Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Schmoe's Story
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Schmoe" data-source="post: 268644" data-attributes="member: 913"><p><em>(This story begins as the group is at a camp of the League of Freedom on the plains outside of Rushington. The camp is run by a stern ex-officer named Justin Grabelson. They fled here after the encounter at the secret temple of the Black Circle beneath the slums outside of Rushington, where Gerald Gorson of the Crimson Agents fled in possession of the History of the Shadowlands. He fled because the party turned on him, along with the Windslayers of Jreknar, when Naivoryn, along with the prince, Sasha, and several other League members, arrived and called for the party’s assistance. Now, with the Deputy Minister of the Crimson Agents fuming at their betrayal, Rushington was undoubtedly a deathtrap for the party. That’s why they were in the camp.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Little more than a day after arriving at the camp, a group of three diseased pilgrims approached, claiming that they had a message for the one known as Naivoryn. Although the patrol that first found them warned them away, they continued to the camp itself. When Naivoryn and the entire League contingent confronted them, the revealed themselves as fiends, creatures of ineffable evil. In a desperate battle, one of the fiends was slain and the others driven off, but the toll was great. Nearly a dozen of the guards lay dead or dying, and the party’s newfound companion, an unflappable grig rogue by the name of Brindlewyne, was dead.)</em></p><p></p><p> I had little time to mourn the death of Brindlewyne, my newfound friend. As I trudged through the blood-drenched snow towards the burial site, a League soldier hurried up to my side, explaining that Nayvorine wanted to see me (and my companions) immediately. I waved him off, exasperated and exhausted, laid Brindlewyne’s limp, delicate form alongside the other valiant warriors that gave their lives, collected my thoughts, and headed directly to Nayvorine’s tent.</p><p></p><p> It seemed I was the last to arrive – Demetra, Ovlark, Magnus, Breelock (a.k.a. The Prince) <em>(Breelock is the cover identity that Prince Edmund uses)</em>, Nayvorine, Pharos, Ash, and Crabby were all already there, calmly discussing the possible roads ahead. The League still had business in Rushington – a splinter League faction had started the revolution early, so weapons needed to be smuggled in to the still-loyal but ill-equipped League members still in Rushington. The splinter faction itself was also an issue: We knew who was spearheading it, but what were his motives? Why did he start early? In addition to the controversy surrounding the splinter faction, Breelock felt that if he could get into Rushington to talk to his uncle, Duke Belnor Blackthorne, he might be able to talk sense to him – to tell him what’s really going on.</p><p></p><p> At this point, I was a little confused. I thought that it was pretty obvious what was going on – the King was overtaxing the crap out of his subjects, gradually putting the Kingdom of Talnorak under martial rule, and sending anyone who objected to work (and die) in the mines. At this point, it was apparent that something else was going on.</p><p></p><p> Obviously aware of my puzzled expression, Nayvorine spoke: “Breelock, maybe we should tell them what’s really going on.” A wave of anxiety and betrayal washed over the lot of us as we realized that we had been played for fools once again. </p><p></p><p><em> (Actually, as I recall the exchange went something more like this:</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Prince Edmund/Breelock: “I think it’s time we tell them.”</em></p><p><em>Naivoryn, sweetly, with a pleasant smile: “Tell them what, my good prince?”</em></p><p><em>Prince Edmund/Breelock: “The truth.”</em></p><p><em>Naivoryn, sharply: “Oh. That.”)</em></p><p><em></em></p><p></p><p> Breelock responded to Nayvorine’s suggestion with a cold nod. Nayvorine explained that League operatives have discovered that the King himself is working to bring about the return of Durla Kryl and that all of the mining in the mountains is directly related to Durla Kryl’s return. While not really surprising news to us, it was disturbing all the same, confirming our suspicions that Durla Kryl’s cultists were far more organized than we initially suspected. </p><p></p><p> After reviewing all of the clues at hand, we decided to accompany The League to Rushington. Breelock would go talk to the Duke, other League operatives would smuggle the weapons in through the sewers, and Magnus, Demetra, Crabby, Ovlark, Pharos, Ash, and I would sneak in through the sewer system as well, hoping to investigate the address noted on a scrap of paper we found in the temple of Durla Kryl. </p><p></p><p> The two-day trek southeast to Rushington was bitterly cold, but relatively uneventful. We camped a few miles out of Rushington, then, under the cover of darkness, rode horses into the ramshackle sprawl of The Alley. Though we knew we wouldn’t see them again, we stabled the horses in one of the many abandoned buildings on the outskirts, found the nearest sewer grate, and descended into the now-familiar stench. </p><p></p><p> The stench may have been familiar, but there was no way in the Nine Hells I could ever get used to it. We splashed about in the darkness a bit, until Ash unshuttered his lantern, bathing the waste of Rushington’s degenerates in a warm, golden glow. It took a little while, but my knowledge of Rushington’s layout, tempered with a little of Demetra’s direction sense, landed us on the path towards the North Commons. </p><p></p><p> The journey through sewers was among the creepiest experiences I’ve had. Shaggy mosses hung overhead, hiding gods-know-what. The flickering light from the lantern danced off of the walls and glistened off of the river of effluvia, creating an ever-changing mass of shadows at the edge of our vision. Suddenly, I saw one of the moss-clumps move, and, sure enough, several of them moved across the ceiling at lightning speed and down the walls towards us. </p><p></p><p> The things were man-sized bipedal masses of glistening, sinewy, jet-black flesh with arms fully twice the length of their torsos. As they descended, their whip-like arms lashed out at us, attempting to draw us in and squeeze the life out of us. Though the things moved with incredible speed, Magnus, Pharos, Demetra, and I acted quickly, and, under a flurry of steel and spells, managed to dispatch the full half-dozen before any of them could strangle the life from us. We took a moment to collect ourselves, tended our minor wounds, and trudged on.</p><p></p><p> As we continued, we frequently felt an enormous presence just outside of our lantern’s light. Occasionally a wave of sewage would spill up onto the walkway – sometimes we’d see something slithering just beneath the surface of the waste. Whatever it was, it was there, and when we came to the next junction room, we decided that now was as good a time as any to head up to the surface. Fortunately, I had kept us on track, and we emerged but a couple of blocks away from our destination. We were greeted by starlight and the pungent odor of burning wood, a welcome change from the stench of the sewers, but a melancholy indication of things to come. After shooing off a couple of overly curious beggar children, we trudged through the snow-covered streets towards Thieves’ Market.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Schmoe, post: 268644, member: 913"] [I](This story begins as the group is at a camp of the League of Freedom on the plains outside of Rushington. The camp is run by a stern ex-officer named Justin Grabelson. They fled here after the encounter at the secret temple of the Black Circle beneath the slums outside of Rushington, where Gerald Gorson of the Crimson Agents fled in possession of the History of the Shadowlands. He fled because the party turned on him, along with the Windslayers of Jreknar, when Naivoryn, along with the prince, Sasha, and several other League members, arrived and called for the party’s assistance. Now, with the Deputy Minister of the Crimson Agents fuming at their betrayal, Rushington was undoubtedly a deathtrap for the party. That’s why they were in the camp. Little more than a day after arriving at the camp, a group of three diseased pilgrims approached, claiming that they had a message for the one known as Naivoryn. Although the patrol that first found them warned them away, they continued to the camp itself. When Naivoryn and the entire League contingent confronted them, the revealed themselves as fiends, creatures of ineffable evil. In a desperate battle, one of the fiends was slain and the others driven off, but the toll was great. Nearly a dozen of the guards lay dead or dying, and the party’s newfound companion, an unflappable grig rogue by the name of Brindlewyne, was dead.)[/I] I had little time to mourn the death of Brindlewyne, my newfound friend. As I trudged through the blood-drenched snow towards the burial site, a League soldier hurried up to my side, explaining that Nayvorine wanted to see me (and my companions) immediately. I waved him off, exasperated and exhausted, laid Brindlewyne’s limp, delicate form alongside the other valiant warriors that gave their lives, collected my thoughts, and headed directly to Nayvorine’s tent. It seemed I was the last to arrive – Demetra, Ovlark, Magnus, Breelock (a.k.a. The Prince) [I](Breelock is the cover identity that Prince Edmund uses)[/I], Nayvorine, Pharos, Ash, and Crabby were all already there, calmly discussing the possible roads ahead. The League still had business in Rushington – a splinter League faction had started the revolution early, so weapons needed to be smuggled in to the still-loyal but ill-equipped League members still in Rushington. The splinter faction itself was also an issue: We knew who was spearheading it, but what were his motives? Why did he start early? In addition to the controversy surrounding the splinter faction, Breelock felt that if he could get into Rushington to talk to his uncle, Duke Belnor Blackthorne, he might be able to talk sense to him – to tell him what’s really going on. At this point, I was a little confused. I thought that it was pretty obvious what was going on – the King was overtaxing the crap out of his subjects, gradually putting the Kingdom of Talnorak under martial rule, and sending anyone who objected to work (and die) in the mines. At this point, it was apparent that something else was going on. Obviously aware of my puzzled expression, Nayvorine spoke: “Breelock, maybe we should tell them what’s really going on.” A wave of anxiety and betrayal washed over the lot of us as we realized that we had been played for fools once again. [I] (Actually, as I recall the exchange went something more like this: Prince Edmund/Breelock: “I think it’s time we tell them.” Naivoryn, sweetly, with a pleasant smile: “Tell them what, my good prince?” Prince Edmund/Breelock: “The truth.” Naivoryn, sharply: “Oh. That.”) [/I] Breelock responded to Nayvorine’s suggestion with a cold nod. Nayvorine explained that League operatives have discovered that the King himself is working to bring about the return of Durla Kryl and that all of the mining in the mountains is directly related to Durla Kryl’s return. While not really surprising news to us, it was disturbing all the same, confirming our suspicions that Durla Kryl’s cultists were far more organized than we initially suspected. After reviewing all of the clues at hand, we decided to accompany The League to Rushington. Breelock would go talk to the Duke, other League operatives would smuggle the weapons in through the sewers, and Magnus, Demetra, Crabby, Ovlark, Pharos, Ash, and I would sneak in through the sewer system as well, hoping to investigate the address noted on a scrap of paper we found in the temple of Durla Kryl. The two-day trek southeast to Rushington was bitterly cold, but relatively uneventful. We camped a few miles out of Rushington, then, under the cover of darkness, rode horses into the ramshackle sprawl of The Alley. Though we knew we wouldn’t see them again, we stabled the horses in one of the many abandoned buildings on the outskirts, found the nearest sewer grate, and descended into the now-familiar stench. The stench may have been familiar, but there was no way in the Nine Hells I could ever get used to it. We splashed about in the darkness a bit, until Ash unshuttered his lantern, bathing the waste of Rushington’s degenerates in a warm, golden glow. It took a little while, but my knowledge of Rushington’s layout, tempered with a little of Demetra’s direction sense, landed us on the path towards the North Commons. The journey through sewers was among the creepiest experiences I’ve had. Shaggy mosses hung overhead, hiding gods-know-what. The flickering light from the lantern danced off of the walls and glistened off of the river of effluvia, creating an ever-changing mass of shadows at the edge of our vision. Suddenly, I saw one of the moss-clumps move, and, sure enough, several of them moved across the ceiling at lightning speed and down the walls towards us. The things were man-sized bipedal masses of glistening, sinewy, jet-black flesh with arms fully twice the length of their torsos. As they descended, their whip-like arms lashed out at us, attempting to draw us in and squeeze the life out of us. Though the things moved with incredible speed, Magnus, Pharos, Demetra, and I acted quickly, and, under a flurry of steel and spells, managed to dispatch the full half-dozen before any of them could strangle the life from us. We took a moment to collect ourselves, tended our minor wounds, and trudged on. As we continued, we frequently felt an enormous presence just outside of our lantern’s light. Occasionally a wave of sewage would spill up onto the walkway – sometimes we’d see something slithering just beneath the surface of the waste. Whatever it was, it was there, and when we came to the next junction room, we decided that now was as good a time as any to head up to the surface. Fortunately, I had kept us on track, and we emerged but a couple of blocks away from our destination. We were greeted by starlight and the pungent odor of burning wood, a welcome change from the stench of the sewers, but a melancholy indication of things to come. After shooing off a couple of overly curious beggar children, we trudged through the snow-covered streets towards Thieves’ Market. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Schmoe's Story
Top