EPIC Campaign Information

[Theylan]

Lorin feel free to move this to a designated folder if you want. I couldn't see the option.

Xavier prodded you gently with a wing. "Master are you alright" He asked. "Yes" you thought back to him still not moving. You had deliberately frozen when you discovered you were being scryed. You understood its range and the extent of its powers intuitively. And you knew standing in the hallway of your keep was benign a place as any. Dismissing the scrying would have been easy also but someone or something had been attempting it with increased frequency and you were curious so you let it happen; sort of. It had become increasingly difficult to know you were being watched. Implying that whomever it was, was either growing in power or gaining knowledge of you through natural means. Attempts to scry on you were normal occurrences and you often dismissed them. This felt different so you cast the proper spell to detect who it might be. The image shocked you. It was that shock that held you transfixed. You saw a man holding a staff peering into a pool. That vision was to be expected. What shocked you was the almost imperceptible shadowy figure lurking near the man; Simon. The image was gone quickly and you knew you were safe from scrying for now, but the questions were mounting. Simon was lurking for sure. Your first thought was that Simon had sensed the same thing, guessing that he also had been the target of scrying and went hunting. Simon clearly had a propensity for being rash. So you waited, hoping that your Elven friend would reach out to you and explain that he had eliminated a threat. Buying yourself some time from your anxiety you reached out to the others. They all responded back, you quickly explained what was happening and they each confirmed your theory that they had all been targets of scrying. Being 80% certain of your conclusion you expressed to the others that Simon had gone rogue. You chuckled at your own play on words and recommended that the party give Simon time to check in. After a half hour, having moved to your study, you could no longer wait on your friend and you reached out your mind to him and the others. "Simon?". There was no reply. "Simon?" you called again. "He is alive" came back a response. It was Izzy. "Contingency spell brought him back to Rogue's Wind. He is unconscious but he seems generally unharmed." Your thought was echoed by three other mental voices. "I'll be there soon. Where is the ship right now?"

Boric:
It took you longer then you had hoped to retrieve the pin for Simon's order of the blackened sword. You had been too engrossed in studying Simon's notes from his last foray into being "remade" as a hand for Moradin that you had left the Pin in your quarters. You're Elven friend had achieved much in this year since spending time in the quasi plane chasing Arcana. He was almost back to his old self, with a few changes the most notable being that he seemed to have set aside his twin swords to embrace the way of the axe and he now sported two of those in a gesture to Moradin. A move you could completely appreciate.

The pin allowed you to teleport to your current location and you now stood just outside a city that was in the remaking. Myth Drannor lay before you. You marveled at the parallel path of your friend and the his city that he loved. You waited for the scouts you were certain would be intercepting your approach. As if on cue "Hail, friend dwarf" a familiar voice said. You turned to see the glimmer of dragon mail in the sun. "Ah good friend Jason, well met.". The two of you shook hands and walked on. "So Boric, what trouble do you think our friend got into this time?"

"Who knows, he is always cutting off the head of the hydra, so to speak"

"True." Came Jason's reply with a smile and the shake of the head. "Odd thing though, he came to me a week or so ago and was asking about a staff. A staff he said that came from my world. A staff he said that was created by a god who tried to overthrow Odin."

"A staff you say?" came a third familiar voice. Zanther sat on a fallen tree just a few paces from you so well blended into his surrounding you were certain you never would have seen him had he not spoken. Zanther smiled at you both knowingly. "Well met my friends.". He said stepping into stride with the two of you.

"a week ago you say Jason? That coincides with the time he paid me a visit and asked if the Harper's had heard any rumblings of an enchanter with a staff of immense power. Had he not said enchanted I would have responded Greylen, but we all know Greylen had no talent for charms, if it doesn't explode our wizard friend thinks it's useless." Zanther laughed heartily at his own joke. "Remember when he tested my resistance to fire when we were faced with all those kobolds?"

"Which time?". You responded.

The three of you chuckled together about the numerous memories of being set aflame.

Zanther added in mid laughter. " Patrol coming". As if announced by a herald five elves stepped around the trees and halted before you.

"Announce yourselves and state your purpose here."

Jason stepped forward grabbing the collar of his tunic so that the pin showed clearly "we are here to see the Spell Major"

With a bow the first elf bid you welcome and with no further questions they spread out around you to escort you in. Zanther went right to work with one of the scouts peppering him about security, threats and any news. Jason walked next to the leader and struck up a conversation about the new Coronal and how the cities defenses and reconstruction were coming. This left you time to reflect upon the snippets of information your friends had about Simon. This brought back to your memory Simon's notes that he had sent on to you. One phrase from his notes now jumped out at you. "The Shrinshee has asked me to look into the whereabouts of a staff of power, a staff not of this world." This hadn't seemed all too important before since the Shrinshee often asked him to check in and recover certain objects from time to time. Now you wondered if this staff of power was too powerful.

Once inside the city the patrol broke off and left you to head along your merry way. The three of you decided to head to Simon's ancient hidden manor next to the lake and wait there for Greylen. Your eyes wandered upward and you saw the smallish cloud that sat motionless above the lake. It was still too far away for you to tell but by all indications that cloud was the Rogue's wind wrapped in an illusionary spell. Twenty minutes later you arrived at the tree fort and found Greylen sitting at the base of the tree. He was handcuffed, gagged and surrounded by several guardsman Despite the circumstances the guard seemed quite nervous. Greylen on the other hand, although calm, was as imposing a presence as ever. Lightning crackled between his cuffed finger tips and a smile formed on the edges of his gag, but shown clearly in his eyes. He was having fun.

Jason stepped forward "what is the meaning of this? Un-cuff him?" The pins you wore were recognizable among the captains of the city guard and they knew that those accompanied with a pass phrase would give you a great deal of autonomy and authority. The captain stood his ground even placing his hand on his sword. The tension rose in the area. "Announce yourselves and state your purpose here."

"we are here to see the spell major" Greylen rolled his eyes as if a memory had suddenly come to surface.

The captain relaxed visibly then nodded to his men. One stepped over to Greylen and removed his bindings. Then in explanation the captain added "This one," his head leaning toward Greylen "said his name was Greylen and he was here to see the arms major."

At this point Greylen's gag came off and he retorted. "You blubbering dunderhead of a captain don't you know that the arm's major and the spell major are the same person."

The captain, who was clearly made of tougher stuff than could be intimidated by an arch mage, even though he should be afraid, turned and to Greylen and simply said. "You gave me your name, and I don't see your pin anywhere."

Greylen paused mouth agape then simply added, "oh, good job captain."

With that the captain rounded up his men, including several you hadn't seen before and walked back toward the center of town.

All of you stared at Greylen with bemused looks.

"what?" he responded "so, I don't need the pin to teleport wherever I wish."

"And giving the captain your name?" Zanther questioned.

"Well, that blasted elf has me so concerned right now I just wanted to get here and save his hide so I could beat him senseless afterwards. I didn't see the point in messing with cloak and dagger games, time was wasting. Magic is the true power anyway not these senseless tools of stealth and secrecy."

The three of you chuckled. And then Jason finally added. "Well, mister 'true power' could you please teleport all of us up there to the cloud."

Greylen smiled back at you knowingly, "my friends, this is Myth Drannor, you can fly." and with that he intoned the key word for flight and took off up to the cloud.

The three of you looked at each other. Jason finally asked? "Do you think he was really just trying to test security around here."

Zanther responded first "Perhaps, you never know with him, for being the most intelligent person I know, he does tend to forget some important things from time to time."

"True." you added "except this time I think he is a little concerned for the elf and he wanted to make sure that security hadn't lapsed to the detriment of our friend. Then again perhaps he did forget because of his concern for the elf or a combination of both."

You all wondered after that staff as you flew to the deck of the Rogue's Wind.



more individual stuff to come.

[Just Rob]

Great intro! So, are we contemplating starting this in May, or finishing the giant campaign first and then starting this up again?

[Greylen]

Post all things EPIC here.

[Theylan]

i like it very. this should be fun. I'm excited by the possibilities. i have an incerpt for jason and zanther that i have to work up that will add a little more depth to the adventure.

[Theylan]

next post

Jason: a week before scrying
“My lord” a knock came at your door.
“Yes Jacx, what is it?” you responded.
“There is an elf here to see you he won’t give his name and I don’t recognize him as the one you usually associate with. He looks a little… how shall we say, edgy. The guards are with him now.”
“Simon, is that you?” you reached out telepathically.
“I thought his description might give it away” came a mental response. “edgy, is probably fair, since that is what I was going for. I’m glad to see my skills are coming back.”
“Simon, how do you know how he described you?” You asked.
“Oh, that is because I’m standing next to him in the hallway.”
“If you are standing next to him, then who are the guards watching?” you inquired.
“Oh yes that was a lovely combination of spells and stealth. First I superimposed a programmed image over myself, then I created a distraction, then I hid right before their eyes and snuck my way up here. Tell Jacx to send the elf away that you are not expecting anyone.”
You did so. Jacx complied and went to tell the guards to escort the “gentlemen” out. A moment later Simon was sitting in your soft leather chair you had vacated to talk to Jacx. You were about to ask how he did that but shook you head instead. He was staring at you secret door that lead the interplanar portal which could take you back to your home world. After the last encounter with Arcana you felt it necessary to keep a home in both worlds and Greylen and Boric were happy to oblige by making you this portal and help constructing this small keep. It was a comfortable abode big enough to provide some protection yet small enough so as not to attract too much attention.
You smiled at your friend and remembered his mischievous and good hearted nature.
“Simon, why the cloak and dagger? Why didn’t you just tell me you were coming and come through the front door.”
Simon gave a smile back responding. “Ah that, well I’ve spent a little over a year getting back to my old form that sometimes I feel it’s like a dream, so doing that sort of stuff is just a way of pinching myself to remind me it is for real and that I’m back. Besides, the gods reworked me a little and there are somethings I can do now that I’m just discovering. So I’m kind of getting used to the new me mesh with the old me. If that makes sense?”
You nodded not out of complete understanding but you got the gist of his struggles. You imagined what it would have been like if it were you who was reduced to a novice adventurer. The thought made you shiver.
“Well, Jason” Simon broke your musings. “I’ve got a question for you. In my reworking process I came across a legend from your world. A legend of a staff that presumably has more power than even that of the staves of power like Greylen had. Legend says it can control armies.”
“Is there a question in here somewhere Simon?”
“I’m getting there. At any rate presumably the staff is controlled by a necromancer that cannot be seen nor killed and was created by a God who was the nemesis to Odin.”
“Simon, you know I don’t follow legends unless they concern dragons. I’m afraid I’m not much help here.” You chimed in.
“Jason, just wait until I get to the question. I chased this legend and I got a glimpse of the staff and I think the necromancer just as it left your world and came to ours. I came across one of his victim’s and I was able to glean some information from the poor sap before his brain turned to mush. He said the enchanter was after the spear of Odin. Jason, you’re the only one who can use the spear so why would he be after it?”
“He said the enchanter, I thought you said this guy was a necromancer?” you pointed out.
Simon dismissed the question with a wave of the hand “You know how legends are. Some truth mostly tall tales. Whatever he is, I’m worried he’s coming after the spear which means he will have to kill you to get to it. This guy is rumored to be powerful, he supposedly tried to kill your god, only someone really stupid or really powerful would attempt that. I’d say on the level with Greylen; and the way he turned that guys brain to mush I’d bet the war blade those rumors are true. Be on your guard.”
You spoke of lighter things after that, your home world and how the plantation was going in this world. At the end you agreed at Simon’s insistence to use some of the blackened sword eyes and ears to keep you appraised of any happenings and Simon committed to sending one of his best “spotters” to work for you. You were grateful for the help but not really concerned about anyone taking the spear. After all anyone unauthorized would be turned into an ant unless they had a way of fooling an artifact into thinking they were Jason; a feat probably only Simon could pull off and that with slim odds of success. With that thought you went about your work with only a sliver of concern for your own safety and a great deal more concern for those who might be in harm’s way because they work for you.
Simon spent the next couple of hours inspecting your keep with you and noting security issues he would give to Drevinir, his “spotter”. Then he teleported out.
“I’m going to find that staff again, I have to.” were his parting words.

[Boric Glanduum]

Boric: A ten-day before scrying

Boric walked wearily into the greatroom that served as the entrance to his chambers. It was austere and nearly void of all furnishings. This was where he held private meetings; it did not need comfort or decoration. He sighed, thinking of the cushions and pillows waiting for his sore bones just on the other side of the doors.

And he froze, stopping still as stone.

He was not alone. There was something...the room, it was warmer than it should have been. But only slightly. His eyes flickered from corner to corner, shadow to shadow. Nothing. He moved his hand slowly, carefully, down to draw Helgarn from his belt.

That was when he felt the cold steel blade. Instead of grasping Helgarn’s leather-wrapped haft his right hand encountered the edge of a bladed weapon, placed carefully above the pommel of his hammer. He felt another blade-edge come to rest just below his left ear. A voice, whispering: “You’ve grown slow in your dotage, old friend.” Boric smiled. The smile grew larger at the yelp of pain as a small flame erupted in his assailant’s left shoe.

Boric cleared his throat and forced a frown onto his face. The dwarf turned as he felt the blades leave his skin. “Abbathor take you and your Tel-cursed brain, Simon.” He held the frown as long as he could; only a few seconds passed as he scanned the cloaked elf from head to foot. Seeing the elf favor his left foot slightly, Boric beamed and charged at the elf, enveloping him in a bear hug.

Simon tolerated the physical contact, knowing that there were only a few individuals that would elicit such a response from the dwarf, and even fewer of elven origin. A High Old One of Moradin did not normally embrace elves, after all. It was not seemly and just was not done. But these two–and two others–had been through Hell and back together. They were a special exception to the generally accepted cultural mores: there were few elves or humans, after all, that had been witness to Moradin’s physical manifestation; fewer still that could count themselves as Moradin blessed dwarf-friends.

“Come in, my friend. Come and sit awhile. I’ll call for some refreshments. Hungry?” The elf inclined his head. Boric showed him through the heavy wooden doors into his inner chambers. It was a quiet, brightly lit library. Every space not devoted to book storage was filled with overstuffed chairs and cushioned sofas, accompanied by small reading tables. He spoke quickly into a horn hanging next to the door. “The ale and sandwiches will be up shortly. Now. Sit. Tell me what you’ve been doing. Not a one of us have heard from you since you brought our weapons back from...well, from your meeting with the Pantheon. Just a month ago I tried to reach the Rogue’s Wind, but my portal was blocked. I thought that was impossible.”

Simon shook his head. “I have only just returned from my...well. It is a long story. Let us call it my ‘remaking.’ The Gods tore me down in my pride. They left me my mind and my memories and took nearly everything else away from me. It was as if I was a youngling again, just coming from my first fostering. I had to relearn nearly everything, even things I thought I knew. I am...different, my friend. I am not the same elf you knew, Boric. I am close, but...well, you’ll see. It is difficult to explain.” The two friends looked up at the knock on the chamber door, and the pudgy dwarf bringing in two massive platters of sandwich fixings and drink.

For the next several hours the two friends ate, drank, and talked. Simon did much of the talking, although Boric asked his share of questions. Much of the time the dwarf sat in awe at the experiences his friend had endured. It was clear that his friend had been lucky...or extremely blessed by the Gods. Boric could tell differences in the elf’s speech and gestures. He HAD changed, but Boric thought “For the better.” He was just ever-so-slightly more serious and thoughtful. His pride no longer radiated like a hot forge. Boric nodded. “These changes mean something, and not something altogether bad.”

“So, my friend, I come to you for a favor. Several, actually. I am going to meet with Jason. I have questions about a weapon...an object.... I believe it comes from his world and I feel that he has some answers that I need. I must go armed, for his world is....” Boric smiled as the elf searched for the correct word. “I understand, Simon. The one time I journeyed there was quite uncomfortable.” Simon nodded. “As good a word as any, my friend. I must go armed, but, well, I have grown accustomed to different weapons than you would expect.” For the first time, Boric looked down to the sheathed weapons at Simon’s side.

His eyes widened and he half-rose out of his seat. “AXES, Simon?!? By Moradin’s Beard, axes?!”

Simon nodded. “I have, for now, adopted the axe as my favored weapon. It is, in some ways, more inelegant than the sword, but has its charms nonetheless. In part, they were adopted in honor of Moradin, as respect and devotion to the All-Father all but requires I adopt his favored weapon.” Boric smiled; the axe was the weapon of Clangeddin Silverbeard, not the All-Father, but as Clangeddin was a closely allied with Moradin, he did not think the All-Father would mind, and thus, left Simon uncorrected. “But my blades are part of the favor I must ask. I cannot carry my swords with me; out of my presence, they are at risk of theft. Anyone that knows me would look first at the Rogue’s Wind for my priceless blades. However, if they were to be stored here...well, our enemies would neither think to look here for them–elven cultural artifacts at the heart of a dwarven stronghold–nor would an attempt to retrieve them from here be successful.”

“You do me and my hearth great honor, Simon. Of course I will look after the blades; in fact, I’m surprised you thought you would need to ask. They will be given highest place in my personal armory. I can assure you, they will be touched by no hand but mine and thine.”

“I knew that I could count on you, my friend.” Simon reached into the bag on his back and withdrew the two long, graceful elven blades. He handed them over to Boric, who took them reverently and gently. Boric disappeared into the next chamber and reappeared a few minutes later without the swords. “It is done. They are safe, Simon.”

Simon rose and embraced the dwarf. “Thank you, old friend. It means much to me. Now, as much as it pains me, I must take my leave. I have to prepare to meet with Jason and I have...other...tasks...before me. We will meet again soon. I will send a message the normal way; meet me with the others at Myth Drannor. I can tell you more at that time.”

Boric turned to put his stein down on the table. When he turned back, the elf was gone. On the air he thought he heard the words, “I hope.”