othorion Sarfir? What service do you mean to offer in this endeavor?” Her tone was polite, but her question was direct, probing. Though she remained cordial, it was clear she sought to understand just who she might be aligning with in the trials ahead.
|| Myrla - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall || Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Trystane - Trollblood Lycanthrope - Vecna || Taiga - Genasi Fighter - Looking for Group || Riyphou - Loxodon Druid - Secrets || Tez - Half Elf Artificer - Looking for Group || Valerian - Pallid Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Zelaerys - Halfling/Celestial Divine Soul - NWN || Kesili - Human/Dhampir Monk - Witchwood || Trystane (main/gestalt) - Gestalt Trollblood - DOOM ||
The Dragonborn is wary himself, his scales glistening in the firelight as he watches the two before him. They seem apt to converse of their collective job, so he says nothing and waits, himself listening. His pale yellow eyes flick between the two elves with fleeting curiosity, waiting for any detail that might catch his fancy. Most of it seems the bluster of nobler or more prestigious blood than he, but stranger things have happened than for a commoner to speak as a noble.
Kesh scratches one of his more prominent horns, then takes another drag of cider. He almost regrets selling everything, and packing up shop. Almost. However, the promise of further riches has drawn his attention, and he wonders just what the intentions of these two are. Rather than ask, he watches. Waits. Listens.
...And he hopes, by all Hells, they don't turn his way until after the others arrive. He's not one for conversation, so being forced to sit about and talk to others aside from his job is a... mortifying possibility.
Other than his mother, he hadn't seen any other drow, or half-drow. Thus, seeing one sitting across from him at present was a little surprising, but in a good sort of way. Where had she come from? What was life for her like? By her clothes and demeanour, he could tell she wasn't noble-born and likely had a far different life than he did. Which fascinated him a great deal, especially since they shared a heritage, and he'd finally found someone he didn't know that looked like him.
Over to his side sat the dragonborn, keeping to himself and drinking his cider. If he didn't want to be a part of the conversation, Othorion wasn't going to force him into it, but he offered him a friendly nod, an invitation for him to jump in whenever he wanted. If he wished to. Then he turned his attention back to Shaephina.
Othorion took a moment to undo the leather clasps on his steel gauntlets and slowly took them off, placing them on the table. "Whatever services I can," he said in answer to her question. "You were right when you said there are great injustices here, and I intend to find out exactly what they are. And right them. I just hope the mayor wishes of us the same thing."
He was used to having his intentions questioned; a rather annoying side-effect of his heritage, but he appreciated cordial way Shaephina went about it. He then turned to the barkeep and nodded towards the dragonborn. "Top up his drink, if you would?"
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina offered a faint, approving nod at Othorion's response. His willingness to act against injustice aligned with her own intentions, though she remained cautious. She glanced briefly at the Dragonborn at the other table, acknowledging the their presence with a subtle nod before returning her attention to Othorion. “May our efforts prove worthy,” she replied softly, her tone laced with quiet determination. Othorion's gesture of kindness towards the other guest did not go unnoticed, and she found herself slightly more at ease, 'He must be a half-breed, like me, and apparently leaning more towards his human side.'
|| Myrla - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall || Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Trystane - Trollblood Lycanthrope - Vecna || Taiga - Genasi Fighter - Looking for Group || Riyphou - Loxodon Druid - Secrets || Tez - Half Elf Artificer - Looking for Group || Valerian - Pallid Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Zelaerys - Halfling/Celestial Divine Soul - NWN || Kesili - Human/Dhampir Monk - Witchwood || Trystane (main/gestalt) - Gestalt Trollblood - DOOM ||
Geren was brought up in a cult to the god Myrkul in Baldur’s Gate. Showing a talent for subterfuge and sneak attacks he was selected for training as an assassin. But Geren lacked faith in Myrkul. He had no intention of dying if he could help it so why should he worship a deity who had the inevitability of death as his dogma? Geren appreciated the powers Myrkul provided, but when a group of adventurers attacked the cult he chose to flee with whatever he could take with him.
From there Geren drifted from cult to cult, learning their dark secrets but finding no deities he was interested in worshiping. Shar’s fixation on despair and oblivion was at odds with Geren’s hope for a better life, Grazzt was too much of a good thing, Talos’s destructive creed was pointless, and Mammon’s focus on greed bored Geren. Strangely enough it was his time with a group of Ghaunadaur cultists that almost resulted in Geren converting, but nearly getting devoured by an ooze put an end to that.
Eventually during his initiation into what Geren thought was a cult of Velsharoon worshipers he realized that what he was looking for wasn’t faith, but that the secrets he’d been learning from each cult were an end unto themselves. A tome in the cult’s library made his path clear. It promised to teach him how to learn the secrets of the dead and harvest their power for himself. It wasn’t true spellcasting but it was close enough for Geren.
Now with the powers of a Phantom Geren sought to join the Murder Court on the grounds that they must have secrets worth knowing only to be refused. Deciding that if they won’t give him their secrets then he’ll take them he’s joined with a group of other adventurers hired to take down the Murder Court.
Waiting in the Olde Crow Inn to meet the Mayor Geren passes the time by rolling a set of dice he acquired during his membership in a cult to the goddess of misfortune Beshaba.
Noticing the strangers (two Drow and a dragonborn stand out) Geren listens in on their conversation and realizes they must be here at the Mayor's request as well.
He moves over to their table.
"Well, it looks like we'll be working together. What do you know of the Murder Court, any information could be helpful?"
He could sense the quiet determination in her voice, and he wondered at it. Was she here for some other reason, he pondered to himself, leaning back on his chair. Or was that determined voice because of something personal that had happened to her here? He was going to ask, when another figure joined them, and he turned to look at the figure. Another half-elf, but born from their lighter-skinned cousins.
"It looks like we will," he said. "I'm Othorion Sarfir, by the way."
"Ser Othorion Sarfir," Lucious, his squire, called out, correcting him.
Othorion waved it way. "Othorion will suffice."
Making a history check to see if Othorion knows anything about the Murder Court
15
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Shaephina observed the newcomer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. His casual approach and question about the Murder Court piqued her interest, but she remained cautious. The half-elf's demeanor suggested he had a history with shadows, much like herself. “I am Shaephina Bloodmoon,” she introduced herself, her voice calm yet firm. “As for the Murder Court, I’ve heard whispers during my time in Jaekin. They are a shadowy group, ruling this town from the peaks of the Cragsmoot Mountains. Their power is feared, but specifics are elusive. I suspect they deal in more than just intimidation and control—perhaps dark pacts or forbidden magic.” 'Perhaps not unlike myself,' she adds in her mind.
She glanced at Othorion, noting his relaxed posture, then returned her attention to Geren. “We should be wary. The Court’s secrets won’t be easily uncovered, but their hold on this town is a blight that must be removed. Whatever information we gather may prove crucial in breaking their grip.”
|| Myrla - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall || Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Trystane - Trollblood Lycanthrope - Vecna || Taiga - Genasi Fighter - Looking for Group || Riyphou - Loxodon Druid - Secrets || Tez - Half Elf Artificer - Looking for Group || Valerian - Pallid Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Zelaerys - Halfling/Celestial Divine Soul - NWN || Kesili - Human/Dhampir Monk - Witchwood || Trystane (main/gestalt) - Gestalt Trollblood - DOOM ||
Othorion knows little more than anyone else concerning The Murder Court. Most casual outsiders of Jaekin know next to nothing about the secretive organization that apparently pulls the strings here. Regular caravans passing through gossip about many things, but until Mayor Brodenbuck's recent outspoken claims defaming Jaekin's apparent overlords, The Court has not been spoken of outside the small circles of the residents here. It would seem that The Murder Court must be Jaekin's dirty little secret...
Murder Court Discord OOC | Phandelver Discord OOC
As the dim light of the sun barely pierced the thick canopy of Ravenswood, casting long, twisted shadows over the cobblestone streets of Jaekin, a figure stepped hurriedly into the town’s murky atmosphere. Joy, a Green Hag Hexblood Paladin of Redemption, moved with purpose, her presence a strange mix of dread and reassurance. The townsfolk, accustomed to the dark beings and elder beasts that haunted the forests, could not help but notice the unusual aura that surrounded her—a subtle blend of otherworldly power and a deep-seated desire to heal the wounds inflicted by darkness.
Joy had seen many places like Jaekin in her travels, towns on the brink of despair, clinging to hope by the thinnest of threads. The oppressive shadow of the Cragsmoot Mountains loomed large over the town, its peaks hiding secrets that had plagued Jaekin for decades. The Murder Court, a mysterious sect that ruled from the unseen heights, was said to control the town with an iron grip, though few knew who or what they truly were. The tales whispered in the Ravenswood of dark fey and lycanthropic curses only served to deepen the sense of unease that hung over the village.
Reaching the entrance to the Old Crowe Inn, Joy paused to catch her breath somewhat before heading inside. Glancing around the interior curiously, she quickly noticed the table of other adventurer-looking types and waved excitedly as she headed over. "Hello there! It seems I'm the last to arrive. Apologies. I got caught up shopping and well...I'm Joy! A pleasure to meet you all!" The, for lack of a better term, joyful smile never left her face as she took a seat, calling out to the barkeep to order the sweetest thing he had. Wow, a Dragonborn! And two half-drow, it seemed, as well as another half-elf! Hopefully they wouldn't be too put off by her own appearance. She wasn't sure how much any of them would know of Hexbloods; many people assumed her a Spring Eladrin or some kind of Dryad upon first seeing her green skin and hair, but the rustic wooden circlet adorning (well, growing out of) her head easily gave it away for the more learned.
Geren has his own sources of information, but he might not know more than anyone else.
"The main thing is to ensure each member of the group shares anything they learn."
OOC: History check 21
"Either way the Mayor's either brave or foolish to take his accusations public. Still, if the Murder Court is as bad as he claims somebody should deal with them and we might as well get paid to do it. I've got experience in this sort of thing, but there's always something new to learn."
He taps the side of his head.
"Knowledge is power."
Geren then puts out a hand for Joy to shake. This certainly would be an exotic group.
"The name's Geren, pleasure to meet you Joy."
"You too, Geren." Joy beams as she enthusiastically shakes his hand. She may not look like it, but she considers his words deeply. It is strange for the Mayor to contact them so openly for help, considering there is a Murder Court on the loose.
ooc: History check 7
Geren indeed does have his own sources and would have heard a talk concerning bits of the Mayor's rhetoric and rumors circling the drains of gossiping circles prior to his arrival in Jaekin:
Murder Court Discord OOC | Phandelver Discord OOC
He turned, hearing the door open, and watched as a new figure, smiling with a joyful atmosphere around her walked towards their table and sat down, ordering the sweetest thing the place had. Othorion didn't know what sort of sweets this particular inn carried, or if they carried any at all, but he certainly appreciated the stranger's energy.
"I agree," he said, nodding at Geren. "Knowledge is indeed power, and with a governing party known as the Murder Court, I imagine we'll need all the power we can get our hands on."
He then turned to Joy. "Likewise, Joy. Othorion Sarfir, at your service. Those three behind you are my retainers. Lucious, my squire, Zolts, and Beth." He looked around at the others. "Should we decide to go on this little adventure together, Zolts and Beth will be invaluable to you all, I hope. Fetching and buying things, or any other mundane task you may want done."
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Joy nodded to Othorion and gave an energetic wave to his retainers. How fancy! She'd never had much cause to be near a noble, let alone work together with any. He and Geren both sounded dedicated to their cause which was encouraging. Of course, the whole group must each have their own reasons for doing so, but defeating a murderous cult was good any way she looked at it.
"Yes, we'll need all the help we can get! This town is so...full of fear, darkness. We must free them." She looks momentarily confused when a server drops off a mug of ale in front of her but, tasting it curiously, she finds it is indeed sweetened with honey and grins. "It's amazing how there is so much kindness even in such places. I'm sure the townspeople will share what information they can too--just not openly, of course."
Shaephina listened quietly as the others introduced themselves and discussed the task at hand. The new arrivals, Geren and Joy, brought their own unique energies to the table—Geren with his sharp mind and Joy with her infectious optimism. Shae appreciated the diversity in the group but remained cautious, knowing that words often held less weight than actions.
She gave each of them a nod as she spoke, her tone calm and measured. "I am Shaephina Bloodmoon. It seems we have a daunting task ahead of us." She paused, her crimson-tinged eyes scanning the faces at the table. "Speculation has its place, but I prefer to see how things unfold in the field. We’ll learn what we need soon enough."
With that, she leaned back slightly, letting the others continue their conversation while she remained focused on the task ahead, her thoughts already turning to the potential dangers lurking in Jaekin.
|| Myrla - Wood Elf Rogue - After the Fall || Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Trystane - Trollblood Lycanthrope - Vecna || Taiga - Genasi Fighter - Looking for Group || Riyphou - Loxodon Druid - Secrets || Tez - Half Elf Artificer - Looking for Group || Valerian - Pallid Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Zelaerys - Halfling/Celestial Divine Soul - NWN || Kesili - Human/Dhampir Monk - Witchwood || Trystane (main/gestalt) - Gestalt Trollblood - DOOM ||
The Alchemist quietly ponders what he hears, or at least what parts he pays attention to, but this "Murderous Core" sounds equal parts valuable and terrifying. He wonders how big it is. Perhaps a core is an orb, or perhaps the heart of some grotesque creature? Ah, but he finds himself excited again.
He downs the rest of his cider -- oof, spicy -- and moves to join the others. He says nothing, but with his attention piqued, he cannot help but ingratiate himself among the others. Sidling up to the Drow woman, this 'Bloodied Moon,' he quietly inhales softly and introduces himself with a bow of his head. "Ssashe. One admits he has been listening from a fair distance, but he nonetheless has picked up that you, among the other three, are to be his allies for this trek." He exhales, and draws breath once more, continuing: "You may call one Kesh. It is a novel experience, he is sure."