D&D 5E [IC] The New World (Volo Monsters)

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• OOC thread
• Recruiting thread

PCs

• Drutha Keldret (KahlessNestor): Hobgoblin Fighter
• Karok the Crow (tglassy): Orc Storm Sorcerer
• Moon Moon (Creamsteak): Kobold Druid
• Nert Muckshredder (TallIan): Goblin Ranger
• Ripnek Ratkiller (JustinCase): Bugbear Rogue
• Saashala (Shayuri): Yuan-ti Warlock

Game Background

The great kingdoms of the West ebb and flow, but none seems to ever rise to dominate the land. Until now: the discovery of the New World may give any one of those kingdoms an insurmountable edge in wealth and influence. Needless to say, they are all over the opportunity.

There's only one little problem: the New World is already occupied.

Well, at least it would be a problem if the Orcs, Goblinoids, Kobolds, and miscellaneous other inhabitants could manage to band together and fight off the invaders. Instead of, say, fighting each other as much as anybody else, burying their heads in the sand, or each backing out of any alliance in which they are not universally acknowledged as the Supreme Masters.

Yet against the onrushing tide of humans, elves, dwarves, and friends, eventually it becomes obvious to the even the most hardened Orc or Bugbear that something has to be done. When grand alliances are out of the question, the only remaining possibility is to start small.

Each race has agreed to provide one hero, one open-minded hero of his or her kind, who can acknowledge the strengths of the others, put aside old grudges (at least for a time), and work toward the common goal of driving these undeserving invaders back across the ocean. Or perhaps better, into a shallow grave.

But the grand kings and champions would never acknowledge the equality of a lowly goblin or slithering snake-man. The up-and-comers know the better money is on pleasing the elders, not going against the grain. Which pretty much leaves the outcasts, the infirm, and the young and stupid to take up the flag of unity.

Which brings us to you.

Final Character Backstory

[sblock="Drutha Keldret"]As Drutha leaves the camp, a small, hunched-over hobgoblin steps out of the shadows. His age is immediately striking -- far older than any Hobgoblin she's ever seen. Older, and perhaps more frail, than she would have thought possible for her race. She may have the urge to strike him down out of hand, but the power and control in his voice stays any such instinct.


The he steps back into the shadows, and is gone.[/sblock]
[sblock="Karok the Crow"]As Karok makes his preparations to leave, a Priestess of Luthic slips into the cave he briefly called his own. Judging by the full bearskin cloak and massive claws, she is highly placed indeed. She shares only a few brief words with Karok before slipping back to the whelping pens.

[/sblock]
[sblock="Moon Moon"]Following his last words to the Candle King, Moon Moon turns and departs. A small rat follows along. When Moon Moon looks inquiringly at his companion, the rat speaks.


Then it scurries away.[/sblock]
[sblock="Nert Muckshredder"]The Boss actually has a bit of trouble getting someone to unlock the cage. Because anybody approaching the lock would be in danger of, at least for the moment, standing closer to the assignment than Nert was. In the few moments while the Boss petulantly demands that someone step forward to release the prisoner, Nert feels the touch of what can only be Booyahg on his mind.


Nert looks quickly around, but every goblin in sight seems preoccupied with his own footwear. And then, Nert is free. Exiled, yes, but free.[/sblock]
[sblock="Ripnek Ratkiller"]As Ripnek leaves the camp, alone and shamed once again, his frustration comes to a head and he kicks one of the spikes marking the edge of the territory. The territory that one day, he hopes, will be his.

Imagine his surprise when the head mounted on the spike looks straight at him and speaks!


Before Ripnek can overcome his shock, the head falls limp again.[/sblock]
[sblock=Saashala]Standing in front of the Tribunal, Saashala didn't see much hope for the future. Already discredited once, she was summoned again to answer for her overly sympathetic treatment of the latest slaves she had been assigned. She felt the disgust of Kalik, her patron, for her failure to turn circumstances to their advantage.

All that was erased in a moment when the First Judge described the assignment to cooperate with the meat races. Hardly believing her luck, Saashala could only stammer her acceptance. At that instant, she heard Kalik's "Yesss!" and he rewarded her with the major boon of the Awakened Mind. The minds of the judges, previously inscrutable, now glowed to her sight. One of the minds, belonging to a Malison with a tail snaking twice around his podium, even reached out to her. His body never gave her a second glance, but the mental message was unmistakeable.

[/sblock]

And That Brings Us To Tonight...

Each of you was given a scrawled map and hasty directions. For the most part, nobody in your clan, tribe, or gang actually wanted to speak to you, but it would be even worse if you actually returned because you were unable to make the meeting. Karok and Saashala are the only ones to have any trouble finding it, the former perhaps because the navigation he's used to is not overland, and the latter perhaps convinced that one of the upper caste simply wanted to inject some misery into her journey.

Nevertheless, you each eventually reach the designated clearing in the forest. The smell of fire leads you there; in the dark of night, a raging bonfire burns.

The wind begins to rustle through the trees on one side of the clearing. Slowly, at first, then violently, and out steps a tall, bulky Orc wearing a long blue coat, open to show a white tunic and dark black pants. It is similar garb to the human sailors. The long blue coat flutters in the breeze, which seems to follow him as he approaches the fire unafraid.

Saashala lingered for a few minutes beyond the reach of the firelight. It wasn't easy. She'd hoped to get here before sundown, but the directions left for her were very vague on a few crucial landmarks. She still wasn't sure if that had been meant as yet another test, or if it was an indication of subtle dissent among the Judges. It didn't matter now. She would show them all.

The chill of the night was heavy on her though, and she felt herself slowing a little. The fire was achingly welcome, with its promise of warmth, but she needed to be careful. She was here alone now, without the more powerful yuan-ti to hold the meat in check. A strong mind could not always prevail if there were enough stronger bodies trying to injure it.

Her patience was rewarded when someone else stepped forward first. An orc, of all things. A rare sight on the surface. And what by the scaly gods was it wearing?

Of course they send their insane and their vagabonds...the ones who can barely fit in. This is the dry clay I am given to work with.

Saashala steeled herself. She would find a way. The Judges didn't believe it yet, but this was the future of the Empire she was fighting for. The yuan-ti had to adapt to the world as it was, not the world as they wished it to be...or they would forever be an anecdote in the histories of lesser beings.

She came forward into the light, a slim and sinuous figure of entirely human shape. Her clothes were normally light, to let cherished sunlight warm her skin...but as the climate turned colder she'd put another layer on, and the result was a confused mishmash with a loose breezy shirt over cloth wrappings and a flowing skirt that rippled around snug trouser legs. Hues of cyan and green and violet. A cloak that was the color of sand on one side, and a deep twilight blue on the other.

A spark of vanity compelled her not to speak to this orc, at least as meat might speak to meat. She wanted to distinguish herself from the start.

So as her strange yellow eyes bore into the equally strangely dressed orc, she smiled to show the little fangs where human canines would be, and her voice...soft and siblant...snaked into the orc's mind.

"I greet you. It is good to see the orcs taking this proposal seriously. You may address me as Saashala."

Karok inwardly recoiled at the touch of the snake woman's thoughts. A witch of some kind. He wondered what magic she may bring with her, and that peaked his curiosity. Still, her touch on his mind was revolting, and sent shivers of pent up violence through his body.

With minimal difficulty, he managed to cut off any further threats he may have wanted to sling. Being weaker than many other Orcs, despite his size, he had grown up knowing that sometimes threats simply caused more problems than they solved, and usually preferred to simply attack, rather than talk. In this case, he could not attack, and further hostilities would be useless. He knew how to play on a team. Still, establishing dominance wasn't necessarily a bad idea when a new group is formed. Perhaps something a little more veiled.

"I am Karok the Crow," he said, standing tall, refusing to cowl to this creature. "And you will stay out of my mind, Snake."

Electricity crackled along Karok's fingertips to accentuate the point. The wind picked up as well for a moment, causing the fire to flicker ominously, though not blowing it out.

Nert paused at the edge of the clearing, observing those already there, an Orc and a human? No - one of those snake men, neither looked like they had been there long. Tired and cold from the trip Nert moved towards the fire. Squatting in the warmth he placed his pack within arms length ready to flee at the first sign of violence. He watched the other race's representatives, both trying to get to the fire without being close to each other.

The snake woman bared her fangs at the orc, possibly a smile, then after a brief silence the Orc replied, "I am Karok the Crow, and you will stay out of my mind, Snake." Lightning crackled at the Orc's fingertips and the wind gusted, an incoherent squeak escaped his lips - Booyagh!

The noise drew looks from the two. Nert nervously looked from one to the other, ".....Nert." He said by way of introduction.

Karok looked down at the goblin, and grunted. Goblins. Good for fodder during battle. And not much else. Maybe he can cook.

Saashala's smile widened just a little on seeing the vulgar display the orc set forth to try to intimidate her. Clever orc. Clever meat. Wielding magic instead of an axe of stone. But the axe would be more threatening to one of the yuan-ti.

No need to go over that with this one though.

It was also pleasing to see how he recoiled from the touch of her mind. He sensed, no doubt, the power that lay within and wished to keep it out.

Saashala would oblige, for now. They were to be allies, after all.

With a glance spared for the goblin, she refocused on the orc. He's tasted the rod, let us see how he takes to the lure.

"My apologies, Karok the Crow," she said courteously. "Such a form of address is a gesture of respect among my people. We have much to learn, it seems, so that we can cooperate against our common foe."

Oh yes, she was on a roll now. Why not continue?

The humanlike yuan-ti then bestowed a smile that her experiments with humans had convinced her was 'warm' onto the goblin. "And Nert. I am Saashala. Thank you for joining us."

She didn't expect much from a goblin, but they didn't eat much either so it cost little to keep a few around. And who knew? Perhaps he'd taste good cooked.

Snakemen lie with every move of their bodies, Karok thought to himself. It was an old Orc saying about dealing with the Yuan-ti. Karok was smarter than most of his kin. He'd had to be, to survive. He would be keeping an eye on this one.

He grunted at her attempt to placate him, and looked up at the night sky. He could feel the freedom there. The power. At least he was outside, and not in the caves. Perhaps now, his talents could be appreciated.

Ripnek couldn't help thinking about the message from his deity, and what it meant. It didn't make sense to him, but then he wasn't an inscrutible god. Just before reaching the appointed spot, the bugbear decided to keep an eye out for signs from the gods, and think about it no more until then.

Approaching the clearing carefully, Ripnek decides to stay out of sight for a few moments and observe. For quite a while, nobody shows up, and the bugbear almost decides to give up and leave, when an orc steps forward.

An orc? Really? Ripnek thought it would just be goblinoids, and perhaps a kobold. Then again, all he was told was that there would be other races to cooperate with. But an orc is strong, and Ripnek fears his own strength would pale in comparison. A disgrace to his race! Ripnek feels an anger inside, a feeling of competition towards this lone orc.

No, not a lone orc. A yuan-ti had joined him, and Ripnek watches with fascination as the two seem to be measuring their respective status. The subtle magic of the orc startles him, but more importantly, the yuan-ti appears to have upper hand despite her frail stature. Perhaps Ripnek could ally with that one...

Then the goblin appears, and Ripnek almost laughs. At least there is one weaker than him. And the bugbear knows how to deal with goblins.

Deciding he's seen enough to come forward, Ripnek drops down from the tree he'd been hiding in with a loud thump. The bugbear walks slowly, the trod of a predator who knows he is superior and expects not to be challenged. His mottled brown fur is of nearly the same color as the brown leather armor he wears. A rusty shortsword is in his hand but held down, almost scraping the floor.

His eyes stay on the orc as Ripnek comes closer, stopping about 15 feet from the others. "Ripnek is here. For every enemy the orc kills, Ripnek will kill two."

Ripnek is the first to notice what's actually in the fire. But as soon as he gives it a glance, it snaps into focus for each of you.

Chairs, the seats already ruined but the backs finely carved with winding vines through leafy branches, in the tedious elven style. Chests, the wood rapidly succumbing but the massive dwarven locks glowing ruby red in the heat. Tapestries, the knights and horses consumed, but their hooves and lances pointing fiercely at creatures you might well recognize. Pint mugs, greatly prized among halflings, slowly deforming. The detritus of your foes, disintegrating in the blaze.