D&D 5E [IC] Creamsteak's Princes of Elemental Evil

Deep in the recesses of the earth a mass of writhing flesh was born from stone, salt, and fire. The festering mass grew and fed upon the life in the depths below. When the drow found it, they at first thought it a mindless enemy. Something to be feared and hated, but eventually controlled. They tamed the beast within the darkness, or so they thought. It learned their language. It spoke to them. Where once they had thought the creature was a foe to be fought, soon some came to see it as something to be praised... even worshiped.

The primal creature was called the Akasha by one such cult, and they learned from the beast. They swelled their numbers and turned against their own gods and people. For a brief moment, it seemed the creature might breach the surface, but something struck deep into the monster's heart and cut the tethers from its elemental power sources. The drow died out here, and for a great deal of time the power and the monster lay dormant.

Many generations later, dwarves came to this land and conquered these ancient dungeons. They tamed the wilds and built a kingdom here. And for a time there was peace. But that too could not last. The dwarves were greedy and selfish, and soon would be hounded by trolls and giants in great number. A long, slow, grinding war against the monsters of the surface and the darkspawn below lead to a terrible miserable existence that would slowly rot from within. It is said that their last generation was interred in the mountain, their great king interred in their final tomb.

Upon these fallen dwarven fortresses heroes came and with gilded chests they purchased great castles and citadels upon the lands to watch over the villages and kingdoms that were just now arising in the valley. They brought great wealth, and peeled the outer-most layer of the underdark, only to run their fortunes into ruin and have nothing left when all was done.

The Dessarin Valley is a well-traveled trade route settled between the great cities. Business booms and many profit. Still, others work to steal away what is not theirs by right. Banditry is common. Sell swords are hired in great number to protect the interests of the wealthy. Few can tell the difference between the bandits and the mercenaries. They both line their pockets with the money of wealthy merchants. There existed a great need to distinguish between the quality of labor, and so an agreement was struck to rank and police the various adventurers in the land. A guild was formed, and from that guild a merchant or town constable could quickly surmise the talent, skill, and most of all reliability of a given sellsword or battle-mage.

For many the guild is simply a means to an end. The guild provides easy access to work, supplies, and respite should it be needed. For a few others, it is a path to fame and fortune... should they be talented enough to earn the coveted ranks of gold or even platinum. You, however, are somewhere in between. The ranks of the silver are regarded well by most, but very few of their number have more than local notoriety.

Our adventure begins on the first day of summer season in the tavern-hall of the guild in Red Larch. A shortage of gold-ranked adventurers has resulted in a quest of gilded rank being offered to any who would brave it. The priority: URGENT. The pay: One thousand gold pieces. The mission: To find the whereabouts of the missing caravan of nobles traveling from Mirabar to Waterdeep and to return to the guild with a treasure called the "mote of elemental earth."

Damien sat at the far end of the bar next to the wall, sipping from his skin of red wine. In the inside pocket of his cloak, he could feel Nicodemus squirming in sleep. With his back to the bar, he took in the rest of the room. The tavern area of the Red Larch Tavern-Hall of the Adventurer's Guild was only modestly full today. The man had heard rumors that most of the Gold-tier members were away on assignments. As a Silver-tier member, he was respected, but only so much. At least I'm not still a Copper, dreadful life that...

Craning his neck around, Damien caught sight of Barnaby, the bar back. In his smooth, charismatic tone, the warlock said, "I say, Barnaby?" The young boy jumped at the request. He always seemed a little uneasy around Damien.

"Uh... yes, sir?" the boy responded.

"You spend your days performing drudgery around the Tavern-Hall." Smoothly moving past the insult, Damien continued, "Surely you must pick up on at least some things here and there. Have you heard of any contracts that may be coming open soon?"

"I wouldn't really know about that, sir," he responded. "But there has been a contract posted for some time for Gold-tier members that was just taken down an hour ago. Rumor has it that they're short-handed and about to offer it to anyone willing to accept it. Something about a missing caravan."

With a gleam in his eye, Damien thanked the boy and handed him his empty wine-skin. Rising from the bar, he made his way to the door leading into the interior hallway that connected the tavern to the administrative areas of the Tavern-Hall. Seeing the coast was clear, Damien invoked an illusory change. Any eyes that spotted him at this point would only see Barnaby. With the boy's voice and mannerisms in mind, he approached the small administrative contracts office and knocked on the door. "Hello sir, it's Barnaby. I was told to see if you needed any assistance with anything."

An officious looking clerk, whose name escaped Damien at the moment, opened the door and thrust out an official looking notice. "Post this in the taproom," the clerk said before slamming the door closed. Examining the notice, the warlock was nearly giddy to see the notice was for the contract Barnaby had mentioned. Excellent, he thought, barely keeping himself from cackling evilly. Reading through the notice, he paused at the mention of a 'Mote of Elemental Earth' before making his mark on the notice and returning to the tavern. Prior to entering, he dispelled his illusion. Walking up to the Notice Board, he tacked the paper to the cork board and returned to the spot he had recently vacated at the bar.

Let the others fight over the remaining spots. I, for one, will be going on this little adventure.

Thaliss was quietly enjoying a young elvish wine when his attention was drawn to the human pinning something to the notice board. The last few days had been rather quiet, and he was eager to see some action. Springing up from his chair with practiced reflexes, he headed up to the board addressing the human next to the notice.
"Anything interesting, friend" he said, as he read the sheet. "one thousand! definitely not bad. I've been looking for a challenge, and this just may be the right one." Turning to face the human, he adds, extending his hand with a friendly smile "Thaliss is the name, and it looks like we'll be getting to know one another!"

Damien looked the half-elf up and down. Sensing something of a kindred spirit, he shook the proffered hand. "Well met, Thaliss. I am called Damien Darkspawn by some. I hope our efforts will result in great rewards and possible promotion. Shall we retire to the bar and await the remainder of our future companions?"

The warlock headed for the bar.

Tolan gets up from his table and squeezes past the two gentlemen congregating at the bar to read the newly posted notice. His fingers drum an idle rhythm on his scabbard as he contemplates the paper for a moment. After a moment, he nods decisively to himself and scrawls two more names at the bottom of the paper. His clothing and purse were both worn depressingly thin, and this kind of money could help rectify both issues.

Returning to his seat, he faces Aridha sitting across from him.

"More missing person work. Seems to be a lot of that going around lately. From the job rank and reward offered it sounds like it could be more than a little bit dangerous, though."

He grins slyly.

"So I signed you up too."

"Darkspawn! What a name! I am sure there must be a very interesting story behind it!" Thaliss goes with Damien to the bar, and merrily chitchats with him, appreciating this newly found charismatic companion.

OCC: it must be quite a sight to observe two 18+ charisma adventurers in a bar conversing!

Damien listened with pseduo-interest to Thaliss, but cut him off as he nodded toward the notice. "Your pardon, Thaliss, but it looks like someone else has taken interest in our contract. As an added bonus, he looks like he could intercept an arrow or two on our behalf. Should we introduce ourselves?"

The warlock kept his eyes on the wild-looking elf and watched as he sat down at a table with a female elf. Glancing at Thaliss' semi-pointed ears, he thought, Why does it always have to be elves?

Among the guests at the guild hall is Brother Eardon, a half-elf follower of Lathander, god of the dawn. Brother Eardon approaches the Tolan and Aridha looking for an ear. "I recently came from Beliard by way of Westbridge. I saw that delegation from Mirabar two tendays ago when I left. I'm a bit surprised they have not shown up yet. That Knight Commander that was with them... Roman? Momon? He's famous. He was a Platinum adventurer some time ago. Had a falling out with his compatriots or such. Swore his loyalty to the king or queen or what-have-you and joined up with his home nation. Something personal, I would wager. If they did go missing, I would be more than a little careful if I were you. There's been a lot of missing persons of late."

Red Larch is a little town on the Long Road, a few days' travel north of Waterdeep and south of Yartar. It's a way station for caravans coming to or from the cities of the North, with only one inn, the Swinging Sword.

An important delegation from the city of Mirabar disappeared in the nearby Sumber Hills. The whole town is also abuzz with news and rumors of fierce raiders, roaming monsters, suspicious strangers, and unseasonable weather.

Click to expand...

Another gentleman, a slovenly copper adventurer mired in an almost permanent crust of dirt and grime and a wreath of hair around his head seems to be making a show of telling some other copper adventurers quite the tale. "It's out by a barren hilltop a few miles from the Larch. Four of em. Freshly dug shallow graves. Earth scraped out for the holes nearby. You could smell death on em. Something strange. But nobody passed out that way in a while, cept me. I don't know what to make of it."

Tolan nods a greeting to Brother Eardon as the man joins the conversation.

"Indeed, Brother Dawnbringer, I thank you for your concerns. It does seem like this valley is best by unfriendly times. I am sure that the Knight Commander is a capable man, but there are many things that can catch a person unaware when they are distracted by other matters. We will be going out with the knowledge that something has already gone wrong. Also, we will not be alone. Two others had put their mark to the notice as well."