3rd Apryyl, Year 1456
You arrived a couple of weeks ago. Sent back in time just before the end of the world, you were some of the most powerful mortals in existence. Unfortunately, the same ritual that sent you back in time also drained most of your and your magical items' energy. While you certainly are more than a match for most common men, you are a far cry from what you were before. And your items suffered the same fate. Either they are non-magical trinkets of no particular worth, or the magic they hold is the mere shadow of what they had before.
After being disorientated for a while, you have now slowly getting a grip on what has happened and where you are.
You are in the sprawling city of Drahar, one of the many cities of the Empire of Matuk that covers everything west and south of the Wrath of Gods, and while you do know that this is the empire that will last until the destruction of Draegor, and the capital is called Arul-Matuk, most details of what is essentially your past still escape your mind. Except for your friends. Your comrades in arms. Together you have killed dragons, devils, demons, angels, primordials. You have fought against and with the gods, discovered artifacts and helped shape the destiny of the universe. Again, the details of those magnificent adventures escape you as well..
You might not know all that you did know, but you do know this. Tharizdun must not be allowed to destroy the world, and the only people who can do that is you and your friends. But for now, it seems the world is safe, so maybe you and your friends should work on honing the skills you have forgotten..
Viser opslag med etiketten Introduction. Vis alle opslag
Viser opslag med etiketten Introduction. Vis alle opslag
24. december 2009
The Second Age - Introduction to the Campaign
Many years have passed since the world of Draegor received its now famous arrivals from another world. For long, much was clouded and secret. But from the tales of Simon the Humble and later from the gods themselves, we know now that the Swords of Drahar were fighting for a better world, a world were the true gods could guide us. Alas they failed, and met their demise in the Church of Kord in what are now the ruins of Drahar.
No one knows for sure what happened then. But word of the original gods about the story of what the Swords fought for spread amongst the general populace, not just in Drahar, but everywhere in the world. Slowly, at first, without attracting too much attention, followers of the original gods became more numerous and the original gods (at this time still exarches) began to amass power. Not all of them understood fully why this was happening, but eventually, even they heard the tale of the Usurper gods, as discovered by the Swords and chronicled by a humble priest of Kord named Simon. They were not pleased, because they started to remember what they once had been, and wanted to be so again.
At some point around 501, the original gods transcended to real gods, and thus began the War of the Gods, 483 years after the Swords died. At first, it was a silent war in the shadows of civilization, a war fought between the faithful. But after only a couple of years, it had become a full-blown, world-spanning war between empires, kingdoms and city-states, but also in the dark corners of the world and in every small village..
The war continued this way for around 14 years, slowly depleting the humanoid resources, and yet, there was no clear advantage to any of the sides. Then somehow, in 515, the real disaster struck. The Ancient Compact was broken, and once again the gods (both new and old) walked the earth again, without restrictions. Without being tempered by the primal spirits who had guarded the world since the Dawn War.
The world was sundered. Cities were destroyed, empires fell, mountain ranges were leveled, seas raised and even the weather was affected. Entire kingdoms worth of people were killed, and it looked as if there would be no one left to worship whoever would win the war.
Fortunately, the war did come to an end. Whatever had kept the primal spirits in check vanished around 521, and suddenly the gods found out what kind of fury and power the World Serpent and the other spirits have. The Usurper gods were all killed, and the original (and new) gods were once again banished from walking the mortal world and sent into the Astral Sea.
So the original gods won. Once again the gods are called Kord, Bane, Pelor, Asmodeus etc, but not much was left to rule, not many people were left to worship them. Draegor is a broken world, filled with smoking ruins where there once was might empires and cities.
The Auran Empire, gone. The Empire of the Keeper (also known as the Ebon Empire), destroyed. Drahar a shattered ruin, etc, etc.
And a lot of those left behind share an arguably strong distrust of the gods and those that still worship them. After all, they did almost destroy the world. Instead, people have come to worship the primal spirits to a larger degree. To them, the Swords were misguided fools who brought on a cataclysm, but to those of us who believe in the gods, the Swords of Drahar are the greatest heroes to ever walk the mortal world. They are the ones that freed us from more than 10.000 years of deception. They are now exarches and saints, standing at the side of the gods (Gnoguh and Saint Carric are exarches of Kord, Gork is an exarch of Moradin, Torn is an exarch of Ioun, Truxas is an exarch of Melora and Tagron is an exarch of Asmodeus). Saint Carric is even attracting quite a following.
It has now been 78 years since the second banishment (the year is 599), and the world is still licking its wounds. People live in villages and small towns, and to my knowledge, no man rules over territory much larger than what you can ride in a day. Monsters are everywhere, and the ruins after an apocalypse hold treasure beyond our wildest dreams. If there ever was a time for heroes, this is it.
No one knows for sure what happened then. But word of the original gods about the story of what the Swords fought for spread amongst the general populace, not just in Drahar, but everywhere in the world. Slowly, at first, without attracting too much attention, followers of the original gods became more numerous and the original gods (at this time still exarches) began to amass power. Not all of them understood fully why this was happening, but eventually, even they heard the tale of the Usurper gods, as discovered by the Swords and chronicled by a humble priest of Kord named Simon. They were not pleased, because they started to remember what they once had been, and wanted to be so again.
At some point around 501, the original gods transcended to real gods, and thus began the War of the Gods, 483 years after the Swords died. At first, it was a silent war in the shadows of civilization, a war fought between the faithful. But after only a couple of years, it had become a full-blown, world-spanning war between empires, kingdoms and city-states, but also in the dark corners of the world and in every small village..
The war continued this way for around 14 years, slowly depleting the humanoid resources, and yet, there was no clear advantage to any of the sides. Then somehow, in 515, the real disaster struck. The Ancient Compact was broken, and once again the gods (both new and old) walked the earth again, without restrictions. Without being tempered by the primal spirits who had guarded the world since the Dawn War.
The world was sundered. Cities were destroyed, empires fell, mountain ranges were leveled, seas raised and even the weather was affected. Entire kingdoms worth of people were killed, and it looked as if there would be no one left to worship whoever would win the war.
Fortunately, the war did come to an end. Whatever had kept the primal spirits in check vanished around 521, and suddenly the gods found out what kind of fury and power the World Serpent and the other spirits have. The Usurper gods were all killed, and the original (and new) gods were once again banished from walking the mortal world and sent into the Astral Sea.
So the original gods won. Once again the gods are called Kord, Bane, Pelor, Asmodeus etc, but not much was left to rule, not many people were left to worship them. Draegor is a broken world, filled with smoking ruins where there once was might empires and cities.
The Auran Empire, gone. The Empire of the Keeper (also known as the Ebon Empire), destroyed. Drahar a shattered ruin, etc, etc.
And a lot of those left behind share an arguably strong distrust of the gods and those that still worship them. After all, they did almost destroy the world. Instead, people have come to worship the primal spirits to a larger degree. To them, the Swords were misguided fools who brought on a cataclysm, but to those of us who believe in the gods, the Swords of Drahar are the greatest heroes to ever walk the mortal world. They are the ones that freed us from more than 10.000 years of deception. They are now exarches and saints, standing at the side of the gods (Gnoguh and Saint Carric are exarches of Kord, Gork is an exarch of Moradin, Torn is an exarch of Ioun, Truxas is an exarch of Melora and Tagron is an exarch of Asmodeus). Saint Carric is even attracting quite a following.
It has now been 78 years since the second banishment (the year is 599), and the world is still licking its wounds. People live in villages and small towns, and to my knowledge, no man rules over territory much larger than what you can ride in a day. Monsters are everywhere, and the ruins after an apocalypse hold treasure beyond our wildest dreams. If there ever was a time for heroes, this is it.
Hubertus Maximiliam, Bard Extraordinaire of Laketown, in the year 599
9. juni 2008
A New Beginning
Feron is an advanced empire on the continent of Ghalton. There has been peace for centuries, and trade, art, science and magic has flourished. All the great races live in harmony, working together to improve the realm they inhabit. Or at least that is how it was, up until 31 years ago.
No-one knows quite how things started, but one thing we know for sure is that suddenly, people stopped dieing. Or rather, people stopped passing on to the Shadowfell and the Astral Dominions of the gods. Instead, they were stuck as ghosts, somewhere in between. Then, whenever a body died, a soul would inhabit that corpse, effectively becoming living again. But the souls that came back were changed. Even the most pious cleric of Bahamut would come back as a raving homicidal lunatic. And while they might be happy with their new existence, there were still millions of souls on the other side of the veil, calling at them, begging them to make them come back. So the killings began.
It was a fight that was doomed to be lost from the start. How do you fight an enemy that can't die. How do you fight an enemy that gets stronger every time anyone dies in pain?
After just 30 years, Feron was no more. Actually, you could say that Ghalton was no more. All that was left of man, was 300.000 people, huddled up behind the enormous walls of the ancient city of Tar'Eldar. Outside, the Reborn, as they were called, were pressing on, eager to take over the last of the living.
Desperation grew, but it seemed that the 7 arch-mages of Tar'Eldar had had the solution for a while. They had (in secret) been working furiously on opening a rift to another world. 25 years ago, that day finally arrived. Almost 300.000 men and women stood in line, with all that they could carry and some more, while the immensely powerful 7 worked their magic in a ritual like the world had never seen before. They were assisted by every arcane and divine caster still alive and in the city . The rift opened, and people started to pour through. For more than 6 hours, people kept moving through the shimmering portal, into the other world. Suddenly, as thousands of people were passing through the portal, there was an explosion, and the rift closed, trapping all the arch-mages and many powerful warlocks and clerics on Ghalton, along with more than 250.000 other.
What became of them, no one knows. Not a word has come through since then.
The survivors found themselves in the new world, that they called Draegor, meaning A New Beginning in Old Elvish. It was a fresh and fertile world, with a mildly hot climate (subtropical), and no sign of other civilized humanoid races.
The first thing that was done, was to find an appropriate place to start over. After a few days, such a spot was located and rebuilding began.
The first city of Draegor was called Drahar, meaning A New Hope, also in Old Elvish.
As mentioned, the building of Drahar began almost immediately. Everyone was put to work by the Council, no exceptions. With hills, river and forest with a ½ mile, all resources were at hand. At first, most buildings were made of wood, and at the beginning only the Cathedral of Erathis and the Town Hall, along with the walls surrounding the city, were made of stone. But the dwarves mined like never before, in order to provide enough stone for the city, and priority lists were made, to ensure that eventually everyone would have a home made of stone.
However, things were definitely different than in the old world. While it was a great unknown world out there, it was much less scarier than the reborn from back home.
Soon it became obvious that some races just weren't suited for living amongst others, at least not in great numbers. In the Year of the Sundering (Year 3) an age-old Elven-Eladrin conflict blossomed up again, and before the conflict changed to civil war, it was decided that most of the Elves and of the Eladrin should leave Drahar, and find another place to live. They both went into the Silent Forest, although not in the same direction. Since then, both races have settled in, and created their own communities, out in the wilderness of the new world.
After the Elves and the Eladrin left, there was peace and quiet for a while. The people of Drahar worked on their city, getting things to work. Exploration was almost non-existent, as the Council feared what they would find. After all, they had all they needed to survive and prosper, why risk running into a hostile civilization? This is not to say that there weren't any dangers. The Silent Wood proved to be full of monsters, and several skirmishes with monstrous humanoids (mostly kobolds, goblins and also some hobgoblins and orcs) did also happen. But they were few and far between.
In the Year of the Clans (year 10), the Halflings of Drahar finally grew too restless to remain in Drahar. Embracing their ancient ways, they left on good terms, clan by clan, and struck out to explore the world.
The next year, in the Year of the Rock (year 11), the Dwarves of Drahar decided it was time to leave for the mountains, to regain their independence, and work some for themselves instead for the humans. They found a place in the Maruum, the Golden Peaks, and called their new home Magyth, the Golden Mine.
Even though the dwarves and halflings left on good terms, their departure were the catalyst for the greatest crisis so far in the new world. Some people felt that they had abandoned the humans, and eventually, those people started to hate all demi-humans. These people, later named the Purists, were led by John Blackhand, one of the more charismatic members of the Council. Officially, pressure grew on the Council to change the law, so that demi-humans had fewer rights and were punished harder. Especially tieflings and dragonborn seemed to be the target of the Purists, since they believed both races should be relegated to slave status, even though both races had played an instrumental part in holding of the Reborn on Ghalton, and in creating the rift to Draegor. The two races had also payed the highest price, very few were left. Not many had made it. Unofficially, press gang were hunting the streets at night, and woe to any demi-human caught out alone, with no guards around.
Soon enough it became clear that something had to be done, and the Council stripped John Blackhand of his powers, and arrested him, without any hard evidence, other than his rhetorics. His people retaliated by breaking him out, and setting a good part of the city on fire. While the fire raged, John Blackhand and his most trusted allies escaped the city, and went into hiding. He came back, claiming it was the will of the gods that he was not to be imprisoned, and that the fire that had ravaged the city was a sign of their displeasure. He went further, and announced that the city was cursed and tainted by the demi-humans, and that he would set out to find a new, clean place to live, and that any human was more than welcome to come with him. A week later, in the Year of The Black Hand (year 14) more than 3.000 adults left Drahar to follow John Blackhand westward, along the Elra, out to the Sea of Hope.
Over the last 11 years, more people left Drahar, some joining John Blackhand in Blackkeep, while others set out to form their own communities, most notably Laketown, whose inhabitants left because they wished to follow King Azar, and not be subject to some pseudo-democratic council.
Then, slowly, the people of Drahar and Draegor reverted to there fairly peaceful existence. But, as usual, the peace and quiet didn't last. One day, 50.000 other refugees from Ghalton suddenly appeared at the Stones of Arrival. They were amongst those caught in the blast that shattered the ritual. They had no idea what had happened, since for them, no time had passed.
Confused and confounded, the new arrivals parted ways. Most chose to live in Drahar (about 30k), while some left for Blackkeep and Laketown. Some even opted for making it on their own. This has been very hard on Drahar, from what you have heard. Most of the newcomers live together in two new wards, the Furnace and the Oak Ward, which is a ward build on the Elra. Wood on water. From what you hear, things are very heated, with many gangs fighting for the dominance of these two wards, while the old and new Draharians are trying to build lasting homes for their new co-habitants.
Now, 25 years after coming to this world, the first generation born here has grown up, and are ready to take on the world.
No-one knows quite how things started, but one thing we know for sure is that suddenly, people stopped dieing. Or rather, people stopped passing on to the Shadowfell and the Astral Dominions of the gods. Instead, they were stuck as ghosts, somewhere in between. Then, whenever a body died, a soul would inhabit that corpse, effectively becoming living again. But the souls that came back were changed. Even the most pious cleric of Bahamut would come back as a raving homicidal lunatic. And while they might be happy with their new existence, there were still millions of souls on the other side of the veil, calling at them, begging them to make them come back. So the killings began.
It was a fight that was doomed to be lost from the start. How do you fight an enemy that can't die. How do you fight an enemy that gets stronger every time anyone dies in pain?
After just 30 years, Feron was no more. Actually, you could say that Ghalton was no more. All that was left of man, was 300.000 people, huddled up behind the enormous walls of the ancient city of Tar'Eldar. Outside, the Reborn, as they were called, were pressing on, eager to take over the last of the living.
Desperation grew, but it seemed that the 7 arch-mages of Tar'Eldar had had the solution for a while. They had (in secret) been working furiously on opening a rift to another world. 25 years ago, that day finally arrived. Almost 300.000 men and women stood in line, with all that they could carry and some more, while the immensely powerful 7 worked their magic in a ritual like the world had never seen before. They were assisted by every arcane and divine caster still alive and in the city . The rift opened, and people started to pour through. For more than 6 hours, people kept moving through the shimmering portal, into the other world. Suddenly, as thousands of people were passing through the portal, there was an explosion, and the rift closed, trapping all the arch-mages and many powerful warlocks and clerics on Ghalton, along with more than 250.000 other.
What became of them, no one knows. Not a word has come through since then.
The survivors found themselves in the new world, that they called Draegor, meaning A New Beginning in Old Elvish. It was a fresh and fertile world, with a mildly hot climate (subtropical), and no sign of other civilized humanoid races.
The first thing that was done, was to find an appropriate place to start over. After a few days, such a spot was located and rebuilding began.
The first city of Draegor was called Drahar, meaning A New Hope, also in Old Elvish.
As mentioned, the building of Drahar began almost immediately. Everyone was put to work by the Council, no exceptions. With hills, river and forest with a ½ mile, all resources were at hand. At first, most buildings were made of wood, and at the beginning only the Cathedral of Erathis and the Town Hall, along with the walls surrounding the city, were made of stone. But the dwarves mined like never before, in order to provide enough stone for the city, and priority lists were made, to ensure that eventually everyone would have a home made of stone.
However, things were definitely different than in the old world. While it was a great unknown world out there, it was much less scarier than the reborn from back home.
Soon it became obvious that some races just weren't suited for living amongst others, at least not in great numbers. In the Year of the Sundering (Year 3) an age-old Elven-Eladrin conflict blossomed up again, and before the conflict changed to civil war, it was decided that most of the Elves and of the Eladrin should leave Drahar, and find another place to live. They both went into the Silent Forest, although not in the same direction. Since then, both races have settled in, and created their own communities, out in the wilderness of the new world.
After the Elves and the Eladrin left, there was peace and quiet for a while. The people of Drahar worked on their city, getting things to work. Exploration was almost non-existent, as the Council feared what they would find. After all, they had all they needed to survive and prosper, why risk running into a hostile civilization? This is not to say that there weren't any dangers. The Silent Wood proved to be full of monsters, and several skirmishes with monstrous humanoids (mostly kobolds, goblins and also some hobgoblins and orcs) did also happen. But they were few and far between.
In the Year of the Clans (year 10), the Halflings of Drahar finally grew too restless to remain in Drahar. Embracing their ancient ways, they left on good terms, clan by clan, and struck out to explore the world.
The next year, in the Year of the Rock (year 11), the Dwarves of Drahar decided it was time to leave for the mountains, to regain their independence, and work some for themselves instead for the humans. They found a place in the Maruum, the Golden Peaks, and called their new home Magyth, the Golden Mine.
Even though the dwarves and halflings left on good terms, their departure were the catalyst for the greatest crisis so far in the new world. Some people felt that they had abandoned the humans, and eventually, those people started to hate all demi-humans. These people, later named the Purists, were led by John Blackhand, one of the more charismatic members of the Council. Officially, pressure grew on the Council to change the law, so that demi-humans had fewer rights and were punished harder. Especially tieflings and dragonborn seemed to be the target of the Purists, since they believed both races should be relegated to slave status, even though both races had played an instrumental part in holding of the Reborn on Ghalton, and in creating the rift to Draegor. The two races had also payed the highest price, very few were left. Not many had made it. Unofficially, press gang were hunting the streets at night, and woe to any demi-human caught out alone, with no guards around.
Soon enough it became clear that something had to be done, and the Council stripped John Blackhand of his powers, and arrested him, without any hard evidence, other than his rhetorics. His people retaliated by breaking him out, and setting a good part of the city on fire. While the fire raged, John Blackhand and his most trusted allies escaped the city, and went into hiding. He came back, claiming it was the will of the gods that he was not to be imprisoned, and that the fire that had ravaged the city was a sign of their displeasure. He went further, and announced that the city was cursed and tainted by the demi-humans, and that he would set out to find a new, clean place to live, and that any human was more than welcome to come with him. A week later, in the Year of The Black Hand (year 14) more than 3.000 adults left Drahar to follow John Blackhand westward, along the Elra, out to the Sea of Hope.
Over the last 11 years, more people left Drahar, some joining John Blackhand in Blackkeep, while others set out to form their own communities, most notably Laketown, whose inhabitants left because they wished to follow King Azar, and not be subject to some pseudo-democratic council.
Then, slowly, the people of Drahar and Draegor reverted to there fairly peaceful existence. But, as usual, the peace and quiet didn't last. One day, 50.000 other refugees from Ghalton suddenly appeared at the Stones of Arrival. They were amongst those caught in the blast that shattered the ritual. They had no idea what had happened, since for them, no time had passed.
Confused and confounded, the new arrivals parted ways. Most chose to live in Drahar (about 30k), while some left for Blackkeep and Laketown. Some even opted for making it on their own. This has been very hard on Drahar, from what you have heard. Most of the newcomers live together in two new wards, the Furnace and the Oak Ward, which is a ward build on the Elra. Wood on water. From what you hear, things are very heated, with many gangs fighting for the dominance of these two wards, while the old and new Draharians are trying to build lasting homes for their new co-habitants.
Now, 25 years after coming to this world, the first generation born here has grown up, and are ready to take on the world.
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