DM Fatespinner's page

You had been hearing the strange chanting upstairs for some time, but paid no particular attention to it. Tonight was football night, after all, and after 3 Budweisers you didn't particularly care what your weird upstairs neighbors were up to as long as it didn't interfere with the game.

In the 4th quarter, your team's quarterback throws a long bomb deep into the backfield and it looks to be a surefire winning touchdown if the defending safety can't intercept. The ball soars through the air and you lean forward in anticipation.... just as the power in your apartment building cuts out abruptly. In that instant, the murmuring upstairs goes silent and you hear what sounds like a woman's scream abruptly cut off... and the sound of something heavy slumping to the floor above.

The building remains eerily quiet afterwards. You are alone in the darkness. What do you do?

As the longest day of the year approaches, the nation of Cormyr prepares itself for the upcoming Midsummer celebrations. The last year had been a tremendous drain on both the coffers and the spirits of this stalwart nation, but one could hardly tell by the numerous decorations that had been set up all throughout the capital city of Suzail. Caravans bearing fruits and spices from places as far away as Calimshan and even Chult made their ways into the city daily, bards positioned themselves at every major intersection to spread the spirit and cheer of the holiday season, and the city’s temples had turned out a significant portion of their clergy to bring the message of hope and prosperity to even the poorest of neighborhoods. Foremost among these temples was the Temple of Lathander, situated at the very center of Suzail’s temple district. The temple itself was of grand design, opulent and marvelous to all who witnessed it. Stained glass windows covered each side of the building, each one depicting a scene of Lathander’s light in a different way but each one as awe-inspiring and magnificent as the next. The roof of the temple had been covered with gilded tiles to catch the light of dawn and even possessed a pair of enormous skylights situated directly above the pulpit at the head of the main prayer hall intended to amplify the radiance of noon within the home of the Morninglord. The clergy of Lathander had been tasked with helping to prepare for the tournaments and athletic competitions that were to take place during the Midsummer celebration, but such labor was reserved only for the lowest ranking of the priesthood. Those with more investment in the church had a much more important task at hand, and one of a much darker consequence than anyone would ever want surrounding such a joyous event…

The orcs had come from the King’s Forest to the northwest. That much was known. What was not known, however, was where they had amassed their numbers and, more importantly still, where they had acquired the strange dark magics that they had used to destroy the outlying villages of Pembrook and Dalamere. Only two weeks before, the two villages had been quiet farming communities on the southern border of the King’s Forest and now they were little more than smoking ruins, picked dry by the raiding orcs and the vultures that arrived in the aftermath. It was not until the caravan that visited the villages on a weekly basis noticed the smoke on the horizon that the villages were even known to be lost. Immediately, the Purple Dragon Knights had responded by sending a pair of armed men to investigate along with one of the War Wizards’ apprentices. Their group had discovered a small band of orcs with strange markings covering their bodies and had met them in battle only a few miles south of where the villages had once stood. The small band put up extraordinary resistance, killing the knights and badly wounding the apprentice before he was able to flee.

Upon hearing the apprentice’s account of the battle, Grand Marshall Luthien Galbraith of the Purple Dragon Knights immediately made arrangements to form a group of adventurers well-suited to meet the task. First and foremost, he called to the local wizard’s guild and requested someone more capable than a simple apprentice to aid in this investigation. The guild responded by providing a young but capable illusionist by the name of Anain Cuthnor.

Next, the Grand Marshall told his scouts to venture into the King’s Forest and find someone who knew much of the trees and paths, someone capable and learned in the ways of nature. To this end, they brought forth a young woman called Aynsley Morrigan, a self-styled pathfinder who knew well the lay of the land.

A scout was not enough, however. If the true source of this evil was to be found within the woods, then the party would need someone who had battled the evils that laired there for ages. They first turned to the elven communities nearby but could find no one able-bodied enough to meet the challenge. Finally, in the depths of the woods, the Marshall’s scouts discovered a small group of drow. Initially believing that these drow may somehow be involved in the wickedness that had plagued their nation, the scouts quickly came to understand that these drow were guardians of the wood and meant them no harm. From their numbers was sent forth a young half-breed cleric of their moon goddess. Her name was Riann Kirahel.

Finally, the group assembled, Grand Marshall Galbraith turned to his own order for leadership. Any one of his knights would serve well at the head of this group, but given the nature and depth of the evil that his nation now faced, Galbraith chose one most pure in heart and soul, a young Purple Dragon Knight errant who sought to earn his station amongst the true knights. To exemplify this standard, Galbraith chose a Paladin of Lathander by the name of Thelen Mallory.

Offering the group a lifetime a gratitude and no small amount of money for their efforts as well as the glory of serving the mighty nation of Cormyr in a time of need, Galbraith brought the group of adventurers before him only a tenday before the Midsummer celebration was to begin in earnest. Our story begins in a stone room within the Purple Dragons’ keep in Suzail that Grand Marshall Galbraith calls home. The walls are adorned with the standard of Cormyr, prominently displaying the crest of the Purple Dragon on all sides. The group stands before a mighty oaken desk of exquisite craftsmanship where Galbraith sits rigidly, dressed in his officer’s uniform and bearing a look of consternation and urgence. The floor is unremarkable save for a thick purple rug which the adventurers find themselves standing upon and the room’s chairs are arranged in a circle along the walls. Windows on either side of the room admit ample light during the daylight hours, casting the shadow of the iron bars used within them across Galbraith’s features.

“You all know why I’ve brought you here,” the Grand Marshall begins as soon as the last of the group has entered. “We are faced with a dire threat, a wickedness born of orc blood and foul sorcery. The apprentice that survived the encounter with these orcs reported that they employed some sort of magic that he was unable to interfere with nor identify. The devastation present where Pembrook and Dalamere once stood attests to the strength of these orcs. However, our scouts and diviners insist that the group responsible for this destruction cannot possibly number greater than a dozen. We feel that your group should be capable of dealing with this threat before it reaches the outskirts of Suzail itself and preys upon the villages that we depend on for sustainence. If any of you have questions, now is the time to ask.”

He rests his hands on his desk, looking at each one of the adventurers before him expectantly.

This will be the discussion thread for my upcoming Cormyr game in the Forgotten Realms.

The wonderous trade city of Calimport rests at the far southern end of Faerun’s famous Sword Coast. Bordered by the Calim Desert to the North and East and opening to the Great Sea to the West and South, this ancient city has long served as a trade center for many merchants plying the waterways. The city is also host to many architectural wonders from the great gilded domes of the capital buildings to the multi-level apartments and manors all along the city’s streets. A city not foreign to opulence and refinement, Calimport also has its fair share of corruption and wickedness concealed beneath the façade of grandeur. In addition to legalized slavery and the open-market trading of poisons, drugs, and other vices, the infamous Shadow Thieves make their lairs in this land, hosting numerous guild halls in towns as far North as Baldur’s Gate and as far East as Halruaa. Known for their wickedness and skill, the true leadership of this guild has always remained secret even from its own members. In support of (and perhaps because of) the Shadow Thieves are several temples of Mask, the Lord of Thieves and servant of Bane. The locations of these temples remain hidden somewhere in the bowels of Calimport’s underworld, known only to those of the faith and a select few in the higher echelons of the local thieves.

Lately, however, the Shadow Thieves have drawn their support away from the temples and many of the clerics of Mask have been exposed by their former allies to be taken into custody, killed, or worse. What few thieves who dare to operate in this desert land outside of the Shadow Thieves’ purview have found themselves often being visited by wayward clergy in search of aid. Even the Lady of Loss, the dark goddess Shar, has suffered a diminution of loyal thieves. Many of them have disappeared completely, never to be seen again. It seems as though the usual activity in the city’s underground has turned inward. Temples of deities dark and malign have suffered noticeable declines in attendance. Many of their members have vanished without a trace but several others have simply decided to turn away. Those who turn their backs on these gods have been the targets of their wrath, but with the withdraw of the Shadow Thieves’ support, many churches have had to resort to drastic measures in order to carry out their vengeance.

Business, on the other hand, is booming. The trade caravans have been coming in from the North with alarming frequency and exotic goods from the Southern ports of Chult have brought an abundance of fine tobaccos, fruits, and other delicacies which are sold and shipped to ports beyond with great efficiency. The city’s normal compliment of merchants and peddlers has almost doubled in the last two years and the local officials credit the decline of the Shadow Thieves’ activity for this fortunate burst of commerce. As a security measure, security near the wharfs has increased dramatically and the inner city has also seen a rise in the frequency of guard patrols, often including talented sorcerers who join the patrols to provide greater aid to the city’s cause.

It is late spring, the height of the trade season, when our story begins. Though monsoons have blanketed the usually dry land with torrential rainfall for the last two days, the frequency of traders, privateers, and mercenaries passing through the port of Calimshan has not dwindled in the slightest. Within the Efreeti’s Djinn, an inn known in many lands for its fine food, ample companionship, and amusing name, we find several men of unwholesome reputation whom destiny has chosen to perform great deeds, the outcome of which only time will tell…

Hey folks! This will be the discussion thread for my upcoming evil campaign in Forgotten Realms. I've only seen one character sheet so far, but things will take off as soon as I see the others and we work out some preliminary backstory type stuff for everyone.

If anyone is looking for inspirational materials to get you into the Calimshan mindset, take a look at photos of Morocco and listen to things like 'Marrakesh Night Market' by Lorenna McKennit.