Astarael42 — Roleplayer Guild

WARNING: If you are looking for a grand adventure about saving damsels/lads in distress and blasting dragons out of the sky with mighty spells then look someplace else! If your looking for a story about struggle, overwhelming odds, the beginnings of a hero/heroine, and the choices between justice and vengeance then welcome to Rites of Passage.

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While this story is already underway there are several openings due to players that have gone inactive from the guild and more people with a love of high fantasy worlds and character development would be very welcome. This adventure is easy to catch one up to speed and easy to add/remove characters at any point.

This adventure is set in the Wizards of the Coast Forgotten Realms, however while knowledge about FR is nice, it is not actually needed for the adventure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Here’s the set-up~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the continent of Faerun, in the world of the Forgotten Realms, the Time of Troubles has just ended. The godly pantheons have stabilized, the divine beings are no longer forced to walk the earth as mortals, and their powers are once again being fueled by their worshipers on the mortal plane. Gods, both good and evil, seek to secure a place in the heavenly and abyssal hierarchies and for some the acquisition of devoted followers, through any means necessary, is the only way they will achieve the dominance and influence they crave. For though Faerun is enjoying a much needed time of peace, a sigh of relief after a terrifying time in history, the wars of the heavens and hells are eternal. And there are deities from beyond Faerun, deities that would grow in secret and stealth until they can challenge even the great gods.

Much of this is unknown to you however and what you have heard is so wildly twisted and varied in story that it is impossible to know what exactly happened. It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of your world. Player Characters are children between the ages of 10-15. Most work hard all day long, either for their families or teachers to whom they have been apprenticed. Free time is rare and most of the day is devoted to work or study. They have all the problems and joys of a child of their age and station in life and while most are from laborer families a few might be street rats or from what constitutes and upper class in the small towns and villages living off the woods and rivers along the black road. Life is simple and usually very very busy. The needs of life and survival take precedence over imponderables and philosophy. Concerns over the squabbles of the gods rarely enter into day to day life, and while many might profess to be religious few have the dedication and devotion to have more than a basic grasp of Faerunian religion.

Few have lofty goals and for most children of the village it is assumed they will take after their parents or master. Their skills, their moral compass, and their personal and professional goals will be formed as they take on an adventure that will send them from rural village to bustling city to sea to jungle. These are your Rites of Passage.

This adventure is high-casual (character development and one or two paragraphs per post) preferred. The first OOC post is filled with all the specifics and details—come on over!

***********Group A********************

The inn of Raevyn’s Rest was empty, but it was an ordinary sort of empty. Once the children had explored, and they explored all over the place, it was plain that residents simply up and left. Why they up and left was not so clear, but it was a safe enough place to rest. There was little of high quality left, most had been taken when the owner and staff abandoned the place. What was left, however, was more than enough to satisfy the weary children.

The horse and goat were fed, watered, and stabled in a place with clean hay. The children found beds, blankets, and a huge fireplace and crafted their own resting spot which gave them a comfort they hadn’t had in awhile. Brisa even took the time to wash herself and her clothing and do something even more valuable, cook.

It was easy enough to forage in the gardens, though they were overgrown a bit, and return with a few fresh vegetables and some apples. In fact Brisa took time to pack daisy’s travel packs with apples, cornmeal, and potatoes. Not very exciting but she knew they would be a nice thing to have along the way. She also cooked corn cakes with honey, there were vats of honey in the larder that were large enough to climb into. The cakes were a nice treat, so was the warmth, the fairly vermin free quarters, the blankets, and the beds. All in all it was a wonderful place to rest, despite the emptiness of things.

In fact had there been people about the cost would have been high, the food likely no better, and the conversation much worse. It was almost relaxing after the hassles of the road, at least for Brisa. They talked of mundane things, things that kept at bay the reality of what they were doing. Things like what they should pack, if anyone found any valuables, and what they could make from what they found. Unfortunately only Argurios had much skill in crafting anything that might be useful in their present state.

Soon though, as most knew it must, the topic of conversation wound back to their present plans, and things started to get serious. Finally as they were winding down their talk Brisa pulled out what she had been working on these past few days.

“I have been trying to translate the words we found above…” She trailed off, swallowed hard thinking of Autry, and began again. “I have been trying to translate the words that were written above the bodies back in Twiddledale. It’s slow going, I only have Dakin’s book of maps to compare with. Unfortunately I only have managed to figure out “warning” and “death”. Unless I find more writings in whatever language this is I won’t get much farther than that.”

“When I was looking around here however, I found something else interesting. I found what had to be the owner’s office. It had a desk and writing supplies and such” She didn’t mention she took some ink and paper from the desk. Those things were valuable and she had no money. Since she was trained to record and write everything down it was driving her nuts not having paper and writing supplies. “I found a crumpled up paper in her office hearth, it wasn’t burned, it was more of she just tossed it in there. So I read it. It was a letter from a priest in Llorkh…he warned that there was danger coming this way. In his letter he said he was sending a similar letter to Aheric to warn him of the danger. He also mentioned he had sent a request to a friend who was also a church knight to come investigate the danger. He said to watch out for 3 ‘heathens’, 2 males and a female, professing to be clerics of an unknown god. He named them ‘Dessa,’ ‘Yog,’ & ‘Yamuna.’ Which I think must be the same people that Thovren’s father, Captain Sareth, was concerned about as well though his information didn't have any names, just descriptions. And I think they are the same strangers that visited Twiddledale not two ten-days past. Also Aeden the Bard had a letter that Kaya translated, sort of, that warned about people of the same name. It's too much similarity, they have to be behind this...or at least know who is. Right?"

***************Group B*********************

For the solitary pair back in Twiddledale, sticking it out one more night in the abandoned town, it was a little less comfortable. The silence for one thing, it was oppressing. Despite the fact that animal life had returned to the area, and the animals in town were acting somewhat normally again, there was still and eeriness to the land that kept Aiden & Serra inside and behind a barred door. At least the fire in the grate crackled and sputtered like normal, and they ate well for food had been easy to find and plentiful.

It had taken some time to discuss what they would take; Serra’s cluelessness balanced out Aiden’s knowledge and they ended somewhere in the middle with a variety of useful and useless items. At least they had managed to include a few essentials that would make their lives much easier, unfortunately they had to carry it all on their own. Serra had an endurance far beyond one of her age and size, a result of her time spent as scullery maid and slave. Aiden had done this before. It was an advantage that would help them greatly, they had a long weary walk ahead of them in the morning.

At dawn Aiden returned to his father’s shop, to collect the final items he thought he would need while Serra carefully packed their chosen belongings. She had been one of the packing slaves on her trip from Llorkh to Twiddledale and had managed to develop a rather streamlined method. She also didn’t waste space. The packs, when she was done, were densely packed and deceptively heavy.

Before the sun was up more than two hours the pair were on their way and though it took much effort on both their parts they managed to shut the town’s gates behind them. They even took a moment to ‘lock’ it with the twine that had been on it when Aiden arrived. For whatever good that did.

They had been fortunate enough to have missed the rain on the road, it had hit them when they were still in town and where they were it had been only a light drizzle, not the torrents that the other children had to endure. But though they didn’t suffer the rain on the road they still had to suffer the mud. It had not dried out by the time they were on their way, though it wasn’t terribly deep. It did slow them down however, and make walking more tiresome than normal. Added to their heavy packs and by the third day of walking they were worn through. They were almost too tired to talk that evening, fortunately they had developed a routine of making camp that didn’t require talking. It did require them to be awake however, and that was growing increasingly difficult with their exhaustion growing each day.

*********Group A***************

Llorkh was the obvious place to go, with all the clues they had gathered. Plus it was the next town on the only road for hundreds of miles. Unfortunately There was no comfort, or hope, in knowing that someone in Llorkh might know what happened. Llorkh had suffered the same fate as Twiddledale, at least by Ronin's report. Brisa kept the letter she found however, so they could find the home of the priest that had written it. She hoped desperately that he, or possibly she, would have more information somwhere in their dwelling that would help track these people down. And if they were really really lucky, maybe they would find a clue as to what happened to the missing villagers. In the dark parts of her heart Brisa also hoped that she would be able to figure out some way to avenge Autry's murder with whatever clues they could find.

It was plain that Ronin’s knight master, who had also disappeared, was sent to investigate the troubles. That meant they had a way to bring the killers to justice, at least she thought they did. What she really wanted though was not justice, not really. She just wanted whoever killed Autry to suffer and die. The depth of that thought scared her and she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, frightened by her own mind despite the comfort of the beds and the warmth of the fire.

It was late, past midnight, when the raiders entered the Inn grounds. Clouds had gathered, blocking the moon and leaving precious little light to illuminate the grounds. That made it easy for the raiders, their scouts were nearly invisible as they padded into the area on light feet. Lack of light meant their spotted fur was dull, blending perfectly with the shadows. The pack animals scented them first and it was the warhorse that sounded the alarm.

A veteran of many battles the great beast was alert and on his feet the instant he scented strangers. Unwashed human scent, blood, and fur, and animal stink filled the air, carried on the breeze as the raiders approached. With a great whinny, loud enough to wake all near, the warhorse charged from the stables where he had been. He smashed the doors with his hooves, they were not made to withstand a charging animal of his size. He was a force to be reckoned with; trained not to shy at blood-stink but grow fiercer. Though he lacked his usual barding he still charged with a ferocity that gave the intruders pause.

Fifteen there were, bandits and thieves the lot of them. However three of them stood out among the rest. Not in a good way, they inspired fear and even a bit of horror for they had many features of both dog and human, but were neither. They walked upright, on two legs and were covered with dense spotty fur. Their torsos lean, hips narrow, and shoulders broad. They had thick cainine heads with heavy muzzles and carried weapons such as bows and blades with the skill and opposable thumbs of a human. All in all they were a monstrous mixture of both races and for those unused to the presence of gnolls they caused more than a slight panic.

gnolls [+]

The warhorse was used to them. While the race appeared monstrous in reality it was not all that uncommon and was completely natural. For many travelers gnolls were a common sight. They were as often likely to be an ally as a foe, their society as rich and complex as humans. Here, it was plain they were nothing more than bandits. Allied with a group of a dozen human bandits, they had scented the presence of fresh meat, goat and horse, at the inn and investigated. They were surprised by the presence of the warhorse, and indeed there was no mistaking a knights mount. The horse joined the fight without urging, using his teeth and hooves to great effect. Even the hide armor and shields carried by the bandits, gnoll and human alike, would not protect them from the deadly hooves of a trained destrier. It was no cowardly ladies mount to flee at the sight of danger. The goat on the other hand, frightened beyond all control, fled to the hills with terrified bleats. It would likely survive, goats could survive anywhere, but it had to escape the predators who would be just as happy to eat it as look at it. It’s speed was its safety, and its nimble hooves. It flew from the inn grounds and raced into the nearby rocky hills, seeking safety among the cliffs.

The raiders were driven by hunger and greed, in equal parts, and the presence of a warhorse meant there was another dwelling in one of the buildings. This was the human’s share of the treasure. The horse’s owner might have money, goods, weapons, armor, any number of valuables. The humans left the dog-like creatures to fight the warhorse while they began to systematically light fire to the roofs of each of the buildings to drive their quarry out. They were armed with simple weapons, ones easy to use like crossbows, clubs, and short swords, and while they were not greatly powerful weapons they numbered twelve fighters, and numbers always played a part in any fight no matter how much people tried to deny it. They assumed a knight would be their prize; they counted on superior numbers to match his superior fighting skill. A group of children would be an unexpected result; and a valuable one. This close to the desert slave caravans would be by at some point; child slaves fetched a decent price and slavery was still very much alive in the reaches of the desert.

***Group B (3 days time delay)***

The night was cool and comfortable and the pair of travelers had established a sort of rhythm. It was good however, that both were accustomed to sparse and un-varied rations for their food supplies depleted quicker than they thought. Fortunately one of them could fish, and Aiden had some skill providing them with fish on a nightly basis. They were never large fish, but they were enough that they were able to fill their bellies. Serra never liked fish, but she was also used to starvation and eating whatever she could in order to survive. She had eaten much nastier things than fish. So all in all they were in decent spirits save for their growing exhaustion.

It was hard for only two people to make a decent camp at night, a surprising amount of work went into making a comfortable camp. So the pair settled for an uncomfortable version. They were able to make fires to cook their food, but after that things got less comfortable. With only two of them, and their own exhaustion evident, they had to find safe places to sleep for the night. That was the uncomfortable part. A safe place to sleep was rarely a comfortable place to sleep. With only two of them and no way to keep watch throughout the night it was really their only option. It didn’t help their exhausted state much, but by the third day they had sort of come to tolerate it enough that they could get real sleep.

So when the morning of the fourth day dawned, they fortified themselves the dense dark brown rolls Serra had stolen from the baker in town and were in remarkably good shape and spirits. At least compared to what they should be, they had quite a bit of luck on their side. They didn’t know it but that was about to run out.

They caught the sound of voices first, people speaking but at this distance the words were unclear. Ahead, just around a blind corner, a wagon was overturned in the road. It blocked it, crosswise, halting anyone who wished to pass that way. It was an old and very common ambush tactic for brigands…in terrain like this where the forest pressed tight against the roads boundries, a simple obstacle in the road meant anyone passing that way would have to come to a halt. Then the bandits could strike, loot whatever of value they could, and be off. The three men who had been tasked with manning the ambush leaned lazily at the side of the road, jawing about who knows what. This section of the road had been empty of travelers and they resented being stationed here. It was a punishment, and they well knew it. Their resentment clouded their judgment and children had time to spot the ambush before the bandits noticed their presence.

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