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The Fate of Werathus or, what's up with those spiders? a D&D 4E PbP Campaign.
Mr. Clark
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
THE FATE OF WERATHUS
RECRUITING OFFICIALLY CLOSED. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO APPLIED.
A Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition PbP Campaign for the PA forums. It is for three players. I may choose to petition for other players after the main group works their way out of Werathus and back onto dry land
Please note that stuff in here is generally of a darker tone than most D&D games. I’m not going to be sexually explicit (love scenes etc are done with good taste), but there is a fair amount of violence and all around hopelessness. Rewards, however, are big for accomplishing big tasks.
Also, keep in mind that this is intended for 1st level characters, as the encounters are scaled as such.
Note: Whenever I say "You", I am refering to the entire party, at least when i'm describing things. This may not be true for encounters.
It doesn’t matter now, but through some way, your contact within the peaceful Dragonborn empire of Kalthos has betrayed you, and you have found yourself bound to the massive ironclad trireme, the Voyandoi.
The vessel is against the waves, and is cutting a path through the briny waters of the Cartel Sea. You are forced to row to the tune of a cacophony of gongs, shackled to your oars and to your benches. Up and down the thousand foot long ship, whose weight simply shears waves and demolishes the abrasive wind, soldiers clad in ramshackle armor patrol, watching over you and all near you as they pass.
Occasionally they kneel over, and size someone up. Rarely, they will unshackle a sickly man or woman, and slit their throats without emotion or sympathy, and if they run they are quickly shot down by men with repeating crossbows. The corpses are dumped overboard, or taken below decks for another purpose that you do not know of. The rower is quickly replaced with someone from some decks above.
Thousands of you row, day and night, and you three haven’t seen repast or rest bordering a week now. You cannot sleep though, cannot show weakness, lest you be perforated or cut ear to ear. Your shackles are sealed without locks, some kind of magic only the guards can dispel. They are all orcs, the biggest you have ever seen, and they carry small blades and a variety of axes and ranged weapons.
You were a foolish new adventurer. You started out haughty, going to the Black Coast for your own reasons. Wealth, power, or something equal. That was a mistake. It was only the Voy Cartel that waited for you there, and they snatched you up quickly and you were sold to the highest bidder.
This sea is aptly named because it circles the globe, it is their highway. You are currently en route to your new masters, to think about your misery and work your limbs to the bone. You were told that a band of ogres has bought you, and you are pretty sure that they do not intend to free you after you meet with them. Ogres are funny like that.
The cartel is a federation of orcs and their human overseers, and they make their profit out of suffering. No nation in the world dares touch them, for they hold treaties with ancient, terrible evils; old gods and demons, dragons and wizard princes. They stay under the radar, and they conduct their grim business, up and down the Black Coast.
The ironclad is all you've known for the past week or so, and there seems to be no hope of escape. You know what they say, out of the frying pan...
This is my first time DMing, as well as my first time PbPing. Notify me if I’m doing anything unseemly or generally wrong.
DA RULES
Rolling: Orokos. Registration takes like, three seconds.
OOC/IC: Post IC stuff in the regular font, and OOC in Italic grey at the bottom of your post.
Character Sheets: As long as you can link it and it’s a legal character, and character sheet. No houseruled stuff. No Dark Sun freaky deeky telepathy crap.
Posting: I’d expect you to post once a day. If you’re going to be out, PM me with how much time we have to skip your turns. Yes, if a player is out they just sit there as if on pause, following the other player or players around like meat puppets and I will adjust encounters accordingly. If you disappear for more than three days without notifying me, I’m removing you, saying you were eaten by a grue or some whatever. I will replace you with someone they find or something.
Starting Out: Because of the situation, naturally you are not allowed to have any starting equipment, and each character is only allowed to have a maximum of 10gp starting…take a wild guess at where you keep them.
I will post a map including all the characters once I have enough people to start. The map will not update, it is merely a visual aid. It will change, however, with each new area or combat encounter to show positioning. I will add a character post once I have people.
THE PLAYERS:
Galinndan, Eladrin Predator Druid
Character Sheet
Jerros Marhardt, Half-Elf Inspiring Warlord
Character Sheet
Kam, Tiefling Battlemind
Character Sheet
PM or post OOC to sign up.
RECRUITING OFFICIALLY CLOSED. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO APPLIED.
A Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition PbP Campaign for the PA forums. It is for three players. I may choose to petition for other players after the main group works their way out of Werathus and back onto dry land
Please note that stuff in here is generally of a darker tone than most D&D games. I’m not going to be sexually explicit (love scenes etc are done with good taste), but there is a fair amount of violence and all around hopelessness. Rewards, however, are big for accomplishing big tasks.
Also, keep in mind that this is intended for 1st level characters, as the encounters are scaled as such.
Note: Whenever I say "You", I am refering to the entire party, at least when i'm describing things. This may not be true for encounters.
It doesn’t matter now, but through some way, your contact within the peaceful Dragonborn empire of Kalthos has betrayed you, and you have found yourself bound to the massive ironclad trireme, the Voyandoi.
The vessel is against the waves, and is cutting a path through the briny waters of the Cartel Sea. You are forced to row to the tune of a cacophony of gongs, shackled to your oars and to your benches. Up and down the thousand foot long ship, whose weight simply shears waves and demolishes the abrasive wind, soldiers clad in ramshackle armor patrol, watching over you and all near you as they pass.
Occasionally they kneel over, and size someone up. Rarely, they will unshackle a sickly man or woman, and slit their throats without emotion or sympathy, and if they run they are quickly shot down by men with repeating crossbows. The corpses are dumped overboard, or taken below decks for another purpose that you do not know of. The rower is quickly replaced with someone from some decks above.
Thousands of you row, day and night, and you three haven’t seen repast or rest bordering a week now. You cannot sleep though, cannot show weakness, lest you be perforated or cut ear to ear. Your shackles are sealed without locks, some kind of magic only the guards can dispel. They are all orcs, the biggest you have ever seen, and they carry small blades and a variety of axes and ranged weapons.
You were a foolish new adventurer. You started out haughty, going to the Black Coast for your own reasons. Wealth, power, or something equal. That was a mistake. It was only the Voy Cartel that waited for you there, and they snatched you up quickly and you were sold to the highest bidder.
This sea is aptly named because it circles the globe, it is their highway. You are currently en route to your new masters, to think about your misery and work your limbs to the bone. You were told that a band of ogres has bought you, and you are pretty sure that they do not intend to free you after you meet with them. Ogres are funny like that.
The cartel is a federation of orcs and their human overseers, and they make their profit out of suffering. No nation in the world dares touch them, for they hold treaties with ancient, terrible evils; old gods and demons, dragons and wizard princes. They stay under the radar, and they conduct their grim business, up and down the Black Coast.
The ironclad is all you've known for the past week or so, and there seems to be no hope of escape. You know what they say, out of the frying pan...
This is my first time DMing, as well as my first time PbPing. Notify me if I’m doing anything unseemly or generally wrong.
DA RULES
Rolling: Orokos. Registration takes like, three seconds.
OOC/IC: Post IC stuff in the regular font, and OOC in Italic grey at the bottom of your post.
Character Sheets: As long as you can link it and it’s a legal character, and character sheet. No houseruled stuff. No Dark Sun freaky deeky telepathy crap.
Posting: I’d expect you to post once a day. If you’re going to be out, PM me with how much time we have to skip your turns. Yes, if a player is out they just sit there as if on pause, following the other player or players around like meat puppets and I will adjust encounters accordingly. If you disappear for more than three days without notifying me, I’m removing you, saying you were eaten by a grue or some whatever. I will replace you with someone they find or something.
Starting Out: Because of the situation, naturally you are not allowed to have any starting equipment, and each character is only allowed to have a maximum of 10gp starting…take a wild guess at where you keep them.
I will post a map including all the characters once I have enough people to start. The map will not update, it is merely a visual aid. It will change, however, with each new area or combat encounter to show positioning. I will add a character post once I have people.
THE PLAYERS:
Galinndan, Eladrin Predator Druid
Character Sheet
Jerros Marhardt, Half-Elf Inspiring Warlord
Character Sheet
Kam, Tiefling Battlemind
Character Sheet
PM or post OOC to sign up.
They're just animals. How could they cut the power?
Mr. Clark on
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Posts
Reading The South: a timeline history of the southern lands by Paragon Cleric Relatus our year 2140 blessed, author killed by Voy Raiders in 2145 blessed.
Earliest Recorded Our Year: 1400OY. Any records before this time are lost to the sea, looters, bandits, or bastards.
Year 1400: Only the Kilmashi Trolls inhabit the region, and have so for many thousands of centuries. They have ongoing skirmishes with colonized insects (presumably larger in size than your average ant or spider) for what records show to be something like one hundred years. They establish a large foothold in what is the vast, steamy jungle of what is now called Kilmashi. They cut away vast swathes of land using enslaved lesser beings, and their own kind. They erect massive temples to heathen gods and large, complex cities. However, the harsh jungle still claims many lives on a daily basis. They are still the dominating force in the western jungles and outlying.
Year 1650: The oldest of Kilmashi sages (the ones that aren't bloodthirsty heathens) speak of a large landmass of (roughly translated) "not water" to the north. This must be around the time the Kilmashi started one of their many failed expeditions off the jungle continent. Thank Pelor they are so stupid, for they could have reached the northern lands by now blessed. The "not water" is the Silt Impasse, having just come up around this time. it does indeed still swallow any ships that try and pass through it blessed be Pelor.
Year 1672: A foolish wizard with a perchant for thaumaturgy leads an expedition of fanatics to the lands north of Kilmashi, and builds a settlement there, in what is now known as Silathrius. The settlement was known as Wintercrest Proper. One day, the wizard uncovers a gate to some far off realm, and according to records housed in Silathrius libraries, the moon was turned blood red and it rained crimson ichor for days. Those touched by the rain are turned into blood sucking heathens. This knowledge is second hand; I dare not go to Silathrius to find out the supposed truth. Pelor bless the city of darkness blessed.
Year 1700: Following a massive earthquake, common in the south for reasons unknown, the Ilos faultline is opened. This massive fissure is home to a tribe of primitive dwarves, supposedly down there before the quake even started. None of my cohorts or myself have ever attempted a journey down into this place, as getting down there is hazardous enough without dodging giant insects and serpents blessed.
Year 1827: By Kilmashi sages, and several other eyewitness accounts, a gigantic flotilla of hundreds of orcish and human designed ships are seen circling around the Cartel Sea before heading to lands in the south, near the largely uncharted wastes. This seems to be the first documented sighting of the Voy Cartel, the merciless band of pirates and slavers barely whispered about in the seedier taverns and inns i have been to in my travels.
Year 1910: The Dragonborn settle on the isle of Kathos, and erect cities and towns along the entire length of the island. There are rumors of conscripted help from the Voy Cartel, but these rumors are rumors. To the north of the Kathos proper, there is the Gathering tower, where all southern land Dragonborn are trained in the martial arts of their people. These Dragonborn have an interesting custom: When their life reaches its end, if they can help it, they are to travel to the isle of Kor'Rangtuks (Suicides) to do themselves in with a ceremonial knife. Supposedly there are millions of dragonborn dead there blessed, and the isle is covered in bones blessed. there is no shortage of cutlery there. Why this is is unclear, and all inquiries are shunned away, all letters on the matter rejected.
To continue my research, I should travel to where I can find the Voy Cartel's contacts, and start with describing their hierarchy first.
NOTE: The book ends here blessed. Author slain, blessed be Pelor.
http://www.dust514stats.com
The gong continues, you row, and you and two others, the people you have stared at for a week straight, are all that keep you company.
The freezing, salty deep sprays you with each new wave, each current you cross. The harsh noonday sun bakes you when you are not wet. It peels your skin back, and the brine in the water stings like a biting insect.
A large, grey orc passes you, stopping and facing you three, sizing you up. He snorts, a gob of milky snot worming its way out of his pug nose, which he scoops up with his wart-covered tongue. He chews on it for a moment and spits it to the side, chuckling.
He calls out to his cohorts and they approach him, hefting their weapons. He jibbers a short sentence to them in an odd language.
One of the orcs shoulders the others out of the way, a brute with raw, pus-filled scars smattered across his face. On his hip, he wears a large, cylindrical mace adorned with studs of hardened metal. Besides a loincloth, and the rope securing his mace, he is otherwise unclothed. He chews on a sharp, indistinct bone that is still wet with blood. He stares down at Kam, and puts his dirty, feces stained hands on his mace, moving it and jumping down into the space between benches.
His weight is audible, and the planks below you almost give way. He kneels down, so Kam's eyes are level with his. Slowly, he reaches up and stops Kam's rowing, holding the oar fast. The men behind and around you groan with pain, as their burden has increased, the ship's propulsion slowed. The orc begins chewing the thick bone, cutting his gums and cracking his molars on it, and marrow mash moves down his gullet. He flecks spittle and bits of marrow on Kam's face as he tenses to talk. His voice is deep and his breathing audible as he struggles to speak. He must think of the pronounciation carefully before structuring Common.
"You row long without stop, Tief. You are strong? I want proof. Tribe here says you beat me, you go free on big bird, fly wherever want."
He outstretches his arm to the blue sky above, squinting as he looks into the sun.
"I beat you..."
His arm snaps back, and he is pointing at Kam's face. He moves in closer. His dirty nail, yellow and caked with excrement, prods against Kam's chin.
"You die."
He lowers his arm, returning it to the heavy mace. He backs away, and his eyes dart around Kam's figure.
Before I make any sort of move or comment, I would like to know where I am relative to Kam.
I've uploaded my character to orokos
http://4e.orokos.com/sheets/2738
The grove seemed so far away now. As a child, he was given to his uncle to train in the ways of nature. This was done with all first born in his family. He was taught to absorb his surroundings and only act when opportunity presented itself. The first woodland creature who accepted him was a family of boar. Aggressive in nature, yet always aware of their surroundings. They only attacked when cornered. There was so much more he could have learned if he would have just heed the advice of his peers instead of trying to constantly prove his worth. Three weeks ago, he left the protection of the forest and wanted to explore the land. Unfortunately, being isolated from the outside world for so long, left him naive and inexperienced. This is exactly the reason why he fell for such an obvious trap. Did I honestly think any good could come out going to the Black Coast?
Before he could answer himself, he heard the orcs speak near him. He snapped out of his trance and looked over at the Tiefling and orc exchanging words. Amazing how this being can sustain his composure for so long, he looks unaffected by the elements himself.
Adjusting himself a bit, Galinndan stares ahead waiting to see the results of the orcs challenge.
I forgot to put this in my character sheet, but my wild form is a boar. I'm certainly flexible in changing this to meet the story however. Depending how long we adventure as a party, I would like to expand this in a bit of roleplay to do different forms. Of course according to the 4e rules, there is nothing that would change statwise, unles the DM wanted to add minor things.
Kam stands, shakily at first, but soon steadies himself. He spreads his legs to shoulder width, and holds out his shackled hands in front of himself, elbows bent, in an attempt to shame the orc into freeing him before the fight begins. All the while he keeps his eyes level, staring directly at the orc.
The orc is taken aback, but not entirely. He does not jump at the chance to set Kam free. He turns toward his tribe mates and grunts in that strange language. He gestures down toward the bottom of the ship.
"Tonight, Tiefling. In the iron bottom, where da boss cannot look. Below...decks. Keep rowing."
He climbs out of the row of benches, and walks on, his tribe-mates hollering and brandishing their weapons. In the middle of his long walk, he stops and unlatches his mace, holding the heavy weapon with one hand. He sharply pivots and swings downward, and an elderly woman's head explodes in a shower of grey and red matter. The swing continues through, spraying everyone near her with gore and catching the dwarf sitting across from her, knocking out his teeth and badly breaking his nose.
The dwarf passes out, dropping his oar. It rolls with tension, and slips away into the sea, rocketing off of the side of the ship. The orc admires his handiwork, before his eyes flare with anger and he turns on the dwarf. His stout body is pounded to a bloody puddle in seconds. he kicks at the corpses, and turns away, continuing on.
The humans in the lofts surrounding the rowing pits brandish their magazine loaded crossbows. A few cock their bolts, scanning for dissidents.
Everyone continues rowing, and you are left with your companions. Perhaps an introduction is in order.
He had regretted leaving his post at home. Why could he not just accept the command that was being offered to him? Would anyone have really thought that much less of him just because his father, General Marhardt, had lobbied so hard to have his son appointed? He had proven his worthiness for the appointment, but to Jerros it still stunk of nepotism. Suddenly, his grand plan to strike out and make his own name seemed less glorious than he had envisioned. How proud he must look now, in chains and rowing himself to his own death in all likelihood.
He watched the orc and tieflings exchange with great interest. His imagination at leading the slave revolt was running wild again. Being splattered with an old woman's brain matter quickly brought him back to the reality of the situation.
He whispered to the brave tiefling, "Surely you can't mean to meet him tonight. You realize there's no good ending in it for you."
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
He paused only momentarily before adding, "If we are to die here together tonight, my name is Jerros."
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
"I've seen this happen before" Says a voice, coming from behind Kam. "If you accept the big one's challenge, you do not return. That has been message enough in the past."
His accent rolls with an elven tone, plenty of unecessary L's. His voice is raspy and bitten by fatigue, just as everyone else.
"Do not look back at me. They have been watching you three for a while. As they understand it, or at least as the human slavers in charge of the damn orcs do, you are special. You three have determined resolve not seen in the others."
You hear him cough on the last syllable, and hack up a gob of mucous. He rattles his chains.
"I was a rabble rouser too, a runner. Jumped ship when they unshackled me to bring me to shore. They found me, as you can see. They always find me. As punishment, I am to row until dead. I have seen dragonborn and dwarves and eladrin, the most capable examples of each species, go down. Each time, the orc emerges with new scars, but is not dead. It is a hopeless cause. What opening there is, is paltry...very risky."
He trails off, as if remembering something.
"Indeed." He sniffs, and a wave smacks against the side of the boat.
Checking to see if our shackles are magical, or enchanted to prevent me from fey step.
Arcana: 1d20+8 21
You can see that the shackles binding you to the oars and the ship are not made of the usual iron or steel. The material appears kneaded into shape, not forged. The shackles bear small indents indicative of pushing or molding. You recognize an inscription, however tiny, somewhere on each shackle. You don't recognize the language, but attempting to read it makes you feel queasy.
Invoking any notion of transferring through the fey is met with a loud ringing in your ears, and a sick stomach. Magic is useless as long as you are bound in this manner. Any one of you may be able to dispel the enchantment if you are unshackled.
The man sighs. "They don't let you see the way down. Before you are unchained, they knock you out under false pretense of a killing blow. These orcs, they know all manner of battle, they are mercenaries. They are trained in...less bloody ways to take someone out, as well as more violent methods. If you can resist the blow, and feign sleep, you have a window. See what I mean, now? It is risky. Maybe you will die, either way. Maybe.
I have studied them for quite a while. This bloodlust they have...it is hidden from their human masters. The fighting is below and late at night so the masters will not see their unchecked rage.
You are like how i was, you and your two freinds. I don't care about my life anymore, but it would warm my dying heart to see a little dung-kicking around here."
The man clears his throat, and speaks up a little. You still cannot see who it is. "You two, the off-looking elf and the eladrin. Your freedom seems to depend on your freind. I hope he suceeds."
The unseen advisor is quiet again.
Insight vs old man: 1d20+5 14 to see if it feels like he is trying to trick me.
Turning back to the Eladrin and Tiefling, "I think our best chance may be to get more of us below decks together. When they come back for you I will do my best to rile them up and take me as well. How about you Galinndan, care to die below decks with us tonight?"
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
It does not feel like he is trying to trick you, but then again, you cannot read his face. He must be an outstanding liar; you can not detect a hint of sarcasm or bad intention in his voice.
Whomever he is, he remains quiet. He does not answer Kam's question.
Some time passes, and the rowing continues. The sky turns amber with time, and the hot sun casts orange light over the open sea. The water is calm, and several orcs pass by through the hours, some executing sick rowers with thick, sharp blades. The blood is mopped up by a cabin boy who does not speak to all who plead to him, thinking him solace because he is not a man yet. The arblasters up top remind him to keep quiet, and he eyes them with distaste, continuing on.
Soon, it is night, and stars dab the sky with their flickering sparkle. The moon is pregnant with a pale blue glow, and to your left, out of your immediate window, you can see several whales breaching the surface. There is very little light, only white, rice paper lanterns that hang down from the arblaster's posts.
In the distance, you see three orcs. The arblasters up top have begun to nod off a little, becoming less alert. The orcs approach, and the moon is high in the sky. The big, scarred one is in front, leading two brutes with animal skulls fashioned into helms and bone weapons.
He then begins speaking just loud enough for the approaching orcs to hear, "Here they come, tiefling. Here come those coward orcs. They can't be bothered for a fair fight, 3 on 3. It must take all three of them to kill one lowly wretched slave..."
Intimidate (+4)? 14
I don't know which is applicable...though from those epic rolls I doubt it matters.
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
The two bone brandishing orcs stay stoic as they move ever closer. The scarred orc in front hears Jerros, and smiles. He does not speak, but keeps his eyes locked on Kam. They are some feet away yet, however.
Bluff: 1d20+0 14
The orc and his cohorts keep walking, ignoring Galinndan. They are just about upon you now, and the grey one eyes Kam, cracking his knuckles. He grunts to the two orcs behind him, gesturing towards you. He then speaks just loud enough for the human arblasters above to hear, and in Common.
"Shame, that tief. Down with a horrible sick. Must be executed."
He wears a toothy grin.
Bluff: 22
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
The grey, scarred orc is upon you. He licks his lips and speaks in the odd grunting language favored by his peers, and the silent, bone armored orcs get behind Jerros and Galinndan. They wrap their huge arms around your neck and clasp a dirty palm around your nose, and begin choking the both of you. After a few seconds, your vision wanes, and your surroundings seem to rise above you, as your conciousness sinks downward. Your eyes dim, a jet black halo in your peripherals. The oxygen is leaving your body, and you feel an intense need to sleep.
"Sick is bad" says the orc. "Men and ogres pay plenty coin for slaves. Cannot give them men unfit."
The grey, sliced up orc brings his studded mace on high, and holds it with both hands, flexing to swing. He contemplates something, most likely aiming. He brings the mace down and catches Kam hard enough to rock him in his restraints, but oddly enough, there is no blood. Kam's eyes flutter, and he is slumping over, his body seizing rapidly. The human arblasters look away, disgusted by supposed impending gore.
The orc kneels over, and whispers. He does so under the guise of affixing his mace back onto the rope around his waist.
"If you want be dead so bad...i will give it."
I'd like you to all roll con checks to see if you stay awake.
Am I awake?: 1d20 7
Probably not.
Galinndan's eyes roll backward in his head, and he begins drooling. The bone orc behind him reaches down quickly, and with a pinching motion, turns his shackles to putty. They spark green arcs of electricity and ooze off of his person. The bone orc picks his dead weight up like a ragdoll, and slings him over his back, carrying him out of the rowing pit.
I knew I was treading a thin line with that last one. I figured it was a different enough situation (as opposed to rerolling a failed thievery check to unlock a door or something).
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Jerros, feeling his eyes shut, awakens resolve within him that he has not felt before. As the orc releases his grip, he is not passed out, but barely awake, although severely disoriented. His neck aches and throbs. The blood circulating throughout his body, he feels oxygen enter his lungs once again. It will take a time for him to get his strength back, but he is free if only to observe while the bony orc falls for the ruse, dispels his restraints, and picks him up, winging him around and carring him over his back.
The large grey orc pauses and looks up at the arblasters. He yells, his voice booming.
"We take dead down to iron parts! We feed beasts of burden!"
The humans wave him on, and he smiles again, moving to take Kam.
just waiting on dead to roll the con check, if you guys don't mind.
Edit: if you ever need to make a check like this for the game to move along I don't mind you rolling it for me if I'm not around.