drothgery's Victorian Eberron game - IC




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  1. #1
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    drothgery's Victorian Eberron game - IC

    drothgery's Victorian Eberron

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    Quote Originally Posted by Father Mikel ir'Indari, Knight of the Flame, Knight Commander of the Inquisition
    There were, perhaps, many ways to have stopped what happened in the centuries after the fall of Galifar. Perhaps with more direct aid, the Kalashtar of Adar could have prevented the Quori from building the devices across all of Riedra which allowed them to manifest themselves in Eberron. Perhaps if the Druids of the Reaches had maintained faith with the Gatekeepers instead of turning to other traditions, they would have had the strength to close the doorways that the Inspired had opened. Perhaps if the wizards of Arcanix had been more convinced of their own power, and less desperate, they would not have attempted to free what was bound in Khyber in hopes that two great evils would destroy each other. Perhaps if the peoples of the Five Nations had been more vigilant, the cults of the Dragon Below would have been destroyed, and there would have been nothing for them to find and use to succeed to some degree. Perhaps if the wounds between Aundair and Thrane had ever been fully healed, Aundair would have heeded the warnings the oracles of Church of the Silver Flame had sent.

    But it had happened, and as great evils fought each other and the great heroes that tried to stop them -- the Kalashtar died to the last, as did the last of the Gatekeepers. The armies of the Five Nations. By the time the Keeper of the Flame sacrificed himself to bind the last, all of the old peoples save for humankind were reduced to tiny, isolated communities or destroyed entirely.

    And though that was well over a thousand years ago as of this writing, only humanity has truly risen from the ashes. But the great magics that were unleashed in that desperate struggle are almost entirely lost. Bards songs no longer command power, the spellbooks of the wizards of the Arcane Congress are lost, and there has not been one born with powers of sorcery or any true or aberrant Dragonmark in over a millenia. Some who channel primal forces of good and evil still command as much power as they did in days long past, and the archivists claim with the proper focus any magic is still possible. But the days of magewrights by the scores working in the great cities is long past.

    Fortunately, the minds that once would have turned their thoughts to arcane power have persued other endeavours in our time. We have no airships or bound elementals in our time, but we do have rails of iron and steam along the routes the lightning rail once ran, and steamships are reclaiming the seas. Telegraph lines may not be as fast as speaking stones are supposed to have been, but they are no less a wonder. And while mankind's enemies need not fear fireballs, they must take our canon and and muskets into account.

    One would think, in an age of such wonders, none would seek out those great evils that remained bound through the cataclysmic end of the last age. But there have always been those who seek shortcuts to power, and those who seek to cheat death. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to stop them.
    Last edited by drothgery; Friday, 18th May, 2007 at 05:44 PM.
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  • #2
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    The Church had not ruled Thrane since the fall of the Empire of the Flame, over five hundred years ago, but one did not refuse an invitation from the Knight Commander of the Inquisition. Still, Father Mikel had a reputation as an honest, fair-minded man, and although he could be cryptic, he generally did not waste people's time.

    For Adele, Grant, and Horace, this was far from the first time they had spoken with Father Mikel; indeed, some of you had known him when he was merely a churchman from a noble family with a long and distinguished history of service to the Church of the Silver Flame. For Quaen and Soldardis, though, this was only your second meeting with the man, and the first had left you with more questions than answers.

    Father Mikel was a tall, slender man with dark brown hair showing the first hints of gray. He sat behind a large, wooden desk that, like everything in the office, spoke of understated quality.

    "I believe introductions are in order." He said, "Since you will all be working together."
    Dave Rothgery

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    Quote Originally Posted by drothgery
    "I believe introductions are in order." He said, "Since you will all be working together."
    Adele coughs nervously. "Working together?" She looks up at Mikel, who nods slowly. The old priest had been telling her for months that hunting alone was beginning to be a strain on her sanity. She'd been ignoring him, but now it looked like Mikel had taken matters into his own hands.

    That sneaky old... Adele sighs. Still, I suppose the old man knows what he's doing. And there's been plenty of times when I could have used the backup. Adele grimaces, holding a hand to her forehead. Beneath her headband, her old scars throbbed, a grim reminder of just how much she'd been relying on luck.

    "Working together. Yes. Yes, of course," she says. "My name is Adele Fulir--" She pauses. "Just Adele, actually. I am...well, I am a mercenary, I suppose. I have never given it much thought, since I rarely have occasion to discuss my profession with others, but I suppose there is a word for ex-soldiers that accept private work, and that word is 'mercenary'."

    Adele's pale hands tremble slightly as she speaks, but her voice, bitter and defiant, does not waver or betray any signs of nervousness. Still, though her voice is strong, the rest of her portrays a different impression. She is pale and small, dressed in unflattering clothing that does little to draw attention to her. Her only concession to modern style is a brilliant red silk headband, a stark contrast against her milk-pale skin.

    "I suppose I am more likely to think of myself as a hunter, though you may believe it a narrow distinction. Unlike a mercenary, who will take the highest bidder's side in any fight, I accept only specific comissions, as Father Mikel can attest. And like a hunter, I am very...knowledgeable about the prey that I have commited to seek out."

    Adele shrugs. "So call me both, then, or neither, as you prefer. It does not, in the end, matter all that much."
    Last edited by nonamazing; Friday, 18th May, 2007 at 02:12 AM. Reason: changed color from Cyan to Magenta

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    Horace Greer, a tall lean man with close cropped brown hair and worried eyes that don't seem to stop moving around the room. He wears tanned leathers, with a long rifle slung across his back and a hand axe stuck through his belt.

    "Hm. Oh, it's my turn, is it?" Horace looks embarrassed at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and continues, "I'm Horace Greer, pleased to meetcha. I'll be guiding y'all to wherever it is y'all are going. I'm a guide, and a good un, so if'n you listen to me, you may not die in the woods."

    Having said this, he lets out a long breath and leans back against the wall, seeming to want to sink into it.
    Last edited by Einan; Friday, 18th May, 2007 at 05:26 PM.
    Originally Posted by Piratecat:
    See, that's the thing. A half-vampire gelatinous cube ninja of legend is patently absurd. An unkillable blob of midnight slime that haunts the crevices of an ancient inn, that leaves slime-covered and blood-drained carcasses behind it as it slinks back into the shadows, is just plain scary.

    If you're trying for style without player metagaming, change physical appearance and never label anything. As the Shaman and other folks illustrated, everything can be more frightening when you don't know what the heck you're facing.

  • #5
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    In contrast to simple woodsman, sitting in another lounge chair appears to be a refined city dweller, apparently Khovaire by the slight point of ears. He wears an acceptable smoking jacket and matching lounge suit, all accented slightly in blue-green. A keen eye will notice that his vest buttons are decorated with lightning bolts. A leather satchel, common amongst House Jorasco doctors, sits by his feet.

    Removing a cigar from his breast coat, the man almost lights it until a look from their host stops him. Still holding it, but unlit, the man speaks in a strong baritone. "Doctor Soldaris Lyrandar, though most of my men just call me 'Doc.' A pleasure to met you all, I am sure. It is... unusual for one in my circle to be called upon by such an esteemed personage"---a nod at Father Mikel---"and I am curious to see how I may be of service." With that, Doc puts the cigar in his mouth and begins absently chewing it, his keen sky-blue eyes on the rest.
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    Grant

    After the others have spoken, it was Grants turn. He wondered to himself the motivations of the others and while they had been specifically picked for this task. Adele said he was a hunter. To him, it looked like Horace fitted that description better. Doc was a another matter, for a doctor, he sure seemed to like to smoke. Grant detested the things, they fouled the air, and made his lungs feel like he had been feeding the engines of one of the many trains in the city. "Grant is my name, I'm here to provide information to the rest of you. If there is something that needs to be found out, I can find it." He wears the clothes of a noble. A light blue silk shirt covers loose fitting silver silk pants. His shoes are made of exotic leather, the species you can't tell, and match his pants. His blonde hair is currently loose and flutters in the slight breeze coming through the window. You attention is drawn to his blue eyes. They seem to hold your gaze for quite some time, but not enough to stare. A rapier rests on his right hip, a pistol on his left. Several rings dot his fingers and a choker encircles his neck. They all match the light blue of his shirt.

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    "Hm. Oh, it's my turn, is it?" Horace looks embarrassed at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and continues, "I'm Horace Greer, pleased to meetcha. I'll be guiding y'all to wherever it is y'all are going. I'm a guide, and a good un, so if'n you listen to me, you may not die in the woods."
    During Horace's brief speech, Adele finds her eyes drawn to the well-made rifle slung across the scout's back. "That...that is an excellent weapon, Mister Greer. May I take a closer look at it?"

    "Doctor Soldaris Lyrandar, though most of my men just call me 'Doc.' A pleasure to met you all, I am sure. It is... unusual for one in my circle to be called upon by such an esteemed personage"---a nod at Father Mikel---"and I am curious to see how I may be of service."
    "Soldaris? I believe I have heard that name before. Where did I...oh, yes! Father Mikel, you leant me one of his books, didn't you?" Mikel nods, and Adele seems a bit more animated when she turns back to Doc. "I owe you thanks sir. Some of your theories proved invaluable when I was tracking an air demon in southern Thrane. I can say with honestly that if it were not for your book, sir, I would probably not be here today."

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    "Her name's Ellora," Horace says and hands the rifle to Adele, his hands holding onto the rifle a little too long, "She's special. Saved my life a few times now. Me 'n her, we go way back."
    Originally Posted by Piratecat:
    See, that's the thing. A half-vampire gelatinous cube ninja of legend is patently absurd. An unkillable blob of midnight slime that haunts the crevices of an ancient inn, that leaves slime-covered and blood-drained carcasses behind it as it slinks back into the shadows, is just plain scary.

    If you're trying for style without player metagaming, change physical appearance and never label anything. As the Shaman and other folks illustrated, everything can be more frightening when you don't know what the heck you're facing.

  • #9
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    Quote Originally Posted by nonamazing
    "I owe you thanks sir. Some of your theories proved invaluable when I was tracking an air demon in southern Thrane. I can say with honestly that if it were not for your book, sir, I would probably not be here today."
    Doc raises his eyebrow, and takes the cigar out of his mouth as he speaks. "Really? Few appreciate Arcane Philosophy, with the Universities so focusing on the Natural sort. But you do me too much honor---I daresay that piece was no more than a folio." A distant look appears in his eyes. "'Twas quite the adventure performing research for that one. Took some doing to convince my Uncle to allow us to take that steamboat up the Cyre River---still has an odd flow, even a millennia after that dread Day. The first problem were the badland bandits, but that does not even begin to..."

    Soldaris pauses as he catches something in their host's eyes. He coughed, and added, "Well, its mostly there in the piece. Enough of that. I'll let our last visitor introduce herself. My apologies, lady."
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    Grant

    Grant listens to his new companions, also waiting for the last introduction. He listens intently to their conversation. Academics interested him little, but their was always useful information that those know-it-all's spouted off. They both seemed enthused about their particular subjects of interest. It was good to be working with those that held some enthusiasm, much like the enthusiasm of a certain lady that Grant saw last night.

    "Your Uncle? Wouldn't happen to be Rithben would it? I am friends with his daughter, Liza, I enjoyed her company for dinner last night. I swear she talked about her cousin quite a bit. She seemed to look up to him a little, always going on research missions. That might have been you I suppose. She has a wild heart you know, it is only a matter of time before she lets loose."

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