- Joined
- Aug 12, 2010
- Messages
- 7,070
- Reputation score
- 192
Syndra Silvane looks over the adventuring party that had been assembled in her high class estate overlooking the Dolphin Bridge in Neverwinter. An aging mage with her best adventuring days well behind her, Silvane had long ago left behind the reckless and dangerous dungeon delving profession and used her gains to become a successful merchant. Unfortunately for her, she, like so many others in the adventuring community, had been afflicted by the Death Curse. Anyone who had ever been killed and raised from death through magic was now experiencing an unstoppable decay. To hide this, Silvane has taken to wearing a silver mask and covering herself up in bundled, hooded robes. Her voice is so raspy that it would be hard to determine her gender if it wasn't already known.
"All attempts to divine the source of this curse by magical means have been thwarted, but I have contacts with a knowledgeable organization. We have discovered that souls are being stolen all over the world. Anyone who dies, or who has ever died and been raised, is being pulled inexorably to the same destination. That destination, I believe, is somewhere in the jungles of Chult. It is a land that I have come to know in the past few years through overseas trade. At least, I know Port Nyanzaru well enough that I can use my magic to teleport us there. Somewhere in Chult, my contacts say that there is an artifact called the Soulmonger. It is what is collecting the souls. It is what must be destroyed."
Karl Landvik, the famous expedition planner and longtime contemporary of Silvane, was also suffering from this curse. He wrapped himself in a headscarf, but wore no mask, allowing his pale and ashen flesh, with terrible red sores and dying flesh being exposed around his bloodshot eyes. It was this curse that had brought him to Silvane today, along with the small band of adventurers beside him.
"Everyday, the curse drains a little bit more life out of us," Karl rasped in concurrence. "But it's not just a problem for those with the Death Curse. Anyone who dies is having their soul captured, no doubt for some dark purpose. Even the gods seem powerless to intervene, for no cleric spell can overcome the effects. whoever is behind this Soulmonger must be stopped. I only wish we had come to this conclusion and sent out adventuring parties sooner." The older explorer sighs heavily, then wheezes into a handkerchief, coughing up something vile.
Silvane shook her head.
"I *have* sent out other adventuring parties. I haven't heard back from them. Hopefully, you will succeed where they have failed. Karl and I have pooled our resources. We've given your party navigator the best map of the Continent we can give you, but the reality is, you'll have to do most of the inland exploring yourselves. The jungle is an unforgiving place. Wild beasts, goblin tribes, cannibals, and most certainly the undead plague it. Not to mention that it is vast wilderness, and you will need water and food rations well stocked in order to survive. The plantlife, the insects, and various diseases can also be deadly. But if you succeed, I'll make certain that you are all compensated appropriately. I have money enough, but you may prefer some of the rare magic items that I have housed in my collection. If you are successful in saving my life, then you can have your pick."
After any lingering questions, Silvane stood up and looked at everyone. They had been asked to arrive in their gear, ready for travel. And they all were, at least well enough for typical road travel. They may decide that they needed more equipment once they got to Chult - which would be in a matter of moments. The wizard had drawn a sigil on the floor in the next room, and her ritual casting of a teleport circle was prepared. With an extended invocation, Silvane and the adventuring party were whisked away across miles and miles of land and sea.
~~~~
== DAY 1 ==
The adventuring party appeared once more, now in a tropical city under a blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor - the creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones - mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharf-side smells of fish, tar, and canvas. Beyond all of this, the city (Port Nyanzaru) seems like an explosion of color compared to Neverwinter.
The buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange and salmon pink. Some walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers, or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrils in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in capes and feathered hats race past the group, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stoms and roars behind them. The whole city appears to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing and singing.
Along the piers behind them, the party saw trade ships with bright billowing sails being unloaded by intricate pulley systems, with their wears being settled onto the backs of gigantic lizard beasts of various size and descriptions, which the visitors had never seen before in their lives. This place truly seemed otherworldly.
"I recommend you find lodging while you remain in the city," Syndra said. "The city has two inns of good repute. The Thundering Lizard is cheaper, larger, and more raucous, but it's certainly a place for travelers and gossip. If you're willing to spend the coin, Kaya's House of Repose is best for a good night's sleep. Both are located near the Red Bazaar, which is the place where most locals go to buy and sell goods. I intend to stay with one of the seven Merchant Princes. Wakanga O'tamu is the prince associated with lore and magic item sales. He and I have a good relationship, and his villa will be as good a place as any to rest and wait for either death or salvation. You had all better take care. Be swift, but be safe. You'll do no one any good if you rot in an unmarked grave in the jungle."
"All attempts to divine the source of this curse by magical means have been thwarted, but I have contacts with a knowledgeable organization. We have discovered that souls are being stolen all over the world. Anyone who dies, or who has ever died and been raised, is being pulled inexorably to the same destination. That destination, I believe, is somewhere in the jungles of Chult. It is a land that I have come to know in the past few years through overseas trade. At least, I know Port Nyanzaru well enough that I can use my magic to teleport us there. Somewhere in Chult, my contacts say that there is an artifact called the Soulmonger. It is what is collecting the souls. It is what must be destroyed."
Karl Landvik, the famous expedition planner and longtime contemporary of Silvane, was also suffering from this curse. He wrapped himself in a headscarf, but wore no mask, allowing his pale and ashen flesh, with terrible red sores and dying flesh being exposed around his bloodshot eyes. It was this curse that had brought him to Silvane today, along with the small band of adventurers beside him.
"Everyday, the curse drains a little bit more life out of us," Karl rasped in concurrence. "But it's not just a problem for those with the Death Curse. Anyone who dies is having their soul captured, no doubt for some dark purpose. Even the gods seem powerless to intervene, for no cleric spell can overcome the effects. whoever is behind this Soulmonger must be stopped. I only wish we had come to this conclusion and sent out adventuring parties sooner." The older explorer sighs heavily, then wheezes into a handkerchief, coughing up something vile.
Silvane shook her head.
"I *have* sent out other adventuring parties. I haven't heard back from them. Hopefully, you will succeed where they have failed. Karl and I have pooled our resources. We've given your party navigator the best map of the Continent we can give you, but the reality is, you'll have to do most of the inland exploring yourselves. The jungle is an unforgiving place. Wild beasts, goblin tribes, cannibals, and most certainly the undead plague it. Not to mention that it is vast wilderness, and you will need water and food rations well stocked in order to survive. The plantlife, the insects, and various diseases can also be deadly. But if you succeed, I'll make certain that you are all compensated appropriately. I have money enough, but you may prefer some of the rare magic items that I have housed in my collection. If you are successful in saving my life, then you can have your pick."
After any lingering questions, Silvane stood up and looked at everyone. They had been asked to arrive in their gear, ready for travel. And they all were, at least well enough for typical road travel. They may decide that they needed more equipment once they got to Chult - which would be in a matter of moments. The wizard had drawn a sigil on the floor in the next room, and her ritual casting of a teleport circle was prepared. With an extended invocation, Silvane and the adventuring party were whisked away across miles and miles of land and sea.
~~~~
== DAY 1 ==
The adventuring party appeared once more, now in a tropical city under a blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor - the creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones - mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharf-side smells of fish, tar, and canvas. Beyond all of this, the city (Port Nyanzaru) seems like an explosion of color compared to Neverwinter.
The buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange and salmon pink. Some walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers, or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrils in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in capes and feathered hats race past the group, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stoms and roars behind them. The whole city appears to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing and singing.
Along the piers behind them, the party saw trade ships with bright billowing sails being unloaded by intricate pulley systems, with their wears being settled onto the backs of gigantic lizard beasts of various size and descriptions, which the visitors had never seen before in their lives. This place truly seemed otherworldly.
"I recommend you find lodging while you remain in the city," Syndra said. "The city has two inns of good repute. The Thundering Lizard is cheaper, larger, and more raucous, but it's certainly a place for travelers and gossip. If you're willing to spend the coin, Kaya's House of Repose is best for a good night's sleep. Both are located near the Red Bazaar, which is the place where most locals go to buy and sell goods. I intend to stay with one of the seven Merchant Princes. Wakanga O'tamu is the prince associated with lore and magic item sales. He and I have a good relationship, and his villa will be as good a place as any to rest and wait for either death or salvation. You had all better take care. Be swift, but be safe. You'll do no one any good if you rot in an unmarked grave in the jungle."
Last edited: