DM Mittean's page

The barmaid smiles, with just a shadow of disappointment flitting across her eyes that Bexellock does not notice. "Oh good, you must be who he's meeting."

The barmaid nods. "Anyone joining you tonight?"

The barmaid turns, nodding. "We have a hard-crust sourdough or some cardamom bread."

The barmaid's lips tighten just a hair at Asher's distraction, but she smiles again as she turns to get his ale.

The barmaid, a young human girl, leads Asher to a nice round table sat on a plush red rug with intricate designs. A few crumbs dirty the surface of the table which is warmed by a clay stove a few feet away with something that smells delicious cooking in it. A copy of a newspaper hangs on the wall next to him.

“The War is over!”

The headline fills the space under the header - the Sharn Inquisitive. The headline flashes, replaced by another: “Cataclysm strikes the country of Cyre, annihilating it. All of Eberron mourns its destruction.”

Underneath the exclaimer is a picture of a small band of soldiers sitting on a hilltop, looking out over a valley at sunset. A battle had been fought in the valley, and smoke drifts up from a wrecked elemental airship through the headline's text as it switches back to the original headline. The soldiers look exhausted, stunned...shell-shocked. More join them as the scene continues.

The barmaid returns with a rag and wipes the crumbs off the table, her brown eyes smiling politely. "What can I get you?" Despite not being older than perhaps thirty, she had a few grays sneaking into her dark ponytail.

Book I: The Forges of Dora'Sharn
Chapter I: Death in the City of Towers
-The Bloody Bridge-

We begin our journey in a world of draconic prophecies, a land of harnessed magic, and a society ravaged by a century-long war. Magically driven mega-corporations vie for power against nation-states and cults worshipping ancient evils, while the people of this world are caught in between, pushed by the whims of the powerful and the elite. A cold war has settled in, with spies and inquisitives, politicians and scholar-adventurers, barons of industry and war-torn veterans all trying to survive and perhaps make a mark on the history of Eberron.

It’s been over a hundred years since the beginning of the Last War, and four years since the Day of Mourning ended it. On that day the country of Cyre was wiped off the face of the continent of Khorvaire. In its place lies a dead, unnatural horror - the gray haunted hellscape now known as the Mournland. No one knows what caused the Mourning…or whether it could happen again.

In the aftermath of the Day of Mourning, a cold truce hangs over the people of Eberron. New countries such as Q’barra and Darguun vie for recognition and power, while much older countries like Aundair and Thrane scheme to maintain dominance. Religions fight to garner influence among the peoples of Khorvaire, while the Dragonmarked Houses seek loopholes around regulation, finding more ways to turn a profit and retain market dominance. New races like the warforged seek to answer the same questions of older races - who are we, and what happens to us when we die?

Sharn - the most populous city in all of Khorvaire, and arguably all of Eberron. Called the City of Towers, the City of Knives, the City of Lost Souls, the City of a Thousand Eyes, and the Gateway to Xen'drik. The city towers atop a cliff above the mouth of the Dagger River in southern Breland, its heights stretching over a mile into the sky.

It’s early fall, the 17th of Sypheros, 998 YK, the midnight that begins the holiday of Wildnight. Less of a holiday and more of a superstition, The Fury, a member of the Dark Six and the Sovereign of Rage and Ruin, is said to reach the height of her power on the second day of the holiday. Indeed, on this night people find it difficult to control their emotions and impulses. While some superstitious and introverted folk stay inside on this night, many use it as an excuse for partying, revelry, and even riots. Whether this is due to a genuine supernatural effect over the three nights, or if it is simply a self-fulfilling prophecy, likely lies in the eye of the beholder.

This far south it doesn’t get quite as cold as it does in the north, as Sharn lies on the southern coast of Khorvaire. Curtains of water plummet from the sky pummeling those who traverse the labyrinthine walkways of the City of Towers. The stone and wood paths wind around and between the towers and spires over three-fourths of a mile above the ground, forming a complex latticework that can be confusing on evenings such as this. The rain falls hard, running off higher walkways and balconies in drenching waves, making it difficult to see more than a few feet. The intermittent glow of Everbright lanterns, spaced out and barely visible in the soaking gloom, does little to light the paths on this cool, wet evening.

This story will have Ceilidh, Asher, & Demon.

Here are the House Rules I'll be using:

The augmented map of Khorvaire.
I'll be using Counters (my own creation) and Active Defense.
25-point buy
Action points (Advantage)and Destiny points (Auto success).
You can purchase Flaws for 5,000 xp, extra Feats for 5,000 xp, Drawbacks for 2,500 xp, and Traits for 2,500 xp.
Vigor (Constitution score plus max class HD at 1st), Vigor (1/minute after combat transfers to HP), and Wound points.
Changes to spell-casting.
Changes to magic items.

Half the orcs have gone, and I have Omast, Kurst, and Roderik to do still, and I still haven't heard from Tuk or Three. I didn't want to bot over half the party, especially considering I do have a lot of NPCs I'm running.

I am trying a new initiative idea for PBP. I roll everyone's initiative, and if an NPC or enemy gets highest, I move one of them...then I open it up to the party. Anyone can go at any time, and I intersperse NPCs and enemies after someone posts, or after a certain amount of time. So, essentially, you guys can kind of always go whenever, lol.

You do not. It is just latched on the outside.

"Thuurvi, I can't bloody see again!" Valeros yells as he carefully moves through the mist. An orc screams out in pain before being cut off in a gurgle.

The orc that ran up to Tuk looks down at him, sneering, his eyes narrowing. "Hanner gwallt coch? Tuk?"

Several orcs enter the hold through the back of the kitchen, looking down on the pillar and Jacynta, Ezren, and Engineer #3 Mk. II from the other side of the balcony where Tuk is. "Lladd nhw! Dewch o hyd i'r ferch!"

Two of them leap off the balcony into the hold below, neither successfully landing on their feet, both of their falchions clattering away on the ground. One splats flat on his ass next to Jacynta. He wears ceremonial armor, clearly gilded for some long-lost ceremony. The other, covered in spiked plate everywhere except his torso, with a large bull-horn helm on, curses in pain as a spike on one shin goes through his forearm.

Ezren rubs a bit of his leather belt, pulling his left arm across his chest. "Կախարդական զրահ."

The mist is in pink. I should have bloody described the orc moving through the mist. Sorry.

A squat orc who was pacing back and forth raises its falchion and steps through the door. It immediately clambers over the crates to the left of the door that are about waist height, moving around one of the taller stacks to engage Omast.

Other orcs can be heard in the stairwell, and the armorless orc wielding the hand ax and dagger enters, clambering over the same stack of crates to the left of the door, jumping down intending to move past Thuurvi as Thalmor moves deeper into the hold.

EVERYONE gains Bless.

Thalmor takes 4 points of lethal damage. Current hp 29/33. Thalmor may attack as well this round.

A large muscular orc, standing taller than almost everyone else, strides forward from the room with the stairs. He wears a breastplate and an ill-fitting helmet that does not seem to induce being able to see out from under it. Giggling weakly, he lifts his wooden shield and his short spear, smiling at Thalmor.

"Rydych chi'n sefyll ochr yn ochr â llygredd. Gyda'r Jhorgun'taal hwn." His spear stabs out at Thalmor.

The orc looks at Thuurvi, his eyes narrowing. "Syniad da. Lladdwch nhw. Dewch â'r ferch ataf."

Valeros draws his swords and moves up to Roderik. "Once more?"

Roderik smiles, drawing his long sword and short sword as well. "Once more, my friend." They touch their swords together, and turn to face the orcs.

Everyone may go

Ahhhh, got it. I looked at the recruitment page. No wonder.

Valeros turns and hustles through the kitchen towards the rear where Tuk stands. "Ezren, Three, lets get down into the hold, we're stronger with the others." Ezren nods, joining him with the other two as they move downstairs.

They descend the stairs into the rear of the hold. As Ezren moves past Jacynta, the allosaur launches itself against its container. "Ah!" he gasps, jumping back, swearing. "What in Aurala's name?" A deep, pulsing chitter escaped from the crate as the dinosaur trilled anxiously, then barked twice.

More yells can be heard as another swarm of orcs come down the stairs. Suddenly a voice calls out, and the orcs stop. They vary in size and build, some carrying falchions, others wearing leather or chainmail.

"The Jhorgun'taal says...she...” a surprisingly smooth voice speaks from out of sight up the stairs, "...is...from the nation." The voice speaks slowly, pausing often.

"Jhorgun'taal, you are...gwrach. Corrupt. You and your..." he pauses again, and you can hear the contempt in his throat as he growls out the word, "...friends." A shadowy figure descends the stairs slowly, his features shrouded. The ship lists to the side, and everyone has to lean a little as the deck tilts. An explosion can be heard up on deck. "You people are why Eberron is...dying. Your wars," he gestures and the orcs push Thalmor and Thuurvi into the hold, "your warforged creations. Your..." he steps into the light finally, "...magic."

A tall thin orc wearing no armor, save some vambraces made out of animal skulls and a bandolier attached to a leather pauldron over his right shoulder, steps into the light. A wicked bit of iron is forged around his head.

He looks into the hold, past Thuurvi and Thalmor, to where Roderik, Omast, Kurst, Jacynta, Ezren, Tuk and Valeros are.

"Ashbound! Find the tattooed woman! Kill the rest of these corrupters!"

Everyone please roll initiative.

Three slams the orc in the chest. It gasps with effort as it tries to fend off the warforged's assault, rasping in a high, wide voice, "Rwy'n falch ein bod ni'n cael chwarae, wedi ein cynhesu."

He grabs ahold of Three's wrist, a fervent, mad look in his eyes. "Gawn ni weld sut mae gwaed ein gilydd yn blasu. A oedd yn cynhesu pob toriad eu hunain, dim ond i weld y lliwiau bywiog?"

"Taste your own blood, orc!" Valeros yells, swinging his longsword at the orc. He is unable to get his sword around the corner at this awkward angle and misses.

Keep in mind, Thuurvi, that puts Thalmor in your difficult terrain. Three is on the level above you, in the doorway to the eating area.

For clarification, the noises of clanging weapons and such are what everyone in the hold are hearing...those noises are not coming from the hold.

An obese orc wearing ill-fitting studded leather armor with white paint slashed across his eyes and standing six inches shorter than Thuurvi rushes down the stairs and into the room brandishing a falchion. Thuurvi attempts to slam him in the nethers with the pommel of her dagger as he passes, but misses.

"Edrychwch ar yr ast fach danllyd, hogia." His voice is slow, but intoned with pitch, considering the frenetic pace of the battle.

Two more orcs quickly follow him down the stairs, one taller than Thuurvi, wearing a dented breastplate that was once painted blue and carrying a light wooden shield, immediately jumps at Thalmor, thrusting with his short spear. Thalmor knocks the spear out of the way and binds up the orcs weapon arm, grappling him.

The second orc, this one not wearing any armor and wielding a hand ax in one hand and a dagger in the other, laughs in a gravelly voice as he cuts under Thuurvi's attempts at defense. "Gadewch i ni droi'r hanner brid hwn yn lludw."

A fourth orc wearing dirty leather armor with a hawkish face and a mohawk rushes and attacks Engineer #3 with a javelin, but Three hit's it hard in the chest, and the leather armor rips along one side, hanging uselessly off the orc's shoulders.

Down in the hold, cries and yells can be heard amidst the obvious clanging of weapons. The allosaur in the crate bellows in extreme fear and bangs against the door of its crate, attempting to escape.

The party is up!

Sorted out that fiorst tab. Thanks, Tuk. :)

It's telling me I can't because it is a linked form. Linked to what? Who the eff knows. I hate being pretty good with technology yet still feeling clueless sometimes.

I am not sure what created that first tab, “form responses”. I’ll have to poke around at how to remove that.

The map isn’t showing up for you? The link is still at the top of our page, it’s still fully up for me. Anyone else unable to access it?

That is correct, Thuurvi.

Also...Thuurvi and Thalmor, you are both in the room that the door in the ceiling just burst apart as a giant metal arm punched through it. Neither of you seemed to respond to that...just wanted to make sure you understood.

With a boom, something hits the door above Thalmor with an extreme amount of force.

"It's a good day to die!" Valeros crows, pointing his longsword around the room at Ezren, Three, and Tuk and Thalmor, each just outside of the room.

"We do not die today, my friend." Ezren replies with a mix of confidence and doubt.

The door leading up to the deck bursts apart as a long metal arm, woven with strips of heavy dark wood, punches through the barrier.

"Giant!" Valeros yells.

Last post before I roll initiative, everyone. Again, I will average everyone's, so it will likely be the party acts, then the NPCs. I may intersperse NPCs in between your posts, as part of my replies. If you want to roll your Reactions, put them under a spoiler. There are 36 currently, so random between 1 and 36 should do.

The difference is in their height. The dark blue squares are around head height or higher, 6-8 ft. tall. The light blue is around waist height, 2-4 ft.

So Jacynta is next to a large crate of some sort.

Just waiting on Thuurvi and Jacynta.

Everyone, make sure to place your character where you intend them to be on the battle map.

This is for anyone who's has gone through the back door of the kitchen, into the top level of the storage.

You enter a large cavernous room through a door on a balcony overlooking the storage area below it. Stacks of crates can be seen interspersed throughout the room, with ever-burning lanterns hung intermittently throughout. The balcony runs the width of the ship before jettisoning in a staircase that descends to the level below.
The light blue squares are waste height, the dark blue squares are head height. The pillar is the tallest object at over ten feet tall.

The music for this scene is here. It is Akkadian empire, by Audiomachine.

Roderik, Kurst, and Omast move quickly along the balcony before descending the stairs into the hold, where Kurst works on fastening Roderik's armor and Omast works on Kurst's.

In the center of the open area stands the pillar that many of you visited earlier, covered by a tarp. It is over ten feet tall and fastened down by straps.

"This will have to do," Roderik says to the group as the rest of you enter.

The ship suddenly lurches with turbulence before returning to normal, causing everyone to catch their balance. Shouts can be heard in the distance.

Guttural voices can be heard on the deck above, yelling.

"Quickly," Roderik barks, heading through the door in the back of the kitchen, "this way."

Still finishing up donning their armor, Kurst and Omast follow him through the door. Kurst struggles with several clasps as he snaps back at Thuurvi. "How in all of Galifar would I know that?"

Valeros draws his swords, nodding at Ezren. "We'll bring up the rear."

What does everyone do?

No worries, I realized I had stated that. The storage area is just behind the kitchen, so not too much difference. I'll get the map reflecting that up tomorrow.

Alright, everyone...please tell me what you would have had on you, and what you would not have had on you; i.e. what does Thuurvi need to be grabbing.
Thuurvi, please roll an Intelligence check.

That's totally fine, I think I was just expecting you to ask questions or sommit about the equipment. Okay, you're all back in the kitchen area now.

That is correct, Jacynta. I've marked the map up. The door at the back of the kitchen currently highlighted in yellow leads to the storage area.

Thuurvi, you're gathering up the gear. Did anyone else accompany her?

As everyone talks, the ship is rocked as a heavy object hits it. Cries of alarm are heard, followed by a loud voice bellowing something.

”Well...” Kurst blinks at Thuurvi, looking around hopelessly. ”None of that.”

"A fire giant?" Roderik asks as everyone hurries down a set of stairs into the rear storage compartment that contains the pillar. "Are you sure?"

"Kythri's cooking in the kitchen," Kurst cursed. "What in Galifar would a giant want with this ship?"

"Any number of things, my friend." Ezren exhales solemly.

As the last of you dart inside the door to the lower levels of the ship, a bellow from the descending airship causes you to look skyward. You see a large person jump from the deck above, dropping dozens or even hundreds of feet, to land on your deck. You get just a glimpse before slamming the door behind you, closing the group below-decks.