DM Doug - May 23 - 2016

Connections - The Vanguard of Argus

Nicholas felt  its power tugging at his imagination while he read from a thick tome in his richly appointed private chambers. He had been having a hard time concentrating all that morning, with an intangible itch in the back of his mind. Now the itch was getting more intense - more demanding. In his mind’s eye, quite suddenly, Nicholas saw a flash of deepest and pure blackness, at once repulsive to him and at the same time compelling him with its immense depth. With a shudder through his body, Nicholas put down his book and knew that he must examine the artifact kept below.

He made his way through the corridors, absent mindedly greeting those he passed without really being aware of more than putting one foot in front of the other. If he was right, this was much different than the last time the chalice “Spoke” to him, much more subtle. He had hardly had time to learn the ways of this ancient holy chalice since its recent awakening – it was clearly the one in charge and he would have to rely on his prayers to wise Tyr to guide him forward. Soon he was passing through the Nave and down the corridor into the chamber of the Chalice.

Entering the holy shrine, he noticed an acolyte studying a papyrus in the room, who turned to greet him. The chalice was quiet and had no obvious effect on its environment; in fact the reaction of the acolyte told him the font had not acted in any way other than its usual inert way. Perhaps it was all in his imagination after all…. But he knew he would have to check to be sure. Smiling paternally to the young cleric, he gathered himself for an unknown potential reaction from the ancient device.

DM Don - Mar 7 - 2016

Connections - The Daggerford Dozen, Midnight's Watch, Crimson Reavers

Mask knew he couldn't avoid him too much longer, things hadn't gone the way Talos had hoped and with his temperment it was probably best to let things cool for a while, but leave it for too long and the avoidance would become a problem of its own.  He entered Wayrock Tower and found Talos seated on the steps, his molten core glowing through small cracks in his surface. 

"You have gone to great lengths to ensure this meeting, should I be flattered?" Mask quipped.

Talos remained frozen in his position on the stairs. "Flattered, concerned, contrite maybe even humbled, all of which I doubt you are actually capable of, but perhaps that is our inherent nature as Greater Gods?" he said in a voice equal parts grinding fault line and steam vents.

"Deep stuff.  Maybe we should start a book club?".  In his deep cowl only the unnaturally laser red grin and eyes were visible. The grin grew wider, and his eyes narrower, reflecting Mask's approval of his own humour.

"And review the Cyrinishad?". As he spoke, Talos moved for the first time to gauge Mask's response to the first shot of this confrontation.

"The what?" Mask tried his best to sound sincere.

"The book you transcribed to scrolls in order to convert powerful mortals to Cyric.  I know of your dealings and your grand plan." Talos accused.

'Well that's inconvenient', thought to himself. "That you think there is just one plan, is so naively adorable" Mask said with obvious condescension.

"M...a...s...k!" Talos said in along drawn out, rising warning. His fist clenching and spilling lava onto the floor as the sky outside the tower lit up with a simultaneous display of both thunder and lightning.

DM Don - December 25 - 2015

Connections - Midnight's Watch

For the third day in a row Ajeroth had memories of Rognar pop to mind, like a tune that he subconsciously returns to when not thinking of anything else.  No sense of urgency or danger had accompanied these images, but it had been a few years since the Heroes had travelled with Rognar, and Ajeroth couldn't think of any reason why he would have come to mind now.  He mentioned it to T'ycel who acknowledged that he too had been thinking of Rognar recently.  They agreed they should probably look him up after their first trip with the girls.

The girls, Chella, Arabella, and Drogroda - each a vessel of faith magic for a range of Faerun's deities, had been staying at T'ycel's grove.  A recent shared vision had notified the girls and Heroes alike that the first ritual was upon them.  The destination would be the Tower of Mysteries in Saerloon on the first day of Marpenoth.  There they would deliver the first of the Faith Magic energy from the girls to the clergy there. After some discussion the Heroes had agreed that taking Mystra's Gift made the most sense, as did arriving a day early.  The plan worked perfectly but their efforts to be discrete were foiled almost as soon as they docked.

A senior priest of Mystra named Detrojian was there along with a dozen acolytes and the Overcaptain Burinta Shammarcron with her cadre of “Helms”, to welcome the Heroes.  Detrojian sent the apologies of the Lady’s Mage Cadellin Firehands, as he could not be here in person to greet them, but he assured them that the church of Mystra did not overlook the significance of their arrival, especially Her clergy.  He wanted them to know that this was the highest honour for him and that this day will become a recognized holy day in Saerloon.  The initial pageantry was kept to a minimum and Overcaptain Burinta Shammarcron made a simple request "all I ask is you try and save the cataclysmic stuff for another city", to which Fafhard diplomatically replied, "No guarantees".

DM Doug - December 09 - 2015

Connections - The Vanguard of Argus

The rolling deck of the Flag Ship Valiant had become a necessary friend to the Knights and Soldiers of Argus on the long journey home from Impiltur, across the Sea of Fallen Stars. The men were in good spirits after the hard won victory in that distant Kingdom. The survivors celebrated even as they mourned their comrade’s deaths on the field of battle. Amongst it all they dreamt of their homes - families, comfortable beds and fine drink.

The High Knights and their friends spent many evenings huddled together in the cramped space of a cabin on the Valiant, lantern swinging above a roughhewn table, discussing matters important to the Order; their respective gods; the Heartlands; and Faerûn in general. A Darkness had crept in upon the world, unseen for what it is to most, but to those with the knowledge to see it, evil lurked behind the many maladies that have befallen the Eastern Heartlands. These events are as a harbinger to the coming war. Each of them felt it in their bones, this sense of dark prophesy, the growing threat of the Dark Ones return.

The unprecedented events of the last few months hinted at dark powers walking the world, spreading their strife. Plagues, Pestilence, unnatural weather, and catastrophe seemed as the fury of chaotic deities punishing Faerûn for its ignorance and insignificance. As if infectious - nations skulked and postured amongst themselves all across the realms – uncertain; consolidating themselves at the expense of their neighbors; straining against centuries old borders. A palpable tension hangs taut as a lyre string, ready to snap. This is the world that the mighty heroes of the Impiltur war found themselves returning to.

DM Don - December 09 - 2015

Connections - The Vanguard of Argus

In his eternally curious manner, Erikk Drarr had decided to spend a few weeks travelling around the Moonsea region.  In fairness, he had heard about some interesting goings-on and was looking for a somewhere other than Cormyr to hang his lute for a few weeks.  This may have been for the change of scenery he espoused to his regular patrons, but a few jealous men-of-means may have influenced the decision more than Erikk was willing to admit.

Spending a couple weeks in Hillsfar gave him some flavour for the region.  He had quickly become a hit at a few excellent establishments that bid against each other for his services.  The paranoia around Hillsfar was rampant and even members of the Red Plumes seemed to be treading lightly to avoid attention from the mage Maalthiir.  Everyone knows that great wizards walk the line between omnipotence and insanity, but whispers around the city belied a deep concern as Hillsfar's fortunes are inextricably linked to its arch-wizard.  Although Erikk was enjoying the fact that his skills were greatly appreciated by the locals, incidents of public torture and a handful of executions was wearing on him.  Confident that if he stayed much longer he was going to say or do something that would lead to serious trouble he decided to move along to Zhentil Keep.

Only hindsight would tell Erikk that he had thrown himself out of the proverbial frying pan.  Zhentil Keep was undergoing its second major purge of Banites in as many years.   Apparently Cyric felt like it was past time for them to fall in line.  Also concerning was the disappearances of followers of numerous goodly religions, from all over the Keep.  Rumour had it that it was a dangerous time to be anything but a Cyricist in Zhentil Keep but that didn't last for long.  A huge army descended on the city led by a vanguard of frost giants on the ground and white dragons in the air.  Unlike the Inquisitors they were far less discriminating in who they killed.  The Zhentish army, famed for its discipline, had to try to hold together without its officer corps as they deserted when the invaders made contact with the north wall.  The remaining soldiery did the best they could under the circumstances but the next few days were marked by blood, chaos and fire on a scale never before seen in the Moonsea.

DM Don - November 16 - 2015

Connections - The Crimson Reavers

One final evening performance at the Pair'O'Dice and then the Reavers were planning to get back on the road (or river as it were).  They offered a word of thanks to the rest of the Burr family for the hospitality, and lastly goodbyes to Nana who was upstairs sewing with her friends.

"Look what I found." Nana Burr declared proudly when the Reavers entered, indicating Grayel dressed formally in a nearby chair.  "Cleans up pretty good, eh? And she's pretty handy with a needle too."  Grayel clearly, had been subjected to the same indoctrination that Alea received only days before.  After some unsolicited advice for each of us, she thanked us earnestly with a tear in her eye for having solved the mystery of the Ghostship and within the hour we were on our way.

Getting back to Shadowdale was a luxury cruise, using the Spirit of Vengeance and her crew to sail up river, setting camp and phasing the ship in and out to portage.  The Crimson Reavers decided to take advantage of the ships capabilities and take an un-sailable path home.  The first leg up the River Arkhen took two days and nights given the rather lackadaisical pace and was marked by an equal balance of gaming, music and drinking.  Archady and Gar spent some time sparring, although they called it "trying on their swashbuckle".  The sparring barely lived up to the name as both were still recovering from the touch of the wights, which had left them feeling distinctly drained.  Gar had it worse again, as the severe achilles injury he had sustained still left him flatfooted, although his limp had become slightly less pronounced.

DM Don - September 04 - 2015

Connections -The Daggerford Dozen

Thorvoldd and Torin

Shortly after the bloodbath in the Gaols of Illefarn, Jadarl had dropped Thorvoldd in Waterdeep and Torin in Elturel before connecting with Abstract to catch up on some long overdue studies.  Torin consulted the upper echelons of the Church of Helm and the Order of the Black Shield, providing them an update.  Recent revelations, centering on Grim Tabor and the discovery of the Shield sent repercussions through both of these organizations that will take time and deliberation to be fully sorted out. Torin then made haste to update the Order of Argus with the same information, catching up with them in Thesk. 

Thorvoldd made his rounds in Waterdeep asking for any details pertaining to Reghed.  Elient and part of Marpenoth were spent waiting for results while the scholars dug through their respective sources, during which Torin returned from his travels in the East with tales of war in Impultur. Although a sage named Veltripar the Insightful was able to find reference that the glacier had in fact been named after an individual, the only details were vague, archaic references to an ageless lord, who had complete dominion north of the Spine.  In the interim Thorvoldd made the short ride south to Daggerford and updated Gem and Jade as to recent events.

Once reunited in Waterdeep, Thorvoldd and Torin did spend one day at the Jade Jug, but it became obvious that Torin was uncomfortable with that degree of decadence and they relocated to The Dozen's Castle District home.  Making the best use of the time Torin made a few divination attempts and contacted members of his church in Waterdeep for any insights.  The commune spells were able to provide some information, although still cryptic.  Destroying Reghed is aligned with Helm's wishes as he is responsible for the advancing glacier.  Reghed is some form of undead, but not an easily categorized one.  He was not on Torin's plane at the time of the commune.  Reghed has a number of very powerful outer-planar allies, these include lower-planar but not exclusively. He has a stronghold on this plane. Despite using multiple communes to glean all of this information in a relatively short time frame, Helm or whoever was answering the communes on his behalf did not refuse aid, as sometimes occurs when powers feel they have extended enough guidance.

DM Doug - February 13, 2015

Connections - The Knights of Argus

Prophecy.  (noun, plural prophecies.)

1. The foretelling or prediction of what is to come.

2. Something that is declared by a prophet, especially a divinely inspired prediction, instruction, or exhortation.

3. A divinely inspired utterance or revelation: oracular prophecies.

4. The action, function, or faculty of a prophet.

Prophecy - The foretelling of what is to come.  Even Prophecies from the ancient past, although hidden in the recesses of time and forgotten by mankind, they have a way of making themselves known to those whose purpose it is to serve – seeping up through the crevasse of time to reveal themselves at the appropriate time; even though they may not even be aware that they are serving a mysterious and higher purpose; this is true no matter which side of history you may stand on…

                                                                      * * * * *

While a golden chalice awakes with the divine power of heaven far to the west, in northern Cormyr, at the same instant, three Swords of Power begin to hum with energy in the distant land of Thesk.  Three Paladins are compelled to stop and draw forth their mighty Holy Swords – Each sword lightly humming, vibrating, giving off a brilliant golden glow and crackling with divine energy.  The Paladins are not all together in their camp as each carries out their duties, but the experience is shared none the less, as the Holy Swords of Power begin to speak; each with its own deep and commanding monotone, their voices heard by many within the camp who are nearby.

DM Doug - February 11, 2015

Connections - The Knights of Argus

A frigid blizzard blasts snow throughout northern Cormyr, blanketing the highways, roads, hamlets, villages, towns and cities in two feet of snow and huge windswept drifts towering against wooden cottages, palisades and stone keeps in equal measure.  The commoners would suggest that this is just another strange oddity in a long string of calamities that have befallen their personal worlds.  A snowstorm this early in the fall is not unheard of, though certainly rare.  But the harshness of its bite seems to add insult to injury to a people already suffering from plague and blight. 

Those special people, people who can look past the veneer of the obvious, see perhaps that the calamities and torturous weather plaguing the lands of Faerûn have a cadence of dark design to them.  This trifecta of troubles perhaps not so coincidental, in fact, precisely the opposite – Some dark, chaotic and evil force must be at work here and in other lands.

In a shuttered keep on a small Island in the Immerflow River, within the shadow of the Stormhorn Mountains and within sight of the twisted, snow blasted trees of the Hullack Forest - somber and purposeful priests of Tyr continue their work.  For the last couple of years these particular priests have been working steadily to uncover information and learn all they can about a holy artifact – The Holy Chalice of the Orachulum – Ancient tool of prophesy, plumbed from the long grip of time and carried forth from history to the present by a devout and wise servant of Almighty Tyr.

In its consecrated shrine the relic sits.  Few direct answers have been found regarding the device. That it is an intricately designed and decorated font, dedicated to Tyr, from an ancient time – there can be no doubt.  Its precise purpose - uncertain.  How to activate it - unknown.  These mysteries have been frustratingly elusive up till now - Until now.  On this storm swept, claustrophobic, dark day, with the atmosphere in the shrine energized with a deepening feeling of uncertainty, the chalice finds its voice and those assembled will speak of this day with reverence, touched by the hand of their god.

DM Doug - December 11, 2014

Connections - The Knights of Argus

The lands, cities and towns of Thesk were devastated by the onslaught of the Tuigan Horde’s advancement westward.  The people are just beginning to recuperate adequately from this event and have rebuilt much of their infrastructure. The government of this land is an oligarchy made up of the rulers of the trading cities along the Golden Way from Two-Stars to Milvarune which acts as a capital (mostly because it is so far removed from Thay). The nomadic tribes who run their flocks in the Thesk Mountains in the center of the land and the plains around the mountains also protect the cities by acting as a thorn in the side of any invading army from Thay. 

The KoA are met by representatives of each community individually as they progress through the land and are welcomed for the most part with cheers and adulation as they make their way east along the Golden Way. The intelligence is correct regarding increased banditry since the Tuigan invasion, especially in the easternmost areas of this land.  Different factions have been taking advantage of the situation and have been making regrowth that much more difficult in the region.

Gathering further information as they go, the Knights of Argus begin plotting out a campaign against banditry.  What they discover in the end is that the Tuigan presence is not as high as they had first suspected.  Most of the Tuigan survivors have gone back to their homelands, while only a small portion has remained.  This group was finally encountered north of Two Stars and they have coalesced under a new Khan (Khan Draygo) and have been operating as a decentralized roving settlement of Tuigan, their slaves and their women.  They have been preying on targets travelling the Golden Way in an opportunistic fashion.  They were met in battle and were crushed under the mounted offence of the Knights (Killed and/or dispersed).  Only 5 casualties and 2 deaths (1 from Galagus and 1 from Drake).

DM Don - November 11, 2014

Connections - The Heroes of the Godswar

As residents of the north, the Heroes of the Godswar are already well aware that things are terribly wrong.  Talk of in-fighting within the Lord's Alliance, has been drown out by daily concerns over food and refugees have begun to press against the walls of Silvery- moon and Waterdeep having already overrun Neverwinter.  Food riots have been on the rise inland as imports from the Moonshaes and the South are absorbed by Waterdeep.

A recent wave of unexplained illnesses has further taxed the priesthoods, given that many of the poorest are already dependant on them for daily food handouts.  Although not in great numbers thus far, sages are greatly concerned by the frequent failures of magical cures.  Last week there were many families preparing to migrate south them- selves until word came that many southern cities are facing similar circumstances.

The Uthgar are assembling in greater number than many thought existed, as they are forced southward by the relentless creep of mountainous glaciers. By all accounts, Ten Towns is completely lost, but Luskan seems to have been passed by, some reports say it is visible from the highest towers of Mirabar.  Also, what had been rumours of frost giants moving south, has become almost daily confirmed sightings by scouting parties and refugees alike. Speculation that the Uthgar and giants are in league is thus far
unfounded.

Last night...the latest of compounding problems...a nightmare in a foreign land to your waking mind...at home to your slumbering one...but so realistic as to feel premonitory and although you never see her, you cannot shake the feeling that you were there with Midnight.

DM Doug - November 02, 2014

Connections:The Knights of Argus; The Swords of Power; The Shadow Prophecies

Across the Heartlands a chill sweeps through the night air.  Babies cry out in the night and cattle stir within their pens.  Dark clouds move across the sky, obscuring the crescent moon as all living things are disturbed in their slumber by an  feeling of panic and despair.

In the small seaside town of Haven, on the eastern shores of the Dragonmere, a Lord sits staring into the depths of a failing fire.  His mind is troubled with thoughts of danger and his soul is shrouded in a constricting cloak of despair.  Across the great Sea of Fallen Stars, in The Vast, at a crossroads of a beleaguered trail, another warrior lord paces the flagstone hallways of a darkened keep.  His senses are assailed by a siege of overwhelming panic, his mind reeling with thoughts of ancient dark powers.  In the peaceful Kingdom of Cormyr, on a small island in the fast flowing Wyvern Flow River, a third Holy Knight is awakened by a feeling of impending doom.  He sits in bed wide-eyed and staring off into the darkness of his bed chamber wondering about the futility of life.  What sense all the great plans set for the future when one may surely die on the morrow.

Three Swords of Power, forged in an ancient and forgotten age, begin to hum with power even as their wielders are preoccupied with thoughts of darkness and feelings of despair.  They begin to glow with an otherworldly azure light - dimly at first, but growing into a crescendo of brilliance which bathes their chambers in awesome power, then as abruptly…….Darkness.

It is a time of awakening - a time where ancient things which have slept for millennia begin to stir within their cocoons; a time where an age old chalice begins to radiate with a diffused light and power, unbeknownst to its priestly caretakers; a time where ancient artifacts reveal new powers and memories long forgotten.  It is a time where mankind’s worst nightmares just may awaken to roam the world of mortal man.  It is a time of shadows……and mankind could not be less prepared.

DM Doug - November 02, 2014

Connections: The Knights of Argus; The Swords of Power; The Shadow Prophecies; The Crimson Reavers; Shadowdale Adventure

*This is a memory as transcribed and translated by the eminent Sage - Elminster of Shadowdale to the Crimson Reavers.  B'aalzemon's dialect is in ancient Netherise.  This has since been shared with the Knights of Argus as well. 

*(Drow Priest) "Great Queen, we have done your bidding and brought forth your instrument of power, as you have commanded".

--The shadowed form kills the Drow Priestess without speaking.

*(Drow Warrior) "y...you are not a servant of Lloth at all!!!"

*(B'aalzemon) "I do not worship your pitiful Spider diety, I serve a far greater Master". 

--He calls forth his scyth and slays all of the drow, absorbing their essence.  Then he turns his attention to the group of dwarves.

*(B'aalzemon) "Dwarvessss.....I shall drink of your souls and gain the strength I need that these pitiful elves could not give me"

--He tosses Flannigan aside with hardly a glance and proceeds to suck the life force out of the dwarves.  He pauses to gather their strength.  Upon hearing Simon's screams, he seems to notice the PC's for the first time.

*(B'aalzemon) "Mortal humans....... The pitiful stakes for which this game is played.  Will you offer more of a challenge this time?"

--He pauses and cocks his head as if in curiosity.  Perhaps waiting for a response from the party.

*(B'aalzemon) "You have even forgotten the language of Bar Teth in your ignorance.  Can this irony be more complete?  I shall enjoy the drinking of your souls".

--He attacks the PC's but is stopped by a magical barrier (Unaware that the Seal of Bar Teth protects them).  He paces about the confines of the PC's Shield.

*(B'aalzemon) "Chrysomer, you are long since dust and I yet live on eternal.  Your law and goodness has turned to ash along with you.  The Dark Ones power is far greater than that of your mewling whelp of a diety.  Even Bar Teth's magic has grown weak and brittle with age and soon your beloved world will know fear and despair in ultimate chaos.  I am but the first of many to be awakened from my sleep by the failing magic of weak minded Bar Teth.  I....."

--He pauses mid sentence, as if listening to a far away voice.

*(B'aalzemon) "There is another...."

--He wheels about and calls forth an obsidian black warhorse of demonic flame and a red glowing portal appears beside him.  He mounts the horse then He turns to the PC's and speaks to them directly.

*(B'aalzemon) "Do you even realize your peril?  Can you perceive the destruction of your world? The Dark One returns and he brings darkness and fear to shadow your souls.  You have forgotten the teachings of your ancestors and that shall be your peril."

--He clenches his fist and destroys the obsidian fragment (Seal of Bar Teth) at the feet of the PC's, then abruptly rides through the portal.