I am writing this story hour in the hopes that I can both refine my techniques as DM, and to refine my writing skills. The former is more important to me. With this in mind I ask that if you read it you provide whatever constructive criticism you have insight to provide. I will post in the Plots and Places forum the NPCs in a similar hope. Also, I understand that the Campaign title is generic, but I usually don't name these and it is not a high priority.
This campaign is set in a self-fabricated world. It uses the D&D pantheon and I can think of no derivation in rules or convention that I use. It is set on the continent of Moriscopa, in the country Delvenheim, the country was originally a Dwarven sanctum. If there are any other questions feel free to ask.
The Campaign has one player, Griffin, he plays a high level Master Transmogrifist named Celborn (pronounced 'sell-born'). He sometimes makes awful choices.
Samerhall is dominated by two structures. The first is the palatial mansion owned by Celborn in the western portion of the city. On the opposite side of the city the skyline is dominated by the ducal estates. Following a necromantic assault thirteen years ago, the duke proffered the mansion as a gift for the efforts of Celborn. (He had fought through part of the main horde of skeletons and zombies and fought the necromancer in magical combat) The mansion was previously owned by the duke’s nephew (who perished in the assault) Celborn retained many of the surviving attendants.
It was one of these attendants that greeted the cloaked man on a cool summer night. After showing the man to the parlor, the attendant moved to the pool to inform Celborn of this visitor. The attendant, Geric, breathed a sigh of relief when he found his employer lounging beside the pool. (All too often Celborn would transform into a water elemental and hide in the pool to surprise unwary employees)
“Sir,” Geric said, “there is a man in the parlor for you, his name is Malkris and he says he has an important message for you.”
Celborn opened his eyes and stood up, “Never heard of him. Very well.”
Celborn incanted briefly and transformed into a cheetah. He sprinted through the mansion, much to the chagrin of his staff. He polymorphed back into his normal self before entering the parlor.
He did indeed find a cloaked man in his parlor. The man wore enough black cloaks that only a darkly shadowed face was visible underneath. He was statuesque and held an air of indifference. More impressive, though, was his jewel encrusted sword.
The man spoke in a low voice, just above a whisper. His voice was even, nearly monotone, “I come at the behest of my master.”
“Who is your master?”
“Her name is Cariv.”
Celborn searched his memory but came up blank, “I know of no Cariv, perhaps you have come to the wrong place.”
“No, you are Celborn and my message is for you. My master wishes to arrange a meeting.”
“She could have come here, why were you sent,” Celborn asked.
It seemed a whisper of a smile showed from beneath the hood, “Her form would frighten the sheep. If you wish to hear her proposition, come to the Grove south of town at midnight three nights from now.”
“Very well.”
With that, the cloaked man dissolved into a swarm of bats which flew out of the open windows and into the night sky.
Celborn walked, an unusual task for him lately, towards the grove. He smiled inwardly as he noted a tree with blackened scars, a memory of his younger days when he had tripped over one of its roots.
He returned to the present as he viewed four figures under the trees. Most seemed shrouded, but one was winged and stood out from the others. The winged creature was of greater statue than the others, and his skin and feathered wings shone with a dark brilliance. He stood apart from the other three and looked away. As did another, shrouded in a dark robe, only his skeletal face and hands were visible. He held a large scythe parallel to the ground.
The other two included Malkris, and what Celborn presumed to be Cariv, his master. She was nude, but her fetid and decaying body held no allure. Her eyes were pits of red.
“So,” Celborn said, “You brought me here.”
“Yes,” Cariv said. “I have a proposal,” she continued, “I wish for you to hand over the city of Samerhall.”
Unbelievable. “And what will you do?” Celeborn asked.
“We won’t kill the citizens. If you were to require us to take the city by force many of its residents would perish.”
Celborn incanted and changed into the shape of a gold dragon, “Leave, and never return,” he said in the majestic timbre of the dragon’s voice.
Two things happened very quickly. Cariv’s servant dispersed into the swarm of bats and reformed behind Celborn, and the winged creature interjected itself between Celborn and Cariv with one beat of its wings. Cariv was barely visible behind the full wingspan of the creature, but her voice carried past, “We do not wish to fight,” she said, “surrender the city and there will be no bloodshed.”
The winged creature was surrounded by a corona of blue light, his pupils dilated to encompass the entire eye, which bled. The sky blackened until the stars were blotted out. He pointed towards Celborn’s draconic form and a purple ray sprang from his fingertips. It struck Celborn and he was forced into his human form. [At this point I expected the player to flee, I figured it was obviously an epic spell, but I had forgotten that he is mostly dumb about fighting another day.]
Celborn attempted to neutralize the winged creature’s magic by shifting into the form of a beholder. He focused his main eye on the winged creature and Cariv. [I allowed him to use the beholder’s eye-stalk rays with the main eye open, mostly because I didn’t want to search too much, and I am generally lenient when the game is in session, if anyone knows anything to contradict this, post it with a book and page number please] He then attempted to turn Malkris to stone while simultaneously using Finger of Death on him, and he disintegrated the robed figure with the scythe. Malkris resisted both effects, but the Scythe wielder lost a large portion of his anatomy.
The scythe wielder became enveloped by a shimmering dark sphere, behind which Celborn could see his wounds healing rapidly.
Malkris dashed forward and swept his katana out of his sheath with an inhuman speed, the katana seemed to strike from the shadows and not from the blade. He struck Celborn with a deep slash.
The winged creature pulled a sword from nothingness, much to the surprise of Celborn.
Cariv looked on in disappointed but made no attempt to stop the combat.
Celborn, fearful of the blade, transformed again, this time to the form of a black pudding, he immediately engulfed the winged creature, which resisted the acid but didn’t take kindly to being slammed against the ground.
The scythe wielder released his own ray of disintegration but the spell failed to affect Celborn. Again the wielder’s wounds healed.
Malkris sheathed his sword and waited for further instruction from Cariv.
The winged creature uttered a brief word and vanished.
Cariv uttered a brief word, but the spell she cast was absorbed harmlessly into an ioun stone that swirled around the Pudding.
Celborn, denied his first victim, engulfed Cariv and begun to burn her with his corrosives and bear his weight down upon her.
The Scythe wielder spun his blade and needle-like missiles shot out from the scythe to strike the pudding. Celborn felt his strength fading from the assault.
Malkris, with a telepathic command from Cariv, dispersed as bats into the night.
Cariv said to Celborn, “You won’t defeat me thusly.” Her body began to heat up.
Celborn again slammed her into the ground and still she was conscious.
The Scythe wielder invoked a hold monster spell but the effect was absorbed by the ioun stone. After this he invoked a plane shift.
Celborn slammed Cariv a third and fourth time before she exploded in fiery might.
Celborn, damaged and weary, returned to Samerhall alone and without success.
A little explanation may be in order, Cariv could probably have annihilated Celborn, she had however ran into unexpected trouble before the meeting. Also, if she had killed him, his death would have attracted heroes from around the country, some of which she may not have been able to defeat. The Scythe wielder’s purpose was to ensure that the winged creature, Paramembrin, was not defeated, once he left the scythe wielder was not inclined to stay very long. Also I should note that the four NPCs agenda were not all the same here.
This campaign is set in a self-fabricated world. It uses the D&D pantheon and I can think of no derivation in rules or convention that I use. It is set on the continent of Moriscopa, in the country Delvenheim, the country was originally a Dwarven sanctum. If there are any other questions feel free to ask.
The Campaign has one player, Griffin, he plays a high level Master Transmogrifist named Celborn (pronounced 'sell-born'). He sometimes makes awful choices.
Samerhall is dominated by two structures. The first is the palatial mansion owned by Celborn in the western portion of the city. On the opposite side of the city the skyline is dominated by the ducal estates. Following a necromantic assault thirteen years ago, the duke proffered the mansion as a gift for the efforts of Celborn. (He had fought through part of the main horde of skeletons and zombies and fought the necromancer in magical combat) The mansion was previously owned by the duke’s nephew (who perished in the assault) Celborn retained many of the surviving attendants.
It was one of these attendants that greeted the cloaked man on a cool summer night. After showing the man to the parlor, the attendant moved to the pool to inform Celborn of this visitor. The attendant, Geric, breathed a sigh of relief when he found his employer lounging beside the pool. (All too often Celborn would transform into a water elemental and hide in the pool to surprise unwary employees)
“Sir,” Geric said, “there is a man in the parlor for you, his name is Malkris and he says he has an important message for you.”
Celborn opened his eyes and stood up, “Never heard of him. Very well.”
Celborn incanted briefly and transformed into a cheetah. He sprinted through the mansion, much to the chagrin of his staff. He polymorphed back into his normal self before entering the parlor.
He did indeed find a cloaked man in his parlor. The man wore enough black cloaks that only a darkly shadowed face was visible underneath. He was statuesque and held an air of indifference. More impressive, though, was his jewel encrusted sword.
The man spoke in a low voice, just above a whisper. His voice was even, nearly monotone, “I come at the behest of my master.”
“Who is your master?”
“Her name is Cariv.”
Celborn searched his memory but came up blank, “I know of no Cariv, perhaps you have come to the wrong place.”
“No, you are Celborn and my message is for you. My master wishes to arrange a meeting.”
“She could have come here, why were you sent,” Celborn asked.
It seemed a whisper of a smile showed from beneath the hood, “Her form would frighten the sheep. If you wish to hear her proposition, come to the Grove south of town at midnight three nights from now.”
“Very well.”
With that, the cloaked man dissolved into a swarm of bats which flew out of the open windows and into the night sky.
Celborn walked, an unusual task for him lately, towards the grove. He smiled inwardly as he noted a tree with blackened scars, a memory of his younger days when he had tripped over one of its roots.
He returned to the present as he viewed four figures under the trees. Most seemed shrouded, but one was winged and stood out from the others. The winged creature was of greater statue than the others, and his skin and feathered wings shone with a dark brilliance. He stood apart from the other three and looked away. As did another, shrouded in a dark robe, only his skeletal face and hands were visible. He held a large scythe parallel to the ground.
The other two included Malkris, and what Celborn presumed to be Cariv, his master. She was nude, but her fetid and decaying body held no allure. Her eyes were pits of red.
“So,” Celborn said, “You brought me here.”
“Yes,” Cariv said. “I have a proposal,” she continued, “I wish for you to hand over the city of Samerhall.”
Unbelievable. “And what will you do?” Celeborn asked.
“We won’t kill the citizens. If you were to require us to take the city by force many of its residents would perish.”
Celborn incanted and changed into the shape of a gold dragon, “Leave, and never return,” he said in the majestic timbre of the dragon’s voice.
Two things happened very quickly. Cariv’s servant dispersed into the swarm of bats and reformed behind Celborn, and the winged creature interjected itself between Celborn and Cariv with one beat of its wings. Cariv was barely visible behind the full wingspan of the creature, but her voice carried past, “We do not wish to fight,” she said, “surrender the city and there will be no bloodshed.”
The winged creature was surrounded by a corona of blue light, his pupils dilated to encompass the entire eye, which bled. The sky blackened until the stars were blotted out. He pointed towards Celborn’s draconic form and a purple ray sprang from his fingertips. It struck Celborn and he was forced into his human form. [At this point I expected the player to flee, I figured it was obviously an epic spell, but I had forgotten that he is mostly dumb about fighting another day.]
Celborn attempted to neutralize the winged creature’s magic by shifting into the form of a beholder. He focused his main eye on the winged creature and Cariv. [I allowed him to use the beholder’s eye-stalk rays with the main eye open, mostly because I didn’t want to search too much, and I am generally lenient when the game is in session, if anyone knows anything to contradict this, post it with a book and page number please] He then attempted to turn Malkris to stone while simultaneously using Finger of Death on him, and he disintegrated the robed figure with the scythe. Malkris resisted both effects, but the Scythe wielder lost a large portion of his anatomy.
The scythe wielder became enveloped by a shimmering dark sphere, behind which Celborn could see his wounds healing rapidly.
Malkris dashed forward and swept his katana out of his sheath with an inhuman speed, the katana seemed to strike from the shadows and not from the blade. He struck Celborn with a deep slash.
The winged creature pulled a sword from nothingness, much to the surprise of Celborn.
Cariv looked on in disappointed but made no attempt to stop the combat.
Celborn, fearful of the blade, transformed again, this time to the form of a black pudding, he immediately engulfed the winged creature, which resisted the acid but didn’t take kindly to being slammed against the ground.
The scythe wielder released his own ray of disintegration but the spell failed to affect Celborn. Again the wielder’s wounds healed.
Malkris sheathed his sword and waited for further instruction from Cariv.
The winged creature uttered a brief word and vanished.
Cariv uttered a brief word, but the spell she cast was absorbed harmlessly into an ioun stone that swirled around the Pudding.
Celborn, denied his first victim, engulfed Cariv and begun to burn her with his corrosives and bear his weight down upon her.
The Scythe wielder spun his blade and needle-like missiles shot out from the scythe to strike the pudding. Celborn felt his strength fading from the assault.
Malkris, with a telepathic command from Cariv, dispersed as bats into the night.
Cariv said to Celborn, “You won’t defeat me thusly.” Her body began to heat up.
Celborn again slammed her into the ground and still she was conscious.
The Scythe wielder invoked a hold monster spell but the effect was absorbed by the ioun stone. After this he invoked a plane shift.
Celborn slammed Cariv a third and fourth time before she exploded in fiery might.
Celborn, damaged and weary, returned to Samerhall alone and without success.
A little explanation may be in order, Cariv could probably have annihilated Celborn, she had however ran into unexpected trouble before the meeting. Also, if she had killed him, his death would have attracted heroes from around the country, some of which she may not have been able to defeat. The Scythe wielder’s purpose was to ensure that the winged creature, Paramembrin, was not defeated, once he left the scythe wielder was not inclined to stay very long. Also I should note that the four NPCs agenda were not all the same here.
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