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It was an impossible city, one spoken in whispers by greybeards in scriptoria and remote towers across the planes. It was a city reached not by land, sea or even air; but by magic alone. It sat at the very center of the multiverse, if such a geographical construct even had any true meaning. Few who heard of its wonders ever gazed upon its rain-soaked streets.
Despite these conundrums, the city was huge. The city collected peoples and cultures from everywhere, gathering them like a beach collects flotsam. It was a city of the defeated and the dispossesed, where even the most hunted and harrowed could find sanctuary. It housed neighborhoods that contained the last remnants of ancient cultures and peoples from places long destroyed or lost in the fastness of time.
It was also a city of power. An emperor of an entire world would count as naught when set against the majesty of the city's merchant princes. Secrets uncounted resided in the libraries maintained by its inhabitants. Wonders of metal and stone poured forth from its many workshops. A river of arms and armor issued from the gigantic brooding foundries that belched soot and fire into the darkened skies of the city every moment of every day. Those who dreamed of fame and fortune often set their sights on its fog-filled boulevards.
The city was called Sigil. Some knew it as The Cage, some The Nexus, still others The Ring. It was ruled by The Lady of Pain, whose very shadow would cut those it touched to ribbons. Some said Sigil was the Lady, and She It. Most did not talk of the Lady long, for to attract her attention was a sure way to get penned in the dead book.
There are ten million stories told along the crooked alleyways of this impossible city. This is but one of them The story of The Mad Badger and The Crimson Masque.
Game Session One: 4.21.12 Medieval Starship Games and Hobbies, Pembroke MA
The game opened in the Swordhold District, Lower Ward, Sigil. The two mercenaries, The Mad Badger and the Crimson Masque met with their boss Tug Stonecutter and a prospective client, Mr Malgrim. Malgrim, a rather frog-like fellow, claimed to be speaking for a group of necromancers who were natives of Acheron, specifically a cube on the first plane called Melreneth. They had recently come under attack by the forces of the Necromancer-king Boretti. Boretti desired the secrets the necromancers had, and was bent on conquering their cube.
Mr Malgrim wanted the two to infiltrate King Boretti's army and destroy his chief commanding officer, one Count Orlov. Orlov is a vampire. Upon his distruction, the two were to bring back any papers they could find to Malgrim's necromantic masters
After a agreeing to a 10,000 GP payment and a bonus 10,000 should they manage to capture Orlov, the two were given directions to a gate in the Great Foundry complex. They ported to Melreneth, and met with the mercenary goblins fighting Boretti's army.
After a rocky introduction (the Mad Badger being an Orc) the two were led to the edge of the goblin trenches by Sgt Mogwurm, a goblin tracker. They infiltrated the trenches and confronted the clockwork zombies Boretti used as soldiers.
After a pitched battle where the two heros dispatched a platoon of clockwork zombies and their captain, a ghoul named Prykos, the Crimson Masque deciphered a map locating Orlov's command bunker. Using fly potions, the two traveled in stealth to the location.
Rappelling into the trench before the bunker, the Crimson Masque made to open up the double metal doors. When he touched the door a loud voice began to scream 'INTRUDER!' over and over. The nearby zombies rushed in, and one managed to coldcock the Crimson Masque. The Mad Badger dragged him up their rope and hid as the bunker inhabitants sent out zombies to capture them. They retreated to try again on the morrow.
Wind-driven waves slap along huge tarred barnacle-encrusted mahogany pilings as the small shorecraft approaches the wharf.
The grizzled bosun yells to his two rowing mates. They ship their oars and scramble out onto the sun-bleached dock. Securing the small craft with a rope, the two assist their passengers onto dry land.
"Welcome to the City of Opal folks, Gem of the South," The grizzled bosun says.
Here we will begin when our characters are set ;)
The city rests uneasily in the humid tropical night. The heavy air seems to hum with expectation. The singing of the myriad jungle insects blends with the shouts and laughter coming from the brothels harborside in the Driftwood District. The night fog blurs everything into a grey shadow of itself. It is a night for adventure.
OK. We are starting our discussions here. Any building issues, ideas or just to post an absence, this is the place to put them.
Couple of rules for this PbP:
1. Consistent posting: I have a hectic life, but I will attempt to do at least a small daily update. If I will be offline for more than a day or two I usually will post the absence here. If y'all could do the same, I would appreciate it.
2. The fun's the thing: I am here to tell y'all an exciting story. I will attempt to make it fun for everyone. Everyone should try to make it interesting for everyone else.
3. Rule 0 is king: The DM is the Final Authority. Nuff said. However, as a beneficent deity I do listen to my petitioners and even agree to change my edicts if they make a good enough case. I am well aware of my limitations re: the rules, one of the reasons I am PbPing is to learn them better. Lets give the Beta rules a good test drive.
Once long ago the Dwarves of Tharkad made their dwelling in the mountain of the same name. They were master craftsmen, tunneling deep within the mountain to retrieve the rich veins of metal and gemstones Tharkad hid within its depths. They traded with the human kingdoms of the West and the tribes of demi-humans who roamed the Great Forest to the East, growing wealthy in the process. In time they created the subterranean city of Tharkad-Kûl, a deep metropolis of the dwarven race.
Eight hundred years ago, something happened that remains a mystery to this day. A black cloud enveloped the entire mountain for two weeks. Any who entered never came out again. At the end the cloud vanished, leaving only silence. The entire dwarven city had been killed, leaving only silent halls and empty rooms. The dwarves had been transformed by some fell force into swarms of undead horrors. Over the years many entered its dread tunnels, and some survived to tell of its horrors. Most tell of undead, goblins, orcs and many other fell things that live in the dark. They also talk of the cunning of the ancient dwarves and the many traps that they left for invaders.
A century ago the High Halls were occupied by Varrakezion, a huge dragon of fearsome reputation. This great wyrm sleeps on a pile of dwarven gold wrested from the many humanoids and undead it has slaughtered. The Low Halls remain the purview of the lesser creatures.
No one to this day can say what killed Tharkad-Kûl, but those who brave its darkened silent halls say you can still feel the weight of the dark evil that came and snuffed the city out like a man would snuff a candle. This dire force lures dark things into the silent halls from far and wide. Great is the undying evil that festers within the waiting darkness.
Hey folks. This will be our discussion thread for the new Beta test drive Expedition to Tharkad-Kûl . We can start statting up characters here, and all that fun stuff. First a little backstory (yes I know I can't help it):
Your recharge place is called Stoneroot. It is a decent-sized town where adventurers can get their goods when needed. I roughed up a little bit of stuff so you get a feel for it. It is roughly two days on foot from your dungeon. You can take horses and cut the time down to less than a day, but you can't take the horses inside, so someone would have to stay with them.
Features of Stoneroot:
Town population: 6,000 (includes surrounding countryside)
Walled town with small attached keep.
Max GP: 50,000
Town locations:
Horm’s: Tavern run by Horm, a taciturn dwarf who claims descent from the Dwarven Kings of old.
Order of the Raven: A chapterhouse of rangers who guide people over the Western Pass and watch for humanoid raiders.
Temple of Vesta: Local temple to good deity Vesta. Also has the Order of Vesta (Hearthknights) attached to the main temple. A Good church militant house, these paladins and clerics aid the needy, provide healing and lodging to travelers and protect the surrounding area.
The Magic Box: A magic item store run by Ranarios, a semi-retired wizard and several apprentices. Most magical supplies can be found here.
Gorm’s Smithy: Run by Gorm, an all-purpose dwarven smith. Can do up to masterwork items.
Pilgrim’s Hostel: Boarding house run by the Temple of Vesta. Cheap lodgings, simple fare, no likker.
Castle Stoneroot: Stone keep attached to side of Stoneroot proper. Overseen by Lord Giles Pevensy, 6th Baron Stoneroot.
The Caravanserai: Local shop that caters to adventurers and caravans traversing the Western Pass. All basic supplies can be had here.
Reven’s Used Bits: Local pawn shop/ Junk store. Used by many adventurers to sell excess loot from the area to avoid baronial taxes. Often has stuff not strictly legal. Can fence treasure for a 10% fee.
The Counting House: Within Castle Stoneroot’s bailey, this is the official mint/counting house for Stoneroot. Can exchange currencies, mint legal tender Garonian coins, issue letters of credit good throughout Kingdom of Garona and can liquidate gems and jewelry for cash. Legally, all treasure discovered in the area is taxed at a 25% rate by the baron. Any taxable items are brought here for assessment and exchange into standard coinage. Many folks try to trade in their valuables elsewhere.
The Gatehouse: Barracks for baronial guards at the one gate in and out of the town. All entrants are inspected and taxes are levied according to items being brought in. Poll tax(per capita): 5 cp, Horse tax: 1sp, wagon: 1sp/axle (no charge for draft animals), domestic animals: 1cp/per, humanoids: 1 gp, dangerous animals: charged on a per case basis . Any artifacts or loot being brought in without documentation will be taxed at 25% (see above). Town gates are closed at sunset.
the fierce heat of an Appalachee summer has descended on the trading town of Noratom. Heat shimmers along the dusty streets and stone buildings.
Despite the heat, the streets of Noratom are thronged. Beings of all descriptions hop, pad and scurry along one another, snarling and croaking as they try to obtain food and drink. The Hoosk River is lined with shabby refugee tents, hollow-eyed children of every shape and color playing delusitorily along the river's bank while their parents argue with each other.
The Noratom Grange is mobbed, residents and refugees alike trying desperately to talk to Piet Breeansson, current Town Boss of Noratom. A phalanx of scowling soldiers dressed in Noratom millita uniforms keeps them at bay.
Rumors swirl about the advance of the Wreckers. They're near, they're falling back, they were waiting till autumn to clear the Appalachee passes, a million others discussed among the shabby crowds.
Time is running out for the small town, and descisions have to be made.
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