You awake to find yourself lying before a great gate. The night is cool and a thickset mist rolls over the path behind you. As your senses become more focused you find a backpack on the ground beside you, it contains your adventuring belongings.
You remember little of the night before; brief images of brightly clothed people dancing, drinking, and laughing stir in your mind but they are fractured and hazy at best. Trying to make sense of the memories swimming around your head you briefly recall mentions of a name, “Madam Eva”, though you do not know who or what that is.
A rustling sound pierces the immediate scene, you see other’s appearing from the mist, they look as confused as you feel. Could there have been other adventurers in a similar predicament to yourself? Might they know what happened? Or where you are?
Looking around others start to appear from the mists - looks of confusion upon their faces. They total six.
Characters
(In alphabetical order, based on character name)
Current
Cerio Dreswitch - Human Rogue (Phantom) - Ashen_Age
Dadeveth Sungroomer - Centaur Bard (College of Creation) -DragonDenn
The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming grey in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.
"Ahh were am I? I haven't felt this bad since I got into that drinking contest with the other smiths," says Dormark in a male voice, clasping his head with a tinking of metal against metal. standing up he retrieves his bag and weapons looking the contents of the letter he received. He then stuffs the letter in between a crack in his arm easy enough for him to retrieve, but hard for anyone else to get.
At first glance in the dark the other adventure might mistake him as a person wearing metal armor, but on closer inspection the would see that beneath the cracks in his flesh was a wood core and looking into his eyes would notice the unusual glowing color of red, the same color of glowing embers. On his face stamp on the middle of his forehead was a symbol of an anvil with fire coming from it. Picking up his mace he whispers a pray on it and places it back upon his belt. (becomes a +1 magic weapon)
Looking around at the other's before him he said, "Well does anyone know where we are? I assume the rest of you were dropped here by the same "host"."
Sandu groaned. He usually prided himself on having a good memory, even after a night of drinking, but now his memories were as hazy as the fog he walked out on. He could not even recall actually walking through the fog as it felt like he just woke up way too far from the comfortable bed he had paid for yesterday.
He felt around the ground around him. His hand clasped around a hard piece of wood while his other hand found a leather strap. Sandu turned his head. Good, my staff and bag are here, guess that means I wasn't robbed at least. He stood up and wiped off the dirt from his breeches. But as he reached down to grab his bag, Sandu felt something. Something unusual yet pleasant: a tingle in his fingertips. Holding out his hand in front of him, Sandu gazed intently at his fingers. There! There it was! A single spark, purple in colour, jumped from his thumb across the others all the way to his pink. Magic! Sandu grinned to himself. I can do magic!
He hoisted his bag onto his back and checked the rest of his person. Everything was still there. More surprising was the fact that he had woken up with more than he remembered: a letter and a pouch filled with coin. He gleefully reached into the pouch when he suddenly heard a voice.
"Well does anyone know where we are? I assume the rest of you were dropped here by the same "host"."
Sandu turned around to see who spoke. 'Did... did that piece of armour just talk?' He asked tentatively while instinctively stepping a few steps away from it.
Ioben finishes reading the note he had found and pockets the small purse before checking the contents of his backpack. His back ached, probably from waking up on the ground, still, it was nothing that a few stretches and a warm bath hadn't cured in the past.
"Well does anyone know where we are? I assume the rest of you were dropped here by the same 'host'."
The voice behind him caught his attention and without thinking he answered. "Barovia?"The words left his lips without even a grain of certainty. Ioben threw his backpack over his shoulder as he straightened up, pulled his long coat into position, brushing the dirt off the velvet as best he could - he would have to get that cleaned when he had the opportunity - and turned to face the stranger. "So I take it this isn't where you thought you would be either?"
"This 'piece of armor' has a name you know, call me Dormark," he says this in a tone that, this question has been raised before and this was his usual answer. (Anyone proficient in Dwarvish knows that Dormark means anvil)
Looking at the elven figure ahead of him and hearing the question on his answer, he understood that most of his party probably wouldn't know. "Well I usually don't drink, and sleep effects don't work on me, so finding myself in a place I don't know away from were I was ... disconcerting," he says clamping his steel jaw together with a snap. "If with is Barovia then Strahd is certainly leading us down a certain path," he says scratching his metal dome.
"It is definitely a most uncertain welcome. It is the first time someone has greeted me with gifts and messages, only to leave me OUTSIDE."Ioben shouted in the direction of the gates as his confusion and frustration couldn't be contained. "Sorry," he shook he head to clear the last of his fogginess away. "I guess proper introductions are in order." Ioben stepped toward Dormark extending his hand in greeting. "I am Ioben, lately of Beregost, though I could hardly call that home."
Ioben stands just over 6 foot tall. One of the first things people notice about him is his piercing emerald eyes. His mixed elven and human heritage is betrayed by the pointed tops of his ears, and his thin features, though he tries to hide his as best he can with his long, black hair, which he wears just longer than shoulder length and pulled back loosely to frame his face. His hair, although not neatly cut, appears to be washed and combed regularly.
He always dresses in his finest clothes. This includes: a heavy-weight linen shirt; dark brown trousers, nicely tailored but well-worn; thigh-high leather boots with a little tooling around the top showing coins - the symbols of Tymora - with the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his left boat; and a maroon velvet trenchcoat. On his belt hangs a rapier with a dagger strapped to his thigh just beneath it.
Taking the hand in a firm but friendly grip Dormark says, "Ahh, a fellow wander too? Like I said, my name is Dormark if you wish to address me." Despite being metal the hand contact was actually warm to the touch as if touching another living being, as if he still had the warmth of the fire that made him all those years ago.
"Well met Dormark. The least we can do is be civilized until we see any threat." Ioben turns to look at the others who had yet to stir. "Do you think they are alright?"
"I doubt that the one that brought us here has treated them any differently, but it never hurts to make sure they are alive," Dormark goes to inspect them all checking their condition.
(I would like to use my Passive medicine to check the others, it should be a 15 since I'm not pressed)
"I'm surprise that you aren't like the other one over there, question your sanity for talking to walking metal being. Have you met something that is similar to me," he asks inspecting the others, but being very gentle with is inspection.
"No, I can't say that I have, though I have met many people who are not like me. You must admit though that it is but one of a number of unusual things happening right now. I just woke in a place I have never seen before, and I have no idea how, why, or how to get back."
"By my guess, I assume Strahd is someone with a fair amount of power, magic or otherwise, and were going to have to play his game if we are to learn why we have been brought here. My letter gave me a clue as to where he wants me to start ... maybe he wants me to answer the question I've been seeking," he says checking a pulse.
Dormark with your passive medicine check the remaining adventurers appear to be well. There are no unusual beats / rhythms when you check the pulses. You conclude that they are likely sleeping and should be able to be roused.
Valerie slowly opens her eyes as she begins to gain consciousness. She blinks her eyes for a few time for her eyes to focus.
When she gains a clearer view of her surrounding, she instinctively jumps up and grabs her sword, then looks around and finds some strangers that she has never met before.
"Who are you?" While looking a them curiously.
She tries to recall what happened last night. She was having a celebration in a tavern. Why did she out here? Who brought her here? She knows she is not a heavy drinker, but she drank only one cup which should not have made her lose her conscious. All of these make no sense.
She then starts rummaging through her backpack and takes out a letter. A curious look starts growing on her face as she is reading the letter. "Strahd Von Zarovich" She mutters a name of which she never heard of.
She puts away the letter and looks at the strangers on front of her. Are they lost too?
The young brown haired dwarf opens his eyes to see the red eyes of the warforged looking back at him. Scrambling away in a panic he yells "not again!" Looking around at the strange scene, patting himself down a bit, and then looking back at the warforged he more calmly remarks "you're not the one who took my stuff, sorry." Looking around with confusion the dwarf looks down at his pack, picks it up and sees the note and coin fall out. "What's going on?" he asks the others. "What's this?"he adds, referring to the note and the coin as he unfurls the note and begins to read while keeping one eye on everyone else.
"Ahh, a few more of you are awake, good I checked to see if there were any issues with you since we all passed out, but you all seem to be fine," says Dormark standing back up. "And to answer your questions, we know about as much as you do, but I've have guess Stradh is the cause for a current predicament, and Loben made the educated guess we are before the village Barovia. Whether that is the case I do not know. By the way my name is Dormark, the man behind me is Loben, and i don't know who that man over there is yet since like alot of folks he hasn't seen the likes of me before, which is understandable considering I am the only being I know of my kind," he says.
(Baern should know what what Dormark's name means and understand the symbol stamp on his head, if you have questions about just pm me. Also looking at the setting Warforge would be pretty rare, so most of you wouldn't probably heard of one except Baern)
Looking to the arisen paladin he says, "Also, please don't hit me with a sword, you may not think it, but it still hurts ... I think"
Half way done his letter, the young dwarf approaches Dormark again. “Are you... a dwarven made construct? Brilliant! Who is your maker? Oh, and I’m Baern.”
Finishing his letter he asks “ah, did this Strahd refer to anyone else as ‘son’?”
(funny about the magic revelation, I was planning something similar for Baern)
She quickly sheaths her sword to her wrist with an apologetic look. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do you any harm. It's just... just my instinct." She stands up and looks at Dormak. "Greeting Dormak. I am Valerie Ghalal. Paladin of Torm." She puts her arm across her chest and bows.
Then she closely looks around. "But where is Barovia? I don't think I heard about it before."
"I guess you could say I was co-created by the Smiths of Moradin and their god, the glyph on my head is his symbol," he says tapping his finger to it. "Also no, he address me as a 'thing' though factual, kind of don't know how to feel about it."
"Sorry. Not to be rude, but let me correct you there. Ioben, not Loben. Eye-oh-ben. But yes, we know just as much as you do." Ioben made a small waving gesture to the two others who had just woken. "I think I want to go meet this Strahd. He may have a strange way of greeting people, but he probably has the answers we are after too."
Hearing Ioben's comment he said, "Oh sorry something must be messing with my hearing." He clangs a hand against his head and out of one of the joints in his head a piece of rock flies out. "Hmm much better," he says with a sigh of relief.
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Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
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The Call Of Strahd - Beginnings
Adventure Hook
Looking around others start to appear from the mists - looks of confusion upon their faces. They total six.
Characters
(In alphabetical order, based on character name)
Current
Retired (Gone but not forgotten)
The Gates of Barovia
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
"Ahh were am I? I haven't felt this bad since I got into that drinking contest with the other smiths," says Dormark in a male voice, clasping his head with a tinking of metal against metal. standing up he retrieves his bag and weapons looking the contents of the letter he received. He then stuffs the letter in between a crack in his arm easy enough for him to retrieve, but hard for anyone else to get.
At first glance in the dark the other adventure might mistake him as a person wearing metal armor, but on closer inspection the would see that beneath the cracks in his flesh was a wood core and looking into his eyes would notice the unusual glowing color of red, the same color of glowing embers. On his face stamp on the middle of his forehead was a symbol of an anvil with fire coming from it. Picking up his mace he whispers a pray on it and places it back upon his belt. (becomes a +1 magic weapon)
Looking around at the other's before him he said, "Well does anyone know where we are? I assume the rest of you were dropped here by the same "host"."
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Sandu groaned. He usually prided himself on having a good memory, even after a night of drinking, but now his memories were as hazy as the fog he walked out on. He could not even recall actually walking through the fog as it felt like he just woke up way too far from the comfortable bed he had paid for yesterday.
He felt around the ground around him. His hand clasped around a hard piece of wood while his other hand found a leather strap. Sandu turned his head. Good, my staff and bag are here, guess that means I wasn't robbed at least. He stood up and wiped off the dirt from his breeches. But as he reached down to grab his bag, Sandu felt something. Something unusual yet pleasant: a tingle in his fingertips. Holding out his hand in front of him, Sandu gazed intently at his fingers. There! There it was! A single spark, purple in colour, jumped from his thumb across the others all the way to his pink. Magic! Sandu grinned to himself. I can do magic!
He hoisted his bag onto his back and checked the rest of his person. Everything was still there. More surprising was the fact that he had woken up with more than he remembered: a letter and a pouch filled with coin. He gleefully reached into the pouch when he suddenly heard a voice.
Sandu turned around to see who spoke. 'Did... did that piece of armour just talk?' He asked tentatively while instinctively stepping a few steps away from it.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Ioben finishes reading the note he had found and pockets the small purse before checking the contents of his backpack. His back ached, probably from waking up on the ground, still, it was nothing that a few stretches and a warm bath hadn't cured in the past.
The voice behind him caught his attention and without thinking he answered. "Barovia?" The words left his lips without even a grain of certainty. Ioben threw his backpack over his shoulder as he straightened up, pulled his long coat into position, brushing the dirt off the velvet as best he could - he would have to get that cleaned when he had the opportunity - and turned to face the stranger. "So I take it this isn't where you thought you would be either?"
"This 'piece of armor' has a name you know, call me Dormark," he says this in a tone that, this question has been raised before and this was his usual answer. (Anyone proficient in Dwarvish knows that Dormark means anvil)
Looking at the elven figure ahead of him and hearing the question on his answer, he understood that most of his party probably wouldn't know. "Well I usually don't drink, and sleep effects don't work on me, so finding myself in a place I don't know away from were I was ... disconcerting," he says clamping his steel jaw together with a snap. "If with is Barovia then Strahd is certainly leading us down a certain path," he says scratching his metal dome.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
"It is definitely a most uncertain welcome. It is the first time someone has greeted me with gifts and messages, only to leave me OUTSIDE." Ioben shouted in the direction of the gates as his confusion and frustration couldn't be contained. "Sorry," he shook he head to clear the last of his fogginess away. "I guess proper introductions are in order." Ioben stepped toward Dormark extending his hand in greeting. "I am Ioben, lately of Beregost, though I could hardly call that home."
Ioben stands just over 6 foot tall. One of the first things people notice about him is his piercing emerald eyes. His mixed elven and human heritage is betrayed by the pointed tops of his ears, and his thin features, though he tries to hide his as best he can with his long, black hair, which he wears just longer than shoulder length and pulled back loosely to frame his face. His hair, although not neatly cut, appears to be washed and combed regularly.
He always dresses in his finest clothes. This includes: a heavy-weight linen shirt; dark brown trousers, nicely tailored but well-worn; thigh-high leather boots with a little tooling around the top showing coins - the symbols of Tymora - with the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his left boat; and a maroon velvet trenchcoat. On his belt hangs a rapier with a dagger strapped to his thigh just beneath it.
Taking the hand in a firm but friendly grip Dormark says, "Ahh, a fellow wander too? Like I said, my name is Dormark if you wish to address me." Despite being metal the hand contact was actually warm to the touch as if touching another living being, as if he still had the warmth of the fire that made him all those years ago.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
"Well met Dormark. The least we can do is be civilized until we see any threat." Ioben turns to look at the others who had yet to stir. "Do you think they are alright?"
"I doubt that the one that brought us here has treated them any differently, but it never hurts to make sure they are alive," Dormark goes to inspect them all checking their condition.
(I would like to use my Passive medicine to check the others, it should be a 15 since I'm not pressed)
"I'm surprise that you aren't like the other one over there, question your sanity for talking to walking metal being. Have you met something that is similar to me," he asks inspecting the others, but being very gentle with is inspection.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
"No, I can't say that I have, though I have met many people who are not like me. You must admit though that it is but one of a number of unusual things happening right now. I just woke in a place I have never seen before, and I have no idea how, why, or how to get back."
"By my guess, I assume Strahd is someone with a fair amount of power, magic or otherwise, and were going to have to play his game if we are to learn why we have been brought here. My letter gave me a clue as to where he wants me to start ... maybe he wants me to answer the question I've been seeking," he says checking a pulse.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Dormark with your passive medicine check the remaining adventurers appear to be well. There are no unusual beats / rhythms when you check the pulses. You conclude that they are likely sleeping and should be able to be roused.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Valerie slowly opens her eyes as she begins to gain consciousness. She blinks her eyes for a few time for her eyes to focus.
When she gains a clearer view of her surrounding, she instinctively jumps up and grabs her sword, then looks around and finds some strangers that she has never met before.
"Who are you?" While looking a them curiously.
She tries to recall what happened last night. She was having a celebration in a tavern. Why did she out here? Who brought her here? She knows she is not a heavy drinker, but she drank only one cup which should not have made her lose her conscious. All of these make no sense.
She then starts rummaging through her backpack and takes out a letter. A curious look starts growing on her face as she is reading the letter. "Strahd Von Zarovich" She mutters a name of which she never heard of.
She puts away the letter and looks at the strangers on front of her. Are they lost too?
The young brown haired dwarf opens his eyes to see the red eyes of the warforged looking back at him. Scrambling away in a panic he yells "not again!" Looking around at the strange scene, patting himself down a bit, and then looking back at the warforged he more calmly remarks "you're not the one who took my stuff, sorry." Looking around with confusion the dwarf looks down at his pack, picks it up and sees the note and coin fall out. "What's going on?" he asks the others. "What's this?" he adds, referring to the note and the coin as he unfurls the note and begins to read while keeping one eye on everyone else.
"Ahh, a few more of you are awake, good I checked to see if there were any issues with you since we all passed out, but you all seem to be fine," says Dormark standing back up. "And to answer your questions, we know about as much as you do, but I've have guess Stradh is the cause for a current predicament, and Loben made the educated guess we are before the village Barovia. Whether that is the case I do not know. By the way my name is Dormark, the man behind me is Loben, and i don't know who that man over there is yet since like alot of folks he hasn't seen the likes of me before, which is understandable considering I am the only being I know of my kind," he says.
(Baern should know what what Dormark's name means and understand the symbol stamp on his head, if you have questions about just pm me. Also looking at the setting Warforge would be pretty rare, so most of you wouldn't probably heard of one except Baern)
Looking to the arisen paladin he says, "Also, please don't hit me with a sword, you may not think it, but it still hurts ... I think"
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Half way done his letter, the young dwarf approaches Dormark again. “Are you... a dwarven made construct? Brilliant! Who is your maker? Oh, and I’m Baern.”
Finishing his letter he asks “ah, did this Strahd refer to anyone else as ‘son’?”
(funny about the magic revelation, I was planning something similar for Baern)
She quickly sheaths her sword to her wrist with an apologetic look. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do you any harm. It's just... just my instinct." She stands up and looks at Dormak. "Greeting Dormak. I am Valerie Ghalal. Paladin of Torm." She puts her arm across her chest and bows.
Then she closely looks around. "But where is Barovia? I don't think I heard about it before."
(OOC: Do I know where Barovia is?)
"I guess you could say I was co-created by the Smiths of Moradin and their god, the glyph on my head is his symbol," he says tapping his finger to it. "Also no, he address me as a 'thing' though factual, kind of don't know how to feel about it."
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
"Sorry. Not to be rude, but let me correct you there. Ioben, not Loben. Eye-oh-ben. But yes, we know just as much as you do." Ioben made a small waving gesture to the two others who had just woken. "I think I want to go meet this Strahd. He may have a strange way of greeting people, but he probably has the answers we are after too."
Hearing Ioben's comment he said, "Oh sorry something must be messing with my hearing." He clangs a hand against his head and out of one of the joints in his head a piece of rock flies out. "Hmm much better," he says with a sigh of relief.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4