(5.24 PBP) Vault of the Dracolich (IC) Redux

[FitzTheRuke]

Vault of the Dracolich
Discussion Thread
Rogues' Gallery

Imani's Tower
~1 pm on 4 Tarsakh, 1483DR

Spring came to the village of Hap in Battledale. In spite of the rain, still flecked with the occasional snowflake, Adventurers began to arrive, responding to a general summons, sent by broadsheet, town criers, bards, and rumourmongers, from lands both far and near. They climbed Haptooth Hill to the Wizard's Tower, once owned by a Red Wizard of Thay, but was now home to a Turmishan wizard named Imani, who had penned the call to adventure.

One by one, they entered the wizard’s wide, stone tower, with a well-kept garden, and found that others had also answered the call. Some were old acquaintances, while others met here for the first time, but all were reasonably seasoned. All had their own personal reasons for responding to Imani's summons.

The receiving room was small, but lavishly decorated, with tapestries, a fine rug, and comfortable-looking chairs. Many gathered at a large table against the far wall, covered in fruit, meat, cheese, and bread. A servant stood nearby with wine, beer, or water gathered from fresh mountain run-off. To the servant's left, an iron staircase spiraled upwards and out of sight through a hole in the vaulted ceiling. A female halfling in comfortable clothes sat on the stairs, and she watched as more adventurers arrived with a bemused expression on her face.

A large man in white-and-grey furs entered, and he lumbered over to sit on an oak bench next to the fireplace. He stretched and began to remove a prosthetic leg. It had been hidden under his trouser leg, which he rolled up and began to rub a foul-smelling ointment on his stump.

For the moment, there was no sign of the Wizard.

GM: Feel free to introduce yourselves with a description.

 

[Kobold Stew]

"Urgan Magall," the orc introduces himself, announcing his name with no expectation that it will be recognized. At first glance he knows none of those that are there, but has hopes that someone he has come across before will also have answered the call. He tries not to smile among strangers, because that reveals his tusks and that can be threatening to some. He is dressed as a servant, with ordinary travelling clothes and only a whittling knife on his hip. His rough hands show that they are familiar with toil. "I have come for the summons, as I expect we all have."

Beside him pads a hyena, with no leash, and Urgan absentmindedly scritches its neck, until it purrs. "And this is Scamp. Please be assured, he will not bite." He quickly corrects himself, adding, "Any of you." Urgan rubs Scamp's head, and who responds by nosing into Urgan's thigh, before it curls up on the floor near the table, hoping for some dropped cheese. The orc leans his quarterstaff against the wall, and it is the only outward indication that he might be an adventurer, perhaps one of the monks of the Forgotten Plateau. The staff itself is elaborately carved with an interlocking knot pattern, as if someone has tried to make the wood appear as if it were several cords twisted together.

Looking around, Urgan feels older than many of the others in the room. He's solid, and once was quite fit, and his bald head makes him look more approachable. He washed his hands after work today, sure, but he'd been at the forge this week and the soot had left an outline of the leather apron he had worn before taking his leave. His master had let him go -- Urgan was a dependable worker, and hadn't asked for vacation time at all over the past several months -- and working as an assistant was never going to content the craftsman fully. And so he'd been let go by the bastion's foreman, confident that Urgan would return to his place (a place he didn't fully deserve, in the foreman's eyes) one his dream of participating in this little quest, whatever it was, was squashed.

Approaching the table, Urgan grabs a piece of bread and places some cheese on top, foregoing the butter and mustard that he sees. He tears a bit and tosses it to Scamp before taking a bite, and he approaches the man with the leg. Well, without the leg he thinks to himself, and for the first time a small tusk is visible.

"That looks uncomfortable," the Orc offers. "I'll be the socket rubs particularly when you climb up hills...." He's about to continue the conversation when he thinks he sees a familiar face.

 

[FitzTheRuke]

One of the few people in the room who was as old, or older than Urgan, the one-legged man smiled, with wrinkles forming on the leathery skin around his dark eyes. "That it does, that it does," he replied as the Orc looked around at the others, spotting someone he knew, "My adventuring days are past me. But Imani has asked me to join you in a supportive role. Loklafd is my name. I'm a Reghedman of the Seal Tribe."

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

Shamal had followed the threads of fate and been away from the sands of his home for two seasons, and during this time had learned to channel the powers of the djinn and effectively fight with two shamshirs- the curved blades that were the traditional weapons of the Faishan. During his wanderings across the lands, he happened upon a small town wherein he heard a town crier's message about a need for adventurers, and an upcoming meet at a wizard's tower a fortnight's journey away. When Shamal heard the summons, it meant nothing to him. But the next morning, he felt drawn to journey to the tower, as if the summons was an hourglass and he was but a grain.

Shamal entered the tower and removed the layers of cloth surrounding his head and face, and his mouth softened into an easy smile when he saw the lavish reception that the wizard Imani had prepared for his guests. Shamal knew nothing of the wizard, but had a keen appreciation for the wizard's hospitality. He quickly grabbed some fruit and cheese, and washed it down with water, as he watched the interactions between Urgan and Loklafd.

Realizing he was a stranger here, and sensing that Urgan felt uncomfortable, Shamal walked up to Urgan and Loklafd. A paradise without people is not worth stepping foot in, my friends. I am Shamal, and I am also here to learn of what cause we will be pledging our swords to.

Shamal paused, and drank some more water. But until our host presents himself that we might thank him, perhaps it is best that we enjoy ourselves?

With that, Shamal brought out a small hand drum (mirwas) and began rhythmically tapping on it, as he sang the story of how Rabb al-Wahah brought the monsoons.

 

[TaranTheWanderer]

Spoiler: Merrick- Mini-sheet

Merrick Thorburn Race: Human	HP: 50/50 AC: 16/18(with shield)	Buffs:
Rage: 3/3	Inner Healing:4/4	Speed:30
Spoiler: Stats(saves) STR: 16+3(+5) DEX: 13+1(+1) CON: 16+3(+5) INT: 8-1(+-1) WIS: 10+0(+0) CHA:11 +0(+0)	Spoiler: Skills Athletics+5 Intimidate: 2/5 Perception: 0/3 Persuasion 2 Stealth: 3/5 Survival: 2/5	Spoiler: Spells Daily: Alarm 1/1 At will Thaumaturgy Message

It had been many years since the day the Caller's Temple had been destroyed. He'd been young then, a simple caravan guard delivering supplies and, in the wrong place - or perhaps, exactly where Fate had placed him.

The Cult of the Dragon had attacked that day, the White Dragon, Kaerfranax, reigning death down from above. He'd tried his best to help the monks flee but was caught in the tremendous power that burst forth when the cultists destroyed the temple sanctuary. A reservoir of ancient power had been destroyed by the cult and Merrick, standing too close became a new vessel. The backlash had killed many Cultists and had injured the Dragon so seriously that it had to flee.

The power now sat bubbling inside of Merrick . For a year he could not even utter a single word, lest it burst out of him in destructive power. He stayed with the monks as they taught him to control it.

The Cult of the Dragon never forgot his role in their failure and, more than once over the years, did the Cult sought revenge but Merrick had learned to contain and control the power he’d acquired and each attempt to take his life had failed. It only made sense to answer the Wizard’s call. He couldn’t resist an opportunity to be a thorn in the Dragon Cult’s side.

***

You could hear the warrior before he opened the door, as he hummed a gentle tune. He knocked politely before opening the door and poking his head in,

“Am I in the right place?”

His voice was gentle and quiet which did not seem to match his large, imposing physique.

“Oh, hi Urgan. “He smiled and waived at the orc, “This must be the place.”

He leaned his Glaive against the outside wall and entered, ducking his head slightly as he entered.

“Hi folks, I’m Merrick.”

He took the time to shake each person’s hand and learn their names.

 

[Kobold Stew]

Urgan is in conversation with Loklafd, and he wonders if there's a way the prosthetic could be improved for the old soldier. "Shouldn't take more than a few days," he suggests, "if you want to see what can be done," he offers. It's then that the drumming starts, and Scamp lifts his head to see where the noise is coming from, before nestling down again in apparent disinterest. When Merrick comes by, he shook the man's hands after he had greeted the northerner, Loklafd. "It's been a while," Urgan says to the large man, "Have you heard what this is about? I've never met Imani, but we, uh, we know some people in common." Suddenly Urgan is self conscious that he should have dressed for this meeting. He has no heart for small talk, and these introductions.

He does notice the halfling sitting on the staircase, to whom no one has spoken yet, and following a small gesture, a potted plant appears next to her, which with a squeaky voice appears to say "Should I leaf you alone?" The minor illusion is a corny joke, but it might make her smile and there's no real likelihood it will be attributed to him.

 

[Leatherhead]

Copper is lean for a Goliath. And while a bit young, is still noticeably bigger than most humans and orcs. Loose clothes and refurbished weapons give the impression of someone, who if not outright poor, lives a life that could be generously described as 'frugal'.

Nobody is quite sure how such a large man arrived unnoticed to the gathering, but everyone couldn't help but take notice of his appetite (and apparent lack of table manners). After consuming a quite sloppy sandwich crafted out of 7 layers of meat and cheese topped with a slice of melon, the goliath noisily chugged down two tankards of beer.

"Well, at the very least, we know Imani is a generous host. Bodes well for the purse." He quips before brushing off some crumbs and taking Merrick's offer of a handshake. "Copper, but don't mistake me for being two-bit!"

 

[FitzTheRuke]

The halfling laughed loud and high-pitched enough for everyone to hear it. For a brief moment, Copper thought she'd overheard his self-deprecating joke and had taken it to be funnier than he'd intended, but a glance her way showed that she was bemused with something else - a plant on the spiral staircase. She looked around, trying to guess who'd conjured it, but she couldn't be sure.

 

[VLAD the Destroyer]

It had been many years since Darius had been to Hap. He had grown up in the Dales, though something inside him had always wanted him to move. He had listened to that voice in his head shortly after his parents disappeared. That was some fifteen years ago. He was now a grown man and that voice urged him back to the land of his birth.

Darius had barely stepped foot into the Dales when he heard of the call from the wizard Imani. Perhaps this was the itch that had brought him back home after so long. He figured he could check it out and perhaps see some old friends while he was at it. Looking at the not so small cluster of people around the old wizards tower, Darius sighed. It seemed that many had the same idea. He was here he may as well hear out the proposal.

Darius slipped into the small room and found a comfortable seat in a corner. Any who notice him see a very unassuming man. He is dressed in dusty traveling clothes. He pulls back the hood of his cloak as he sits and runs his hands through his shoulder length red hair. he looks around the room for a moment and then settles back to wait for the wizard to make their appearance. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait long and that not many more adventures would show up. To many people always made his head hurt.

OOC: If any one wants to know Darius I am fine with that.

 

[TaranTheWanderer]

Spoiler: Merrick- Mini-sheet

Merrick Thorburn Race: Human	HP: 50/50 AC: 16/18(with shield)	Buffs:
Rage: 3/3	Inner Healing:4/4	Speed:30
Spoiler: Stats(saves) STR: 16+3(+5) DEX: 13+1(+1) CON: 16+3(+5) INT: 8-1(+-1) WIS: 10+0(+0) CHA:11 +0(+0)	Spoiler: Skills Athletics+5 Intimidate: 2/5 Perception: 0/3 Persuasion 2 Stealth: 3/5 Survival: 2/5	Spoiler: Spells Daily: Alarm 1/1 At will Thaumaturgy Message

---

"Well, at the very least, we know Imani is a generous host. Bodes well for the purse." He quips before brushing off some crumbs and taking Merrick's offer of a handshake. "Copper, but don't mistake me for being two-bit!"

Merrick smiles at the joke amicably but it's the generosity comment that really gets his attention.

"I suppose I should find some food too, before it's all gone."

While his clothes and breast plate look well kept and, perhaps, newly bought, his backpack looks woefully unburdened. His stomach growls.

"Excuse me Copper" his voice barely cuts through the din of the room.

He turns to go fill a plate and, returning to find a seat, becomes transfixed by Shamal's tune and, instead stands there, listening as he absent-mindedly stuffs food in his mouth.