Monday, May 23, 2005

D&D Eberron Story - Rough Draft - Chapter 1
Well, this is a rough draft of the first chapter of the story I'm writting based off our D&D campaign. Obviously, this stuff is mostly material NOT in the game session. Next chapter begins detailing most of the events of our first session. There is a bit more work to be done, and I'm hoping I got the characterization down. In some cases, I didn't have enough characterization... so I had to sort of make it up, or base it off the player. (There is also one point where I still don't have an idea of where exactly Azrieal comes from. This shall be taken care of when I talk with Levi about the choices I have for him.) Without further ado, the first chapter!

Eberron Campaign Story

Chapter 1 - Action! Adventure! And then some...

He had expected to see his mother at graduation. His
father not showing up wasn't expected. The young half elf was
dressed in full regalia, that expected of a young noble of House
Lyrandaar. A long coat with blues and greys intricately woven into
a shifting pattern of color by glammerweave threads. A velvet
vest with silken shirt beneath it, with a nearly glowing necklace
with the House signet dangling in front of his chest. While the
young man was used to looking as if a class of his own, he was
not used to looking so over the top. It was as his mother wished
of course.
The young man pushed the long silver-blue hair out from
in front of his eyes, watching as the line leading up to the Dean
of Mongrave University. He was a bit fidgety, as he watched the
other graduating students step up onto the stage, a great open-
air amphatheater that stood atop one of the great spires of
Sharn. Parents from all over Khoravire had gathered to watch
their students graduate from the university. Mixed in the crowd
of parents were also quite a many untold patrons of the various
Dragonmarked Houses, and other institutions of learning and
adventuring. The graduation wasn't as much a ceremony for the
students, as much as a display of potential new allies, minions,
and bids for power among the houses and organizations that acted
in Sharn and through all of Khoravire.
The young half elf grinned, his emerald green eyes
turning towards his mother in the audience. To her, this was all
a show to prove that she had produced a potential heir of at
least some competence. The only reason he was even graduating
today and meant anything to her was because of the mark that had
manifested upon his back.
"Tolarin d' Lyrandaar," the Dean called out as the
student that had been in front of him had walked down the stairs
and off the stage. The Dean held a new paper in hand, and looked
to the young half elf for him to accept his diploma.
Tolarin smiled, speaking under his breath, "Time to use
that charisma of yours..." He began to take dignified steps up
the stage to accept his diploma from the Dean. There was a roar
of clapping as Tolarin walked onto the stage, from his fellow
peers, to those who knew of his status. For many students, while
suspected of being something "special", it was the first time
they knew Tolarin as one of the Dragonmarked, and not just some
half-elf of a degree of wealth. He came to the Dean and nodded
his head, accepting the diploma, and holding it out to the
audience, bowing to them and to the Dean, shaking his hand
firmly. One last smile to both the audience and the dean, and
Tolarin began to walk off the stage.
Wrapped up, the diploma was meant to signify Tolarin's
knowledge in Ancient History and Cultures, but the scroll held no
real meaning to the young half-elf. He knew it was only for show.
Something to prove that he was worth something to the House
Lyrandaar.
Tolarin joined his mother, glancing at her one moment,
her attention still upon the stage. He looked towards the stage
as well, letting the night slide on.
"You don't look like you're packing up to come home," a
voice said from behind Tolarin in his room. Tolarin turned to see
his father, "So I would assume you have other plans."
Tolarin glanced at the note lying on his table, bearing
the House insignia upon it, a letter of congratulations from his
mother... most likely with all the noble trimmings and nothing of
her feelings or personal thoughts. Tolarin hadn't opened it, nor
did he intend to.
"You're mother wants you to come home. I'm pretty certain
she wouldn't be happy to see this," his father said, scratching
his head. Taris d'Lyrandaar was a rugged man, in a long worn
brown duster and a leather armor. He had long dark blue hair and
bright blue eyes. He rubbed his chin, "But then, she isn't
around, now is she?"
Tolarin laughed a bit, "Where were you? I didn't see you
at my graduation."
"I was here, I just couldn't stand being around your
mother and her entourage. I found a spot, perhaps a little less
nice then what your mother had, but at least I didn't have to
politely clap and act like I cared about any other students."
"Heh," Tolarin chuckled, "I'm not sure if I should take
that as a compliment or not."
"Just pretend it is," his father said, "So if you aren't
going to return home, then what do you plan on doing?"
Tolarin sort of shrugged, taking off his jacket, "I
haven't fully decided yet. I could sign on to some adventuring
group. I wouldn't mind heading back to Xen'Drik."
Taris nodded, "So you're thinking of just being reckless
until either you die, your mother tracks you down, or your become
amazingly rich. Or burn out. Whichever comes first?"
The young half-elf scratched the back of his head, "Well,
that's not the way I would put it. I mean, I have a few ideas
brewing in my head."
Taris shook his head, "What are you going to do without
me, Tolarin?" He handed Tolarin a letter, and headed to the door,
"One of my friends was looking for some adventurers to look into
some news down in the lower levels of Sharn. I don't know all the
details, but it should get you some money, give you something to
do, and it's at least some fashion of a direction for you." Taris
opened the door, then turned back and took a package that sat
next to Tolarin's door, handing it to him, "You might like this
as well."
Tolarin took the package and opened it up, pulling out a
sword, with a blue and green scabbard, with a nicely crafted
emerald and metal hilt. Tolarin pulled the rapier from the
scabbard, "It's a masterpiece."
"Well, it is a good sword. Fitting for you, I would
think," Taris said, laughing a bit, "I had my smith make me one
for you. I thought it was time for you to have your own sword. If
you're going to really get into this adventuring thing, then you
are gonna need a good sword at your side." Taris touched the two
rapiers at his side, "Maybe two?"
Tolarin laughed a bit, "I'll keep it with me always."
"You better take good care of it. You can find the
sharpening stones and polishing kits in the bottom of the box.
You best take good care of that sword. It is a good rapier. Well
balanced."
"You have my word, father!"
Taris waved as he began to walk out the door, "Also, I
booked a meeting with one of my smiths for your armor. You'll
find the info in that letter for you. Heh, I'll keep your mother
off you for a bit. Good luck!"
"Thanks..." Tolarin laughed a bit, watching his father
walk away, and closing the door to look back at the sword. Just
beyond it was the letter from his mother. He picked it up and
threw it into the trash, never looking back at it.

****

The rugged man walked with his head held high, not out of
pride, but out of amazement. Since they had passed First Tower,
his focus had been on the high spires of the city of Sharn. His
silver hair blew in the wind as his amber eyes crossed each of
the spires that stretched high into the skies of the City of
Towers.
"This is your first time in Sharn, isn't it?" A young
woman next to him spoke. She had a wide smile on her face, her
eyes glued to the rugged warrior. She laughed a bit, "The towers
go up, and up, and up! You can get really dizzy if you're not
careful."
Azrieal nodded, looking around him. The two fighters were
riding upon a small launch that seemed to sail through the sky.
He wasn't entirely sure he felt safe upon the boat, but his
partner seemed at home on the ship.
Lim Papaya was laughing as she looked off the edge of the
ship, looking down the towers and great bridges that crossed
them. The young woman had light black hair with brown strands in
it, slender and short in stature, with a finely tuned body ready
for battle. Her face however, wasn't that of a hardened warrior,
but a cheerful young woman... not much older then her late teens.
She laughed a bit, playing with her hair, as her bangs fluttered
in the wind.
"Is it safe for you to sit near the edge?" The man spoke,
more matter of factly then out of concern.
Lim shrugged, laughing a bit, "It's safe. I've ridden on
these sky boats countless number of times. You don't need to
worry about me."
The warrior shrugged, looking up agian as the towers of
Sharn passed him overhead. Lim took a deep breath, her cheeks
puffing out a bit, turning away from him and looking in a
different direction.

The Sky Boat docked at one of the towers of Sharn, the
pilot saying a few magic words, and the winds that bellowed
around the ship died off. "We've arrived at the Tyris Tower. Fare is 4
gold pieces."
"4 gold pieces?!" Azrieal stood up, gripping his sword,
glaring at the pilot.
"Azri," Lim said, standing up to diffuse the situation,
"it was better to pay 4 gold then to walk all the way here. Don't
worry, I'll pay the man his goldies... You just get off the ship,
okay?"
The man grumbled as he stepped off the ship. Lim quickly
and politely paid the pilot, giving him a little extra as she
turned to quickly follow Azrieal.
The two fighters had gotten together only a few months
ago. Azrieal had a sort of lack of luck, and that lack had a
tendency to be projected outwards as well. Lim on the other hand,
seemed to have luck on her side. The young woman found the dark
man intriguing, at the very least. Ever since, they had been
adventuring together. At the least, Azrieal found her assistance
to be helpful in the tasks he under took, most of which had a
tendency to "allow" him to resort to using his trust blade.
Lim hopped at the great arch of the tower that stood
before them, "Could you hurry up just a bit? I don't want to be
late!"
Azrieal sighed a bit as he came to the arch, "Could you
calm down just a bit."
"I got my first jobs here. How can I calm down? If we
want goldies, we're gonna have to get work, right? And I can get
us work!" Lim laughed a bit, shaking her fist, "You don't have a
better idea, do you?"
He shook his head, looking away, "Go ahead, lead me on.
We better be able to beat heads in."

****
The young man's thick heavy robes swayed as he moved
through the library of Mongrave University. He came upon one of
many archways, holding a crystal stone, looking in. It was a dark
chamber, save for a work desk with a recess. He stepped through
the archway, upon an arcane circle, placing the glyphstone down
upon the recess. It lit brightly, casting a blue light upon the
chamber, the archway sealing up. The darkness around him suddenly
began to spin and swirl, and book cases began to circle around
him. Even with his arcane training, the magical power that flowed
around him amazed him. He looked down a bit, the dizzying power
making even his understanding of reality pale.
The bookcases finally came into place around him. His eyes
rose back upon the bookcases. He looked across the spines of the
books, magical theories written by the sages of Sharn and
Breland. Melchia set the books down, opening them up, his grey
eyes browsing the pages.
He pushed his hand through is thick, rough, brown hair.
His skin wasn't as pale of other of his profession, most of his
experience was gained through trial instead of pure book study,
much to the annoyance of his mentor.
Melchia groaned a bit, as he put aside the first book,
and picked up the next one.
The young Karrathan wizard stepped out of the University,
sighing a bit, as he looked over to the large ceremony occurring
on one of the towers of the University. Many, many, people were
gathered, as lights from floating platforms shot down upon a
stage.
"Must be graduation," Melchia shook his head, and began
to walk down the large bridge that spanned across the spires of
Sharn. "So useless."
He came to a stop about halfway across the bridge, coming
to the edge of it, putting his hands on the ornate railing of the
bridgeway. The city went straight up and down for nearly a mile,
it seemed. Below, led to the dark layers of the city, to
mysteries of anicent times of Khoravire. Whereas, above, there
were floating neighborhoods, magical flying roadways, and endless
advances in high magic. Almost more then any other city in
Khoravire, Sharn was a place of nearly all magic. It wasn't
specialized, or inhibited by a doctrine, or bound to a particular
flavor of magic. All variety of magic could be found in the city,
and it was here, that he felt he could create the solid
foundation towards his understanding of magic that he sought for.
He turned away and began walking once more to the next
tower.
"So, you have no maps to any of the ruins of Sharn?"
Melchia asked, a little bit shocked.
The artificer shook his head, "I mainly deal in artifacts
coming in from Xen'drik. The cogs of Sharn do no interest me in
the ways that the magical technologies of Xen'drik do."
"Oh?" Melchia said, a bit interested, "What kind of
technologies?"
"Very strange, technology that with only little
modification works with our own. I've heard stories of anicent
technology that is compatible with our Warforged technology."
"The same basic principles, eh?" The artifcer nodded.
Just then, a hulking form of armor came walking into the
room, it's dull red eyes looking upon the two, a bit sullen in
it's speech, "You know, I would perfer you not refer to me as
just some form of technology."
"Well," the artificer said, "You know I don't mean that.
But you have to admit, the idea that there is something similar
to you in Xen'drik must interest you."
The warforged, a sentient living construct of wood and
metal, nodded, "I may in fact be more then just mere technology."
Melchia rubbed his chin, "Perhaps. So, where might I find
more information on the underbelly and ruins of this city?"
"Hmmmm... well, I do have a friend who is looking for
some brave souls to delve deep into Dorasharn... how about I have
you meet him?"

****
Issac sat in his brown leather chair, turned away from
his desk, looking out into the endless spires that was Sharn. He
drew in the smoke of the burning smoking weed in his pipe,
letting the hot gas pour down into his lungs, holding it for a
moment and savoring the burning sensation until he let it out,
passing out in a puff of smoke that seemed to rise through the
spires.
The door to his office opened, and he slowly turned
around in his chair, facing his desk. His young half-elf
secretary was standing in the door, smiling to him, "Sir, as you
requested, I've looked through the applicants, and I believe I
have found four who will do quite nicely."
She laid four files down upon his desk. He held his pipe
in one hand, his other hand combed through his thick brown hair.
He opened the first file to see the traveling papers of a young
man from Karranth. His secretary filled in the details, "This
man's traveling through Sharn. From what I could gather from
Lancis, he's a young mage. He's shown interest in the ruins."
"Mage, eh?" Issac rubbed his chin, rough from a 5 o'clock
shadow, "He's not going to cause any trouble."
"He seems too young to cause any real trouble for us.
Yet."
Issac put aside the folder and opened the next one,
revealing sets of papers, for a young man by the name of Tolarin,
"Ah yes, Tolarin. Taris told me he would like him to work for me.
I think we can definitely give him a chance. Taris is a good man,
I can't believe his son to be any less."
Issac put Tolarin's file aside, and moved on to the next
one, opening it up to reveal another young man, a traveler from
(Eh, whatever country Azrieal comes from, most likely Doroam or the Shadow Marches. I have to speak with Levi about these ideas…). There were a few
additional notes of "incidents" he had gotten into with not only
Sharn's city watch, but other nations, "Oh, and who is this?"
"Azrieal. Lim brought him with her. She's the last
member. He's a little bit of a rough and tough character, but I
think he'll do good with the group."
Issac flipped through the last file, then set it down
with the other four, "This is the party you have for me, Ari?
Care to explain."
Ari smiled, her golden eyes and red hair giving her a
distinct head start advantage, "You need a group capable of
handling any sort of situation if you want them to accomplish
what you have planned. You have someone who's quick with their
mind, another who is quick with his words, someone who's charming
and keeps the group in check, and someone to fall back upon when
a strong stout blade is needed. For the task you need, this party
is perfect."
Issac chuckled a bit, "You're learning this game pretty
well. Alright, bring them in."

****
"As you have undoubtly guessed," Issac said, looking
between the crew assembled in his office, "We are a local office
of the Korrenberg Chronicle. We're mostly a freelance reporting
group. This gives us a great deal of freedom, but puts a good
deal of strain on us as well."
"We have the freedom of being independent from the main
offices. We do not have to answer to them. We are allowed to
cover the stories we wish, in the methods we wish. However, we
are not the only freelance journalism group out there. As such,
not only must we provide a quantity that is up to standards with
the Korrenberg Chronicle, we must also provide a quality."
Azrieal was looking at Lim, scowling a bit, "Journalism?
I'm no writer!" He grabbed the handle to his sword, making his
point all the more dramatic.
Tolarin looked at the brash warrior, "I do believe he's
not finished yet."
Issac nodded, "Journalism of the our sort isn't confined
to the desk. Writing from a desk only leads to boring stories,
deattached stories, stories that can not apply to the common man.
Our stories need to show the emotions of Khoravire and Sharn.
They must appeal to the people, while at the same time, inform
the people of what is going on around them."
"I do not believe in "desk journalism", I am a staunch
believer in field journalism. What I am looking for, is writing
that come from people on the front lines of the issues that make
up Sharn. This is not just writing the news. This is experiencing
it."
"This new, edgier, more modern style of journalism takes
a special kind of person. Or in this case, a certain type of
people. People who can investigate the news, who can talk with
the people, who can relate to the people, and can take action
when needed."
Melchia raised an eyebrow, "You call that journalism?"
"I call it realism," Issac said, pointing his pipe at the
young mage, "People want to know the full story, and the only way
we can truly tell them the full story is to immerse ourselves in
it."
Tolarin looked at Issac, "A new name for a classic band
of adventurers. Perhaps we should have a bard?"
Issac shook his head, "I believe this job is right up
your alley, if you choose to at least give me a chance to explain
it."
Tolarin held out his hands, "By all means."
"As long as I get to punch face," Azrieal muttered,
interupted by cursing as Lim kicked him in the shin.
"As you may know, Sharn has a sort of deep underbelly to
it. In this reigon, many of those unable to fit in with the
mainstream Sharn culture takes up residence. Lately, rumors have
begun to build of some goblinoid cult taking up residence in
Dorasharn. I believe this would make a good piece for the Sharn
section of the Korrenberg Chronicles, do you not think so?"
Tolarin nodded a bit, "Do you know anything about the
cult?"
"I do not. All I get is hear say. However, I do believe
that I know of a man who may be able to get you information.
Wonderlegs should be able to tell you anything you need to know
about this cult."
"So you have no idea of it's purpose, at all?" Melchia
said, looking at him, his eyes narrowed.
"I know that many of the residents of Dorasharn speak in
hushed tones and in fear of the cults, but beyond that... I know
little else."
Azrieal scoffed a bit, "And how much are we going to get
paid for this little errand?"
Issac nooded a bit, "400 gold each. A flat fee for your
services to our office."
Most of them seemed content, but Azrieal was taken a bit
back, "Only 400?! I best be able to kill these cultists."
"If harm should come to you, you will be able to use
whatever force you find necessary. Our office will back you up,
to a reasonable degree." Issac's words were pointed directly
towards the rash fighter.
He turned his head and laughed, "Fine, as long as I get
to kill things, I'll take on this job."
Tolarin shook his head a bit, laughing, then turned to
Issac, "Where can we find this Wonderlegs guy?"
"I'd look in the Rusty Spoon. It's his kind of tavern."
Issac said, taking a puff off his pipe, letting the smoke rise in
front of his face.
Tolarin shrugged, looking at his other party members,
"Well then, who's up to drinking?”


Comments (2)