[Hey there! DM Quincy here. This is a small adventure for anyone looking to make friends, get introduced to a group, or just learn to play d&d with a lvl. 1-3 mini-campaign. Hope you enjoy!]
Your journey was uneventful, but the island now visible off thebowpromisesrare wonders. Seaweed shimmers in countless brilliant colors below you, and the rays of sunlight defy theovercast sky to illuminate the lush grass and dark basalt rock of the island. Avoiding the rocks jutting up from the ocean floor, your boat slowly drifts to shore.
I am Fjörn Bhrünt, a simple artisan. I have visited many ports, seen many lands. I love the stories best, each place has a tale, this one is no exception. I look forward to learning and getting to know all that I can.
Fjörn stands a solid 6’ looking as if molded out of golden flesh, with flaxen hair and a charming smile. You may also notice he carries a horn shined to perfection. White shirt black pants, shiny glass buttons.
I am Menelaus Uronos , an old and grumpy blue dragonborn priest of Keranos, a storm god. I've been cloistered in a temple all my life, and am only just now beginning to explore the world outside. I arrived at the island due to my boat being blown off-course during what was supposed to be a mission trip to another island.
Menelaus' navy blue scales don't glisten in the sunlight like the valiant images of dragons most people have in their head. His skin is dull and matte. Perhaps it was beautiful once, but has been cruelly ravaged by age, just like his face. His long snout perpetually drooped down to what seemed like an incurable frown, his teeth were nowhere near sharp enough to cut a piece of paper, and his big eyebrows dramatically complemented his weary, half-lidded rusty orange eyes.
Alone in his small rowboat, Menelaus gets down on his knees to pray. "Almighty Keranos, I thank you for ensuring my survival on this perilous journey to spread your truth. But I have to admit, you really could have done a better job of protecting me. Really? I live in service of you, and you get me lost when I'm trying to share your glory with those who need it the most? Some favor that was. But hey, I guess it could have been worse." He starts to grumble to himself unintelligibly.
I am Rylith, a young half-elf hunter who grew up in the depths of wilderness. Having spent my entire life far from society, I am somewhat lacking of world experience. Though with mysterious decline of animal population in the past few seasons, I must adventure out of the forests to seek new opportunties to support my younger siblings.
A young half-elf, brown eyes, brown hair, somewhat short for his age, stands near the bow of the boat nervously clutching to his spear. This is Rylith's first time traveling by boat, and it hasn't been a good experience. The constant rocking of the vessel has left his head spinning ever since he stepped aboard. He tries to distract himself by looking at the pretty seaweed in the water, but the sight of the choppy waves has only made him want to hurl more. The only comfort he finds is the sight of shore gradually coming into view. The rare wonder on this island will surely make this miserable trip worth worthwhile.
"Hello youngster you look new to the sea, I hope your endurance pays off. This shore looks so beautiful but don't be to relaxed sometimes the nicest looks hide the deadliest predators." Fjörn notices the small rowboat making shore just ahead of his own an interesting is that a Dragonborn, wow I've heard of them before never had a chance to meet one yet. "Ahoy there! Kind sir or ma'am could you also lend a hand as we make shore, say?"
Fjörn feeling a bit inspired pulls his horn and softly begins a jaunty tune as they beach their boat.
As you all row closer to shore, you all catch sight of the island: A large, open-air altar comes into view, perched on the edge of a cliff high above. The ship drops anchor at the mouth of the harbor, and two sailors row you all ashore. You have plenty of time to admire the statue at the temples center, depicting a wizened man accompanied by several songbirds. A path winds up the side of the temple, dotted with small doorways cut into the stone.
The sailors leave you ashore on the rickety dock, where a rowboat waits neatly tied. They point to the paths base and wish you good luck before they start rowing back.
As you all row closer to shore, you all catch sight of the island: A large, open-air altar comes into view, perched on the edge of a cliff high above. The ship drops anchor at the mouth of the harbor, and two sailors row you all ashore. You have plenty of time to admire the statue at the temples center, depicting a wizened man accompanied by several songbirds. A path winds up the side of the temple, dotted with small doorways cut into the stone.
The sailors leave you ashore on the rickety dock, where a rowboat waits neatly tied. They point to the paths base and wish you good luck before they start rowing back.
Your journey to Dragons Rest begins!
"Thank you fellas for the safe voyage! I don't know about you guys but I sure wanna get a better look up at that statue." If no-one else takes the lead Fjörn will head up the winding path.
Rylith immediately feels a sense of relief from the charming stranger's friendly advice and lively tunes. It’s comforting to meet someone so kind in an unfamiliar place. With a gentle smile, he says, "Thank you sir. I'm Rylith, by the way."
As they step off the rowboat, Rylith takes a deep breath. The salty ocean air smells a lot different than the earthy scent he's used to, but he's grateful to finally have solid ground beneath his feet. The others seem far more experienced than he is, and he's determined not to be the one to slow down the expedition. With a spring in his step, he moves ahead quickly. Though not wanting to seem disrespectful, he silently falls back a bit to let Fjorn take the lead.
Menelaus lumbers behind the two, his hunched stature a sharp contrast from the younger adventurers before him. He takes note of the temple. "What an awful condition for a temple to be left in. All this overgrowth...they must not have a dedicated gardener, let alone a priest willing to do it. Now had I been delivered safely to my destination, I would have built one twice as grand with nothing but my own two hands."
He notices the others looking back at him. He just shrugs and keeps moving.
Fjörn tries to recall any history of this particular statue. (history 8) unfortunately nothing immediately comes to mind, and so he turns to Menelaus, "Oh ah do you know to whom this statue is dedicated? You said you'd have built one yourself, excuse me for asking but do you live through the centuries as some of the elven race I've heard are able to. I'm sorry if I seem rude, I'm really just very curious. Where were you headed as well, is this just a stop over to somewhere else? My name is Fjörn Bhrünt, it is an honor to meet both of you."
"It's simply a statue of some stupid mortal man. It is a waste to dedicate the craftsmanship to anyone but the almighty Keranos. I was trying to reach an uncontacted island when I was thrown off-course and landed here- but clearly whoever lives here also needs my help. A blessing in disguise. A very, very thick disguise." he sighs.
As you all stop to gawk at the statue, a sudden wet shuffling, followed by a gurgle catches your attention. Looking behind you, you see three sailors about 30 feet away from you. But they are far from alive. They are all rotting, bones tearing through their skin, organs falling out of their torso to their feet. They seem to notice you, and they look hungry.
Seeing the undead repulses Fjörn to no end, “These disgusting foul horrid things must be destroyed!” He says while reaching once again for his shiny horn…
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Stay back, you wretched unholy... unholy wretched things!" Menelaus brandishes his shield, painted a light turquoise and inlaid with a golden lightning bolt holy symbol.
Rylith is momentarily stunned by the sight of such grotesque violations against the cycle of nature. He tightens his grips around his spear, ready to send these undead abominations back to the earth.
One of the zombies goes first. It looks like it was impaled by part the ships mast, sticking through his chest. It shambles towards the steps, starting to shuffle toward you all.
Melanus, It is your turn.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Quincy
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[Hey there! DM Quincy here. This is a small adventure for anyone looking to make friends, get introduced to a group, or just learn to play d&d with a lvl. 1-3 mini-campaign. Hope you enjoy!]
Your journey was uneventful, but the island now visible off the bow promises rare wonders. Seaweed shimmers in countless brilliant colors below you, and the rays of sunlight defy the overcast sky to illuminate the lush grass and dark basalt rock of the island. Avoiding the rocks jutting up from the ocean floor, your boat slowly drifts to shore.
But first, may I ask who you are?
Quincy
I am Fjörn Bhrünt, a simple artisan. I have visited many ports, seen many lands. I love the stories best, each place has a tale, this one is no exception. I look forward to learning and getting to know all that I can.
Fjörn stands a solid 6’ looking as if molded out of golden flesh, with flaxen hair and a charming smile. You may also notice he carries a horn shined to perfection. White shirt black pants, shiny glass buttons.
Seventh 🌖 Sojourn
I am Menelaus Uronos , an old and grumpy blue dragonborn priest of Keranos, a storm god. I've been cloistered in a temple all my life, and am only just now beginning to explore the world outside. I arrived at the island due to my boat being blown off-course during what was supposed to be a mission trip to another island.
Menelaus' navy blue scales don't glisten in the sunlight like the valiant images of dragons most people have in their head. His skin is dull and matte. Perhaps it was beautiful once, but has been cruelly ravaged by age, just like his face. His long snout perpetually drooped down to what seemed like an incurable frown, his teeth were nowhere near sharp enough to cut a piece of paper, and his big eyebrows dramatically complemented his weary, half-lidded rusty orange eyes.
Alone in his small rowboat, Menelaus gets down on his knees to pray. "Almighty Keranos, I thank you for ensuring my survival on this perilous journey to spread your truth. But I have to admit, you really could have done a better job of protecting me. Really? I live in service of you, and you get me lost when I'm trying to share your glory with those who need it the most? Some favor that was. But hey, I guess it could have been worse." He starts to grumble to himself unintelligibly.
I am Rylith, a young half-elf hunter who grew up in the depths of wilderness. Having spent my entire life far from society, I am somewhat lacking of world experience. Though with mysterious decline of animal population in the past few seasons, I must adventure out of the forests to seek new opportunties to support my younger siblings.
A young half-elf, brown eyes, brown hair, somewhat short for his age, stands near the bow of the boat nervously clutching to his spear. This is Rylith's first time traveling by boat, and it hasn't been a good experience. The constant rocking of the vessel has left his head spinning ever since he stepped aboard. He tries to distract himself by looking at the pretty seaweed in the water, but the sight of the choppy waves has only made him want to hurl more. The only comfort he finds is the sight of shore gradually coming into view. The rare wonder on this island will surely make this miserable trip worth worthwhile.
"Hello youngster you look new to the sea, I hope your endurance pays off. This shore looks so beautiful but don't be to relaxed sometimes the nicest looks hide the deadliest predators." Fjörn notices the small rowboat making shore just ahead of his own an interesting is that a Dragonborn, wow I've heard of them before never had a chance to meet one yet. "Ahoy there! Kind sir or ma'am could you also lend a hand as we make shore, say?"
Fjörn feeling a bit inspired pulls his horn and softly begins a jaunty tune as they beach their boat.
Performance 14
Seventh 🌖 Sojourn
Fjorn's performance provides a short jaunty tune against an otherwise murky and desolate sea. He even hears one or two sailors start whistling along
Quincy
As you all row closer to shore, you all catch sight of the island: A large, open-air altar comes into view, perched on the edge of a cliff high above. The ship drops anchor at the mouth of the harbor, and two sailors row you all ashore. You have plenty of time to admire the statue at the temples center, depicting a wizened man accompanied by several songbirds. A path winds up the side of the temple, dotted with small doorways cut into the stone.
The sailors leave you ashore on the rickety dock, where a rowboat waits neatly tied. They point to the paths base and wish you good luck before they start rowing back.
Your journey to Dragons Rest begins!
Quincy
Quick question: What's our marching order?
Quincy
Im in and im new dc is timberwolf34
"Thank you fellas for the safe voyage! I don't know about you guys but I sure wanna get a better look up at that statue." If no-one else takes the lead Fjörn will head up the winding path.
Seventh 🌖 Sojourn
Rylith immediately feels a sense of relief from the charming stranger's friendly advice and lively tunes. It’s comforting to meet someone so kind in an unfamiliar place. With a gentle smile, he says, "Thank you sir. I'm Rylith, by the way."
As they step off the rowboat, Rylith takes a deep breath. The salty ocean air smells a lot different than the earthy scent he's used to, but he's grateful to finally have solid ground beneath his feet. The others seem far more experienced than he is, and he's determined not to be the one to slow down the expedition. With a spring in his step, he moves ahead quickly. Though not wanting to seem disrespectful, he silently falls back a bit to let Fjorn take the lead.
Menelaus lumbers behind the two, his hunched stature a sharp contrast from the younger adventurers before him. He takes note of the temple. "What an awful condition for a temple to be left in. All this overgrowth...they must not have a dedicated gardener, let alone a priest willing to do it. Now had I been delivered safely to my destination, I would have built one twice as grand with nothing but my own two hands."
He notices the others looking back at him. He just shrugs and keeps moving.
Fjörn tries to recall any history of this particular statue. (history 8) unfortunately nothing immediately comes to mind, and so he turns to Menelaus, "Oh ah do you know to whom this statue is dedicated? You said you'd have built one yourself, excuse me for asking but do you live through the centuries as some of the elven race I've heard are able to. I'm sorry if I seem rude, I'm really just very curious. Where were you headed as well, is this just a stop over to somewhere else? My name is Fjörn Bhrünt, it is an honor to meet both of you."
Seventh 🌖 Sojourn
"I'm Menelaus Uronos." he says. He ponders the statue to see if he recognizes it.
4
"It's simply a statue of some stupid mortal man. It is a waste to dedicate the craftsmanship to anyone but the almighty Keranos. I was trying to reach an uncontacted island when I was thrown off-course and landed here- but clearly whoever lives here also needs my help. A blessing in disguise. A very, very thick disguise." he sighs.
As you all stop to gawk at the statue, a sudden wet shuffling, followed by a gurgle catches your attention. Looking behind you, you see three sailors about 30 feet away from you. But they are far from alive. They are all rotting, bones tearing through their skin, organs falling out of their torso to their feet. They seem to notice you, and they look hungry.
Roll initative.
Quincy
Fjörn initiative 10
Seeing the undead repulses Fjörn to no end, “These disgusting foul horrid things must be destroyed!” He says while reaching once again for his shiny horn…
Seventh 🌖 Sojourn
"Stay back, you wretched unholy... unholy wretched things!" Menelaus brandishes his shield, painted a light turquoise and inlaid with a golden lightning bolt holy symbol.
7
Rylith is momentarily stunned by the sight of such grotesque violations against the cycle of nature. He tightens his grips around his spear, ready to send these undead abominations back to the earth.
Initiative Roll: 5
One of the zombies goes first. It looks like it was impaled by part the ships mast, sticking through his chest. It shambles towards the steps, starting to shuffle toward you all.
Melanus, It is your turn.
Quincy