Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
KoiPwned

Expedition to Castle Ravenloft

Recommended Posts

Expidition to Castle Ravenloft

 

​By: Bruce R. Cordell and James Wyatt

 

Based on the classic ad​venture by Tracy and Laura Hickman.

 

Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Campaign Adventure.  Renton, WA: Wizards of the Coast.  2006.​

​

post-12292-0-36504500-1441118039.jpg

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Of all that has happened in your life, you are certain you've never experienced so much gloom.  It has rained for...how long?  Days?  Has it been weeks?  The grey of the weather thickly blankets every corner of the Weary Horse Inn and it seems to be settling over your mind as well.  Like a thick wet blanket it drapes everything in a depressing aura that seems to be the permanent countenance of the people in this part of the world.

 

Barovia.  Is that what they called it?  The innkeeper has barely said a word since you arrived, only shuffling around, answering questions in low-often unintelligible-mutters if pressed.  His services are sufficient, although he rarely even makes eye contact.  You've seen so few locals since you took shelter here, that you're beginning to doubt that any come here at all.  There is the handful of other guests, though.  All foreigners; adventurous looking individuals like yourself.

 

The Weary Horse sits alone on an old road, dreary and dilapidated in the middle of a wood that is every bit as depressing as the weather.  Somehow it manages to keep stocked in food that is good-albeit plain-and passable beds.  You're not sure why with how little business it seems to get, although you're grateful it does keep stocked now.

 

There's a reason you're here.  Why?  You can't remember.  Or...were you just passing through?  Being trapped inside for so long does strange things to the mind.  The weather makes traveling the sloppy road dangerous, though, and it would be best to wait until it clears before attempting to leave.  In the meantime, perhaps it would be good talk to the other patrons.  Some social interaction might do you some good...

​

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

At a corner table sits a reasonably tall gnome - he might actually measure three feet and a half - clad in what looks a bit like an outlandish take on some kind of officer's dress uniform.The centerpiece thereof is a dark blue vest decorated both with silver embroideries and assorted black leather straps with brass buckles, as well shoulder straps that hold black epaulettes and seven tiny silvery stars each. Compared to that, both the black leather breeches and boots with slightly too many decorative straps and clasps seem downright sensible, quite unlike the wide-brimmed black hat with a red feather that feels like something kids would consider proper attire for a pirate captain. This is contrasted by stylish velvet black gloves, which give the impression of a sea of stars swimming in the material. Considering the rest of the getup, the white leather belt with a rapier dangling from it seems rather fitting despite the blatant color mismatch.

 

The gnome's attention seems utterly divided between an attempt to attentively take in the room and impressions of the other patrons and a fascination with some document bearing a waxen seal, which he keeps studying over and over again, almost like it were a life-line to whatever kind of existence he led before getting stuck in this dreary place and weather.

  • Like 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Resting by the fire, in a long oilskin coat and hat a youngish man sits reading a small red leather book with another open and turned on his knee.  His demeanor seems both excited and dulled, as if he expects something to happen any time, but it hasn't for a while now.  when a door opens, be it the outside or the bar, he will start look around excitedly only ensuring to keep his eyes shrouded.  Then, not seeing what he's looking for, he will settle back down and return to his books. 

 

Every once in a while he will look from one book to the other and mark one of them with a charcoal stick.  Other than a page turn or the scratch of charcoal on paper, he doesn't seem to make much noise or movement

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A 'tall' dwarf is at the bar wearing regular clothes, and is only armed with a dagger. His renesance blouse is bright orange, very Lacey, poofy cuffs that over hang his hands. He is wearing black leather pants that are form fitting. His brown hair is neatly braided in small braids all over his head. His beard is neatly combed, straight and long down to his belt.

 

He's been spending most of the evening trying to find drinking companions. Every new partner he tried to befriend his eyes begin hopeful, and turn to sadness as the company doesn't turn out.

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

He eventually sees the gnome, sighs quietly, walks up to the gnome, "my good gnome, the night dreary, and the pub quiet. My I buy you a drink and sit a while?"

Edited by davor
  • Like 3

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The gnome, having paid more heed to the paper before him than his surroundings just now, looks up from his document. Realizing he is being addressed by someone short enough to presumably be civilized, and possibly even appreciate good tinkering, his face brightens up. He responds in proper Dwarven, "Greetings, good sir, and certainly I shall share a drink to your good health."

 

He then shrugs slightly, adding in Common, "I'm afraid though the bitter-sweet brew they serve here can't hold a stick, let alone candle to proper dwarven ale as you'd be wont to have in Thorbardin. I'd love to offer you some of the good stuff, but I'm afraid I ran out of my meager stock weeks ago. I could share some dried SpaHam though, if you have the taste for it."

 

"Oh, but where are my manners. Do take a seat, of course. And while I'm on the subject of manners already, a pleasure to meet you. Notal Akhmee at your service. Acting Lord Admiral of the Gnomish Space Marines, Planetary Landing Division, as it were." This apparently reminds him of his document, which he now hastily, yet carefully rolls up and stores away in a scroll case.

 

"I'd ask you if you bring exciting news of the outside world, if I reckoned there was even so much as an outside chance of that hereabouts. As it were, I guess I should rather inquire if a little ditty might help alleviate the oppressive mood this weather and place tend to put people in. Maybe a classic dwarven drinking song? Of course if you'd rather, my repertoire also encompasses elven love ballads, human seaman's chantys, giff battle anthems or, I kid you not, an ogre lullaby. Which actually does sound a lot like a drunken bar brawl cheer if you don't happen to speak the language, so perhaps that one would be unadvisable. But other than that, it's pretty much pick your poison, as they say. If there's anything in particular you'd care to hear, as and I shall try to oblige."

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Listing to this exchange brings a knowing smile to the face of a nearby human, as if he is remebering other days, and other drunken singing sessions.

 

He is small for a human, and his clothing trousers, shirt  and cloak are all dark greys and greens which seems to make him blend into the shadowy nook in which he sits. The nearby patrons nervously check their belongings, and try to keep an eye on him at all times. They hope he is a thief, but fear that he may be worse. The fact that they have noticed him at all though means that tonight he is not working. Tonight, after all, he wouldn't want to try to disappear into the night with anything. Not in weather like this.

 

His bright blue eyes, perhaps his only distinguishing feature, take in the Dwarf and the Gnome from across the room and he considers for a moment going to join the possible merriment, but he decides to wait... Maybe after they have had a few more drinks, after all he know it can be difficult to join in if people think you are going to steal their gold.

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The fellow in the long trenchcoat, hearing conversation and at least a little levity puts his books into his deep pockets stands, and wanders over to the Gnome and Dwarf. 

 

"the food and drink are edible and filling here, but are as bland as the weather outside.  Did I hear you say you were from other places? My mistress bid me to step into the portal to this world, promising magic, adventure, and death, but so far all I have seen is boredom and rain."

 

"My name is Drall"  he raises his eyes to the dwarf who finds his face reflected in eyes of tarnished silver, unmarred by iris or pupil "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking and, since conversation can make even the most mundane ale well flavored, drinking with?"

 

looking over at the gnome "and please, no Orgish that language always sounds like you are trying to cough up a lung..."

 

"I was bid by my mistress to be here.  How did you arrive at this place so far from home?"

Edited by Kangaroorex
  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"I'm pleased to meet you, I'm Moradins servant, Brun Quicksilver. I don't really have a home, I just do his work. What do you mean about space landing? Aah, never mind.

Do you know that dwarven song about the dwarf miner king that found a Ruby fairer than the elven queen and bigger than a halflings stomache? Where the miner king was promised the elf princesses hand for the Ruby?"

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"This may be worth listening to..."

 

The music has started, thought the human. This sounds like something that may lead to an interesting opportunity. It's time to introduce myself.

 

He stood up and walked across the room to the increasingly large group.

 

"Forgive me good sirs, but I couldn't help but hear that you were interested in singing. It has been many months since I last had the pleasure of good wine, good song and good company. It would be most enjoyable if I may join you in your entertainment." He looked at his cup with a sour face, "while the wine may not be that good, I suspect the singing and company may be. I belive your voice may be perfect for singing 'The Corn Farmer's Cat' Master Dwarf. Do you know it?"

Edited by Number Six

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Notal ponders for a moment, then starts prattling at a hard to follow speed. Fast enough, in fact, one might wonder if he even has time to consider his words before they pour out. "Hmm, a song involving interspecies romance between a dwarf and an elf? Can't say I seem to know that one, and more's the pity, as certainly it would be most interesting to learn whether or not consummating such a marriage is indeed possible, and more importantly, whether it could lead to actual offspring. Oh my, the possibilities! A dwarven love for gold and jewels somehow bred into the same being as the natural innocence of an elven maiden, what a fascinating proposition. Actually, I really wish our xenobiologist were still alive to discuss that one, as a potential scientific explanation of the origin of the kender race."
 
He turns his attention to Drall. "Xenobiology reminds me, interesting eyes. You wouldn't happen to be a half-silver or anything of the sort? I really should love to meet a part-dragon sometime, preferably metallic of course, given the not-so-amicable nature of chromatics which presumably might carry over to any offspring born of a liaison with demihumankind. Or even humanoids. I wonder what an ogre lullaby would sound like if the mother was part green dragon. If one might hear the acidicity in her voice? But never mind that, much more importantly, you mentioned a mistress bidding you to come here. Would that, by any chance, mean you are aware of where exactly here is? I didn't quite catch that before I wound up here, myself."
 
He pauses briefly, then starts prattling again. "Oh, you did ask how that happened, didn't you? Now there's an excellent question, given how that's a most fascinating tale that I might actually want to write a song about, come to think about it. See, I, Notal Akhmee, was station on the Nuts and Bolts, that being the flagship of the Gnomish Space Marines, Planetary Landing Division, then still under the command of His Grace Lord Admiral Cogg, the most famed and notorious gnomish corsair ever to ply the space lanes, who took us on a secret mission of utmost importance that would take us deep into unknown and quite possibly enemy territory, which now that I come to think about it I might not actually want to talk about considering it was secret, I' definitely in unknown territory, and the weather at least seems as hostile as any, but I guess that's just as well considering Cogg hadn't actually filled me in on any details as of yet, presumably to ensure the secret remained secret, though that kind of spoils the telling, doesn't it?"

 

The gnome looks around expectantly, as though for some reason he thought this particular question really did warrant giving people a chance to reply.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Notal, I am afraid you will have to slow down your questions if you want us to have a chance to answer them.  My descent is not dragon born but divine.  My bloodline includes the servants of Pelor and my mistress rarely lets me forget this."

 

Drall pauses a moment to pull out the book he had been marking in:  "from my studies before i left, this is some form of pocket dimension and my mistress felt a strong pull to this place. She arranged to have a portal appear in front of me in the library and bid me to step through and find the source of this call, and preferably eliminate it.  She said there would be magic and adventure and much death.  the portal opened just outside this quiet little tavern and i have been going slowly mad with waiting ever since."

 

"As to your last question:  you, as the keeper of the secret, must decide where the secret will travel. You do not sound like you are used to being alone and without support although you have been in many strange situations.  I may be able to help you with your goals, but it would be easier if I knew what they were." 

 

"Now please, some music to add some cheer to this dark place.  Choose something that reminds you of home or wherever your heart is comfortable."

 

Drall turns to look at the small human  "Please join our group good sir, i welcome conversation as a light in the darkness.  I am Drall, the small fellow is Notal, and our robust friend here is Brun.  May we have the pleasure of your name?  eyes of silver flash in the humans direction.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

In from the dreary night walks a robed figure with a purposeful stride. Heading straight for the barkeep, it states in a harsh whisper, "Food, water," it points at the nearest unoccupied table, "there." You catch a flash of yellowed-parchment skin and bright orange eyes as it turns towards the table it pointed at. As it sees you, it turns back to the barkeep and states, "No, there," pointing at your table, then striding toward you.

 

"This one shall Join you," it states in the same harsh, monotone whisper. "There is Strength in numbers. In return you will Assist this one in Recovering the Silver Sword. This one is Lost here, Alone. This one became Separated from its Kin, and must continue with its Mission. This one," here it stumbles over a word, "...asks for your Help."

  • Like 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Sign in to follow this  

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

  • Similar Content

    • By Sanael
      OK, gang...I've made a few magic items and I thought I'd share, because I think they're neat, and because I'd like some help in pricing/balancing, etc.
       
      The game is D&D 3.5, so that's what I'm statting these to fit. Anyone who wants to is welcome to put together stats for these items in 4E, 2E, PF or GURPS (really, if nobody ports any of this into Savage Worlds I'd be surprised, around here) if you want, but I'd specifically like some help for 3.5. (Eberron in particular, but that hardly changes any of the numerical stats). Here goes:
       
      The large, flattened rectangle in the center of the thick-piled Aereni carpet belies the sarcophagus that so recently dominated this chamber. The vampire that dwelt here has obviously moved on, but she left a variety of items throughout the room. In one dimly-lit corner is a bronzewood writing desk carved in the graceful style of the elven homeland. Inside the hood of the desk is a writing tray laden with four vials of ink and a stand of four quills.
       
      The Ink:
      Black: Though the ink-pot is a beautiful piece of blown glass capped with a hinged lid of mithril-chased silver, neither it nor the ink it holds have any special properties. Blue: This ink-pot was cast using the lost-wax method from byeshk. The thick ink within is a radiant blue and was distilled from the blood of a Kalashtar before crushed lapis was added to give it its hue. Any words written with this ink bear a mild divination aura, and the author is given a brief view of the first person to read those words. (Think of this as a read-receipt on an email. The ink, when read, allows the author a moment of clairaudience, as the spell, giving them a glimpse of the reader. This effect only works once for a given body of text--you don't get a longer view of the reader if you wrote a novel instead of a sentence.) Red: This pot is carved from bronzewood, but has been coated in a dark stain that brings out the tight, shining grain and waterproofs the inside. Though blood-red, this ink has actually been brewed from a variety of berries and crushed bark, and snake venom. It radiates a faint magical aura, the result of a preservative spell preventing the ink from losing its potency. A deeper study reveals the ink is a potent contact poison that attacks the victim's nervous system.(Contact poison, Fort save DC 19. A successful save wards off the effects of the poison for one day. A failure results in 1d4 DEX damage and another save in six hours. This continues for 24 hours, with a cumulative +1 DEX damage for each successive failure in addition to the 1d4. This wasting is accompanied by a violent palsy, and casters take a cumulative +10% arcane spell failure chance each time they lose DEX in this fashion. The end result is a potential 4d4+6 DEX damage and 100% spell failure in a 24-hour period) Green: The smoky glass of this bottle is just transparent enough to show a viscous liquid within. The ink itself is a bilious green that dries to the color of a rotting olive on the page. It was, in fact, distilled from the stomach of a Gibbering Mouther.Anyone reading the words written with this ink must make a DC 18 Fort save as the words begin to smoke, emanating a damp green haze. The haze burns slightly, inflicting 1d4 HP of acid damage; a failed save also means the reader is blinded for as long as the book lays open plus 1d6 minutes. In addition, if anyone attempts to use the written words as a focus for any divination magic on the author, the diviner must make a DC 14 Will save or suffer the effects of a Confusion spell for 1d4 minutes.  
      The Quills:
       
      Green Jay: Made from the tailfeather of this brightly-plumed jay, this quill has a particularly fine nib, but is too short to be particularly comfortable in the hands of a human. The smallfolk--gnomes, halflings and goblins--could certainly use it, and an elf's nimble fingers could manipulate this quill easily. Aside from the odd size, this quill is unremarkable. Crow: Writing with this quill draws the user's blood through the nib. Writing more than a few words drains 1d4 CON per page written, and the pen gives the impression of being thirsty; once it has started to drain CON, it will take its fill, sometimes leaving large blots of "ink" spattered on the page.(mechanically, the threshold of written words before the pen starts draining CON is up to the DM, Flavor-wise, I see this as a pen made for signing contracts; a savvy magic user will realize that, although there is no magic that binds a signatory to his contract in this pen, having someone's signature written in their own blood would make it very easy to scry on that person. The blood-spatter on the page is something I came up with for when a player inevitably tries to reduce the drain by dropping the pen; once it's been determined that the pen is taking a page's worth of blood, it will take it even if the writer doesn't complete the page). Eagle: Made from a great raptor's pinion, this quill endows an author with a confidence in her written words. Those who read messages written with this quill are much more likely to believe what they read.(An author makes an appropriate CHA check while writing with this quill; what kind of check depends on the content of the written word, but either diplomacy or bluff could be appropriate. Anyone reading the original writing--copies don't work!--must then make a Will save, DC the author's check. Failure means the words written bear considerable weight and seem wholly accurate. This is not a compulsion effect; one could not write a command such as "jump off the cliff" and expect it to be followed. This is more like what you feel when reading a trusted periodical or a textbook, backed up by magic. A clever player might write, "jumping off cliffs is no more dangerous than walking to the tavern, and considerably more fun," and a particularly impressionable reader may decide to give this new pastime a try. The ultimate result, which is hard to put in concrete game mechanics, is that a failed save makes the author's words seem very true or "right;" there's just no reason to question these words.) Owl: This quill, a bright white with dark bars, draws the user's blood into the nib as well, but only if in the hands of a magic-user, and only if used to scribe spells into a spellbook or onto a scroll. In other situations, it works like a normal quill, though it almost seems to repel ink, running dry far more quickly than it should and scratching heavily on the page. When used to its purpose, it writes smoothly and easily.(a magic-user may scribe spells with this quill, but will take 1d4 HP damage per spell level scribed. At the time of writing, the author should make a caster level check for each spell scribed. The benefit of this is that anyone other than the author attempting to use the written spell must make a Will save vs the original caster level check in order to read the spell correctly. Failure means the text reads as something rather mundane that is quickly forgotten. The flavor here should be that the text doesn't appear to be code on a failed save, just uninteresting.)  
      Soo...thoughts? I'd like to hear anything anyone thinks. My biggest sticking points right now are the save DCs and numeric effects of the red and green inks (the red is pretty nasty as it stands, and the green is pretty pumped up from the Gibbering Mouther from whence it came), and the size die used for the blood drain effect on the Owl quill. Really, any numeric/die values are a little iffy to me. I fly pretty casual as a DM, often my DCs during a game fluctuate based on my gut, so putting together hard stats with a good balance isn't the easiest thing for me to do. Also, what would you expect a purchase price to be for some of these?
  • Who's Online   23 Members, 1 Anonymous, 42 Guests (See full list)

×
×
  • Create New...