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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 4543232" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Side Trek (I): The Grave of Blacksoul</span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: red">[GM Note: This session featured two 3rd level characters, Douvan Stahl the Human Ranger, and Merric Littlefoot the Halfling Rogue, approximately one week before the main storyline takes place. Douvan is an NPC from the campaign book, fleshed out here to a full character].</span></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Background Info (not roleplayed):</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p>Douvan Stahl is a gruff, hairy blond man, more content living off nature’s bounty than the comforts of civilization. Merric Littlefoot is the opposite; he prefers to skulk in urban shadows and lift unwanted (or unnoticed) goods from the rich and irritating. Together, they work as a team; one gruff and blunt, the other cheerful and boisterous.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/dou.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/merric.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>These guys need money, and the Gem of the North, mighty Silverymoon, has no shortage of opportunities. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/merp.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>Two weeks ago they were hired by Merple the Moneylender. The bespectacled squat businessman hired them to find an ancient dragon burial ground somewhere near the small town of Winterhaven. According to their employer, a black dragon named Blacksoul (in Common, translated to Nar-Shagor in Draconic) was long ago slain in a duel with a golden wyrm, their blood raining from the sky. The corpse was buried somewhere in the hills by either the Cult of the Dragon or some other sympathetic party, and now Merple wants to find this burial ground. </p><p></p><p>He is a historian and procurer of lost knowledge. Douvan and Merric’s mission is to find this place, determine if it is intact, if there are obstacles in the area, and gauge whether anything is worth salvaging. Simple enough. If there’s enough reason to return, Merple will finance an excavation with a full team of workers.</p><p></p><p>So, loading their mule Jim with gear, Douvan and Merric travel south from Silverymoon to Winterhaven, braving brigands on the road, and arrive at the front gates near the end of the month, a few days shy of the first of Mirtul, the Melting.</p><p></p><p>[A week before Ash, Erevan, Irann, Helga, and Brandis Padraig arrive in Winterhaven].</p><p></p><p>But Douvan spends some time drinking and whoring first, most notably with Salvana Wrafton of Wrafton’s Inn [This is the DMs input, not the player’s]. The lusty innkeeper caught the ranger’s eye right from the start, but after bedding her for just a few short days, Douvan quickly found that Salvana could not stop talking about a certain Lord Padraig of Winterhaven, and what a wonderful man he is and how SHE should have been Lady Padraig instead! Jealousy rears its ugly fanged head. </p><p></p><p>By the good gods, Douvan doesn’t want to hear this, nor does he even care, so he and Merric inquire about where they can find this dragon grave. Well, it’s not common knowledge anymore, it must have happened long ago, but they are finally able to glean the information from a local sage and scholar: Valthrun the Prescient. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/val.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>The portly man draws them a rough map of the area indicating where the grave might be found. </p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The Adventure Starts (everything until now was just summarized):</strong></p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/road1.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/guys.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>They leave at dawn with Jim the mule, marching northward along an abandoned road into a fine cold drizzle. Black clouds hover overhead, and thunder rumbles gently in the distance. They’re looking for a bridge near the road, and find it a mile outside of town. The creek would normally be passable, but heavy rains have swollen it. Water churns through the gorge, and the bridge itself doesn’t look safe. Still, Merric gives it a try, tying himself off with a rope just in case the bridge collapses. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/bridge.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>He’s about halfway across when the wood and railing suddenly splits, nearly hurling him into the water. Merric leaps to safety, and an excellent Thievery roll indicates that the bridge collapsed in a predetermined manner. Looking closer, he spies extra ropes and widgets on the underside of the fallen bridge, rigged in such a way to fall if a certain amount of weight is applied. It is also constructed to be repairable. </p><p></p><p>With Douvan’s help, they snag the opposite side of the bridge, and swing it back up an d repair it in a manner that should support their weight. In theory anyway. Still, the middle of the bridge is in bad shape, but they cross one at a time, even the mule Jim who is oblivious to the danger. </p><p></p><p>Rain falls harder now and they’re quite chilled. They trudge on, passing a land marker on the map, a tall rocky knoll. Not long afterward both men hear something in the distance: the distinct ring of metal striking rock. They’re both stealthy, so they leave Jim roped up behind them and creep through the underbrush, peeking out to see an unusual sight:</p><p></p><p>A large number of scaly kobolds are congregating at the bottom of a dig site. The ground has been heavily excavated, and they’re still at work near the center with pickaxes. Large black bones rest in the center of a ring of small white skulls. Merric and Douvan look at each other, passing the unspoken agreement that they do NOT want to get in a fight with these guys. There’s just too many of them. </p><p></p><p>The dig site is filling with water and mud from the rain, and it is clearly hampering their progress. The kobolds are complaining, “It’s cold!” “I’m tired of this!” “I wanna go!” Both Douvan and Merric know a few words of Draconic. They keep watching for a while and soon newcomers arrive: a burly red-haired human man wearing no shirt, and a robed kobold bearing a rat-skull staff. </p><p></p><p>“Did you find it?” bellows the human in Common.</p><p></p><p>“Yes! Yes! Finds it!” several of the kobolds answer. Thunder crashes again, closer than before, and more words are exchanged between them. </p><p></p><p>“Finish it later,” the human says. “Too much rain. Mud. We’ll come back.”</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/dig.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>The kobolds like this idea, and the group starts leaving up the hill, soon lost from sight in the encroaching rain and gloom. Now, Douvan and Merric really want to see what’s down in that hole, so they wait a while to make sure no kobolds wander back. Douvan goes first, Merric hanging back to keep watch. He slogs through shallow water and mud until he reaches the ring of skulls. They’re clearly dog-like kobold skulls, some older than others. Charred blackened bones fill the center of this ring, but something even stranger juts up from the middle: the top of an ornate silver mirror is buried among the skeletal remains. </p><p></p><p>Exquisite silver crenellations frame the glass, about six inches of which rises from the mud. Against all possible odds, the glass is not cracked or tarnished. Judging from the small part that he can see, most of the mirror is still submerged. </p><p></p><p>Douvan slogs back to Merric. “We need the mule,” he says. “Go get him. I’ll start digging. It won’t be easy but I think we can drag it out.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?”</p><p></p><p>“Why not? Now get goin’. I don’t want those ugly buggers to return.”</p><p></p><p>Merric retrieves Joe, giving Douvan about fifteen minutes to dig as hard and fast as he can with an abandoned shovel. But water and mud fills the hole faster than he can extract it, and by the time Merric returns the ranger is angry and slathered in mud. They put their heads together and try a different tactic. The excavation site has lumber from the original hill, and the group has plenty of rope with them. What heroes wouldn’t? They decide to rig a device over the mirror and use Jim the Mule to haul the mirror up and out. They’re not sure if it will work, or even how long it will take, but they get started anyway. </p><p></p><p>Half an hour into their project, with an “X” of wood erected over the mirror, bolstered by rocks for support, Douvan and Merric hear singing from multiple voices, one very deep, the others higher-pitched. It’s a butchered version of the Common tongue. They freeze.</p><p></p><p>It’s hard to discern the origin, definitely outside the dig site, and they wonder if they should run or hide. </p><p></p><p><em><strong>“SO…der was an elfsy and his name was GRUE….</strong></em></p><p><em><strong>…but we cut him up and shut him up and cooked him in our STEW!</strong></em></p><p><em><strong></strong></em></p><p><em><strong>…and SO…der was a dwarvsie with a big beard too thick…</strong></em></p><p><em><strong>…but we cut him up and shut him up and ate him on STICK! Ho!”</strong></em></p><p></p><p>Three figures appear at the east side of the hole: a huge bugbear, his fur matted from the rain. A goblin rides on his shoulder; another goblin struts at his side. All three goblinoids freeze as soon as they spot the Halfling and human crouched in the mud and water at the bottom of the dragon grave. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/goblins.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 4543232, member: 31465"] [size=4]Side Trek (I): The Grave of Blacksoul[/size] [color=red][GM Note: This session featured two 3rd level characters, Douvan Stahl the Human Ranger, and Merric Littlefoot the Halfling Rogue, approximately one week before the main storyline takes place. Douvan is an NPC from the campaign book, fleshed out here to a full character].[/color] [b] Background Info (not roleplayed): [/b] Douvan Stahl is a gruff, hairy blond man, more content living off nature’s bounty than the comforts of civilization. Merric Littlefoot is the opposite; he prefers to skulk in urban shadows and lift unwanted (or unnoticed) goods from the rich and irritating. Together, they work as a team; one gruff and blunt, the other cheerful and boisterous. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/dou.jpg[/img] [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/merric.jpg[/img] These guys need money, and the Gem of the North, mighty Silverymoon, has no shortage of opportunities. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/merp.jpg[/img] Two weeks ago they were hired by Merple the Moneylender. The bespectacled squat businessman hired them to find an ancient dragon burial ground somewhere near the small town of Winterhaven. According to their employer, a black dragon named Blacksoul (in Common, translated to Nar-Shagor in Draconic) was long ago slain in a duel with a golden wyrm, their blood raining from the sky. The corpse was buried somewhere in the hills by either the Cult of the Dragon or some other sympathetic party, and now Merple wants to find this burial ground. He is a historian and procurer of lost knowledge. Douvan and Merric’s mission is to find this place, determine if it is intact, if there are obstacles in the area, and gauge whether anything is worth salvaging. Simple enough. If there’s enough reason to return, Merple will finance an excavation with a full team of workers. So, loading their mule Jim with gear, Douvan and Merric travel south from Silverymoon to Winterhaven, braving brigands on the road, and arrive at the front gates near the end of the month, a few days shy of the first of Mirtul, the Melting. [A week before Ash, Erevan, Irann, Helga, and Brandis Padraig arrive in Winterhaven]. But Douvan spends some time drinking and whoring first, most notably with Salvana Wrafton of Wrafton’s Inn [This is the DMs input, not the player’s]. The lusty innkeeper caught the ranger’s eye right from the start, but after bedding her for just a few short days, Douvan quickly found that Salvana could not stop talking about a certain Lord Padraig of Winterhaven, and what a wonderful man he is and how SHE should have been Lady Padraig instead! Jealousy rears its ugly fanged head. By the good gods, Douvan doesn’t want to hear this, nor does he even care, so he and Merric inquire about where they can find this dragon grave. Well, it’s not common knowledge anymore, it must have happened long ago, but they are finally able to glean the information from a local sage and scholar: Valthrun the Prescient. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/val.jpg[/img] The portly man draws them a rough map of the area indicating where the grave might be found. [b] The Adventure Starts (everything until now was just summarized):[/b] [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/road1.jpg[/img] [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/guys.jpg[/img] They leave at dawn with Jim the mule, marching northward along an abandoned road into a fine cold drizzle. Black clouds hover overhead, and thunder rumbles gently in the distance. They’re looking for a bridge near the road, and find it a mile outside of town. The creek would normally be passable, but heavy rains have swollen it. Water churns through the gorge, and the bridge itself doesn’t look safe. Still, Merric gives it a try, tying himself off with a rope just in case the bridge collapses. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/bridge.jpg[/img] He’s about halfway across when the wood and railing suddenly splits, nearly hurling him into the water. Merric leaps to safety, and an excellent Thievery roll indicates that the bridge collapsed in a predetermined manner. Looking closer, he spies extra ropes and widgets on the underside of the fallen bridge, rigged in such a way to fall if a certain amount of weight is applied. It is also constructed to be repairable. With Douvan’s help, they snag the opposite side of the bridge, and swing it back up an d repair it in a manner that should support their weight. In theory anyway. Still, the middle of the bridge is in bad shape, but they cross one at a time, even the mule Jim who is oblivious to the danger. Rain falls harder now and they’re quite chilled. They trudge on, passing a land marker on the map, a tall rocky knoll. Not long afterward both men hear something in the distance: the distinct ring of metal striking rock. They’re both stealthy, so they leave Jim roped up behind them and creep through the underbrush, peeking out to see an unusual sight: A large number of scaly kobolds are congregating at the bottom of a dig site. The ground has been heavily excavated, and they’re still at work near the center with pickaxes. Large black bones rest in the center of a ring of small white skulls. Merric and Douvan look at each other, passing the unspoken agreement that they do NOT want to get in a fight with these guys. There’s just too many of them. The dig site is filling with water and mud from the rain, and it is clearly hampering their progress. The kobolds are complaining, “It’s cold!” “I’m tired of this!” “I wanna go!” Both Douvan and Merric know a few words of Draconic. They keep watching for a while and soon newcomers arrive: a burly red-haired human man wearing no shirt, and a robed kobold bearing a rat-skull staff. “Did you find it?” bellows the human in Common. “Yes! Yes! Finds it!” several of the kobolds answer. Thunder crashes again, closer than before, and more words are exchanged between them. “Finish it later,” the human says. “Too much rain. Mud. We’ll come back.” [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/dig.jpg[/img] The kobolds like this idea, and the group starts leaving up the hill, soon lost from sight in the encroaching rain and gloom. Now, Douvan and Merric really want to see what’s down in that hole, so they wait a while to make sure no kobolds wander back. Douvan goes first, Merric hanging back to keep watch. He slogs through shallow water and mud until he reaches the ring of skulls. They’re clearly dog-like kobold skulls, some older than others. Charred blackened bones fill the center of this ring, but something even stranger juts up from the middle: the top of an ornate silver mirror is buried among the skeletal remains. Exquisite silver crenellations frame the glass, about six inches of which rises from the mud. Against all possible odds, the glass is not cracked or tarnished. Judging from the small part that he can see, most of the mirror is still submerged. Douvan slogs back to Merric. “We need the mule,” he says. “Go get him. I’ll start digging. It won’t be easy but I think we can drag it out.” “Why?” “Why not? Now get goin’. I don’t want those ugly buggers to return.” Merric retrieves Joe, giving Douvan about fifteen minutes to dig as hard and fast as he can with an abandoned shovel. But water and mud fills the hole faster than he can extract it, and by the time Merric returns the ranger is angry and slathered in mud. They put their heads together and try a different tactic. The excavation site has lumber from the original hill, and the group has plenty of rope with them. What heroes wouldn’t? They decide to rig a device over the mirror and use Jim the Mule to haul the mirror up and out. They’re not sure if it will work, or even how long it will take, but they get started anyway. Half an hour into their project, with an “X” of wood erected over the mirror, bolstered by rocks for support, Douvan and Merric hear singing from multiple voices, one very deep, the others higher-pitched. It’s a butchered version of the Common tongue. They freeze. It’s hard to discern the origin, definitely outside the dig site, and they wonder if they should run or hide. [i][b]“SO…der was an elfsy and his name was GRUE…. …but we cut him up and shut him up and cooked him in our STEW! …and SO…der was a dwarvsie with a big beard too thick… …but we cut him up and shut him up and ate him on STICK! Ho!”[/b][/i] Three figures appear at the east side of the hole: a huge bugbear, his fur matted from the rain. A goblin rides on his shoulder; another goblin struts at his side. All three goblinoids freeze as soon as they spot the Halfling and human crouched in the mud and water at the bottom of the dragon grave. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/goblins.jpg[/img] [/QUOTE]
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