After recieving an odd letter from a courier in the city of Asarius, our party makes their way to the uncharted town of Galgarad at the plea of a desperate goliath. The letter leads the group to the southern point of the wastes, near a pair of hills just north of the Seepfeed River and the western edge of the Vermaloc Wildwood. The journey goes along peacefully, the days passing by without any trouble. It takes about 5 days to reach the town, with the party arriving at sunrise on the 6th day.
As they approach the town, they see a run-down burgh that has seen better days. Crumbling stone walls and parapets surround the town's rotting wooden houses. The people seem scared, flitting through streets as quickly as possible before hiding in their homes.
Meklit stands just above average height and has a rather stocky and square frame, looking more like a pillar in silhouette. Her skin was a ruddy brick color, and had the texture of bricks too. Her short pumice like black hair hung close to her face, puffing out at the bottom, by her jaw. A scar runs along the edge of her jaw, by her ear. Two earrings adorn her right ear, blue and black in color. Her clothes were light, but had several layers to them. A simple purple shirt and dark grey pants make up the first layer. Goggles rested around her neck. A dark purple coat with pale blue and grey trimming sat above it. Dark grey gloves covered her hands. A dark purple scarf like skirt was held up belt, which housed her few weapons, pouches, and magic rod. A bag sat slung over her shoulder, and a pair of padded leather boots finished off her outfit.
The woman looked around the town, brow furrowed as she took in their surroundings. She held onto her bag's straps, a hollow comfort. "A town doesn't end up this way overnight."
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Elethan "Hops" Moonhopper is an incredibly aged Wood Elf. He often walks with a hunch, leaning on his quarterstaff for support. The keen observer can easily see this is a ruse as he's in better shape than most soldiers. He stands about 5'4'' and wears modest, loose fitted, green commoner's clothing, tied with a makeshift belt made of hempen rope. He keeps his bronze and silvered hair in a short top-knot, but it's not particularly well-kept. The only items on his person are usually a small silvered flask, a favorite necklace, and his quarterstaff, worn and nicked by age and use. The rest of his belongings he keeps on his favorite mule: a brown donkey with a mellow temperament that he has confusingly named Hops.
"But if it did, it must have been one hell of a party, hey?"Hops nudges the bigger genasi and chuckles to himself. He fiddles with his flask, sloshing around the last few splashes of wine. As the party stops to view the town, he refills his flask from one of the various unmarked kegs carried by his pet mule. "What do you say we see what fine establishments this town has to offer?"
His normal positive cheer turns to a solemn stare as he begins to hobble towards the town, saddened by the downfall of yet another village.
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Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
Oloren towers at 7'8" and carries his 280 or so pound with a jolly trot during most of the travel into town, occasionally singing a happy tune in giant. His copper colored hair stand out in stark contrast to his bluish gray skin, but his most striking features are his bright green eyes. He wears dark brown studded leather armor with a shield and an unusual quarterstaff strapped to his back. His staff has winding vines and blossoms that grow out of it, and it even occasionally grows the odd berry, which Oloren promptly and excitedly eats whenever he notices one. From time to time he's even been seen to whisper to the flowers on his staff, sometimes chuckling to himself after doing so as though he had just told a joke we was particularly proud of. He also always has a sprig of magically preserved holly hanging from a cord around his neck. Whenever he needs to call on his druidic magic, he reaches for this sprig. Oloren jingles and jostles as he walks as his packs are filled with hundreds of pounds of adventuring gear. Oloren figures that if he's going to live the life of an adventurer, he had better carry the kit of one, at least until he completes his quest and makes his way back home to the Savalirwood. Then he can finally shed his burden, both physical and otherwise.
"This reminds me of the ruins of Molaesmyr back home. Something foul plagues this place." His eyes dart back and forth, checking every source of movement for potential threats.
Dimiter is a gangly combination of limbs and fur that hints that he's possibly not done growing yet -- or possibly it's just his over-long bugbear limbs. He's about 6'7", with lean ropy muscle mostly hidden under shaggy brown fur. He's attempting to grow a beard, but the only reason someone would know this is if he's told them, otherwise it's impossible to distinguish from his normal fur. His hair is swept away from his face in a low ponytail, and he's got a few closed-up piercings in one ear. He wears beaten-up dark studded leather armor, the shoulder looks like it used to have some sort of insignia, which has been removed, though this is mostly hidden underneath his traveling cloak. He has a symbol of the Luxon tucked haphazardly underneath it, and at each hip is a scimitar.
As they enter the town, he slips his book back into his pack and leans forward on his horse to look around for signs of violence, or makings in thieves' cant. "Looks like a lot of towns."
Felix Stormwind is quite short for a dragonborn, standing at 6'1", and quite slim for a dragonborn as well, a result of his many years of servitude to the family he has claimed to be part of. The first thing you notice about him is that he doesn't have a tail, unlike many dragonborn you would see. As you look into his icy blue eyes, you can feel a piercing chill. His silvery white scales seems to glimmer in the early morning sunlight. He wears a simple, loose-fitting white button-up shirt and tan cargo pants. Over this simple attire, he wears a suit of chain mail. Unlike some of his companions, Felix is more straightforward and serious, keeping a straight face, sheathed longsword at his hip and shield on his back. The rest of his belongings he keeps in his bag of holding -- "It comes in handy," he always says.
He glances around, awed at the ruins of the city, but also cautious. "Seeing these ruins makes me miss my old home," Felix remarks. "I have seen many a ruined city in my adventuring days." He looks at the people; they all seem afraid. "I feel sorry for them. Something awful must be going on here." He insists on getting to know the townsfolk. "I want to know whom I'm going to save before I save them."
As you all watch the town and discuss amongst yourselves, a young male drow bolts past you before skidding to a halt. He turns to look at you all with cautious eyes that slowly turn almost excited. "W-who are you people? H-have you come to help the town?!"
"As much as they need that patronage, we should wait until we have all our information." Meklit replied to Hops. Her attention turned to the drow, her dull metallic grey eyes reflecting some caution.
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Heh, hey there young fella. It depends on who's asking." Feigning the look of a senile old man, he hobbles up to the man and leans heavily on his staff. "Does this town need help anymore? From the looks of it, it might need a more than just help. Mind telling us what happened?"
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Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
"Yes, we have come to help the town," Felix reassures the young drow, "but we don't know why... or how." He reaches out his hand, in hopes that the drow shakes it, trying to look as non-violent as possible. "I am Felix Stormwind. You may have heard of my brother, Tiberius" -- he pauses to reflect for a few seconds. "We are a group of adventurers -- others may call us mercenaries, but I do not like that term -- sent here for an undisclosed reason. "
Oloren stiffens as he turns to look back the direction the drow came from, watching for some threat he may be running from. As he stiffens, his usual foul odor (light moldy bread and old leather books) grows a measure stronger as the spore cloud around him thickens slightly.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Oloren Perception: 12
The young drow looks incredibly relieved as the party confirms that they'd been sent to the town to help it. “Oh, thank the gods! We’ve been staving off an army of undead every night for the past week! The horde started small at first, but everyone who dies from the zombies rise as husks of their former selves and join them! The horde is huge now… I don’t think we’re going to survive the next attack...”
As Oloren looks to the direction the drow came from, he doesn't see anything that could be perceived as danger or a threat.
"PAH! Undead! Now there's a group that truly ruins things. You can usually find common ground and a drink with bandits and cultists and goblins, but those brainless shells don't give one much choice but to put them down." Hops stretches his back, assuming a more upright posture. "What's your name, kiddo? Why don't you show us what's left of this town and maybe we can prepare some fortifications before the next nightfall."
OOC: About what time is it?
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Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
"That would explain the state of the town." Meklit commented. She looked around them, assessing the town and what they could see of defenses. "I agree with Hops. Show us around, and you can answer some questions. So we can properly form a defense strategy."
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The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Do you have any dead within the city currently? I could prevent the curse of undeath from taking hold on their bodies if given sufficient time." Oloren pulls his sprig of holly from around his neck.
Felix sighs as he contemplates the threat this town is under. "I have had many a difficult battle in my life," he tells the young drow, "but never have I encountered undeath. I know that this will be hard, but we will save your town, I promise."
"My name is Yalluk, sir. If you want to talk about fortifications, you should speak with Zaf. The Keeper won’t come out of his manor and help us so we’ve all rallied behind her. She’s in the Moorbounder, with most of the other survivors. Here, I’ll take you to her!” Yalluk leads you through the town, pointing out different details as he does. You see there are dozens of houses that have either been burned to the ground or with smashed windows and doors hanging loosely upon their hinges. He then brings your attention to bonfires, which are actually huge heaps of burning corpses, that burn unattended in square. Some of the corpses seem normal, but others have a strange look to them; their fingers seem to have elongated into horrible gore-stained talons. "We burn most of our dead before they're given the chance to change... but well, we can't get to all of them."
In the ruins of the town, there are only two buildings with light in their windows: a massive manor with a wrought-iron fence, and a three-story inn with a pub on the first floor. The pub has a sign with a great black cat on it, and is called the Moorbounder. Its doors are reinforced with iron and barricaded by chairs. Yalluk approaches and knocks on the door. You hear various clicks and clacks before the door opens just a crack. Yalluk greets whoever is behind the door with a smile. "Hey Lyn! It's Yalluk! I brought adventurers to help us!" The door quickly opens up and you see a middle-aged female drow, her smile mirroring Yalluk's. "Oh, please, come in, come in! We don't have much to spare but, at the very least, we can give you a warm place to stay."
Before the party can even react, Yalluk and Lyn are pushing the party in with great excitement. The inside of the pub is filled with the sick and hungry townsfolk of Galgarad but one person stands out. Sitting on a table is a tall, muscular woman with light gray skin, a bald head, and countless tattoos all over her body. She turns to the characters as they enter and stands to approach them, leaning on a glaive like a crutch. "Hey Zef! Adventurers have come to help us! Everyone, meet Zef Beltune, our great Rallier!"
"Oh," says Dimiter as they approach. "The pub's called the Moorbounder. That makes more sense." He gets off his horse. "Is there somewhere we can put the animals? Loam here is a rental, don't think I'll get my deposit back on an undead horse."
”Hello, Zef. My name is Oloren. We understand that you’re having some difficulties with attacks by some undead. Please, tell us everything you can about the time leading up to the attacks. Also, we noticed another large building that seems more or less untouched by this disaster. What can you tell us about that large house?”
Lyn nods at Dimiter. "Unfortunately, the stables were destroyed in the attacks but you can keep your horse with us. We'll take good care of it." She takes the reigns of his horse, leading it to the back of the tavern.
Zef nods a greeting to the group. "Good morning, adventurers. Thank you for coming to our aid. We need all the help we can get." She slowly sits down with a sigh. "Well... everything started after I had a strange vision the night the attacks began; a star in the night sky turning jet black and glowing with evil light. I believe the Dark Star has somehow been corrupted by evil. Its an ancient artifact that is said to protect the town and it's supposed to be protected by the Keeper and his acolytes. I don't know how the star would be corrupted, but the Keeper dismissed his acolytes several months ago. The large house you speak of belongs to him."
The Road to Galgarad
PLAYERS:
pocketmouse - Dimiter, Bugbear Rogue/Fighter
Yoshiguy52 - Felix Stormwind, Dragonborn Fighter
UncleLucky - Hops, Elf Monk
Nahbois - Meklit Mynern, Earth Genasi Wizard
TinMan4243 - Oloren, Firbolg Druid
Welcome to the Wildemount: Dark Star! For your first post, why don't you describe your character's physical appearance and their reaction to the town?
Meklit stands just above average height and has a rather stocky and square frame, looking more like a pillar in silhouette. Her skin was a ruddy brick color, and had the texture of bricks too. Her short pumice like black hair hung close to her face, puffing out at the bottom, by her jaw. A scar runs along the edge of her jaw, by her ear. Two earrings adorn her right ear, blue and black in color. Her clothes were light, but had several layers to them. A simple purple shirt and dark grey pants make up the first layer. Goggles rested around her neck. A dark purple coat with pale blue and grey trimming sat above it. Dark grey gloves covered her hands. A dark purple scarf like skirt was held up belt, which housed her few weapons, pouches, and magic rod. A bag sat slung over her shoulder, and a pair of padded leather boots finished off her outfit.
The woman looked around the town, brow furrowed as she took in their surroundings. She held onto her bag's straps, a hollow comfort. "A town doesn't end up this way overnight."
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Elethan "Hops" Moonhopper is an incredibly aged Wood Elf. He often walks with a hunch, leaning on his quarterstaff for support. The keen observer can easily see this is a ruse as he's in better shape than most soldiers. He stands about 5'4'' and wears modest, loose fitted, green commoner's clothing, tied with a makeshift belt made of hempen rope. He keeps his bronze and silvered hair in a short top-knot, but it's not particularly well-kept. The only items on his person are usually a small silvered flask, a favorite necklace, and his quarterstaff, worn and nicked by age and use. The rest of his belongings he keeps on his favorite mule: a brown donkey with a mellow temperament that he has confusingly named Hops.
"But if it did, it must have been one hell of a party, hey?" Hops nudges the bigger genasi and chuckles to himself. He fiddles with his flask, sloshing around the last few splashes of wine. As the party stops to view the town, he refills his flask from one of the various unmarked kegs carried by his pet mule. "What do you say we see what fine establishments this town has to offer?"
His normal positive cheer turns to a solemn stare as he begins to hobble towards the town, saddened by the downfall of yet another village.
Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
Oloren towers at 7'8" and carries his 280 or so pound with a jolly trot during most of the travel into town, occasionally singing a happy tune in giant. His copper colored hair stand out in stark contrast to his bluish gray skin, but his most striking features are his bright green eyes. He wears dark brown studded leather armor with a shield and an unusual quarterstaff strapped to his back. His staff has winding vines and blossoms that grow out of it, and it even occasionally grows the odd berry, which Oloren promptly and excitedly eats whenever he notices one. From time to time he's even been seen to whisper to the flowers on his staff, sometimes chuckling to himself after doing so as though he had just told a joke we was particularly proud of. He also always has a sprig of magically preserved holly hanging from a cord around his neck. Whenever he needs to call on his druidic magic, he reaches for this sprig. Oloren jingles and jostles as he walks as his packs are filled with hundreds of pounds of adventuring gear. Oloren figures that if he's going to live the life of an adventurer, he had better carry the kit of one, at least until he completes his quest and makes his way back home to the Savalirwood. Then he can finally shed his burden, both physical and otherwise.
"This reminds me of the ruins of Molaesmyr back home. Something foul plagues this place." His eyes dart back and forth, checking every source of movement for potential threats.
Dimiter is a gangly combination of limbs and fur that hints that he's possibly not done growing yet -- or possibly it's just his over-long bugbear limbs. He's about 6'7", with lean ropy muscle mostly hidden under shaggy brown fur. He's attempting to grow a beard, but the only reason someone would know this is if he's told them, otherwise it's impossible to distinguish from his normal fur. His hair is swept away from his face in a low ponytail, and he's got a few closed-up piercings in one ear. He wears beaten-up dark studded leather armor, the shoulder looks like it used to have some sort of insignia, which has been removed, though this is mostly hidden underneath his traveling cloak. He has a symbol of the Luxon tucked haphazardly underneath it, and at each hip is a scimitar.
As they enter the town, he slips his book back into his pack and leans forward on his horse to look around for signs of violence, or makings in thieves' cant. "Looks like a lot of towns."
Birgit | Shifter | Sorcerer | Dragonlords
Shayone | Hobgoblin | Sorcerer | Netherdeep
Felix Stormwind is quite short for a dragonborn, standing at 6'1", and quite slim for a dragonborn as well, a result of his many years of servitude to the family he has claimed to be part of. The first thing you notice about him is that he doesn't have a tail, unlike many dragonborn you would see. As you look into his icy blue eyes, you can feel a piercing chill. His silvery white scales seems to glimmer in the early morning sunlight. He wears a simple, loose-fitting white button-up shirt and tan cargo pants. Over this simple attire, he wears a suit of chain mail. Unlike some of his companions, Felix is more straightforward and serious, keeping a straight face, sheathed longsword at his hip and shield on his back. The rest of his belongings he keeps in his bag of holding -- "It comes in handy," he always says.
He glances around, awed at the ruins of the city, but also cautious. "Seeing these ruins makes me miss my old home," Felix remarks. "I have seen many a ruined city in my adventuring days." He looks at the people; they all seem afraid. "I feel sorry for them. Something awful must be going on here." He insists on getting to know the townsfolk. "I want to know whom I'm going to save before I save them."
As you all watch the town and discuss amongst yourselves, a young male drow bolts past you before skidding to a halt. He turns to look at you all with cautious eyes that slowly turn almost excited. "W-who are you people? H-have you come to help the town?!"
"As much as they need that patronage, we should wait until we have all our information." Meklit replied to Hops. Her attention turned to the drow, her dull metallic grey eyes reflecting some caution.
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Heh, hey there young fella. It depends on who's asking." Feigning the look of a senile old man, he hobbles up to the man and leans heavily on his staff. "Does this town need help anymore? From the looks of it, it might need a more than just help. Mind telling us what happened?"
Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
"Yes, we have come to help the town," Felix reassures the young drow, "but we don't know why... or how." He reaches out his hand, in hopes that the drow shakes it, trying to look as non-violent as possible. "I am Felix Stormwind. You may have heard of my brother, Tiberius" -- he pauses to reflect for a few seconds. "We are a group of adventurers -- others may call us mercenaries, but I do not like that term -- sent here for an undisclosed reason. "
Oloren stiffens as he turns to look back the direction the drow came from, watching for some threat he may be running from. As he stiffens, his usual foul odor (light moldy bread and old leather books) grows a measure stronger as the spore cloud around him thickens slightly.
Oloren Perception: 12
The young drow looks incredibly relieved as the party confirms that they'd been sent to the town to help it. “Oh, thank the gods! We’ve been staving off an army of undead every night for the past week! The horde started small at first, but everyone who dies from the zombies rise as husks of their former selves and join them! The horde is huge now… I don’t think we’re going to survive the next attack...”
As Oloren looks to the direction the drow came from, he doesn't see anything that could be perceived as danger or a threat.
"PAH! Undead! Now there's a group that truly ruins things. You can usually find common ground and a drink with bandits and cultists and goblins, but those brainless shells don't give one much choice but to put them down." Hops stretches his back, assuming a more upright posture. "What's your name, kiddo? Why don't you show us what's left of this town and maybe we can prepare some fortifications before the next nightfall."
OOC: About what time is it?
Wildemount: Dark Star One Shot (potatocrown) - Hops - Level 7 Wood Elf Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)
"That would explain the state of the town." Meklit commented. She looked around them, assessing the town and what they could see of defenses. "I agree with Hops. Show us around, and you can answer some questions. So we can properly form a defense strategy."
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Do you have any dead within the city currently? I could prevent the curse of undeath from taking hold on their bodies if given sufficient time." Oloren pulls his sprig of holly from around his neck.
Felix sighs as he contemplates the threat this town is under. "I have had many a difficult battle in my life," he tells the young drow, "but never have I encountered undeath. I know that this will be hard, but we will save your town, I promise."
(It's past sunrise, around 9am in the morning.)
The Town of Galgarad
"My name is Yalluk, sir. If you want to talk about fortifications, you should speak with Zaf. The Keeper won’t come out of his manor and help us so we’ve all rallied behind her. She’s in the Moorbounder, with most of the other survivors. Here, I’ll take you to her!” Yalluk leads you through the town, pointing out different details as he does. You see there are dozens of houses that have either been burned to the ground or with smashed windows and doors hanging loosely upon their hinges. He then brings your attention to bonfires, which are actually huge heaps of burning corpses, that burn unattended in square. Some of the corpses seem normal, but others have a strange look to them; their fingers seem to have elongated into horrible gore-stained talons. "We burn most of our dead before they're given the chance to change... but well, we can't get to all of them."
In the ruins of the town, there are only two buildings with light in their windows: a massive manor with a wrought-iron fence, and a three-story inn with a pub on the first floor. The pub has a sign with a great black cat on it, and is called the Moorbounder. Its doors are reinforced with iron and barricaded by chairs. Yalluk approaches and knocks on the door. You hear various clicks and clacks before the door opens just a crack. Yalluk greets whoever is behind the door with a smile. "Hey Lyn! It's Yalluk! I brought adventurers to help us!" The door quickly opens up and you see a middle-aged female drow, her smile mirroring Yalluk's. "Oh, please, come in, come in! We don't have much to spare but, at the very least, we can give you a warm place to stay."
Before the party can even react, Yalluk and Lyn are pushing the party in with great excitement. The inside of the pub is filled with the sick and hungry townsfolk of Galgarad but one person stands out. Sitting on a table is a tall, muscular woman with light gray skin, a bald head, and countless tattoos all over her body. She turns to the characters as they enter and stands to approach them, leaning on a glaive like a crutch. "Hey Zef! Adventurers have come to help us! Everyone, meet Zef Beltune, our great Rallier!"
"Oh," says Dimiter as they approach. "The pub's called the Moorbounder. That makes more sense." He gets off his horse. "Is there somewhere we can put the animals? Loam here is a rental, don't think I'll get my deposit back on an undead horse."
Birgit | Shifter | Sorcerer | Dragonlords
Shayone | Hobgoblin | Sorcerer | Netherdeep
”Hello, Zef. My name is Oloren. We understand that you’re having some difficulties with attacks by some undead. Please, tell us everything you can about the time leading up to the attacks. Also, we noticed another large building that seems more or less untouched by this disaster. What can you tell us about that large house?”
Lyn nods at Dimiter. "Unfortunately, the stables were destroyed in the attacks but you can keep your horse with us. We'll take good care of it." She takes the reigns of his horse, leading it to the back of the tavern.
Zef nods a greeting to the group. "Good morning, adventurers. Thank you for coming to our aid. We need all the help we can get." She slowly sits down with a sigh. "Well... everything started after I had a strange vision the night the attacks began; a star in the night sky turning jet black and glowing with evil light. I believe the Dark Star has somehow been corrupted by evil. Its an ancient artifact that is said to protect the town and it's supposed to be protected by the Keeper and his acolytes. I don't know how the star would be corrupted, but the Keeper dismissed his acolytes several months ago. The large house you speak of belongs to him."