Eberron: The Seed of Corruption (IC)

[Darkantra]

The end of the Last War brought about the end of the greatest country and the most thriving metropolis in the world. Some believe that it was the will of the gods themselves, some believe that it was the dragon Eberron himself, but most believe it to be a weapon of unfathomable power.

Every power had worked on their own secret plans and weapons, objects and spells that would bring pain and destruction on a scale that would dwarf conventional weapons. When Cyre was rendered a wasteland a different fate awaited these weapons; destroyed, hidden, disabled, they were all put to rest, for fear that their use would create a second Mournland.

But weapons themselves, and those prepared to use them, care not for the potential for harm, only the power that can be gained from their use.



The journey starts in the small town of Arcanix, a magical wonder that is awe-inspiring to those not versed in the wonders that the arcane can accomplish. A massive disc of stone and earth that floats in the sky, with towers and other buildings jutting out of it to reach further heights. A small village lies directly below the disc, mostly just a few taverns and trading posts that have taken advantage of the protection offered by the wizards.

For Andy:

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You’ve spent the last week trying to work your way into the confidence of the Master Wizards of the tower. For the second day in a row you’ve tried to file for an occupancy in a visitor’s room but now you’re being ushered back to the surface by a pock-marked faced youth, who seems to scowl at your efforts to be admitted to Arcanix. He himself is an admitted full member, but he has delighted in trying to stall the process while claiming to be showing you around.

The sun is dipping down to the horizon, and the wizened clerk has already shuffled you out of the Forms Office. You’ll have to return tomorrow to fill out the same forms yet again. The young man giggles to himself as he takes you to the entrance platform.

“So old man, I hate to say it but you’d better give up, the Masters just told me that your forms have gone missing again.” He laughs to himself, “What are the odds?”

For John and Rob:

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As part of a deal to travel with the caravan from Xandrar to Passage you have been helping the regular guards keep watch over the caravan for the last week, though you’ve seen only other travelers and the occasional wild beast on the road.

The caravan is owned by Maston d’Orien, an older man that seems used to the road and a column of figures, and his second in command, a shifter named Krellig, who keeps the whole thing running. Over the last week you’ve all seen a younger man, his left arm carrying a blackish purple dragonmark, following the two around like a dog at heel and paying great attention to how the caravan is run.

Maston has called for the caravan to hitch up and stay for the night at the small cluster of building underneath the towers. After walking away from the caravan Maston is met by a man in blue robes. They shake hands and walk away between the few buildings, the young Orien boy in tow.

Several of the drivers and hands spend time that should be spent stabling animals and securing tarps goggling at the towers. They start to work quickly though, as someone starts walking up and down the line growling and giving the distracted men swift kicks to the arse to get them moving again. As he finally makes it down to your group the shifter, Krellig, is limping slightly from all the booting.

"All right you lot, we’re staying the night here and setting out before mid-day tomorrow. You can do whatever you want but don’t expect Maston, me or the Orien kid to hold your hands if you do something stupid, we’ve got business with the wizards tonight and we don’t have time to waste on getting sellswords out of the lock-up."

He looks up at the towers and then down again to spit.

"Bloody wizards, just have to show off." You hear him mumble, "All right, you lot should get rooms at the Miscast Cantrip, decent enough place, but don’t get too drunk to get up in the morning. Any questions?"

The shifter obviously doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, and stands with his hairy arms folded over his chest in impatience.

[Porcelain]

For DM

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Barnabus seems to pay no heed to the boy's words as he pours over an old volume of early Aundair history, seemingly engrossed completely in his book but still able to avoid most objects in his path. The Raven Poe however is a bit less reserved.

"All you know is what you see. Thus, a surprise awaits for thee. A mighty hawk may circle near. And this, of course, you should rightly fear. For he is ever overly fond, of the biggest fish in the smallest pond.

Barnabus merely snickers quietly and continues with his book.

[Darkantra]

The wizard with Barnabus frowns at the raven before he understands the words and the insult behind them.

"Well, Master Olundiil may have some morbid fascination with you but the rest of us don't like all of you rejects coming here and expecting a free place in our order."

The kid grumbles as you continue along, but he can't seem to come up with a very witty rejoinder. After a minute of walking past yawning wizards and scholars you come to a neat circular hole in the stone that gives an unmatched view of earth below. Several students and even a full alumni are milling about the iron-wrought fence that encircles the hole. You would experience vertigo, but as your face is buried in a book you don't even notice the height.

The young wizard beside you hugs his red robes and glowers at you.

"You know, most of us wouldn't care if you could at least remember our names."

[roll a Wisdom check please]

[Porcelain]

Barnabus looks up from his book.

Hmm?

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[roll0]

[Darkantra]

Barnabus has trouble remembering anything about the kid guiding him, but has the unwavering notion that his name is Frank.

[Porcelain]

Nonsense Frank, my skills of perseption are without peer!

This would of course have been far more effective had Barnabus been talking to boy and not a nearby shrub.

Poe mearly rolls his eyes,

It is better to keep ones mouth closed and let others think you a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt.

[Darkantra]

'Frank' starts shaking with rage and spits out a colorful phrase in Draconic, causing some of the other mages around him to give him funny looks. He spins around in anger and starts muttering to himself.

Spot and Listen checks for you and Poe please.

[gaidaigoji]

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* post roll count doesn't match database

[gaidaigoji]

STUPID GIANT

KissyKick - (1d20+54)[59] FFEFEFEYZRJ

[Porcelain]

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Barnabus Spot[roll0]Listen [roll1]
I'm not sure about poe's modifiers so i'll just roll d 20 spot[roll2] listen [roll3]

[Darkantra]

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What the heck is wrong with my game, huh Giant?

(1d20-9)[11]

[Darkantra]

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Wowzas, guess I'll roll for Andy some more

Listen - (1d20-9)[2]

Poe
Spot - (1d20+5)[23]
Listen - (1d20+3)[7]

(1d20+12)[20] <- figure this one out...

Poe ***** his head and jerks it along to the rhythm of the kid's mumbling. Suddenly though he squawks right into Barnabas' ear.

"While fools play in Aureon's fount, an evil trick will be played to count. If you're the expert in your class, surely you will stop this ass!"

'Frank' turns around, giving Poe the evil eye before brushing his robes and waiting calmly for the lift to arrive.

[gaidaigoji]

OOC: Please bare with me as this is new to me.

Kairi regarded Krellig and simply rolled her eyes as she knew what to expect on this kind of job.

"Yeah I got it," she spoke with what sounded like boredom but then her eye lit up at the prospect of getting some good ale into her, it had been a while.

"If you need me I'll be at the Mistcast Cantrip!" she bounded off.

My Character (Not complete yet)

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http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=57033

[Darkantra]

Barnabus

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With a rumble of stone the platform slides into it's empty space and the gate around the edge drops into the ground, out of sight. The mages around you make deferential nods to the people who travelled up with the stone, even 'Frank' does so too while muttering, "Master Deveron."

You remember that Deveron is one of the ten Masters of Arcanix, specifically the Master of Artifice, in charge of the college's creation projects. He is a half-elf of medium build and friendly in disposition, from what you've seen of him. Several small mechanical creatures swarm over his body as he steps off of the platform and a mechanical cat with wings comes flapping in to land on his shoulder and lick him with a mechanical tongue. The two others with him follow as he leads them off towards the administrative section, the older man riffling through his attache case for something and the younger one gawking so much that he almost drops the box he's carrying.

Once the master has been on his way everyone starts moving onto the disc. 'Frank' pokes your shoulder and smiles oddly at you.

"Alright get on the lift. I suppose that I'll have to see you tomorrow."

Kairi

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Krellig grunts as you skip away and begins yelling at the hands to get the caravan packed up. The town underneath Arcanix isn't too big, though it seems to have a disproportionate number of inns and bars. You see a group of laughing students in brown apprentice robes enter a place called Tenser's Mighty Keg by flicking sparks off of their fingers to open the doors. The Miscast Cantrip is just opposite of Tenser's, and from the people entering it, it seems to cater to everyone rather than just wizards.

The Cantrip is a well-built two-floored construction of wood and stone. A sign hangs above the door of a drunken wizard with harmless sparks flying out of one hand and a tankard in the other. The common room is filled with chattering locals and more than a few wizards populate the tables. Upon entering a gnome with an ale-stained cooking apron waves you over to the bar.

“Just a second, just a second…” the gnome gives the wrench in his hands a hard twist and leans back with a sigh, “There, new spigot installed. You with the caravan, cause we usually cater to Maston’s hires on his runs. Name’s Sprigot. So what'll it be then?”