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ShortQuests -- Pocket Sized Adventures! An all-new collection of digest-sized D&D adventures designed for 1-2 game sessions.

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Telperion" data-source="post: 1352769" data-attributes="member: 15711">And here are some more...Roald Hillstride, Neutral Evil, Ranger 6 / Fighter 4.Roald was always restless as a child. As the son of a poor merchant this never bothered his father or mother. The little family spent most of their time travelling along the smaller roads of Calastia and it’s neighboring countries. Food was always plentiful, if not fancy and so Roald’s family made a fairly good life of it. They were the in the business of selling whatever was needed by the common man, and so their two wagons were usually laid with the most interesting assortment of wares. Nails, fabrics and tools to small books, bits of jewelry and the occasional material component for a wizard. Life was easy and it kept moving along, which suited Roald just fine. It was obvious to everyone who met Roald that he had been born in a wagon and would die in a wagon. In his youth Roald thought he would become the master merchant his father had always wanted to be: selling luxury items to nobility and giving discounts to the common man for common wares. But such would not be his lot in life… As Roald reached the age of 9 the family fell upon hard times. House Asuras, a continent-spanning merchant family, brought its caravans once more to Calastia. So huge was their wagon train that to young Roald it seemed to span from one horizon to the other. And with the caravans came such strange and worldly things that the boy was nearly astonished out of his mind. These were no mere master merchants, but princes among men! They traveled where they willed and sold their wares to such crowds, as young Roald had never seen. But there was a darker side to this business as well. Because there were so many customers the Asuras caravans could offer better quality merchandize at the same price as, say, Roald’s family. And so the family’s trade came to a dead stop. They fled from the path of House Asuras, but so did everyone else, and soon the small market that the family lived on was drying up. They needed to do something fast before they would starve. As months went by, and House Asuras ripped the rewards of Calastia, the parents came to look at each other more and more often in a certain way. Their son must not starve, he was a bright and intelligent lad with many a useful skill. And so on a sunny that looked fine and warm they petitioned House Asuras for a place in their caravan for Roald. The master of the caravan looked the boy over and asked him several questions, to most of which Roald had a straight answer and he was able to answer to the rest of them with a few moments thinking. The master of the caravan grunted his approval and threw a small pouch of gold to the parents. And so Roald became property of House Asuras. After something like 10 years had passed Roald was still with the caravan. The work was hard, the pay was above average and there were plenty of women to bed for some coin. Life wasn’t all that bad, but still something kept nagging at Roald. In his youth he had seen his father work very hard at becoming something other than a poor merchant he had been for all his life. It was obvious that the old fool had lost sight of reality. No one earned money by being the nice guy who gave to those in need. There was little to be gained by fairness or honesty. His own parents had sold him into slavery to gain an edge on their competitors! If that wasn’t selfish then by Chardun Roald didn’t know what was! For the past years Roald had also been training very hard, and he was now clearly one of the best mercenaries in the caravan. He did most of the dirty and hard work around and still pulled his share of guard duty, even though the money he gained this way wasn’t that much better. Still, it was something to keep his mind on during the many hours when there was nothing else to do but to wonder at the stupidity of his parents. Well, they were probably dead by now, and good riddance to them! Roald was already living far better than they ever had, so there was little reason to miss them. Its not like they ever really gave anything to him. Just abandoned when they no longer saw any other gain in him other than some money. But how wrong they were. He would leave this wretched caravan soon and begin his own company of mercenaries. He didn’t feel like parting with his own gold just to buy his freedom. He had always been a free man in his mind, and would give nothing to those who had trained, fed and clothed since the age of 10. Had he not given service in return for those things? Such work that none would do. But no more, he would put an end to his life of mediocrity. And so, on a moonless night, below heavy clouds and rain: Roald, son of a nameless merchant of meager talents and property of House Asuras, ran away. House Asuras has moved on to other parts of the continent since then, and Roald has been looking for a suitable crew to join. He has been doing some occasional caravan duty, but for the most part he does heavier mercenary duty with whichever lord or lady chooses to employ him this month. Still, in his mind he still dreams of a future of wealth and power. During the last month he heard of a special group of mercenaries and joined with them. Maybe this is the crew he has been looking for, so that he could start his rise to greatness?Roald isn’t one for rules or nice play. He fights to win, conquer and kill. He believes, correctly for the most part, that he is among the best there is among mercenaries. Leadership, wealth and personal power are the goals he thrives for. Everything else is secondary, but he isn’t above using others to gain what he wants, as long as they serve their cause.  William Wayfarer, Chaotic Neutral, Fighter 1 / Sorcerer 6 / Eldritch Knight 3.William’s childhood was nothing special really. He lived in a moderately large Calastian city, and had most of the things he wanted. His parents were in the service of the government. They were local bureaucrats, and did their jobs well. While not exactly wealthy the family was better of than most, and to the poor they really did look wealthy. So William grew in a pleasant atmosphere with a tutor to teach him things, friends to play with and parents to see every now and then. It wasn’t until later that the problems would start. It would, of course, be blamed upon the tutor, and he isn’t without fault. When William reached his 12th birthday he requested a rather old book from his parents as a present. They were both somewhat surprised at this since their son hadn’t shown an overly enthusiastic side towards literature or study until then. The thing was that young William had been learning about the great battle-mages of Calastia from his tutor, and had decided to become one! He would play with his friends, wielding a wooden stick for a sword in one hand and casting “fireballs” among their “enemies” with his other hand. And since everyone knew that wizards gained their power from leafing trough big and dusty looking books then it was only reasonable to assume that that was the way to go about becoming a real battle-mage.At first William set about becoming an adequate fighter, so he would actually know some swordplay when he became a wizard. So it came as no surprise at all to the parents to hear their son requesting lessons from the local soldiers. After a while it also became obvious that this wasn’t simply some childish thing that would blow over, and so the parents sent their son into a proper school to learn about fighting and war. But there was also something else that William never left behind, although his tutor was the only one to notice this. The old looking book went with him, and so he started to learn about the basics of arcane sorcery at night while wielding a sword during the day. This was all very intriguing and exciting to the youth. But soon the first tome was read, and he wanted more. Well, there was nothing more to it than write a letter to his parents, and request his old tutor to select a suitable book for him to continue on. And so the months went on. His teachers were happy enough with William’s swordplay and other skills, but they did note how sleepy the boy was during mornings. It was due to this that a certain teacher paid him a surprise visit during one evening, and found him deeply engrossed in a book. This wasn’t exactly forbidden, but it was certainly unusual for someone so young. But what really made the old man’s eyes open were the obviously arcane markings upon the cover of the book! From that moment on the boy was no longer the province of the military school. He would be transferred to school of wizards, and there was nothing to it. This would be the first real surprise William’s parents would experience. The next one wouldn’t be far behind. And so it was that William’s plans were progressing as he hoped. He now had enough military training to swing a sword with some confidence. And now he would be trained as a wizard! His rise to glory and power was certain! With a hunger never seen in the youth he fell upon stacks of books and begun to devour them. He engaged his new teachers in endless discussions on the nature of magic, and was thought to be a very smart youth indeed. This truly astonished his parents’, since they had always thought that their boy would become an officer in the Black Dragon armies, and that would be the end of it. A very respectable and lucrative future of course, but somehow both parents had always thought their son somewhat slow of wit and understanding. And now, all of a sudden, this was no longer the case. For 5 long years William studied in the wizard academy, and for every birthday he would receive a new book from his parents, carefully selected by his old tutor. What no one but the old tutor knew was that those books contained treatises on alternative forms of thought for both arcane sorcery and history itself. In other words these were books held by someone who wanted the youth to read material, which his teachers would find blasphemous at the least, and then delivered to the youth via the old tutor. For what purpose? Well…that is another story…And now would come the third shock for William’s parents. As William was nearing the end of his education for a wizard there were others in the academy that felt envy towards the young man. These same boys whispered that there could be something of special interest to a young serving made in William’s chamber upon a certain night when his “friends” knew he would be out and about. So the maid made her way to the chamber and looked into the room’s wardrobe. Instead of finding something to giggle and laugh about with the other maids the young girl nearly fainted as she gazed upon a pile of books. Books, which had all sorts of evil and dangerous looking marks upon them. They certainly looked nothing like those nice, if somewhat eerie feeling, books at the library she dusted every now and then. These books were…sinister…The next moment William burst into the chamber with a very serious look upon his face. He had placed a spell upon his wardrobe for just this purpose. With a blast of arcane magic the snoopy girl was no more, but then William realized what he had done. Too late saw the evil that his magic had caused, and the anger that had clouded his judgement. Certainly the maid had had no business going trough his personal things, but that was no reason to kill her. The deed was somehow starting to clutch at his throat and there was bile rising up. Fighting sudden nausea he stumbled to the wardrobe and took his precious books. He had read most of them anyway, but there was always much value hidden in books that wasn’t revealed on the first reading. And so he bundled up his sword, books and few other possessions and fled into the night: never to return to the light of law and surrendering his long dreams of becoming a Calastian battle-mage. For long months William traveled trough the lands of Calastia, and its neighbors. There was much to see, but he spent most of his time in deep brooding. The murder of the maid tormented him to no end, but at the same time there was something right about leaving. For the books he now carried suggested that he had never really belonged to that academy of wizards in the first place. There was something much better waiting for him somewhere out here. Freedom would be his guide, and the books would be his tutors. But he would need money, and that meant work. Work was hard to come by if you had nothing to show as credence. But a mercenary could show his skills easily enough! So it didn’t really take all that long for William to find his place among fighting men again. The sort who didn’t ask too many questions, and certainly appreciated his abilities once William realized what kind of an advantage his wizard training gained him. And so, for now at least, William has become a warrior-wizard for hire: the more intriguing the job the better, magical wise anyway.William is a free spirit. He still believes in an order of things, but that doesn’t necessarily correspond to that of any country or lord. He fights with a will, and is once again increasing in both arcane might and swordplay. Since leaving the academy he has also began to find all sorts of little bits from his precious books he carries around. Bits that suggest that there could still be others out there in the world that thinks like him. That all is not like it seems: that all is not as nice and simple as the teachings of the wizard academies.  Jadow Red-Gem, Lawful Evil, Wizard 3 / Cleric 3 / Mystic Theurge 4Jadow was raised by a sorcerer in a small village at the edge of Calastia. It still lies there, but is most likely forgotten by the rest of the world. The place in itself has no significance to this story either. What is important is the sorcerer who protected the village from all sorts of ravages and calamities that would have wiped it out in the course of a few years if not for the arcane arts of the woman holding power there. She was an arrogant woman, and plainly looked forward to teaching her daughter everything there was to know about witchcraft and cowing people into thinking her invincible and necessary for the future of the village’s fine being. One can only think about the disappointment the witch must have felt when she finally had an heir to her wonderful powers. And the child was a boy! Ah, the god’s must have had a good laugh on that one. Well, there was nothing to it, but to train the little wretch and hope he would amount to something useful. And the witch wasn’t too old to have another child, not yet anyhow. And so while she hunted for a proper man to give her a daughter the boy was held in awe by the villagers and secluded from everything. Even his mother’s, company for the most part, since she was too busy finding more suitable manly material. A few years went by, and the witch thought her son a nice amount of sorcery, or wizardry as the boy thought of it. He didn’t so much learn from the witch as read trough all sorts of dusty old books, which the villagers had given to the witch as tribute along the years. And some of them actually contained some very interesting things about wizardry, and spell casting. Years went on, and the witch was still without a suitable man. She was growing older, and bitterer by the year. She had developed the habit of punishing her for her own failings a long time ago, so that these days the young man was usually constantly bruised and battered. He wasn’t even a strong youth, and so had little chance of facing up his mother. Not that that wouldn’t have been an unthinkable thing to do anyhow. But then something changed. A border lord of Calastia happened to ride by with a retinue of guards, and spotted the village. He had, basically, always known that there was some insignificant community at the edge of his demesne, but had never really bothered look upon it. He had been hunting, and that had brought him further away from home than he had intended. Seeing the village he ordered his soldiers to form up and rode forth. Soon enough the witch noticed the soldiers and began to work her craft against them. Monsters from stories jumped out of nowhere and lightning forked from her fingers to strike at the soldiers. Soon enough they were in total rout, and the noble was cursing enough to burst. The witch smiled a crooked smile and returned to her hut, at the edge of the village. The boy, though, had had an idea that needed thinking upon. He had grown to hate the old witch who tormented the villagers and her own son for something they had no control over what so ever. So the boy began to lay plans to get rid of her. It would seem that he would have to submit the village to this strange looking lord to do so, but that is something he could work around in the coming years. He was fighting for his very survival, and the survival of his vassals – as he the villagers – was also paramount. After all, he did appreciate a few of them quite a lot, and his life would be a whole lot emptier without them. And so plans where laid and treachery conceived. The noble did indeed return, and this time there were a great deal many more soldiers. Quite a few more than there were villagers. And there was someone else with the noble as well. A man dressed in scary looking armor, with a very wicked looking scepter in his hand. Once again the witch prepared to cast her spells to rid her domain of these annoying outsiders. But this time something went wrong! The summoned monstrosities never materialized as the armored upon the fine horse shouted strange words into the wind at the same time Jadow’s mother began chanting her spells of summoning. The air crackled with the released energies and then…nothing! The soldiers surged forward and the old witch stood around bewildered. Not understanding what was happening. And that is when Jadow saw his chance. Somehow he had to show loyalty to this invader, so he would be spared from the soldier’s swords. And so he walked calmly towards his mother and began to cast a spell. The witch sensed the spell casting and turned around. Seeing only the bony figure of her own son she turned around and screamed her frustration at the youth, like she had done countless times before. But as the spell was completed a fiery ball of suddenly sprang from Jadow’s hands and struck the witch full in the chest. For an instant there was a hideous scream…and then silence…A few seconds later the soldiers reached the young man standing over the form of a smoldering corpse, and struck him down. Consciousness fled young Jadow.Much later Jadow woke to find the noble, who had brought the small army, standing over his bound figure. The armored man with the frightening presence was there as well, but he didn’t seem so interested in the young man. Or so it seemed at the time. The young man and the noble spoke for a while and an understanding of sorts was formed between them. The young man would be trained anew and then brought back to this village to rule in the name of the local lord. The lord would return once a year to see that no new witch-king rose from this small village, and that everything was in order. And the collect tribute, which wasn’t all that new of a thing, but now the young man was the one who had to collect it for someone was else besides his dead mother. For the moment the armored man, called a cleric of Chardun, would remain behind with a detachment of soldiers to secure the village. Four years went by, as the young man became a student at a large city. He learned countless things there and was given to the priests of Chardun for further training. It didn’t take long for him to become a worshipper of Chardun. The Slavers ideals and thoughts meshed well with Jadow’s own: power, control, might and strength of mind. But soon it also became obvious that this young man was somehow different from the other pupils at the church of Chardun. For one he was already a fairly capable wizard, and he had by no means stopped using this art when he came to the city. Instead he had begun to create a new order inside himself, and to forge a greater power with both arcane and divine powers at his beg and call. Soon the other students, as well as the senior clerics of the church, became weary of him. It was obvious that he would soon be expelled from the church so Jadow chose to take his leave while he could do. He returned to his village of birth, but found it burned to the ground. He approached the noble, and was informed that a neighboring noble had decided to rid the land of a nuisance. Nothing out of the normal, and of course the noble was very sorrowful to have lost those loyal subjects of Jadow’s village. In a rage Jadow called down Chardun’s wrath upon this insolent noble that had no sense of the real world outside of his comfortable office. As he left the noble was a great deal more white and understanding of Jadow’s reasons of being upset. But what was done couldn’t be undone. Not with the powers that Jadow controlled at the moment, and most likely not even in the future. So what was he to do? The church feared him up to a certain point, but they also found utilizing his rare gifts to their benefit a very effective and good notion. Still, becoming the lapdog of someone who didn’t really understand or respect him wasn’t Jadow’s idea of a good life. There had to be something else out there. Something that would give him a chance to better himself, allow both of his sides of his mystic nature to grow without contention. In short he needed to become more independent, and yet retain contact to those who he wanted to deal with. In the end the solution was simple: magic was a very respectable power in the hands of a mercenary, and to bring the might of a god as well would be a great thing indeed. So it was that Jadow retired to the life of a wandering mercenary, for the time being. Once he has gathered enough power he will go back to that soft noble and rip his still-beating heart from his chest. And eat it with delight. And then a new rule of power and wisdom would reign over that particular part of Calastia. But until then…this mercenary work will have to do…The first and last thing about Jadow to understand is his magic. Whether arcane or divine it is the thing that drives him forward and at the same time consumes him from within. It is his life force and his death, most likely in a very messy way. Jadow is all about using the two most powerful sides of magic at the same time and combining them into unseen ways of devastating effect.</blockquote>

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