The Crimson Blade. A refitted warship of the Last War. For you, it is a beginning and hope for a better life.
On the deck a few sailors are loading supplies under the watchful eye of a black furred hulking minotaur.
As you approach the board leading to the main deck you see a male halfling with rich clothes and finally combed hair mention you forward.
“Welcome aboard on the Blade.” He chimes in a sweet sing song voice.” My name is Gino. I m here to help in any way I can. Need anything just ask.” He smiles broadly.
“For now, the captain would like to see you and the rest of the team for a quick talk.” He drops his smile, “Seems something came up and we might need you sooner than later. Hope you’re ready.”
He moves to take you to the captain’s door.
Inside, the room is large but clustered with books and odd artifacts. A lanky human sits in front of a large table reading, probably not for the first time a piece of paper.
He looks up with tired eyes and smiles.
“Please take a seat. We will begin once everyone is here.”
Here are a few words on Sharn
Sharn is the largest city in Khorvaire, with a population of half a million people. Humans make up about a third of that number, and dwarves are a sixth of it; the rest is a blend of every race found across Khorvaire. Halflings, elves, and gnomes all have a significant presence in the city, but even kalashtar and changelings have communities in Sharn. Beyond the permanent population, tens of thousands of people pass through Sharn every day. Refugees from the war still find their way to the city, along with tourists, spies, merchants, and folk hoping to find their fortune in the grandest city in Eberron.
Sharn stands above the Dagger River and its eastern tributary, the Hilt. It’s an important port for anyone dealing with Aerenal, Xen’drik, or Sarlona. Mountains line the shores of the Dagger, and Sharn can’t spread out. So instead it has grown ever upward.
A very young half elf finds a seat near the end. He’s short, thin, and clearly just out of adolescence, but has a shrewd enough demeanor for his age. He’s wearing a plain set of brown shirt and pants, with a coat that hangs just past his waist, and hauling a backpack stuffed with little paper-wrapped packages that look like send-off gifts from whatever backwater he came from. That said, he’s got a nice enough look to him. He looks around, anxious to see who sits next to him.
A young human male sits next to half elf, giving him a smile and nod in greeting as he takes his seat. He has brown, messy hair and stubble on his chin indicating he hasn't bothered to clean up recently though he doesn't appear overly dirty either. He wears a white linen shirt and fine dark pants under a leather vest, gloves and boots. Around his next is a green ascot. He sits up straight and proper as he awaits the others.
Walking into the room is a man with long brown hair up to his shoulders, with sideburns reaching halfway across his cheeks. A decent looking man with a muscular figure, not to bulky. Wearing a simple leather outfit, all wrapped tight enough for him to move smoothly as he steps inside. He stands still a moment as the captain motions him to sit down.
Very wellhe mumbles under his breath. As he opens his mouth a perceptive person would notice his fangs are just slightly larger than a normal. In other aspects he looks like a human, perhaps a bit hairer at best.
He then moves to take a seat with some room between him and the ones already sitting down. Also making sure he can see anyone that enters the room. At each side of his legs he has a sword which he moves aside to sit without them hitting the chair. On his belt a few small bags are shown next to a horn thats dangling on a small loop on his belt.
He crosses his arms and waits for the others to arrive.
A Warforged of roughly 6'8" in height, clad with interlocked scales of metal and hardened bark from trees, follows into presumably the captain's quarters while retroactively does he raise a shield to his chest for a moment before stopping themself. Opting not to sit on comfortable spaces, he instead sits on the floor expectantly. These blue-green eyes scan the room's interior for no other reason than to abide for time.
As for anyone who wishes to glance but a moment to the Warforged, you can tell that the metal scales of the armor are of an elven descent, crafted with intricate hands and coloured in prominent green and purple hues. This warforged's body is overgrown with plantation, moss, and some vines that ocassionally hang off of his arms and legs, seemingly living only through the essence and wood of the warforged itself. At the right of the warforged's chest is a hole that formed cracks of yellow around it, now leaving a dull cracked feature to the scale mail affected. On the other hand, they have a traveler's cloak, reused to be as a scarf worn on their hard-wood neck, and their head looks similar to the symbol of a solid shield.
A women with strawberry blonde hair tied neatly to the back of her head in a bun, her dragonmark obvious to any onlooker as it climbs up the side of her neck. She sits down and pulls out a pair of goggles before going to mess with them, muttering to herself about them needing to be recalibrated.
Standing in front of the desks, next to the chairs is a human man, in his mid 20s. He is a man who could be lost in a crowd very easily, not because he is trying but because of his look. He stands just about 6 foot tall and 200 pounds very muscular. He has medium brown hair, and eyes, no prominent facial features, tattoos or scars. His hands are behind his back and feet slightly spread. He has a very disciplined face on. He is wearing a tattered tabard with the crest ripped off the front, His shield that is slung across his back you can tell has been painted over several times.
The captain gets up while you all take your places.
" We can start as we wait for our last comrade. We are embarking into a perilous journey, I won't lie to you, that will make us either very rich or very dead. You will all be very well compensated of course and you will have a share on all the treasure and gold found." He looks at you all waiting for a question.
Fletcher looks at the rest of them with their orb-formed eyes before turning to look back at the captain. The warforged is quite content with what the captain has said so far, and does not say a word. With his expressionless face, he takes out the bow strung on his person, before he tries pulling back a bow made from a form of acacia bark while coiled along the bottom and top limb is a silver bow string which he pulls back.
Marcus shifts is gaze from the Captain to each of the others in the room, not failing to notice the member of House Cannith in the room, or the peculiar warfoged. His attention was locked on the war forged as he played with his weapons before finally speaking out. Excuse me Ma'am but it seems you're warforged is in a bit of a sorry looking state. I always thought you Cannith types took better care of you're contraptions. Oh wait. It's Camouflage isn't it? Hmmm clever.
Marcus maintains enough attention to the pair to entertain a response if there is one before turning back to the captain. Yes Captain, I'm sure the payment is all well and good. But I too am curious as to where this little venture will take us.
Beowulf will watch the responses from the others and their interactions before speaking up.
Let us get started then, the room is too crowded now anyway. He smirks with his last remark. He will then search one of his bags for some bread and start eating it as he waits for the captain.
The Captain nods at the questions, waiting for all to finish. He almost jumps in at Marcus remarks but stops himself.
"I understand you trepidation." He begins ordering his thoughts," First of all I can't tell you where we are going, "he holds up a hand forestalling any further questions. "Not that I don't want to but because I don't know myself. I need more information and that's were you are going to come in. As for treasure, there are many relics of the Last War hidden and we are going to find some of them."
He moves back to his seat.
"Now," he takes a deep breath," I have come upon some information and I need you to go meet a contact for me. His name is Dolin Ferrar. He is a dwarf who worked on a secret project a few years back for a House and he is willing to sell me some of his knowledge. He is under the protection of a group known as the Daask, because he is hunted, and they just agreed to let me meet him." He smiles. " You."
"Go to the Red Dragon Inn in Tavick's Landing, 3 rd sector. Gino has readied a fly coach for you to take."He gets up once more. " But first go make yourself at home on my ship. The cabins have been prepared. We meet back on the top deck in an hour."
OOC: Here is some knowledge your character might have ( At your discretion.)
Tavick’s Landing
Everyone who comes to Sharn, whether by land or air, passes through Tavick’s Landing. The quarter took on a martial aspect during the Last War, and the tense atmosphere can still be felt today. On the positive side, Watch Commander Iyanna ir’Talan has gone to great efforts to purge corruption in the local garrisons of the Sharn Watch; as a result, this is one of the few districts where the Watch is both helpful and competent. On the downside, visitors from any nation that fought against Breland during the war might be greeted with suspicion or hostility.
Daask
Founded by monstrous immigrants from Droaam, the criminal organization known as Daask has been building its power for a decade and has recently begun an aggressive campaign of expansion. Daask engages mainly in violent crime, including armed robbery, assault, arson, and murder. As its reputation has grown, it has added extortion to this list.
DROAAM
Droaam is a nation of monsters ruled by the Daughters of Sora Kell. Each of these three hags is a legend in her own right, the subjects of tales used to frighten children. Eleven years ago, they seized the lands west of the Graywall Mountains and founded the nation of Droaam.
Although Breland laid claim to these barren lands, Galifar had never tamed this wild region. Gnolls, orcs, and goblins commonly sought haven here, as well as ogres, trolls, harpies, minotaurs, medusas, tieflings, changelings, lycanthropes, and other races unwelcome in civilized lands. In the past, these creatures fought one another more often than they raided human settlements. Under the leadership of the Daughters of Sora Kell, they have new purpose. The Daughters use an army of ogres and war trolls to maintain order.
To date, the other nations of Khorvaire have refused to recognize Droaam, and the region was not acknowledged in the Treaty of Thronehold. Most people believe that the monstrous nation can’t last—that even the Daughters can’t hold the disparate alliance together—but Droaam is currently thriving and stronger than ever.
Walben will go look for a cabin, bounce on the bed a couple times, and then wander off to see what he can learn about how the ship moves, til it’s time to leave.
Seeing that one of their group has left the room, Fletcher decides to get up and trudges along the way out of the captain's quarters into the navigation deck, looking out of the forecastle while sitting on some part of the exterior hull. It takes him awhile to appreciate the feeling of being up in the air, and the Warforged appreciates this compared to being in forests, yet he can't pinpoint how or why.
Walben can't get a fix on the words and the meaning of the lullaby escapes him.
A bleu flame purres, almost like a pleased cat, next to the young wizard. Stranges contractions of different sape and metal run alang most of the walls in this room.
The Crimson Blade. A refitted warship of the Last War. For you, it is a beginning and hope for a better life.
On the deck a few sailors are loading supplies under the watchful eye of a black furred hulking minotaur.
As you approach the board leading to the main deck you see a male halfling with rich clothes and finally combed hair mention you forward.
“Welcome aboard on the Blade.” He chimes in a sweet sing song voice.” My name is Gino. I m here to help in any way I can. Need anything just ask.” He smiles broadly.
“For now, the captain would like to see you and the rest of the team for a quick talk.” He drops his smile, “Seems something came up and we might need you sooner than later. Hope you’re ready.”
He moves to take you to the captain’s door.
Inside, the room is large but clustered with books and odd artifacts. A lanky human sits in front of a large table reading, probably not for the first time a piece of paper.
He looks up with tired eyes and smiles.
“Please take a seat. We will begin once everyone is here.”
Here are a few words on Sharn
Sharn is the largest city in Khorvaire, with a population of half a million people. Humans make up about a third of that number, and dwarves are a sixth of it; the rest is a blend of every race found across Khorvaire. Halflings, elves, and gnomes all have a significant presence in the city, but even kalashtar and changelings have communities in Sharn. Beyond the permanent population, tens of thousands of people pass through Sharn every day. Refugees from the war still find their way to the city, along with tourists, spies, merchants, and folk hoping to find their fortune in the grandest city in Eberron.
Sharn stands above the Dagger River and its eastern tributary, the Hilt. It’s an important port for anyone dealing with Aerenal, Xen’drik, or Sarlona. Mountains line the shores of the Dagger, and Sharn can’t spread out. So instead it has grown ever upward.
OOC:
Map of Khorvaire
https://www.worldanvil.com/w/eberron-gamorust/map/e26c5cf8-486c-4e70-98fd-f1698092d84f
Map of the Crimson Blade
https://www.worldanvil.com/w/eberron-gamorust/map/ca7411d6-a152-4cd7-9a44-039bcd835078
A very young half elf finds a seat near the end. He’s short, thin, and clearly just out of adolescence, but has a shrewd enough demeanor for his age. He’s wearing a plain set of brown shirt and pants, with a coat that hangs just past his waist, and hauling a backpack stuffed with little paper-wrapped packages that look like send-off gifts from whatever backwater he came from. That said, he’s got a nice enough look to him.
He looks around, anxious to see who sits next to him.
Paladin - warforged - orange
A young human male sits next to half elf, giving him a smile and nod in greeting as he takes his seat. He has brown, messy hair and stubble on his chin indicating he hasn't bothered to clean up recently though he doesn't appear overly dirty either. He wears a white linen shirt and fine dark pants under a leather vest, gloves and boots. Around his next is a green ascot. He sits up straight and proper as he awaits the others.
Walking into the room is a man with long brown hair up to his shoulders, with sideburns reaching halfway across his cheeks. A decent looking man with a muscular figure, not to bulky. Wearing a simple leather outfit, all wrapped tight enough for him to move smoothly as he steps inside. He stands still a moment as the captain motions him to sit down.
Very well he mumbles under his breath. As he opens his mouth a perceptive person would notice his fangs are just slightly larger than a normal. In other aspects he looks like a human, perhaps a bit hairer at best.
He then moves to take a seat with some room between him and the ones already sitting down. Also making sure he can see anyone that enters the room. At each side of his legs he has a sword which he moves aside to sit without them hitting the chair. On his belt a few small bags are shown next to a horn thats dangling on a small loop on his belt.
He crosses his arms and waits for the others to arrive.
Fletcher
A Warforged of roughly 6'8" in height, clad with interlocked scales of metal and hardened bark from trees, follows into presumably the captain's quarters while retroactively does he raise a shield to his chest for a moment before stopping themself. Opting not to sit on comfortable spaces, he instead sits on the floor expectantly. These blue-green eyes scan the room's interior for no other reason than to abide for time.
As for anyone who wishes to glance but a moment to the Warforged, you can tell that the metal scales of the armor are of an elven descent, crafted with intricate hands and coloured in prominent green and purple hues. This warforged's body is overgrown with plantation, moss, and some vines that ocassionally hang off of his arms and legs, seemingly living only through the essence and wood of the warforged itself. At the right of the warforged's chest is a hole that formed cracks of yellow around it, now leaving a dull cracked feature to the scale mail affected. On the other hand, they have a traveler's cloak, reused to be as a scarf worn on their hard-wood neck, and their head looks similar to the symbol of a solid shield.
((rought drawing<ish>))
A women with strawberry blonde hair tied neatly to the back of her head in a bun, her dragonmark obvious to any onlooker as it climbs up the side of her neck. She sits down and pulls out a pair of goggles before going to mess with them, muttering to herself about them needing to be recalibrated.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Standing in front of the desks, next to the chairs is a human man, in his mid 20s. He is a man who could be lost in a crowd very easily, not because he is trying but because of his look. He stands just about 6 foot tall and 200 pounds very muscular. He has medium brown hair, and eyes, no prominent facial features, tattoos or scars. His hands are behind his back and feet slightly spread. He has a very disciplined face on. He is wearing a tattered tabard with the crest ripped off the front, His shield that is slung across his back you can tell has been painted over several times.
(Edit: I messed up Thom's age)
Thom Everyman- Midgard One Shots
DMing- The Voyage of the Fallen Star
The captain gets up while you all take your places.
" We can start as we wait for our last comrade. We are embarking into a perilous journey, I won't lie to you, that will make us either very rich or very dead. You will all be very well compensated of course and you will have a share on all the treasure and gold found." He looks at you all waiting for a question.
Walben, the young half elf, raises his hand. “Sir? Where are we going? What treasure?”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Thom saids with a face that is a little more wooried than it is excitded.
Thom Everyman- Midgard One Shots
DMing- The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Fletcher
Fletcher looks at the rest of them with their orb-formed eyes before turning to look back at the captain. The warforged is quite content with what the captain has said so far, and does not say a word. With his expressionless face, he takes out the bow strung on his person, before he tries pulling back a bow made from a form of acacia bark while coiled along the bottom and top limb is a silver bow string which he pulls back.
Marcus shifts is gaze from the Captain to each of the others in the room, not failing to notice the member of House Cannith in the room, or the peculiar warfoged. His attention was locked on the war forged as he played with his weapons before finally speaking out. Excuse me Ma'am but it seems you're warforged is in a bit of a sorry looking state. I always thought you Cannith types took better care of you're contraptions. Oh wait. It's Camouflage isn't it? Hmmm clever.
Marcus maintains enough attention to the pair to entertain a response if there is one before turning back to the captain. Yes Captain, I'm sure the payment is all well and good. But I too am curious as to where this little venture will take us.
Beowulf will watch the responses from the others and their interactions before speaking up.
Let us get started then, the room is too crowded now anyway. He smirks with his last remark. He will then search one of his bags for some bread and start eating it as he waits for the captain.
The Captain nods at the questions, waiting for all to finish. He almost jumps in at Marcus remarks but stops himself.
"I understand you trepidation." He begins ordering his thoughts," First of all I can't tell you where we are going, " he holds up a hand forestalling any further questions. "Not that I don't want to but because I don't know myself. I need more information and that's were you are going to come in. As for treasure, there are many relics of the Last War hidden and we are going to find some of them."
He moves back to his seat.
"Now, " he takes a deep breath," I have come upon some information and I need you to go meet a contact for me. His name is Dolin Ferrar. He is a dwarf who worked on a secret project a few years back for a House and he is willing to sell me some of his knowledge. He is under the protection of a group known as the Daask, because he is hunted, and they just agreed to let me meet him." He smiles. " You."
"Go to the Red Dragon Inn in Tavick's Landing, 3 rd sector. Gino has readied a fly coach for you to take." He gets up once more. " But first go make yourself at home on my ship. The cabins have been prepared. We meet back on the top deck in an hour."
OOC: Here is some knowledge your character might have ( At your discretion.)
Tavick’s Landing
Everyone who comes to Sharn, whether by land or air, passes through Tavick’s Landing. The quarter took on a martial aspect during the Last War, and the tense atmosphere can still be felt today. On the positive side, Watch Commander Iyanna ir’Talan has gone to great efforts to purge corruption in the local garrisons of the Sharn Watch; as a result, this is one of the few districts where the Watch is both helpful and competent. On the downside, visitors from any nation that fought against Breland during the war might be greeted with suspicion or hostility.
Daask
Founded by monstrous immigrants from Droaam, the criminal organization known as Daask has been building its power for a decade and has recently begun an aggressive campaign of expansion. Daask engages mainly in violent crime, including armed robbery, assault, arson, and murder. As its reputation has grown, it has added extortion to this list.
DROAAM
Droaam is a nation of monsters ruled by the Daughters of Sora Kell. Each of these three hags is a legend in her own right, the subjects of tales used to frighten children. Eleven years ago, they seized the lands west of the Graywall Mountains and founded the nation of Droaam.
Although Breland laid claim to these barren lands, Galifar had never tamed this wild region. Gnolls, orcs, and goblins commonly sought haven here, as well as ogres, trolls, harpies, minotaurs, medusas, tieflings, changelings, lycanthropes, and other races unwelcome in civilized lands. In the past, these creatures fought one another more often than they raided human settlements. Under the leadership of the Daughters of Sora Kell, they have new purpose. The Daughters use an army of ogres and war trolls to maintain order.
To date, the other nations of Khorvaire have refused to recognize Droaam, and the region was not acknowledged in the Treaty of Thronehold. Most people believe that the monstrous nation can’t last—that even the Daughters can’t hold the disparate alliance together—but Droaam is currently thriving and stronger than ever.
Walben will go look for a cabin, bounce on the bed a couple times, and then wander off to see what he can learn about how the ship moves, til it’s time to leave.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Walben moves around the ship and realises that the crew is at minimum. Seems a bit strange.
As he wander toward the aft he meets a young woman singing a magical lullaby. The words are calming.
Make an Arcana check please DC 14
Walben; arcana 20
Paladin - warforged - orange
Fletcher
Seeing that one of their group has left the room, Fletcher decides to get up and trudges along the way out of the captain's quarters into the navigation deck, looking out of the forecastle while sitting on some part of the exterior hull. It takes him awhile to appreciate the feeling of being up in the air, and the Warforged appreciates this compared to being in forests, yet he can't pinpoint how or why.
Walben can't get a fix on the words and the meaning of the lullaby escapes him.
A bleu flame purres, almost like a pleased cat, next to the young wizard. Stranges contractions of different sape and metal run alang most of the walls in this room.
(OOC hope high up are we?)
Thom Everyman- Midgard One Shots
DMing- The Voyage of the Fallen Star