Something evil is trapping the souls of the dead and draining life from all who have been raised from death by magic. This worldwide "death curse" not only prevents the raising of the dead but also causes creatures that were previously raised from the dead to wither and die. Where could be the source of this terrible death curse?
Tomb Of Annihilation is a Dungeons and Dragons adventure that takes place on the peninsula of Chult in the Forgotten Realms. This adventure will be for four to six 1st-level characters, who should advance to 11th level or higher by the adventure's conclusion.
For those that have been chosen to join me on this fantastic jungle journey, allow me to point on some topics and tidbits of information:
- We will be beginning this adventure 1/15/18 Monday night. Please have your level 1 standard array character prepared and ready to go on D&D Beyond. If you are using things that you don't want to pay for on D&D Beyond, that's OK - you can input as much as you can on D&D Beyond, and have a pencil and paper character sheet next to you as you play. I'm OK with either option, as some of us are unable to make the character we'd like due to some things on here you have to pay for.
- You will know the game has begun because I will post the heavy intro post Monday night. From that point on, please be active, and by that I mean you should post at least a few times a day and be an active participant in the game. If you can't, please let us know, as to not bottleneck the game.
- If you have any questions, feel free to make a comment OOC or send me a private message. Otherwise, I will assume you know how to play the game. Everyone makes mistakes, and that's ok! The most important aspect of my games is that we have fun.
It was in the early afternoon in the city of Waterdeep when you got the signal.
A day like any other. That's how you'd remember it. It was an arcane symbol appearing on your wrist by your pulse, or a chime in your ear, or a message in your mind, or the rune above the doorway turning red, or perhaps how your weapon glowed. However the signal went off - it was very clear, and you got it. You knew this day would come. You knew what it meant.
It was time to leave everything behind.
Syndra was in trouble. Deep trouble. And now it was time to return the favor. You've been waiting for this day ever since you met her. Family. Friends. Honor. Duty. Work. It didn't matter anymore. You owed a debt. And you were prepared. Prepared to answer the call. Prepared to leave it all behind.
For now.
Without looking back, you make haste to leave.
CHAPTER ONE - SYNDRA SILVANE
BALDUR'S GATE, DR 1493
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 thinning 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.
Per your instructions once receiving the call, you all have arrived at the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you i[ 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, my old friends. It is truly wonderful to see you all again. Please excuse my appearance, for I have much to tell you. And much for you to do. I'm hoping we can spend this time for you to get to know one another, and to know why I've decided to summon you all."
Not one to make a rude comment to an old friend, Clayton tips his hat, “Well, pleasure to meet y’all. The name’s Clayton Pendragon. Syndra, good to be seeing you again, in any circumstance. Honestly, I’m wondering what could be important enough to not only call me up, but the rest of these kind folks as well. I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say.” Clayton takes a seat, “Lisa says hello by the way, wanted me to tell you when I got here.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Yasei, ever the prim and proper noble, refuses a seat. Rather, she sits rigidly on the floor seiza-style (with her legs folded underneath her thighs, resting her butt on her heels)....it doesn't look very comfortable at all, but you notice she looks perfectly at ease. She looks up at Syndra with an ever-present melancholy look on her face, and in a meek voice barely above a whisper, says "Konnichi wa, Syndra-son. It has been a long time since we've seen each other. You served my father, Shōgun Ashikaga, for years as a faithful and loyal merchant. Arigatou gozaimashita. It is now time for me to repay the favor. How are you?"
An odd pair are ushered into the room. The first coming in with a flourish of color and a bounce is a three foot tall gnome, hair redder than red should be, dressed in colors and ribbons. She carries a short staff (well, as tall as she is) and the hilts of many knives and daggers peek out from her clothes. She trails colored lights and a smell of spice. She smiles round at the gathered folk, but noticeably settles when she sees Syndra. The lights fade, and her demeanor becomes more serious, yet still she approaches Syndra with a smile. "Miss Silvane, you don't know us, my brother and me, but we're here to fill the debt of a dear friend, Aseem Govind. He is well, but his age prevents him from answering your call. He is dear to us, and his friends are our friends. He bids us do what you ask, and we have pledged to him that we will."
At that she backs away respectfully, and into the legs of her brother who has come in behind her, nearly tripping... "Son of a sheep!" she yelps.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Edgerin Darkmoon glares at the attendant as he is led into the room. Taking no note of the others assembled, he makes his way to the fireplace, leans his glaive on the wall and drops his pack. Working the clasp of his cloak, you see a blood stained cloth tied around his left hand and as he turns to face Syndra, you see the red eyes of a man who doesn't sleep enough set into a chisled face. "So you'd be Syndra Silvane then. People call me Edge. Tolmara sends her regards." Edge says, the last sentence a snarl.
With the attendant hurrying in tow, a fiery elf storms into the familiar room full of unfamiliar faces. Without taking notice of the others, Shariel hurries quickly to the chair which she assumes to be her host, "Syndra, I came as fast as I could, but you nearly had be killed. I knew you had a signal should the need ever arise, but did it have to be such a splitting migraine? I nearly Stepped right into the middle of a wall! That lead you gave me was garbage, too. The shite's only knowledge of a 'Wraith' turned out to be an urban legend of a crazy man's house."
Finally sensing the feeling of being watched, Shariel turned her attention to the rest of the room, "Uhh, Syndra? I think you have some guests," whispering now, "why do you always keep such strange company?" Shariel turned to address those gatherer, "Eight walk with you. I'm called Shariel tge Zephyr." The greeting rang as a lifeless, dogmatic habit.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
An odd pair are ushered into the room. The first coming in with a flourish of color and a bounce is a three foot tall gnome, hair redder than red should be, dressed in colors and ribbons. She carries a short staff (well, as tall as she is) and the hilts of many knives and daggers peek out from her clothes. She trails colored lights and a smell of spice. She smiles round at the gathered folk, but noticeably settles when she sees Syndra. The lights fade, and her demeanor becomes more serious, yet still she approaches Syndra with a smile. "Miss Silvane, you don't know us, my brother and me, but we're here to fill the debt of a dear friend, Aseem Govind. He is well, but his age prevents him from answering your call. He is dear to us, and his friends are our friends. He bids us do what you ask, and we have pledged to him that we will."
At that she backs away respectfully, and into the legs of her brother who has come in behind her, nearly tripping... "Son of a sheep!" she yelps.
"Goat...but ya weren't far off Sis." A purple skinned tiefling says, leaning heavily on the door frame. He's got a scruffy sort of handsome look to him,with a small beard and long black hair tied up in a braid and flung over one shoulder. A pair of small horns curl off his head. His black eyes scan the room taking in the other people there and one of is pointed ears twitch slightly. dressed in a simple white shirt, left open to reveal a muscled chest and brown slacks. His only weapon seems to be a staff slung across his back. Other then that and a pan flute resting on his hip, he doesn't seem to be carrying anything of value. Looking further down one would see a pair of hooves where feet should be and a long purple tail swaying lazily behind him. He takes a swig of his flask before belching into his hands and putting it away in a side pouch. He reaches down to help right the gnome then turns to the figure.
"Like she said, we owe a great debt to fella know as Aseem Govind and he came to collect it. So here we are at your disposal." He attempts to bow to the figure, but stumbles and has to right himself on the door frame again.
“Oh!” The gnome starts. “Our manners!” She sketches a sweeping bow to the assembled, to the sounds of a tinkle of bells and a miniature trumpet fanfare, “My name is Breewyse Wintermelon, and this is my brother Maldrek, we’re just out of whatsit-port and pleased to make your acquaintances. You’re a great bunch of dour worthies, but friends of friends of... a friend of ours are...um,” she counts on her fingers to make sure she has the relationship right, “friends of ours!”
”I don’t mind if we do,” she hurries over to the wine and pours two glasses.
"Two glasses? You spoil me dear sister." Maldrek reaches out for both of the wine glasses. "But you know I prefer to drink straight from the bottle instead."
"Hey, hey, decorum! It's a big word, I know, but practice," she gives him one and uses the free hand to slap away the other, keeping her glass, then she settles demurely on a stool to listen to their host.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Maldrek pouts and lounges in the chair next to Bree's, one leg kicked up over the one of the arms. Under his breath he mumbles, "Look at me. I'm Bree. I like to use big words to confuse my brother because I'm so much smarter than he is. Really since when have you ever cared about manners."
Bree distractedly reaches over to pat Mal’s fetlock, but she seems quite fascinated by the young samurai sitting nearby, smiling broadly at her in a friendly manner if she catches her eye.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Clayton chuckles at the group that Syndra seems to have gathered. It’s always nice meeting some new folks, and these ones just might be the most interesting he’s met in years. “If y’all don’t mind my asking, how are y’all related? I mean, it doesn’t seem like it’s by blood, no offense.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM - Elustran Days ~ Fate/False Revelation
Rex'aliha - Hoard of the Dragon Queen ~ Mozu of Worms- The Stormpoint Mountains ~ Muireach Maon- Shepherd’s Crossing ~ Crownsguard - Storm King’s Thunder ~ Gunnar Wayland -Boats, Rocks, and Ruffians ~ POUF!- Ex-Ravens ~ Pascal LaRoux - Long Road Dragon Heist
Syndra participates in small talk and smiles as best she can, listening to you all interact and make introductions. With perfect timing, she finally says,
"It is good to see you all again, whom I know. And it is wonderful to make new friends of friends I have, and to catch up on time recently past. Amazing..how I know all of you, in some shape or form - yet the connection YOU all will have will be FAR more magical." She says. "And important."
"Allow me to explain to you why you are here, and what you can do for me." She walks over to a table with maps and notes. "As you all know, I was an adventurer years ago - that's how I met most of you - and was raised from the dead. I have since closed the door on that stage of my life. This..."death curse" that you all have heard rumors about is true, and it has struck me. I do not know how much longer i'll last before I perish. Clerics have no help to offer. They're stymied by what is happening. My contacts within the Harpers (SEE BELOW) 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 the jungles of Chult, far to the south. 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 been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region's current geography beyond a few miles from the coast. Working from dozens of sea charts, log books, and explorers' journals, I assembled everything known about the current state of Chult into one map (SEE CAMPAIGN PUBLIC DM NOTES)."
"This is the favor I have called you for. Your debt will be complete if you can travel to Chult, find the Soulmonger, and destroy it. It will stop the death curse from spreading. It is all up to you, my old and new friends. The entire world may be at stake here."
"I will answer any questions you might have." She says as she sits back down again.
THE HARPERS:
The Harpers is an old organization of that has risen, been shattered, and risen again several times. Its longevity and resilience are largely due to its decentralized, grassroots, secretive nature, and the near-autonomy of many of its members. The Harpers have “cells” and lone operatives throughout Faerûn, although they interact and share information with one another from time to time as needs warrant. The Harpers' ideology is noble, and its members pride themselves on their integrity and incorruptibility. Harpers do not seek power or glory, only fair and equal treatment for all.
Harper agents are trained to act alone and depend on their own resources. When they get into scrapes, they don’t count on their fellow Harpers to rescue them. Nevertheless, Harpers are dedicated to helping one another in times of need, and friendships between Harpers are nigh unbreakable. Masterful spies and infiltrators, they use various guises and secret identities to form relationships, cultivate their information networks, and manipulate others into doing what needs to be done. Although most Harpers prefer to operate in the shadows, there are exceptions.
GOALS:
To gather information throughout Faerûn, discern the political dynamics within each region or realm, and promote fairness and equality by covert means. Act openly as a last resort. Thwart tyrants and any leader, government, or group that grows too powerful, and aid the weak, the poor, and the oppressed.
"Wha?" Bree drags herself away from trying to engage the samurai and looks Clayton up and down, smiling warmly. "You don't see the resemblance? If you look really close, he's got my eyes. But I wouldn't get that close," she makes a face and waves a hand under her nose, but a smell of roses wafts Clayton's way.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Bree bounces up and heads over to the table, putting a hand up for Maldrek to lift her onto the table's edge in a practiced move. She brings her knees up and looks at the map.
"Camp Righteous?! Camp Vengeance? Whoa, someone gots issues." She looks a little further, "Oh, maybe it's this guy, 'Ataaz Muhahah.' That's a ridiculous villain stage name if I've ever heard one." Then she turns to Maldrek and says in a low, lugubrious voice, "Mwuh-hu-hu-ha-ha!" while twirling an imaginary mustache.
"Where do we ship in?" she asks Syndra.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he). Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Once everyone is done and briefed, she will teleport you all to Port Nyanzaru, the largest port and the beginning of our journey in Chult. She has a friend and contact there.
~~ PRIVATE. PLACEHOLDER. PLEASE DO NOT POST. ~~
TOMB OF ANNIHILATION COMING MONDAY 1/15/2018
Something evil is trapping the souls of the dead and draining life from all who have been raised from death by magic. This worldwide "death curse" not only prevents the raising of the dead but also causes creatures that were previously raised from the dead to wither and die. Where could be the source of this terrible death curse?
Tomb Of Annihilation is a Dungeons and Dragons adventure that takes place on the peninsula of Chult in the Forgotten Realms. This adventure will be for four to six 1st-level characters, who should advance to 11th level or higher by the adventure's conclusion.
For those that have been chosen to join me on this fantastic jungle journey, allow me to point on some topics and tidbits of information:
- We will be beginning this adventure 1/15/18 Monday night. Please have your level 1 standard array character prepared and ready to go on D&D Beyond. If you are using things that you don't want to pay for on D&D Beyond, that's OK - you can input as much as you can on D&D Beyond, and have a pencil and paper character sheet next to you as you play. I'm OK with either option, as some of us are unable to make the character we'd like due to some things on here you have to pay for.
- You will know the game has begun because I will post the heavy intro post Monday night. From that point on, please be active, and by that I mean you should post at least a few times a day and be an active participant in the game. If you can't, please let us know, as to not bottleneck the game.
- If you have any questions, feel free to make a comment OOC or send me a private message. Otherwise, I will assume you know how to play the game. Everyone makes mistakes, and that's ok! The most important aspect of my games is that we have fun.
~~ PRIVATE. PLACEHOLDER. PLEASE DO NOT POST. ~~
TOMB OF ANNIHILATION COMING MONDAY 1/15/2018
TOMB OF ANNIHILATION
PLANET TORIL, FAERUN CONTINENT, THE SWORD COAST.
PROLOGUE, DR 1493
It was in the early afternoon in the city of Waterdeep when you got the signal.
A day like any other. That's how you'd remember it. It was an arcane symbol appearing on your wrist by your pulse, or a chime in your ear, or a message in your mind, or the rune above the doorway turning red, or perhaps how your weapon glowed. However the signal went off - it was very clear, and you got it. You knew this day would come. You knew what it meant.
It was time to leave everything behind.
Syndra was in trouble. Deep trouble. And now it was time to return the favor. You've been waiting for this day ever since you met her. Family. Friends. Honor. Duty. Work. It didn't matter anymore. You owed a debt. And you were prepared. Prepared to answer the call. Prepared to leave it all behind.
For now.
Without looking back, you make haste to leave.
CHAPTER ONE - SYNDRA SILVANE
BALDUR'S GATE, DR 1493
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 thinning 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.
Per your instructions once receiving the call, you all have arrived at the home of Syndra Silvane, a retired adventurer and merchant. A uniformed attendant leads you i[ 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, my old friends. It is truly wonderful to see you all again. Please excuse my appearance, for I have much to tell you. And much for you to do. I'm hoping we can spend this time for you to get to know one another, and to know why I've decided to summon you all."
Syndra.
Not one to make a rude comment to an old friend, Clayton tips his hat, “Well, pleasure to meet y’all. The name’s Clayton Pendragon. Syndra, good to be seeing you again, in any circumstance. Honestly, I’m wondering what could be important enough to not only call me up, but the rest of these kind folks as well. I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say.” Clayton takes a seat, “Lisa says hello by the way, wanted me to tell you when I got here.”
DM - Elustran Days ~ Fate/False Revelation
Rex'aliha - Hoard of the Dragon Queen ~ Mozu of Worms - The Stormpoint Mountains ~ Muireach Maon - Shepherd’s Crossing ~ Crownsguard - Storm King’s Thunder ~ Gunnar Wayland - Boats, Rocks, and Ruffians ~ POUF! - Ex-Ravens ~ Pascal LaRoux - Long Road Dragon Heist
Yasei, ever the prim and proper noble, refuses a seat. Rather, she sits rigidly on the floor seiza-style (with her legs folded underneath her thighs, resting her butt on her heels)....it doesn't look very comfortable at all, but you notice she looks perfectly at ease. She looks up at Syndra with an ever-present melancholy look on her face, and in a meek voice barely above a whisper, says "Konnichi wa, Syndra-son. It has been a long time since we've seen each other. You served my father, Shōgun Ashikaga, for years as a faithful and loyal merchant. Arigatou gozaimashita. It is now time for me to repay the favor. How are you?"
Insight: 20 Anything?
Last to know and first to be blamed...
As a free action, can I regret my life choices?
An odd pair are ushered into the room. The first coming in with a flourish of color and a bounce is a three foot tall gnome, hair redder than red should be, dressed in colors and ribbons. She carries a short staff (well, as tall as she is) and the hilts of many knives and daggers peek out from her clothes. She trails colored lights and a smell of spice. She smiles round at the gathered folk, but noticeably settles when she sees Syndra. The lights fade, and her demeanor becomes more serious, yet still she approaches Syndra with a smile. "Miss Silvane, you don't know us, my brother and me, but we're here to fill the debt of a dear friend, Aseem Govind. He is well, but his age prevents him from answering your call. He is dear to us, and his friends are our friends. He bids us do what you ask, and we have pledged to him that we will."
At that she backs away respectfully, and into the legs of her brother who has come in behind her, nearly tripping... "Son of a sheep!" she yelps.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Edgerin Darkmoon glares at the attendant as he is led into the room. Taking no note of the others assembled, he makes his way to the fireplace, leans his glaive on the wall and drops his pack. Working the clasp of his cloak, you see a blood stained cloth tied around his left hand and as he turns to face Syndra, you see the red eyes of a man who doesn't sleep enough set into a chisled face.
"So you'd be Syndra Silvane then. People call me Edge. Tolmara sends her regards." Edge says, the last sentence a snarl.
With the attendant hurrying in tow, a fiery elf storms into the familiar room full of unfamiliar faces. Without taking notice of the others, Shariel hurries quickly to the chair which she assumes to be her host, "Syndra, I came as fast as I could, but you nearly had be killed. I knew you had a signal should the need ever arise, but did it have to be such a splitting migraine? I nearly Stepped right into the middle of a wall! That lead you gave me was garbage, too. The shite's only knowledge of a 'Wraith' turned out to be an urban legend of a crazy man's house."
Finally sensing the feeling of being watched, Shariel turned her attention to the rest of the room, "Uhh, Syndra? I think you have some guests," whispering now, "why do you always keep such strange company?" Shariel turned to address those gatherer, "Eight walk with you. I'm called Shariel tge Zephyr." The greeting rang as a lifeless, dogmatic habit.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“Oh!” The gnome starts. “Our manners!” She sketches a sweeping bow to the assembled, to the sounds of a tinkle of bells and a miniature trumpet fanfare, “My name is Breewyse Wintermelon, and this is my brother Maldrek, we’re just out of whatsit-port and pleased to make your acquaintances. You’re a great bunch of dour worthies, but friends of friends of... a friend of ours are...um,” she counts on her fingers to make sure she has the relationship right, “friends of ours!”
”I don’t mind if we do,” she hurries over to the wine and pours two glasses.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
"Two glasses? You spoil me dear sister." Maldrek reaches out for both of the wine glasses. "But you know I prefer to drink straight from the bottle instead."
"Hey, hey, decorum! It's a big word, I know, but practice," she gives him one and uses the free hand to slap away the other, keeping her glass, then she settles demurely on a stool to listen to their host.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Maldrek pouts and lounges in the chair next to Bree's, one leg kicked up over the one of the arms. Under his breath he mumbles, "Look at me. I'm Bree. I like to use big words to confuse my brother because I'm so much smarter than he is. Really since when have you ever cared about manners."
Bree distractedly reaches over to pat Mal’s fetlock, but she seems quite fascinated by the young samurai sitting nearby, smiling broadly at her in a friendly manner if she catches her eye.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Clayton chuckles at the group that Syndra seems to have gathered. It’s always nice meeting some new folks, and these ones just might be the most interesting he’s met in years. “If y’all don’t mind my asking, how are y’all related? I mean, it doesn’t seem like it’s by blood, no offense.”
DM - Elustran Days ~ Fate/False Revelation
Rex'aliha - Hoard of the Dragon Queen ~ Mozu of Worms - The Stormpoint Mountains ~ Muireach Maon - Shepherd’s Crossing ~ Crownsguard - Storm King’s Thunder ~ Gunnar Wayland - Boats, Rocks, and Ruffians ~ POUF! - Ex-Ravens ~ Pascal LaRoux - Long Road Dragon Heist
Syndra participates in small talk and smiles as best she can, listening to you all interact and make introductions. With perfect timing, she finally says,
"It is good to see you all again, whom I know. And it is wonderful to make new friends of friends I have, and to catch up on time recently past. Amazing..how I know all of you, in some shape or form - yet the connection YOU all will have will be FAR more magical." She says. "And important."
"Allow me to explain to you why you are here, and what you can do for me." She walks over to a table with maps and notes. "As you all know, I was an adventurer years ago - that's how I met most of you - and was raised from the dead. I have since closed the door on that stage of my life. This..."death curse" that you all have heard rumors about is true, and it has struck me. I do not know how much longer i'll last before I perish. Clerics have no help to offer. They're stymied by what is happening. My contacts within the Harpers (SEE BELOW) 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 the jungles of Chult, far to the south. 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 been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region's current geography beyond a few miles from the coast. Working from dozens of sea charts, log books, and explorers' journals, I assembled everything known about the current state of Chult into one map (SEE CAMPAIGN PUBLIC DM NOTES)."
"This is the favor I have called you for. Your debt will be complete if you can travel to Chult, find the Soulmonger, and destroy it. It will stop the death curse from spreading. It is all up to you, my old and new friends. The entire world may be at stake here."
"I will answer any questions you might have." She says as she sits back down again.
THE HARPERS:
The Harpers is an old organization of that has risen, been shattered, and risen again several times. Its longevity and resilience are largely due to its decentralized, grassroots, secretive nature, and the near-autonomy of many of its members. The Harpers have “cells” and lone operatives throughout Faerûn, although they interact and share information with one another from time to time as needs warrant. The Harpers' ideology is noble, and its members pride themselves on their integrity and incorruptibility. Harpers do not seek power or glory, only fair and equal treatment for all.
Harper agents are trained to act alone and depend on their own resources. When they get into scrapes, they don’t count on their fellow Harpers to rescue them. Nevertheless, Harpers are dedicated to helping one another in times of need, and friendships between Harpers are nigh unbreakable. Masterful spies and infiltrators, they use various guises and secret identities to form relationships, cultivate their information networks, and manipulate others into doing what needs to be done. Although most Harpers prefer to operate in the shadows, there are exceptions.
GOALS:
To gather information throughout Faerûn, discern the political dynamics within each region or realm, and promote fairness and equality by covert means. Act openly as a last resort. Thwart tyrants and any leader, government, or group that grows too powerful, and aid the weak, the poor, and the oppressed.
"Wha?" Bree drags herself away from trying to engage the samurai and looks Clayton up and down, smiling warmly. "You don't see the resemblance? If you look really close, he's got my eyes. But I wouldn't get that close," she makes a face and waves a hand under her nose, but a smell of roses wafts Clayton's way.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
As Clayton is listening, he waves his hand and the smell of bacon wafts Bree’s way. “I see. So, how are we getting to this ‘Chult?’ Boat?”
DM - Elustran Days ~ Fate/False Revelation
Rex'aliha - Hoard of the Dragon Queen ~ Mozu of Worms - The Stormpoint Mountains ~ Muireach Maon - Shepherd’s Crossing ~ Crownsguard - Storm King’s Thunder ~ Gunnar Wayland - Boats, Rocks, and Ruffians ~ POUF! - Ex-Ravens ~ Pascal LaRoux - Long Road Dragon Heist
Bree bounces up and heads over to the table, putting a hand up for Maldrek to lift her onto the table's edge in a practiced move. She brings her knees up and looks at the map.
"Camp Righteous?! Camp Vengeance? Whoa, someone gots issues." She looks a little further, "Oh, maybe it's this guy, 'Ataaz Muhahah.' That's a ridiculous villain stage name if I've ever heard one." Then she turns to Maldrek and says in a low, lugubrious voice, "Mwuh-hu-hu-ha-ha!" while twirling an imaginary mustache.
"Where do we ship in?" she asks Syndra.
ey/em/eirs, or they/them works, too (just not he).
Role-playing since that keep on those borderlands. I love it so.
Once everyone is done and briefed, she will teleport you all to Port Nyanzaru, the largest port and the beginning of our journey in Chult. She has a friend and contact there.