Tomb of Annihilation IC thread


I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
"Divination. Comparison between death rates here and on other continents. Tracking down the first known case of affliction of those returned to life. There are ways if one has time and resources." Amil shrugs. "Also, there is an item, an artifact that is the most likely candidate and its last known location was here. Deep in the jungle."

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"You are correct, Chult is large and a dangerous jungle, but we are confident the cause to the curse is here. Divine healing magic may be affected by this necromatc artifact, but divination magic still works. And some of the greatest wizards of the realms have gathered what little information we now have." Syandra answers the rogue. "Yes, yes Amil and his connections have proven our working theory , and we are grateful for all the information the Hidden Library has offered up to us." Wakanga says a bit of disproval in his voice. "We are the ones who have to take action. To find and end the Death Curse. And our expedition into the jungle is..."

"Is going as well as can be expected." Syandra cuts in. "We have supplies and porters ready to go at several locations. Once you decide your route," she continues as she reaches down beside her chair and pulls up a long scroll case. Taking out a map she unrolls it onto her lap. "You will have all the support in finding this necromantic artifact Amil spoke of."

OOG: The map is represented in the RG as the player's map to Chult.


Obah nodded. Seaching the Chultan jungle for a necromantic artifact without any leads would be impossible, but he had a few ideas on where they might start.

"It will be no easy task, to be sure." he said, and then smiled, "The Chultan jungle holds many dangers, but it is beautiful in its way, and more hospitable than outsiders might expect."

He pointed to a few places on the map saying, "It strikes me that the most likely place for a necromantic artifact to be found might well be in the ruins of our once-proud capital: Mezro. That cities' protectors wielded powerful magics and fought off various undead invasions before falling to the Spellplague. I have heard that those foreign mercenaries, the Flaming Fist, have laid some claim to the ruins - we may save some time by questioning their leader, who resides in Fort Belurian.

"On the other hand,"
he continued, "If you prefer to leave the coast and begin in the jungle itself, then I suggest we speak to the commander of Camp Vengeance, on the River Soshenstar. There, the Order of the Gauntlet have made excursions into the jungle so that they may fight the undead there. They may have found some sign of what we seek."

He made no overt comments on the subject, but it was clear by his tone that he was not impressed by either group of foreigners, but accepted that 'it is what it is'.

Braiden sees the prince enter and begins to stand, someone had told him once that was expected of you. As he gets about halfway up he notices that no one else moved. He pauses half standing face flushing slightly though hard to notice through his tanned complexion. The pause is just a hair to long than is comfortable before Braiden stands the rest of the way up and crosses to the sideboard that holds the pitchers of chilled drinks. He hastily pours himself and drink and takes a gulp to swallow some of his embarrassment. He turns back to the conversation once he stops feeling the burning in his ears.

"Do you know the name of this artifact?"

He then walks to the map and looks it over. At the mention of dangers he glances at the guide, Obah was his name.

"I know we need to be aware of the jungle heat and insects. More people die of those than any other danger combined. There are also the creatures that make the jungle their home, I am not well versed in the creatures of this continent but I do know how to protect us from most predators." Braiden pauses as he listens to Obah. "Gathering as much information on some of the more specific dangers would be best. Though from this map it looks as if both locations you mentioned are in opposite directions from each other. I suggest talking to the Flaming Fist leader first. We would want to go to Camp Vengeance only when we are prepared to venture into the jungle proper.


Again Obah nodded. "We will need to buy insect-repelling salves. The insects can carry fever, as well as they are annoying - and some bites are very painful. In addition, it is not safe to drink the ground water. We should get enough rain-catchers to serve a group of this size. Beyond that, I trust that you are prepared for an arduous and perilous journey. It will be hot, and it will be wet. Both will be beyond what you northerners may expect. It might be for the best if you dress lightly. Heavy armour becomes heavier when it is hard to keep dry. But I will not tell you to leave it behind."

"When we are done here,"
he added, "I will show you to the Grand Souk. It is a market where we can buy whatever we will need and more."



Chult/Port Nyanzaru/O’Tamu’s villa
Round 0

“Well, I do like shopping,” Lizzy said with a smile. “I don’t know much about jungles, though, so I guess I will have to take your advice on what I need. I am not exactly swimming in coin right now, though.” She pulled a single silver from her purse.


HP: 9/9
AC: 14
Init: +3
PP: 14

Bolts: 40
Arrows: 40
Healer's kit: 10 uses
Coin: 1 sp
Sneak Attack: 1d6
Dungeon Delver
  • Adv Perception/Investigation for secret doors.
  • Adv saves vs traps
  • Resist damage from traps
  • Traveling at fast pace doesn’t impose -5 on PP


Possibly a Idiot.
"The heat has never bothered me much." Rhino dryly remarked. "Bugs, on the other hand, do get into the worst places."

After taking a cursory look at the map, the tiefling poses a question. "Mezro was here, yes? And there is what looks to be another port town here, close by? I know most of us just got off the boat, and I will admit to being unfamiliar with the local environment, but would it be quicker to make the trip from here via ship? At least to this place?"


"We could take a boat, yes." answered Obah, "But then, we would have to pay tribute to Aremeg the Dragon Turtle to leave the Bay of Chult, or risk running past him. Then, at the other end, Port Castigliar is not much more than a ruined dock, having been overrun by undead years ago. We might be better off buying a canoe or two and paddling five or six days up the River Tiryki, and crossing the jungle eastward on foot."

He seemed indifferent to the decision, but his argument made it clear that he favoured the jungle to the sea. It was less clear whether that opinion was based on experience, or just his personal preference.
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A brass gong echoes throughout the villa. "Ah, our lunch is ready, we can talk more there. Please follow me." Wakanga says heading out.

Two more servants help lead the group across the foyer to a warm room with a huge table laid out with steaming platters and bowls of hot food. A fully roasted pig is the center piece complete with a northern red apple in its mouth.
"Splendid," the merchant prince says with a nod of approval. "Please sit and help yourselves. Your decision on a route need not be made in haste, because the expedition can not start till the day after tomorrow."
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I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
Amil follows the group and once seated he essentially ignores the food in favor of speaking about everything and anything Mezro.

The god Ubtao raised Mezro from the jungle with his own hand. It was his greatest gift to his people: a city etched from glass and stone where his priests could guide the common folk through the maze of life. At Mezro’s heart stood the Temple of Ubtao: a magnificent tower of crystal and gold that always presented the same face no matter where in the city one stood. From here, Ubtao sat in judgment on a platinum throne. Seven of his Chosen, known as “barae”, were granted miraculous powers and tasked with running the city. Under their stewardship, Mezro’s wisdom spread through the jungle tribes and the holy city became a site of pilgrimage. Mezro endured for four thousand years. Its glory rivalled even the great cities of the north: for while Mezro was smaller in size than its northern cousins, its libraries held the accumulated knowledge of four millennia. Of course, the city had its fair share of cutpurses and tricksters, and its merchants grew fat on pilgrims’ coin. Worse, in the muddle of city life, the Mezroans came to see Ubtao not as their shepherd, but instead as their remedy for earthly misfortunes. Enraged by their trivial pleas, Ubtao returned to the sky and refused to speak to his followers until they’d completed their journeys through the maze of life. Guardianship of Mezro fell to Ubtao’s barae, who were now the only souls blessed with his divine powers.

With Ubtao gone, the barae cast a powerful spell to hide Mezro from outsiders. Anyone gazing on the city from above would see nothing but jungle, and those who approached its walls would fall into a magical stupor that sent them off elsewhere. For five hundred years, only those whom the barae chose to meet were allowed entry. For the rest, Mezro became a lost city: whispered only in legend.

Ras Nsi was one of the seven barae that Ubtao first ordained. As sworn protector of Mezro, he was granted the power to reanimate the corpse of any creature that died on Chult. When civil war divided his country, Ras Nsi swore vengeance on the routed Eshowe tribe and used his powers to annihilate them. This act of genocide forced the remaining barae to banish him from their holy city. Branded on the forehead with the blue triangle of Mezro, Ras Nsi was sent into the jungle and told never to return. Ever loyal to Ubtao, Ras Nsi used his powers to raise an undead horde, marking each thrall with the symbol of exile that he now adopted as his own seal. With an army under his control, he waited patiently for a chance to save Mezro and redeem himself to its people. That chance came in 1363 DR, when Kaverin Ebonhand of the Cult of Frost penetrated Mezro’s magical protections and led an army of batiri goblins against the city. Ras Nsi’s forces acted swiftly and played a pivotal role in saving Mezro from oblivion.

Following the attack, the surviving barae chose to lift the magical veil over Mezro so its citizens could aid their pillaged countrymen. For a few brief decades, Mezro returned to the world and became a haven for those exploring the jungle. All but Ras Nsi were granted entry to the lost city. The necromancer returned to the jungle and, as the years rolled by, he gathered his undead forces for an assault on Mezro.

In 1385 DR, the Spellplague wracked Toril and separated the Chultan peninsula from the mainland. Mezro was drowned as the landscape buckled and the River Olung burst its banks. In a single stroke, four thousand years of history were obliterated. Robbed of his powers by Mezro’s destruction, Ras Nsi fled into the jungle, leaving his undead army to roam unfettered across Chult. Many of his thralls shambled into the flooded ruins of Mezro, making the site dangerous to explore. In time, rumor spread of priceless treasures buried inside. Once again, Mezro had become a lost city of legend.

Mezro has lain in ruin for over a century. The River Olung has long withdrawn, but much of the city is still flooded or swallowed by jungle. Explorers have scoured Mezro for treasures, yet even so, the city remains full of mystery and danger. Those who know the ruins agree there are many secrets yet to be unraveled.

Mezro was built in the shape of a circle, with four boulevards dividing the city into equal quarters. At the city center, the great Temple of Ubtao thrust ten stories into the sky. The ruins subsided over the years, slumping down into a dank jungle basin. The boulevards became flooded canals and vines arose to strangle the buildings.

So it remains today, a ruin full of undead and jungle dangers, waiting for the brave explorers to plunge into its depths and retreive its countless treasures.
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