JollyDoc
Explorer
Because you demanded it, loyal readers! Here begins the next chapter in our epic campaign! Join us once again, as we set off on the road to adventure with new friends, and perhaps some old faces! Settle back, relax, and prepare to enjoy the AGE OF WORMS!!
PROLOGUE
The trip to Waterdeep had been long and uncomfortable. Giovanni Vito, former heir to one of the richest merchant houses of Sembia, could not have foreseen that he would be forced to ride in the belly of a trading vessel along with unwashed commoners. Then he remembered the names hurled at him like red-hot daggers: Cursed…Fiend-thrall…Warlock. He remembered the disgrace on his family, and their rejection of his talent. He remembered the expulsion from the family manse as an apostate, wielder of an unholy power. He was only 16 years old at the time. The memories branded his soul, the pain from which still numbed him.
Giovanni could not explain where his power came from, or when he even became aware of its presence. What he could recall were the dreams, the nightmares he experienced from an early age. The images were elemental and gruesome, dominated by monsters with leathery bat-like wings, creatures with long claws dripping with the blood of their victims, or other visions too horrifying to have been created by his sleeping mind. Always in the distance, a lone figure stood. Humanoid in shape, the shadowy figure lurked, hands wreathed in the same eldritch energy that Giovanni was learning to summon and control. Could he be the shadowy figures in his dreams, or was it someone else, perhaps an ancestor that had damned him by making a pact with such dark forces? In either case, he was unable to discern whether the figure in the distance was the fiends’ ally, their enemy, or, more dreadfully, their leader.
Over the next four years, Giovanni stayed within the larger cities, his nose buried in books of dark lore. When questioned of his motives, the boy would simply respond that he was an investigator and researcher of the Occult. Studying dragons, arcanists, magical beasts, undead, and outsiders were his trade, or so he would claim. In reality, he was more concerned with learning about the darkness within himself. Whether his powers were in league with the wishes of some cruel deity or powerful outsider, or whether he was just some sort of arcane aberration were unknown to him. Given the proper research, Giovanni was going to answer the questions as to the origin of his powers, and he was going to learn to control those powers. His knowledge was growing, but the warlock was beginning to comprehend that the more he learned the less he truly understood.
The accommodations were far more suitable than the cozy cell prepared for him by the Grand Pasha of Calimport. As open-minded as the Calishites were to magic, spell-gifted beings such as Giovanni were treated with suspicion and cruelty. Beings of Djinn ancestry were widely accepted in Calimshan; beings with ties to the fiends of the lower planes were not so embraced. Fleeing in the night, Giovanni hastily accepted passage on a cargo ship headed north up the Sword Coast. It was with great hope that Giovanni traveled to Waterdeep. The City of Splendors was renowned as being a haven for the ‘differently abled’, and its vast libraries could possibly help the young warlock.
The boat rocked, shaking Giovanni from his reverie. The young man’s spectacles, unremarkable to those not able to detect the presence of magic, slipped to the edge of his nose. Annoyed, the warlock reset the glasses and returned to his reading. The book resting on his lap, titled simply “A Treatise on the Faezress and Effects on Underdark Travel”, had been spattered erratically by water dripping from the deck above, a fact that irritated Giovanni further. The book had been a waste of time, hardly worth even stealing from the Grand Pasha’s library. It was obvious that the author, some hack by the name of ‘Volo’, had no idea what he was talking about. He was more interested in talking about the inns and mead halls of Deep Shanatar than the nature of the Underdark’s protections against teleportation.
A loud splash was audible through the walls of the chamber. The crew had dropped anchor. The hatch leading to the outer deck swung open and light poured into the dark room. A burly sailor, complete with an eye patch, grunted into the hold. “Get out, you’s! Welcome to Waterdeep!” The other passengers around him began standing, stretching, collecting their meager belongings. Giovanni’s possessions were limited primarily to his clothing which, while of high quality, was dirty and stained from the travel. He knew that much of what he wore was of magical quality, but this was a fact that he tried to cover up or conceal. His tunic, scarf, glasses, and cloak were all magical. If the sailors aboard knew of their value there would be no way that they would have let him leave the boat fully clothed.
Giovanni stepped out on to the main deck of the galley. The sunlight burned his eyes for a moment, but he quickly adjusted his sight. The city was immense! He had been told that they would arrive in a place called the Dock Ward, but he had figured it to be a few piers. Waterdeep extended as far as his vision carried. A warlock could easily get lost in a place like this.
As he stepped off the gangplank and on to terra firma, Giovanni peered into his belt pouch. Eighteen lonely gold coins looked back up at him. This would not do. There was no way that a man could make it for long on such a pittance. Sighing and biting his lower lip, the warlock began to ponder his situation and a possible solution. As he did so, a single piece of parchment floated by on the wind and softly struck his lower leg. Giovanni reached down to swipe it off, but something about the paper caught his eye. Gripping it with both hands, he began to read.
“WANTED: Competitors willing to prove their mettle against foes in gladiatorial combat.” Interesting, thought Giovanni. The young warlock continued walking north as he read. Apparently, he had arrived in time for Waterdeep’s yearly gladiatorial competition, complete with substantial gold winnings and a prize called ‘The Champion’s Belt’. The prospects were most intriguing. There was the issue of finding a licensed team manager, but Giovanni figured that he might luck upon one of those.
As he walked north, the warlock began running scenarios through his mind regarding the Champion’s Belt tournament. It was obvious to him that due to his relatively famous family name, it might be best if he used an alias. Understanding the flair expected in the arena, this alias should be something simple yet striking. Grinning inwardly, Giovanni decided that the name would hint at the extra planar and chaotic nature of the power that he wielded. He would call himself “Havok”.
_______________________________________________________
Giovanni spent the next several days in the City of Splendors putting out feelers and letting it be generally known throughout the seedy Dock Ward that he was an aspiring competitor looking for a manager.
One evening, while seated alone in the taproom of the Splintered Stair inn, the young warlock’s attention was drawn from his open book for a quiet, clearing of a feminine throat. Glancing up, his breath momentarily caught in his chest at the sight of the woman standing over him. She was dressed in the manner of most of the inhabitants of Dock Ward; rough, worn clothing over boiled leathers, but her eyes were depthless and hypnotic. A small, gold ring pierced her full, lower lip. It took the young warlock a moment to notice that she was not alone. A handsome, though rather short fellow, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood behind her. He was dressed in a fine, blue robe, and polished knee-high boots. A well-made lute was slung over one shoulder.
“I understand that you are in need of a sponsor,” the woman began without preamble.
Giovanni took a moment to clear his throat before speaking. “Er…yes. That’s right. Please, won’t you sit down?” The woman pulled out a chair, and her companion joined her. “My name is Celeste,” she said, her piercing gaze never wavering. “I know that you call yourself Havok,” at this, a small smile creased her pretty mouth. “Allow me to introduce Ekaym Smallcask.” The short man nodded. “Ekaym,” Celeste continued, “is a merchant on an extended stay in Waterdeep. He has procured a manager’s license for the Champion’s Games, and he is recruiting fighters.” She turned expectantly to Ekaym. “Just so,” he said jovially, “It promises to be quite the spectacle, or so I’m told! Opportunites abound, both financially, and…romantically.” He winked knowingly at Giovanni. The warlock kept his expression carefully neutral. “What are your terms?” he asked. “Ah, a bottom-line man!” Ekaym laughed. “I like that! Well, the standard managerial fee is, ah…fifty percent of all winnings. In return, I shall provide you with sponsorship, contacts, should you care to place any wagers on the games, healing should you need it, and, of course…a team.”
Giovanni leaned back in his chair. Of course he would need to be part of a team. He hadn’t really given that aspect much consideration, but it only made sense. He pondered the situation for a few moments, then shrugged and extended his hand to Ekaym. “I agree.” “Excellent!” shouted Ekaym. “I’ll come round tomorrow evening at this same time to fetch you and introduce you to your new team mates.”
Celeste rose, and Ekaym followed her. As the strangely beautiful woman turned to leave, she spoke one last time to Giovanni. “If you acquit yourself well in the tournament, I may have need of your services again in the future.”
PROLOGUE
The trip to Waterdeep had been long and uncomfortable. Giovanni Vito, former heir to one of the richest merchant houses of Sembia, could not have foreseen that he would be forced to ride in the belly of a trading vessel along with unwashed commoners. Then he remembered the names hurled at him like red-hot daggers: Cursed…Fiend-thrall…Warlock. He remembered the disgrace on his family, and their rejection of his talent. He remembered the expulsion from the family manse as an apostate, wielder of an unholy power. He was only 16 years old at the time. The memories branded his soul, the pain from which still numbed him.
Giovanni could not explain where his power came from, or when he even became aware of its presence. What he could recall were the dreams, the nightmares he experienced from an early age. The images were elemental and gruesome, dominated by monsters with leathery bat-like wings, creatures with long claws dripping with the blood of their victims, or other visions too horrifying to have been created by his sleeping mind. Always in the distance, a lone figure stood. Humanoid in shape, the shadowy figure lurked, hands wreathed in the same eldritch energy that Giovanni was learning to summon and control. Could he be the shadowy figures in his dreams, or was it someone else, perhaps an ancestor that had damned him by making a pact with such dark forces? In either case, he was unable to discern whether the figure in the distance was the fiends’ ally, their enemy, or, more dreadfully, their leader.
Over the next four years, Giovanni stayed within the larger cities, his nose buried in books of dark lore. When questioned of his motives, the boy would simply respond that he was an investigator and researcher of the Occult. Studying dragons, arcanists, magical beasts, undead, and outsiders were his trade, or so he would claim. In reality, he was more concerned with learning about the darkness within himself. Whether his powers were in league with the wishes of some cruel deity or powerful outsider, or whether he was just some sort of arcane aberration were unknown to him. Given the proper research, Giovanni was going to answer the questions as to the origin of his powers, and he was going to learn to control those powers. His knowledge was growing, but the warlock was beginning to comprehend that the more he learned the less he truly understood.
The accommodations were far more suitable than the cozy cell prepared for him by the Grand Pasha of Calimport. As open-minded as the Calishites were to magic, spell-gifted beings such as Giovanni were treated with suspicion and cruelty. Beings of Djinn ancestry were widely accepted in Calimshan; beings with ties to the fiends of the lower planes were not so embraced. Fleeing in the night, Giovanni hastily accepted passage on a cargo ship headed north up the Sword Coast. It was with great hope that Giovanni traveled to Waterdeep. The City of Splendors was renowned as being a haven for the ‘differently abled’, and its vast libraries could possibly help the young warlock.
The boat rocked, shaking Giovanni from his reverie. The young man’s spectacles, unremarkable to those not able to detect the presence of magic, slipped to the edge of his nose. Annoyed, the warlock reset the glasses and returned to his reading. The book resting on his lap, titled simply “A Treatise on the Faezress and Effects on Underdark Travel”, had been spattered erratically by water dripping from the deck above, a fact that irritated Giovanni further. The book had been a waste of time, hardly worth even stealing from the Grand Pasha’s library. It was obvious that the author, some hack by the name of ‘Volo’, had no idea what he was talking about. He was more interested in talking about the inns and mead halls of Deep Shanatar than the nature of the Underdark’s protections against teleportation.
A loud splash was audible through the walls of the chamber. The crew had dropped anchor. The hatch leading to the outer deck swung open and light poured into the dark room. A burly sailor, complete with an eye patch, grunted into the hold. “Get out, you’s! Welcome to Waterdeep!” The other passengers around him began standing, stretching, collecting their meager belongings. Giovanni’s possessions were limited primarily to his clothing which, while of high quality, was dirty and stained from the travel. He knew that much of what he wore was of magical quality, but this was a fact that he tried to cover up or conceal. His tunic, scarf, glasses, and cloak were all magical. If the sailors aboard knew of their value there would be no way that they would have let him leave the boat fully clothed.
Giovanni stepped out on to the main deck of the galley. The sunlight burned his eyes for a moment, but he quickly adjusted his sight. The city was immense! He had been told that they would arrive in a place called the Dock Ward, but he had figured it to be a few piers. Waterdeep extended as far as his vision carried. A warlock could easily get lost in a place like this.
As he stepped off the gangplank and on to terra firma, Giovanni peered into his belt pouch. Eighteen lonely gold coins looked back up at him. This would not do. There was no way that a man could make it for long on such a pittance. Sighing and biting his lower lip, the warlock began to ponder his situation and a possible solution. As he did so, a single piece of parchment floated by on the wind and softly struck his lower leg. Giovanni reached down to swipe it off, but something about the paper caught his eye. Gripping it with both hands, he began to read.
“WANTED: Competitors willing to prove their mettle against foes in gladiatorial combat.” Interesting, thought Giovanni. The young warlock continued walking north as he read. Apparently, he had arrived in time for Waterdeep’s yearly gladiatorial competition, complete with substantial gold winnings and a prize called ‘The Champion’s Belt’. The prospects were most intriguing. There was the issue of finding a licensed team manager, but Giovanni figured that he might luck upon one of those.
As he walked north, the warlock began running scenarios through his mind regarding the Champion’s Belt tournament. It was obvious to him that due to his relatively famous family name, it might be best if he used an alias. Understanding the flair expected in the arena, this alias should be something simple yet striking. Grinning inwardly, Giovanni decided that the name would hint at the extra planar and chaotic nature of the power that he wielded. He would call himself “Havok”.
_______________________________________________________
Giovanni spent the next several days in the City of Splendors putting out feelers and letting it be generally known throughout the seedy Dock Ward that he was an aspiring competitor looking for a manager.
One evening, while seated alone in the taproom of the Splintered Stair inn, the young warlock’s attention was drawn from his open book for a quiet, clearing of a feminine throat. Glancing up, his breath momentarily caught in his chest at the sight of the woman standing over him. She was dressed in the manner of most of the inhabitants of Dock Ward; rough, worn clothing over boiled leathers, but her eyes were depthless and hypnotic. A small, gold ring pierced her full, lower lip. It took the young warlock a moment to notice that she was not alone. A handsome, though rather short fellow, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood behind her. He was dressed in a fine, blue robe, and polished knee-high boots. A well-made lute was slung over one shoulder.
“I understand that you are in need of a sponsor,” the woman began without preamble.
Giovanni took a moment to clear his throat before speaking. “Er…yes. That’s right. Please, won’t you sit down?” The woman pulled out a chair, and her companion joined her. “My name is Celeste,” she said, her piercing gaze never wavering. “I know that you call yourself Havok,” at this, a small smile creased her pretty mouth. “Allow me to introduce Ekaym Smallcask.” The short man nodded. “Ekaym,” Celeste continued, “is a merchant on an extended stay in Waterdeep. He has procured a manager’s license for the Champion’s Games, and he is recruiting fighters.” She turned expectantly to Ekaym. “Just so,” he said jovially, “It promises to be quite the spectacle, or so I’m told! Opportunites abound, both financially, and…romantically.” He winked knowingly at Giovanni. The warlock kept his expression carefully neutral. “What are your terms?” he asked. “Ah, a bottom-line man!” Ekaym laughed. “I like that! Well, the standard managerial fee is, ah…fifty percent of all winnings. In return, I shall provide you with sponsorship, contacts, should you care to place any wagers on the games, healing should you need it, and, of course…a team.”
Giovanni leaned back in his chair. Of course he would need to be part of a team. He hadn’t really given that aspect much consideration, but it only made sense. He pondered the situation for a few moments, then shrugged and extended his hand to Ekaym. “I agree.” “Excellent!” shouted Ekaym. “I’ll come round tomorrow evening at this same time to fetch you and introduce you to your new team mates.”
Celeste rose, and Ekaym followed her. As the strangely beautiful woman turned to leave, she spoke one last time to Giovanni. “If you acquit yourself well in the tournament, I may have need of your services again in the future.”
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
