Something evil is trapping the souls of the dead and draining life from all who have been raised from death by magic. This worldwide “death curse” not only prevents the raising of the dead but also causes creatures that were previously raised from the dead to wither and die. The source of this death curse lies in a trap-riddled tomb hidden beneath a lost city in the depths of a vast jungle.
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
The sky over the vast city of Waterdeep is grey and weeps down the sky in a steady drizzle. The massive mortared stones of the city walls are wet with rain, the cobbled street slick and worn underfoot. The bustling road in the southern quarter curves narrowly between the three story structures that reach up and sometimes over the byway. Damp figures fill the spaces going every which way, hoods and cowls up covering up to shelter from the rain, leaving Kasaaptu with the distinct feeling that she is alone amongst the masses of anonymous people pressed around her. She has found her way to the city of Waterdeep with its watchful castle stretching upwards above the city. But here, amongst the south ward, one can't see any of that, just the press of trades folks and city people through the narrow winding streets. She steps to the side of the street, taking temporary shelter under an overhang, water dripping down inches from her face and trickling away down rivulets in the grooves between the streets cobblestones. She takes a deep breath. She's here. But she doesn't know why, and doesn't know what's next, only that her patron has nudged her in this direction. Her pack is heavy, her clothing soaked, her skin prickled with goosebumps in the chill. And she's lost. She sighs, stretching out with her feelings, trying to let her patron whisper to her soul and give some direction. Nothing. Minutes pass. Her patron has guided her here, now, to this place and moment, and deserted her. The feeling of alone is overwhelming. She hears a rough cough from a narrow alley just behind her. Turning she sees a figure on the ground, laying on its side. Two people walk past, paying the figure no heed. It's a woman. Her skin is taught and grey, her eyes ancient, her hair grey. She makes eye contact with Kasaaptu and beckons her forward. A tingle travels down Kasaaptu's spine as she moves forward. The woman manages to wheeze a few words, her hands outstretched and pressing a note into Kasaaptu's hand as she says in a weak voice, "I'm too late....it's....taken from me...help...please....someone must take my place..." She closes her eyes and with a final shudder her body is still.
Kasaaptu opens the fine piece of paper, folded neatly. In beautiful script, the note reads, "Cassandra, the curse is growing and stealing my strength more and more each day. We have known each other a long time. We must put aside our differences and solve this before it's too late. Please, attend at my manor on the morrow. You, I, and other like minded individuals must assemble before it's too late. - Syndra. 435 Seaside row, Sea Ward."
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Barty's room above the families store has always been as full of dusty books as it has discarded clothing. The smallish room is cramped, but it was his own, away from his numerous siblings and with a door the prevent unwelcome parents from dropping chores on him. The place smelled dry, of paper, and a certain musky scent that comes with youth locked in a room for too long periods at a time. Barty, his bags packed, his good boots on, his rapier at his side and short bow strapped to his backpack, stood in the space looking around with a heavy sigh. A discarded sock lay across the end of his bed amongst the rumpled blankets. A pile of books that had fallen over lay sprawled across the floor. A littering of papers with notes and doodles sat layered across his tiny desk. It wasn't much. But it was home. A home he'd be leaving. The college had been a dreadful idea, and he couldn't go back to working at the store downstairs. It was time to find his own way. His dad would understand. He opened his door and crept downstairs. Everyone was busy in the store except his father sitting at his desk in his study. Barty crept past, his father seemingly not noticing, and reached for the front door's handle. He paused for a moment, with a light sigh, before grasping the handle. His father's voice from behind him made him jump. "Barty." Barty turned, his mind racing about how he'd explain the situation. His dad looked sad, but also..a glimmer of something else. "It took you long enough. I was thinking this time would have come months back. You really gave the college a go of it. You make me proud. But, you were never meant to be here. You have the wunderlust. I know it well. Your mom and I didn't always run a book store you know." He smiles, a memory crossing past his face. "Look. The timing may work out very well. A family friend of ours, really, a friend of your mothers from years past, has asked your mom for help...but...that life of hers is way past. But...we talked, and we think that you could represent the family quite well. If you're ok with hit, we'd like you to go and meet her. She lives in the Sea Ward. Her name is Syndra. I believe she has something that needs doing, and I believe it will take you far from this city." He pauses, a glimmer of worry, "Just...be careful. Remember. Knowing when to leap, and knowing when not to leap, is the survivors trait." He smiles. "Your mom used to say that to me all the time. 435 Seaside row. Please give Syndra your mom's regards."
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Silus stands in the office of the Deacon of the church of Torm in Waterdeeps castle district. The room was appointed with deep red wood, the walls covered in shelves filled with books and artifacts of all sorts. Thick black curtains hang to either side of the thin windows, a dim light leaking between them. The big red stained desk filled the room in an intimidating way, the man behind quiet and studious, but also hulking beneath his robes. His stubbled shin and dark lined eyes reveal some level of exhaustion. "Silus, I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to the head Deacon as you requested. He's fallen ill and I've taken up his position in the interim. I understand you've come, drawn by the same quest that many others have. We are all confused by this mysterious illness befalling many of our friend and allies. And for once, we seem powerless to help. We have already sent many of our acolytes out on quests. There are others as well. One of our allies in the city, Syndra Silvane, has also been questing. She has recently requested another of our senior members to join another quest, but I'm afraid we can spare no more senior members. Please report to her at her home. 435 Seaside Row in the Sea Ward. Giver her our regards and please do well to represent the best of the church of Torm on this matter. There is a runner downstairs, he will show you the way since I understand you are new to Waterdeep, and we don't need you getting lost before you even begin your quest. That will be all." He turns his attention back to the papers on the desk in front of him in a brusque dismissive manner.
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Silas will bown to the acting Deacon "I will try my best to upload the reputation of the Church in this venture," then noisly make his way down to find the runner. On the way, Silas will like to ask him about Syndra Silvane. Who is she? What does she do? Why is asking for assistance?
Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls - Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against Demogorgon Silas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of Annihilation Done
Barty takes a moment to appreciate his father’s, well his mother’s words of wisdom. A small smile creeks out the side of his mouth as he takes his hand off the doorknob. Doing something he only remembers as a boy, he embraces his father for a hug. “I’ll be back...”. As he takes his leave and departs following his instructions.
Silas: The runner turns out to be a young acolyte of Torm, a teen tall and lanky and just growing into his body still, but touting a warhammer and leather armor under his Torm robe. The boy seems obedient, and clearly knows his way around, but his eyes are a tad vacant and in answer to your various questions he just shrugs, clearly not aware of any of the intricacies of church and noble family relations. When you ask why she may be asking for assistance he shrugs, "Cause folks dying when they shouldn't be, and people want Torm's help. He'll answer our calls, if we ask loud nough."
Silas & Barty: The weather in the city is best described as grey. Grey sky, grey sea, grey drizzle drenching the city, the air thick with damp. When each of you arrive at the Silvane house in the sea ward you're presented with a grand stone structure on the edge of the city, perched high above the ocean side, and nestled between two other large estates. Clearly owned by a well off noble, the home features large stone pillars, sweeping windows, and large open decks on the ocean side of the mansion. As you enter through the iron fencing and into the front courtyard, you make your way to the front doors sheltered beneath a pillar overhang that stretches out over a round cobbled path for carriages. You knock at the door. The door opens and a large fellow that is dressed like a butler answers, though based on the size of his neck, he does more than just fetch around the house.
Silas: He looks you up and down, a look of disappointment settling on his face, before ushering you into the house.
Barty: He looks down upon you, a confused frown forming on his face. "Can I help you?" You introduce yourself. He pauses, and then shrugs and lets you in.
You're led through the main foyer, a smooth marble affair with two sweeping stairways leading upwards. He brings you through a set of double doors on the ground level to the left of stairs and into a large well appointed room. A piano is situated in the center of the room, while couches and fine furniture extend throughout, with large exotic plants filling the space with a breath of life. Large windows open on the back of the house facing out across the ocean below the cliff, with a breathtaking view.
The butler, "Please be seated. We are awaiting a few more to attend to us."
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Badger peers out from within his cloak's hood, the drizzle forming droplets along the edge of his hood. He counts each one, taking a step in kind, letting them guide his journey. The city of wonders has been that, and he's been wandering for a better part of the day, letting the fates lead him. He finds himself in a rather posh corner of the city with big houses and quiet streets. The droplets of water stop temporarily as the drizzle lets off for a moment. He stops, looking around for another sign. It's quiet, with a few couriers making their way to and fro. But his eye catches the form of something out of place. A woman, striking in form, soaked in a damp cloak, its hood clinging to the horns that obviously produce from her head. The tiefling does not belong in this part of town, and seems to be making her way somewhere purposely. Badger's curiosity is peaked. After all, the fates did bring him here and now.
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
The encounter with he dying woman snaps Kasaaptu out of her weariness and confusion. No longer feeling lost, she heads towards the sea ward to locate the address. At first she considered finding a city watchman to notify about the deceased woman, but then thought better of it. There is a long history of mistrust of humans toward her kind, no need to hamper her new quest with answering questions she has no answer for.
Once she locates the home of this Syndra, she will observe the goings on before she approaches. To be sure it wasn't a trap set for the now dead Cassandra.
She walks with confidence through the city streets, amazed at the power and insight of her patron to have arranged this. A power she would one day like to possess
Sir Darak Darkhall stands proud, steel links of his chainmail suit glistening in the damp rain underneath his cloak, his shield on his back, his longsword in his well oiled sheath at his side, his bundle of five still tipped wooden javelin's tied to his back, a striking figure standing amidst the glorious city of wonders, the great city of Waterdeep, his head high, his chest out, hands planted on his hips as he stares down the mysterious fate that has brought him forward on this great quest, he stands, looking into the distance, his eyes dark and mysterious, his hair blowing in the wind, his ... "Move aside!" says a diminutive bent over human, as he shoves in Darak and pushes past him down the street. "Excuse ME..." says woman as she dodges Darak's swaying figure and continues down the street. A man on a wagon glares down towards him, "Get da'HELL out a' the way ya miscreant!".
Darak moves to the side of the cobbled road, his gleaming steal emblazoned boots clattering on the slick cobbles. He stands, proudly, beneath an overhand in the cities castle district. Two members of the city watch, with stained shirts and damp stringy hair lean against a post across the street, smirking his way.
"Don't mind them one bit," the gravely thick voice at his side comes from the half-orc that had becomes his unlikely companion as they'd made their way across the countryside towards their common goal, the city of Waterdeep. Sickle was his name, the oddly calm and personable half-orc, who he'd met a week past who'd turned out to be unusually wise.
Darak nodded and looked down at the piece of paper. They'd torn it off a message board at a raucous inn called the "Yawning Portal" that sported a pit into some hellish deep monster filled maze. The paper had been on a job board and seemed the most promising for the two of them. "Looking for brave and clever warriors to accompany an expedition to save the lives of thousands. 435 Seaside Row, Sea Ward." If he was being honest with himself, this whole thing felt like bit of a failure. Tyr had sent him here, the Deep Wardens had given him their trust, his entire life, years of training, his family name, all to get him to this place. This wretched city where the rain seemed to go on for days, where it was cold, the people were abrupt or outride rude, and the streets were packed. In this place he and his ally Sickle had spent three days "trusting their fate" to whatever came their way. Sickle had finally convinced him, "Let's just get us a job, see where it takes us, maybe that's fate."
The paper in his hands seemed like a betrayal. It seemed all the more since they'd had a heck of a time finding Seaside Row. They'd found Seaside street, Seaside alley, and Seaside avenue, but no damned Seaside Row. This entire city was next to the sea for Tyr's sake. Sickle tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed down the street to a sign that read, "Sea Ward". "There we go, that should get us closer." Nodding tersely, he set out with Sickle close behind.
It was perhaps a soaked, drenched, wet, and otherwise thoroughly frigid hour later when they arrived outside of the mansion at 435 Seaside Row. A rap on the door and a muscle bound bouncer in a suit appeared at the door. The butler looked appraisingly at the two of them, "Can I help you?" Darak held out the paper.
"We are two brave and clever warriors who seek to..."
The butler interrupted, looking suddenly pleased, "Oh, excellent, right, come this way please."
He led the two of them in through a glorious entranceway, upon the floor which the dripped several large puddles worth of water, as he led them into a large sitting room complete with a wonderful view of the ocean, a large piano, several couches, and most importantly a large lit fireplace. A halfling and a cleric sit on a couch nearby chatting, as if they were ready to step into the opening line of a good joke. Both look over as Darak and Sickle enter the room.
The Butler makes a "hmmm" sound, then says, "A few more minutes please, then we will get started."
The four of you are left in the large, well lit, warm dry room with a wonderful view.
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Kasaaptu watches from a thin walkway between two houses as the half-orc and human warrior both go into the property, heading inside after only a momentary exchange at the door.
Badger watches the Tiefling from down the street just inside a small furniture shop where he's been pretending to examine chair fabric for the past twenty minutes. He's grown rather partial to the plush velvety purple if he's being honest with himself. Though there's this golden colored leather which would probably hold up well and add a splash of color to any house. The salesman who has already approached twice peaks over at the gnome from around his desk, but then goes back to his....whatever boring and uninteresting thing that he may do with his life when he's not selling furniture. Badger momentarily wonders if this fabric choice is going to come back to haunt him, a vision of some velvety purple hell he may some day end up in.
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
Reaching up to stroke the velvet once more, Badger's hand knocks a small pouch tied at his waist, and 7 small bones of various shape fall onto the floor. Badger gasps in alarm as he glances at the pattern in which the fallen bones lay - the five-pointed star, the maiden, and (yet-again!) the sigil for the 'A' rune in Gnomish. Stooping to gather up the bones, he glances back again at the female tiefling lurking nearby - she must be the one! Scurrying hurriedly out of the store (to the storeman's dismay) into the drizzle, Badger approaches the tiefling and addresses her in his broken Common.
Urgh - excuse me! Is your name by any chance begin with the letter 'A'?
Sir Darak Darkhall:A tall, grim-faced man with dark eyes and darker demeanor strides forward into the hall. He removes his drenched cloak as he steps toward the hearth to dry himself, firelight shimmering and dancing across his ornate chain mail armor. Emblazoned upon the chest-piece can be seen a black sword wreathed in flames - the family Crest of House Darkhall - marking this man as nobility. A Knight of the Realm.
Crouching to warm himself, the holy emblem of Tyr becomes visible upon the kite shield strapped across his broad back. Right-hand resting upon the hilt of his sheathed longsword, he stares into the flames as he stirs the fire with his left.
Not accustom to entering a room without his Marshal to announce him, Darak is not entirely sure the proper protocol in this sort of situation. He decides to remain silent as he awaits the other guests, wondering why the Squire, Marshal and Groom his Father dispatched have not arrived yet.
Silas will introduce himself to the two newcomers "Hello. I am SIlas, a cleric representing the Church of Torm. I hope you are good this day," He present his hand to both of them, giving both the same introduction. "If it does not trouble you too much, may I inquire of the events of which we are bringing brought together this day?"
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Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls - Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against Demogorgon Silas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of Annihilation Done
Having observed several adventurers enter the house of Syndra and so far no sounds of death or battle, Kassaptu feels confident this is not a trap and prepares to stop skulking and knock on the door. When the small man approaches and asks if her name start with an "A".
She smiles warmly at the fellow and answers, " my name is Kassaptu. That starts with a K, unless a K is an A in your language, the answer is no."
"Now that you know my name, what would be yours? And would you like to head to the house across the road? There seems to be a party I have been fortuitously invited to and I dont want to miss out on any of the fun"
In her mind she wonders if this little man is another sign from her Patron, or is he just a random person asking a random question? Does the "A" he asked about have something to do with her Patron or this quest...
When Badger learns that the tiefling's name doesn't actually begin with A but does in fact include three As, his face lights up with delights as he feels that his prediction is true, and that he has encountered an agent of fate. He rubs his bulbous nose thoughtfully as he ruminates out loud, then responds to Kaspaatu:
Of course! The Rule of Three! The oracles have brought me to you, O Portentious One. Lead on and I will follow where destiny leads! You may call me 'Badger'...
As they walk together through the rain, Badger chats animatedly to Kaspaatu about how much he enjoys rain, not having experienced it in his Underworld home, and even though they don't have sun, he seems to take delight in the rain even more than the sun, perhaps because it reminds him of the subtle predictability of fate compared with the overt rhythm of the sun, and in fact had she heard the story about the sparrow and the albatross ....
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How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
The large half-orc walked into the sitting room and saw the occupants seated and talking together when they walked in. He too removed a soaked cloak and hung it by the fire to dry. Underneath, he was well dressed, or would have been if he wasn't soaked to the bone from the weather of the day. His fine clothes were muddy near the bottoms from extended travel. He looked to his companion for a moment, then when he showed no sign of taking the lead, he shook the cleric's hand and introduced them both. "Well met, travelers. I am Sickle of House Thundersar, of Mirabar. This is my companion, Sir Darak Darkhall. We came together to Waterdeep, each for his own, but are following this particular strand of fate wherever it may lead...which for now appears to be here. There was talk of need for brave and clever warriors...is it you who is in need?" When he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly, but surprisingly genteel. He spoke slowly and clearly, and his demeanor exhibited calm.
Silas will look up and down the half orc before speaking "I believe we are of the same stock int his regard. We were all summoned here but our host has yet to appear. If she is one in need or know who is need is unknown to myself. As the steward has said, she should be here in a few minutes,"
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Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls - Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against Demogorgon Silas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of Annihilation Done
Badger and Kasaaptu arrive at the door just as the verbose gnome is about to really get into the details of the albatross' motivations. Kasaaptu knocks on the door, using the large brass door knocker. A thick necked well dressed butler appears at the door a few moments later, looking out into the cold and wet, scrunching his nose in a displeased manner as he looks down upon the two travellers. You can tell his instinct is to just shut the door, as he hand clenches on the door frame for a moment, but he manages to resist, and, almost with rolling eyes, says, "Yes? Can I...ahem...help you?"
Badger immediately sets out into a story about the Fates, the five pointed star and the maiden, which results in an almost immediately sigh of regret from the beset butler.
He interrupts Badger a few moments later, "Alright, alright, fine, you're here to help, great...please, come in."
The warm, large study, with fantastic views of the grey ocean below waterdeeps cliffs, sporting a blazing fire that is rapidly drying some damp cloaks, a silent piano, and now six people as a small gnome and a hooded tiefling enter the room. The butler says, "I will return momentarily with the master of the house. Please take a seat."
With little time except for brief introductions, names are passed around before a wheeled wooden chair being pushed by the butler comes into the room. In the chair is an old, somewhat feeble looking half-elf woman. Her hair is golden, but has that stringy look that comes with age, her eyes that were once blue are now more grey. She is wrapped in a thick blanket.
She is rolled near the fire, and facing all six of the people in the room. Her eyes betray an intelligence and energy that is missing from her ailing body as they dance from individual face to face. At last she sighs heavily, and then makes eye contact with the halfling in the room. When she speaks, her voice is dry and crackling, "You must be Balinda's son. I see her face in you. How is your mother? I hope she is well after all of these years." She turns her attention to the larger group, "Thank you all for coming. I do not recognize any of the rest of your faces, though I do recognize the symbol of Torm, and I appreciate the church's support in this manner." As she speaks, her Butler has returned with a tray of fine glass flutes and a large decanter of red wine. He places it on a low table in the middle of the group. "Help yourselves to wine friends. I hope I may call you that. My name is Syndra Silvane. I was an adventurer years ago, along with your mother Balinda." She nods to the halfling.
Barty, you lose yourself in trying to imagine your mother, the book keeper as an adventurer and you fail completely.
Syndra continues, "During my adventurer, I was killed. My allies were able to pull my spirit back from afterlife and bring me back to this world. I was raised from the dead. However, there has been a mysterious curse befalling those across the world who have ever been revived from death, and it is killing us all. This death curse as people are calling it has struck me. I do not know how much longer before I will perish." She motions to the priest of Torm, "The clerics have been just as stymied and unable to help as anyone. I do have contacts from my adventuring days, in the Harpers, and they have learned that the cause of this death curse is a necromatic artifact called the 'Soulmonger'. A terrible sounding name indeed. According to some of their sources, they believe this Soulmonger is somewhere far away in the distant jungles of Chult. I have called in favors, and old friends, to assemble a group of brave adventurers to attempt to find and stop this Soulmonger." She pauses, scanning the faces of the strangers in front of her. "If you are not interested, leave now. Otherwise, please, tell me your names, and ask your questions."
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What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer? Class.
"I am Silas from the temple of Torm from afar. My teacher, whom I owe my life, has fallen ill and given what you say, is under the same curse as you. I only have one question, when we do leave?" Silas stands at attention holding the holy symbol around his necklace.
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Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls - Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against Demogorgon Silas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of Annihilation Done
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Something evil is trapping the souls of the dead and draining life from all who have been raised from death by magic. This worldwide “death curse” not only prevents the raising of the dead but also causes creatures that were previously raised from the dead to wither and die. The source of this death curse lies in a trap-riddled tomb hidden beneath a lost city in the depths of a vast jungle.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
The sky over the vast city of Waterdeep is grey and weeps down the sky in a steady drizzle. The massive mortared stones of the city walls are wet with rain, the cobbled street slick and worn underfoot. The bustling road in the southern quarter curves narrowly between the three story structures that reach up and sometimes over the byway. Damp figures fill the spaces going every which way, hoods and cowls up covering up to shelter from the rain, leaving Kasaaptu with the distinct feeling that she is alone amongst the masses of anonymous people pressed around her. She has found her way to the city of Waterdeep with its watchful castle stretching upwards above the city. But here, amongst the south ward, one can't see any of that, just the press of trades folks and city people through the narrow winding streets. She steps to the side of the street, taking temporary shelter under an overhang, water dripping down inches from her face and trickling away down rivulets in the grooves between the streets cobblestones. She takes a deep breath. She's here. But she doesn't know why, and doesn't know what's next, only that her patron has nudged her in this direction. Her pack is heavy, her clothing soaked, her skin prickled with goosebumps in the chill. And she's lost. She sighs, stretching out with her feelings, trying to let her patron whisper to her soul and give some direction. Nothing. Minutes pass. Her patron has guided her here, now, to this place and moment, and deserted her. The feeling of alone is overwhelming. She hears a rough cough from a narrow alley just behind her. Turning she sees a figure on the ground, laying on its side. Two people walk past, paying the figure no heed. It's a woman. Her skin is taught and grey, her eyes ancient, her hair grey. She makes eye contact with Kasaaptu and beckons her forward. A tingle travels down Kasaaptu's spine as she moves forward. The woman manages to wheeze a few words, her hands outstretched and pressing a note into Kasaaptu's hand as she says in a weak voice, "I'm too late....it's....taken from me...help...please....someone must take my place..." She closes her eyes and with a final shudder her body is still.
Kasaaptu opens the fine piece of paper, folded neatly. In beautiful script, the note reads, "Cassandra, the curse is growing and stealing my strength more and more each day. We have known each other a long time. We must put aside our differences and solve this before it's too late. Please, attend at my manor on the morrow. You, I, and other like minded individuals must assemble before it's too late. - Syndra. 435 Seaside row, Sea Ward."
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Barty's room above the families store has always been as full of dusty books as it has discarded clothing. The smallish room is cramped, but it was his own, away from his numerous siblings and with a door the prevent unwelcome parents from dropping chores on him. The place smelled dry, of paper, and a certain musky scent that comes with youth locked in a room for too long periods at a time. Barty, his bags packed, his good boots on, his rapier at his side and short bow strapped to his backpack, stood in the space looking around with a heavy sigh. A discarded sock lay across the end of his bed amongst the rumpled blankets. A pile of books that had fallen over lay sprawled across the floor. A littering of papers with notes and doodles sat layered across his tiny desk. It wasn't much. But it was home. A home he'd be leaving. The college had been a dreadful idea, and he couldn't go back to working at the store downstairs. It was time to find his own way. His dad would understand. He opened his door and crept downstairs. Everyone was busy in the store except his father sitting at his desk in his study. Barty crept past, his father seemingly not noticing, and reached for the front door's handle. He paused for a moment, with a light sigh, before grasping the handle. His father's voice from behind him made him jump. "Barty." Barty turned, his mind racing about how he'd explain the situation. His dad looked sad, but also..a glimmer of something else. "It took you long enough. I was thinking this time would have come months back. You really gave the college a go of it. You make me proud. But, you were never meant to be here. You have the wunderlust. I know it well. Your mom and I didn't always run a book store you know." He smiles, a memory crossing past his face. "Look. The timing may work out very well. A family friend of ours, really, a friend of your mothers from years past, has asked your mom for help...but...that life of hers is way past. But...we talked, and we think that you could represent the family quite well. If you're ok with hit, we'd like you to go and meet her. She lives in the Sea Ward. Her name is Syndra. I believe she has something that needs doing, and I believe it will take you far from this city." He pauses, a glimmer of worry, "Just...be careful. Remember. Knowing when to leap, and knowing when not to leap, is the survivors trait." He smiles. "Your mom used to say that to me all the time. 435 Seaside row. Please give Syndra your mom's regards."
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Silus stands in the office of the Deacon of the church of Torm in Waterdeeps castle district. The room was appointed with deep red wood, the walls covered in shelves filled with books and artifacts of all sorts. Thick black curtains hang to either side of the thin windows, a dim light leaking between them. The big red stained desk filled the room in an intimidating way, the man behind quiet and studious, but also hulking beneath his robes. His stubbled shin and dark lined eyes reveal some level of exhaustion. "Silus, I'm afraid you won't be able to speak to the head Deacon as you requested. He's fallen ill and I've taken up his position in the interim. I understand you've come, drawn by the same quest that many others have. We are all confused by this mysterious illness befalling many of our friend and allies. And for once, we seem powerless to help. We have already sent many of our acolytes out on quests. There are others as well. One of our allies in the city, Syndra Silvane, has also been questing. She has recently requested another of our senior members to join another quest, but I'm afraid we can spare no more senior members. Please report to her at her home. 435 Seaside Row in the Sea Ward. Giver her our regards and please do well to represent the best of the church of Torm on this matter. There is a runner downstairs, he will show you the way since I understand you are new to Waterdeep, and we don't need you getting lost before you even begin your quest. That will be all." He turns his attention back to the papers on the desk in front of him in a brusque dismissive manner.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Silas will bown to the acting Deacon "I will try my best to upload the reputation of the Church in this venture," then noisly make his way down to find the runner. On the way, Silas will like to ask him about Syndra Silvane. Who is she? What does she do? Why is asking for assistance?
Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls- Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against DemogorgonSilas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of AnnihilationDoneBarty takes a moment to appreciate his father’s, well his mother’s words of wisdom. A small smile creeks out the side of his mouth as he takes his hand off the doorknob. Doing something he only remembers as a boy, he embraces his father for a hug. “I’ll be back...”. As he takes his leave and departs following his instructions.
Silas: The runner turns out to be a young acolyte of Torm, a teen tall and lanky and just growing into his body still, but touting a warhammer and leather armor under his Torm robe. The boy seems obedient, and clearly knows his way around, but his eyes are a tad vacant and in answer to your various questions he just shrugs, clearly not aware of any of the intricacies of church and noble family relations. When you ask why she may be asking for assistance he shrugs, "Cause folks dying when they shouldn't be, and people want Torm's help. He'll answer our calls, if we ask loud nough."
Silas & Barty: The weather in the city is best described as grey. Grey sky, grey sea, grey drizzle drenching the city, the air thick with damp. When each of you arrive at the Silvane house in the sea ward you're presented with a grand stone structure on the edge of the city, perched high above the ocean side, and nestled between two other large estates. Clearly owned by a well off noble, the home features large stone pillars, sweeping windows, and large open decks on the ocean side of the mansion. As you enter through the iron fencing and into the front courtyard, you make your way to the front doors sheltered beneath a pillar overhang that stretches out over a round cobbled path for carriages. You knock at the door. The door opens and a large fellow that is dressed like a butler answers, though based on the size of his neck, he does more than just fetch around the house.
Silas: He looks you up and down, a look of disappointment settling on his face, before ushering you into the house.
Barty: He looks down upon you, a confused frown forming on his face. "Can I help you?" You introduce yourself. He pauses, and then shrugs and lets you in.
You're led through the main foyer, a smooth marble affair with two sweeping stairways leading upwards. He brings you through a set of double doors on the ground level to the left of stairs and into a large well appointed room. A piano is situated in the center of the room, while couches and fine furniture extend throughout, with large exotic plants filling the space with a breath of life. Large windows open on the back of the house facing out across the ocean below the cliff, with a breathtaking view.
The butler, "Please be seated. We are awaiting a few more to attend to us."
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Badger peers out from within his cloak's hood, the drizzle forming droplets along the edge of his hood. He counts each one, taking a step in kind, letting them guide his journey. The city of wonders has been that, and he's been wandering for a better part of the day, letting the fates lead him. He finds himself in a rather posh corner of the city with big houses and quiet streets. The droplets of water stop temporarily as the drizzle lets off for a moment. He stops, looking around for another sign. It's quiet, with a few couriers making their way to and fro. But his eye catches the form of something out of place. A woman, striking in form, soaked in a damp cloak, its hood clinging to the horns that obviously produce from her head. The tiefling does not belong in this part of town, and seems to be making her way somewhere purposely. Badger's curiosity is peaked. After all, the fates did bring him here and now.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
The encounter with he dying woman snaps Kasaaptu out of her weariness and confusion. No longer feeling lost, she heads towards the sea ward to locate the address. At first she considered finding a city watchman to notify about the deceased woman, but then thought better of it. There is a long history of mistrust of humans toward her kind, no need to hamper her new quest with answering questions she has no answer for.
Once she locates the home of this Syndra, she will observe the goings on before she approaches. To be sure it wasn't a trap set for the now dead Cassandra.
She walks with confidence through the city streets, amazed at the power and insight of her patron to have arranged this. A power she would one day like to possess
Sir Darak Darkhall stands proud, steel links of his chainmail suit glistening in the damp rain underneath his cloak, his shield on his back, his longsword in his well oiled sheath at his side, his bundle of five still tipped wooden javelin's tied to his back, a striking figure standing amidst the glorious city of wonders, the great city of Waterdeep, his head high, his chest out, hands planted on his hips as he stares down the mysterious fate that has brought him forward on this great quest, he stands, looking into the distance, his eyes dark and mysterious, his hair blowing in the wind, his ... "Move aside!" says a diminutive bent over human, as he shoves in Darak and pushes past him down the street. "Excuse ME..." says woman as she dodges Darak's swaying figure and continues down the street. A man on a wagon glares down towards him, "Get da'HELL out a' the way ya miscreant!".
Darak moves to the side of the cobbled road, his gleaming steal emblazoned boots clattering on the slick cobbles. He stands, proudly, beneath an overhand in the cities castle district. Two members of the city watch, with stained shirts and damp stringy hair lean against a post across the street, smirking his way.
"Don't mind them one bit," the gravely thick voice at his side comes from the half-orc that had becomes his unlikely companion as they'd made their way across the countryside towards their common goal, the city of Waterdeep. Sickle was his name, the oddly calm and personable half-orc, who he'd met a week past who'd turned out to be unusually wise.
Darak nodded and looked down at the piece of paper. They'd torn it off a message board at a raucous inn called the "Yawning Portal" that sported a pit into some hellish deep monster filled maze. The paper had been on a job board and seemed the most promising for the two of them. "Looking for brave and clever warriors to accompany an expedition to save the lives of thousands. 435 Seaside Row, Sea Ward." If he was being honest with himself, this whole thing felt like bit of a failure. Tyr had sent him here, the Deep Wardens had given him their trust, his entire life, years of training, his family name, all to get him to this place. This wretched city where the rain seemed to go on for days, where it was cold, the people were abrupt or outride rude, and the streets were packed. In this place he and his ally Sickle had spent three days "trusting their fate" to whatever came their way. Sickle had finally convinced him, "Let's just get us a job, see where it takes us, maybe that's fate."
The paper in his hands seemed like a betrayal. It seemed all the more since they'd had a heck of a time finding Seaside Row. They'd found Seaside street, Seaside alley, and Seaside avenue, but no damned Seaside Row. This entire city was next to the sea for Tyr's sake. Sickle tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed down the street to a sign that read, "Sea Ward". "There we go, that should get us closer." Nodding tersely, he set out with Sickle close behind.
It was perhaps a soaked, drenched, wet, and otherwise thoroughly frigid hour later when they arrived outside of the mansion at 435 Seaside Row. A rap on the door and a muscle bound bouncer in a suit appeared at the door. The butler looked appraisingly at the two of them, "Can I help you?" Darak held out the paper.
"We are two brave and clever warriors who seek to..."
The butler interrupted, looking suddenly pleased, "Oh, excellent, right, come this way please."
He led the two of them in through a glorious entranceway, upon the floor which the dripped several large puddles worth of water, as he led them into a large sitting room complete with a wonderful view of the ocean, a large piano, several couches, and most importantly a large lit fireplace. A halfling and a cleric sit on a couch nearby chatting, as if they were ready to step into the opening line of a good joke. Both look over as Darak and Sickle enter the room.
The Butler makes a "hmmm" sound, then says, "A few more minutes please, then we will get started."
The four of you are left in the large, well lit, warm dry room with a wonderful view.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Kasaaptu watches from a thin walkway between two houses as the half-orc and human warrior both go into the property, heading inside after only a momentary exchange at the door.
Badger watches the Tiefling from down the street just inside a small furniture shop where he's been pretending to examine chair fabric for the past twenty minutes. He's grown rather partial to the plush velvety purple if he's being honest with himself. Though there's this golden colored leather which would probably hold up well and add a splash of color to any house. The salesman who has already approached twice peaks over at the gnome from around his desk, but then goes back to his....whatever boring and uninteresting thing that he may do with his life when he's not selling furniture. Badger momentarily wonders if this fabric choice is going to come back to haunt him, a vision of some velvety purple hell he may some day end up in.
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
Reaching up to stroke the velvet once more, Badger's hand knocks a small pouch tied at his waist, and 7 small bones of various shape fall onto the floor. Badger gasps in alarm as he glances at the pattern in which the fallen bones lay - the five-pointed star, the maiden, and (yet-again!) the sigil for the 'A' rune in Gnomish. Stooping to gather up the bones, he glances back again at the female tiefling lurking nearby - she must be the one! Scurrying hurriedly out of the store (to the storeman's dismay) into the drizzle, Badger approaches the tiefling and addresses her in his broken Common.
Urgh - excuse me! Is your name by any chance begin with the letter 'A'?
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Sir Darak Darkhall: A tall, grim-faced man with dark eyes and darker demeanor strides forward into the hall. He removes his drenched cloak as he steps toward the hearth to dry himself, firelight shimmering and dancing across his ornate chain mail armor. Emblazoned upon the chest-piece can be seen a black sword wreathed in flames - the family Crest of House Darkhall - marking this man as nobility. A Knight of the Realm.
Crouching to warm himself, the holy emblem of Tyr becomes visible upon the kite shield strapped across his broad back. Right-hand resting upon the hilt of his sheathed longsword, he stares into the flames as he stirs the fire with his left.
Not accustom to entering a room without his Marshal to announce him, Darak is not entirely sure the proper protocol in this sort of situation. He decides to remain silent as he awaits the other guests, wondering why the Squire, Marshal and Groom his Father dispatched have not arrived yet.
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Silas will introduce himself to the two newcomers "Hello. I am SIlas, a cleric representing the Church of Torm. I hope you are good this day," He present his hand to both of them, giving both the same introduction. "If it does not trouble you too much, may I inquire of the events of which we are bringing brought together this day?"
Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls- Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against DemogorgonSilas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of AnnihilationDoneHaving observed several adventurers enter the house of Syndra and so far no sounds of death or battle, Kassaptu feels confident this is not a trap and prepares to stop skulking and knock on the door. When the small man approaches and asks if her name start with an "A".
She smiles warmly at the fellow and answers, " my name is Kassaptu. That starts with a K, unless a K is an A in your language, the answer is no."
"Now that you know my name, what would be yours? And would you like to head to the house across the road? There seems to be a party I have been fortuitously invited to and I dont want to miss out on any of the fun"
In her mind she wonders if this little man is another sign from her Patron, or is he just a random person asking a random question? Does the "A" he asked about have something to do with her Patron or this quest...
When Badger learns that the tiefling's name doesn't actually begin with A but does in fact include three As, his face lights up with delights as he feels that his prediction is true, and that he has encountered an agent of fate. He rubs his bulbous nose thoughtfully as he ruminates out loud, then responds to Kaspaatu:
Of course! The Rule of Three! The oracles have brought me to you, O Portentious One. Lead on and I will follow where destiny leads! You may call me 'Badger'...
As they walk together through the rain, Badger chats animatedly to Kaspaatu about how much he enjoys rain, not having experienced it in his Underworld home, and even though they don't have sun, he seems to take delight in the rain even more than the sun, perhaps because it reminds him of the subtle predictability of fate compared with the overt rhythm of the sun, and in fact had she heard the story about the sparrow and the albatross ....
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
The large half-orc walked into the sitting room and saw the occupants seated and talking together when they walked in. He too removed a soaked cloak and hung it by the fire to dry. Underneath, he was well dressed, or would have been if he wasn't soaked to the bone from the weather of the day. His fine clothes were muddy near the bottoms from extended travel. He looked to his companion for a moment, then when he showed no sign of taking the lead, he shook the cleric's hand and introduced them both. "Well met, travelers. I am Sickle of House Thundersar, of Mirabar. This is my companion, Sir Darak Darkhall. We came together to Waterdeep, each for his own, but are following this particular strand of fate wherever it may lead...which for now appears to be here. There was talk of need for brave and clever warriors...is it you who is in need?" When he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly, but surprisingly genteel. He spoke slowly and clearly, and his demeanor exhibited calm.
Silas will look up and down the half orc before speaking "I believe we are of the same stock int his regard. We were all summoned here but our host has yet to appear. If she is one in need or know who is need is unknown to myself. As the steward has said, she should be here in a few minutes,"
Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls- Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against DemogorgonSilas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of AnnihilationDoneBadger and Kasaaptu arrive at the door just as the verbose gnome is about to really get into the details of the albatross' motivations. Kasaaptu knocks on the door, using the large brass door knocker. A thick necked well dressed butler appears at the door a few moments later, looking out into the cold and wet, scrunching his nose in a displeased manner as he looks down upon the two travellers. You can tell his instinct is to just shut the door, as he hand clenches on the door frame for a moment, but he manages to resist, and, almost with rolling eyes, says, "Yes? Can I...ahem...help you?"
Badger immediately sets out into a story about the Fates, the five pointed star and the maiden, which results in an almost immediately sigh of regret from the beset butler.
He interrupts Badger a few moments later, "Alright, alright, fine, you're here to help, great...please, come in."
The warm, large study, with fantastic views of the grey ocean below waterdeeps cliffs, sporting a blazing fire that is rapidly drying some damp cloaks, a silent piano, and now six people as a small gnome and a hooded tiefling enter the room. The butler says, "I will return momentarily with the master of the house. Please take a seat."
With little time except for brief introductions, names are passed around before a wheeled wooden chair being pushed by the butler comes into the room. In the chair is an old, somewhat feeble looking half-elf woman. Her hair is golden, but has that stringy look that comes with age, her eyes that were once blue are now more grey. She is wrapped in a thick blanket.
She is rolled near the fire, and facing all six of the people in the room. Her eyes betray an intelligence and energy that is missing from her ailing body as they dance from individual face to face. At last she sighs heavily, and then makes eye contact with the halfling in the room. When she speaks, her voice is dry and crackling, "You must be Balinda's son. I see her face in you. How is your mother? I hope she is well after all of these years." She turns her attention to the larger group, "Thank you all for coming. I do not recognize any of the rest of your faces, though I do recognize the symbol of Torm, and I appreciate the church's support in this manner." As she speaks, her Butler has returned with a tray of fine glass flutes and a large decanter of red wine. He places it on a low table in the middle of the group. "Help yourselves to wine friends. I hope I may call you that. My name is Syndra Silvane. I was an adventurer years ago, along with your mother Balinda." She nods to the halfling.
Barty, you lose yourself in trying to imagine your mother, the book keeper as an adventurer and you fail completely.
Syndra continues, "During my adventurer, I was killed. My allies were able to pull my spirit back from afterlife and bring me back to this world. I was raised from the dead. However, there has been a mysterious curse befalling those across the world who have ever been revived from death, and it is killing us all. This death curse as people are calling it has struck me. I do not know how much longer before I will perish." She motions to the priest of Torm, "The clerics have been just as stymied and unable to help as anyone. I do have contacts from my adventuring days, in the Harpers, and they have learned that the cause of this death curse is a necromatic artifact called the 'Soulmonger'. A terrible sounding name indeed. According to some of their sources, they believe this Soulmonger is somewhere far away in the distant jungles of Chult. I have called in favors, and old friends, to assemble a group of brave adventurers to attempt to find and stop this Soulmonger." She pauses, scanning the faces of the strangers in front of her. "If you are not interested, leave now. Otherwise, please, tell me your names, and ask your questions."
What's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorcerer?
Class.
"I am Silas from the temple of Torm from afar. My teacher, whom I owe my life, has fallen ill and given what you say, is under the same curse as you. I only have one question, when we do leave?" Silas stands at attention holding the holy symbol around his necklace.
Kirin - Level 15 High Elf Wizard (Evocation) - Zorg's Lost Souls- Overchannel Steel Wind Strike for the Win against DemogorgonSilas - Level 11 Human Cleric (War Domain) - Tomb of AnnihilationDone