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Nebulous's Keep on the Shadowfell (FR)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 4564303" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Adventure #5: Shadowfell Keep</span></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>PART ONE</strong></p><p></p><p>It is the day after the battle with the bugs in the field. The group has rested and recuperated, as they suspect dangerous times in the days to come and they’ll need their strength. According to what they gleaned from Irontooth at the waterfall lair, there is a spy working for someone named KALAREL. Furthermore, the kobolds and Kalarel were in allegiance with a demonic god of undeath, the malevolent Orcus, who does not even rank among the normal Faerunian pantheon. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/orcus.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>Lord Padraig is informed of the Orcus threat and a spy in Winterhaven. The warlord is displeased by this news, and insists that this particular detail should be kept from the general populace. It seems that darker days may be in store for the denizens of Winterhaven. Now, mapping some old keep has taken on new importance, for it may very well be the lair of someone (or something) named Kalarel and a dire scheme to reopen the Shadowfell of old, spilling evil and undeath across the region once again. </p><p></p><p>In light of this new development, Lord Padraig thinks he should prepare the family heirloom for Brandis: an enchanted longsword named WOLFTOOTH. Lord Padraig will polish and sharpen the blade and have it ready for Brandis upon his return. </p><p></p><p>[It’s a +2 magic weapon]</p><p></p><p>The group gears up: Irann the half-elf warlock; Erevan the Eladrin Wizard; Helga the Dwarf Fighter; Brandis Padraig the Warlord, and…a new companion. They met him the night before, and this tall, stalwart, armor-clad PALADIN of KELEMVOR is ready to join the group in the battle against undeath, evil and corruption. He has been sent by the church in Neverwinter to investigate possible cult activity in this region.</p><p></p><p>[EDIT: Seems like the new 4e campaign book as demolished Neverwinter; so the paladin might be from elsewhere].</p><p></p><p>The paladin Kerric is quiet and prone to wearing dark armor that reflects his deity’s somber mood, but he seems amicable enough himself. The group does not really think that he is the spy, and the fact that he is a devout follower of Kelemvor, a God of Righteous Death diametrically opposed to a demonic lord of undeath, they couldn’t imagine a better ally.</p><p></p><p>They see peculiar scars on his forearms as Kerric attaches his greaves and gloves; a notch for each foe sent to the afterlife, the paladin tells them. One day, his body may very well be covered by these tiny scars, a woeful tapestry recounting his crusade against the demonic and the undead. </p><p></p><p>News has somehow already spread of their expedition to the Old Keep (which the citizens of Winterhaven do not even refer to as Shadowfell Keep; the name seems to invoke bad luck]. Still, as the group gathers outside of Wrafton’s Inn, they are seen off by a small contingent of familiar faces:</p><p></p><p>Lord Ernest Padraig and his wife Cynthia, who hugs and kisses Brandis (“Mom…stop, you’re embarrassing me!”); </p><p></p><p>Salvana Wrafton the busty and lusty innkeeper who offers them a cold ale upon their return; Elian the Old the Pig Farmer, who has his pig taken from him once again; the snooty Bairwain Wildarson, who furtively takes the PC’s aside and tells them that if they find any magic items in the ruins, they should tell him. He might be able to trade them with…friends of his at a place called Thunderspire, far to the north. No one has ever heard of a place called Thunderspire, and Bairwain does not elaborate. </p><p></p><p>[Although Erevam suspects it’s bound to a labyrinth]</p><p></p><p>Kelrella Sweetleaf the elf minstrel and her Halfling harpist see them off too, nodding quietly but saying nothing. The halfling Shuck plucks a few mournful strings. </p><p></p><p>Thair Coalstriker, gimp-leg dwarf smithy, pounds a hand into a meaty fist and asks them to bash some goblin noggins for him, all the ones he’ll never have the chance to bash himself. Yes, they can oblige him that. </p><p></p><p>Delphina Moongem is there, the flighty elf wanderer, and she cheerfully sticks flowers in their hair and behind their ears, wishing them luck on their picnic. </p><p></p><p>Valthrun the Prescient, portly resident Sage and Scholar, folds his hands and nods gravely to the group, conveying that the information they have shared is secret; the rest of Winterhaven must not know about the Shadowfell threat, not yet. It could cause panic and widespread paranoia. </p><p></p><p>Rond Kelfern, Corby, and other members of the Winterhaven Regulars nod their respects as the group departs the south gate (and the only gate) heading out into crisp morning dawn on the 4th of Mirtul, Year of the (?). Dunno know yet. </p><p></p><p>But one last person runs up to them as they’re leaving: the half-elf Ninaran.</p><p></p><p>“Where’s Ash?” she asks. “Where is he? WHERE?”</p><p></p><p>Maybe she knows already, but when the group tells her that he died at the hands of Irontooth, her face crumbles, replaced instantly by black anger. She storms off without another word. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: red">[GM Note: And although I forgot to mention it, Ash’s burial in the woods probably happened at dawn, in a quiet glade by a brook, as the elves would prefer it].</span></p><p></p><p>Black clouds roll across the horizon as the group heads north along the old road. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Broken cobblestones crack beneath their boots. Weeds and roots burrow through the stone, and thick vegetation encroaches on all sides. It is obvious that this route has not been used in a long, long time, and they’re traveling even further north than when they went to Dorsail Falls. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/cottage.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>After awhile they pass a dilapidated shack. Pausing, they peek in through the shattered door. The interior is mostly empty, covered by dirt and twigs and vines, but the paladin does notice a faint outline in the floor, possibly the door to a cellar. They check for traps, and finding none, finally pry the door open. A dank musty smell wafts forth, and they see the remains of an old wine cellar. The barrels have fermented to vinegar, but some of the wine bottles are intact. They take a dozen, and can probably sell or exchange them in Winterhaven. </p><p></p><p>Onward to the keep. An hour later after struggling across this cracked, broken road, they see the keep looming atop a distant knoll.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/keep.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 4564303, member: 31465"] [size=4]Adventure #5: Shadowfell Keep[/size] [B] PART ONE[/B] It is the day after the battle with the bugs in the field. The group has rested and recuperated, as they suspect dangerous times in the days to come and they’ll need their strength. According to what they gleaned from Irontooth at the waterfall lair, there is a spy working for someone named KALAREL. Furthermore, the kobolds and Kalarel were in allegiance with a demonic god of undeath, the malevolent Orcus, who does not even rank among the normal Faerunian pantheon. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/orcus.jpg[/img] Lord Padraig is informed of the Orcus threat and a spy in Winterhaven. The warlord is displeased by this news, and insists that this particular detail should be kept from the general populace. It seems that darker days may be in store for the denizens of Winterhaven. Now, mapping some old keep has taken on new importance, for it may very well be the lair of someone (or something) named Kalarel and a dire scheme to reopen the Shadowfell of old, spilling evil and undeath across the region once again. In light of this new development, Lord Padraig thinks he should prepare the family heirloom for Brandis: an enchanted longsword named WOLFTOOTH. Lord Padraig will polish and sharpen the blade and have it ready for Brandis upon his return. [It’s a +2 magic weapon] The group gears up: Irann the half-elf warlock; Erevan the Eladrin Wizard; Helga the Dwarf Fighter; Brandis Padraig the Warlord, and…a new companion. They met him the night before, and this tall, stalwart, armor-clad PALADIN of KELEMVOR is ready to join the group in the battle against undeath, evil and corruption. He has been sent by the church in Neverwinter to investigate possible cult activity in this region. [EDIT: Seems like the new 4e campaign book as demolished Neverwinter; so the paladin might be from elsewhere]. The paladin Kerric is quiet and prone to wearing dark armor that reflects his deity’s somber mood, but he seems amicable enough himself. The group does not really think that he is the spy, and the fact that he is a devout follower of Kelemvor, a God of Righteous Death diametrically opposed to a demonic lord of undeath, they couldn’t imagine a better ally. They see peculiar scars on his forearms as Kerric attaches his greaves and gloves; a notch for each foe sent to the afterlife, the paladin tells them. One day, his body may very well be covered by these tiny scars, a woeful tapestry recounting his crusade against the demonic and the undead. News has somehow already spread of their expedition to the Old Keep (which the citizens of Winterhaven do not even refer to as Shadowfell Keep; the name seems to invoke bad luck]. Still, as the group gathers outside of Wrafton’s Inn, they are seen off by a small contingent of familiar faces: Lord Ernest Padraig and his wife Cynthia, who hugs and kisses Brandis (“Mom…stop, you’re embarrassing me!”); Salvana Wrafton the busty and lusty innkeeper who offers them a cold ale upon their return; Elian the Old the Pig Farmer, who has his pig taken from him once again; the snooty Bairwain Wildarson, who furtively takes the PC’s aside and tells them that if they find any magic items in the ruins, they should tell him. He might be able to trade them with…friends of his at a place called Thunderspire, far to the north. No one has ever heard of a place called Thunderspire, and Bairwain does not elaborate. [Although Erevam suspects it’s bound to a labyrinth] Kelrella Sweetleaf the elf minstrel and her Halfling harpist see them off too, nodding quietly but saying nothing. The halfling Shuck plucks a few mournful strings. Thair Coalstriker, gimp-leg dwarf smithy, pounds a hand into a meaty fist and asks them to bash some goblin noggins for him, all the ones he’ll never have the chance to bash himself. Yes, they can oblige him that. Delphina Moongem is there, the flighty elf wanderer, and she cheerfully sticks flowers in their hair and behind their ears, wishing them luck on their picnic. Valthrun the Prescient, portly resident Sage and Scholar, folds his hands and nods gravely to the group, conveying that the information they have shared is secret; the rest of Winterhaven must not know about the Shadowfell threat, not yet. It could cause panic and widespread paranoia. Rond Kelfern, Corby, and other members of the Winterhaven Regulars nod their respects as the group departs the south gate (and the only gate) heading out into crisp morning dawn on the 4th of Mirtul, Year of the (?). Dunno know yet. But one last person runs up to them as they’re leaving: the half-elf Ninaran. “Where’s Ash?” she asks. “Where is he? WHERE?” Maybe she knows already, but when the group tells her that he died at the hands of Irontooth, her face crumbles, replaced instantly by black anger. She storms off without another word. [color=red][GM Note: And although I forgot to mention it, Ash’s burial in the woods probably happened at dawn, in a quiet glade by a brook, as the elves would prefer it].[/color] Black clouds roll across the horizon as the group heads north along the old road. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Broken cobblestones crack beneath their boots. Weeds and roots burrow through the stone, and thick vegetation encroaches on all sides. It is obvious that this route has not been used in a long, long time, and they’re traveling even further north than when they went to Dorsail Falls. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/cottage.jpg[/img] After awhile they pass a dilapidated shack. Pausing, they peek in through the shattered door. The interior is mostly empty, covered by dirt and twigs and vines, but the paladin does notice a faint outline in the floor, possibly the door to a cellar. They check for traps, and finding none, finally pry the door open. A dank musty smell wafts forth, and they see the remains of an old wine cellar. The barrels have fermented to vinegar, but some of the wine bottles are intact. They take a dozen, and can probably sell or exchange them in Winterhaven. Onward to the keep. An hour later after struggling across this cracked, broken road, they see the keep looming atop a distant knoll. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/keep/keep.jpg[/img] [/QUOTE]
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