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
Community
Playing the Game
Talking the Talk
(RG) Fitz's Folly
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="Fradak" data-source="post: 7210892" data-attributes="member: 6805410"><p>Chrysagon was still a young boy when he enrolled in the war. His recklessness was his strength as much as his flaw. Galvanized by the Tempus priests, he was always volunteer for the most dangerous expeditions. One day, as his company passed through the Forest of Mir in Tethyr, they encountered a necromancer. Chrysagon barely survived but the company was annihilated and joined the army of the dead. There, Chrysagon met a priest of Kelemvor who took him under his wing.</p><p></p><p>[sblock=This is his story]<strong>1467 Mir Forest, Thetyr</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>"Caw."</strong> Laying on the ground, the first thing Chrysagon felt was the horrid smell of decay. <strong>"Caw."</strong> He opened an eye and discovered a wide red sky. <strong>"This sunset was truly beautiful"</strong>, he thought. <strong> "Caw."</strong> He focused on that sound, something black was moving in his field of view. <strong>"Caw."</strong> A crow. He was snatching flesh from an opened wound in his left shoulder. Chrysagon didn't feel any pain, at first. Then it came, a scorching pain. A memory flash stroke his mind at this very moment. It was a sword, a magic one. His leather vest was a weak protection against it.</p><p></p><p><strong>"Caw."</strong> Another crow landed to feed on the dying young man. He tried to move his legs. No response. Nothing from the right arm neither, when he tried to drive away the crows. Barely conscious, he had no idea of his physical state. The effort to raise and check his wounds was terrible, but he had to know. To know if everything was lost or maybe he will survive this day. He turned his head to find his arm rammed into a beheaded chest. This vision of horror gave him enough strength to pull it out, discovering his red bloody hand, but still with five fingers on it. The happiness of not being crippled erased all the suffering he was enduring. Searching for his legs he didn't understand immediately at what he was looking at. It had no sense. Then he realized that he was buried under a pile of entangled corpses in some impossible positions. Chrysagon tried to remove himself from this blood bath pulling out by arm force. His two legs appeared. Relief. He tried to stand up. Immediately, the searing pain made him want to scream, but he gritted his teeth and fell on his back, out of the pile. He stayed too much time under the dead bodies and his legs refused to move anymore.</p><p></p><p>Time passed. How much? He could not tell. When he woke up, the sun was rising. It is at those moments of profound despair that you start being poetic, everything seems delightful. Is it death? Chrysagon was ready to welcome it. It was a beautiful day to die. He closed his eyes, In peace... But something pulled him out of this dreaming state. It was a man, looting his boots. The man was not a soldier. But a scavenger. Those guys wait the end of combat to steal from the bodies anything valuable. The lowest thing a man could do. The body snatcher ignored that Chrysagon was alive. He took the first weapon his hand could grab and swung it. Dealing with the boots, the scavenger didn't see the metallic spiked ball coming for his head. He rolled on the ground, holding what was left of his jaw and looking everywhere in a desperate attempt to find a way to prevent the blood from flowing out of his veins. Chrysagon was standing up, ignoring the dying man. He was already staring at the others in a posture of defiance, silently. There were three of them. They didn't see what happened, too busy finishing off helpless soldiers. They looked at each other then back at Chrysagon, evaluating the risk. They could read on his face the determination of an already dead man. His calm was disturbing. An unknown warrior, armed with a heavy flail, one of them already down, in one blow. Too risky. They fled, letting their friend bleed to death. But only to come back in force later, thought the boy.</p><p></p><p>The adrenaline ceased quickly his effect. Chrysagon knelled, this weapon was so heavy. Looking around him, he could realize the extent of the loss. He was in this clearing, In the midst of what was his companions, for a day. He was the only survivor. Alone, with the crows. The images flashed back, replacing his own sight. They didn't see it coming. An ambush. It started with an arrow rain. Then spears. Many fell. In the center of the shields circle, the captain yelled to hold the line. Then, we saw them. Not dead nor living. They stepped out of the tree line. Led by this red dressed woman on horseback. She pointed a finger at us. Chrysagon felt his heart stop for a moment. The man at his right collapsed with a silent scream on his face. And then they charged. The crash was terrible. Behind his massive shield, Chrysagon held the line. Using both his arms to sustain the pressure. The more we killed and the more they came. Looking around he could see this woman. She was alone, without any protection. He found a breach and run at her whit only the energy of despair. She was alone for a reason, because she didn't need anybody. A gesture of her hand and a blackened sword appeared from nowhere, hurling at him. The thick steeled shield was not strong enough to stop that blade. The vision stopped.</p><p></p><p>His company was counting two hundred men. He could barely see thirty of them, stacked there. Where were the others? Then this man showed up. An old guy, wearing a grey robe. Preparing his flail, the boy asked, <strong> "Who goes there? Death took me already today, I'm not afraid of you, wizard."</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>"I have long walked by your side, boy. Today is not your day, be at peace. Death has is count. Now, let me do my duty. But if you insist... there is always time for another last-minute..."</strong></p><p></p><p>Chrysagon stayed there, staring at this man dragging corpses. He was not here to steal anything. But to take care of the dead. Chrysagon could not resist and helped him in his task. It took the day to dig the shared tomb. The warriors were cleaned, embalmed and oiled. Then laid down on a bed of swords for the glory of Tempus. By nightfall, the ritual was completed. Knelled in front of the stone tablet topping the tomb, the man and Chrysagon prayed.</p><p></p><p><strong>"Lord of Battles, welcome these souls in your realm, The Warrior's Rest. They lived up to your name and they died in your name. They deserve to stand at your side."</strong></p><p></p><p>The man raised. <strong> "Come, my son. Walk with me. A long journey awaits us."</strong></p><p></p><p>And Chrysagon followed the man. He recognized the skeletal balance on his robe. the man was a cleric of Kelemvor, the Judge. They walked in silence for a while. But Chrysagon could not hold it any longer.</p><p></p><p><strong>"Father, I have some questions."</strong></p><p><strong> "Ask, and you shall receive."</strong></p><p><strong> "I don't understand why death took my brothers and let me live. It is cruel. Some of them deserved it more than me. ."</strong></p><p><strong> "Death isn’t cruel, merely terribly, terribly good at his job."</strong></p><p><strong> "But they were good men. They did everything the war priests commanded."</strong></p><p><strong> "Goodness is about what you do. Not who you pray to."</strong></p><p><strong> "But we deserved to win this battle. It is not right."</strong></p><p><strong> "There is no such a thing as Right or Wrong. Just places to stand."</strong></p><p><strong> "But she raised the dead, Father. Isn't that wrong? The clerics told us they will protect us. I don't want to believe in Tempus and his priests anymore."</strong></p><p><strong> "Belief is one of the most powerful forces in the multiverse. It may not be able to move mountains, exactly. But it can create someone who can."</strong></p><p></p><p>Chrysagon remained silent for a while after this last sentence, meditating. But one question was burning in his mind.</p><p><strong> "Can you tell me when I'm going to die?"</strong></p><p><strong> "If people knew when they are going to die, I think they probably couldn't live at all. Just live your life as it comes., my son"</strong></p><p><strong> "But, how much time do I..."</strong></p><p><strong> "Time is a drug. Too much of it kills you."</strong></p><p><strong> "But..."</strong></p><p><strong> "Don't you ever stop asking questions?"</strong></p><p></p><p>At that very moment, they arrived on the top of a hill. Chrysagon looked at the horizon, thinking at the Father's words. It was a beautiful day to live.</p><p></p><p>[/sblock]Chrysagon followed the priest to the major center of Kelemvorite worship, the Tower of Skulls in Ormath, an abbey built as a ziggurat whose walls are carved with a stone facing in the shape of staring human skulls. There, he joined the ranks of the cult of Death. When the High Lord Doom decided to send some help to the investigation team in charge of the Death Curse, Chrysagon volunteer to go. What happened then, remains to be written.</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p><strong><strong>Chrysagon of Mir, Iron Brother of the Eternal Order</strong></strong></p><p><em><em>Male Aasimar Paladin Level 4, Loyal Neutral</em></em></p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Armor Class.</strong></strong> 18 (chain mail 16, shield +2)</p><p><strong><strong>Hit Points.</strong></strong> 36 (4d10+8)</p><p><strong><strong>Speed.</strong></strong> 30 ft.</p><p><strong><strong>Initiative.</strong></strong> -1</p><p>--------------------</p><p><strong><strong>STR</strong></strong> 16 (+3), <strong> <strong>DEX</strong></strong> 8 (-1), <strong> <strong>CON</strong></strong> 14 (+2), <strong> <strong>INT</strong></strong> 10(+0), <strong> <strong>WIS</strong></strong> 10 (+0), <strong> <strong>CHA</strong></strong> 18 (+4)</p><p>--------------------</p><p><strong><strong>Saving Throws.</strong></strong> Wis +2, Cha +6</p><p><strong><strong>Resistance.</strong></strong> Nectrotic and radiant damage</p><p><strong><strong>Skills.</strong></strong> Athletics +5, Medicine +2, History +2, Religion +2</p><p><strong><strong>Senses.</strong></strong> Darkvision 60 ft, Passive Perception 10</p><p><strong><strong>Languages.</strong> </strong> Common, Dwarvish, Draconic, Celestial</p><p><strong><strong>Background.</strong></strong> Acolyte</p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Actions</strong></strong></p><p>--------------------</p><p><strong><strong>Flail.</strong></strong> <em>Melee</em> : +5 (1d8+5 bludgeoning ; versatile)</p><p><strong><strong>Javelin.</strong></strong> <em>Range</em>: +5 (1d6+ 5 piercing 30/120 ft)</p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Spells</strong></strong></p><p>--------------------</p><p><strong>Spellcasting ability</strong> Charisma<strong> Spell Save DC</strong> 14; <strong>Spell Attack Bonus</strong> +6</p><p></p><p>- Cantrip: <em>Light</em></p><p>- Level 1: [][][] <em>Divine Favor, Command, Purify Food and Drink, Bless, Protection vs Evil/good, Sanctuary</em></p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Features and Traits</strong></strong></p><p>--------------------</p><p><strong><strong>Celestial </strong><strong>Resistance.</strong></strong> You have resistance to necrotic damage and radiant damage.</p><p><strong><strong>Healing Hands.</strong></strong> +4 HP as an action. 1/long rest.</p><p><strong><strong>Light Bearer.</strong></strong> You know the light cantrip.</p><p><strong><strong>Divine Sense.</strong></strong> Detect celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet. 4/Long rest.</p><p><strong><strong>Lay on Hands.</strong></strong> 20 HP, as an action.</p><p><strong><strong>D</strong><strong>ivine Smite</strong><strong>.</strong></strong> 2d8/slot</p><p><strong><strong>Divine Health.</strong></strong> Immune to disease.</p><p><strong><strong>Sacred Oath</strong>.</strong> Oath of Devotion.</p><p><strong><strong>Sacred Weapon.</strong></strong> As an action, add Charisma modifier to Attack rolls. Bright light 20 ft radius, magical weapon. 1 min.</p><p><strong><strong>Turn the Unholy.</strong></strong> As an action, Fiends and Undead in sight (30 feet) wisdom saving throw or turned for 1 min or until it takes damage.</p><p><strong><strong>Dueling.</strong></strong> +2 dmg 1 handed</p><p><strong><strong>Shelter of the Faithful</strong>.</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Equipment</strong></strong></p><p>---------------------</p><p>Flail, javelin (5), dagger chain mail, shield, holy symbol/reliquary, backpack, blanket, candle (10), tinderbox, alms box, blocks of incense (2), censer, robes, rations/1 day (2), waterskin, holy symbol/amulet, clothes/common, pouch, robes, prayer book, sticks of incense (5)</p><p><strong><strong>Coins</strong></strong> 61 gp, 5 sp <strong> <strong>Equipment weight </strong></strong>104 lb</p><p></p><p><strong><strong>Carrying Capacity</strong></strong> 240 lb</p><p></p><p><img src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a7/5a/ac/a75aacf34fb879d218255f97ae53e346.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p></p><p>[sblock=Chyrsagon Chronicles]</p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><strong>Kyhton 21, Year of the Warrior Princess - Port Nyanzaru, Chult</strong></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">High Lord Doom Indraeyan,</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">As Instructed, I have placed myself at the service of the Gauntlet to add our expertise in this matter. Those Knights are brave and valiant brothers in arm, they welcomed me as one of their own. I received the order to join an investigation team leaving for Chult. It seems that the source of this Evil is buried somewhere in these tangled jungles. The assembled team is made up of the convergence of very diverse interests. I like to think that unity makes strength, however I suppose in this case, what unite us is more the old saying "The enemy of my enemy is my friend". Only time will tell. I didn't have the opportunity to learn more about them but it seems to me that some fine elements are gathered on this vessel. I am confident that, together, we will find a way to eradicate this Curse.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlightens me along the path.</span></span><p style="margin-left: 20px"></p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"></p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit">Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Post Scriptum: I'm pleased to inform you that a monk of the Order of the Long Death is taking part of this expedition.</span></span></p><p>[HR][/HR]<span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><strong></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><strong>Kyhton 22, Year of the Warrior Princess - Port Nyanzaru, Chult</strong></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">High Lord Doom Indraeyan,</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #000000"><span style="font-family: inherit">My steps have led me to the Weave of Life, a rug and tapestry shop owned by a certain Klevin Van'Sharen. The merchant asked us to intervene in one of his cases. It seems that some sort of ancient amulet could be connected with the Curse. Unfortunately, we missed the opportunity to seize it, for now. </span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit">We have made contact with Alistair Bol of the Gauntlet. Strange disappearances were reported in Port Nyanzaru, they seem connected with the "Call of Death". Our suspicions were confirmed when we found them, in the Old City. You were right, My Lord, the dead are walking in Chult. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #000000"><span style="font-family: inherit">But more importantly, a name has surfaced: The Soulmonger. The thirst of this necromantic artifact for souls is almost quenched and our time is being counted. The source of this evil seems to hide deep into the jungle, it will be our next big step.</span></span><span style="color: #000000"><span style="font-family: inherit">I'm confident that our Alliance will soon bring the results you are expecting.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #000000"><span style="font-family: inherit">We are facing a great threat, my Lord. I hope I'll be up to this task.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path.</span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p> <span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit">Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span>[HR][/HR]<span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><strong>Kyhton 28, Year of the Warrior Princess - Camp Righteous, Chult</strong></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">High Lord Doom Indraeyan,</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Like lost souls, we followed the Shoshenstar river as it was the Styx itself, leading us to our doom. Unnamed perils awaited our little company on the path to Camp Righteous but thanks to Kelemvor's protection, we finally attained our first step.</span></span> <span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">We expected t</span></span><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">he Gauntlet outpost to be </span></span><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">a corner of heaven in this endless green hell, but our hopes were dashed at the sight of the first undead abomination. Civilization seems definitely unable to expand in this jungle and it's hard to escape the conclusion that Chult is the deadliest place on all Faerune. </span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit">The Soulmonger remains hidden, deeply buried in one of those strange ruins. Is it beneath the city of Mezro? The old capital </span><span style="font-family: inherit">once ruled</span><span style="font-family: inherit"> by the seven immortal Barae, famed for having spent five hundred years hidden from the world by magical means. Or on t</span>he petrified Heart of Ubtao, floating over the Aldani Basin. Or in the ruins of the ancient city Orolunga, where it is said that the guardian Saja N’baza can answer any questions. Or maybe in the hand of Ras Nsi and his Undead army. </p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit">The future, always so clear to me, has become </span>like a black road at night. But I trust the Great Guide for I live by faith, not by sight. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path.</span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit">Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span>[HR][/HR] <span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><strong>Flamerule 1, Year of the Warrior Princess - Camp Vengeance, Chult</strong></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">High Lord Doom Indraeyan,</span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit">Unfortunately, the Soulmonger was not the sole evil artefact present on this peninsula. Our path led us to Artus Cimber and his cursed ring. Its corrupting power created dissension among our little group, playing us off on each other. The influence of the ring was a fierce adversary but we finally overcame this obstacle, together. I hope the wounds are fully healed, time will tell. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit">Drifting on this infested river, w</span><span style="font-family: inherit">e leaved what was once called Camp Righteous, exhausted physically and mentally. Only to find a falter company trying to survive infections and other monkey fevers. By Kelemvor's grace, we found Perne Salhana, Alistair Boll's squire. Returning to civilization was already in our mind but our happiness was short-lived as Commander Breakbone asked for our help.</span></p><p></p><p>Alistair Bol's mission was a dead end, my Lord. The Soulmonger is still far beyond our reach but exploring lost ruins, if nothing else, could only bring us closer. </p><p>Doubt ends where Faith begins.</p><p></p><p>I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother.</p><p> <span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span>[/sblock]<span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333"><span style="font-family: inherit"></span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fradak, post: 7210892, member: 6805410"] Chrysagon was still a young boy when he enrolled in the war. His recklessness was his strength as much as his flaw. Galvanized by the Tempus priests, he was always volunteer for the most dangerous expeditions. One day, as his company passed through the Forest of Mir in Tethyr, they encountered a necromancer. Chrysagon barely survived but the company was annihilated and joined the army of the dead. There, Chrysagon met a priest of Kelemvor who took him under his wing. [sblock=This is his story][B]1467 Mir Forest, Thetyr[/B] [B]"Caw."[/B] Laying on the ground, the first thing Chrysagon felt was the horrid smell of decay. [B]"Caw."[/B] He opened an eye and discovered a wide red sky. [B]"This sunset was truly beautiful"[/B], he thought. [B] "Caw."[/B] He focused on that sound, something black was moving in his field of view. [B]"Caw."[/B] A crow. He was snatching flesh from an opened wound in his left shoulder. Chrysagon didn't feel any pain, at first. Then it came, a scorching pain. A memory flash stroke his mind at this very moment. It was a sword, a magic one. His leather vest was a weak protection against it. [B]"Caw."[/B] Another crow landed to feed on the dying young man. He tried to move his legs. No response. Nothing from the right arm neither, when he tried to drive away the crows. Barely conscious, he had no idea of his physical state. The effort to raise and check his wounds was terrible, but he had to know. To know if everything was lost or maybe he will survive this day. He turned his head to find his arm rammed into a beheaded chest. This vision of horror gave him enough strength to pull it out, discovering his red bloody hand, but still with five fingers on it. The happiness of not being crippled erased all the suffering he was enduring. Searching for his legs he didn't understand immediately at what he was looking at. It had no sense. Then he realized that he was buried under a pile of entangled corpses in some impossible positions. Chrysagon tried to remove himself from this blood bath pulling out by arm force. His two legs appeared. Relief. He tried to stand up. Immediately, the searing pain made him want to scream, but he gritted his teeth and fell on his back, out of the pile. He stayed too much time under the dead bodies and his legs refused to move anymore. Time passed. How much? He could not tell. When he woke up, the sun was rising. It is at those moments of profound despair that you start being poetic, everything seems delightful. Is it death? Chrysagon was ready to welcome it. It was a beautiful day to die. He closed his eyes, In peace... But something pulled him out of this dreaming state. It was a man, looting his boots. The man was not a soldier. But a scavenger. Those guys wait the end of combat to steal from the bodies anything valuable. The lowest thing a man could do. The body snatcher ignored that Chrysagon was alive. He took the first weapon his hand could grab and swung it. Dealing with the boots, the scavenger didn't see the metallic spiked ball coming for his head. He rolled on the ground, holding what was left of his jaw and looking everywhere in a desperate attempt to find a way to prevent the blood from flowing out of his veins. Chrysagon was standing up, ignoring the dying man. He was already staring at the others in a posture of defiance, silently. There were three of them. They didn't see what happened, too busy finishing off helpless soldiers. They looked at each other then back at Chrysagon, evaluating the risk. They could read on his face the determination of an already dead man. His calm was disturbing. An unknown warrior, armed with a heavy flail, one of them already down, in one blow. Too risky. They fled, letting their friend bleed to death. But only to come back in force later, thought the boy. The adrenaline ceased quickly his effect. Chrysagon knelled, this weapon was so heavy. Looking around him, he could realize the extent of the loss. He was in this clearing, In the midst of what was his companions, for a day. He was the only survivor. Alone, with the crows. The images flashed back, replacing his own sight. They didn't see it coming. An ambush. It started with an arrow rain. Then spears. Many fell. In the center of the shields circle, the captain yelled to hold the line. Then, we saw them. Not dead nor living. They stepped out of the tree line. Led by this red dressed woman on horseback. She pointed a finger at us. Chrysagon felt his heart stop for a moment. The man at his right collapsed with a silent scream on his face. And then they charged. The crash was terrible. Behind his massive shield, Chrysagon held the line. Using both his arms to sustain the pressure. The more we killed and the more they came. Looking around he could see this woman. She was alone, without any protection. He found a breach and run at her whit only the energy of despair. She was alone for a reason, because she didn't need anybody. A gesture of her hand and a blackened sword appeared from nowhere, hurling at him. The thick steeled shield was not strong enough to stop that blade. The vision stopped. His company was counting two hundred men. He could barely see thirty of them, stacked there. Where were the others? Then this man showed up. An old guy, wearing a grey robe. Preparing his flail, the boy asked, [B] "Who goes there? Death took me already today, I'm not afraid of you, wizard."[/B] [B]"I have long walked by your side, boy. Today is not your day, be at peace. Death has is count. Now, let me do my duty. But if you insist... there is always time for another last-minute..."[/B] Chrysagon stayed there, staring at this man dragging corpses. He was not here to steal anything. But to take care of the dead. Chrysagon could not resist and helped him in his task. It took the day to dig the shared tomb. The warriors were cleaned, embalmed and oiled. Then laid down on a bed of swords for the glory of Tempus. By nightfall, the ritual was completed. Knelled in front of the stone tablet topping the tomb, the man and Chrysagon prayed. [B]"Lord of Battles, welcome these souls in your realm, The Warrior's Rest. They lived up to your name and they died in your name. They deserve to stand at your side."[/B] The man raised. [B] "Come, my son. Walk with me. A long journey awaits us."[/B] And Chrysagon followed the man. He recognized the skeletal balance on his robe. the man was a cleric of Kelemvor, the Judge. They walked in silence for a while. But Chrysagon could not hold it any longer. [B]"Father, I have some questions."[/B] [B] "Ask, and you shall receive."[/B] [B] "I don't understand why death took my brothers and let me live. It is cruel. Some of them deserved it more than me. ."[/B] [B] "Death isn’t cruel, merely terribly, terribly good at his job."[/B] [B] "But they were good men. They did everything the war priests commanded."[/B] [B] "Goodness is about what you do. Not who you pray to."[/B] [B] "But we deserved to win this battle. It is not right."[/B] [B] "There is no such a thing as Right or Wrong. Just places to stand."[/B] [B] "But she raised the dead, Father. Isn't that wrong? The clerics told us they will protect us. I don't want to believe in Tempus and his priests anymore."[/B] [B] "Belief is one of the most powerful forces in the multiverse. It may not be able to move mountains, exactly. But it can create someone who can."[/B] Chrysagon remained silent for a while after this last sentence, meditating. But one question was burning in his mind. [B] "Can you tell me when I'm going to die?"[/B] [B] "If people knew when they are going to die, I think they probably couldn't live at all. Just live your life as it comes., my son"[/B] [B] "But, how much time do I..."[/B] [B] "Time is a drug. Too much of it kills you."[/B] [B] "But..."[/B] [B] "Don't you ever stop asking questions?"[/B] At that very moment, they arrived on the top of a hill. Chrysagon looked at the horizon, thinking at the Father's words. It was a beautiful day to live. [/sblock]Chrysagon followed the priest to the major center of Kelemvorite worship, the Tower of Skulls in Ormath, an abbey built as a ziggurat whose walls are carved with a stone facing in the shape of staring human skulls. There, he joined the ranks of the cult of Death. When the High Lord Doom decided to send some help to the investigation team in charge of the Death Curse, Chrysagon volunteer to go. What happened then, remains to be written. [HR][/HR] [B][B]Chrysagon of Mir, Iron Brother of the Eternal Order[/B][/B] [I][I]Male Aasimar Paladin Level 4, Loyal Neutral[/I][/I] [B][B]Armor Class.[/B][/B] 18 (chain mail 16, shield +2) [B][B]Hit Points.[/B][/B] 36 (4d10+8) [B][B]Speed.[/B][/B] 30 ft. [B][B]Initiative.[/B][/B] -1 -------------------- [B][B]STR[/B][/B] 16 (+3), [B] [B]DEX[/B][/B] 8 (-1), [B] [B]CON[/B][/B] 14 (+2), [B] [B]INT[/B][/B] 10(+0), [B] [B]WIS[/B][/B] 10 (+0), [B] [B]CHA[/B][/B] 18 (+4) -------------------- [B][B]Saving Throws.[/B][/B] Wis +2, Cha +6 [B][B]Resistance.[/B][/B] Nectrotic and radiant damage [B][B]Skills.[/B][/B] Athletics +5, Medicine +2, History +2, Religion +2 [B][B]Senses.[/B][/B] Darkvision 60 ft, Passive Perception 10 [B][B]Languages.[/B] [/B] Common, Dwarvish, Draconic, Celestial [B][B]Background.[/B][/B] Acolyte [B][B]Actions[/B][/B] -------------------- [B][B]Flail.[/B][/B] [I]Melee[/I] : +5 (1d8+5 bludgeoning ; versatile) [B][B]Javelin.[/B][/B] [I]Range[/I]: +5 (1d6+ 5 piercing 30/120 ft) [B][B]Spells[/B][/B] -------------------- [B]Spellcasting ability[/B] Charisma[B] Spell Save DC[/B] 14; [B]Spell Attack Bonus[/B] +6 - Cantrip: [I]Light[/I] - Level 1: [][][] [I]Divine Favor, Command, Purify Food and Drink, Bless, Protection vs Evil/good, Sanctuary[/I] [B][B]Features and Traits[/B][/B] -------------------- [B][B]Celestial [/B][B]Resistance.[/B][/B] You have resistance to necrotic damage and radiant damage. [B][B]Healing Hands.[/B][/B] +4 HP as an action. 1/long rest. [B][B]Light Bearer.[/B][/B] You know the light cantrip. [B][B]Divine Sense.[/B][/B] Detect celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet. 4/Long rest. [B][B]Lay on Hands.[/B][/B] 20 HP, as an action. [B][B]D[/B][B]ivine Smite[/B][B].[/B][/B] 2d8/slot [B][B]Divine Health.[/B][/B] Immune to disease. [B][B]Sacred Oath[/B].[/B] Oath of Devotion. [B][B]Sacred Weapon.[/B][/B] As an action, add Charisma modifier to Attack rolls. Bright light 20 ft radius, magical weapon. 1 min. [B][B]Turn the Unholy.[/B][/B] As an action, Fiends and Undead in sight (30 feet) wisdom saving throw or turned for 1 min or until it takes damage. [B][B]Dueling.[/B][/B] +2 dmg 1 handed [B][B]Shelter of the Faithful[/B].[/B] [B][B]Equipment[/B][/B] --------------------- Flail, javelin (5), dagger chain mail, shield, holy symbol/reliquary, backpack, blanket, candle (10), tinderbox, alms box, blocks of incense (2), censer, robes, rations/1 day (2), waterskin, holy symbol/amulet, clothes/common, pouch, robes, prayer book, sticks of incense (5) [B][B]Coins[/B][/B] 61 gp, 5 sp [B] [B]Equipment weight [/B][/B]104 lb [B][B]Carrying Capacity[/B][/B] 240 lb [IMG]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a7/5a/ac/a75aacf34fb879d218255f97ae53e346.jpg[/IMG] [sblock=Chyrsagon Chronicles] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana][B]Kyhton 21, Year of the Warrior Princess - Port Nyanzaru, Chult[/B][/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]High Lord Doom Indraeyan,[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]As Instructed, I have placed myself at the service of the Gauntlet to add our expertise in this matter. Those Knights are brave and valiant brothers in arm, they welcomed me as one of their own. I received the order to join an investigation team leaving for Chult. It seems that the source of this Evil is buried somewhere in these tangled jungles. The assembled team is made up of the convergence of very diverse interests. I like to think that unity makes strength, however I suppose in this case, what unite us is more the old saying "The enemy of my enemy is my friend". Only time will tell. I didn't have the opportunity to learn more about them but it seems to me that some fine elements are gathered on this vessel. I am confident that, together, we will find a way to eradicate this Curse.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlightens me along the path.[/FONT][/COLOR][INDENT] [COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit']Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother.[/FONT][/COLOR] [/INDENT] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]Post Scriptum: I'm pleased to inform you that a monk of the Order of the Long Death is taking part of this expedition.[/FONT][/COLOR] [HR][/HR][COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana][B] Kyhton 22, Year of the Warrior Princess - Port Nyanzaru, Chult[/B][/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]High Lord Doom Indraeyan,[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#000000][FONT='inherit']My steps have led me to the Weave of Life, a rug and tapestry shop owned by a certain Klevin Van'Sharen. The merchant asked us to intervene in one of his cases. It seems that some sort of ancient amulet could be connected with the Curse. Unfortunately, we missed the opportunity to seize it, for now. [/FONT][/COLOR] [FONT='inherit']We have made contact with Alistair Bol of the Gauntlet. Strange disappearances were reported in Port Nyanzaru, they seem connected with the "Call of Death". Our suspicions were confirmed when we found them, in the Old City. You were right, My Lord, the dead are walking in Chult. [/FONT] [COLOR=#000000][FONT='inherit']But more importantly, a name has surfaced: The Soulmonger. The thirst of this necromantic artifact for souls is almost quenched and our time is being counted. The source of this evil seems to hide deep into the jungle, it will be our next big step.[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=#000000][FONT='inherit']I'm confident that our Alliance will soon bring the results you are expecting.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#000000][FONT='inherit']We are facing a great threat, my Lord. I hope I'll be up to this task.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit']Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother. [/FONT][/COLOR][HR][/HR][COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit'] [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana][B]Kyhton 28, Year of the Warrior Princess - Camp Righteous, Chult[/B][/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]High Lord Doom Indraeyan,[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]Like lost souls, we followed the Shoshenstar river as it was the Styx itself, leading us to our doom. Unnamed perils awaited our little company on the path to Camp Righteous but thanks to Kelemvor's protection, we finally attained our first step.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]We expected t[/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]he Gauntlet outpost to be [/FONT][/COLOR][COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]a corner of heaven in this endless green hell, but our hopes were dashed at the sight of the first undead abomination. Civilization seems definitely unable to expand in this jungle and it's hard to escape the conclusion that Chult is the deadliest place on all Faerune. [/FONT][/COLOR] [FONT='inherit']The Soulmonger remains hidden, deeply buried in one of those strange ruins. Is it beneath the city of Mezro? The old capital [/FONT][FONT='inherit']once ruled[/FONT][FONT='inherit'] by the seven immortal Barae, famed for having spent five hundred years hidden from the world by magical means. Or on t[/FONT]he petrified Heart of Ubtao, floating over the Aldani Basin. Or in the ruins of the ancient city Orolunga, where it is said that the guardian Saja N’baza can answer any questions. Or maybe in the hand of Ras Nsi and his Undead army. [FONT='inherit']The future, always so clear to me, has become [/FONT]like a black road at night. But I trust the Great Guide for I live by faith, not by sight. [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path.[/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit']Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother. [/FONT][/COLOR][HR][/HR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana][B]Flamerule 1, Year of the Warrior Princess - Camp Vengeance, Chult[/B][/FONT][/COLOR] [COLOR=#333333][FONT=Verdana]High Lord Doom Indraeyan,[/FONT][/COLOR] [FONT='inherit']Unfortunately, the Soulmonger was not the sole evil artefact present on this peninsula. Our path led us to Artus Cimber and his cursed ring. Its corrupting power created dissension among our little group, playing us off on each other. The influence of the ring was a fierce adversary but we finally overcame this obstacle, together. I hope the wounds are fully healed, time will tell. [/FONT] [FONT='inherit']Drifting on this infested river, w[/FONT][FONT='inherit']e leaved what was once called Camp Righteous, exhausted physically and mentally. Only to find a falter company trying to survive infections and other monkey fevers. By Kelemvor's grace, we found Perne Salhana, Alistair Boll's squire. Returning to civilization was already in our mind but our happiness was short-lived as Commander Breakbone asked for our help.[/FONT] Alistair Bol's mission was a dead end, my Lord. The Soulmonger is still far beyond our reach but exploring lost ruins, if nothing else, could only bring us closer. Doubt ends where Faith begins. I pray for you, My High Lord Doom, and may The Judge enlighten me along the path. Chrysagon of Mir, your faithful Iron Brother. [COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit'] [/FONT][/COLOR][/sblock][COLOR=#333333][FONT='inherit'] [/FONT][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Talking the Talk
(RG) Fitz's Folly
Top