Introduction: 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 are previously raised from the dead to wither and die. What is this "Death Curse"? Who is casting it? And what is their end goals? Will our hero's be able to discover it's secrets before it begins to affect more then just the dead? Or will the whole land have it's life source sucked bone dry? Who is strong AND brave enough to face the trials ahead?
We have officially filled the last slot for this Campaign! Thank you to all those who were interested. Please enjoy this magical journey as we dive deep into the Tomb of Annihilation. Though we have filled up all our player spots feel free to join myself and the crew on our discord channel found here.
A few rules for those who wish to join:
NO ALL KNOWING GODS - You only know what your character knows. Just because you have a monster manual of your own doesn't mean you automatically know everything about every creature. Unless your character has a valid reason why they would know more intel about that creature then you need to role-play like you know nothing.
STAY IN CHARACTER - I understand you need to ask questions or make comments which are not In Character. If you need to say anything please do so by typing OOC: before your comment so everyone knows your saying it and not your character. I plan to make a Discord channel for this campaign so we can keep the in game posts pretty cluttered free.
ALL ROLLS MUST BE DONE IN YOUR POST OR WHERE I CAN SEE THEM -The forum has a built in dice rolling system. Whenever you do any action that requires a dice roll you must use the dice roll in the form. If it is something we agree should be done privately I will set up a Roll20 session for you to privately make a dice roll for me to see.
BE DESCRIPTIVE IN YOUR POSTS: -Role-play out your actions and what your character says. Imagine it as if you were reading or writing a book. - Bad Example: I swing my sword. or I tell him I will accept his request but at a cost. - Good Example: Marcus swings his blade at the goblin aiming for his unprotected waist. OR Marcus gives a quick nod to the Inn Keeper. "I will do what you ask but it will cost you. How about 20 Silver Pieces?"
CREATING YOUR CHARACTERS: - You have three options when creating your character. You can roll for your abilities (4d6 and drop the lowest number), the 27 point buy system, or the standard score system (15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8) - If you choose to roll for your abilities, then I MUST see you roll them. No way around this. We want everyone to have an equal playing field. It would be unfair if I made someone do it and let someone else do it on their own.
I can't think of anything else to include in this post. As such, I will leave it like this. If I think of anything I need to include I will edit it as needed. This game will start as soon as we have enough players and their characters created.
For the past several days, the talk of the streets and taverns has all been about the so-called death curse: A wasting disease affliction 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 regions, and possibly the entire world.
You have been invited to the home of Syndra Silvan, a retired adventurer and merchant. 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.v
A person is seated in an overstuffed char 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, friends-- I hope I can call you that." a female voice states in a dry cracking voice.
OOC: I forgot to mention. The entire party is currently at the city of Baldur's Gate
Thom Merlin checked that his daggers were properly concealed as he followed the servant up towards the third level. It wasn't that he believed to be attacked but, you could never be too safe, especially in a place like Baldur's Gate, so close to civil war. It would take just one tiny spark for that to happen. Maybe if he gave it a little push... Thom suddenly caught himself and quickly erased the thought from his mind. He wasn't here to start a civil war, and starting one would stop bringing in the little coin he received while playing at the taverns and inns.
Thom checked that his Lute was properly protected from the elements once again before returning to his thoughts. The fact that he had agreed to meet this Syndra Silvan was a shock even to himself. It was hard to remember a time when Thom ever left an Inn while there was still an audience from whom coin could be squeezed out of. Once again Thom checked that his daggers were still there. Syndra Silvan, now that was a name of mystery. No matter how much asking he did he couldn't find much reliable information, and it has been a long while since that happened. Perhaps that is why he came? A chance to solve the mystery of Syndra Silvan, and perhaps compose a tale or two for the ages.
Thom suddenly jumped at the voice of the servant or rather attendant, remembering that they preferred that term, attendant. In his eyes, they were still servants no matter what they claimed. "What was...yes, yes of course. Hold your horse's man I'm coming" Thom said in a rough, and rather annoyed voice.
Checking one last time that his daggers were well hidden he entered the room. Thom eyed the person in the chair, giving a deep bow fit for a king. "Good evening Madam Silvan" Trying to see into the hood of the women in the chair he added, "May I favor you with a song and tale" He finished his bow and began to pull out his lute. "Perhaps of Vahn, Kromlech, and Adrianna, and their defeat of the Xantam's Guild?
Syndra Silvan stared transfixed on this curious man. She had asked her attendants to find her adventurers. Yet... if her eyes were not fooling her, it seemed this man was an entertainer. Far from being able to complete any REAL quest she would need him for. She wondered what her attendant saw in this man to warrant an invitation be given to him. Syndra motioned for the grey haired man to stand tall.
"There will be no need for that.. Bard.. What a strange fellow... she thought. "I already know much about the Xantam's history. I was once an adventurer like yourself and had an opportunity to learn much of the world during my travels. She motioned the Bard to a seat not far from her own. "Please, sit. We will have others like yourself joining us soon. Let us acquaint ourselves well we wait for the rest of my guests to arrive." She hoped the rest of the Adventurers she requested to be found would not be this.. strange.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Thom Merrillin straightened up from his bow a little disappointed that she didn't catch the hint. After all the events of the downfall of Xantam were over a hundred years ago, long forgotten by most. Those that did were the last to admit of any sort of knowledge, especially those connecting them to Eldrith the Betrayer. Perhaps if she wasn't a woman of tales, she would prefer a different form of entertainment.
Thom procured balls from inside his cloak and began juggling (Performance Roll: 13) 4 balls at first in a circle then switching to a spiral as he spoke. "If music and tales of conquest are not your things, then perhaps I can offer you some other form of entertainment." As Thom spoke the spiral became a figure eight. "I have many skills and I am sure we can find something that fits your mood" Thom quickly glanced around as if trying to figure out what that mood might be.
Damien K. Ward enters the room, escorted by a servant. His golden blonde hair leaks out from his scarlet red hood, raining down over his face, almost covering his violet eyes. From the leather armor that he wears, to the shortswords and daggers at his sides, all appear to be custom made for him, as with every step, hardly any sound is made. His movements and body language show a clear lack of disinterest in his surroundings, but at the same time, from the clear look in his eyes, and from how they seem to gaze across the entire room, he appears alert. After taking a second to analyze the room, he spots the lump of cloth in her chair and makes his way over to her, ignoring everyone else.
"Who needs to die?"
His eyes reveal a clear and sharp gaze as he stares directly at Syndra Silvan. His stance in front of her is tall, unmoving and uncaring.
Walking slowly through the city as he approaches Syndra's home, Dariel's eyes dart around him and he jumps nervously anytime he brushes against anyone, uncomfortable being around so many people after years of solitude in his beloved forests. As he arrives at the home to which he was sent, Dariel hesitates again, then knocks on the door. He follows the attendant upstairs, and upon entering the room, surveys it with his eyes, jumping again slightly, then blushing at the reaction, as a raspy voice emerges from the hooded and masked figure under the blanket in one of the chairs. He nods his thanks to the figure as he gets a goblet of wine for himself and settles down into a chair, where he drifts off in thought, barely noticing the conversation between the woman and the strange entertainer who entered just ahead of him.
Syndra shook her head in disgust. Her face, hidden under a mask, contorted into a fit of rage. Entertainment?! Did this fool really believe he was called here for entertainment? Syldra closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment before shelving her emotions. Her crackly voice stayed low and hid the fact she had been angry only a moment before. "It seems some of our guests have arrived. Perhaps they will enjoy the entertainment you bring?" She would still send this man with the others. Everyone else she had sent she believed had already failed her. Her time for being picky has passed. It was time for action now.
OOC: Directed towards Damien
Fixing her gaze onto Damien Syndra she smiled. Now this was the type of individual she wanted. A man who seemed to know how to get his hands dirty and wasn't afraid to do it. Why couldn't all who have come to her look like this? Her eyes seemed to pop at his question. Rather a statement more then a question... Yes.. he would do very nicely. "Many people already have. Many more will before long..." The whole world if everyone I have sent and continue to send fail me., she thought to herself.
OOC: To Dariel:
Turning her attention to the newest visitor she frowned. Where did her attendants find this one. She had watched him from the corner of her eyes when he first entered the room. To her he seemed to act as if the whole world had been sent to hunt him down. How could she be sure this man wouldn't flee at the first sign of trouble? She took a quick glance at the juggler before returning her gaze to man now sipping wine from a chair which had been offered to him. Well, she thought. If I am going to have to trust that fool I might as well put my trust into this one as well.
OOC: To Everyone
"Everyone, welcome to my home. I do expect three more to join us shortly. Syndra's voice cracked as if she hadn't had a drink in days. "In the mean time. All of you must be wondering why I have asked for you to be brought to me." Leaning forward she spread her gaze around the room as she spoke. "Tell me.. have any of you noticed anything strange happening over the last few months? Not just in Baldur's Gate but among all parts of the world?"
Jadyn left the inn an hour before the invitation's appointed time. It shouldn't take nearly that long, but she still wasn't familiar with Baldur's Gate's layout, and expected to get lost at least once. She wasn't disappointed. Whose idea was it to have a "Bloombridge Lane" and "Bloombridge Road"? Jadyn didn't know what the design priority behind this city was, but it clearly wasn't convenience. Maybe humans enjoy being confused? Find it entertaining? It made as much sense as anything else.
A servant let Jadyn into the Silvan estate. He gestured to a weapons rack in the foyer. Jadyn glanced over, then back at the servant. "No thanks, I brought my own." The servant stammered, "Ah, no, if you would please, leave your, that is, they'll be returned after the..." Jadyn understood, finally. "Ah, right." She deposited her crossbow and dagger on the rack. Kept her shield across her back, and her holy symbol around her neck. The servant led her upstairs.
Jadyn entered Syndra's room, and appraised its occupants. The lump was presumably Syndra. Of the three others, one was juggling, one was drinking, and one was standing impatiently. Are these adventurers, or party guests? Jadyn stepped quietly out of the doorway, and waited for the meeting to get down to business.
Having finished an uneventful protection detail for a caravan up from Candlekeep, Gairlik finds himself in a local tavern in the warehouse district in Baldur's Gate where he sits quietly by himself sipping his ale all the while absent-mindedly rubbing a thumb over a locket. He downs his mug and signals the barkeep for another. When she brings him his drink he stuffs the locket away in his shirt. "Thanks... You happen to know where a dwarf can find some work...?" A few words are exchanged and he learns of a Syndra Silvan looking for a few brave souls for a task. He slowly finishes his drink and with a nod of thanks, the dwarf pays his tab - leaving a little extra for the prospect. Gairlik steps outside, adjusting his gear and begins towards his next opportunity.
"So I hear you're looking for some help with this nasty death curse business," he says to the servant answering the door. He quietly enters the room once being shown up to the third floor. He is dressed in dirty commoner's clothes - white shirt with drab green trousers and simple leather boots. He drifts through the room, giving a nod to those who seem to be here for the same reasons. With the arsenal of weapons that is strapped to him, most prominent being the maul carried on his back, the dwarf rattles a bit as he continues to survey the room, allowing his eyes to linger on the maps and charts hung on the wall.
After a moment he looks to their apparent sponsor of this adventure, "Looks like you're planning quite the trip."He takes a sip from one of the offered glasses of wine. "Yeerch... Uh, got anything besides this stuff, maybe a cask of ale hiding somewhere?"
Syndra looked up at the two new entrants. One appeared to be a very solemn Cleric if she wasn't mistaken. The Religious follower seemed to carry no weapon. Most likely her Attendant had her deposit her tools of destruction at the door. Apparently Syndra's attendant failed to realize the most dangerous article still sat on this Ladies back. That shield was no doubt engraved with a holy symbol. It was the only tool needed for a real Cleric to unleash death or bring life to any situation. Or perhaps it was the symbol worn around her neck? In her experience each Cleric was different. Each one having their own defined taste and worshiping their Gods in their own unique way.
Syndra turned her gaze to the second entrant. Her eyes widened in surprise. This man was decked out in more battle armaments then most fighters in her adventuring days. If she had to take a guess she would assume this man was no mere fighter. It came at no surprise her attendants failed to have him stow away his weapons. They were probably terrified of him. She eyed him curiously and wondered whom informed this man of her search for adventurers? It was no secret what she was about. She had been sending them over for weeks. This man would be very useful to her.
With a snap of her finger an attendant scurried from the room. "Indeed I am. It is why I have called many of you here today." She emphasized the word many as to show her surprise at finding someone she wasn't expecting. "This.. death curse.. is more then just nasty." Her attendant returned to the room followed by two others carrying a keg of Ale into the room and placing it on the edge of a table littered with loose papers and maps. Several empty mugs were placed next to the Keg. Once satisfied with it's placement the attendants left the room. The original attendant took up his position by Syndra waiting for her next command. "Please, help yourself. Take as much as you like. Now tell me... What do any of you know about this death curse?"
Jadyn relaxed. Finally getting out of the protocol and into something she knew about: death.
"Souls are no longer making their way to the Raven Queen. She doesn't know why, or at least, didn't tell me. But something is stopping the souls of the dead from reaching the Shadowfell. She bid me put aside my earlier assignments to rectify this situation."
Jadyn realized she was fidgeting with her amulet again, and picked up a mug of ale to keep her hand occupied. She took a sip. It was bitter, with a note of honey. She realized all the eyes in the room were still fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.
"The link between soul and body is the Raven Queen's domain. People here are complaining about the inability to reconnect them, but that is really only one tiny piece."
Damien looks over to the side at the cleric, for the first time recognizing someone else in the room. The gods were unknown to him, but it didn't matter. He wasn't looking to kill a God....yet.
Looking back at the woman who gathered them here, the same indifference from before remains in his eyes,
"I'd assume that you know enough to point us where you want us to go."
Dariel shakes his head when Syndra asks what they know of the death curse. "Rumors." He says, "While getting supplies." He gazes around the room at the others, curious if the others know more than he does.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Thom quickly cessed his juggling after almost dropping one of the balls (Performance: 8). I must be getting old to let such a sudden entrance cause me to make such a slip... Thom thought to himself as he quickly stuffed the balls back into his cloak. If his sources were correct, then this women was really looking for any fool to take up her offer of a little adventure, and apparently, more than himself were at least willing to listen.
The first man to enter immediately gave Thom the impression of a man who loved killing and didn't have a problem with it being apparent to everyone around them. Thom knew his kind well and perhaps could make use of him for the right price. It was always good to be friends with an assassin. Maybe a quick word would ensure that Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard woke with a dagger in the back. After all the Council of Four definitely needed a ch... No, you fool...you said you were giving up on that no matter..... Thom started twirling his graying mustache as he leaned against the wall.
He gave a start when the next man came into a room. It had been a long while since he saw a Druid in town. Their kind like to stick to the woods, avoiding human interaction. A long time ago perhaps, Thom would have enjoyed the quiet life even if it meant giving up all his plans. Then again wasn't he giving up his plans by being here instead of earning the coin he deserved. Then again perhaps a Druid would pay well for his entertainment. It, after all, must be a boring life dedicating all your time outside of human civilization. Thom had never played for a group of Druids before, and he had very little knowledge of tales involving Druids. Perhaps he could... Thom let out a sigh. Now was not the time to be daydreaming of the next great tale, even if it did include a Druid.
If giving a start when the last man entered the room, the gasp he let out was definitely out of character. Few things surprised him but this definitely did. A Shadar-Kai was definitely a rare sight. He never expected to see one of their kind, especially in Baldur's Gate. The tales are true then Thom thought as he observed how darkness seemed to be drawn towards her. Perhaps it wasn't crazy when people who claim to have to meet Shadar-Kai tended to jump at shadows. Thom rose one eyebrow as he continued to eye the Shard-Kai, and unless he was mistaken a Cleric. He eyed her symbol. The Raven Queen? I guess even the Raven Queen, ruler of the shadowfell, first to have warlocks openly admit to worshiping her, would have need of clerics. Yes, the loss of souls would definitely interest her.
As the door opened to admit the next guess, Thom didn't even try to hide his disgust. Who had the need for that many weapons? Thom quickly tapped his shirt sleeve double checking that his dagger was still secure. That many weapons probably wouldn't even protect you from the first man, if the first man was as skilled as he thought. Then again the claims of Dwarves eyesights in the dark, even if half true, would probably spot the man before he even got close. If this man needed taking out, it would need to be done in the day and in an enclosed space where he could....... No No, we said we were done with that no matter. Thom continued eyeing those around the room, waiting to spot things he may have not noticed during his original study.
He pulled out his Lute and began adjusting the strings, most people ignored Bards outside the Taverns and Inns, on this occasion, it would suit him. Just a harmless Bard waiting to compose the next great tale, tending to his insturments.
It was supposed to be a simple trip to Baldur's Gate. Her Uncle had given her strict instructions regarding the journey: go straight there, unload the merchandise at the Hoof and Acorn, pick up supplies, and come right back. It was a simple enough task. A simple enough journey being but a three days travel along the main road, safe enough even for a young girl with only a car and a cart driver for company. Though young, her uncle trusted her enough for the simple task to only give her one warning: Do not get distracted.
"There are to be no side trips, no but oh Uncle To bid there was this flower and it was just off the path. Go there, make the trade, and come back. No explorations. No thousand questions regarding things that do not concern you. Do not get distracted. "
Which perhaps why it should be argued as to why she was following that strange man who asked after her uncle so desperately. She didn't know why anyone would want Uncle To bid so badly. But if someone needed one of his poultices, balms, or cures that badly, it was the least she could do to go in his place. Besides she was curious. And this didn't count as getting distracted not really.
Arriving at the manor, there was a spot of trouble when a servant blanched allowing Book entrance, who was slightly larger than an average house cat and looked distinctively feral. Book, of course, ignored the servant as being beneath his notice all while following his pet, as he saw Quill. Still, something was definitely odd.
Approaching some type of parlor, Quill began to hear snippets of conversation, and when the words death curse reached her ears along with the words Raven Queen, she decided there was such a thing as too much curiosity and tried to make a run for it. A large, very unknowable form blocked her path, however as the young gnome looked up and up to the unsmiling face of the butler who was silently made it clear she was to enter the parlor. Somewhat reluctantly, Quill entered the room behind Book who immediately plopped his large well fed self in front of the fire seemingly unconcerned about his mistresses discomfort. Wide green eyes darting from figure to figure, Quill cleared her throat, her innate good manners kicking in as she executed a quick bow.
"I'm sorry for intruding, but this young man" hooking a finger at the retreating from of a page, "was looking for my Uncle To bid? Terribly sorry to inform you, but he broke his ankle last sennight trying to catch a quart of elder root off the shelf or was it the slime of a wooly eel, neverthemind, doesnt matter. Laid up and cranky as a bear awoken before spring is what he is now. The lad found me instead. Not that can be much help. Low on supplies. Can't be helped, srange times these. Are you ill? Hard to tell, but you must be all bundled up like that. Can't say I can be much help though if it's curses and having to do with Raven Queen's. Don't be knowing who that is. Do not like the sound of her. I am babbling aren't I? Terribly sorry. Anyway just tell me your ails and I'll try my best to set you up right with a cordial until you can see a cleric or healer, since Uncle can't be helping this time around. Not that Uncle Tobid is a healer mind, being a merchant of spices, herbs, and exotic creatures. My mother makes most of his cures, but still he is a fine hand at finding exactly what people need even if they don't know they be needing it. I'm sure he could have helped, too bad about the ankle. ". Realizing she had continued on long enough, She suddenly stopped talking giving a sheepish smile as she scuffed her boot against the floor.
Thom eyed the newcomer as he continued plucking the cords of his Lute. She reminded him of a child he used to know some many years ago. A wide-eyed youth thrust into an adventure that they never really wanted. Recalled that he was really skilled with a bow. Maybe this adventure would be more interesting after all. It sounded like her mother was a herb healer of some sort. Thom chuckled to himself as he was reminded of another woman who claimed to be a healer. Liked to wear her hair in a braid and would constantly tug on it when things were not going how she planned. Recalled that she ended up with a man made of stone, however unlikely that seemed to be. Then again he ended up with some interesting candidates himself.
Thom realized he had been staring at the newcomer, and forgotten all about the cords of his Lute. Giving it up as a lost cause he quickly stashed it away before pulling a pipe and tabac out of a pocket of his cloak. Quickly lighting it and giving it a puff he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes in an attempt to seem uninterested. He had come to Baldur's Gate, leaving behind his land and everything he had ever known to get away from those memories and it would do him little good to think on them. They were long in the past and he doubted anyone would believe him if he did bring them up. After all many would be hard pressed to believe that the mentioning of a dragon reborn was a man, rather than a fancy way of bringing attention to a newly hatched baby dragon. Yes, it was best to erase that past, to bad it was impossible to run from dreams.
Jadyn turned when she heard the door open again. She watched a large cat, and an only slightly larger gnome, walk in. The gnome started talking so quietly and so quickly that Jadyn had a hard time keeping up. Something about a spice merchant uncle? Was this girl lost? But no, she was wearing armor and had both a bow and a sword. She was too well equipped to be hunting rabbits. This gnome was probably more afraid of this parlor than she was of a bear.
I should try to make this poor gnome feel safe. How do they do that here? They love their food, right?
Jadyn filled another mug with ale and held it out toward the gnome. "Welcome, little one. We were just discussing this so-called 'death curse' and its effect on souls. But there's ale, too, so, uh, don't let your existential fear of death stop you from enjoying yourself!" Jadyn tried smiling at the gnome. I don't think I'm doing this right.
Lesnalore stepped in to the parlor last. Her human and elvish features blending into a soft childlike face but her clothing spoke to the distance she had traveled. The clean yet well worn travel clothing she wore, fit perfectly for exploration in dark greens of her shirt and coat and light browns of the boots and gloves she wore. On each side of her hips an dagger hostler, along with a quiver on her left, with a light crossbow leather holder across her back, all of course empty at the request on the servants.
"Apologizes on my lateness, traveling has given me a good sense of destination if not the greatest of accuracy in time. But don't stop on my account."
Offering up her hands slightly defensively she made her way into the parlor, shifting past to be right next to the door way as she stood behind one of the other sitting adventurers. Looking around the room she attempted to size them all up. Offering a soft smile to any she made contact with. A disarming smile is the best foot to start on after-all. Then refocusing in on the Lady Syndra, making a mental note of the different looks of the many called here today, knowing it was the Death Curse that they were called but still questioning why Syndra had such an interest in it. Her gloved hand cupping her chin as she thought to herself.
As her eyes grew wide at the disturbing smile of the strange woman who had no pupils, Quill quickly scanned the room prepared to make a fast retreat when she noticed something odd about the woman who was trying to use the soothing tones as she spoke, "Welcome little one, we were just discussing...." Her words disappearing into back ground noise as Quill took a quick step closer , her head cooked to one side.
Strange. "How do you do that?" Not realizing she had spoken outloud, Quill began circling this strange human. ...Not human....other, maybe, "The shadows....they bend towards you, blend, drawn," leaning close but not too close she peered into the woman's face as she darted around her muttering to herself "it's like your dark, but not dark. Shadowy. Weird eyes too. Very interesting. Demon, no not a demon, at least I don't think your a demon."
A lyrical voice suddenly snapped back to reality as she took a few steps back out of the shadowy woman's space before promptly landing startled. Shaking her head as if to clear it from the case she had been in, her quick eyes took in the rest of the room: an sorry motely gentleman whose life betrayed him as a bard, a dwarf, a scowling man, a silent bidding stranger, and now an elf.
Blinking from her position on the floor, Quill turned towards the woman her voice unnaturally high as she squeaked, "I think there's been some sort of mistake..." Clearing her throat she continued her normal lower alto register, "I think I should go..." Her effort to stand up at that moment was however impeded by Book who decided at that moment that she was a much better pillow than the floor. Book, being nearly half her size and quite well fed was tremendously difficult to move when he didn't wish to be moved, seemed quite content to stay in his current comfortable position successfully trapping her there until he decided to move. Throwing up her hands in the air, Quill designed herself to staying.
"Fine, have it your way! Looks like I'm staying....which reminds me," turning her observant gaze back to the bundled up woman in a chair, " Why were you looking for Uncle To Bid anyway? Can't imagine he be much use for curses. A balm of healing, a pack of cinnamon, a silk gown, sure...But curses? And what exactly is this.... " searching her memory for what she vaguely heard the shadow woman mention, "death curse you are speaking of anyway?"
TOMB OF ANNIHILATION
Introduction: 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 are previously raised from the dead to wither and die. What is this "Death Curse"? Who is casting it? And what is their end goals? Will our hero's be able to discover it's secrets before it begins to affect more then just the dead? Or will the whole land have it's life source sucked bone dry? Who is strong AND brave enough to face the trials ahead?
We have officially filled the last slot for this Campaign! Thank you to all those who were interested. Please enjoy this magical journey as we dive deep into the Tomb of Annihilation. Though we have filled up all our player spots feel free to join myself and the crew on our discord channel found here.
A few rules for those who wish to join:
NO ALL KNOWING GODS
- You only know what your character knows. Just because you have a monster manual of your own doesn't mean you automatically know everything about every creature. Unless your character has a valid reason why they would know more intel about that creature then you need to role-play like you know nothing.
STAY IN CHARACTER
- I understand you need to ask questions or make comments which are not In Character. If you need to say anything please do so by typing OOC: before your comment so everyone knows your saying it and not your character. I plan to make a Discord channel for this campaign so we can keep the in game posts pretty cluttered free.
ALL ROLLS MUST BE DONE IN YOUR POST OR WHERE I CAN SEE THEM
-The forum has a built in dice rolling system. Whenever you do any action that requires a dice roll you must use the dice roll in the form. If it is something we agree should be done privately I will set up a Roll20 session for you to privately make a dice roll for me to see.
BE DESCRIPTIVE IN YOUR POSTS:
-Role-play out your actions and what your character says. Imagine it as if you were reading or writing a book.
- Bad Example: I swing my sword. or I tell him I will accept his request but at a cost.
- Good Example: Marcus swings his blade at the goblin aiming for his unprotected waist. OR Marcus gives a quick nod to the Inn Keeper. "I will do what you ask but it will cost you. How about 20 Silver Pieces?"
CREATING YOUR CHARACTERS:
- You have three options when creating your character. You can roll for your abilities (4d6 and drop the lowest number), the 27 point buy system, or the standard score system (15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8)
- If you choose to roll for your abilities, then I MUST see you roll them. No way around this. We want everyone to have an equal playing field. It would be unfair if I made someone do it and let someone else do it on their own.
I can't think of anything else to include in this post. As such, I will leave it like this. If I think of anything I need to include I will edit it as needed. This game will start as soon as we have enough players and their characters created.
Thank You!
"Help yourselves to wine, and seat yourselves, friends-- I hope I can call you that." a female voice states in a dry cracking voice.
OOC: I forgot to mention. The entire party is currently at the city of Baldur's Gate
Edit: Fixed Typos
Thom Merlin checked that his daggers were properly concealed as he followed the servant up towards the third level. It wasn't that he believed to be attacked but, you could never be too safe, especially in a place like Baldur's Gate, so close to civil war. It would take just one tiny spark for that to happen. Maybe if he gave it a little push... Thom suddenly caught himself and quickly erased the thought from his mind. He wasn't here to start a civil war, and starting one would stop bringing in the little coin he received while playing at the taverns and inns.
Thom checked that his Lute was properly protected from the elements once again before returning to his thoughts. The fact that he had agreed to meet this Syndra Silvan was a shock even to himself. It was hard to remember a time when Thom ever left an Inn while there was still an audience from whom coin could be squeezed out of. Once again Thom checked that his daggers were still there. Syndra Silvan, now that was a name of mystery. No matter how much asking he did he couldn't find much reliable information, and it has been a long while since that happened. Perhaps that is why he came? A chance to solve the mystery of Syndra Silvan, and perhaps compose a tale or two for the ages.
Thom suddenly jumped at the voice of the servant or rather attendant, remembering that they preferred that term, attendant. In his eyes, they were still servants no matter what they claimed. "What was...yes, yes of course. Hold your horse's man I'm coming" Thom said in a rough, and rather annoyed voice.
Checking one last time that his daggers were well hidden he entered the room. Thom eyed the person in the chair, giving a deep bow fit for a king. "Good evening Madam Silvan" Trying to see into the hood of the women in the chair he added, "May I favor you with a song and tale" He finished his bow and began to pull out his lute. "Perhaps of Vahn, Kromlech, and Adrianna, and their defeat of the Xantam's Guild?
Syndra Silvan stared transfixed on this curious man. She had asked her attendants to find her adventurers. Yet... if her eyes were not fooling her, it seemed this man was an entertainer. Far from being able to complete any REAL quest she would need him for. She wondered what her attendant saw in this man to warrant an invitation be given to him. Syndra motioned for the grey haired man to stand tall.
"There will be no need for that.. Bard.. What a strange fellow... she thought. "I already know much about the Xantam's history. I was once an adventurer like yourself and had an opportunity to learn much of the world during my travels. She motioned the Bard to a seat not far from her own. "Please, sit. We will have others like yourself joining us soon. Let us acquaint ourselves well we wait for the rest of my guests to arrive." She hoped the rest of the Adventurers she requested to be found would not be this.. strange.
Thom Merrillin straightened up from his bow a little disappointed that she didn't catch the hint. After all the events of the downfall of Xantam were over a hundred years ago, long forgotten by most. Those that did were the last to admit of any sort of knowledge, especially those connecting them to Eldrith the Betrayer. Perhaps if she wasn't a woman of tales, she would prefer a different form of entertainment.
Thom procured balls from inside his cloak and began juggling (Performance Roll: 13) 4 balls at first in a circle then switching to a spiral as he spoke. "If music and tales of conquest are not your things, then perhaps I can offer you some other form of entertainment." As Thom spoke the spiral became a figure eight. "I have many skills and I am sure we can find something that fits your mood" Thom quickly glanced around as if trying to figure out what that mood might be.
Damien K. Ward enters the room, escorted by a servant. His golden blonde hair leaks out from his scarlet red hood, raining down over his face, almost covering his violet eyes. From the leather armor that he wears, to the shortswords and daggers at his sides, all appear to be custom made for him, as with every step, hardly any sound is made. His movements and body language show a clear lack of disinterest in his surroundings, but at the same time, from the clear look in his eyes, and from how they seem to gaze across the entire room, he appears alert. After taking a second to analyze the room, he spots the lump of cloth in her chair and makes his way over to her, ignoring everyone else.
"Who needs to die?"
His eyes reveal a clear and sharp gaze as he stares directly at Syndra Silvan. His stance in front of her is tall, unmoving and uncaring.
Walking slowly through the city as he approaches Syndra's home, Dariel's eyes dart around him and he jumps nervously anytime he brushes against anyone, uncomfortable being around so many people after years of solitude in his beloved forests. As he arrives at the home to which he was sent, Dariel hesitates again, then knocks on the door. He follows the attendant upstairs, and upon entering the room, surveys it with his eyes, jumping again slightly, then blushing at the reaction, as a raspy voice emerges from the hooded and masked figure under the blanket in one of the chairs. He nods his thanks to the figure as he gets a goblet of wine for himself and settles down into a chair, where he drifts off in thought, barely noticing the conversation between the woman and the strange entertainer who entered just ahead of him.
Jadyn left the inn an hour before the invitation's appointed time. It shouldn't take nearly that long, but she still wasn't familiar with Baldur's Gate's layout, and expected to get lost at least once. She wasn't disappointed. Whose idea was it to have a "Bloombridge Lane" and "Bloombridge Road"? Jadyn didn't know what the design priority behind this city was, but it clearly wasn't convenience. Maybe humans enjoy being confused? Find it entertaining? It made as much sense as anything else.
A servant let Jadyn into the Silvan estate. He gestured to a weapons rack in the foyer. Jadyn glanced over, then back at the servant. "No thanks, I brought my own." The servant stammered, "Ah, no, if you would please, leave your, that is, they'll be returned after the..." Jadyn understood, finally. "Ah, right." She deposited her crossbow and dagger on the rack. Kept her shield across her back, and her holy symbol around her neck. The servant led her upstairs.
Jadyn entered Syndra's room, and appraised its occupants. The lump was presumably Syndra. Of the three others, one was juggling, one was drinking, and one was standing impatiently. Are these adventurers, or party guests? Jadyn stepped quietly out of the doorway, and waited for the meeting to get down to business.
Having finished an uneventful protection detail for a caravan up from Candlekeep, Gairlik finds himself in a local tavern in the warehouse district in Baldur's Gate where he sits quietly by himself sipping his ale all the while absent-mindedly rubbing a thumb over a locket. He downs his mug and signals the barkeep for another. When she brings him his drink he stuffs the locket away in his shirt. "Thanks... You happen to know where a dwarf can find some work...?" A few words are exchanged and he learns of a Syndra Silvan looking for a few brave souls for a task. He slowly finishes his drink and with a nod of thanks, the dwarf pays his tab - leaving a little extra for the prospect. Gairlik steps outside, adjusting his gear and begins towards his next opportunity.
"So I hear you're looking for some help with this nasty death curse business," he says to the servant answering the door. He quietly enters the room once being shown up to the third floor. He is dressed in dirty commoner's clothes - white shirt with drab green trousers and simple leather boots. He drifts through the room, giving a nod to those who seem to be here for the same reasons. With the arsenal of weapons that is strapped to him, most prominent being the maul carried on his back, the dwarf rattles a bit as he continues to survey the room, allowing his eyes to linger on the maps and charts hung on the wall.
After a moment he looks to their apparent sponsor of this adventure, "Looks like you're planning quite the trip." He takes a sip from one of the offered glasses of wine. "Yeerch... Uh, got anything besides this stuff, maybe a cask of ale hiding somewhere?"
OOC: For Jadyn and Gairlik
Syndra looked up at the two new entrants. One appeared to be a very solemn Cleric if she wasn't mistaken. The Religious follower seemed to carry no weapon. Most likely her Attendant had her deposit her tools of destruction at the door. Apparently Syndra's attendant failed to realize the most dangerous article still sat on this Ladies back. That shield was no doubt engraved with a holy symbol. It was the only tool needed for a real Cleric to unleash death or bring life to any situation. Or perhaps it was the symbol worn around her neck? In her experience each Cleric was different. Each one having their own defined taste and worshiping their Gods in their own unique way.
Syndra turned her gaze to the second entrant. Her eyes widened in surprise. This man was decked out in more battle armaments then most fighters in her adventuring days. If she had to take a guess she would assume this man was no mere fighter. It came at no surprise her attendants failed to have him stow away his weapons. They were probably terrified of him. She eyed him curiously and wondered whom informed this man of her search for adventurers? It was no secret what she was about. She had been sending them over for weeks. This man would be very useful to her.
With a snap of her finger an attendant scurried from the room. "Indeed I am. It is why I have called many of you here today." She emphasized the word many as to show her surprise at finding someone she wasn't expecting. "This.. death curse.. is more then just nasty." Her attendant returned to the room followed by two others carrying a keg of Ale into the room and placing it on the edge of a table littered with loose papers and maps. Several empty mugs were placed next to the Keg. Once satisfied with it's placement the attendants left the room. The original attendant took up his position by Syndra waiting for her next command. "Please, help yourself. Take as much as you like. Now tell me... What do any of you know about this death curse?"
Jadyn relaxed. Finally getting out of the protocol and into something she knew about: death.
"Souls are no longer making their way to the Raven Queen. She doesn't know why, or at least, didn't tell me. But something is stopping the souls of the dead from reaching the Shadowfell. She bid me put aside my earlier assignments to rectify this situation."
Jadyn realized she was fidgeting with her amulet again, and picked up a mug of ale to keep her hand occupied. She took a sip. It was bitter, with a note of honey. She realized all the eyes in the room were still fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.
"The link between soul and body is the Raven Queen's domain. People here are complaining about the inability to reconnect them, but that is really only one tiny piece."
Damien looks over to the side at the cleric, for the first time recognizing someone else in the room. The gods were unknown to him, but it didn't matter. He wasn't looking to kill a God....yet.
Looking back at the woman who gathered them here, the same indifference from before remains in his eyes,
"I'd assume that you know enough to point us where you want us to go."
Dariel shakes his head when Syndra asks what they know of the death curse. "Rumors." He says, "While getting supplies." He gazes around the room at the others, curious if the others know more than he does.
Thom quickly cessed his juggling after almost dropping one of the balls (Performance: 8). I must be getting old to let such a sudden entrance cause me to make such a slip... Thom thought to himself as he quickly stuffed the balls back into his cloak. If his sources were correct, then this women was really looking for any fool to take up her offer of a little adventure, and apparently, more than himself were at least willing to listen.
The first man to enter immediately gave Thom the impression of a man who loved killing and didn't have a problem with it being apparent to everyone around them. Thom knew his kind well and perhaps could make use of him for the right price. It was always good to be friends with an assassin. Maybe a quick word would ensure that Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard woke with a dagger in the back. After all the Council of Four definitely needed a ch... No, you fool...you said you were giving up on that no matter..... Thom started twirling his graying mustache as he leaned against the wall.
He gave a start when the next man came into a room. It had been a long while since he saw a Druid in town. Their kind like to stick to the woods, avoiding human interaction. A long time ago perhaps, Thom would have enjoyed the quiet life even if it meant giving up all his plans. Then again wasn't he giving up his plans by being here instead of earning the coin he deserved. Then again perhaps a Druid would pay well for his entertainment. It, after all, must be a boring life dedicating all your time outside of human civilization. Thom had never played for a group of Druids before, and he had very little knowledge of tales involving Druids. Perhaps he could... Thom let out a sigh. Now was not the time to be daydreaming of the next great tale, even if it did include a Druid.
If giving a start when the last man entered the room, the gasp he let out was definitely out of character. Few things surprised him but this definitely did. A Shadar-Kai was definitely a rare sight. He never expected to see one of their kind, especially in Baldur's Gate. The tales are true then Thom thought as he observed how darkness seemed to be drawn towards her. Perhaps it wasn't crazy when people who claim to have to meet Shadar-Kai tended to jump at shadows. Thom rose one eyebrow as he continued to eye the Shard-Kai, and unless he was mistaken a Cleric. He eyed her symbol. The Raven Queen? I guess even the Raven Queen, ruler of the shadowfell, first to have warlocks openly admit to worshiping her, would have need of clerics. Yes, the loss of souls would definitely interest her.
As the door opened to admit the next guess, Thom didn't even try to hide his disgust. Who had the need for that many weapons? Thom quickly tapped his shirt sleeve double checking that his dagger was still secure. That many weapons probably wouldn't even protect you from the first man, if the first man was as skilled as he thought. Then again the claims of Dwarves eyesights in the dark, even if half true, would probably spot the man before he even got close. If this man needed taking out, it would need to be done in the day and in an enclosed space where he could....... No No, we said we were done with that no matter. Thom continued eyeing those around the room, waiting to spot things he may have not noticed during his original study.
He pulled out his Lute and began adjusting the strings, most people ignored Bards outside the Taverns and Inns, on this occasion, it would suit him. Just a harmless Bard waiting to compose the next great tale, tending to his insturments.
It was supposed to be a simple trip to Baldur's Gate. Her Uncle had given her strict instructions regarding the journey: go straight there, unload the merchandise at the Hoof and Acorn, pick up supplies, and come right back. It was a simple enough task. A simple enough journey being but a three days travel along the main road, safe enough even for a young girl with only a car and a cart driver for company. Though young, her uncle trusted her enough for the simple task to only give her one warning: Do not get distracted.
"There are to be no side trips, no but oh Uncle To bid there was this flower and it was just off the path. Go there, make the trade, and come back. No explorations. No thousand questions regarding things that do not concern you. Do not get distracted. "
Which perhaps why it should be argued as to why she was following that strange man who asked after her uncle so desperately. She didn't know why anyone would want Uncle To bid so badly. But if someone needed one of his poultices, balms, or cures that badly, it was the least she could do to go in his place. Besides she was curious. And this didn't count as getting distracted not really.
Arriving at the manor, there was a spot of trouble when a servant blanched allowing Book entrance, who was slightly larger than an average house cat and looked distinctively feral. Book, of course, ignored the servant as being beneath his notice all while following his pet, as he saw Quill. Still, something was definitely odd.
Approaching some type of parlor, Quill began to hear snippets of conversation, and when the words death curse reached her ears along with the words Raven Queen, she decided there was such a thing as too much curiosity and tried to make a run for it. A large, very unknowable form blocked her path, however as the young gnome looked up and up to the unsmiling face of the butler who was silently made it clear she was to enter the parlor. Somewhat reluctantly, Quill entered the room behind Book who immediately plopped his large well fed self in front of the fire seemingly unconcerned about his mistresses discomfort. Wide green eyes darting from figure to figure, Quill cleared her throat, her innate good manners kicking in as she executed a quick bow.
"I'm sorry for intruding, but this young man" hooking a finger at the retreating from of a page, "was looking for my Uncle To bid? Terribly sorry to inform you, but he broke his ankle last sennight trying to catch a quart of elder root off the shelf or was it the slime of a wooly eel, neverthemind, doesnt matter. Laid up and cranky as a bear awoken before spring is what he is now. The lad found me instead. Not that can be much help. Low on supplies. Can't be helped, srange times these. Are you ill? Hard to tell, but you must be all bundled up like that. Can't say I can be much help though if it's curses and having to do with Raven Queen's. Don't be knowing who that is. Do not like the sound of her. I am babbling aren't I? Terribly sorry. Anyway just tell me your ails and I'll try my best to set you up right with a cordial until you can see a cleric or healer, since Uncle can't be helping this time around. Not that Uncle Tobid is a healer mind, being a merchant of spices, herbs, and exotic creatures. My mother makes most of his cures, but still he is a fine hand at finding exactly what people need even if they don't know they be needing it. I'm sure he could have helped, too bad about the ankle. ". Realizing she had continued on long enough, She suddenly stopped talking giving a sheepish smile as she scuffed her boot against the floor.
Thom eyed the newcomer as he continued plucking the cords of his Lute. She reminded him of a child he used to know some many years ago. A wide-eyed youth thrust into an adventure that they never really wanted. Recalled that he was really skilled with a bow. Maybe this adventure would be more interesting after all. It sounded like her mother was a herb healer of some sort. Thom chuckled to himself as he was reminded of another woman who claimed to be a healer. Liked to wear her hair in a braid and would constantly tug on it when things were not going how she planned. Recalled that she ended up with a man made of stone, however unlikely that seemed to be. Then again he ended up with some interesting candidates himself.
Thom realized he had been staring at the newcomer, and forgotten all about the cords of his Lute. Giving it up as a lost cause he quickly stashed it away before pulling a pipe and tabac out of a pocket of his cloak. Quickly lighting it and giving it a puff he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes in an attempt to seem uninterested. He had come to Baldur's Gate, leaving behind his land and everything he had ever known to get away from those memories and it would do him little good to think on them. They were long in the past and he doubted anyone would believe him if he did bring them up. After all many would be hard pressed to believe that the mentioning of a dragon reborn was a man, rather than a fancy way of bringing attention to a newly hatched baby dragon. Yes, it was best to erase that past, to bad it was impossible to run from dreams.
Jadyn turned when she heard the door open again. She watched a large cat, and an only slightly larger gnome, walk in. The gnome started talking so quietly and so quickly that Jadyn had a hard time keeping up. Something about a spice merchant uncle? Was this girl lost? But no, she was wearing armor and had both a bow and a sword. She was too well equipped to be hunting rabbits. This gnome was probably more afraid of this parlor than she was of a bear.
I should try to make this poor gnome feel safe. How do they do that here? They love their food, right?
Jadyn filled another mug with ale and held it out toward the gnome. "Welcome, little one. We were just discussing this so-called 'death curse' and its effect on souls. But there's ale, too, so, uh, don't let your existential fear of death stop you from enjoying yourself!" Jadyn tried smiling at the gnome. I don't think I'm doing this right.
Lesnalore stepped in to the parlor last. Her human and elvish features blending into a soft childlike face but her clothing spoke to the distance she had traveled. The clean yet well worn travel clothing she wore, fit perfectly for exploration in dark greens of her shirt and coat and light browns of the boots and gloves she wore. On each side of her hips an dagger hostler, along with a quiver on her left, with a light crossbow leather holder across her back, all of course empty at the request on the servants.
"Apologizes on my lateness, traveling has given me a good sense of destination if not the greatest of accuracy in time. But don't stop on my account."
Offering up her hands slightly defensively she made her way into the parlor, shifting past to be right next to the door way as she stood behind one of the other sitting adventurers. Looking around the room she attempted to size them all up. Offering a soft smile to any she made contact with. A disarming smile is the best foot to start on after-all. Then refocusing in on the Lady Syndra, making a mental note of the different looks of the many called here today, knowing it was the Death Curse that they were called but still questioning why Syndra had such an interest in it. Her gloved hand cupping her chin as she thought to herself.
As her eyes grew wide at the disturbing smile of the strange woman who had no pupils, Quill quickly scanned the room prepared to make a fast retreat when she noticed something odd about the woman who was trying to use the soothing tones as she spoke, "Welcome little one, we were just discussing...." Her words disappearing into back ground noise as Quill took a quick step closer , her head cooked to one side.
Strange. "How do you do that?" Not realizing she had spoken outloud, Quill began circling this strange human. ...Not human....other, maybe, "The shadows....they bend towards you, blend, drawn," leaning close but not too close she peered into the woman's face as she darted around her muttering to herself "it's like your dark, but not dark. Shadowy. Weird eyes too. Very interesting. Demon, no not a demon, at least I don't think your a demon."
A lyrical voice suddenly snapped back to reality as she took a few steps back out of the shadowy woman's space before promptly landing startled. Shaking her head as if to clear it from the case she had been in, her quick eyes took in the rest of the room: an sorry motely gentleman whose life betrayed him as a bard, a dwarf, a scowling man, a silent bidding stranger, and now an elf.
Blinking from her position on the floor, Quill turned towards the woman her voice unnaturally high as she squeaked, "I think there's been some sort of mistake..." Clearing her throat she continued her normal lower alto register, "I think I should go..." Her effort to stand up at that moment was however impeded by Book who decided at that moment that she was a much better pillow than the floor. Book, being nearly half her size and quite well fed was tremendously difficult to move when he didn't wish to be moved, seemed quite content to stay in his current comfortable position successfully trapping her there until he decided to move. Throwing up her hands in the air, Quill designed herself to staying.
"Fine, have it your way! Looks like I'm staying....which reminds me," turning her observant gaze back to the bundled up woman in a chair, " Why were you looking for Uncle To Bid anyway? Can't imagine he be much use for curses. A balm of healing, a pack of cinnamon, a silk gown, sure...But curses? And what exactly is this.... " searching her memory for what she vaguely heard the shadow woman mention, "death curse you are speaking of anyway?"