Session 15, 12/19/2021. All players present
Dramatis Personae:
Lia Galanodel, Chaotic Good female wood elf cleric 4 of Corellon Larethian, from the Gnarley Forest (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow.
Preh, Chaotic Neutral human male rogue 4 of Greyhawk. (Jason). Age 18. Short red hair, green eyes. 5',5", about 135 lbs. Mithral shirt, dark clothing, rapier, quiver of darts.
Rune Ulfricsson, Chaotic Good male human Barbarian 1/Bard 3 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow.
Theodred, Neutral Good male gray elf wizard 4 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword, longbow.
Willem, Neutral Good male human commoner 4 of the Domain of Greyhawk (NPC). Shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, tanned skin. 6', 200 lbs. Studded leather, club, sling, heavy wooden shield. Currently at camp, watching over the horses.
Freeday, Reaping 28th, 594 CY
After slaying the young black dragons, Preh, Rune, Lia, and Theodred make their way back to the curving corridor with the magical symbols on the floor, formed by multicolored sand poured into tiny grooves.
“You say this is a magical circle used to bind demons, Theodred?” asks Preh, inspecting the floor.
“A thaumaturgic circle, yes,” replies Theodred. “And not just demons—it could be used for just about any kind of outsider.”
“Considering what Radeem’s nameless apprentice wrote,” says Rune, “my coin’s on demons.”
“And if both branches of this corridor join to form a circle, as we suspect,” adds Lia, “it’s probably on the other side of that wall before us.”
“And if we mess up the sand, it can break free?” asks Rune?
“Yes,” answers Theodred.
“Don’t you know some levitation magic?” asks Preh.
“I missed class that day,” replies the mage. “Can’t you bypass the circle with your trap-disabling toolkit?”
“I could,” the rogue retorts, “but magic circle nullifier runs more than a thousand orbs per jar. I’m not made of coin!”
“Let’s get on with it, then,” says Lia, stepping into the corridor.
The four travel along the southern arm of the corridor. After about sixty feet, they see that it meets up with the northern arm, joining at the base of a short staircase leading to an archway opening up into a chamber encircled by the hall. Seeing the soft glow of firelight coming from beyond the archway, the party cautiously approaches the stairs. Peering within, they see a circular chamber with a 15’ ceiling containing a canopied bed, an ornate marble bath, a gaming table with matching chairs, a mahogany wardrobe, and a stone hearth. Sitting quietly next to the fireplace, playing a card game, sits a beautiful, scantily-dressed feminine figure, with dark hair, coppery skin, and tiny horns on her forehead. Seeing the party, she slowly rises, batlike wings unfurling behind her.
“Finally,” she says, “after all these years, people to talk to!”
“Ummm, hello?” says Rune.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” the woman says, motioning. “Come in, come in!”
The party nervously files into the chamber, first Preh, then Rune, then Lia, with Theodred remaining close to the entrance.
“Now,” says the woman, “my name’s Thurra—the ‘H’ is silent, by the way—but I assume Radeem already told you that when he sent you here to free me. I’ll just need a few moments to pack my things, and we can be off.”
“Umm, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” says Rune. “Radeem didn’t send us.”
“What?” she says. “Well, I did think it a little odd he’d send elves, considering they were battering down our gates when last we spoke. Who are you, then? And where is Radeem?”
“I’m Rune,” says the barbarian, “and these are my companions, Preh, Lia, and Theodred,” he says, nodding to each of his comrades. “And, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he continues, “but this is the Common Year 594. Radeem likely died long ago.”
“Unlikely,” says Thurra. “He’s cheated the Reaper many times before.”
“Well, it has been over 200 years,” says Lia, sympathetically. “Could it be possible, even if he’s still alive, that’s he’s moved on?”
“Seriously?” Thurra scoffs. “Look at me,” she says, gesticulating erotically. “There’s not a paladin in the Flanaess who wouldn’t smite this.”
“Wings and horns, but no tail, at least,” whispers Theodred to Preh.
“Yeah, that’d just get in the way,” the rogue says under his breath.
“But she’s a succubus,” whispers Rune.
“No,” Thurra corrects the barbarian. “My mother was a succubus. Dad was fully human, or so I’m told."
“You never met him?” asks Lia.
“No,” Thurra grins, “but Mom assures me he died happy, with a big smile on his face. Anyway, if Radeem didn’t send you, then why are you here?”
“We thought these ruins were abandoned,” says Preh.
“Really?” the half-fiend arches an eybrow.
“Yes,” says Rune. “You see, it all started a few weeks ago, when we were hired to find a missing merchant.”
“It turns out that she’d been kidnapped by a one-eyed hunchback living in the marsh above,” adds Theodred.
“Marsh?” asks Thurra.
“Yes,” says Rune, “and when we rescued her, we found a journal that once belonged to an early apprentice of Radeem, which told of the siege of his fortress by elves, and that afterwards, they’d used magic to raise a marsh above the ruins.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” says Thurra.
“Well, over the years, water’s seeped into some of the lower rooms down here and caused a lot of structural damage,” says Theodred.
“The hunchback—Plygar was his name,” Rune continues, “had discovered the journal and built floodgates to drain the swamp so he could explore the ruins of Radeem’s stronghold.”
“He also wanted to flood the fields of the local villagers who picked on him as a child,” adds Lia.
“How sad,” says Thurra, “I hope he got his revenge.”
“Well, things didn’t work out so well for him, I’m afraid,” says Rune. “But we were able to use his device to drain the marsh slowly, and once it was done, we decided to explore the ruins ourselves.”
“A lot of the place was flooded or collapsed,” says Preh. “This chamber was pretty much our last stop.”
“Did you find Crishka?” Thurra asks.
“Crishka?” replies Rune.
“Radeem’s dragon,” the half-fiend replies.
“Dead,” says Theodred.
“Well, not by our hand,” adds Rune. “She was mostly bones.”
“Well, Radeem did say she was badly wounded in the battle. Poor thing.” Thurra sighs. “Well, at least I can get out, now. Thanks for the help, even if Radeem didn’t send you.”
“So, will you be returning to your home plane,” asks Rune.
“The Abyss?” Thurra asks, incredulously. “Hells, no. Mom banished me from there when I took up with Radeem. No, I’ll be seeing if I can’t track him down. I refuse to believe he’s dead, or that he’s found someone else.”
“Do you have any idea where he could be?” asks Lia.
“Not a clue,” Thurra replies. “But time doesn’t mean much when you’re immortal. Maybe I can start by asking around at that village your little hunchback was trying to flood?”
“Ummm, I’m not sure they’d be very cooperative when approached by someone bearing such obvious marks of the Abyss,” says Rune. “I mean, no matter how comely, otherwise.”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” Thurra smiles, her fangs catching the firelight. “I’ll make sure they cooperate.”
Rune, Lia, Preh, and Theodred all exchange glances, knowing that letting Thurra leave could very well endanger the people of Cherry Knoll, The Fork, and other nearby settlements.
“Anyway,” says Thurra, “I need to pack my things. Thanks again for everything you’ve done!”
“I regret to say that we can’t that happen, Thurra,” says Rune, reaching for his blade.
“Well, dretch-farts,” pouts the demoness. “I had a feeling it was going to end this way.”
Before anyone else can react, Thurra draws her dagger and stabs Rune in the chest, gravely wounding the barbarian. Preh moves forward and attacks the demoness with his rapier, but finds her excessively hard to hit.
“Sahandrian!” cries Lia, gesturing and bringing forth a longsword of glowing blue force floating in the air. “Eldreth velutha!” She gestures again, as the blade streaks toward Thurra and begins to attack her, but has trouble penetrating the half-fiend’s defenses. The elven priestess then moves closer to Rune, to support him with her blade and healing magics. The barbarian, for his part, harnesses his anger and attempts to strike Thurra with his greatsword, missing.
“People, hear my words,” says Theodred, harnessing the power of the Symbol of the False Prophet, “surrender!” Unfortunately, the amulet’s power has no impact on the half-fiend, and a large crack appears in the central stone, signaling that the item’s final charge has been expended.
“Scelestus corruptus!” intones Thurra, beating her wings, unleashing a cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness that wafts over the party, chilling them to the bone, though Preh seems to be the least impacted.
Though the party find Thurra to extremely hard to hit, eventually enough blows are landed to cause the half-fiend to withdraw, flying past Theodred and down the darkened hall. The enraged Rune, having suffered the most from her deadly dagger attacks, chases after her, notwithstanding the darkness. Lia’s spiritual weapon also follows, its faint glow providing just enough illumination to keep the barbarian from running into a wall. Lia and Theodred also give chase, before Preh finally joins in, his ioun torch providing barely enough light for his preceding companions to find their way.
The four chase Thurra to the end of the corridor, where she turns right, flying down the wide, water and mud-slickened staircase. Rune arrives at the staircase and loses his footing, painfully tumbling to the bottom. Lia and Theodred likewise follow, joining the barbarian in a wet tangle of muddy limbs. Preh, nimbler than his companions, manages to keep his balance all the way down.
“Don’t just lie there!” yells the rogue. “She’s getting away!”
The three fallen heroes look up in time to see Thurra flying across the flooded auditorium and vanishing into the darkness. The three gain their feet and join Preh at the edge of the collapsed balcony, but only the keen eyes of the elves are able to make out the far side of the darkened chamber.
“She’s crouched down behind one of the statues,” says Lia, pulling out her bow and nocking an arrow.
“It looks like she’s searching for something,” adds Theodred, drawing his own bow.
“This might help,” says Rune, pulling a vial of liquid from his explorer’s pouch and slathering it on Lia’s bow. “It’s bless weapon oil,” he explains. Should prove useful against fiends.”
Preh nocks a bolt into his hand crossbow and moves up next to the elves. “I can’t see her, but I’ll follow your lead,” he says. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“Not a bad idea,” says Rune, pulling out his shortbow. “That’s new,” he nods towards Preh’s hand crossbow.
“Got it back in Greyhawk,” replies the rogue. “Needed something better than darts, so I’ll be ready next time you swim with a giant catfish.”
“Hopefully that’ll never happen again,” replies the barbarian, nocking an arrow.
The four are able to get off one volley of missles, all of which miss, before the elves see Thurra unrolling a scroll across the chamber.
“Oisnimed ostium!” Thurra cries, vanishing into a frame of shimmering blue light.
“Damn,” says Theodred. “Looks like she had a dimension door scroll stashed over by the statues."
“What’s that?” asks Preh.
“A minor teleportation spell,” replies the mage. “It only allows you to teleport a few hundred feet, but if she got outside where she can fly, we’ll never catch her.”
“Well, let’s hope that we hurt her enough that she’ll reconsider attacking any nearby settlements,” says Lia.
“We can send word to keep an eye out for her,” says Rune. “After all, we’ll need to pick up a cart at one of the villages so we can haul the tapestries and coin out of here, anyway.”
“Good idea,” says Preh. “You think there’s anything else over by those statues?”
“Only one way to find out,” says Rune, doffing his sword, axe, and explorer’s satchel. “Cover me.”
Using a sunrod for illumination, Rune enters the water and swims past the bloated guard corpses while his companions stand ready with their ranged weapons. Climbing up to where the statues stand, Rune finds an open secret compartment behind the central sculpture, within which he finds a slender wand with a clear quartz tip, and two stoppered glass vials—one filled with a thick, black fluid, and the other containing a red liquid smelling of almonds. The barbarian returns to his companions and displays his finds.
“Invenire majika,” Theodred says, casting detect magic. The mage them examines the items carefully.
“Nice,” the elf says. “This wand has only a few charges remaining, but it allows the casting of invisibility. This vial of nasty black liquid appears to be a potion of spider climb,” and the other is a potion of cure light wounds.”
“You should hang onto the wand, Theo,” says Lia. “Preh is probably best equipped to utilize the potion of spider climb. Rune, you should take the healing potion, since you seem to get hit more than any of us.”
“We should return to Thurra’s chamber,” says Rune. “It’s possible she had something of value there.”
All in agreement, the four return to Thurra’s chamber, and begin searching. Four jade ornaments shaped like dolphins adorn each bedpost, which Theodred pries out with his dagger. On the game table, Lia finds thirty-four handsomely-carved wooden playing cards depicting numerals and human figures (royalty, knights, wizards, bishops, nobles) in a black velvet drawstring bag.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a Ryzaq deck,” says Lia. “It was a card game popular in Dyvers about 200 years ago.”
“You’re that old?” asks the rogue.
“Not quite, Preh,” she laughs, “but I know a lot of people old enough to remember its heyday.”
In the wardrobe, Preh finds several items of note: a small sablewood box containing a set of silver grooming tools, three richly embroidered silk robes, and two cork-stoppered glass bottles; one containing a green, chalky liquid, and the other containing a clear liquid smelling strongly of alcohol.
“Here, Theodred,” the rogue says, “I think I found some potions.
The mage casts detect magic and examines the potions. “The clear one looks to be a potion of remove curse, and the green one looks to be a potion of protection from acid.”
“That would’ve been useful when we were fighting the dragons,” remarks Rune.
“Agreed. Maybe our being acid resistant would have enticed them to surrender so we could’ve captured them alive and sold them to Lord Henway,” quips Theodred.
“Well, you take it, then,” retorts Rune. “So next time we run into another black dragon, you can do all the fighting!”
“Hey, anyone know what this thing is?” asks Preh, holding up a strange metal bar bent into the shape of a pentagon and covered in magical symbols.
“Well, it detects for strong conjuration magic,” says Theodred. “But otherwise, I have no idea. I’ll need to cast an identify spell when we return to Greyhawk. We have enough gold now to afford the expensive components the spell requires.”
“Okay,” says Rune, “it looks like we’ve found everything worthwhile here. Since I can run faster than the rest of you, I’ll head back to the Clover camp and gather William and we’ll make our way to the nearest village and purchase a cart. Gather what you can here, and we’ll meet you back at camp. In the morning we can come back and load up the cart with the rest.”
Everyone agrees, and Rune exits the fortress while the others load up their packs with the gold from the dragons’ hoard and the easily portable items. Lia, Preh, and Theodred then return the the Clover camp to await Rune and Willem. The pair return at dusk with a horse-drawn cart. The five have dinner and retire for the night.
Starday, Goodmonth 1, 594 CY
Rune, Preh, Lia, Theodred, and Willem spend much of the day clearing the path to the marsh so the horses and cart can make the journey. They spend the night camped on the edge of the marsh.
Sunday, Goodmonth 2, 594 CY
Rune, Preh, Lia, Theodred, and Willem spend the entire day emptying the loot from Radeem’s stronghold, including the four heavy tapestry maps and field-dressed dragon corpses. They make their way back to the Clover camp site and retire for the night.
Moonday, Goodmonth 3, 594 CY
Rune, Preh, Lia, Theodred, and Willem leave the Clover camp site that morning on horseback, with Willem driving the cart. They reach Greyhawk early that evening. Their first stop, at Preh’s insistence, is the Guild of Leatherworkers, where they sell the corpses of the juvenile black dragons Rath and Elgath for 500 orbs, plus a few future leather goods made from the hides (a belt for Rune, gloves for Preh, bracers for Theodred, and something undetermined for Lia). The party then make their way to Geld’s Maps, where Lazzarin Geld buys the four map tapestries for 200 orbs. The party then heads to the Blue Dragon Inn for dinner. After dinner, Lia returns to her quarters at the Star of Celene for the night. Theodred follows, but returns for more drinks with the boys once he’s stabled his horse at the Star. Rune, Preh, and Willem decide to have a few more drinks and rent rooms at the Blue Dragon, planning to stable their horses there until tomorrow, after which they’ll take them back to the False Duke’s Stables.
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Campaign continues at Bastard Greyhawk: Secrets of the Towers, part 1: https://paizo.com/threads/rzs60dkc?Bastard-Greyhawk-Secrets-of-the-Towers-p art-1
Continued from Bastard Greyhawk: Urban Decay
Dramatis personae:
Lia Galanodel, female wood elf cleric 3 of Corellon Larethian from the Gnarley Forest (Molly). Age 144 (about 24 in human years). Long red hair, green eyes, fair skin. 5', 110 lbs. Blue robes, breastplate, heavy darkwood shield, longsword, longbow.
Rune Ulfricsson, male human Barbarian 1/Bard 2 of the Frost Barbarians (Jacob). Age 27. Shoulder-length auburn hair, beard, green eyes, fair skin. 6'3", 215 lbs. Chain shirt, battleaxe, greatsword, shortbow.
Theodred, male gray elf wizard 3 of Celene (Mike). Age 130 (22 in human years). Long silver hair, blue eyes, pale skin. 5'8", 130 lbs. Foppish clothes, longsword.
It occurs to me that I didn't post character backgrounds for Lia, Rune, and Theodred. Will do so below, at the time they joined the party (details at start of thread):
Lia Galanodel, female wood elf cleric of Corellon Larethian
Background – Waterday, Goldfields (Reaping) 12th, 594 CY
Lia Galanodel was born on the twelfth day of Fruitfall (Harvester 12 to the humans), 449 CY in the Gnarley Forest, most of which lies within the Faerie Kingdom of Celene, arguably the most important elven realm in the Flanaess. Populated mainly by gray and sylvan elves, Celene has been ruled by Queen Yolande of Bellmeadow for well over two centuries (since 361 CY). One of the most pivotal events involving Celene in recent memory were the Hateful Wars (498-510 CY), an attempt by Celene and allied nations to clear the Lortmil Mountains of goblins, orcs, gnolls, and other savage humanoids. Precipitated by the death of Yolande’s consort at the hands of orcs, the wars were largely successful, though the fleeing orcs and goblinoids eventually overran the Pomarj peninsula to the south, and would later prove an arguably greater threat to the neighboring realms. Since the end of the Hateful Wars, Celene has grown ever more isolationist, to the point of refusing to send aid when the Principality of Ulek (a dwarf-ruled realm and ally during the Hateful Wars) was threatened by the Pomarj forces of the orc despot Turrosh Mak during the Greyhawk Wars in 584 CY. Though Celene’s position is to avoid risking elven lives in the conflicts of other races, a number of elven citizens have volunteered to do just that in the intervening decades.
In your hundredth year, you chose to dedicate yourself to the service of the Seldarine, particularly Corellon Larethian, god of warfare, magic, and lord and creator of the elven race. You soon found yourself in the hidden village of Oakvein, where the Loremasters of the village educated you in the priestly arts. A few decades later, when your training was complete, you became a wandering priestess, visiting several elven communities throughout the Welkwood and Gnarley, tending to the needs of the faithful and assisting when danger threatened. From 584 to 585 CY, you spent much of your time in the southern Welkwood providing clerical support to Celene’s border forces, as Turrosh Mak’s armies had just overrun many human settlements on the Wild Coast, and many feared he might invade Celene. Luckily, Mak set his sights on the Principality of Ulek instead, though the Welkwood forces did see a few minor skirmishes with orc scouting parties.
Roughly three months ago, you were sent by your superiors at Oakvein to the temple of Corellon in Greyhawk, to act as an assistant to the high priest there, a man named Narcoriel. Once there, you discovered that the “temple” mainly consisted of an outdoor shelter with a few benches under a small copse of trees near the Star of Celene, an elven inn located on Welkwood Boulevard in Greyhawk’s High Quarter. Turns out, the elven population of Greyhawk really isn’t large enough to support a large temple (only about 100 elves in a city of 70,000 souls), and rarely do more than a dozen elves show up for Godsday services. In inclement weather, services are moved inside the Star of Celene, run by a renowned half-elven bard named Finnobhar Aodhin (pronounced Finn-oh-var Ay-oh-thin). The Star (repurposed from an small mansion) is more of a tavern/restaurant than an inn, as there are no rooms for rent, but instead rooms are let gratis to important elven visitors to Greyhawk. Finnobhar allows Narcorial to keep a room in the Star, in return for spellcasting services. As his assistant, you have been granted a cot and a trunk in the cellar—not the most comfortable arrangement, but meals are gratis as well.
Narcoriel’s approach to his own duties is rather lackadaisical; he’d much rather wax philosophical over a bottle of Celene Ruby with friends at the Star, rather than obsess over the spiritual needs of the faithful. Given that, and the small size of the congregation, your duties are fairly light. Consequently, you found yourself quite bored within weeks of your arrival. Some of that boredom was alleviated when you met Theodred, a silver-haired, gray elf from Celene about your age, who had been a resident of the city for about a dozen years. Having come to Greyhawk to study at the city’s famed University of Magical Arts, Theodred is a frequent visitor to the Star when classes aren’t in session (though his attendance at Godsday services leaves much to be desired), and has turned out to be quite helpful in navigating this massive human metropolis.
Realizing that knowing the city better could also provide you with more opportunities to build the congregation, you found yourself spending time in Greyhawk’s markets and respectable establishments, inviting any elf or half elf you saw to Godsday services. You had little luck, until one day you approached a rather rustic-looking half-elf in Greyhawk’s Low Market. His name was Toben, a ranger from a druidic community a few days east of Greyhawk in the Cairn Hills, and you were rather surprised when he arrived for services the following Godsday. Afterward, you invited Toben to an after-service dinner at the Star. Theodred also showed up, having conveniently missed the service beforehand. Toben was a bit uncomfortable at first, because everyone speaks Elvish in the Star, and his was a bit rough—he’d grown up among humans, only learning the tongue later in life. Luckily, Finnobhar, being half-elven himself, put Toben at ease. You, Toben ,and Theodred spent many hours conversing, and were even treated to a performance by Finnobhar—the three of you were especially fond of one recital concerning the overthrow of a demon-bound wizard named Radeem hundreds of years ago, by a force of elven warriors and spellcasters from the Gnarley Forest. Toben even shared his own tales of adventure with you and Theodred—battling undead and evil priests in a blood-filled tomb in the hills to the north, as well as slaying a crazed wererat in the bowels of Greyhawk itself. The three of you parted as friends, and the young ranger even stated that he planned to return the following Godsday.
Of course, that turned out to be yesterday, and Toben didn’t show, though Theodred did (after the services were over, naturally). Concerned he may have been overwhelmed with the “elvishness” of it all, you decided to seek out the young ranger this morning and put him at ease. Having learned from your conversation that he usually frequented the Blue Dragon Inn in the Foreign Quarter, you decided to begin your search there. You knew the inn was on Cairn Court, off Horseshoe Road. You’d met the owner, a bearded half-elf named Gustin Longpike, in the High Market a few weeks before. You’d invited him to Godsday services, and he’d invited you to his inn, promising you a flagon of the house ale, Witch Queen’s Cauldron. Since he’d never shown up, of course, you never felt rushed to try something named after the mother of Iuz’s brew pot.
After signing the roster as you passed through the Garden gate, you encountered Theodred on the Processional, on his way to the High Market. The mage decided to join you, cautioning you that while Horseshoe Road was generally safe during the day, it did divide the Foreign Quarter from the rougher River Quarter, so it was best not to tempt fate.
When you arrived at the Blue Dragon, you didn’t see Toben, but Longpike was behind the bar. Looking surprised to see you, he motioned you over. The bartender knew who Toben was but confirmed he had not seen the ranger for a few days, though he did mention that the ranger’s friend, Preh, might know. Longpike then handed you two mugs and a pitcher filled with pitch-black ale, and motioned toward a table in the corner occupied by two humans–one a red-haired, freckled young man in dark clothing, and the other a tall auburn-haired man with a greatsword leaning against the wall, within arm’s reach. Toben had mentioned that a man named “Preh” was one of his companions, so the two of you felt more confident approaching the men. Toben must have told Preh about you as well, because the younger, smaller man seemed to know exactly who you were. After inviting you to sit, introductions were made. You learned the other man was a new arrival to Greyhawk named Rune, from the barbarian lands of the far northeast. Preh then told you that Toben had temporarily left town, having business to attend to for a few days.
As the four of you continued to converse over the ale (which you found a bit harsh for your liking), you were approached by a young boy with a leather satchel, wearing the livery of Greyhawk’s Union of Couriers and Messengers (a blue sash emblazoned with the image of a hawk in flight). The lad bore a sealed note, which he gave to Preh (after Preh passed him a copper common, of course). Preh took a moment to read the note, looked first at Rune, and then at you and Theodred. “So,” he said, “anyone have plans this afternoon?”
Rune Ulfricsson, male human bard/barbarian
Background–Waterday, Reaping 12th, 594 CY
You were born Readying 2, 570 CY in the fishing village of Trondheim, roughly equidistant from Krakenheim and Djekul, in the Lands of the Fruztii (Frost Barbarians). As the second-born son of Ulfric Arosson, the local Jarl, you were chosen to be your clan's historian and advisor on the arcane. You spent many years traveling among the Fruztii, learning their ways, and also much time speaking with merchants, travelers, and other visitors to Rhizia (the Thillonrian Peninsula).
Your older brother, Hakon, coveted your father's rule, and while you were away, arranged to have your father killed. Hakon did well to cover his tracks–none outside his circle knew of his duplicity–but your friend Kjeld saw it happen and informed you. You and Kjeld confronted Hakon and his men, who made no effort to hide what they did. You challenged your brother, but were refused with a laugh, for you lacked standing in your tribe to do so. It is well known that Frost Barbarians may only challenge for leadership by blood or by deed. The line of succession was clear, as your brother was the elder. At that moment, the coward that murdered the Jarl, Ivar, fired an arrow from the shadows, killing Kjeld. As your friend died in your arms,Hakon declared you responsible and banished you from your home on pain of death for you, your mother, and siblings. This was three months ago.
You now seek to explore the world, gain knowledge, and complete a heroic deed–one for the Skalds to tell tales of for generations to come. This is the only way you may return and challenge your brother. Most recently, you sought to speak with one of your former mentors, the famed explorer Falagar, who left Rhizia for Greyhawk some ten years ago, and now teaches epic poetry and oration at the famed Bardschool, located in Clerkburg, Greyhawk’s academic quarter. you were hoping to gain admission to the school and perhaps further your craft. Much to your chagrin, you quickly learned upon arrival that the term had ended, and the new one would not begin for another month. Furthermore, you were told that Falagar was on something called “sabbatical,” which meant that he would not be teaching at the school next term, but was off gods-know-where doing some research! On top of all that, you learned that the Bardschool was rather costly, the first year running 50 gold orbs, far more than you had left in your purse!
Dejected, You realized you needed to raise more funds–not just for tuition (should you go through with his plan to enroll at the Bardschool), but simply for room and board. Following rumors, you soon found your way to The Pit, an establishment in Greyhawk’s Foreign Quarter featuring various forms of martial combat–essentially a smaller, rougher, less formal version of the famed Free City Arena dwarfing Clerkburg. Thinking you could earn some coin by competing yourself, you faced yet another obstacle when one of the pit bosses informed you only members of the Guild of Gladiators, Wrestlers, and Professional Combatants were allowed to compete, and the price of membership was a hefty ten gold orbs, far more than you had on hand. The boss suggested that “Mister Furzear” might be willing to spot you the funds, and pointed toward a sleazy-looking old halfling with slicked-backed hair sitting in a booth overlooking the Pit’s central fighting ring. Deciding to chance it, you began making your way up several sets of stairs to the halfling’s box. Nearly halfway there, You found himself intercepted by one of the ugliest women you’d ever seen–short and muscular, with a crooked nose, broken teeth, and two messy red braids. Dwarfed by the massive greatsword on her back, she looked like she might even be part dwarf! She warned you that once someone becomes indebted to “the Weasel” (Furzear), they never get out. She introduced herself as Fredricka the Fierce, bought you a drink, and took you to a nearby table where she introduced you to her friends: a suave, well-dressed young human named Nico, and a quiet, red-haired teen named Preh (pronounced “prey”). Over a few drinks, your new companions helped you choose a few fights to bet on, winning the you some modest coin–not enough to draw the Weasel’s attention, but enough for a few nights at a decent inn. Your newfound friends then led you to the Blue Dragon Inn on Cairn Court in the Foreign Quarter, run by a bearded half-elf from Perrenland named Gustin Longpike. The four of you swapped war stories over dinner and several pints of Witch Queen’s Cauldron, the heady house brew named for the mother of Iuz himself. Your new friends spoke of foiling a robbery of the locksmith shop across the square, chasing down a half-orc thug, recovering a magical book from a blood-filled tomb in hills to the north, and battling wererats in Greyhawk’s sewers. By the time You made it to your room, you were quite drunk, but optimistic about your future prospects in this bustling, alien metropolis.
Late the very next morning (today), you awoke to Preh knocking on your door. The young man told you to hurry up and get dressed as the taproom would only be serving breakfast a little while longer. As the two of you were finishing your meal, a pair of elves walked in–one a red-haired female and the other a tall (for an elf) silver-haired male. They went to the bar, and shortly thereafter came to your table, carrying a pitcher of Witch Queen’s Cauldron. It turned out they had a mutual friend in common with Preh, a half-elven ranger named Toben, who was currently out of town on business. As the four of you conversed over the ale, you were approached by a young boy with a leather satchel, wearing the livery of Greyhawk’s Union of Couriers and Messengers (a blue sash emblazoned with the image of a hawk in flight). The lad bore a sealed note, which he gave to Preh (after Preh passed him a copper common, of course). Preh took a moment to read the note, looked first at you, and then at the elves. “So,” he said, “anyone have plans this afternoon?”
Theodred, male grey elf wizard
Background – Waterday, Goldfields (Reaping) 12th, 594 CY
Theodred was born on the twentieth day of the month of Blossoms (Planting 20th in the human tongue), 464 CY, in Enstad, capital of the Faerie Kingdom of Celene, arguably the most important elven realm in the Flanaess. Populated mainly by gray and sylvan elves, Celene has been ruled by Queen Yolande of Bellmeadow for well over two centuries (since 361 CY). One of the most pivotal events involving Celene in recent memory were the Hateful Wars (498-510 CY), an attempt by Celene and allied nations to clear the Lortmil Mountains of goblins, orcs, gnolls, and other savage humanoids. Precipitated by the death of Yolande’s consort at the hands of orcs, the wars were largely successful, though the fleeing orcs and goblinoids eventually overran the Pomarj peninsula to the south, and would later prove an arguably greater threat to the neighboring realms. Since the end of the the Hateful Wars, Celene has grown ever more isolationist, to the point of refusing to send aid when the Principality of Ulek (a dwarf-ruled realm and ally during the Hateful Wars) was threatened by the Pomarj forces of the orc despot Turrosh Mak during the Greyhawk Wars in 584 CY. Though Celene’s position isto avoid risking elven lives in the conflicts of other races, a number of elven citizens have volunteered to do just that over the intervening decades.
At an early age, you discovered you had a talent for magic. Though you pursued other interests, by the time you reached adulthood you knew that wizardry was your calling. Though you learned some minor cantrips and theory at Enstad, eventually you grew curious about other arcane methods, and left your home about twelve years ago to attend Greyhawk’s University of Magical Arts, the most prestigious magic school in the Flanaess. When your time as an initiate was through, you decided to remain in the city, taking quarters at a student boarding house in Clerkburg, and spending time between classes earning gold to further your education.
In your free time, you enjoy spending time at the Star of Celene, an elven inn located on Welkwood Boulevard in Greyhawk’s High Quarter. Owned by a renowned half-elven bard named Finnobhar Aodhin (pronounced Finn-oh-var Ay-oh-thin), the Star is the closest thing to home for many of Greyhawk’s elves, catering to an almost-exclusively elven clientele (the only non-elves being half elves), where the Queen’s Elvish is the only language spoken, and any human who shows his face is met with cold indifference. On Godsdays, services to the Seldarine are held in a small copse of trees near the Star (or indoors during inclement weather) by a priest of Corellon Larethian named Narcoriel, who keeps a room at the inn. Though you’ve never been the most religious of individuals, sometimes you attend these services, though what you mainly look forward to is the after service activities that take place at the Star.
About three months ago, Narcoriel received an assistant, a young redheaded wood elf priestess of Corellon named Lia Galanodel. A native of the Gnarley Forest, Lia had been sent to Greyhawk by the Loremasters of Oakvein. However, given the size of Greyhawk’s elven population (about 100 elves in a city of 70,000 souls), Lia’s ministerial duties were exceptionally light. The two of you often ended up conversing at the Star, and out of her boredom and your desire to acquire funds for more magic tutelage, the two of you recently made a pact to inform one another and join forces if patrons in need of your specialized skillsets made themselves known.
Two Godsdays ago, you showed up to the Star after services to find Lia sitting with a half-elven ranger named Toben, whom she’d invited for services earlier that day. Though you found his Elvish atrocious, you found him to be a likeable fellow, and realized any shortcomings he had were mainly due to his human upbringing. The three of you talked deep into the evening, and were even treated to a performance by Finnobhar—the three of you were especially fond of one recital concerning the overthrow of a demon-bound wizard named Radeem hundreds of years ago, by a force of elven warriors and spellcasters from the Gnarley Forest. Toben even shared his own tales of adventure with you and Lia—battling undead and evil priests in a blood-filled tomb in the hills to the north, as well as slaying a crazed wererat in the bowels of Greyhawk itself. The three of you parted as friends, and the young ranger even stated that he planned to return the following Godsday.
Of course, when you visited the Star yesterday evening, Toben wasn’t there, and she was disappointed that he had missed the religious service earlier in the day (as had you, but that’s nothing new to Lia). After dinner and a bottle of Celene Ruby, you returned to your boarding house, thinking little more of it.
The next morning, you were on your way to the High market when you ran into Lia on the Processional, with a determined look on her face. She feared than perhaps all that elven culture made Toben feel inadequate and scared him off, so she wanted to find him and put his mind at ease. The ranger mentioned that he frequented the Blue Dragon Inn, so Lia was going to start there. You offered to come along, as the Blue Dragon was just off Horseshoe Road, which divides the Foreign Quarter from the rougher River Quarter–though you knew it to be generally safe during the day, your thought it best not to take chances.
When the two of you entered the Blue Dragon, you were immediately spotted by a bearded half elf behind the bar, who motioned you over. Lia explained that he was the owner, Gustin Longpike, and that they’d met a few weeks before in the High Market. Not seeing Toben in the taproom, Lia asked Longpike, who explained that he knew the ranger, but hadn’t seen him for awhile. He suggested Toben’s friend, Preh, might know his whereabouts. The half-elf then handed Lia two mugs and a pitcher filled with pitch-black ale, and motioned toward a table in the corner occupied by two humans–one a red-haired, freckled young man in dark clothing, and the other a tall auburn-haired man with a greatsword leaning against the wall, within arm’s reach. Toben had mentioned that a man named “Preh” was one of his companions, so the two of you felt more confident approaching the men. Toben must have told Preh about you as well, because the younger, smaller man seemed to know exactly who you were. After inviting you to sit, introductions were made. You learned the other man was a new arrival to Greyhawk named Rune, from the barbarian lands of the far northeast. Preh then told you that Toben had temporarily left town, having business to attend to for a few days.
As the four of you continued to converse over the ale (a bitter house concoction called Witch Queen’s Cauldron), you were approached by a young boy with a leather satchel, wearing the livery of Greyhawk’s Union of Couriers and Messengers (a blue sash emblazoned with the image of a hawk in flight). The lad bore a sealed note, which he gave to Preh (after Preh passed him a copper common, of course). Preh took a moment to read the note, looked first at Rune, and then at you and Lia. “So,” he said, “anyone have plans this afternoon?”
Campaign continues at Bastard Greyhawk: Secrets of the Towers, part 1