A missive from Elminster to Clamiranha Dathrathi
Clamir,
You were right to bring this to me. That pompous windbag, Volo, couldn’t write a shopping list without over exaggerating the size of his gourds and certainly couldn’t be trusted with something like this.
I assure you your trade routes are in no danger from brigands from this so-called “Blackstone Keep” Have no doubt in my reading of this. סָעהובלה this here is where Volo messed up. It says she was transported, yes. But it also refers to the sea. She’s speaking of a sea voyage, obviously. This notion from Volo about a teleportation circle is preposterous. The fact that it was found by a caravan at the mound in the Aerilpar Forest is pure coincidence. There has been no active mage with the power to maintain a circle in that area for ages.
The contents are equally less consequential than Volo’s ego would allow to be penned. It's the somewhat mundane notes by this Tukham חוקרזר סיפורים a “story weaver” the characters indicate though she is an investigator or a detective of sorts. She goes on about how she was pulled out of the water by a trade ship out of this “Blackstone Keep” where the land and people were foreign to her.
They were obviously not so foreign they couldn’t understand each other, she comes under the employ of the local Warden along with her traveling companions who were sketched out in these other pages. Very curious, much like a wanted poster in these descriptions and the layout of the likenesses. A human male, Vanis. A halfling male, Chazz and of all things a Goblin? With a crossbow.. Named Hal. Absurd.
According to this account at the behest of the warden they stopped a caravan of orcs who were conscripting the local burrow of kobolds to pull this mysterious ore out of the ground. They at least have some sense to involve a local mage “Foxmore” into helping with the investigation of this ore.
It’s pulp fiction rubbish, worse than that its the chicken scratch notations on a fantasy novella of this “Detective” Tukham. The patrol must be particularly boring for this constable.
By the way you describe this carrier bird that was ferrying these scribblings, it is the only thing interesting about this whole situation. It does sound like an interesting puzzle for my inner taxonomist. Please keep it alive while I make my way.
Yours,
El
RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
Re: RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
In Homestead, a realm both strange and wild,
Four unnamed souls, in dawning light beguiled,
A blind elf, two dark elves, and a halfling small,
Adventurers cast into a fate's dark thrall.
Conscripted by the townsfolk, woes unspooled,
Goblins looming, their peace cruelly fooled,
They sought the aid of these wayward few,
A fellowship destined to cleave and slew.
But in the shadows, a bandit lord did scheme,
With gold's allure and a treacherous gleam,
He coveted a magical rock they bore,
Yet their refusal did leave him sore.
He hired goblins and bandits, a dark array,
To snuff out the heroes in the light of day,
But united they stood, their courage stark,
Defying the shadows in Homestead's dark.
In battle's heat, they drove the goblins back,
Saved the townsfolk from the goblin's cruel attack,
But the bandit lord, in cloak of vile greed,
Escaped their grasp with malevolent speed.
Blackstone Keep, his connection, his secret source,
The adventurers knew, of course,
That shadows loomed, and dangers yet unseen,
In Homestead's realm, betwixt the unknown and the obscene.
Four unnamed souls, in dawning light beguiled,
A blind elf, two dark elves, and a halfling small,
Adventurers cast into a fate's dark thrall.
Conscripted by the townsfolk, woes unspooled,
Goblins looming, their peace cruelly fooled,
They sought the aid of these wayward few,
A fellowship destined to cleave and slew.
But in the shadows, a bandit lord did scheme,
With gold's allure and a treacherous gleam,
He coveted a magical rock they bore,
Yet their refusal did leave him sore.
He hired goblins and bandits, a dark array,
To snuff out the heroes in the light of day,
But united they stood, their courage stark,
Defying the shadows in Homestead's dark.
In battle's heat, they drove the goblins back,
Saved the townsfolk from the goblin's cruel attack,
But the bandit lord, in cloak of vile greed,
Escaped their grasp with malevolent speed.
Blackstone Keep, his connection, his secret source,
The adventurers knew, of course,
That shadows loomed, and dangers yet unseen,
In Homestead's realm, betwixt the unknown and the obscene.
Re: RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
Case Number: 4532-907
Date: [Redacted]
Reporting Officer: Amba’tukam
Incident Report:
The Bandit lord's arrival had the feel of trouble in the making, the kind that curls in the gut like a bad meal. His offer wasn't just any ol' deal—it was for the stone, a piece so hot it could cook your brain just by looking at it. Then poof gone, left nothing but vague threats. So, our motley crew of adventurers, the type who'd probably get lost in a paper bag, decided to waltz into Homestead, thinking they could solve some graveyard ruckus.
At that graveyard, it was like a horror show in the making. A mammoth obelisk just burst from the earth like it was making an appointment with Hell, and wouldn't you know it, demons came crawling out of the woodwork, all drawn by that darn stone. And that's when I started asking questions, like maybe the big wig upstairs had taken an early lunch break.
After kicking demon butt and doing our heroic spiel, we head back to Homestead. But, what do you know? The stone's gone AWOL. Now it's the blame game. The new kid on the block, a halfling woman, got the target painted on her back. Just when they're ready to settle the score, a sequel happens: another obelisk pops up, more demons parade in. It's like a circus act gone wrong. And of course, my old question sprints back in: "Where’s the kitty cat when there’s spilled milk to be had?"
When that piece of rock comes back, peace and suspicion collide. We let the halfling in with one eye open and the other squinting. But Homestead's not done with their trouble. Now they're begging for help with gnolls—the kind of charming neighbors you wouldn't invite for dinner.
Off we trot towards Dunridge, find a rat's nest of a mine infested with gnolls. It's a grueling brawl, gnolls, bandits, demons, spiders—every critter's got a ticket to this fight. And by the end of it, I'm thinking I ain't got much faith left. But then, in the mess of the Spider Queen’s leftovers, there's a glimmer, a whisper of hope. Some other god's eye seems to be peeking, maybe keeping an eye on us poor saps.
See, this ain't the kind of story that ends in roses. Our heroines and heroes might've thought they knew their gods, but by the end of it, we're scratching our heads, wondering if the big shots above even care about the small fries down here. Just another day in the life, I reckon, where gods play their games and us folks down here do our best to make it out in one piece.
Date: [Redacted]
Reporting Officer: Amba’tukam
Incident Report:
The Bandit lord's arrival had the feel of trouble in the making, the kind that curls in the gut like a bad meal. His offer wasn't just any ol' deal—it was for the stone, a piece so hot it could cook your brain just by looking at it. Then poof gone, left nothing but vague threats. So, our motley crew of adventurers, the type who'd probably get lost in a paper bag, decided to waltz into Homestead, thinking they could solve some graveyard ruckus.
At that graveyard, it was like a horror show in the making. A mammoth obelisk just burst from the earth like it was making an appointment with Hell, and wouldn't you know it, demons came crawling out of the woodwork, all drawn by that darn stone. And that's when I started asking questions, like maybe the big wig upstairs had taken an early lunch break.
After kicking demon butt and doing our heroic spiel, we head back to Homestead. But, what do you know? The stone's gone AWOL. Now it's the blame game. The new kid on the block, a halfling woman, got the target painted on her back. Just when they're ready to settle the score, a sequel happens: another obelisk pops up, more demons parade in. It's like a circus act gone wrong. And of course, my old question sprints back in: "Where’s the kitty cat when there’s spilled milk to be had?"
When that piece of rock comes back, peace and suspicion collide. We let the halfling in with one eye open and the other squinting. But Homestead's not done with their trouble. Now they're begging for help with gnolls—the kind of charming neighbors you wouldn't invite for dinner.
Off we trot towards Dunridge, find a rat's nest of a mine infested with gnolls. It's a grueling brawl, gnolls, bandits, demons, spiders—every critter's got a ticket to this fight. And by the end of it, I'm thinking I ain't got much faith left. But then, in the mess of the Spider Queen’s leftovers, there's a glimmer, a whisper of hope. Some other god's eye seems to be peeking, maybe keeping an eye on us poor saps.
See, this ain't the kind of story that ends in roses. Our heroines and heroes might've thought they knew their gods, but by the end of it, we're scratching our heads, wondering if the big shots above even care about the small fries down here. Just another day in the life, I reckon, where gods play their games and us folks down here do our best to make it out in one piece.
Last edited by Skoden on Fri Dec 08, 2023 7:48 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Re: RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------page 37-----------
In the circuit court of the Woods West of the Fog
------------------------------------------------------+
Estate of Jamis
V
Amba'tukam,
Defendant.
------------------------------------------------------+
Criminal No. 102676
Date: [Redacted]
WHEREUPON, the proceedings in the above-entitled matter commenced.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Judge: This better be leading somewhere, Councilor. I’ll allow it.
Prosecutor: Your Honor, I would like to call a Mr. Perry Farrel to the stand to provide evidence to the court as expert witness. Can you please introduce yourself to the court?
Expert Witness: Caw-caw, Your Honor. I am Perry Farrel, 72nd of a murder of crows who collectively hold a degree in Forensic Sky-ence. We've worked on over 200 cases, within the department and in conjunction with the DoJ, providing evidence and insights.
Prosecutor: A unique perspective. No doubt. Now, Mr. Farrel, please provide the court with a timeline of events.
Expert Witness: Witness accounts from Homestead place Jamis talking heatedly with the defendant in the company of a young tiefling woman, before shortly leaving westward at approximately 0700 hours.
Prosecutor: And the topic of this discussion?
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to conclude.
Prosecutor: …Proceed.
Expert Witness: At 0800 hours, the defendant speaks with one of the townsfolk who directs the party towards the west of town.
Prosecutor: In an outraged pursuit of Jamis no doubt?
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to conclude the details of the conversation.
Prosecutor: How convenient … Proceed.
Expert Witness: At approximately 1200 hours, on the trail between Dunridge and Homestead there is evidence of a skirmish. Feather markings on arrows used in the attacks were consistent with those found at the murder scene.
Prosecutor: So you are saying Jamis was murdered there and dumped at the site west of Dunridge.
Defense: Objection! your honor. Leading the witness.
Prosecutor: By the witnesses own admission those same arrows were at the murder scene.
Judge: Sustained! let your witness present their evidence.
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to gather sufficient evidence to support this theory. However there are witness accounts placing the defendant west of Dunridge dragging the young tiefling woman. Witnesses report she appeared unusually elated, cradling a rabbit not identified as Jamis. We were unable to conclude if this incapacitation was magical or chemical in nature.
Prosecutor: I want the jury to consider the defendants true motivations. The defense has presented this story that Jamis was out for this mysterious stone that cannot be accounted for. But that's not what Jamis really wanted. He was there to protect that young tiefling from the defendants jealousy and abuse.
Defense: Objection! your honor. This is pure conjecture.
Prosecutor: I’m just trying to establish the defendant's motivations, your honor.
Judge: Overruled, let the jury decide, councilor. Mr. Farrel please continue.
Expert Witness: At 1800 hours witnesses report seeing the defendant and young tiefling woman fleeing westward. It's an ongoing investigation your honor, remains are still being excavated from the surrounding forests. Drag mark tracers can account for 20 to 30 bodies in the area just west of Dunridge from this event.
Defense: Your honor, this witness was not brought to our attention during discovery. The defense requests a short recess to confer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the circuit court of the Woods West of the Fog
------------------------------------------------------+
Estate of Jamis
V
Amba'tukam,
Defendant.
------------------------------------------------------+
Criminal No. 102676
Date: [Redacted]
WHEREUPON, the proceedings in the above-entitled matter commenced.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Judge: This better be leading somewhere, Councilor. I’ll allow it.
Prosecutor: Your Honor, I would like to call a Mr. Perry Farrel to the stand to provide evidence to the court as expert witness. Can you please introduce yourself to the court?
Expert Witness: Caw-caw, Your Honor. I am Perry Farrel, 72nd of a murder of crows who collectively hold a degree in Forensic Sky-ence. We've worked on over 200 cases, within the department and in conjunction with the DoJ, providing evidence and insights.
Prosecutor: A unique perspective. No doubt. Now, Mr. Farrel, please provide the court with a timeline of events.
Expert Witness: Witness accounts from Homestead place Jamis talking heatedly with the defendant in the company of a young tiefling woman, before shortly leaving westward at approximately 0700 hours.
Prosecutor: And the topic of this discussion?
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to conclude.
Prosecutor: …Proceed.
Expert Witness: At 0800 hours, the defendant speaks with one of the townsfolk who directs the party towards the west of town.
Prosecutor: In an outraged pursuit of Jamis no doubt?
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to conclude the details of the conversation.
Prosecutor: How convenient … Proceed.
Expert Witness: At approximately 1200 hours, on the trail between Dunridge and Homestead there is evidence of a skirmish. Feather markings on arrows used in the attacks were consistent with those found at the murder scene.
Prosecutor: So you are saying Jamis was murdered there and dumped at the site west of Dunridge.
Defense: Objection! your honor. Leading the witness.
Prosecutor: By the witnesses own admission those same arrows were at the murder scene.
Judge: Sustained! let your witness present their evidence.
Expert Witness: Our team was unable to gather sufficient evidence to support this theory. However there are witness accounts placing the defendant west of Dunridge dragging the young tiefling woman. Witnesses report she appeared unusually elated, cradling a rabbit not identified as Jamis. We were unable to conclude if this incapacitation was magical or chemical in nature.
Prosecutor: I want the jury to consider the defendants true motivations. The defense has presented this story that Jamis was out for this mysterious stone that cannot be accounted for. But that's not what Jamis really wanted. He was there to protect that young tiefling from the defendants jealousy and abuse.
Defense: Objection! your honor. This is pure conjecture.
Prosecutor: I’m just trying to establish the defendant's motivations, your honor.
Judge: Overruled, let the jury decide, councilor. Mr. Farrel please continue.
Expert Witness: At 1800 hours witnesses report seeing the defendant and young tiefling woman fleeing westward. It's an ongoing investigation your honor, remains are still being excavated from the surrounding forests. Drag mark tracers can account for 20 to 30 bodies in the area just west of Dunridge from this event.
Defense: Your honor, this witness was not brought to our attention during discovery. The defense requests a short recess to confer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last edited by Skoden on Fri Dec 08, 2023 7:50 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Re: RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
Date: [Redacted]
Criminal No. 102676
Interviewer: Agent [Redacted] Sylvan Surveillance Service
Agent: I’m required by the terms of your incarceration to remind you that this conversation is being transcribed into the wea—.
Amba’tukam: Listen up, pal. I've read the rights to more scumbags than you've got short and curlies trapped in your shower catch after a “Me” day.
Agent: …In your own words then tell us what happened on the night of [Redacted]
Amba’tukam: It's a real knee-slapper, how it all kicked off. Prison break and all that jazz. Avacor, an old geezer with more wrinkles than secrets, needed a helping hand. The usual suspects called us in, figuring we were the right bunch for the job. Little did I know, this was just the opening act.
Jamis, the big shot, was already six feet under, and the stone we were supposed to guard was safely tucked away. We thought the bandit trouble was yesterday's news. So, we headed west, cruising towards the Black Grove, thinking the road ahead was smooth as glass. Boy, were we in for a rude awakening.
Demons, I tell ya. Like they were throwing a fiendish party and forgot to send us an invite. Hordes of 'em, crawling out of the woodwork. It was a bloodbath, and we were the main course. In the middle of an Ogre Village, we stumbled upon some divine tag-team, fighting tooth and nail against the demon onslaught. Gave us the lowdown about the stone and a road paved with more demons than a devil's poker game. Then came the Black Grove and its cursed pyramid. Talk about a trap. Me and this strange dark elf dame, a real piece of work. She had a thing for demon parts, pulling eyeballs and tongues like she was picking flowers. It was eerie, the way she did it, like a surgeon on a first-name basis with darkness.
In that abyssal pyramid, it was just us against the undead, slaads, and demons on repeat. The dark elf broad, with her scientific detachment from reality, made it feel like we were dissecting nightmares. Yet, we pressed on, and there, in the heart of the abyss, we found Avacor. Freeing him wasn't a cakewalk. Battling demonic jailers took its toll, but we got the old timer out.
Avacor spills the beans, says a demon named [Redacted] tried squeezing info out of him in his cell. Now, the path ahead involves cleansing the shrines of [Redacted]. Divine duty, they say. But in this twisted world, I can't help but question the presence of any divinity. What kind of higher power sends demons and shadows to test the limits of mortal souls? It's a head-scratcher, and I ain't buying the divine ticket just yet.
Criminal No. 102676
Interviewer: Agent [Redacted] Sylvan Surveillance Service
Agent: I’m required by the terms of your incarceration to remind you that this conversation is being transcribed into the wea—.
Amba’tukam: Listen up, pal. I've read the rights to more scumbags than you've got short and curlies trapped in your shower catch after a “Me” day.
Agent: …In your own words then tell us what happened on the night of [Redacted]
Amba’tukam: It's a real knee-slapper, how it all kicked off. Prison break and all that jazz. Avacor, an old geezer with more wrinkles than secrets, needed a helping hand. The usual suspects called us in, figuring we were the right bunch for the job. Little did I know, this was just the opening act.
Jamis, the big shot, was already six feet under, and the stone we were supposed to guard was safely tucked away. We thought the bandit trouble was yesterday's news. So, we headed west, cruising towards the Black Grove, thinking the road ahead was smooth as glass. Boy, were we in for a rude awakening.
Demons, I tell ya. Like they were throwing a fiendish party and forgot to send us an invite. Hordes of 'em, crawling out of the woodwork. It was a bloodbath, and we were the main course. In the middle of an Ogre Village, we stumbled upon some divine tag-team, fighting tooth and nail against the demon onslaught. Gave us the lowdown about the stone and a road paved with more demons than a devil's poker game. Then came the Black Grove and its cursed pyramid. Talk about a trap. Me and this strange dark elf dame, a real piece of work. She had a thing for demon parts, pulling eyeballs and tongues like she was picking flowers. It was eerie, the way she did it, like a surgeon on a first-name basis with darkness.
In that abyssal pyramid, it was just us against the undead, slaads, and demons on repeat. The dark elf broad, with her scientific detachment from reality, made it feel like we were dissecting nightmares. Yet, we pressed on, and there, in the heart of the abyss, we found Avacor. Freeing him wasn't a cakewalk. Battling demonic jailers took its toll, but we got the old timer out.
Avacor spills the beans, says a demon named [Redacted] tried squeezing info out of him in his cell. Now, the path ahead involves cleansing the shrines of [Redacted]. Divine duty, they say. But in this twisted world, I can't help but question the presence of any divinity. What kind of higher power sends demons and shadows to test the limits of mortal souls? It's a head-scratcher, and I ain't buying the divine ticket just yet.
Re: RP Campaign Chronicle 10/23
'Twas Midwinter’s Eve, near the Homestead town,
Hidden the hovel, sole shadows found.
The children of Jamis, stained and filthy.
Unaware of their plight, adorned a small tree.
"Oi, little Timmy, gimme them baubles with care,
Let's dress this tree, like up in the square!"
His sister, Sally, hope twinkled her eye,
Wrapped tattered garlands that reached for the sky.
Their mum, a strong woman, with heart so pure,
Recalled the promise, a tale spun to endure.
"The stone’s magic power, t’would change our fate.
Bring warmth to our hearth, keep hunger out our gate."
In a makeshift home, by the fire so small,
The children heeded their father's call.
"Toys and trinkets, and riches untold,
He vowed to provide a family stronghold."
As stockings were hung, the atmosphere light,
An ear-splitting smash! A roar in the night!
Down the chimney a rock with thunderous crash,
Excitement exploded! The mother aghast.
"Fathers home! Our wishes he brings!"
They gathered round, their hearts cherub’d wings.
This blackened stone, This object delight,
This magical charm that smothered the light.
Wishes were yearned, hopes in the dark,
But laughter sparked an inquisitive mark.
The chimney shivered, as the shadows grew form,
A red giant, white wreathed, in an icy storm.
"Santa!?" the children exclaimed with glee,
The demon smirked, "Close enough, you'll see."
The black stone crumbled and burst into flames,
As the demon revealed Jamis' unfinished games.
"His contract been breached, his life he resigned,
With me, down to hell, your family's assigned."
A circle of fire, an infernal twist,
Screaming loth towards the horrific abyss.
Near the shadows of Homestead, the hovel aglow,
Vanished the family, to the hellish below.
Aflame the wee tree, disfigured despair,
As ominous laughter poisoned the air.
With chuckles, the demon vanished from sight,
Leaving behind a malevolent night.
The flames flickered, fighting the cold,
He laughed, "Good Midwinter to all, the tale has been told.”
Hidden the hovel, sole shadows found.
The children of Jamis, stained and filthy.
Unaware of their plight, adorned a small tree.
"Oi, little Timmy, gimme them baubles with care,
Let's dress this tree, like up in the square!"
His sister, Sally, hope twinkled her eye,
Wrapped tattered garlands that reached for the sky.
Their mum, a strong woman, with heart so pure,
Recalled the promise, a tale spun to endure.
"The stone’s magic power, t’would change our fate.
Bring warmth to our hearth, keep hunger out our gate."
In a makeshift home, by the fire so small,
The children heeded their father's call.
"Toys and trinkets, and riches untold,
He vowed to provide a family stronghold."
As stockings were hung, the atmosphere light,
An ear-splitting smash! A roar in the night!
Down the chimney a rock with thunderous crash,
Excitement exploded! The mother aghast.
"Fathers home! Our wishes he brings!"
They gathered round, their hearts cherub’d wings.
This blackened stone, This object delight,
This magical charm that smothered the light.
Wishes were yearned, hopes in the dark,
But laughter sparked an inquisitive mark.
The chimney shivered, as the shadows grew form,
A red giant, white wreathed, in an icy storm.
"Santa!?" the children exclaimed with glee,
The demon smirked, "Close enough, you'll see."
The black stone crumbled and burst into flames,
As the demon revealed Jamis' unfinished games.
"His contract been breached, his life he resigned,
With me, down to hell, your family's assigned."
A circle of fire, an infernal twist,
Screaming loth towards the horrific abyss.
Near the shadows of Homestead, the hovel aglow,
Vanished the family, to the hellish below.
Aflame the wee tree, disfigured despair,
As ominous laughter poisoned the air.
With chuckles, the demon vanished from sight,
Leaving behind a malevolent night.
The flames flickered, fighting the cold,
He laughed, "Good Midwinter to all, the tale has been told.”