By the way... I decided I was gonna set the whole campaign into motion with a little handout I just spent the last few hours writing... I'm using the "death" of Azoun as "before we got started" plot device, and am gonna let the PCs find out about it through a prophetic dream (I'm really fond of this plot device for some reason)... here's what I wrote (I used to be a pretty good writer, guess we'll find out if I've still got it or not):
The first rays of the morning sun wash over the landscape, bathing the city of Suzail -- capital of Cormyr -- in their light. At the center of the capital, the royal palace can be seen, its design and structure the definition of the word “majestic.” Already many of the citizens are gathered at the palace walls, waiting to hear Princess Alusair Nacacia Obarskyr, Regent of the nation, address the populace.
As she steps to the edge of the balcony, the sunlight reflects off her magnificent golden armor, enhancing her considerable presence. At her side, as ever, stands the beautiful battle-wizard Caladnei – her most trusted ally and friend. Raising her right hand to hush the populace, Alusair opens her mouth to speak…
Somewhere else – somewhere deep underground, far from the morning light – a beaten and haggard you man awakens to a familiar sound: that out a key turning in a lock, followed by a loud creak as the heavy metal door to his cell swings open…
Alusair continues to address the populace, assuring them that she is doing all she can to quell the unrest Cormyr has suffered in recent years. She begins to call for volunteers to supplant the forces that have been amassed for her latest campaign, when Caladnei cuts her off.
“My lady!” Caladnei cries out. “Your nephew!”
Before the battle-wizard can say anything more, the Regent is gone, running back into the palace and towards the chambers of her nephew: the infant Azoun V, heir to the throne of Cormyr…
The sudden light streaming into his cell hurts the young man’s eyes, and he is forced to cover them with his hands. Even without his eyes, however, he knows the sounds he hears all to well. The harsh breathing, the heavy footsteps, the metal chain dragging across the stone floor – the troll is here to torture him again…
Alusair rounds the corner, entering into Azoun’s chambers, several of the palace guards hot at her heels. What she sees when she enters is like something from one of her worst nightmares: the infant king’s personal guard lay scattered about the chamber, all dead. And as for the boy himself, he is in the clutches of nearly a dozen ebony-skinned elves – drow!
Before the Regent can find her tongue again, the dark elves have sprung into action. Several of them flank the one holding Azoun – a woman, and their leader, from the looks of it – as she moves towards the windows. The others draw their weapons – scimitars and crossbows – and move to intercept Alusair and her entourage…
The chain strikes the young man again, this time square in the chest. He falls to the ground, gasping for breath, only to be hit by a fierce uppercut from the troll’s powerful fist. He sails backwards, the chain catching him in the temple as he slams into the ground…
The battle is quick and chaotic. The palace guards are no match for the vile and honorless dark elves, and are quickly dispatched. Princess Alusair, however, refuses to fall. Already several crossbow bolts protrude from her torso and shoulders, but the drow poison they carry refuses to take hold. The dark elves have tightened their formation, seeking to prevent the Regent from reaching their leader before she can escape…
The female dark elf, Azoun balanced in her arms, waves her hands through a brief spellcasting, then steps out of the window. Those of her number who had been flanking her quickly do the same. Seeing this, Alusair screams out in rage and redoubles her efforts to break through the ranks of the dark elves who seek to impede her progress. For her trouble, she receives three more crossbow bolts, and this time the sleep poison takes effect…
The young man’s left eye is now swollen shut, and the vision in his right is blurred by the blood that runs freely from his forehead. His arm hangs useless at his side, and his breathing is labored and painful. He knows a few ribs are cracked, if not outright broken. He wonders how much more of this punishment he can take…
The female holding onto Azoun in the lead, all twelve of the dark elves slowly float down the palace walls, towards the soft ground below. From the back of their hasty formation, one of the warriors that faced Alusair cries out to a warning in the drow tongue to his commander. She glances upwards, and sees that on the roof of the palace, Caladnei is pointing directly at them! The battle-wizard’s hands go through the motions of a spellcasting, and a bolt of lightning arcs out from her hands, striking the dark elf closest to her. The bolt then moves towards the next in the formation, then the next, working its way towards the dark elves’ leader…
The female dark elf, reacting as quickly as possible to the situation, begins waving her hands through the motions of a counterspell. Unfortunately, this causes her to release her grip on her captive, and the infant Azoun (now free of her levitation spell) plunges towards the ground below…
While the female counters the lightning, another of the dark elves recovers enough to loose his own counterattack upon Caladnei. Reaching towards his neck, he tears loose a string of many-sized pearls, hurling two of the smaller ones towards the battle-wizard…
Over and over the troll’s fist connects with the young man’s midsection. Stars now dance over his vision, his one good eye threatening to give out. Maybe trying to take the chain from him wasn’t the best idea, he thinks. He’ll have to remember that… if he survives…
Caladnei barely manages to dive out of the way as the twin pearls strike her former position, erupting into huge blasts of magical fire. Coughing to clear the smoke and ash out of her lungs, she struggles to regain her lost footing, as the palace roof begins to collapse…
The dark elves all see the chunks of debris falling towards them, but they have almost no time to react. Several of the quicker-witted ones reverse their descent, instead floating upwards and arcing away from the first wave of debris, but still running smack dab into the second wave. A large rock strikes the male holding the string of magical pearls, which fall from his hands to the ground below…
Although they all try valiantly, in the end none of the dark elves are able to escape the rain of stone debris that has fallen upon them. As each of them is struck, their spells of levitation fail, and they plunge towards the ground below. Thinking quickly, the female begins the incantation to create a doorway in the ground below to catch both herself and the infant Azoun.
The doorway indeed materializes -- but unfortunately, it does so mere seconds before the string of pearls strikes the ground, trigging a massive explosion the likes of which much of Cormyr have never seen!
As the troll’s fist connects with his cheek one final time and consciousness finally fails him, the young man slumps to the ground, glad that his torture is finally – for today, at least – over. As the final vestiges of coherence fails him, he catches a glimpse of a shape outlined in the light behind the troll – and what appears to be a dozen eye-stalks staring intently at him…
As the young man fades into darkness, you catch a brief glimpse of the devastation that has befallen Suzail: charred bodies litter the streets, the palace’s foundation has been damaged, Alusair and Caladnei are both injured… and then, as suddenly as it began, the vision-dream ends.
You don’t yet wake up, however. Instead, you find yourself somewhere else…
The chamber is large and well-lit, thanks to a wagon wheel chandelier that overlooks a central hearth. Spread across the room are six long tables, and at the head sits a performance stool. You recognize this place as the Everful Chalice Tavern, a place you and your companions have frequented from time to time. When you were last there, it was busy, loud, and full of people. Now it is almost entirely empty, with only one individual sitting on the stool. They are wearing heavy grey robes, and a hood covers their head. You cannot make out any features that would help you identify them –
“I need to speak with you.” The stranger’s voice, unmistakably male, snaps you out of your reverie. “Please, meet me here at first light two days from now. The nation of Cormyr needs your help – in fact, its very future may depend on you.”
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
