Just replaced my elf conjurer w/ a human (variant) battle master
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Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
"For the past several days, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: a wasting disease afflicting everyone who’s ever been raised from the dead. Victims grow thinner and weaker each day, slowly but steadily sliding toward the death they once denied. When they finally succumb, they can’t be raised — and neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they’ve ever received that miracle in the past. Temples and scholars of divine magic are at a loss to explain a curse that has affected the entire region, and possibly the entire world."
Please take this time to introduce your characters. No need to give an entire backstory, but the most important details.
A fairly attractive elven female, thin, graceful, and fit. Brown hair, bright green eyes. Seen a bit of combat action, you can tell she can hold her own. Her typical attitude holds a dry sarcastic wit with a surprisingly comforting smile that flashes occasionally when she's being sincere.
I will use italics when she's "talking".
"Name's Crispy.
It's not my real name - it's a nickname or a state of mind. I'm always on the edge, stayin' cool, stayin' "crispy" - it's where I like to be. It's where i'm at my best. Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Like assaulting a racist co-worker, robbing and extorting criminal scum, accepting bribes, even taking drugs. Lots of bad things I shouldn't have done as a peace officer.
But we won't talk about that. I'm not an investigator anymore. I was fired after my work partner died. All the bad stuff caught up with me...and lets just say i'm...not allow in Waterdeep anymore."
Evidence of just how hard a life the man before you has lived is visibly apparent. Maybe he was once good-looking, but decades of life on the seas and the road have turned his skin the color and texture of old, beat leather. The scar tissue certainly doesn't help things, either. He's tall, at about 6'3" but in extremely good shape under his chain mail armor. Strapped to his back is a large backpack stuffed to the brim with gear, as well as a triangular shield of wood and at his waist hangs a long sword. He also keeps a crossbow of light manufacture in a harness affixed to his belt. The man looks at ease and seemingly without a care in the world, but there's a hardness to his eyes the likes of which you've only seen from a man who's seem a lot of people die at the wrong end of his blade.
Stannis... of Luskan...
Rich folk pay me to kill other folk. Sometimes monsters, but usually other folk. Sometimes I get paid to protect folk from other folk who wanna kill 'em... but that usually winds up with me just havin' ta' kill folk all the same. I'm here because some rich bastard paid me a fair amount of coin ta' find out what's killin' someone important to him. If ye can help me do that, you're welcome to join. If you're goin' ta' bog me down or get in my way, I'd rather ya' not come at all.
[What does the environment/situation around us look like?]
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
As many of your life adventures have been painful or plentiful you find yourself in Baulder's Gate.
You have been invited to the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired dwarf adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you up a grand staircase to the third floor, then ushers you into a wood-paneled room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a heavy table bearing goblets and bottles of wine. The darkly paneled walls are hung with maps and sea charts. Racks, shelves, and cabinets hold hundreds more rolled-up maps and charts.
A person is seated in an overstuffed chair near the fire. You can’t discern a gender, because only the person’s head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask conceal the wearer’s face. Even the person’s dry, raspy voice provides no clue. “Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends — I hope I may call you that.”
Stannis sizes up the room and its inhabitants, noting where the exits are. If there are multiple bottles of wine, he takes one and leaves the goblet behind before setting himself down in a chair as close to a corner where he can see all the exits as possible. If there is only the single bottle or carafe, he pours himself a goblet to the brim and takes the same chair. You can't tell whether it's the chair or his joints that creak. The man looks well-warn and road-weary, as if he's spent weeks riding.
Most of my friends, I know their face...
He groans under his breath as he sits, settles in, and takes a pull from his goblet.
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Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Syndra looks at Crispy, "I very much doubt i do, but it is always good to see you."
After a little coughing fit she looks over at Stannis, "There's a death curse going around, and unfortunately I was hit by it. My face has been falling off as of late and I don't want people to see me like this," after a short pause she continues, "I was a hero once, Missy Crispy can vouch for that, and I'm still well respected, no one can see how I look."
He takes another pull from his goblet and considers the point, putting himself in Syndra's shoes.
Can't say I'd do any different. 'Course if it's me, I probably spend my last few nights and coins in the arms of a beautiful woman before that comes off, too. 'Course I'm just poor bastard with a sword. Were I rich man, might hire me some poor fool with a sword and his wizard friend to find me a cure.
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Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Behind the mask you get a hint of a smile, "Right to the point, I like you already," she points a scroll on a table and it magically lifts up and gets put into her hand, "Have you heard of Chult?"
Stannis nearly chokes on his wine, it is clear that a trip to Chult is not anywhere close to being on his bucket list.
F*ck me... Chult? I don't think you've got enough money. Even if I wasn't on another job already.
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Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Veloure Mattias is a young man with delicate features and an air of self-importance. He may appear to be human, to the average onlooker, but some may possibly find his appearance to be a bit... too well kept. He looks at most everything with a disinterested gaze and speaks with a casual tone that betrays no sign of excitement or joy, or much of anything else. The clothing he wears is made of fine material and design, hinting at a background of wealth, and he carries on himself only simple weapons. which he doesn't seem terribly attached to. Occasionally, he idly turns a small crystal over in his hands, one which an individual experienced in magic may recognize as a common form of arcane focus.
Within Syndra's room, Veloure listens to the conversation, taking in the details. "Chult. I believe I've heard the name but I personally know little. I assume you bring it up because it's relevant, so do feel free to share anything you believe to be important.
"My contacts in the Harpers have learned that the cause of the death curse is a necromantic artifact called the Soulmonger. According to their sources, the Soulmonger is somewhere in Chult.”
She unrolls the scroll, and it turns out to be a map.
"I have been provided with a rough map of Chult, but a lot of this land is unmarked. Chult is a peninsula ringed with mountains and choked with rainforests. Enormous reptiles, savage goblins, and an army of undead prowl its jungles and ruins. Mapping the place has always been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region’s current geography beyond a few miles from the coast," she will then roll up the map and give it to Veloure.
Veloure examines the map on his own, something of a smirk forming on his face as he does. "Interesting," he mumbles. "Well, it seems like a fairly straightforward task in terms of our objective. Go to Chult, find this 'Soulmonger' artifact, and stop the curse. That's about the basics from the sounds of it, yes?"
A slight chuckle comes from behind the mask, "I wish it was that simple young man, but alas, nothing is ever simple."
She pushes the blanket off of her and you now see her full body as she stands.
“Well if there isn't anymore questions and you are willing to help me, and others like me then when you’re ready to depart, I will teleport us all to Port Nyanzaru, the only major settlement in Chult. I’ve been there several times before, so there’s little chance of mishap. Once there, I’ll stay with a friend named Wakanga O’tamu. He’s one of seven merchant princes who rule the city.”
"Go to Chult, eh? I've heard lots of great things about that place, I say with light sarcasm. Find the Soulmonger. Sounds dangerous. Alright! I'm in. I'll do it. Soooo, does this make us even then? You know, you do for me, I do for you, kinda stuff? Calling in and doing favors, bleh bleh?"
Crispy wonders if this mission will lead to some redemption, and stands up to get ready to depart, then apparently looking for something.
I imagine the DM will send you the code for the campaign - to join it.
The Players have been selected!!!
You know who you are. The four that will travel to a distant land and face a fear like none before.
Don't cry, your tears will be wasted on rotting bodies of old and young.
Now my players, have we the courage to continue?
Ready!! (I think we might need a tank though!)
Just replaced my elf conjurer w/ a human (variant) battle master
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Booyeah!!
"For the past several days, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: a wasting disease afflicting everyone who’s ever been raised from the dead. Victims grow thinner and weaker each day, slowly but steadily sliding toward the death they once denied. When they finally succumb, they can’t be raised — and neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they’ve ever received that miracle in the past. Temples and scholars of divine magic are at a loss to explain a curse that has affected the entire region, and possibly the entire world."
Please take this time to introduce your characters. No need to give an entire backstory, but the most important details.
Everything in Bold text is me, the DM, speaking.
A fairly attractive elven female, thin, graceful, and fit. Brown hair, bright green eyes. Seen a bit of combat action, you can tell she can hold her own. Her typical attitude holds a dry sarcastic wit with a surprisingly comforting smile that flashes occasionally when she's being sincere.
I will use italics when she's "talking".
"Name's Crispy.
It's not my real name - it's a nickname or a state of mind. I'm always on the edge, stayin' cool, stayin' "crispy" - it's where I like to be. It's where i'm at my best. Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Like assaulting a racist co-worker, robbing and extorting criminal scum, accepting bribes, even taking drugs. Lots of bad things I shouldn't have done as a peace officer.
But we won't talk about that. I'm not an investigator anymore. I was fired after my work partner died. All the bad stuff caught up with me...and lets just say i'm...not allow in Waterdeep anymore."
Evidence of just how hard a life the man before you has lived is visibly apparent. Maybe he was once good-looking, but decades of life on the seas and the road have turned his skin the color and texture of old, beat leather. The scar tissue certainly doesn't help things, either. He's tall, at about 6'3" but in extremely good shape under his chain mail armor. Strapped to his back is a large backpack stuffed to the brim with gear, as well as a triangular shield of wood and at his waist hangs a long sword. He also keeps a crossbow of light manufacture in a harness affixed to his belt. The man looks at ease and seemingly without a care in the world, but there's a hardness to his eyes the likes of which you've only seen from a man who's seem a lot of people die at the wrong end of his blade.
Stannis... of Luskan...
Rich folk pay me to kill other folk. Sometimes monsters, but usually other folk. Sometimes I get paid to protect folk from other folk who wanna kill 'em... but that usually winds up with me just havin' ta' kill folk all the same. I'm here because some rich bastard paid me a fair amount of coin ta' find out what's killin' someone important to him. If ye can help me do that, you're welcome to join. If you're goin' ta' bog me down or get in my way, I'd rather ya' not come at all.
[What does the environment/situation around us look like?]
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
As many of your life adventures have been painful or plentiful you find yourself in Baulder's Gate.
You have been invited to the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired dwarf adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you up a grand staircase to the third floor, then ushers you into a wood-paneled room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a heavy table bearing goblets and bottles of wine. The darkly paneled walls are hung with maps and sea charts. Racks, shelves, and cabinets hold hundreds more rolled-up maps and charts.
A person is seated in an overstuffed chair near the fire. You can’t discern a gender, because only the person’s head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask conceal the wearer’s face. Even the person’s dry, raspy voice provides no clue. “Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends — I hope I may call you that.”
Syndra. We meet again. You're looking...well.
Stannis sizes up the room and its inhabitants, noting where the exits are. If there are multiple bottles of wine, he takes one and leaves the goblet behind before setting himself down in a chair as close to a corner where he can see all the exits as possible. If there is only the single bottle or carafe, he pours himself a goblet to the brim and takes the same chair. You can't tell whether it's the chair or his joints that creak. The man looks well-warn and road-weary, as if he's spent weeks riding.
Most of my friends, I know their face...
He groans under his breath as he sits, settles in, and takes a pull from his goblet.
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Syndra looks at Crispy, "I very much doubt i do, but it is always good to see you."
After a little coughing fit she looks over at Stannis, "There's a death curse going around, and unfortunately I was hit by it. My face has been falling off as of late and I don't want people to see me like this," after a short pause she continues, "I was a hero once, Missy Crispy can vouch for that, and I'm still well respected, no one can see how I look."
He takes another pull from his goblet and considers the point, putting himself in Syndra's shoes.
Can't say I'd do any different. 'Course if it's me, I probably spend my last few nights and coins in the arms of a beautiful woman before that comes off, too. 'Course I'm just poor bastard with a sword. Were I rich man, might hire me some poor fool with a sword and his wizard friend to find me a cure.
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Behind the mask you get a hint of a smile, "Right to the point, I like you already," she points a scroll on a table and it magically lifts up and gets put into her hand, "Have you heard of Chult?"
Stannis nearly chokes on his wine, it is clear that a trip to Chult is not anywhere close to being on his bucket list.
F*ck me... Chult? I don't think you've got enough money. Even if I wasn't on another job already.
Since 1995: AD&D 2nd Ed.; D&D 5e; Vampire: The Masquerade (and other Old-WoD titles); Rifts (and other Palladium RPGs); Star Wars (WEG); Magic: The Gathering; Old School Essentials; AOL Red Dragon Inn; Ultima Online; Dark Age of Camelot
Veloure Mattias is a young man with delicate features and an air of self-importance. He may appear to be human, to the average onlooker, but some may possibly find his appearance to be a bit... too well kept. He looks at most everything with a disinterested gaze and speaks with a casual tone that betrays no sign of excitement or joy, or much of anything else. The clothing he wears is made of fine material and design, hinting at a background of wealth, and he carries on himself only simple weapons. which he doesn't seem terribly attached to. Occasionally, he idly turns a small crystal over in his hands, one which an individual experienced in magic may recognize as a common form of arcane focus.
Within Syndra's room, Veloure listens to the conversation, taking in the details. "Chult. I believe I've heard the name but I personally know little. I assume you bring it up because it's relevant, so do feel free to share anything you believe to be important.
"My contacts in the Harpers have learned that the cause of the death curse is a necromantic artifact called the Soulmonger. According to their sources, the Soulmonger is somewhere in Chult.”
She unrolls the scroll, and it turns out to be a map.
"I have been provided with a rough map of Chult, but a lot of this land is unmarked. Chult is a peninsula ringed with mountains and choked with rainforests. Enormous reptiles, savage goblins, and an army of undead prowl its jungles and ruins. Mapping the place has always been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region’s current geography beyond a few miles from the coast," she will then roll up the map and give it to Veloure.
Veloure examines the map on his own, something of a smirk forming on his face as he does. "Interesting," he mumbles. "Well, it seems like a fairly straightforward task in terms of our objective. Go to Chult, find this 'Soulmonger' artifact, and stop the curse. That's about the basics from the sounds of it, yes?"
A slight chuckle comes from behind the mask, "I wish it was that simple young man, but alas, nothing is ever simple."
She pushes the blanket off of her and you now see her full body as she stands.
“Well if there isn't anymore questions and you are willing to help me, and others like me then when you’re ready to depart, I will teleport us all to Port Nyanzaru, the only major settlement in Chult. I’ve been there several times before, so there’s little chance of mishap. Once there, I’ll stay with a friend named Wakanga O’tamu. He’s one of seven merchant princes who rule the city.”
Crispy muses over the idea for moment, nodding..
"Go to Chult, eh? I've heard lots of great things about that place, I say with light sarcasm. Find the Soulmonger. Sounds dangerous. Alright! I'm in. I'll do it. Soooo, does this make us even then? You know, you do for me, I do for you, kinda stuff? Calling in and doing favors, bleh bleh?"
Crispy wonders if this mission will lead to some redemption, and stands up to get ready to depart, then apparently looking for something.
"Now..where did I keep my bug spray....?"