As your party heads down the stairs into the basement, a horrifying sight awaits you! Your DM's corpse lies on the ground, shriveled up. In his place is the lich Acererak!

WELCOME, MORTALS! WHO IS PREPARED FOR THE DUNGEONEERING OF THE DRAGONS!

He leans back in his chair and reads a slip of paper.

SO, LET ME SEE IF I GOT THIS RIGHT. GENE, AARAKOCKRA RANGER, TAB QUICKCLAW, TABAXI MONK, MELANTHIOS SERPENTCRUSHER, HUMAN FIGHTER, ZASHIER "NOBODY" BLEAKSTONE, TIEFLING WIZARD, AND GYNUGRI, GOBLIN DRUID.

He opens up the Tomb of Annihilation module and begins reading.

OK, LET'S START! 

DISASTER HAS STRUCK FAERUN! FOR NEARLY THE PAST MONTH, THE TALK OF THE STREETS HAS BEEN ABOUT THE DEATH CURSE, A TERRIBLE DISEASE THAT HAS APPARENTLY SPREAD ALL OVER FAERUN! IT TARGETS THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN RESTORED TO LIFE BY MAGIC, SEEMINGLY DRAINING THE LIFE FROM THEM AS THEY GROW THINNER AND WEAKER, UNTIL THEY FINALLY CROAK. MAGICAL RESURRECTION  FAILS, AND TEMPLES AND SCHOLARS OF DIVINE MAGIC ARE AT A LOSS TO EXPLAIN THIS DREADFUL CURSE!

RECENTLY, A POSTER WAS POSTED ON THE POSTER POSTING POST, LOOKING FOR ADVENTURERS TO MAN AN EXPEDITION TO CHULT. THE POSTER INVITES YOU TO THE HOUSE OF SYNDRA SYLVANE, A RETIRED ADVENTURER AND MERCHANT. THIS IS WHERE YOUR STORY STARTS!

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. A person is seated in an overstuffed chair near the fire. You can't discern a gender, because only the person's head emerges from under a heavy blanket draped over the chair, and an embroidered hood and silver mask con· ceal 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"

"I don't know, are you our friend?"  Melanthios says, pouring himself a glass and sitting down, lounging back nonchalantly.  "Can you offer work?  If so, yes, I would consider you my friend."

Melanthios is an average height, rather thin human with unkempt black hair and a permanent smirk.  He wears leather armor dyed dark green and black, and carries a bow with a quiver of arrows on his belt.  A rapier is attached to his belt.

"You did see my poster, did you not? The one offering work? If not, you are trespassing, please get out of my house."

(Whoops, totally missed that.)

”Hmph.  Just checking.”

"Now that you're all here, let me fill you in on the details. Long ago I was an adventurer. I died, and was raised. I decided to put my back to the adventuring life forever. However, I am now afflicted with the Death Curse, which is slowly killing me. I don't know how long I'll last, and clerics can't help me. I have contacts within the Harpers who have informed me that this Death Curse is caused by a magical device known as the Soulmonger, located somewhere within the jungles of Chult."

Tab pads softly around the room, ignoring the wine on the table but taking small sips from a palm sized flask as he soaks in the decor.

Now let's not be too hasty, darlings - we did see your poster, and we're happy to be of service - just making sure this isn't a hustle, that's all.

With surprising grace and fluidity, even for one of the catfolk, Tab curls up on the floor between Melanthios and the fire. The light reveals a thin form covered in modest clothing, torn and dirty and barely covering short mottled fur. A worn handaxe and a few pouches dangle from a belt, but Tab bats the small metal flask absentmindedly in his lap as he waits for more information from his host.

"Oh! Oh! I think -- no wait.... Yes! I think I've heard of that place. Though not much. Other things to study. Many things." Nobody says, breaking concentration on examining the room to properly step out of a nearby shadow. "And, and...." He trails off looking to the others, and then with a small grin adds, "And I should probably shut up now.... Sorry!" He steps partway back into whatever little gloom is in the room.

Nobody is tall even by Tiefling standards, but lanky and tends to slouch forward. Every inch of him except the inner portion of his mouth is pitch black unlike most tieflings. In place of armor, all he has are well-worn common clothes, an outer cloak/robe with many inner pockets. Unlike the rest of him, but the exception of the cloak, his clothing he wears were dyed varying shades of standard browns. A black-iron staff rest ever in hand.

Melanthios will stare hard at his host, trying to get a read on the veracity of her story: 14

"I would be happy to lend my expertise to such a cause.  However, there would of course be a price . . .

Melanthios will raise his eyebrows slightly at the antics of the tabaxi and the tiefling.

"And you would be?"

Gene stands near the door in a forcedly relaxed stance. "Understood, damn shame. I am ready to go, sir.. or madam."

"Just call me Syndra. Anyway, 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. Working from dozens of sea charts, log books, and explorers' journals, l assembled everything known about the current state of Chult into one map. I'll provide it to you if you undertake my mission."

Melanthios will start to slowly grin.  This grin seems to virtually ooze confidence.

"Goblins?  Reptiles?  Undead?  Ruins?  Sounds like the most fun I've had since that one job in the Underdark.  Count me in!"

(Melanthios has an odd idea of fun.)

"And, of course, there will be a reward. I have many magical items from my adventures, and would be willing to grant you each one if you do this for me. Now, if you are all ready, I have a ship ready to set sail for Chult."

Melanthios will cock an eyebrow slightly.

"I'm always ready."

"You had me at 'prowl', Madam. I've been looking for a means to get off the street and stretch my legs, anyway." Tab looks around at the others. "Feel like discovering something new?" 

"I did promise to take the road less traveled." The tiefling mutters to himself.

Nobody will fidget and chew on a nail nervously for awhile before stepping forth again with a declaration. 

"Well I can't just sit back and let this curse run amok. So, count me in, milady!"

"Now wait a minute merchant Syndra. Not all goblins are savages by choice."

The rest can see a vagrant looking goblin walking slowly upstairs. His unkempt appearance and hint of foul odor wafts from his body due to his state of living.

"Sorry for being late, these stairs are too long and the floor is too high for me to walk with the rest in the same pace. I just heard we're going to travel immediately."

He looks back at the steps he arduosly took to come here.

"Please don't say I just walked these abominable stairs just to come down immediately. At least let me take that bottle of wine as a compensation for my troubles."

Melanthios will inch his chair away from the smell.

"Easy on the judgement there, my pink friend. Not all of us bathe the same way you're used to." Tab absent-mindedly licks the back of his forearm, eyes locked on Melanthios. "If we're all going to travel together, may as well start making some introductions - I'm Tab, probably short for something but who can remember these things, yes? Life's too full of other interesting pursuits." 

Tab punctuates the sentence with a healthy swig from his small flask, then shakes it near his ear to consider how much he has left and whether he needs to refill at this particular juncture.

“Melanthios.  Melanthios Serpentcrusher.”

The goblin walks nonchalantly towards the bottle of wine and attempts to pocket it.

"It seems Melanthios is not accustomed to this foul smell. That would be a problem since the smell of decay and death comes hand in hand. Since our quest is related to those things, let me help you gain more experience."

The goblin casts Druidcraft at Melanthios and a faint odor of skunk can be smelled in his vicinity.

"My name is Gynugri, one of nature's countless extension of indomitable will. Pleasure to meet you all fellow comrades."