It was merely three days ago that you received the fateful letter. Delivered via falcon to your personal residence, inside lay a written invitation that was more a work of art than missive, enticing you with the promise of planar riches beyond imagination. Had the signature scrawled magnificently at the bottom been other than Dalia Concordat, known for bringing untold wealth with a mere touch, you would have considered it an intricate prank. However, few would dare to forge such a signature, and fewer still would refuse a direct invitation from the woman herself From what little you know of Dalia, those wishing an audience must beg for the privilege of being added to a five-year-long waiting list of hopefuls.
The Letter
Scrawled in impeccable handwriting, the letter came wrapped in an envelope made of whisper-thin adamantine, and is itself written upon paper that smells and feels like the still-living tree it was cut from. It reads:
Noble champions,
It is with the warmest of regards that I extend to you my personal invitation to the Isle of Paradise, with intentions to discuss a business proposition, the details of which are only fit for divulging at my residence. Your deeds and accomplishments are as lengthy as they are legendary, so I am certain we can work out an arrangement to our mutual satisfaction. To that end, you are to meet my attendant Caravas at midday upon the sands of White Turtle Beach; he will answer any initial questions you may have and escort you aboard my private yacht. He will also have further discourse with you whilst you travel, and I expect you will find the journey most pleasant. I look forward to making your personal acquaintance. As a show of good faith, I offer you these passes to visit my island at your leisure for a full year, which only a privileged few are able to afford at any point in their lifetimes.
Warmest regards,
Dalia Concordat, High Financier of Seven Worlds There is a pass to her island for each of you.
You all make what preparations are needed, then journey to the rendezvous site to meet with Dana's personal yacht, THE PROMISE OF WEALTH
Dalia's yacht, The Promise of Wealth, is the very definition of excessive luxury. Crafted from the wood of ancient ents, and set with an adamantine gold alloy, each element of the ship, from its sails to its deck, is a work of art. The ship is cut with intricate designs by skilled hands, and you can't help but feel woefully underdressed, no matter how great your personal wealth. At the prow of the magnificent craft, straight-backed and regal, stands Caravas, a famous Erinyes Devil lawyer (History check, DC 20 to learn his background), who gazes with furrowed brow across the sea, clearly lost in thought.
The lanky figure that was Stalker strode briskly up the gang plank and onto the ship. His body moved with a fluid grace that was almost too-quick for a mortal being. Many would question if Stalker was mortal, his warforged body made of metal, and nothing about him flesh or bone. His chassy was ebony black and he had a variety of weapons attached about him. A massive greatsword was sheathed across his back, with a longbow over the other shoulder. A handaxe, javelin, net, and quiver of arrows held other spots on his frame. A ring circled one of his fingers and he had mithral-frame goggles with clear diamond lenses. The boots on his feet included designs of wings along the sides.
A cloud of mist coalesces into a humanoid shape and looks like a dark elf. He nods at the people there, looks up at the clear sky and sits down to burn a little something-something in a jar. After a while a little cloud cover starts to form and he relaxes in a cool shade. (cast control weather to get out of direct sunlight)
Jaro Alleyborn walks hesitantly onto the ship, looking uneasily at the water. A tall, blue eyed, middle aged, bald man, he looks almost out of place amongst a group of adventurers like these, wearing an almost colorless grey cloak over a black robe set with silver stars, open slightly to reveal very well-made clothing and a set of pouches on his belt, and what looks like very fine metallic gloves he looks more like a wealthy merchant than an adventurer. However, those who know him, know he grew up in the slums and fought, and built, his way out gaining quite a name for himself, and he is now semi-retired, running an orphanage where he teaches his skills to others like himself.
With his heavy deliberate footsteps, the towering man clad in his usual dark armor walks on to the gangplank. The near 7ft tall guard captain has a slightly tired look about him. He holds his tower shield strongly in one hand while his long sword hangs from his magical belt. Jown Sno stands off to one side as he waits for the other guests to arrive on to the yacht. He did not really want to answer the invite for he would be gone for a few days and he would be away from his duties. However, the other members of the guard had convinced him to go on the trip as it might be just what the aging paladin needed to relax after the hectic incident in the woods involving the Wendigo. Perhaps they were right and he could really use a rest. He was getting close to an age where he would retire though he was not sure if he was ready to settle down yet.
A very hairy man with beastial features walks slowly along the beach. His hands folded behind his back as he strode along. He wore a simple brown robe but it faintly shimmered denoting it being fashioned from fine silk. Though the most notable feature may have been the purplish crown adorn with jewls that sat upon his head. Finally reaching the others he gave a sligbt bow of his head then took a relaxed position staring off into the ocean.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
History: 21
Raist laughing at something unheard, joins the others on the deck of the ship, waving and walking up to those he already knows and nodding at the newcomers. The halfling is short and slim of build wearing simple traveling garb for now. Addressing no one in particular, "Well this adventure should prove interesting, anyone have an idea of what Miss Dalia might have need of the lot of us?"
Two small figures careen towards the boat. Several onlookers jerk back at seeing them but they are in complete control on flying brooms. The second figure doesn't pay attention to anyone but the first lands and looks around with confidence. The redheaded gnome has a cloak that billows in the wind and beautiful clothing. Under the cloak is a wondrous silken black and white robe that sets him off as classically arcanist and intimidatingly knowledgeable. "As usual I have my second with me. I hope no one minds." Nodding towards the other figure who looks just like him but without the beautiful robe. "Not sure what this is all about but we aren't adventurers to be messed with so let's face it head on!"
A tiefling wearing black and silver half plate and with a halberd rested against his shoulder walks up the gangplank and onto the ship. Malus looks at the others on the ship and nods at them in greeting. His armor and weapon are both finely crafted and have decorative features reminiscent of a raven, paying homage to his patron. "Anyone have any idea what this is about?" he asks looking at the others.
Those who made the DC20 History check can read the below:
The Legend of Caravas
Known as an exceptional lawyer for interplanar legal systems and contracts, Caravas first made his name acting as an advocate for a trio of death knights known as the Forsaken Triad, arguing that they had been wrongfully punished for breaking their oaths. Finding a loophole in the oaths taken by the three former paladins, Caravas appealed to the deities of justice from across the planes to force the paladins' patrons to forgive their sins and restore their souls. So persistent and persuasive was Caravas, that he was able to begrudgingly demonstrate how the gods of good and law had created a flawed oath, forcing them to forgive their former champions, who promptly went on a vengeful killing spree against the followers of those who had wronged them. After several more successful high profile cases, Caravas was contacted by Dalia and was soon put on retainer as her personal contract negotiator and financial attendant.
Caravas and his crew wait patiently for over an hour for the players to make any necessary preparations for their journey. The hobgoblin crew in particular are a swarthy bunch with surprisingly good manners, standing at attention when the players approach and offering them the finest vittles and beverages should they express need over the course of the journey. Caravas himself is patient, knowing beings of such strength and intelligence are often eccentric and "prickly," and he will take great care to learn the players' mannerisms and preferences.
Stalker nods to the others as they arrive. He would move over to stand near Jown as soon as the man arrived. "I heard you guys had some interesting time at Maximar's cabin." The warforge would state as he took up a position next to him. He nods to the figure of Caravas. "What do you think he's about?"
Jown Sno approaches his comrades from many a previous journey, Raist and Gilra. He says, "Raist, Gilra, how have you been my friends? I haven't seen you since the incident at Maximar's cabin. I assume you have received the invite too. Do you know if any of our other friends would join us on this journey?"
EDIT: ninja'd
Jown turns to the warforged and says, "I guess you could say we did. As for Caravas, he seems a bit... observant? but I am not one to judge. May I ask, how do you know of Maximar?"
Gilra says, "It's been a shitstorm. Literally. I was trying to explore the plane of Pandemonium. It decided to crap on me. For three weeks. I'm a patient man, but even I have my limits. I can ... show you." He waves his hand and turns into a centiturd. It seems to wave about a third of its appendages at everyone at once and then turns back into Gilra. He just shrugs after that.
Jown Sno says half-jokingly, "Always something interesting with you, yes? Meanwhile I've been working at the Guard as per usual. Little worried I'm getting too old."
"Are you going senile in your old age Jown?" Stalker asks with an approximation of a half-smile as he glances to the other warrior. "I believe you and I were training at Maximar's place together about 30 years back. Just prior to when that issue with the four elemental cults drew me away to do some work in the Sumber Hills."
"I heard about the incident as well, but I was otherwise preoccupied with business in the Shadowfell," Malus says looking over the other members of the group, most of which he hadn't seen in about a decade.
Jaro will nod a greeting at the others from his spot away from the edges of the boat, “I hear Maximar is healing nicely from his injuries. Sorry I couldn’t be there, I didn’t get his message until weeks later. Busy dealing with some trouble under the city, bunch of stirges and trolls got themselves mutated after exposure to some powerful magics if you can believe it. Are we all here, can we go yet? And why a boat? You’d think we could just teleport there...”
Perdan continued to stare out over the wafter listening to the others. "Could be where we are going js warded against transportation and we can only get close in a boat." He shrugs his shoulders and "could be we are to just arrive in style."
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It was merely three days ago that you received the fateful letter. Delivered via falcon to your personal residence, inside lay a written invitation that was more a work of art than missive, enticing you with the promise of planar riches beyond imagination. Had the signature scrawled magnificently at the bottom been other than Dalia Concordat, known for bringing untold wealth with a mere touch, you would have considered it an intricate prank. However, few would dare to forge such a signature, and fewer still would refuse a direct invitation from the woman herself From what little you know of Dalia, those wishing an audience must beg for the privilege of being added to a five-year-long waiting list of hopefuls.
The Letter
Scrawled in impeccable handwriting, the letter came wrapped in an envelope made of whisper-thin adamantine, and is itself written upon paper that smells and feels like the still-living tree it was cut from. It reads:
Noble champions,
It is with the warmest of regards that I extend to you my personal invitation to the Isle of Paradise, with intentions to discuss a business proposition, the details of which are only fit for divulging at my residence. Your deeds and accomplishments are as lengthy as they are legendary, so I am certain we can work out an arrangement to our mutual satisfaction. To that end, you are to meet my attendant Caravas at midday upon the sands of White Turtle Beach; he will answer any initial questions you may have and escort you aboard my private yacht. He will also have further discourse with you whilst you travel, and I expect you will find the journey most pleasant. I look forward to making your personal acquaintance. As a show of good faith, I offer you these passes to visit my island at your leisure for a full year, which only a privileged few are able to afford at any point in their lifetimes.
Warmest regards,
Dalia Concordat, High Financier of Seven Worlds
There is a pass to her island for each of you.
You all make what preparations are needed, then journey to the rendezvous site to meet with Dana's personal yacht, THE PROMISE OF WEALTH
Dalia's yacht, The Promise of Wealth, is the very definition of excessive luxury. Crafted from the wood of ancient ents, and set with an adamantine gold alloy, each element of the ship, from its sails to its deck, is a work of art. The ship is cut with intricate designs by skilled hands, and you can't help but feel woefully underdressed, no matter how great your personal wealth. At the prow of the magnificent craft, straight-backed and regal, stands Caravas, a famous Erinyes Devil lawyer (History check, DC 20 to learn his background), who gazes with furrowed brow across the sea, clearly lost in thought.
The lanky figure that was Stalker strode briskly up the gang plank and onto the ship. His body moved with a fluid grace that was almost too-quick for a mortal being. Many would question if Stalker was mortal, his warforged body made of metal, and nothing about him flesh or bone. His chassy was ebony black and he had a variety of weapons attached about him. A massive greatsword was sheathed across his back, with a longbow over the other shoulder. A handaxe, javelin, net, and quiver of arrows held other spots on his frame. A ring circled one of his fingers and he had mithral-frame goggles with clear diamond lenses. The boots on his feet included designs of wings along the sides.
-- Gilra
A cloud of mist coalesces into a humanoid shape and looks like a dark elf. He nods at the people there, looks up at the clear sky and sits down to burn a little something-something in a jar. After a while a little cloud cover starts to form and he relaxes in a cool shade. (cast control weather to get out of direct sunlight)
Jaro Alleyborn walks hesitantly onto the ship, looking uneasily at the water. A tall, blue eyed, middle aged, bald man, he looks almost out of place amongst a group of adventurers like these, wearing an almost colorless grey cloak over a black robe set with silver stars, open slightly to reveal very well-made clothing and a set of pouches on his belt, and what looks like very fine metallic gloves he looks more like a wealthy merchant than an adventurer. However, those who know him, know he grew up in the slums and fought, and built, his way out gaining quite a name for himself, and he is now semi-retired, running an orphanage where he teaches his skills to others like himself.
With his heavy deliberate footsteps, the towering man clad in his usual dark armor walks on to the gangplank. The near 7ft tall guard captain has a slightly tired look about him. He holds his tower shield strongly in one hand while his long sword hangs from his magical belt. Jown Sno stands off to one side as he waits for the other guests to arrive on to the yacht. He did not really want to answer the invite for he would be gone for a few days and he would be away from his duties. However, the other members of the guard had convinced him to go on the trip as it might be just what the aging paladin needed to relax after the hectic incident in the woods involving the Wendigo. Perhaps they were right and he could really use a rest. He was getting close to an age where he would retire though he was not sure if he was ready to settle down yet.
A very hairy man with beastial features walks slowly along the beach. His hands folded behind his back as he strode along. He wore a simple brown robe but it faintly shimmered denoting it being fashioned from fine silk. Though the most notable feature may have been the purplish crown adorn with jewls that sat upon his head. Finally reaching the others he gave a sligbt bow of his head then took a relaxed position staring off into the ocean.
History: 21
Raist laughing at something unheard, joins the others on the deck of the ship, waving and walking up to those he already knows and nodding at the newcomers. The halfling is short and slim of build wearing simple traveling garb for now. Addressing no one in particular, "Well this adventure should prove interesting, anyone have an idea of what Miss Dalia might have need of the lot of us?"
(History roll, forgot it earlier: 20)
Jaro would nod to the halfling, "I'm not too sure, but with the group already here, it could be very interesting, dangerous or both."
Two small figures careen towards the boat. Several onlookers jerk back at seeing them but they are in complete control on flying brooms. The second figure doesn't pay attention to anyone but the first lands and looks around with confidence. The redheaded gnome has a cloak that billows in the wind and beautiful clothing. Under the cloak is a wondrous silken black and white robe that sets him off as classically arcanist and intimidatingly knowledgeable. "As usual I have my second with me. I hope no one minds." Nodding towards the other figure who looks just like him but without the beautiful robe. "Not sure what this is all about but we aren't adventurers to be messed with so let's face it head on!"
Lot's of stuff ...
A tiefling wearing black and silver half plate and with a halberd rested against his shoulder walks up the gangplank and onto the ship. Malus looks at the others on the ship and nods at them in greeting. His armor and weapon are both finely crafted and have decorative features reminiscent of a raven, paying homage to his patron. "Anyone have any idea what this is about?" he asks looking at the others.
Those who made the DC20 History check can read the below:
The Legend of Caravas
Known as an exceptional lawyer for interplanar legal systems and contracts, Caravas first made his name acting as an advocate for a trio of death knights known as the Forsaken Triad, arguing that they had been wrongfully punished for breaking their oaths. Finding a loophole in the oaths taken by the three former paladins, Caravas appealed to the deities of justice from across the planes to force the paladins' patrons to forgive their sins and restore their souls. So persistent and persuasive was Caravas, that he was able to begrudgingly demonstrate how the gods of good and law had created a flawed oath, forcing them to forgive their former champions, who promptly went on a vengeful killing spree against the followers of those who had wronged them. After several more successful high profile cases, Caravas was contacted by Dalia and was soon put on retainer as her personal contract negotiator and financial attendant.
Caravas and his crew wait patiently for over an hour for the players to make any necessary preparations for their journey. The hobgoblin crew in particular are a swarthy bunch with surprisingly good manners, standing at attention when the players approach and offering them the finest vittles and beverages should they express need over the course of the journey. Caravas himself is patient, knowing beings of such strength and intelligence are often eccentric and "prickly," and he will take great care to learn the players' mannerisms and preferences.
Stalker nods to the others as they arrive. He would move over to stand near Jown as soon as the man arrived. "I heard you guys had some interesting time at Maximar's cabin." The warforge would state as he took up a position next to him. He nods to the figure of Caravas. "What do you think he's about?"
Jown Sno approaches his comrades from many a previous journey, Raist and Gilra. He says, "Raist, Gilra, how have you been my friends? I haven't seen you since the incident at Maximar's cabin. I assume you have received the invite too. Do you know if any of our other friends would join us on this journey?"
EDIT: ninja'd
Jown turns to the warforged and says, "I guess you could say we did. As for Caravas, he seems a bit... observant? but I am not one to judge. May I ask, how do you know of Maximar?"
Gilra says, "It's been a shitstorm. Literally. I was trying to explore the plane of Pandemonium. It decided to crap on me. For three weeks. I'm a patient man, but even I have my limits. I can ... show you." He waves his hand and turns into a centiturd. It seems to wave about a third of its appendages at everyone at once and then turns back into Gilra. He just shrugs after that.
Jown Sno says half-jokingly, "Always something interesting with you, yes? Meanwhile I've been working at the Guard as per usual. Little worried I'm getting too old."
"Are you going senile in your old age Jown?" Stalker asks with an approximation of a half-smile as he glances to the other warrior. "I believe you and I were training at Maximar's place together about 30 years back. Just prior to when that issue with the four elemental cults drew me away to do some work in the Sumber Hills."
"I heard about the incident as well, but I was otherwise preoccupied with business in the Shadowfell," Malus says looking over the other members of the group, most of which he hadn't seen in about a decade.
Jaro will nod a greeting at the others from his spot away from the edges of the boat, “I hear Maximar is healing nicely from his injuries. Sorry I couldn’t be there, I didn’t get his message until weeks later. Busy dealing with some trouble under the city, bunch of stirges and trolls got themselves mutated after exposure to some powerful magics if you can believe it. Are we all here, can we go yet? And why a boat? You’d think we could just teleport there...”
Perdan continued to stare out over the wafter listening to the others. "Could be where we are going js warded against transportation and we can only get close in a boat." He shrugs his shoulders and "could be we are to just arrive in style."