For the past several days before you came to Chult, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: a wasting disease afflicting everyone who’s ever been raised from the dead. Victims grow thinner and weaker each day, slowly but steadily sliding toward the death they once denied. When they finally succumb, they can’t be raised — and neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they’ve ever received that miracle in the past. Temples and scholars of divine magic are at a loss to explain a curse that has affected the entire region, and possibly the entire world.
You have been invited to the home of Merchant Prince Wakanga. A uniformed attendant leads you up a grand staircase to the third floor, then ushers you into a wood-paneled room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a heavy table bearing goblets and bottles of wine. The darkly paneled walls are hung with maps and sea charts. Racks, shelves, and cabinets hold hundreds more rolled-up maps and charts.
Two people are seated in overstuffed chairs near the fire. For one of the people, you can’t discern a gender, because only the person’s head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask conceal the wearer’s face. Even the person’s dry, raspy voice provides no clue. “Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends — I hope I may call you that.”
The other is a large Chultan man. wearing tannish colored silken robes and is smoking a pipe. He smiles broadly as you enter the room. He stands up and opens his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Ah my friends, I am glad you made it. I am Wakanga, one of the ruling Merchant Princes of Port Nyanzaru aka Port as the locals call it. My very dear friend has asked for you to come here. Please make yourselves at home. Eat, drink. "
Describe yourselves to the other characters, what they see, your mannerisms etc... Good luck playing ToA. Have fun.
Zubeki takes a step forward, smiling pleasantly, and lets go of his staff. Instead of falling to the ground, it starts to gently bob behind him as he continues to the table. An unseen servant was summoned before Zubeki entered the room. "I am honored to be given the title of 'friend' on our first meeting," Zubeki says with arms open wide mimicking Wakanga's warmth. "...and I am still in slight of a shock to be invited personally into your audience." Zubeki gently sits on a plush chair and smiles the smile of a salesman. "I am curious, what kind of project are you planning? And how will I be collaborating with my fellow invitees?" Gesturing back to the group of adventurers, it is painfully obvious that Zubeki doesn't understand the gravity of the situation or what kind of trouble he'll be getting into.
A young man, two daggers on his belt and a shield slung across his back, steps boldly into the room, a tactic to mask that he has little to no idea as to why he, a lowly knight, has been granted entrance into the home of a Chultan Merchant Prince, let alone be extended his friendship. A reddish blush colours his cheeks, though it is hard to tell whether it's from excitement or the early onset of sunburn. His scale mail jingles softly as he makes a courtesy bow towards the two hosts.
'It is an honour to be called your friend, Prince Wakanga.'Tyrgram replies after the Prince has welcomed him into his home.'I confess: I have scant idea as to why one such as yourself has called upon me.'He straightens his back and pull his shoulders back.'But it is a knight's solemn duty to aid those in need and for this I offer you my services.'
Having stated his intentions, Tyrgram takes up a position more towards the side of the room near a panel showcasing an impressive map. His eyes occasionally drift towards the staff seemingly floating in mid-air as well as the other people who joined him and his two hosts in this room. For now, Tyrgram is content to observe the others in silence and to await what Prince Wakanga and the masked person have to tell.
The sound of heavy footfalls and the occasionally clacks of wood against flooring precede the possibly biggest of the guest. That and possibly the sounds of the attendant frantic efforts to keep the giant-kin from clumsily knocking over or into something along the way. In spite of the minor incidents, Jolly arrives at the final doors, ducks his head down first, and after giving the room a quick once over, he waves a big, meaty hand at the people already inside and gives them a big smile before attempting to duck the rest of the way through. The large pack bearing the wooden shield and all sorts of other gear nearly gives him trouble. But, he manages to make do on his own and come out of it still as cool as cucumber.
Although he opens his mouth at first as if to say something, as per the recent norm since his arrival, the giant-kin covered in literally scale mail and light furs found himself almost immediately distracted by the racks and shelves filled to the brim. For his part, he keeps from immediately wandering over to investigate, but nevertheless appeared only partially attentive to anything else.
"Hmm~ This one will stand, if that is alright." He states airily, and in turning to regard the two properly, brushes aside some of the thicker, dark green bangs covering his eyes. Motes of dust and leafage falls free in the movement. Seeming not to mind the lost passengers, Jolly gets a little closer (no more than within 10ft, if even that), absent-minded smile diminishing but present as he scrutinizes the masked one. After sniffing at the air and canting his head, he then rubs his bullish and pink nose.
"Curious~"He mutters. With the aid of the rune-engraved cane in hand, he then crouches down so that he's closer to eye level with most and says offhandedly to the masked one, "Though you bear not the scent, you remind me of 'them'."He turns to Wakanda next and inclines his head forward, leaving the wooden and carefully carved holy symbol to dangle freely in the air. "You have this one's thanks, o' Prince of Merchants, and of Nyanzaru. If for but the hospitality alone, how might a son of Jannath repay the service?" Jolly adds formally.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Vrak enters the home and follows the attendant to the room. When the attendant gestures to the room and usher's him in he turns to the man. "Thank you" he says and then enters.
Vrak's dark silver scales glisten, black hair braided with gold rings fall from his head. Standing over six and half feet in height he is a towering presence, impressively tall with a heavy weight to match. He has blue tattoos on his face in lines over his eyes. He wears splint armor and bears a shield emblazoned with a silver dragon head in a blue shield crossed with swords. A longsword is sheathed at his side. An amulet in the shape of a shield with a blue background and platinum dragon hangs around his neck.
Just as Vrak steps into the room he casts Divine Sense and opens his awareness to the presence of any evil that may be within the room. He then looks around and takes in the people who have arrived before he has.
"Thank you Wakanga for your generosity. I am Vrakvroth Esstyrlynn, in service to the Talon's of Justice. Your request has been received and I have been sent to render whatever aid is needed in the name of Bahamut."
Vrak then steps forward and hands him the letters of introduction that have been sent with him by those is command of his order. He then takes a seat but refrains from eating or drinking for the moment.
A sound at the door, like the rustling of stones, followed by the appearance of a tall man carrying a sack in his arms. On top of which lie a stone shield and battle worn Axe. He sets them inside the room against the wall near the door ceremoniously before standing and striding up to the Prince with nothing more than him and his clothes. The man is dressed as a simple worker, Mud brown trousers and a tan workers shirt. At a glance it almost looked as if he cut holes in a potato sack and wore that. "I am Terrance, from clan Almandine. Our finest hunter." Terrance will bow his head in respect as he introduces himself. Looking up he puts on a wide smile "This is a fine city you find yourself in! Such wonders here. But these things are not why I was asked to come. Please ask this favor of yours and I will do this thing. I am honored you call me friend, let me repay this kindness with a kindness of my own good Prince."
Terrance turns, as if just noticing others are in the room. He blushes, realizing he was so set on honoring his clan with this introduction he had ignored the others. And, was that staff floating by itself? Was that a Dragon Man? Who was that green man who even he had to look up to meet their gaze? This was a strange land indeed.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Eider, Level 13 Human Abjurer Wizard - Colosseum of Conquest (11W-3L) (Tougher than he looks)
"You know, I've never met a prince before. I knew somebody who did, though. Half-orc gentleman that I used to travel with in the troupe. He was a strong man, performed amazing feats of strength and all that. He was a mercenary before that, a bodyguard before that, a professional dancer before that and a bounty hunter before that. I believe he met the prince when he was in his bodyguard days. Or perhaps his dancer days? I don't fully recall, but I do believe he said that princes were always a pleasure to meet...or eat. Again, I don't recall. He was an odd one.", were the words one would hear, the voice musical and full of cheer, as the young half-elf man was brought into the chamber by an attendant whose ear he was currently talking off.
The half-elf had a foppish look to him in some respects, with his slender build and languid manner, but the worn nature of the red woolen cloak, simple pale green tunic and leather riding boots and breeches he wore made it clear that he wasn't of noble birth. Though his delicately attractive features, sparkling green eyes and long silvery hair would give him a look of one who could pass for it if he wished. But, again, such a thought was ruined by the easy, casual smile on his face, the lute slung across his back along with a leather pack and a rapier hanging from his hip. All in all, he was a hard one to fully put his finger on.
He was guided into the room and looked around, that smile broadening as he found himself surrounded by people he didn't know. How wonderful it was to meet new people! He wondered what stories they held or exciting lives they had lived. A number of them had the look of hardened warriors and the young half-elf thought that such men were often full of exciting and riveting tales of danger and battle the likes of which people so often loved hearing in ballads or poems. He thought he should take a moment to ask them some time for their stories, but, for now, he thought that he would have to remember his manners.
He smiled that bright smile and looked about, his gaze lingering on the hooded and masked figure for a moment as his curiosity flared at the sight of such a figure before he dipped at the waist in a full, showy bow, his arm coming up to place a hand on his chest and his other spreading out to his side in the manner of a performer accepting applause. "A pleasure to be here and make all of your acquaintances! I am Devlin Valoren! I look forward to our time together!", he said cheerfully before his gaze came to the man who introduced himself as their host, the merchant prince, and he gave a bow especially to him, "And thank you, your merchant highness, for your invitation and your hospitality! I am so very grateful for both. I will aim to make sure I am worthy of such regard, I do promise you."
Unlike some of the others, Devlin seemed to not wonder at all why he had been called here. Not because he knew or because he didn't hold curiosity, but because he thought that, whatever the reason may be, he was glad to be here and he was sure to find so many interesting things to learn and tales to add to his repertoire. He honestly couldn't wait, no matter what it was that lay before him after this.
Once Devlin enters the room and introduces himself, the masked figure nods towards Wakanga.
"Excellent, everyone has made it. I hope your trips weren't too stressful. You have been brought here by the request of my dear friend Syndra Silvane. A once powerful Archmage. I'll let her get on with it. Please, eat, drink."
The masked figure gets up and she looks very frail. She is wrapped with bandages that you notice under her clothing. When she talks it is with a very raspy voice and stops every so often wheezing and coughing.
"Thank you Wakanga and thank you, everyone, for coming at such short notice but time is of the essence. I was an adventurer years ago. I died once and was raised from the dead. I have since closed the door on that stage of my life.”
She stops to take a sip of water before continuing.
“The death curse you’ve heard about has struck me. I don’t 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 in the Harpers have learned that the cause of the death curse is a necromantic artifact called the Soulmonger. According to their sources, the Soulmonger is somewhere in Chult. Chult is a peninsula ringed with mountains and choked with rainforests. Enormous reptiles, savage goblins, and an army of undead prowl its jungles and ruins. Mapping the place has always been nigh impossible, and nothing is known about the region’s current geography beyond a few miles from the coast.”
Wakanga nods. " Not much is known about the jungles beyond the walls of Port. There are a few tribes that live in the jungle as well as The Flaming Fist that has a fort close by. The Order of the Gauntlet has a Camp as well within the jungle."
Syndra sits down and takes a moment to catch her breath. " I've asked you here to find this Soulmonger and destroy it. You all have come highly recommended for your particular skill sets. I would reward you well for your troubles."
As Syndra Silvane stands Vrak also stands and bows his head slightly to her. He then takes his seat again. As he listens to what she has to say he takes some food and drink.
"My Lady, it is the honor of the Talons of Justice to serve you in this way." He then takes a drink to wet his tongue. "I have heard a few strange stories in my short time here in Chult. What can you tell us of these things? I hear of a ruined city up the River Tath, past what is called Kahakla Gorge? What do you know of this? Has any of the jungle been mapped at all that we could find these places?
Wakanga walks over to a map on the wall and pulls it down. He brings it over to the table and places it for all to see. "This is about as much as the jungle has been explored. There are many ruined temples, cities, monasteries, caves, dungeons, well you get the picture. As for finding places in the jungle. You will need to hire a guide. From what you are saying though that sounds like the ruined city of Orolunga. There are rumors that an ancient guardian Naga is guarding it. The naga is thousands of years old and a font of useful information — perhaps the best source of information in Chult. However, she’s not easy to reach. As to where this place is. Again, you'd have to go hire a guide. No expedition goes into the jungle without a guide if they want to live."
'Me? Highly recommended? But I...' Tyrgram's thoughts trail off in confusion at the words spoken by the masked figure. He hadn't the faintest idea who or why someone would recommend him, given that he has yet to do anything of note. Still, when opportunity comes knocking at your door, it would be rude not to answer. A woman in peril, evil prowling the land and a fantastic journey among strange shores: it's the stuff stories are written about. Tyrgram, the knight-errant, out on a quest to bring glory to his Lady: it was enough to fill his head with imagery far grander than the reality of the situation. He shakes his head to clear his mind of these thought (for the time being) to address the matter.
'You want us to march into an unknown jungle filled with danger to find and destroy a death-defying artefact?' Tyrgram asks in a matter-of-fact tone. He then takes a knee. 'It would be remiss for a knight to refute a lady in distress. I will gladly take up this quest on your behalf.'
All the while Tyrgram keeps an eye on the strange silver-coloured dragonman. No good has ever come of a dragon, as far as he knows, and certainly not of one professing to knightly manners.
Sweat beads on Zubeki's forehead as is so-call 'project' has nothing to do with a needle or thread. Oh orcstain, those damn Harpers are going to be the death of me. Zubeki has always had a tenuous relationship with the Harpers, as his late master was a lifelong member. They probably dropped my name again to get me back into adventuring, those sneaky bastards. I want to refuse, but if I can gain clout in with this prince, that opens a whole new avenue of business.
After a long inhale, Zubeki stands to grab a floating goblet of wine in his hand. "Yes, I think we all have a lot of questions about the jungle. You've assembled a team of great skill and talent," Zubeki says and he turns his direction to the others "...all who look..." Zubeki pauses and looks them all up and down "...experienced. But none of us have been to this land before, and as for a jungle so unmapped, how trustworthy are the guides?"
Wakanga looks towards Zubeki and smiles. "How trustworthy are the guides you ask? Well, that would depend on what you consider trustworthy. You would have to interview them and choose one that you think is worth your time and money. But a word of advice. Guides do not come cheap and most of them get paid a month in advance. There are some that will waive their fee if you do a quest for them though. But the Merchant Prince Jobul is in charge of guides and the fee is standard with every guide. 5 gold a day, 150 gold in advance. You can find Guides advertisements on the various billboards around town or you can try The Thundering Lizard or Kaya’s House of Repose. The Lizard caters to a more, how shall we say uh raucous clientele and the beds for the night are 5 sp. Kaya's is much quieter but the beds there is 1 gold a night. But inside each place, you can find various guides or at least their advertisements."
When Wakanga takes the map down and places it on the table Vrak stands and studies the map carefully. Pointing to a spot marked by the skull and crossbones directly south of Port he looks to Wakanga and Syndra.
"I see this area is marked indicating undead activity here. Someone told me the undead are the remains of Ras Nsi's army. Who or what was this Ras Nsi? Why is his army now undead? How far is this area from the Port?"
When Wakanga takes the map down and places it on the table Vrak stands and studies the map carefully. Pointing to a spot marked by the skull and crossbones directly south of Port he looks to Wakanga and Syndra.
"I see this area is marked indicating undead activity here. Someone told me the undead are the remains of Ras Nsi's army. Who or what was this Ras Nsi? Why is his army now undead? How far is this area from the Port?"
Wakanga frowns. " Ras Nsi, is a mythical villainous figure among my kind. Ras Nsi was a human paladin and a sworn protector of the city of Mezro. He betrayed his oaths and was banished. Rather than redeem himself, he raised an undead army to conquer Mezro. The would-be tyrant was defeated and banished once more. Mezro was later destroyed by the Spellplague, during which Ras Nsi lost his power to create and command undead. He withdrew leaving the vestiges of his undead army to roam unchecked throughout the jungle."
Syndra begins coughing in her chair and as she moves her hand away from her mouth you notice blood on the bandage.
Wakanga looks over at his friend but she gives him a shooing hand gesture. He frowns but continues with his story."Each hex on this map is considered to be 10 miles. That is how far one can travel in the jungle each day unless you go by boat. Then you can travel two hexes. It is very easy to get lost in the jungle and you could spend days thinking you are going in one direction when in reality you are going to another. A quality guide will help cut your chances of getting lost."
Vrak continued to study the map. "And Camp Righteous and Camp Vengeance, would these be the Flaming Fist and the Order of the Gauntletrespectively? And the lighter colored areas of the forest, is that less dense forest area or does it have some other significance?"
Vrak watches as Syndra coughs, seeing the blood.
"It is your hope that if the artifact is destroyed and the curse ends and your life is saved? By my honor lady, I will see this done."
Vrak continues to study the map trying to determine where they should head first.
Let us see what the others have to say, they may know more about traveling in such conditions and terrain. Especially that firbolg, he would know much I think.
For his part, Jolly had regarded Syndra with some degree of wariness again when things are passed off to her, but otherwise did not say or do anything more than fell back, planting his bottom on the ground.. In fact, he was more than content to remain quiet and attentive; especially now to how his would-be companions reacted to the story, if the side-long glances were any indication. Of the giant-kin's personal concerns, other than a tightening of his grip on the rune-carved cane in hand at the mention of undead and a small frown in regards to Ras Nsi, he speak nothing yet, and gives away little more.
Well, aside from the small smile of amusement at Tyrgram's reply too. Smelling before seeing the blood itself, Jolly starts utter a word of power, but stops short of completing the incantation noting the lady's reaction. Still, he tried to keep a close eye on her, if only now so out of some sense of duty than the earlier mild sense of suspicion.
"This one is aware of one possibility in regards to our dear Naga." Jolly finally admits once most (if not all) have spoken their piece. "Hmm... Let's see now, what was it..."Jolly squints, sticks out a tongue, and scratches a pattern in his head, dislodging more bits of dust and grass on the ground. "Something about... No, we're supposed to avoid the Basin... Hmmm... Ah! Oh yes. There was something about a ruined city that lies up the River That, past Kahakla Gorge. And it is there that a 'wise and generous' Naga does take refuge and guard the hollowed grounds."Jolly furrows his brow as the last words leaves his mouth, and then looks to the ceiling.
'Naga, Naga, Naga... Hm... This one should knows, neh?'
Vrak continued to study the map. "And Camp Righteous and Camp Vengeance, would these be the Flaming Fist and the Order of the Gauntletrespectively? And the lighter colored areas of the forest, is that less dense forest area or does it have some other significance?"
Vrak watches as Syndra coughs, seeing the blood.
"It is your hope that if the artifact is destroyed and the curse ends and your life is saved? By my honor lady, I will see this done."
Vrak continues to study the map trying to determine where they should head first.
Let us see what the others have to say, they may know more about traveling in such conditions and terrain. Especially that firbolg, he would know much I think.
Wakanga shakes his head as he points to the map. "Camp Righteous and Camp Vengeance are Order encampments. Fort Beluarian is the Flaming Fist outpost. It is more of a fort than an outpost. As for the lighter colors. I have no idea. You would need to ask a guide about that."
Syndra nods at Vrak's words. "Yes, We hope that if this artifact is destroyed it will break the curse and Millions of people will be saved. Millions of people all across Faerun will be spared the horrible death of this curse."
Syndra takes off the mask and you notice her flesh is rotting off her face. Where her cheek should be is all rotted flesh and muscle. You can see the bone of her jaw peeking through.
"This is what the death curse does to you. Everyday it eats away your body until you do not have the strength left to fight. Once your body gives up your soul is sucked from your body and you are dead forever. No one knows where your soul goes but it does not go to the afterlife. The greatest wizards and clerics of the land had tried to commune with the dead and they are not there."
Terrance trembles slightly after listening to his hosts say their piece. Especially after seeing the Lady's face. In a low tone whisper Terrance says "This thing, it is evil. I will hunt down the source of your suffering." Turning to the whole room he speaks in a firm, but friendly tone "It seems we are companions now, this is good. Let us find our guide and head out soon. There are people who suffer while we idle."
Terrance turns back to the Prince and Syndra "Rest easy, I will not allow the dead to be disgraced in this way."
Terrance moves to the door where he laid his weapons and shield. As he's gathering them he thinks to himself about the stories from his clan. That their power and strength comes from the ancestors. What would it mean if their souls started to disappear..? No! He would not be distracted by such a thought, he was alive. And his ancestors stood with him still, that was enough.
After standing back up Terrance once again scans the room, thankful that some of his companions seem to know more than he did. Perhaps he should have done more than gamble on these beasts called "Dinosaurs".
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Eider, Level 13 Human Abjurer Wizard - Colosseum of Conquest (11W-3L) (Tougher than he looks)
Describe yourselves to the other characters, what they see, your mannerisms etc... Good luck playing ToA. Have fun.
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
Zubeki takes a step forward, smiling pleasantly, and lets go of his staff. Instead of falling to the ground, it starts to gently bob behind him as he continues to the table. An unseen servant was summoned before Zubeki entered the room. "I am honored to be given the title of 'friend' on our first meeting," Zubeki says with arms open wide mimicking Wakanga's warmth. "...and I am still in slight of a shock to be invited personally into your audience." Zubeki gently sits on a plush chair and smiles the smile of a salesman. "I am curious, what kind of project are you planning? And how will I be collaborating with my fellow invitees?" Gesturing back to the group of adventurers, it is painfully obvious that Zubeki doesn't understand the gravity of the situation or what kind of trouble he'll be getting into.
A young man, two daggers on his belt and a shield slung across his back, steps boldly into the room, a tactic to mask that he has little to no idea as to why he, a lowly knight, has been granted entrance into the home of a Chultan Merchant Prince, let alone be extended his friendship. A reddish blush colours his cheeks, though it is hard to tell whether it's from excitement or the early onset of sunburn. His scale mail jingles softly as he makes a courtesy bow towards the two hosts.
'It is an honour to be called your friend, Prince Wakanga.' Tyrgram replies after the Prince has welcomed him into his home. 'I confess: I have scant idea as to why one such as yourself has called upon me.' He straightens his back and pull his shoulders back. 'But it is a knight's solemn duty to aid those in need and for this I offer you my services.'
Having stated his intentions, Tyrgram takes up a position more towards the side of the room near a panel showcasing an impressive map. His eyes occasionally drift towards the staff seemingly floating in mid-air as well as the other people who joined him and his two hosts in this room. For now, Tyrgram is content to observe the others in silence and to await what Prince Wakanga and the masked person have to tell.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Vrak enters the home and follows the attendant to the room. When the attendant gestures to the room and usher's him in he turns to the man. "Thank you" he says and then enters.
Vrak's dark silver scales glisten, black hair braided with gold rings fall from his head. Standing over six and half feet in height he is a towering presence, impressively tall with a heavy weight to match. He has blue tattoos on his face in lines over his eyes. He wears splint armor and bears a shield emblazoned with a silver dragon head in a blue shield crossed with swords. A longsword is sheathed at his side. An amulet in the shape of a shield with a blue background and platinum dragon hangs around his neck.
Just as Vrak steps into the room he casts Divine Sense and opens his awareness to the presence of any evil that may be within the room. He then looks around and takes in the people who have arrived before he has.
"Thank you Wakanga for your generosity. I am Vrakvroth Esstyrlynn, in service to the Talon's of Justice. Your request has been received and I have been sent to render whatever aid is needed in the name of Bahamut."
Vrak then steps forward and hands him the letters of introduction that have been sent with him by those is command of his order. He then takes a seat but refrains from eating or drinking for the moment.
A sound at the door, like the rustling of stones, followed by the appearance of a tall man carrying a sack in his arms. On top of which lie a stone shield and battle worn Axe. He sets them inside the room against the wall near the door ceremoniously before standing and striding up to the Prince with nothing more than him and his clothes. The man is dressed as a simple worker, Mud brown trousers and a tan workers shirt. At a glance it almost looked as if he cut holes in a potato sack and wore that. "I am Terrance, from clan Almandine. Our finest hunter." Terrance will bow his head in respect as he introduces himself. Looking up he puts on a wide smile "This is a fine city you find yourself in! Such wonders here. But these things are not why I was asked to come. Please ask this favor of yours and I will do this thing. I am honored you call me friend, let me repay this kindness with a kindness of my own good Prince."
Terrance turns, as if just noticing others are in the room. He blushes, realizing he was so set on honoring his clan with this introduction he had ignored the others. And, was that staff floating by itself? Was that a Dragon Man? Who was that green man who even he had to look up to meet their gaze? This was a strange land indeed.
Eider, Level 13 Human Abjurer Wizard - Colosseum of Conquest (11W-3L) (Tougher than he looks)
"You know, I've never met a prince before. I knew somebody who did, though. Half-orc gentleman that I used to travel with in the troupe. He was a strong man, performed amazing feats of strength and all that. He was a mercenary before that, a bodyguard before that, a professional dancer before that and a bounty hunter before that. I believe he met the prince when he was in his bodyguard days. Or perhaps his dancer days? I don't fully recall, but I do believe he said that princes were always a pleasure to meet...or eat. Again, I don't recall. He was an odd one.", were the words one would hear, the voice musical and full of cheer, as the young half-elf man was brought into the chamber by an attendant whose ear he was currently talking off.
The half-elf had a foppish look to him in some respects, with his slender build and languid manner, but the worn nature of the red woolen cloak, simple pale green tunic and leather riding boots and breeches he wore made it clear that he wasn't of noble birth. Though his delicately attractive features, sparkling green eyes and long silvery hair would give him a look of one who could pass for it if he wished. But, again, such a thought was ruined by the easy, casual smile on his face, the lute slung across his back along with a leather pack and a rapier hanging from his hip. All in all, he was a hard one to fully put his finger on.
He was guided into the room and looked around, that smile broadening as he found himself surrounded by people he didn't know. How wonderful it was to meet new people! He wondered what stories they held or exciting lives they had lived. A number of them had the look of hardened warriors and the young half-elf thought that such men were often full of exciting and riveting tales of danger and battle the likes of which people so often loved hearing in ballads or poems. He thought he should take a moment to ask them some time for their stories, but, for now, he thought that he would have to remember his manners.
He smiled that bright smile and looked about, his gaze lingering on the hooded and masked figure for a moment as his curiosity flared at the sight of such a figure before he dipped at the waist in a full, showy bow, his arm coming up to place a hand on his chest and his other spreading out to his side in the manner of a performer accepting applause. "A pleasure to be here and make all of your acquaintances! I am Devlin Valoren! I look forward to our time together!", he said cheerfully before his gaze came to the man who introduced himself as their host, the merchant prince, and he gave a bow especially to him, "And thank you, your merchant highness, for your invitation and your hospitality! I am so very grateful for both. I will aim to make sure I am worthy of such regard, I do promise you."
Unlike some of the others, Devlin seemed to not wonder at all why he had been called here. Not because he knew or because he didn't hold curiosity, but because he thought that, whatever the reason may be, he was glad to be here and he was sure to find so many interesting things to learn and tales to add to his repertoire. He honestly couldn't wait, no matter what it was that lay before him after this.
Day 1 of the First Tenday
Approximately 7:45 am
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
As Syndra Silvane stands Vrak also stands and bows his head slightly to her. He then takes his seat again. As he listens to what she has to say he takes some food and drink.
"My Lady, it is the honor of the Talons of Justice to serve you in this way." He then takes a drink to wet his tongue. "I have heard a few strange stories in my short time here in Chult. What can you tell us of these things? I hear of a ruined city up the River Tath, past what is called Kahakla Gorge? What do you know of this? Has any of the jungle been mapped at all that we could find these places?
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
'Me? Highly recommended? But I...' Tyrgram's thoughts trail off in confusion at the words spoken by the masked figure. He hadn't the faintest idea who or why someone would recommend him, given that he has yet to do anything of note. Still, when opportunity comes knocking at your door, it would be rude not to answer. A woman in peril, evil prowling the land and a fantastic journey among strange shores: it's the stuff stories are written about. Tyrgram, the knight-errant, out on a quest to bring glory to his Lady: it was enough to fill his head with imagery far grander than the reality of the situation. He shakes his head to clear his mind of these thought (for the time being) to address the matter.
'You want us to march into an unknown jungle filled with danger to find and destroy a death-defying artefact?' Tyrgram asks in a matter-of-fact tone. He then takes a knee. 'It would be remiss for a knight to refute a lady in distress. I will gladly take up this quest on your behalf.'
All the while Tyrgram keeps an eye on the strange silver-coloured dragonman. No good has ever come of a dragon, as far as he knows, and certainly not of one professing to knightly manners.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Sweat beads on Zubeki's forehead as is so-call 'project' has nothing to do with a needle or thread. Oh orcstain, those damn Harpers are going to be the death of me. Zubeki has always had a tenuous relationship with the Harpers, as his late master was a lifelong member. They probably dropped my name again to get me back into adventuring, those sneaky bastards. I want to refuse, but if I can gain clout in with this prince, that opens a whole new avenue of business.
After a long inhale, Zubeki stands to grab a floating goblet of wine in his hand. "Yes, I think we all have a lot of questions about the jungle. You've assembled a team of great skill and talent," Zubeki says and he turns his direction to the others "...all who look..." Zubeki pauses and looks them all up and down "...experienced. But none of us have been to this land before, and as for a jungle so unmapped, how trustworthy are the guides?"
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
When Wakanga takes the map down and places it on the table Vrak stands and studies the map carefully. Pointing to a spot marked by the skull and crossbones directly south of Port he looks to Wakanga and Syndra.
"I see this area is marked indicating undead activity here. Someone told me the undead are the remains of Ras Nsi's army. Who or what was this Ras Nsi? Why is his army now undead? How far is this area from the Port?"
When Wakanga takes the map down and places it on the table Vrak stands and studies the map carefully. Pointing to a spot marked by the skull and crossbones directly south of Port he looks to Wakanga and Syndra.
"I see this area is marked indicating undead activity here. Someone told me the undead are the remains of Ras Nsi's army. Who or what was this Ras Nsi? Why is his army now undead? How far is this area from the Port?"
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
Vrak continued to study the map. "And Camp Righteous and Camp Vengeance, would these be the Flaming Fist and the Order of the Gauntlet respectively? And the lighter colored areas of the forest, is that less dense forest area or does it have some other significance?"
Vrak watches as Syndra coughs, seeing the blood.
"It is your hope that if the artifact is destroyed and the curse ends and your life is saved? By my honor lady, I will see this done."
Vrak continues to study the map trying to determine where they should head first.
Let us see what the others have to say, they may know more about traveling in such conditions and terrain. Especially that firbolg, he would know much I think.
For his part, Jolly had regarded Syndra with some degree of wariness again when things are passed off to her, but otherwise did not say or do anything more than fell back, planting his bottom on the ground.. In fact, he was more than content to remain quiet and attentive; especially now to how his would-be companions reacted to the story, if the side-long glances were any indication. Of the giant-kin's personal concerns, other than a tightening of his grip on the rune-carved cane in hand at the mention of undead and a small frown in regards to Ras Nsi, he speak nothing yet, and gives away little more.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Vrak continued to study the map. "And Camp Righteous and Camp Vengeance, would these be the Flaming Fist and the Order of the Gauntlet respectively? And the lighter colored areas of the forest, is that less dense forest area or does it have some other significance?"
Vrak watches as Syndra coughs, seeing the blood.
"It is your hope that if the artifact is destroyed and the curse ends and your life is saved? By my honor lady, I will see this done."
Vrak continues to study the map trying to determine where they should head first.
Let us see what the others have to say, they may know more about traveling in such conditions and terrain. Especially that firbolg, he would know much I think.
DM Tomb of Annihilation X2
DM Curse of Strahd
Redleaf Moutain Dwarf Circle of land(Moutain) Druid
Terrance trembles slightly after listening to his hosts say their piece. Especially after seeing the Lady's face. In a low tone whisper Terrance says "This thing, it is evil. I will hunt down the source of your suffering." Turning to the whole room he speaks in a firm, but friendly tone "It seems we are companions now, this is good. Let us find our guide and head out soon. There are people who suffer while we idle."
Terrance turns back to the Prince and Syndra "Rest easy, I will not allow the dead to be disgraced in this way."
Terrance moves to the door where he laid his weapons and shield. As he's gathering them he thinks to himself about the stories from his clan. That their power and strength comes from the ancestors. What would it mean if their souls started to disappear..? No! He would not be distracted by such a thought, he was alive. And his ancestors stood with him still, that was enough.
After standing back up Terrance once again scans the room, thankful that some of his companions seem to know more than he did. Perhaps he should have done more than gamble on these beasts called "Dinosaurs".
Eider, Level 13 Human Abjurer Wizard - Colosseum of Conquest (11W-3L) (Tougher than he looks)
Wait... Syndra Silvane... that name... Zubeki ponders that name as he finishes the lasts sips of wine from the goblet. (History 18)