The Kingdom of Interalia sits squarely between the Realm of The Jotun to the north, and the Draconic Satrapies to the south. The Kingdom is further bounded by The Great Sea to the west, and the Iron Mountains immediately serve as a natural boundary, beyond which lay The Infinite Desert, which was once a mighty civilization until its mages' experimentation with magic brought about unending droughts and desertification.
You have been accused and convicted of the crime of lese majeste, as you have been critical of the Grand Ducon, the ruler of Interalia. Tiresias, Grand Vizier of the Ducon, has asked that your sentences of hard labor in the mines of the Iron Mountains be commuted on the condition that you render 12 months of service as retainers in the court of The Grand Ducon.
One dark and stormy night, you find yourself called to Naseem's tower on a matter of utmost urgency...
As the guards usher you into the first floor of the tower, you see a room with leather divans lining the curved walls of the circular room. A firepit in the center of the room radiates heat, the smoke rising up a brass chimney that penetrates the ceiling some 20 feet above the floor. A lean man wearing a red silken robe with a white turban tends the fire, stroking his gray beard. He looks up at with you with eyes that have dark bags under them, his lack of sleep evident. Upon sight of your party, he purses his lips and starts to speak before a fit of coughing forces him to produce a linen handkerchief with which he covers his mouth.
"Guards, you are dismissed. Thank you."
Waiting a moment for the guards' footsteps to fade as they march away, the old man smiles warmly at each of you, his teeth shining like ivory. He points at a portrait of the Grand Ducon, Stultus XXIX, which hangs from a wire mount ten feet above the cobblestone floor which is covered by fine rugs. The portrait looks like this:
"I can hardly blame you for making jokes at the boy's expense. I am Naseem, Grand Vizier to his majesty, and I was standing exactly where you are now, being told exactly the same thing by Sjefen, my predecessor, Grand Vizier to Baka XIV, who was put in the same circumstances by Lao Ren, and so it has been for generations. The kingdom of Interalia is diverse. Our country is home to people of every creed and color, united by a common language and a 'reverence' for the royal family, including our Grand Ducon."
The man takes a moment to look at the portrait, his eyes fixated upon the protruding lower jaw of the Grand Ducon. He stifles a laugh before continuing, but his coughing succeeds in interrupting him despite his best efforts.
"Truth to tell, the royal family's peculiar practice of marrying close relatives has left the kingdom with imbeciles for monarchs. Don't worry, we can speak freely here. The Office of the Grand Vizier has existed lo these many centuries to govern the kingdom while the kings and queens make public speeches (usually compelled and guided by our court wizards) to keep our military strong, our borders secure, and to make Interalia great again after whatever catastrophe has befallen the state, be it a renegade dragon raid from the satrapies to the south, a giant fanatic warband from the north, sahuagin menacing our ports to the west, or the drow blooding their bravos on a caravan from the Iron Mountains. The sad reality is that most of the plebes rally around the monarchs we have carefully used to act as our messengers. Accordingly, my predecessors long ago saw the need to prohibit any public criticism of the sovereign idiot sitting on the throne lest our people lose their appetite for shouting "For Crown and Country!" as they stick spears into whatever neighbor happens to threaten us at the moment. As an unexpected but now recognized benefit, the prohibition of criticizing the crown has helped identify those who are best suited to aid the government: those who have the good sense and spine to name this charade for what it is. You, yes, all of you, are who we can depend on in these times."
"There have been reports of disturbances in the capital's catacombs. We don't want to cause a panic, but there are reports of ossuaries being disturbed, and most recently, a priestess has gone missing. The paladins and clerics of our temples and churches have been dispatched to assist in quelling a demonic invasion near the Iron Mountains, and can not be recalled fast enough to deal with this threat. We need you to investigate and recover the priest if at all possible. At least let us know her fate."
“And of course, the kingdom has always had its ‘stalwarts’ who seldom detect the slights of their humble intellects. Welcome, Connard. I suspect your friends will keep you at the front when facing the fiercest foes.”
Stooped Connard laughs: « Ha! And if they don’t push me, even my own friends might survive. See, I have anger management issues. But I’m working on it. It’s a new kind of treatment called Decapitatherapy. »
In a thick Russian accent (Ya ****ers, there's a voice) Rhogar steps forward: "Is good that you have called upon us to help. We will go and find the priestess or what is left her dah."
Lyoko's Lion like face shows signs of relief and understanding, "When I arrived in this land I knew there had to forces at work that went unnoticed by its denizens... How else could it have stood so long? While I do not agree with many of the laws and traditions of this land, I'd fight for as opposed be imprisoned by it. You have 12 months of my service and I will fight for this Ducon with honor, even if he has none." He pulls down his visor and makes ready his shield.
Folsorm keeps looking at the portrait of the Grand Ducon, shakes his head and says "I said it before, and I'll say it again, that kid looks like a gods be damned ******"
He looks at the vizier, "However, I do care about the people of this land, and this priestess, um, not to be indelicate, on a scale of 1 to 10, is she at least a 5?" He laughs and looks around at his new companions. "Regardless, it's better than working in the mines, I'm in, let's go save this priestess"
"Ah yes, Irulan." Naseem head cocks to the side and he tilts his chin upward, looking at the ceiling, his lips curling in a smile. "Suffice it to say there was a lively debate within the temple as to whether she would better serve the temple as a chaste priestess of the Eternal Dawn or as a model for the statuary being sculpted which celebrates the female form. Leave it to Irulan to pose for the sculptors before taking the mantle as a priestess. She had the sagacity to make sure the temple is filled weekly with more male devotees than ever."
"Aside from being the only other living thing in the catacombs, or so I hope, Irulan will be recognizable by her vestments. Be forewarned, the catacombs are older than memory and labyrinthine in nature. Be sure to take torches, rations, water, and take some time to pray to whomever will keep you from getting lost or worse down in that moldy necropolis. Time is of the essence, and we can not tarry. Discretion is paramount: therefore, we will have you enter the catacombs through a drainage canal that has a locked gate to an access tunnel connecting the sewer to the catacombs. The tunnel has not been used for decades. I know not what may have taken to roost there."
Naseem points his finger at the wooden door and speaks: "Otho, I have informed "his majesty's court" [snorting snicker] of their task. Bring them a key to the tunnel gate as well as their torches, rations, and water, and escort them to the storm sewers so they can enter the necropolis through the adjoining tunnel."
A few moments later, the guards who escorted you to the tower have returned, bearing 5 torches and 3 days' rations for each of you. They take you to the drainage tunnel's entrance just outside of town under cover of the dark and rain. "Good luck!", whispers a red-bearded Otho. "For the Ducon!" He giggles as he walks away.
« Thank you, for the Ducon ! » though Stoopeed really meant it, oblivious to the vizeer’s snarl, stomping his chest (well..his man boobs) with his fist. He places rations and torches into his backpack and checks his weapons one more time before saying. « Let’s go companions. Our watch begins.
Dirt shakes his head with disbelief as the conversation unfolds. A couple of times he attempts to meekly raise his hand or garner the Vicar's attention, but only sighs when they are summarily dismissed to head into the catacombs. Looking to the closest of his new allies, he mutters, "I think I'm in the wrong room. I was looking for the, um, facilities. Surely, um, you've all got this right?" He begins to walk in a different direction until he comes into the gaze of one of the guards. "Er, um. Oh, yes. This way, um...," adding weakly, "for Ducon." He follows the others.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd) Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist) Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
The sewer drain canal looms before you. It has a slight incline from where you are, the canal being five feet wide, with a trough in the center. A steady stream of . The stench of trash, mildew, and offal fill your nostrils. Water sluices into the canal from the gutters of the street above, creating a briskly moving stream of water that is 1 foot deep. The canal is traversible by foot, and there are stone catwalks on both sides that run parallel to the canal, which is 10 feet above the canal's trough. There is no source of light, and you can only see about 15 feet into the canal. What do you do?
Occ: the torches give us only 5’more of light. Correct? also: Stoopeed doesn’t like pee water and wants to climb on the catwalk.
The torches provide normal light for torches. Whatever the PHB says. I just wanted you to be aware what the canal looked like at its opening where there is enough ambient light to let you see its general features.
You can freely climb onto the catwalk unless I say otherwise.
The Kingdom of Interalia sits squarely between the Realm of The Jotun to the north, and the Draconic Satrapies to the south. The Kingdom is further bounded by The Great Sea to the west, and the Iron Mountains immediately serve as a natural boundary, beyond which lay The Infinite Desert, which was once a mighty civilization until its mages' experimentation with magic brought about unending droughts and desertification.
You have been accused and convicted of the crime of lese majeste, as you have been critical of the Grand Ducon, the ruler of Interalia. Tiresias, Grand Vizier of the Ducon, has asked that your sentences of hard labor in the mines of the Iron Mountains be commuted on the condition that you render 12 months of service as retainers in the court of The Grand Ducon.
One dark and stormy night, you find yourself called to Naseem's tower on a matter of utmost urgency...
Ready (Simon)
As the guards usher you into the first floor of the tower, you see a room with leather divans lining the curved walls of the circular room. A firepit in the center of the room radiates heat, the smoke rising up a brass chimney that penetrates the ceiling some 20 feet above the floor. A lean man wearing a red silken robe with a white turban tends the fire, stroking his gray beard. He looks up at with you with eyes that have dark bags under them, his lack of sleep evident. Upon sight of your party, he purses his lips and starts to speak before a fit of coughing forces him to produce a linen handkerchief with which he covers his mouth.
"Guards, you are dismissed. Thank you."
Waiting a moment for the guards' footsteps to fade as they march away, the old man smiles warmly at each of you, his teeth shining like ivory. He points at a portrait of the Grand Ducon, Stultus XXIX, which hangs from a wire mount ten feet above the cobblestone floor which is covered by fine rugs. The portrait looks like this:
https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=Gk4aon8Q&id=FEA2E22C98FC16D9FDAC9008FF00CFAC699C9866&thid=OIP.Gk4aon8QzuIwMkqQ6z1uMgHaEw&mediaurl=https%3A%2F%2Fqph.fs.quoracdn.net%2Fmain-qimg-1a4e1aa27f10cee230324a90eb3d6e32&exph=387&expw=602&q=Hapsburg+Lip+and+Jaw&simid=608049283900506173&ck=A09917E9F2D85647C02C1DC9ACB9839A&selectedindex=8&form=EX0023&adlt=demote&shtp=GetUrl&shid=52aeb17c-47ee-48c4-b2b3-6ed8e1cfde09&shtk=V2hhdCBpcyB0aGUgSGFic2J1cmcgamF3PyAtIFF1b3Jh&shdk=Rm91bmQgb24gQmluZyBmcm9tIHd3dy5xdW9yYS5jb20%3D&shhk=7Dqt1xzbRwl8mrFWAlayfxACugNgRblsLc2Q5SqL26s%3D&shth=OSH.9AvnzBdOkDcZs7QxBYIWDQ
"I can hardly blame you for making jokes at the boy's expense. I am Naseem, Grand Vizier to his majesty, and I was standing exactly where you are now, being told exactly the same thing by Sjefen, my predecessor, Grand Vizier to Baka XIV, who was put in the same circumstances by Lao Ren, and so it has been for generations. The kingdom of Interalia is diverse. Our country is home to people of every creed and color, united by a common language and a 'reverence' for the royal family, including our Grand Ducon."
The man takes a moment to look at the portrait, his eyes fixated upon the protruding lower jaw of the Grand Ducon. He stifles a laugh before continuing, but his coughing succeeds in interrupting him despite his best efforts.
"Truth to tell, the royal family's peculiar practice of marrying close relatives has left the kingdom with imbeciles for monarchs. Don't worry, we can speak freely here. The Office of the Grand Vizier has existed lo these many centuries to govern the kingdom while the kings and queens make public speeches (usually compelled and guided by our court wizards) to keep our military strong, our borders secure, and to make Interalia great again after whatever catastrophe has befallen the state, be it a renegade dragon raid from the satrapies to the south, a giant fanatic warband from the north, sahuagin menacing our ports to the west, or the drow blooding their bravos on a caravan from the Iron Mountains. The sad reality is that most of the plebes rally around the monarchs we have carefully used to act as our messengers. Accordingly, my predecessors long ago saw the need to prohibit any public criticism of the sovereign idiot sitting on the throne lest our people lose their appetite for shouting "For Crown and Country!" as they stick spears into whatever neighbor happens to threaten us at the moment. As an unexpected but now recognized benefit, the prohibition of criticizing the crown has helped identify those who are best suited to aid the government: those who have the good sense and spine to name this charade for what it is. You, yes, all of you, are who we can depend on in these times."
"There have been reports of disturbances in the capital's catacombs. We don't want to cause a panic, but there are reports of ossuaries being disturbed, and most recently, a priestess has gone missing. The paladins and clerics of our temples and churches have been dispatched to assist in quelling a demonic invasion near the Iron Mountains, and can not be recalled fast enough to deal with this threat. We need you to investigate and recover the priest if at all possible. At least let us know her fate."
Stooped Connard steps up and says: "We Connards have always been natural guardians of Ducons. I answer the call like my ancestors before me."
“And of course, the kingdom has always had its ‘stalwarts’ who seldom detect the slights of their humble intellects. Welcome, Connard. I suspect your friends will keep you at the front when facing the fiercest foes.”
Stooped Connard laughs: « Ha! And if they don’t push me, even my own friends might survive. See, I have anger management issues. But I’m working on it. It’s a new kind of treatment called Decapitatherapy. »
In a thick Russian accent (Ya ****ers, there's a voice) Rhogar steps forward: "Is good that you have called upon us to help. We will go and find the priestess or what is left her dah."
Lyoko's Lion like face shows signs of relief and understanding, "When I arrived in this land I knew there had to forces at work that went unnoticed by its denizens... How else could it have stood so long? While I do not agree with many of the laws and traditions of this land, I'd fight for as opposed be imprisoned by it. You have 12 months of my service and I will fight for this Ducon with honor, even if he has none." He pulls down his visor and makes ready his shield.
Folsorm keeps looking at the portrait of the Grand Ducon, shakes his head and says "I said it before, and I'll say it again, that kid looks like a gods be damned ******"
He looks at the vizier, "However, I do care about the people of this land, and this priestess, um, not to be indelicate, on a scale of 1 to 10, is she at least a 5?" He laughs and looks around at his new companions. "Regardless, it's better than working in the mines, I'm in, let's go save this priestess"
Stoopeed looks at the ranger and says: ‘Oh yeah. You can’t be a cleric in the court Of Ducon if you’re not at least an 8. Your eyes will be pleased.
"Ah yes, Irulan." Naseem head cocks to the side and he tilts his chin upward, looking at the ceiling, his lips curling in a smile. "Suffice it to say there was a lively debate within the temple as to whether she would better serve the temple as a chaste priestess of the Eternal Dawn or as a model for the statuary being sculpted which celebrates the female form. Leave it to Irulan to pose for the sculptors before taking the mantle as a priestess. She had the sagacity to make sure the temple is filled weekly with more male devotees than ever."
"Aside from being the only other living thing in the catacombs, or so I hope, Irulan will be recognizable by her vestments. Be forewarned, the catacombs are older than memory and labyrinthine in nature. Be sure to take torches, rations, water, and take some time to pray to whomever will keep you from getting lost or worse down in that moldy necropolis. Time is of the essence, and we can not tarry. Discretion is paramount: therefore, we will have you enter the catacombs through a drainage canal that has a locked gate to an access tunnel connecting the sewer to the catacombs. The tunnel has not been used for decades. I know not what may have taken to roost there."
Naseem points his finger at the wooden door and speaks: "Otho, I have informed "his majesty's court" [snorting snicker] of their task. Bring them a key to the tunnel gate as well as their torches, rations, and water, and escort them to the storm sewers so they can enter the necropolis through the adjoining tunnel."
A few moments later, the guards who escorted you to the tower have returned, bearing 5 torches and 3 days' rations for each of you. They take you to the drainage tunnel's entrance just outside of town under cover of the dark and rain. "Good luck!", whispers a red-bearded Otho. "For the Ducon!" He giggles as he walks away.
« Thank you, for the Ducon ! » though Stoopeed really meant it, oblivious to the vizeer’s snarl, stomping his chest (well..his man boobs) with his fist. He places rations and torches into his backpack and checks his weapons one more time before saying. « Let’s go companions. Our watch begins.
Dirt shakes his head with disbelief as the conversation unfolds. A couple of times he attempts to meekly raise his hand or garner the Vicar's attention, but only sighs when they are summarily dismissed to head into the catacombs. Looking to the closest of his new allies, he mutters, "I think I'm in the wrong room. I was looking for the, um, facilities. Surely, um, you've all got this right?" He begins to walk in a different direction until he comes into the gaze of one of the guards. "Er, um. Oh, yes. This way, um...," adding weakly, "for Ducon." He follows the others.
Corrin Kettlewhistle: Halfling Life Cleric (Curse of Strahd)
Kip Dalton: Human Lore Bard (Waterdeep Dragon Heist)
Debauchery Dalliance: Half-Drow Oath of Conquest Paladin (White Plume Mountain)
The sewer drain canal looms before you. It has a slight incline from where you are, the canal being five feet wide, with a trough in the center. A steady stream of . The stench of trash, mildew, and offal fill your nostrils. Water sluices into the canal from the gutters of the street above, creating a briskly moving stream of water that is 1 foot deep. The canal is traversible by foot, and there are stone catwalks on both sides that run parallel to the canal, which is 10 feet above the canal's trough. There is no source of light, and you can only see about 15 feet into the canal. What do you do?
Occ: the torches give us only 5’more of light. Correct?
also: Stoopeed doesn’t like pee water and wants to climb on the catwalk.
The torches provide normal light for torches. Whatever the PHB says. I just wanted you to be aware what the canal looked like at its opening where there is enough ambient light to let you see its general features.
You can freely climb onto the catwalk unless I say otherwise.
Then Stoopeed climbs the catwalk, readies his slashing weapons and listens attentively to his surroundings.
rolled 17 on perception.
Stoopeed hears squeaking up ahead. A host of red eyes on the ceiling stare at you from 60 feet away.
Stoopeed tells (failing his wisdom roll, thus not whispering) the crew: “There be red eyes creatures up ahead!
Rhogar whispers “Dee Red Eyes ov Destiny...”
The Dragonborn proceeds a few paces forward to try to illuminate the source of the red eyes with his torch.