The Scroll of Rebirth was a roleplay that resulted from a challenge I gave to myself. A good writer should be able to make a story about anything even if picked randomly. Used a deck of my brothers Yu-gi-oh Cards and the Scroll of Rebirth card was what I drew. From there I came up with the story. About a great underground kingdom where one young talented mage discovered what he was sure the secret to immortality was in some ancient ruins and transcribed it to a scroll to study further. Hence the name the Scroll of Rebirth. The story of course had a main villain and took inspiration from many works of fiction mixing them together. Ironically enough I knew nothing of the underdark in DND at that time. I am of course more than willing to change things about and breath some new life into it. I think I’ll post the original two starting posts below if you wish to take a look for the story’s beginning. [hider=Scroll of Rebirth] The Scroll of Rebirth In the underground kingdom of Arith there exists one tower where all the magical knowledge is stored and studied. The Mage's Tower contains over 200 different rooms not including the various hidden doors and magical barriers that have sealed off different sections from students and even in some cases the teachers and masters. In the 7th month of the year 158 the discovery of the knowledge of immortality by the mage Martin Travis was written down on a scroll. Martin Travis then placed a curse on the Nether Tunnels where he had discovered the secret and traveled north to what is currently called Wizard’s Bane Cavern. It was to the west of the cavern that he founded the Mage’s new tower and gathered Wizards of all sorts to study the scroll he had written. As the new order was being established it attracted the eye of many unwanted creatures and outcast magicians. The records and knowledge was secured safely in the new tower but the experimentation was all conducted in the Cavern near by. IVAR STONEHART was a mage who had dabbled into the beginnings of necromancy. Mirabel Caster was a powerful sorceress who advocated on Ivar’s behalf. Reluctantly Martin agreed to let him come. It then that everything began to unravel. Attacks and mishaps increased resulting the death of more than a few prominent Mages. Martin Travis suspected treachery after finding several things misplaced several times when he came in the morning. Martin waited in the cavern at night to see if the culprit would come. He found not one but two. He watched silently as Ivar and Mirabel both cast spells and chanted over the script of the scroll. Martin recognized the ancient tongue of demons. It was one that necromancers often used in their incantations. He watched as the words he had written down glowed in response. They were making strides in unraveling the mystery he had copied from the ruins. Martin waited until they were gone and then approached the scroll. It took him the rest of the night to create the magical circles and traps. But he finished his work before the others awoke and then left, calling one of the younger mages, who he trusted, to deliver a message to the elder wizards telling them of what he had found out last night. Martin then retired saying that he felt ill and left the work to others for the day. In his chambers he rested readying himself for the coming night when he planned to confront Ivar and Mirabel. When night arrived he entered the cavern secretly as he had before and waited. When Ivar entered the room he was carrying a scroll and strode up to where Martin’s scroll was and began to transcribe Martin’s writing. It was then that Martin realized what had happened. Somehow the word had come around that he had seen the two of them last night and now that they had been discovered they had planned to create a copy of the scroll and leave. Because of the spells laid on the scroll at the beginning of its research it would be clear to all that Ivar had transcribed a copy and fled. Martin was glad that he had not told anyone that he had planned to act tonight. Martin whispered a small fire spell under his breath and cast it on the parchment in Ivar’s hand. Ivar yelled as the scroll in his hand burst into flames. “Clever Martin to destroy the paper in my hand so I would not be alerted to the attack. However, you should not have come alone.” Martin blocked Ivar’s frost attack with a magical barrier spell he had prepared while Ivar was speaking. And then answered Ivar’s attack with a powerful fireball. The battle went on between them with neither side gaining any clear advantage. Ivar had finally had enough of exchanging spells and hid behind a stone pillar. Speaking the ancient language of the lost ones he summoned from the grave a binding spirit that reached up from the ground with ghostly hands and held Martin in place. Exhausted and spent from his battle with Martin he tried to gather together the last bit of energy he had to finish him off for good. “You put up a valiant fight Martin but this is the end.” Ivar turned shot out an electric spell from his wand that would stop Martin’s heart. A spell circle then glowed over where Martin was standing and negated the attack. Ivar’s eyes grew wide. “Surely you didn’t think I was idle after you had left last night. Your fate was sealed the moment you chose to confront me in this cavern Ivar.” Martin broke the binding spell that held him. He then summoned a poisonous snake that shot out from his wand and bit Ivar on the arm. “This battle is decided Ivar.” Ivar smiled “Yes, it is.” Ivar cast the necromancer’s linked curse on Martin. “If I die then so do you. Our lives are one.” Ivar knew it was only a matter of time before the poison killed them both. But he also knew that Mirabel was already on her way to collect him. “Farewell Martin it’s been fun.” Ivar vanished as Mirabel teleported him to her side and they escaped together. Martin finally undid the curse but not before his body had been badly damaged by the spell. After the others came in and found him asleep on the stone floor, they set about the task of healing him. It was decided that the scroll, though for the moment safe, was too much of a risk to have around. And so, they spent several days preparing to seal off the cavern completely until the location of Ivar and Mirabel would be revealed and they could end the threat they represented. High-level traps and seals were placed on the cavern that today is known as Wizard’s Bane because no one person could know all the curses and spells that are protecting the scroll. And the many that have tried have ended up dying sometime soon after. The year is now 276 of the 4th month. 118 years after the events that led to the sealing of the Scroll of Rebirth. Martin Travis has been dead for over two years. The kingdom of Arith has come to be the dominate power in the around the Mage’s tower after waging a long and bloody war with the Lycans (a wolf/humanoid race) in the South-west, and with the Shifter’s (A blue-skinned race that resembles a mix between goblins and humans who can meld with the shadows) in the North-east. The goblins in the north were probably what saved the kingdom of Arith from defeat as they had bread over the course of a year to a large number uncheck by the Shifters who then had to protect their western borders from the masses of goblin marauders. It gave the Arith forces the time they needed to turn the tide. The peace treaty has been in effect for 8 years now and although tensions are still high. Arith has grown strong in this border province with the mass of immigrants and adventurers coming from the heartland. It is very unlikely that either the Lycan or the Shifters have the strength to fight against Arith even if they could combine their forces. Mabel Galihad is the daughter of Martin Travis and was widowed soon after she had her son Nerith Martin Galihad. Mabel was starting to feel the effects of age at 48 when she had Nerith and decided to step down from her honorary position of head instructor in order to take care of her son. She remains a part time instructor in the art of magical barriers. Ivar Stonehart still couldn’t believe what his eyes saw… Lying before him on the table was the notice, which spoke of Martin Travis’s death. There it was written in black ink, the great mage of the order was dead. Mirabel Caster opened his door and entered into his private chambers. A large the collection of tomes and crystals lay against the wall gathering dust. In more civilized parts of Arith they would be worth their weight in gold. Here they served only as reminders of their past. Ivar lifted his hand motioning for her to stop. Mirabel held her foot an inch above the floor. Ivar took his wand and tapped the leg of his chair, and a brilliant glow of purple shown from the intricately crafted circle now visible on the floor as Ivar stood up and walked to the center of it. Razing his wand up to his lips he blew and the circle disappeared. “Careful my dear. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.” His scarred face smiled hideously at her. His sickly ashen appearance was a testament to the effectiveness of Martin’s deadly use of poison in their battle over the Scroll. Even after all those years of exile he had never truly healed from it. Mirabel smiled back sweetly her flesh not yet corrupted by wounds or dark magic. “Ah yes… that would be a pity… what are your plans now that Martin Travis is dead.” The chamber’s flickering yellow candles mirrored his dark eyes as he considered. “In time everything will proceed according to our designs. But first…” Ivar strode past Mirabel into the hallway and down the through the cold stale corridor. The ancient cavern of some forgotten people who once had apparently ruled much of the underworld with an iron fist, it was now little more than a massive tomb, converted into the necromancers’ solitary fortress. Mirabel walked behind him matching his pace. “The adepts are reporting they are ready to commence the ritual sacrifice.” Ivar sneered. “Adepts… they haven’t a tenth of our talent.” Ivar raised his hand and the double doors parted to reveal the sacrificial champers. The whole place was alight with the glow of candles and red crystals, which were reflected in the fresh river of black goblin blood. The ancient stone pillars and alien statues that surrounded the circle of darkly clad adepts only added to the eeriness of their work. Ivar walked down the broken steps gracefully with Mirabel in tow, until he came to the alter where the sacrifice lay. Ivar gazed down with a malevolent smile at his gagged and bound apprentice. “You have served me well in this life Atton. May you serve me better in the next.” Ivar took the ritual stone knife in his hands and began to chant. The adepts began to repeat him, their voices echoing off the stone chambers in perfect harmony with Ivar’s own. Mirabel watched on the side as the spell took shape in the form of four wraiths. They approached the sacrifice rushing down upon him from the four winds forcing themselves inside the new host’s body. He twisted and turned but was held down by the adepts, his agony heard through his muffled mouth as he screamed in a tortured rage. Ivar’s voice fell silent, and everyone in the room hushed, all that could be heard was the labored breathing of the victim in that vast chamber. Dearest of friends Before you we bow Through this man’s end We summon you now Ivar drove the knife into the man’s heart. Atton started suddenly at the stab and then exhaled his last breath and relaxed into the arms of death. “Ashes to Ashes… Amen…” Ivar clapped his hands together making a terrible crack that broke through the still silence and pulled his hands apart straining to open them as before him the very air appeared to rend and tare. A thunderous sound shook the very halls of the tomb as reality ripped between the land of the dead and of the living. Ivar spread his hands out and addressed the portal. “Lords and Masters of the dead the hour of my release has come, our contract is broken!” Ivar reached towards the hole in space pulled out of realm of the dead the cursed spirits of the greatest necromancers ever to walk the path of the damned. The spirits sped quickly across the floor howling in their distress and anger. The acolytes screamed as their pitiful magic defenses were obliterated before the wraith of the Lords of the dead. Ivar’s eyes lit up in delight as he beheld the slaughter before him quick as lighting the ancient spirits of the dead moved through his followers. Mirabel calmly flicked her wand repelling any spirit that dared to try and take her. While Ivar welcomed them with a laugh, casting each spirit down that attacked him. He began to sing out the spell to bind them to his will. Fear and shadows all around No trumpet for you will ever sound The darkest ones of all my kind In my darkness I will bind The chamber quieted until all that remained was one spirit, which hovered over Atton’s dead body. Ivar raised his wand and pointed at his apprentice’s body. “Now for my challenger, Greyhelm the Wise, a body prepared for you from my apprentice that died.” He gathered his will to cast the spell, careful not weaken himself as he struggled to maintain control over all his captive spirits. The flesh of Atton cracked and broke soaking the alter with a deep crimson red, and from his body his bones gashed out slowly rising out of its fleshy cocoon. The bones floated in midair and snapped together, cracking as it was set down on its feet for the first time all its joints fitting in place. The spirit entered into the bone matter and its eyes lit with a glowing blue flame. “Grayhelm will be bound to no living man!” His was voice airy and cold. Ivar wasted no time with banter. As soon as Grayhelm was fully intergraded into his host’s bones he attacked. Ivar whispered a spell of fire and shot it straight at Grayhelm. Grayhelm blocked it with a wave of his hand shielding himself in ice, and quickly shattering it into a thousand pointed shards, which he shot back at Ivar. Ivar snarled and clamped down hard on the spirits trying to escape him. With a whirl and whisper he created a vortex that gathered the all of the ice shards together focusing them into one pointed attack which he held back with all that was left of his willpower. With an earth shattering cry Ivar threw it back at his adversary breaking the Lich’s defenses and slamming him against the wall. Ivar quickly reached for Atton’s soul and sent it to the Lich binding his apprentice’s life force to Grayhelm’s soul. Ivar smiled as all the spirits submitted themselves to his will, Grayhelm the Wise now bound bowed his knee to him. “What would you have us do my lord.” Ivar finally relaxed exhausted from the incantations and brief combat. “Welcome my servants. We have much left to do…” [/hider] As you can see I hadn't learned the art of spaces for each section of dialog at the time. However, I did get to play this with three others, and it was getting quite exciting when the site crashed, and everything was lost. -_- It was always intended to be a young magic students get in over their heads kind of adventure. (Fantasy college magic academy kind of deal) But we never did quite get to flushing out more of the underground world or the surface. All our characters managed to trap themselves in a hidden forbidden part of the library that made their hair stand on end and then bye-bye multiply pages of forum play.