The lands of Allansia are rife with danger, but there are plenty of rewards for adventurers willing to take the risks and face the evils that threaten to plunge the lands and lives of decent folk into darkness. Most days pass by without incident and people go about their affairs peacefully, but some days are dangerous and can change lives forever.
Today is one of those dangerous days.
The village of Hulf is located in the southern foothills of the Moonstone Hills, where the Trolltooth Pass meets the Windward Plains.
Hulf has seen it’s fair share of danger as the Trolltooth Pass is regularly overrun by Orcs and Goblins and these folk sometimes create problems for the small settlement. It is here, after a few days of travel, that you have decided to rest following your travels across Allansia.
Hulf is a small village surrounded by farms, and the thick stone walls are high and incredibly well built (a gift from the King of Salamonis to the south for his failure to control the evil creatures running amok in the pass) so there is a feeling of security as you enjoy the hospitality of the friendly denizens.
Hulf is not large and in the few days you have spent here, you have come to know each other....some in passing...some rather better...rested from your travels some of you are considering moving on to greener pastures.
That is, until this morning when three riders come barrelling through the gates. Their horses are wild-eyed and covered with foam and dirt, the riders themselves smeared with grime from their hard travels. The lead rider is a white-haired woman with a flowing cloak and intricate robes, and has the look of a spellcaster. The other two are soldiers in rusted chainmail, sporting spears topped with pennants that snap in the wind, emblazoned with the symbol of the town of Chalice to the west. One of them is injured, his right arm in a blood-stained sling, his face pale and drawn. Villagers come out to greet them and to see what the fuss is about.
The white-haired woman stares around the confused people whilst the soldiers stare into the sky.
“I am Girior of Chalice! Have you seen it?” the woman cries out. “Have you seen the dungeon?”
Dungeon? What Dungeon? Calls a shady looking human. Dressed in all black, face covered in a hood, hand resting on a sword hilt. A powerful looking bow rests at his side, two hand axes are strapped to his belt, and a large ax hangs from his back.
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Five percent of the people think; ten percent of the people think they think; and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think.
An intelligent man believes only half of what he hears, a wise man knows which half. (Even Esar)
Don't wait for the perfect moment to strike, strike in the current moment and make it perfect. (William Yeats)
STATUS: Personal Problems, will not be active for a few days.
A fairly well-muscled gnome steps forward, wearing scale mail and holding a spear in his hand. He has a crossbow belted at his waist, and a handaxe opposite it. "What is this dungeon you speak of?" He asks with interest.
The hooded human, half-demon healer and the brawny gnome come forward even as villagers and other travellers emerge from the dwellings to regard the travel-worn trio.
Girior nods her thanks to Hatch then turns to answer the human and gnome.
“‘ My fellow Wizards of Chalice have scryed a terrible thing; a huge floating hunk of dirt and stone that contains the dungeon of Varrak Aslur! Varrak is a long-dead wizard, vanquished by Justian the Golden a hundred years ago before he was able to raise an undead army to take control of the Moonstone Hills, and thus possibly all the realms of Allansia!"
"His castle stronghold was burned down and was a place where nobody dares to venture, other than those daring enough to venture in, looking for treasure or dark knowledge. The last we heard of the place, a band of Orcs had set up residence there, but with the number of monsters roaming the Trolltooth Pass it was of no great importance."
" But my brother wizards, while scrying for threats to the peace and safety of Chalice and the surrounding lands, saw the dungeon rising from the earth, casting off the ruins of Varrak’s castle and begin a journey through the air towards Chalice! Ten soldiers and I were despatched to find out if the visions were true."
" We’re all that’s left of that group."
" We rode hard and spied the dungeon just to the east of here. What a terrible sight to behold! A huge chunk of the land drifting through the sky, with dirt and trees and all kinds of undead creatures falling from it. We managed to get some grappling hooks and ropes into it but we couldn’t get up. The creatures that tumbled from it fought us and we barely got away, but we lost it in the fog and rode hard to get here and we think we’re ahead of it but we’re not sure."
" We need to get into it and find a way to stop it before it delivers more evil across the lands, and our wizards have already seen the possible terror it will deliver upon Chalice!"
"We are injured and exhausted; if anyone can help us you will be richly rewarded. We can hold off the undead on the ground that are following this floating death and help you get into the dungeon and find a way to stop it before it spreads it’s evil onto Chalice, and maybe even beyond!"
" Our numbers are depleted, will any of you here lend aid?’”
A small halfling in weathered clothing approaches the crowd attempting to see what the commotion is all about. "What be all the excitement about, friends?" , he asks in a deep voice.
"I'll lend my axes to the cause," Hatch volunteered, gripping tight the weapons strapped to his sides. His countenance had turned grim at the mention of the undead. It was not something he wanted to see spread.
Rufus, the diminutive halfling cinches his belt a little tighter & adjusts his gear upon his back as he says, "You had me at reward, friend. I shall venture into the storm with ye."
The tall slender elf who you've all come to know over the last few days as "Tom" listens intently to the woman speak.
"Wow... to be honest Ma'am, I left home looking for adventure and well this sounds like quite the adventure indeed. Seems I will need to see this with my own eyes to believe you though... I hope you don't mind me sayin' so."
Tom looks at his comrades, especially the ones looking the most eager to go. "Well gents (are we an all male party?), looks like we have a solid team to go do this!"
Tom can barely contain his excitement for this adventure... albeit a bit naive as to what actually might be ahead for him and the others.
In the crowd a figure begins to approach as he removes his hood, the sun gleaming off of his brass scales. The scars running up his neck are a testament to the fights that he been in. He just looks at the figure on the horse as he speaks up "Aye, I'll help ya. If you'll take a Lizardine."
Girior raised her eyebrows, " I have only heard tales of your kind in ancient scrolls."
She looked about herself, " Small folk, beings of legend, strong men, an elf and an....interesting heritage......yes. I think so."
She pulled out a half dozen small rubies and pressed one into each hand, " You should get 30 gold for each at any respectable dealer, and you can keep what ever you find in that charnel pit."
Suddenly a cry goes up from the wall. ‘Great Titan’s Teeth!’ an elderly watchman shouts. ‘There it is!’
People rush to the walls and the gates to see the floating chunk of stone and earth emerging from the low fog hovering over the Moonstone Hills. Great clumps of dirt, rocks and the shadows of creatures fall from it and land heavily on the ground, and half a dozen ropes trail from a hole underneath it. Below it, walking in the shadow of this monstrous vision, are shambling figures. Although it doesn’t appear to be on a course that will bring it over the village, it will pass dangerously close.
‘Let’s go!’ cries Girior, ‘We will hold them off on the ground as best we can and you get up there!’”
Girior wheels her horse and spurs her it on and the soldiers, tired and injured as they are, follow her out of the gate at speed...
holy shit... this lady wasn't kidding... Tom thinks to himself as he looks to the rest of the party, a bit frantically.
"Guys look at that thing!! You heard the lady, let's go find a way inside that floating ball of hell!
Tom is now already running after Girior and the soldiers, looking to stay off to the side in cover, so he can get a better idea of how many undead etc. have dropped from this huge floating piece of earth, as well as how many ropes might be hanging from it, how sturdy they look, etc. He is running with his longbow drawn.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Connar call out as he begins toward the unearthly dirt. "There better be a wealthy sum involved, I'm not wasting my talents for free!" He picks up his longbow, slips it over his shoulders, and runs headlong towards it, headless of any danger.
Connar quickly scans the ropes for the safest one: 21 Perception.
Rufus Raindancer leaps off the barrel he was perched upon to better review the crowded area. He deftly conceals the ruby & moves to follow her and the remaining soldiers towards the floating dungeon & the shambling hordes underneath it.
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The lands of Allansia are rife with danger, but there are
plenty of rewards for adventurers willing to take the risks
and face the evils that threaten to plunge the lands and lives
of decent folk into darkness. Most days pass by without
incident and people go about their affairs peacefully, but
some days are dangerous and can change lives forever.
Today is one of those dangerous days.
The village of Hulf is located in the southern foothills of the
Moonstone Hills, where the Trolltooth Pass meets the
Windward Plains.
Hulf has seen it’s fair share of danger as
the Trolltooth Pass is regularly overrun by Orcs and Goblins
and these folk sometimes create problems for the small
settlement. It is here, after a few days of travel, that you have
decided to rest following your travels across Allansia.
Hulf is a small village surrounded by farms, and the thick stone walls are high and incredibly well built (a gift from the King of Salamonis to the south for his failure to control the evil creatures running amok in the pass) so there is a feeling of security as you enjoy the hospitality of the friendly denizens.
Hulf is not large and in the few days you have spent here, you have come to know each other....some in passing...some rather better...rested from your travels some of you are considering moving on to greener pastures.
That is, until this morning when three riders come barrelling through the gates. Their horses are wild-eyed and covered with foam and dirt, the riders themselves smeared with grime from their hard travels. The lead rider is a white-haired woman with a flowing cloak and intricate robes, and has the look of a spellcaster. The other two are soldiers in rusted chainmail, sporting spears topped with pennants that snap in the wind, emblazoned with the symbol of the town of Chalice to the west. One of them is injured, his right arm in a blood-stained sling, his face pale and drawn. Villagers come out to greet them and to see what the fuss is about.
The white-haired woman stares around the confused people whilst the soldiers stare into the sky.
“I am Girior of Chalice! Have you seen it?” the woman cries out. “Have you seen the dungeon?”
Dungeon? What Dungeon? Calls a shady looking human. Dressed in all black, face covered in a hood, hand resting on a sword hilt. A powerful looking bow rests at his side, two hand axes are strapped to his belt, and a large ax hangs from his back.
Five percent of the people think; ten percent of the people think they think; and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think.
An intelligent man believes only half of what he hears, a wise man knows which half. (Even Esar)
Don't wait for the perfect moment to strike, strike in the current moment and make it perfect. (William Yeats)
STATUS: Personal Problems, will not be active for a few days.
Extended Signature
Hatch approaches the three riders, cautiously. "I've not seen this dungeon, but one of your men is hurt. May I try to aid him?" he asked.
(How does a paladin go about Lay on Hands/whatever for healing RP-wise here?)
OOC: Theres healing magics and clerics in Allansia, they wont be suprised.
A fairly well-muscled gnome steps forward, wearing scale mail and holding a spear in his hand. He has a crossbow belted at his waist, and a handaxe opposite it. "What is this dungeon you speak of?" He asks with interest.
Hatch performs Lay on Hands on the injured rider.
The mans arm seems to come good as the warm energies flow into it he smiles and nods at you in thanks.
OOC: I've marked the usage on your sheet.
The hooded human, half-demon healer and the brawny gnome come forward even as villagers and other travellers emerge from the dwellings to regard the travel-worn trio.
Girior nods her thanks to Hatch then turns to answer the human and gnome.
“‘ My fellow Wizards of Chalice have scryed a terrible thing; a huge floating hunk of dirt and stone that contains the dungeon of Varrak Aslur! Varrak is a long-dead wizard, vanquished by Justian the Golden a hundred years ago before he was able to raise an undead army to take control of the Moonstone Hills, and thus possibly all the realms of Allansia!"
"His castle stronghold was burned down and was a place where nobody dares to venture, other than those daring enough to venture in, looking for treasure or dark knowledge. The last we heard of the place, a band of Orcs had set up residence there, but with the number of monsters roaming the Trolltooth Pass it was of no great importance."
" But my brother wizards, while scrying for threats to the peace and safety of Chalice and the surrounding lands, saw the dungeon rising from the earth, casting off the ruins of Varrak’s castle and begin a journey through the air towards Chalice! Ten soldiers and I were despatched to find out if the visions were true."
" We’re all that’s left of that group."
" We rode hard and spied the dungeon just to the east of here. What a terrible sight to behold! A huge chunk of the land drifting through the sky, with dirt and trees and all kinds of undead
creatures falling from it. We managed to get some grappling hooks and ropes into it but we couldn’t get up. The creatures that tumbled from it fought us and
we barely got away, but we lost it in the fog and rode hard to get here and we think we’re ahead of it but we’re not sure."
" We need to get into it and find a way to stop it before it delivers more evil across the lands, and our wizards have already seen the possible terror it will deliver upon Chalice!"
"We are injured and exhausted; if anyone can help us you will be richly rewarded. We can hold off the undead on the ground that are following this floating death and help you get into the dungeon and find a way to stop it before it spreads it’s evil onto Chalice, and maybe even beyond!"
" Our numbers are depleted, will any of you here lend aid?’”
"I'll lend my axes to the cause," Hatch volunteered, gripping tight the weapons strapped to his sides. His countenance had turned grim at the mention of the undead. It was not something he wanted to see spread.
Rufus, the diminutive halfling cinches his belt a little tighter & adjusts his gear upon his back as he says, "You had me at reward, friend. I shall venture into the storm with ye."
A number of the braver villagers come forward but shy away when they hear Girior speak of undead.
"I will aid you." The gnome says. "I am Brocc, and my spear will be used in this cause."
The tall slender elf who you've all come to know over the last few days as "Tom" listens intently to the woman speak.
"Wow... to be honest Ma'am, I left home looking for adventure and well this sounds like quite the adventure indeed. Seems I will need to see this with my own eyes to believe you though... I hope you don't mind me sayin' so."
Tom looks at his comrades, especially the ones looking the most eager to go. "Well gents (are we an all male party?), looks like we have a solid team to go do this!"
Tom can barely contain his excitement for this adventure... albeit a bit naive as to what actually might be ahead for him and the others.
In the crowd a figure begins to approach as he removes his hood, the sun gleaming off of his brass scales. The scars running up his neck are a testament to the fights that he been in. He just looks at the figure on the horse as he speaks up "Aye, I'll help ya. If you'll take a Lizardine."
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
Girior raised her eyebrows, " I have only heard tales of your kind in ancient scrolls."
She looked about herself, " Small folk, beings of legend, strong men, an elf and an....interesting heritage......yes. I think so."
She pulled out a half dozen small rubies and pressed one into each hand, " You should get 30 gold for each at any respectable dealer, and you can keep what ever you find in that charnel pit."
Suddenly a cry goes up from the wall. ‘Great Titan’s Teeth!’ an elderly watchman shouts. ‘There it is!’
People rush to the walls and the gates to see the floating chunk of stone and earth emerging from the low fog hovering over the Moonstone Hills. Great clumps of dirt, rocks and the shadows of creatures fall from it and land heavily on the ground, and half a dozen ropes trail from a hole underneath it. Below it, walking in the shadow of this monstrous vision, are shambling figures. Although it doesn’t appear to be on a course that will bring it over the village, it will pass dangerously close.
‘Let’s go!’ cries Girior, ‘We will hold them off on the ground as best we can and you get up there!’”
Girior wheels her horse and spurs her it on and the soldiers, tired and injured as they are, follow her out of the gate at speed...
holy shit... this lady wasn't kidding... Tom thinks to himself as he looks to the rest of the party, a bit frantically.
"Guys look at that thing!! You heard the lady, let's go find a way inside that floating ball of hell!
Tom is now already running after Girior and the soldiers, looking to stay off to the side in cover, so he can get a better idea of how many undead etc. have dropped from this huge floating piece of earth, as well as how many ropes might be hanging from it, how sturdy they look, etc. He is running with his longbow drawn.
Perception 7
Brocc nods to the others and follows after.
Connar call out as he begins toward the unearthly dirt. "There better be a wealthy sum involved, I'm not wasting my talents for free!" He picks up his longbow, slips it over his shoulders, and runs headlong towards it, headless of any danger.
Connar quickly scans the ropes for the safest one: 21 Perception.
(OOC: Not bad for my first roll.)
Five percent of the people think; ten percent of the people think they think; and the other eighty-five percent would rather die than think.
An intelligent man believes only half of what he hears, a wise man knows which half. (Even Esar)
Don't wait for the perfect moment to strike, strike in the current moment and make it perfect. (William Yeats)
STATUS: Personal Problems, will not be active for a few days.
Extended Signature
Rufus Raindancer leaps off the barrel he was perched upon to better review the crowded area. He deftly conceals the ruby & moves to follow her and the remaining soldiers towards the floating dungeon & the shambling hordes underneath it.