In your small town of Forchence. There is a myth that is whispered in hushed tones and locked rooms, a legend of a long lost people that was much more advanced, these people are simply known in these tales as the Wayfolk. The few ruins that have been found of this long-lost creed have been found, or have been told by boasters and brigands, to have been desolate excluding cryptic runes and odd contraptions too cryptic in nature to be recognized to the untrained eye as anything but nonsense. But you are no 'Untrained Eye', you have been grabbing these few tendrils of knowledge and a few interested parties have taken notice...
***
Hey everyone! Nice to meet yall. I have been putting together ideas in my head for a campaign for pretty much ever since I've started playing dnd, but I'm in an area where people don't really do that kinda stuff and I am too socially awkward to be an online DM, so I've decided to try to make a PbP work.
I'm looking for up to 5 players to play in here. I'm expecting people to post once a day at least. Life might get complicated, so if you need a small break, let me know and I'll do what I can.
PM me if you're interested with a character idea, your timezone and what bit knowledge you've gathered about the Wayfolk, this part is up to you. Did you hear from your neighbor in a tavern one night that these folk made a special alloy harder than anything known to the current iteration of man? Was the mayor talking one evening to his attendant about how they had a grandiose city filled with riches beyond your wildest belief? Have fun with it! If you have any questions or concerns, PM them my way.
Can't wait to get started with yall. Lets have a great new decade.
Sitting to one side in the tavern, the warforge the locals know as Builder, is listening to the talk. He does not need to eat or drink, but still pays for food, which he gives to one of the locals, so that Builder doesn't feel he is taking up a valuable seat in the tavern. He heard talk a few days back about a strange ship a dwarf saw in his travels, and is listening to see if any more such talk comes up. There is a book open on the table in front of him, with various ship designs shown in its pages, but Builder has given up there, the book only has the same old stuff he already knows. What he seeks is not going to be found in a book.
You are all in the Black Dragon Tavern located in the center of Forchence, A port city on the south coast Loor. You've been all accustomed to the tavern and Forchence as a whole for at least a year. You might not know each other, but you know the company that you'd usually find in the tavern, Like the barkeeper Bubble, a 26 year old Kenku who smells strongly of tobacco, even though he says he's never smoked.Or Destrian, the new waiter half-elf who is a very nice, but big pushover. You love it here, it's a great little spot with interesting people and great drinks and food. The ambiance seems.... different tonight as you sit inside; Instead of happily chatting everyone seems to be focusing on their drinks. Instead of Bubble's usual demeanor he's being awfully rude. You don't know what the reason is, if at all. However, you're still with your normal attitude, for you just found some new drinking buddies!
Sitting to one side in the tavern, the warforge the locals know as Builder, is listening to the talk. He does not need to eat or drink, but still pays for food, which he gives to one of the locals, so that Builder doesn't feel he is taking up a valuable seat in the tavern. He heard talk a few days back about a strange ship a dwarf saw in his travels, and is listening to see if any more such talk comes up. There is a book open on the table in front of him, with various ship designs shown in its pages, but Builder has given up there, the book only has the same old stuff he already knows. What he seeks is not going to be found in a book.
He has noticed the change in the normal crowd's attitude today though and has been mulling over why they are so cranky today. It is hard to tell with humans, and other non-constructed, beings, but he knows this is not usual for them regardless. A few new faces have shown up as well, so Builder moves over to sit near them, to see if they have any new stories he has not heard as of yet. He mostly listens as those around talk and drink.
A young Half elf, with a stylish spiked haircut, and leather armour with strange purple sigils inscribed into it, welcomes the warforged. "Greetings old one, the names Zachary, I've been fishing round these parts for a while, and know my way around a boat, any idea what's up with everyone tonight? Even Bubbles in a foul mood!"
"Aye," concurs a deep voice a table over. A lone dwarf, grim and bald, gets up from his seat and walks over to the table. Iovanus, or Io, is a gritty former sergeant in the army, he sports a fine long beard and arms fit to break an ox's neck. "Truth is, it's all gone to horse dung. Fishing, huh? What'cha catch out here in a place like this, other than what'cha not s'posed to?!" The sound of Io's baritone guffaws echo in the bar, causing a few to glance his way. This display makes it clear he thinks he much funnier than he is. "Name's Iovanus, you can call me Io."
At the same table sits an aven, eating in silence from a bowl of berries and small fish. The torches cast unusual reflections on the blue hues of his plumage, and his gear - along with some ruffled feathers - betrays an explorer just back from an adventure.
As Io walks near the aven raises his head, measuring the loud newcomer, and the angles of his beak curl up in a smirk. "Now, now, he isn't going to catch anything if you shout all the fish away!", he starts off. Then, in a single movement, he picks up a pilchard in his beak and swallows it whole. "...And that would be awful for me", he chirps, winking at the gnome.
"But hey, come and join us for a drink, so we can talk about fish and ships and horse dung. You don't mind, yeah?," he hastily adds, turning to the other two with the faintest note of apprehension in his voice. Finding no opposition, he starts moving his chair to make room for Io. "And by the way, I'm Urreek, but people around here call me Mockingbird. Well met, all of you!"
"I am called Builder." Builder says as he nods to the group. "No, I am unaware of what has everyone here in a cranky mood today." He says, his voice a monotone.
Io nods to the motley crew and plops down, drink in hand. "Well met, all of you." Taking a big gulp of ale, Io gestures towards the familiar barkeep, Bubbles. "I wonder what's got him percolatin'? I'd ask him meself, but I ain't one what's much for talkin' though, unless it's talkin' with me axe!" Looking suddenly sheepish, Io adds: "And he ain't be liking me too much after I chopped his table last week but that ain't was me fault!"
Suddenly embarrassed, Io brings his mug to his face, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone he remembers from that night sees him. He realizes that he doesn't remember much from that night and continues to empty his mug.
Urreek laughs, a cackling sound from his beak. "So that was you! You sure did a number on that poor piece of furniture." He smirks again. "Spare this one, at least while we're eating on it, will you?"
The aven swoops up the last pieces of food from his bowl, then looks at the others. "Well, it seems we're all in the dark and itching to know here, so let's find out. I was just about to get a refill, anyway." After a discrete glance to his side he extends his right wing, much as anyone would raise a hand, to catch the barmaid's attention.
"Aye, aye...t'was me," Io admits. "An'a good idea too 'bout askin' though I ain't one to do any yappin'. Now, if yer after axein' and punchin' then I be yer dwarf!" Again, the dwarf's hearty laughter rings throughout The Black Dragon. He finishes off the foamy remnants of his beverage, most of which now reside on his beard, and pulls the hood of his cloak over his bald pate as Urreek gestures for the barmaid.
Turning to the taciturn dwarf "Hah, well I'm sure my da had a hand in those fish that Mockingbird is eating, Fished these waters since I was a lad. It is funny what you can catch around these parts though, all manner of tales to be found I've heard."
He looks around to the others at the two tables, and orders a beer before turning to the warforged, "Say builder anything interesting in your books today?"
"Nothing new." Builder says with a shake of his head. He does not say more, his eyes scanning the group. He slips his book into a pocket as he hears about the damage to the table the previous evening.
The aven swoops up the last pieces of food from his bowl, then looks at the others. "Well, it seems we're all in the dark and itching to know here, so let's find out. I was just about to get a refill, anyway." After a discrete glance to his side he extends his right wing, much as anyone would raise a hand, to catch the barmaid's attention.
Destrian walks out of the back, Beers in hand and walks over to the table. "Sorry 'bout the wait, Bubble's been tellin' me off." he sets the drinks down on the table, one in front of each of you. "Can I do anything else for you lads? Need a refill? Some more food? Sorry 'bout the mood. I think it's 'cause o' her." He sheepishly points to a woman in what could only be described as an outfit that Clint Faewood would wear in one of his many "Western" films. She gestures to Destrian and he moves towards her shakily. after they talk a bit in hushed tones, he comes back. "So, can I get a-anythin' for you?"
In your small town of Forchence. There is a myth that is whispered in hushed tones and locked rooms, a legend of a long lost people that was much more advanced, these people are simply known in these tales as the Wayfolk. The few ruins that have been found of this long-lost creed have been found, or have been told by boasters and brigands, to have been desolate excluding cryptic runes and odd contraptions too cryptic in nature to be recognized to the untrained eye as anything but nonsense. But you are no 'Untrained Eye', you have been grabbing these few tendrils of knowledge and a few interested parties have taken notice...
***
Hey everyone! Nice to meet yall. I have been putting together ideas in my head for a campaign for pretty much ever since I've started playing dnd, but I'm in an area where people don't really do that kinda stuff and I am too socially awkward to be an online DM, so I've decided to try to make a PbP work.
I'm looking for up to 5 players to play in here. I'm expecting people to post once a day at least. Life might get complicated, so if you need a small break, let me know and I'll do what I can.
PM me if you're interested with a character idea, your timezone and what bit knowledge you've gathered about the Wayfolk, this part is up to you. Did you hear from your neighbor in a tavern one night that these folk made a special alloy harder than anything known to the current iteration of man? Was the mayor talking one evening to his attendant about how they had a grandiose city filled with riches beyond your wildest belief? Have fun with it! If you have any questions or concerns, PM them my way.
Can't wait to get started with yall. Lets have a great new decade.
Cool, I'm interested. Sent you a PM.
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
https://ddb.ac/campaigns/join/8037103482362645 Campaign link for the chars.
Sitting to one side in the tavern, the warforge the locals know as Builder, is listening to the talk. He does not need to eat or drink, but still pays for food, which he gives to one of the locals, so that Builder doesn't feel he is taking up a valuable seat in the tavern. He heard talk a few days back about a strange ship a dwarf saw in his travels, and is listening to see if any more such talk comes up. There is a book open on the table in front of him, with various ship designs shown in its pages, but Builder has given up there, the book only has the same old stuff he already knows. What he seeks is not going to be found in a book.
Here :)
Here!
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Here
You are all in the Black Dragon Tavern located in the center of Forchence, A port city on the south coast Loor. You've been all accustomed to the tavern and Forchence as a whole for at least a year. You might not know each other, but you know the company that you'd usually find in the tavern, Like the barkeeper Bubble, a 26 year old Kenku who smells strongly of tobacco, even though he says he's never smoked.Or Destrian, the new waiter half-elf who is a very nice, but big pushover. You love it here, it's a great little spot with interesting people and great drinks and food. The ambiance seems.... different tonight as you sit inside; Instead of happily chatting everyone seems to be focusing on their drinks. Instead of Bubble's usual demeanor he's being awfully rude. You don't know what the reason is, if at all. However, you're still with your normal attitude, for you just found some new drinking buddies!
****
Please all introduce yourself.
He has noticed the change in the normal crowd's attitude today though and has been mulling over why they are so cranky today. It is hard to tell with humans, and other non-constructed, beings, but he knows this is not usual for them regardless. A few new faces have shown up as well, so Builder moves over to sit near them, to see if they have any new stories he has not heard as of yet. He mostly listens as those around talk and drink.
A young Half elf, with a stylish spiked haircut, and leather armour with strange purple sigils inscribed into it, welcomes the warforged. "Greetings old one, the names Zachary, I've been fishing round these parts for a while, and know my way around a boat, any idea what's up with everyone tonight? Even Bubbles in a foul mood!"
"Aye," concurs a deep voice a table over. A lone dwarf, grim and bald, gets up from his seat and walks over to the table. Iovanus, or Io, is a gritty former sergeant in the army, he sports a fine long beard and arms fit to break an ox's neck. "Truth is, it's all gone to horse dung. Fishing, huh? What'cha catch out here in a place like this, other than what'cha not s'posed to?!" The sound of Io's baritone guffaws echo in the bar, causing a few to glance his way. This display makes it clear he thinks he much funnier than he is. "Name's Iovanus, you can call me Io."
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
At the same table sits an aven, eating in silence from a bowl of berries and small fish. The torches cast unusual reflections on the blue hues of his plumage, and his gear - along with some ruffled feathers - betrays an explorer just back from an adventure.
As Io walks near the aven raises his head, measuring the loud newcomer, and the angles of his beak curl up in a smirk. "Now, now, he isn't going to catch anything if you shout all the fish away!", he starts off. Then, in a single movement, he picks up a pilchard in his beak and swallows it whole. "...And that would be awful for me", he chirps, winking at the gnome.
"But hey, come and join us for a drink, so we can talk about fish and ships and horse dung. You don't mind, yeah?," he hastily adds, turning to the other two with the faintest note of apprehension in his voice. Finding no opposition, he starts moving his chair to make room for Io. "And by the way, I'm Urreek, but people around here call me Mockingbird. Well met, all of you!"
"I am called Builder." Builder says as he nods to the group. "No, I am unaware of what has everyone here in a cranky mood today." He says, his voice a monotone.
Io nods to the motley crew and plops down, drink in hand. "Well met, all of you." Taking a big gulp of ale, Io gestures towards the familiar barkeep, Bubbles. "I wonder what's got him percolatin'? I'd ask him meself, but I ain't one what's much for talkin' though, unless it's talkin' with me axe!" Looking suddenly sheepish, Io adds: "And he ain't be liking me too much after I chopped his table last week but that ain't was me fault!"
Suddenly embarrassed, Io brings his mug to his face, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone he remembers from that night sees him. He realizes that he doesn't remember much from that night and continues to empty his mug.
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Urreek laughs, a cackling sound from his beak. "So that was you! You sure did a number on that poor piece of furniture." He smirks again. "Spare this one, at least while we're eating on it, will you?"
The aven swoops up the last pieces of food from his bowl, then looks at the others. "Well, it seems we're all in the dark and itching to know here, so let's find out. I was just about to get a refill, anyway." After a discrete glance to his side he extends his right wing, much as anyone would raise a hand, to catch the barmaid's attention.
"Aye, aye...t'was me," Io admits. "An'a good idea too 'bout askin' though I ain't one to do any yappin'. Now, if yer after axein' and punchin' then I be yer dwarf!" Again, the dwarf's hearty laughter rings throughout The Black Dragon. He finishes off the foamy remnants of his beverage, most of which now reside on his beard, and pulls the hood of his cloak over his bald pate as Urreek gestures for the barmaid.
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Turning to the taciturn dwarf "Hah, well I'm sure my da had a hand in those fish that Mockingbird is eating, Fished these waters since I was a lad. It is funny what you can catch around these parts though, all manner of tales to be found I've heard."
He looks around to the others at the two tables, and orders a beer before turning to the warforged, "Say builder anything interesting in your books today?"
"Nothing new." Builder says with a shake of his head. He does not say more, his eyes scanning the group. He slips his book into a pocket as he hears about the damage to the table the previous evening.
Destrian walks out of the back, Beers in hand and walks over to the table. "Sorry 'bout the wait, Bubble's been tellin' me off." he sets the drinks down on the table, one in front of each of you. "Can I do anything else for you lads? Need a refill? Some more food? Sorry 'bout the mood. I think it's 'cause o' her." He sheepishly points to a woman in what could only be described as an outfit that Clint Faewood would wear in one of his many "Western" films. She gestures to Destrian and he moves towards her shakily. after they talk a bit in hushed tones, he comes back. "So, can I get a-anythin' for you?"
"Thanks for the beer Destrian, so what can you tell us about this mystery lady? I dont recall seeing her round here before..."