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Lady Tam

The Kingdom of Mordant

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Alright folks! here is the very first posting! Mostly some information for you.  Will get the "start" of the game up before I head out to work today.

Legal Statement:

This game is being played using 3.0 and 3.5 edition of D&D, including the Player's Handbook, Dungeon Master's Guide and Monster Manual I & II, the various presitge class books All are copyrighted by Wizards of the Coast, Inc. Also available are micels. tidbits available to players under the open gaming licence.

 

 

 This is what you know:  A thousand plus years ago the Witch-King Khaldun came sweeping out of the North over the Great Barrier Mountains through Dhurla’s Pass. He led a mighty horde of orc, goblins troll and many other dark creatures. Caught off guard the races of Irien were driven like leaves before the mighty host. Finally after years of trying to battle Khaldun and his army separately the races of man, elf, dwarf, gnome and halfling united. Slowly the tide of war turned as the unified races combined their might and fought back. Towards the end a might battle that lasted months took place on the plains in front of Dhurla’s Pass as the army of Khaldun made one last stand. Great magics were unleashed that forever blighted this plain, giving the name the “Twisted Lands” for even to this day magic runs wild there still. As the unified race pushed the horde back into, through the Pass, back into Qhal The great mages and clerics of the time prepared a great magic. Using their combined magic, in a ritual that would cost them all their lives, they brought the mountains on either side of the pass down, and the ground up, creating a barrier as tall as the mountains, sealing Khaldun’s army behind the Great Barrier Mountains and in Qhal for all time.

  The armies of the unified races disbanded and returned to their homes. But the damage was great. Much had been lost in the longs years of the war. Great cities had fallen under the footsteps of Khaldun and his army. Civilization was in ruins; much history had been lost, much knowledge had been lost in the ransacking of the cities. People were scattered, many lives destroyed. Many of the greatest leaders had perished in the last Great Battle, and there was no one to pick up their mantle. To make matter worse, many goblins, orcs and other monsters hadn’t been driven back with the main horde. They slipped away and made their homes in the wilds and continued to harry the races of Irien, adding to the chaos. What followed was a long period of decline and chaos. Then about 500 years ago the people of Irien began to climb out of this Dark Age. Kingdoms were formed and new alliances made. One of the oldest kingdoms to come into existence was Mordant. Slowly other countries followed Cadwal and Renweth.

  Two hundred years ago the Great Goblin wars occurred. Scores of the nasty little monsters swarmed out of the hills and mountains.  They were driven back into the wilds by the new young kingdoms and their allies. Where they continue to skulk and harry the races of Irien.  Smaller border skirmishes with smaller kingdoms occurred. Slowly Kingdom’s like Mordant grew into large kingdoms that encompassed many hundreds of miles. 30 years ago a second Goblin War occurred in Mordant, it was frightening by all accounts, but the goblins never made it as far as the capitol city…they ransacked some towns and did some damage to the lands to the east…but they were driven back into Darken woods and the Great Barrier Mountains fairly quickly. Some chaos ensued afterwards, but things settled down quickly. Lately things have been rather quiet, aside from the random bandits and such.

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The capitol city of Riolan is built on the river Eran, at place where split and made a small island in it’s midst. (See map on web page) A fortified city it was built with defense in mind. Tall walls surround the city and the River Eran was diverted to create a wet moat around these walls. Castle Lirance, named after the first King of Mordant, dominates the city. It is a well-organized city, patrol regularly by the King’s patrols. King Cedrus is a just and good King and the people are happy under his rule.

  You have all come to Riolan for various reasons. Some of you, perhaps grew up here, others came seeking their fortunes. Needless to say, at some point in the last few days a man wearing the livery of the royal house gave you all a message. The message was a politely written invitation to the castle. No real reason is given, except that Castellan Lebbick wishes to speak with you. On the appointed day you have all shown up and are shown to a furnished room to wait. It is a well -furnished room; drink and food are served while you wait.

 

 (This is your chance to “introduce” yourselves. You can describe yourselves, make actual introductions, whatever. Whoever posts first will be the “first” person in the room. As each person enters a servant will come in and offer them drink and food. You are all told that “As soon as everyone is present Castellan Lebbick will be in to talk to you.”)

 

(FYI, just incase not everyone knows, Castellan is a title not a name.)

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A young man with seemingly perfect features enters the room. He is of medium height and build. His black hair is cut short and contrasts with his pale skin.

He has a finely crafted short sword strapped to his belt and an odd shaped case on his backpack. The sword has a golden cross guard in the shape of eagle's wings, and the pomel has a small ruby inbedded in it. His cloths betray his higher upbringing. The tunic he is wearing has small yellow and green flowered embroydery (sp?) up the chest, around the neck, and down the sleeves. His light green breeches and slightly looser than what is currently in fashion. he has several peircings in each ear, all of them silver. His hands bear several rings as well.

He walks over to the table holding the wine, takes several seconds to assess each pitcher before finely selecting one. "Last year's Merlot," he takes a small sip. "Excellent vintage." He then begins to talk of the latest fashions and hunting game birds with his father and retainers. to any one who will listen, his nose turned up the entire time. He soon relises the room has gone silent because no one cares. His face quickly becomes a most satisfying red hue. He hastily sits down and in the process, carelessly sloshes wine onto is tunic. He toughes the tunic like he was mortally wounded where the wine has stained it. He then takes off his pack and opens the strange leather case. He reveals a silver lap-harp of exquiset craftsmanship. It takes the shape of a female sprite. the bady forming the bow and the wings curving upwards to hold the strings. The young man plays several perfectly placed notes, touches the wine stain, and mumbles a small lymeric about silly children playing in the mud. After several seconds, the wine stain fizzles away with a loud audotory pop!

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A young male elf enters the room.  He is of medium height and slim build. His hair and eyes are dark brown.  He is dressed all in black,(leather pants, cotton shirt and cloak).  He is also wearing black studded leather armor, with a shortsword scabbard tied to his black leather belt on left side and light crossbow on the right. A dagger is strapped to his right calf.

 He looks around the room and introduces himself "I am Aramil Elvenstar, and I understand there is someone of importance that requires my presence".

 He looks around the room again, then helps himself to any Elven wine and bread that may be on the table.

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A thumping sound can be heard slowly but steadily approaching the room.  It finally stops outside the door, which swings open to reveal a stocky dwarf with harsh features.  His long red hair is tied into two braids, which hang down his back.  A beard of the same color covers his face.    

 

Armor made of multiple bands of steel covers his chest, and he carries a battleaxe, inscribed with with crossed axes.  The same symbol can be seen on a pendant around his neck.  A black cloak hangs from his shoulders.  He wears heavy boots, which must have made the thumping noise as he tramped down the hall.

 

He eyes first the elf, and then the human.  His lips compress into a thin line and he shakes his head.

 

"Do you two know why I've been called here?"  He thumps the head of his axe onto the floor and folds his hands atop the handle.

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(ooc: uh, I think we're all supposed to be here allready, So i'm going to cut and paste some stuff from my original post so that it's cronologicly sound.)

 

The man looks as if he was just woken up. "Forgive me, I was just day dreaming. I am Lucius Fairwind and I've been here for only a second or two." He walks over to the table holding the wine, takes several seconds to assess each pitcher before finely selecting one. "Last year's Merlot," he takes a small sip. "Excellent vintage. You must try the merlot, its simply divine." "Oh, excellent choice." To the elf's choice in wine like its some sort of major judgement of the elf's character. "The most wonderful melomels come from you elves." He then begins to talk of the latest fashions, the time he saw the castellanin person, and hunting game birds with his father and retainers. to any one who will listen, his nose turned up the entire time. He soon relises the room has gone silent because no one cares. His face quickly becomes a most satisfying red hue. He hastily sits down and in the process, carelessly sloshes wine onto is tunic. He toughes the tunic like he was mortally wounded where the wine has stained it. He then takes off his pack and opens the strange leather case. He reveals a silver lap-harp of exquiset craftsmanship. The harp is in the shape of a female sprite. the bady forming the bow and the wings curving upwards to hold the strings in place. The young man plays several perfectly placed notes, touches the wine stain, and mumbles a small lymeric about silly children playing in the mud. After several seconds, the wine stain fizzles away with a loud audotory pop!

Lucuis then begins to strum an elven hunting song on his harp. He stops singing after a minute or two and continues conversation. "So are you some sort of knave?" Lucius sneeringly says, making an assumption by what the elf is wearing (ooc: he is doing this in the most unsullting and rude manner i might add). "How delightfull." He says, oblivious to stinging remark he just made. "I've always wanted to mingle with the underbelly of society. Have you ever killed anyone?" Lucius says, his face filled with aprehension.

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(OCC, actually you are all coming in speperately. This is your chance to "get to know each other" and descripbe how your character looks.)

 

LT

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As this potential altercation is shaping up, a pseudodragon ambles into the room, weaving through the legs of whatever guards may be in the room.  If they do not scritch him behind the ears, which is his rightful due, they are dignifiedly hissed at.

 

"Ah, you must be the newcomers," the pseudodragon doesn't say, haughtily peering at them from his haunches.  "I am known as Archibald, mighty one and benevolent god of the royal household.  You may bring me pie and provide a sunbeam, as befits my station."

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"your guess is as good as mine." my stars, a dwarf! Lucius says to the dwarf. "Is is true dwarves are born out of stone and there are no women?" Lucius says, like a kid in a candy store.

As the psuedo dragon enters, Lucius stands up to bow to a creature of such high station. "Why you must be Archibold. I am Lucius Fairwind, Son of Marcus Fairnwind; holder of the goblet of fire and her Ladyship Lucelle Fairwind; maiden of the Standing Stones, son of the duke of the Emerald Seat; his high Peralandra, son of the great Prince Caspean; Keeper of the Book of Unfinished Tales and the liver of One Hundred Years of Solitude, son of his high Ernest Shepard; keeper of the treasury of Po`oh." Lucuis goes on for nearly five minutes, tracing his lineage to a time before such petty things as truth. "....son of the great Wolf Resche; weilder of The Amber Spyglass. I am honored to meet your aquatance and am sorry to say I have no pie fit for one such as you." Lucius says, his face growing red with breathlessness. "If it pleases you, I could recite a poem or play a tune upon my harp. A poor substitute for pie, but it is the best I can offer." Lucuis sits back in his cushy chair, tentatively waiting for the psuedodragon's reply.

 

(ooc: I should mention I was just glancing at my bookshelf before I typed this post and I believe some of the titles and authors stuck in my mind :D )

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"MMM seems like an oportune time to join the festivities," Reginald murmers to himself. From his shadowy perch on one of the roof rafters he gazes down at the assorted bunch wondering around on the floor. Rolling off the rafter, he catches hold with his hands and drops the four meters to the floor easily. [OOC will this need a roll?]

 

Catching the dumbfounded stares of the Elf, dwarf and human. His 6'6 of height placing him a head above the others in the room, even the elf. His tightly muscled frame clearly visible throught the loose, blue robes he is wearing. There is red dragon tatoo above his right eye.

 

"Hi I'm Reg any idea why we were called?" Raising one eyebrow at the talking foot stool, which is apparently a dragon. Not waiting for a reply the sits down cross-legged on the floor with his back to the wall, and starts a breathing exercise.

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A figure enters with sure steps. He is dressed in black and smiles ironically at the elf similarly clad as he greets with low bow, everyone in the room. He is not wearing armour under his leather surcoat, but is wearing a silver chain with a symbol representing Truth.

 

He raises a polite eyebrow at the winestain on the young player's shirt.

 

" A nosebleed, Sir? I hear such things are quite common at altitude, Sir. Perhaps if you lowered your nose somewhat it would not suffer so, Sir. Humility is seeming, no matter one's station. Humility and.."

 

He clutches the symbol in one hand

 

"...Truth."

 

He seems more sincere than sarcastic.

 

He turns again to the elf "Does the black attire symbolise vocation, committment, or good taste, Sir?"

 

He nods at the monk and the dwarf with respect and a smile, before falling into a deep genufluction before the psuedodragon.

 

"Oh Great One!" He intones, watching the others from the corner of his eye, "Behold, I am forewarned of your mighty presence, and bring before you the offerings of your most devoted servants in the castle kitchens!" He lays at the feet of the creature a cloth bag that appears to contain something with the shape and smell of hot Pie.

 

The player may be singularly unimpressed by the fact that this young man obviously spends his time loitering with staff and servitors. But it's down in the very guts of the castle or keep that the Truth lives.... if you can sift it from the gossip.

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Aramil glances over to the man in black and says "a little bit of each my friend".  He then glances over at the pseudodragon with questionable eyes.  Why does he like pies so much?   He then smiles and takes another sip of his fine elven wine.

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"Is it not only meet and fitting, but one's bounden duty to revere those of sugh stature with proper offerings, even of such pastries as befit a god?"  

 

The Pseudodragon, having not intoned these words, ambles over to the Truth dude and accepts the pie, with the air of a king recieving tribute from a friend.

 

"Your offering is acceptable, and well worthy of the one to which it is offered," Archibald does not gravely say.

 

With great decorum, he consumes the pie, and gives a deep sigh of benevolent contentment.

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MMM... a non-talking talking footstool, that is apparently a dragon. I wonder if he keeps your feet warm in winter thinks Reg to himself.

 

"Ah excuse me footstool," Reg states with a perfectly bland face, while still sitting "are you a messenger or the entertainment? I have already recited the first matra twice and I'd like to get the show on the road."

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