A Quest for Heroes

Game Master Billybrainpan

The four of you sit in the middle of a large ante-chamber, awaiting your audience with the king. The chamber is lavishly furnished with draperies, plush chairs and couches spread throughout in excess. The middle of the room is taken up by a low oaken table carved with elaborate wooden monsters fighting legendary heroes. There are two exits from this room. The one you came through, a fine red curtain covering the entrance to a long spiral staircase, and a large gilded door covered in ornate metal work and magical runes, it stands just a bit taller than Eloron's full height. A guard stands on either side of the door leaning on a pole axe and staring blankly ahead.

This is just an intro to set an area for you all to start role-playing. I will make a longer more official post later tonight or tomorrow.

For the last five years all of Clichea has been enjoying a time of peace and prosperity. The Reach and Gondar maintain a strict peace treaty under the condition that neither military enters the other’s territory under any circumstance. The vikings of Vikingheim’s raids seemed to have slowed and they rarely travel farther than The kingswood. The breach in the wall was permanently sealed and the Berserkers of Asgard have not been seen in Gondar since. Gothmor has been uncharacteristically quiet, not so much as a few stray zombies straying into Elvenhome. But like all times of peace there are whispers. some true, others not, but all of death, destruction, and mayhem. If the stories are true, the dark woods are spreading, mount death grows ever more agitated, the souls of the damned slowly claw there way out from The Black City’s watery grave, evil of all types amasses at the dark tower awaiting some sinister plan, the giants of the north roam freely once again ever closer to the wall, something ancient is stirring beneath Kazzakrad, the maelstrom grows more powerful, and ancient dragons are awakening from long slumbers. But that can’t all be true, for so much evil to manifest at once would take the intervention of a truly powerful and vile being, something stronger than even the gods them selves, something truly cruel and twisted, playing with fate, nay life itself, like some sadistic gamemaster.

A steward slips into the room through one of the doors.

” King Lysander will see you now. Before you enter, might I remind you of a few things. Mighty heroes as you may be your weapons are not to be drawn in the presence of the kings, nor are any magics of any sort to be used. Remain ten feet from the throne at all times, The king will be referred to only as ‘your grace’ or ‘my king’. Welcome to the court of King Lysander Garrington the Third.”

The steward stands to the side and gesture for you to enter. The guards swing the double doors open to reveal a surprisingly humble throne room. The walls are bare save a large lion crest on the far wall and three simple white and yellow tapestries with the Garrington lion embroidered in golden thread along each side of the room. Two rows of thick stone pillars separate the space into three sections, the middle being a walkway down the center. At the far end of the room on an elegant golden throne sits King Lysander Garrington III. King Lysander wears a simple white tunic and brown leather pants, his salt and pepper hair appears a bit tousled although his beard remains well groomed. A heavy gold crown, encrusted with gems of all types rests upon his brow. On either side of the king sit Prince Lionel, heir apparent, and Queen Annabella. Standing directly behind the throne are an old man dressed in Grey and purple robes whispering something to the king, and a twisted looking hunchback dressed in old brown burlap. Arranged in a half circle in front of the throne are the king’s guards. Five Guards each representing one of the races of Lionguard: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Halfings, and Gnomes. The guards separate as you approach the throne. The gnome, a bald fellow with clouded grey eyes slowly backs to the throne and sits cross legged directly in front of the king. King Lysander looks visibly relieved to see you, you note that the Queen looks to be on the verge of tears.

The King speaks in a deep clear voice.
”My thanks to you all for accepting my summons so promptly, I was not sure I would be able to contact you all in time. Welcome Steel Falcon, and you Eloron and Azriel. I see you have brought a fourth. I trust she is of a caliber worthy of such company as your own. Young lady, what might I call you?”

Assuming nothing dramatic happens in the introduction so I'm continuing on for streamlining purposes.

”I must confess, I have called you here today not to serve the City of Lionguard or even for the good of all Gondar. The nature of my summons is much more personal. A week ago my younger daughter, Princess Adelaide made her monthly trip to old town for the market fair. A day after her party left a badly burned foot soldier managed to stumble through the outer gate. Adelaide’s entire entourage was wiped out, by a dragon, a red dragon to be precise. As i’m sure you know the only red that has been sighted in Clichea in the last ten years is Neleroth the Fire Wyrm.

The Steel Falcon's voice is lower than one might expect, and also oddly metallic. His tone is deferent and kind, however.

"Do not be so hard on yourself, your grace. You are not the only who has lost a child to Nereloth. The realm will benefit from the return of its princess, and if the wyrm believes it can roam so far into Gondar with impunity, the realm will benefit from its execution. If the brothers' skills are half what their reputation suggests–" he turns and looks at Azriel "I can imagine worse traveling companions."

He seems to be considering something, then turns back to the king and bows slightly. "You have my blades, your grace."

Zystra gazes around the room in an interested, but still aloof manner. Asked for her name, she responds:

All who remain in this world have seen fit to call me Zystra.

After the steel falcon speaks, she says:

A wyvern flies west as a girl comes from the east. Send a child to save a child and a monster to slay another, wise decisions. When we meet, will blood and fire flow? Or one alone? I am willing to learn these things.

The Steel Falcon looks around at Zystra as she speaks, seeming to notice her for the first time. He inclines his head slightly, saying nothing, then turns to the brothers to hear their response.

Azriel hardly notices the manor in which Zystra speaks, apparently used to it after there travels. Nodding slightly as she speaks as if to agree with her every word, catching the Steel Falcons eye I speak.

Your grace I can speak at length to the qualifications of this brave warrior, thought I would be the last to call her child, even in light of her scant years. I speak for my bother and I on this matter I do believe.

I look slightly at Eloron, before waiting for his response I continue on.

My king, my queen, I know this might be a hard request to ask but in this trying hour I come offering what aid I can, are there any items that your daughter held dear to her, that she left here. More specifically are there any that I may have, and would not be missed were they consumed in the arcane power of a divination or three?

I pause for a moment, starring off into space as if I had forgotten something. An Ioun stone slowly orbits in front of my eyes with a faint hum of arcane power.

COUGHING

Pardon your grace, my cough... COUGHING

I wave to Eloron urging him to speak as I cough heavily into my robe.

Eloron places a massive hand on his brothers back with almost impossible tenderness.

My brother speaks for us both... your grace.

Elorons eyes are warm and soft, watching his brother waiting for the cough to pass.

COUGHING

I straighten up and node my thanks to my brother.

Upon receipt of an item belonging to your daughter, for a divination your grace, we shall with all haste travel to the dragon tail islands, and where the Dancing Dragoons failed, we shall put an end to Neleroth and return your daughter. Well we may have to make several stops to provision ourselves for the endeavor, but after that we shall travel with all haste. Ohhh and we will have to stop to pick up a full order of sweet rolls.

The Steel Falcon glances at the king as Azriel mentions the Dancing Dragoons, but he does not speak.

King Lysander looks around at each of you as you speak, nodding in recognition after each hero voices their acceptance. Queen Annabella straightens up at the mention of her daughter's possessions. She slowly stands from her throne and crosses to Azriel, a notably unusual act for a member of the royal family. She clasps the wizard's hand in her own and slowly lowers into it a ruby amulet on a fine gold chain. The amulet's beauty is somewhat marred by burns and soot, and a large crack runs through the center of the ruby.

"The footman who brought news of our daughter brought us this, it was a gift from her father the day she turned fifteen. Please find... my daughter... and bring her safely home to me."

Tears begin to well up in the queens eyes and she hurries back to her throne. The King, quiet throughout the short exchange speaks up.

" I cannot express to you the depth of my gratitude, Silvus will assist you in aquiring any further items needed in your quest. Now if you will forgive my brief audience, my family and I have had a hard few days and must tend to ourselves. I thank you again with all of my heart."

King Lysander, Queen Annabella, and Prince Lionel rise and are escorted from the throne room by four of the Kingsguard. Silvus, the hunchback, and the halfing guard remain. The halfing stand at attention gently leaning on his long spear, the hunchback remains quietly behind the thrones. Silvus crosses quickly from his place behind the thrones to stand in front. His hair is thin and white and his skin blotchy and dry form old age. His robes hangs loosely off his frame, not giving much away of the from beneath but it would be safe to guess frail and papery. Silvus's voice is quiet almost a whisper but his words are clear.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance great heroes, If there is anything you need before your journey now is the time to ask."

The Steel Falcon half-turns towards Azriel, but speaks to Silvus.

"With respect, might we have a moment to confer? A proper plan ought to make use of our unique strengths, and the needed resources will depend on our plan."

"Very well, Grell will bring you to see me when you are ready."

Silvus and the Halfing both exit out the same door as the royal family. Grell, the hunchback ushers you over to another door to the right. He leads you down a short hallway and to and a small, comfortable meeting room. He holds the door as you enter then points to the three footed stool by the door and himself, implying he will wait for you. the door closes behind you and the four of you are alone in the meeting room.

As soon as the door closes, The Steel Falcon turns and stares at Zystra. He suddenly seems less calm and less kind than he did in the throne room.

"Azriel. Who is this girl? Your brother and yourself have a reputation, I am willing to work with you in the name of justice, and I trust your capabilities. Your word may be enough for the king, but I have seen too many great heroes undone by blind trust; I would not reveal my capabilities to one about whom I know so little. You say this child is a brave warrior, and she indeed looks dangerous, but how am I to trust her intentions? From where has one so powerful come so suddenly?"

Zystra seems slightly bemused by this inquiry, especially at the mention of "reputation."

Does a man who claims to be a bird of metal know less of the nature of birds or the nature of metals? Is a man concerned with reputation or with hiding his capacity? One might think he should choose and be first to speak or hold his tongue...

But set your mind at ease, ser ferrous falcon, I desire no harm for you nor any here.

Azriel takes the amulet in hand holding gently turning it over watching as the metal and gem catch the light of his Ioun stones studying it for a long moment in silence.

My good falcon, I can understand your trepidation at a collaboration with this young lady, and her tail is her tail to tell for I am no bard to do justice to her tail.
While her tail is shrouded in deep mystery she has proven true, at numerous chances where she could have done my brother and I Ill, we trust her, and by no means is that trust blind.

Azriel lounges down into one of the chairs and looks at the Steel Falcon.

If how ever you require more, i would be more then happy to case a binding Geas/Quest upon all of us, and bind us honestly to our task and each other... but must we resort to such tactics my good Falscon?

The Steel Falcon is quiet for a moment, considering each of Zystra and Azriel's words.

"Hmm. You're as sincere as can be hoped for." He turns to Zystra. "I do hope that during our journey you are willing to share some of your tale. I do not expect to hear your stories with none of mine in return."

He moves closer to Azriel and speaks quietly and quickly in elven, giving an overview of his skills, which break down more or less to martial ability, social skills, and infiltration tactics. When finished he switches back to common.

"I trust you know the capacities of your companions, Azriel, and I further trust that you are the one among us to formulate a plan. Do you require any further information?"

Eloron laughs heartily, at this back and forth,

"Brother you know how I feel about being bound by magic, I can say to you Night Hunter our friend is more than able to carry her share of the burden..."

Eloron stands behind his brother's chair, fiddling with the head of his small woodcutters axe.

"Brother, you know much, what sort of danger do we face here? What sort of Dragon is this, is he an equal of the great Cormorax whom we slew together?"

My apologies brother, I do know your feelings on the subject of enchantments and mind effecting magics. The beast Neleroth is a fearsome Fire Wyrm, who is responsible for the disappearance of several bands of dragon slayers, notably the infamous Dancing Dragoons.

Touching his brothers hand, both offering and seeking reassurance.

Yes brother the beast Neleroth is more powerful than the great Cormorax, as hard as it for even I to fathom such power. However we have two things we did not before.

Gesturing to Zystra and the Steel Falcon.

Fellow adventures of skill and means, and this

Azriel gently sets the amulet the queen gave him upon the table careful not to scratch the table or it.

Where others have failed, we shall prevail and this shall be out key to victory. With it I can divine the location of the Princess, and presumably with her shall be her captor, for he would be foolish to leave such a prize unguarded or in the hands of his lackeys. Neleroth's plans and goal with this kidnap are unknown even to me, but it is clear he wishes to use her in some sort of bargain, or to in some way destabilize this kingdom. To what end I do not yet know.

Azriel begins coughing covering his mouth in a robed sleeve and pulling a small flask of foul smelling tea from some hidden fold with in the purple robe. Taking a drink from the flask he clears his throat.

Ultimately it does not matter to us what Neleroth plans, only that we stop the beast. To that end, here is the plan. We go into the city and gather any supplies we might need, sweet cakes, food, water, what have you. Then before too much of the day is gone we ride out in grand style towards Elvenhome. Perhaps we spread word that we have been sent on a trade mission or some other official delegation, what is of import is that none of us utter a word about the princess. Once we are outside of sight of the city by an hour or two, we shall take cover and I shall teleport us south of the city. From there we make our way south with all haste following the path that the Princess took, it should not take us more than a day to find the location of the kidnap. I hope at that spot to find evidence of use in my divinations, regardless of what we find, from that very point we strike west. Aided and hastened by my magics we shall travel through Gondar to avoid political entanglements along the way I shall divine the Princess' location and whatever other information I may of her and her captor. Armed with this we shall seek an approach that is advantageous to our endeavors. From there we confront and slay Neleroth, rescuing the princess and availing ourselves of the loot this dragon has amassed. Hopefully he is better read than Cormorax.
Are there any questions on the plan?

Azriel relates the known history of Neleroth.

Neleroth is not a particularly old for dragon, about 400 years, middle aged. Up until around a two hundred years ago Neleroth was known for being a very lazy dragon, he would come out of hiding about once every year or so, slaughter a small village, and leave. However two hundred years ago Neleroth had an extreme and sudden change of temperament, he came forth from his lair and fell upon Rajashi, incinerating great swaths of the city, the mages of Rajashi were able to fend off the beast, but not before he kidnapped the Emperor's daughter. A band of legendary heroes were sent to defeat him and never returned. This pattern of kidnapping a noble daughter, and then disappearing along with the team sent for him repeated twice in the last two hundred years. The most recent attack was ten years ago when he took the lord of old towns daughter, and disappeared along with the Dancing Dragoons. Other than those three sightings Neleroth has been completely hidden for two hundred years, an unusual amount of time, even for a dragon.

Eloron gently picks up the amulet of the table his brother placed it on and brings it to his nose before taking a long deep sniff.

"this beast will have its weaknesses like all others surely we can find them... I will trust your judgment brother. What do you two have to say?"

"Hnnffff Hnff... We should set out to prepare as soon as possible"

"Azriel, is there anything we can get from town but not from Silvus? If not, we should take him up on his offer to supply us, and head out as soon as we can."

I am unsure how able Silvus is to furnish me with the tea I require, or the sweet rolls I desire, other then that I trust his word as to his ability to furnish us with wares. Is it agreed then? Shall we call for Grell. Brother? Zystra? Steel Falcon?

I travel light, require little, and am ignorant to the material requirements for combating dragons. I will trust you to handle the shopping.

Zystra, I shall provide much magical protection against the Wryms fire, but additional potions or wands of Endure Elements and Resist Energy crafted by a magic user of some degree of power, with emphasis on the latter, would be of aid in our endeavors.

Specifically looking for ones created by 7th or 11th level caster.

As you exit the room Grell rises to his feet, and beckons for you to follow. He leads you back through the throne room and into Silvus's study. The old man sits at a large wooden desk.

"Are you ready? what do you need before you can depart?"

I believe we are ready! As for provisions, several Potions of Resist Energy and Endure Elements for our party, would be of great aid. Besides that I require a specific tea, and sweet cakes.

The Steel Falcon nods. He seems vaguely anxious to be underway.

Silvus: "Very well, grell will meet you with the required items at the castle gate in an hour. If you must contact me during your quest use this. Good luck you four."

Silvus hands Azriel a fist sized crystal ball. And crosses across the room to open the door for you.

Skipping ahead to the gate unless someone needs to do something in between.

Grell meets the four of you right outside the castle gate. He hands a bulging sack over to Eloron. Inside are eight potions each of endure elements and resist energy, a wooden box of tea leaves, and a larger box of sweet cakes. Grell gives a quick bow before turning and limping back through the gate.

"Ahhh sweet cakes!!!"

Eloron grabs one and tosses it down in one gulp, smiling hugely he passes out the portions evenly

I take the tea and carefully slide it into my satchel bag.

Our four heroes stand at the gate of the castle. Before you lies the city of Lionguard. A heavy summer sun beats down on you from above. The town below is bustling with activity, children play in the streets, merchants pedal their wares, priests shout sermons from wooden platforms, there are bards on every street corner collecting coin in return for beautiful (at least they think so) music. From your vantage point you can just barely make out the huge bridge across the great river.

Where will our brave adventurers go next? West towards the Dragon Tail islands and their scaly foe? South towards the site of the kidnapping? Perhaps north like Azriel said, to throw any would be spies off their trail? Or possibly they'll ignore their noble quest all together and head east to see what the hell is going on over in Gothmor...

I believe you are all set with what you planned to do in the city. It's just up to you all to decide on a plan of action and execute it.

"Well then, we head north before doubling black to find the princess as my brother suggests, or do you two have another idea?"

Eloron throws the hood of his cloak up adjust his pouches and looks to his companions

Head north to travel west. Is there any other way?

We set off. I'm making that call for the group. Tally Ho.

As you exit Lionguard out the north gate the road splits. One heading north east towards the fishing villages along the maelstrom coast. The other heads straight north, between The Kingswood and the coast. After traveling along the northern road for two hours you finally find yourselves alone on the road. No farmers, carts, or travelers within sight.

Quick off gather road, form a circle holding hands, this will take but a moment.

Taking a sip of his tea, Azriel begins to recite the spell his eyes flaring with arcane purple. He holds our his hands grasping his brothers massive hand, and Zystra completing the circle. In a blink all four are teleported from the road side.

Azriel's aim is true and the four of you appear on a small grassy hill by the roadside. Before you lies a terrible swathe of destruction. The charred remains of a carriage lay on the side of the road. corpses are strewn about left and right, men as well as horses. the ground is heavily charred. Your eyes are drawn to a particular body, a large man garbed in a heavy, charred breastplate. His skin and hair have been burned off but he remains kneeling, slouched against his spear. He appears to be clutching something to his chest.

Elorons nose twitches back and forth as if hunting for something his eyes dart over the scene of carnage before him.

Eloron moves slowly over to the large burnt man:

"He never had a chance, none of them did, dragon fire consumes and burns all those in its way."

Zystra slowly makes her way towards armored corpse, intently examining the scene of the carnage.

Dark wings and a bright conflagration. Any beast did this holds real power. Like as not we'll be the ones running before the flames ere this is done

She kneels down and examines the corpse.

Azriel looks over the scene seemingly bemused by it, his eyes dart about the area searching for something.

Half muttering to himself, be here, something, somewhere, a scale, a droop of blood, something, somewhere, be here...

The Steel Falcon pauses for a moment, taking in the carnage, then moves quickly to the nearest corpse. He begins methodically searching the bodies and the surrounding area for anything of interest.

Zystra and Eloron stand over the kneeling spearman. Zystra kneels to examine the corpse, after briefly covering the obvious details (burned alive, a lion crest on his breastplate), she forces open his free hand to reveal a 5 inch long red scale, hot to the touch.

Meanwhile Azriel and The Steel Falcon survey the scene at large. The scene of the massacre seems to hold no hidden secrets, the bodies are charred, the ground scorched, and all of the equipment is in ruins.