A
ArmoredScout
Guest
Original poster
The robust, and yet steadily aging Warlord stood at the peak of his magnificent Keep, the house of Averam, claimers of the previously uninhabited isle of Akhuilon. Tendrick D'Averam was a tired man, and serving under the Warlord Gaiselic, of Suda, for many years had worn him down. Carving out his own corner of paradise had cost him the last of his formerly dark hair, leaving him grey, with high widows peaks.
Nevertheless, the fruits of the labors of years had been many. A beautiful home, a secured fortune the likes of which even his great grandchildren might never dig to the bottom of, and of course the loyalty of many good natured folken and the desires of many religious and archaeological societies that had much want to delve into the ruins that dominated the western half of his home. Indeed, what had drawn him to conquer, or at least make habitable, this land had been a map he had flitched from the 'Holy Emperor' Gaiselic's personal collection, a depiction of the island and rough, but navigable directions.
The ruins of the oldest empire of the world of Ur, those who worshiped Ka-Alaa, the God of Sin and Death, were said to be based far out to sea, far from the wars of the Gods and nestled at the mouth of an ancient volcano. Allowing folken to investigate these ruins at their own peril had brought much fortune and prosperity to the people of Misthaven, a beautiful wife to his side, and a daughter and heir to his home. And yet, despite almost everything having seemed set to allow him to enjoy his time left on Ur, all was not well on the western front.
A few members of a religious sect that referred to themselves as the Children of the Change had begun to quietly make their way to the island, some three months ago. At first, they had seemed harmless, having heaped more than enough gold into Tendrick's coffers that he had their travels to the western half expedited, on the premise that the research they were intending to conduct might have incredible benefits to Tendrick's rule as Warlord.. And could perhaps lead to the conquering of additional islands, nearby. Had he not bought into their generosity, he might've seen the farce far before their ship ever disgraced his docks, but the presence of glittering gold tends to far remove ones better judgement.
The first thing the Children had done was disrupt the portals of the ancient empire, instantly cutting off the western half of the island from the eastern, and disrupting both the archaeologist's camp and any chance of aiding them against the coming slaughter. The Children proved to be adept mages and invokers, and soon the western half crawled with horrors and warriors both forcibly indoctrinated with hypnotism and mind warping, and beasts and men whom had signed on to the cult's true cause willingly. A veritable army had been raised, and soon after the ruins had been thoroughly claimed by the mystics, they had turned their sights on Misthaven and her affable inhabitants.
For three months they had been under siege by an enemy whom existed solely to terrify and weaken her from within. Townsfolk often disappeared in the night, found skewered on the gates or later discovered to have been forcibly indoctrinated into the ranks of the Children. His guardsmen, such as they were, were terrified to fight back, and so the gates were sealed and the watchmen were left to pace the streets in fear. Even in his own keep, when the bastard cultists had made an attempt on him, it was he whom had struck the killing blow on his attacker, and not his personal guardians, whom had been drawn away by the sounds of ruinous chanting and rituals from outside the room of his...
Daughter. His daughter was gone, taken by the Cult. She had always been adept with the magic of the old empire, and from youth had been honing her arts for gentle things, healing the sick and giving peace to the dying. She had been taken and he now had no choice. To go to another Warlord would be suicide, for they cared little for him. At best, he would be made a puppet ruler, at worst he and Misthaven would be steamrolled for the resources. He would try something of a different bent.
Many folken whom considered themselves better than being directly involved in the various battlefields of the Warlords of the mainland took a knack to adventure and mercenary work. He had a trio of ships dispatched up and down the western coast of the mainland, providing a call for men and women who would fight for coin, glory, and the possibility of additional awards and benefits, based on desire. Money was no object, and no cost could truly be considered too great, for his life, his land, and his heir were on the line.
The three ships returned to him on calm seas, under his watchful gaze. He would send an envoy to the docks to greet them, and direct them to the Keep at once. He stepped away from the balcony as the ships pulled in close enough to be obstructed by the walls of the city, and through his daughters now dusty and seemingly forgotten bed chambers, towards his throne room, and the possibility of salvation at the hands of strangers.
Nevertheless, the fruits of the labors of years had been many. A beautiful home, a secured fortune the likes of which even his great grandchildren might never dig to the bottom of, and of course the loyalty of many good natured folken and the desires of many religious and archaeological societies that had much want to delve into the ruins that dominated the western half of his home. Indeed, what had drawn him to conquer, or at least make habitable, this land had been a map he had flitched from the 'Holy Emperor' Gaiselic's personal collection, a depiction of the island and rough, but navigable directions.
The ruins of the oldest empire of the world of Ur, those who worshiped Ka-Alaa, the God of Sin and Death, were said to be based far out to sea, far from the wars of the Gods and nestled at the mouth of an ancient volcano. Allowing folken to investigate these ruins at their own peril had brought much fortune and prosperity to the people of Misthaven, a beautiful wife to his side, and a daughter and heir to his home. And yet, despite almost everything having seemed set to allow him to enjoy his time left on Ur, all was not well on the western front.
A few members of a religious sect that referred to themselves as the Children of the Change had begun to quietly make their way to the island, some three months ago. At first, they had seemed harmless, having heaped more than enough gold into Tendrick's coffers that he had their travels to the western half expedited, on the premise that the research they were intending to conduct might have incredible benefits to Tendrick's rule as Warlord.. And could perhaps lead to the conquering of additional islands, nearby. Had he not bought into their generosity, he might've seen the farce far before their ship ever disgraced his docks, but the presence of glittering gold tends to far remove ones better judgement.
The first thing the Children had done was disrupt the portals of the ancient empire, instantly cutting off the western half of the island from the eastern, and disrupting both the archaeologist's camp and any chance of aiding them against the coming slaughter. The Children proved to be adept mages and invokers, and soon the western half crawled with horrors and warriors both forcibly indoctrinated with hypnotism and mind warping, and beasts and men whom had signed on to the cult's true cause willingly. A veritable army had been raised, and soon after the ruins had been thoroughly claimed by the mystics, they had turned their sights on Misthaven and her affable inhabitants.
For three months they had been under siege by an enemy whom existed solely to terrify and weaken her from within. Townsfolk often disappeared in the night, found skewered on the gates or later discovered to have been forcibly indoctrinated into the ranks of the Children. His guardsmen, such as they were, were terrified to fight back, and so the gates were sealed and the watchmen were left to pace the streets in fear. Even in his own keep, when the bastard cultists had made an attempt on him, it was he whom had struck the killing blow on his attacker, and not his personal guardians, whom had been drawn away by the sounds of ruinous chanting and rituals from outside the room of his...
Daughter. His daughter was gone, taken by the Cult. She had always been adept with the magic of the old empire, and from youth had been honing her arts for gentle things, healing the sick and giving peace to the dying. She had been taken and he now had no choice. To go to another Warlord would be suicide, for they cared little for him. At best, he would be made a puppet ruler, at worst he and Misthaven would be steamrolled for the resources. He would try something of a different bent.
Many folken whom considered themselves better than being directly involved in the various battlefields of the Warlords of the mainland took a knack to adventure and mercenary work. He had a trio of ships dispatched up and down the western coast of the mainland, providing a call for men and women who would fight for coin, glory, and the possibility of additional awards and benefits, based on desire. Money was no object, and no cost could truly be considered too great, for his life, his land, and his heir were on the line.
The three ships returned to him on calm seas, under his watchful gaze. He would send an envoy to the docks to greet them, and direct them to the Keep at once. He stepped away from the balcony as the ships pulled in close enough to be obstructed by the walls of the city, and through his daughters now dusty and seemingly forgotten bed chambers, towards his throne room, and the possibility of salvation at the hands of strangers.
Hello, and welcome to the interest check for A Call for Mercenaries, a thread that I've spent some time brainstorming, as well as being my first ever attempt at hosting one.
The plot centers around the struggles of one Tendrick D'Averam and his island kingdom of Misthaven, against malicious attack and possible destruction at the hands of a mystic and secretive cult, the Children of the Change. The failure of his armies and guardians to defend his people, himself, and his heir has lead him into a desperate situation: a need to call upon the unusual, dangerous, and occasionally untrustworthy adventurers of the mainland to save his kingdom from destruction.
As a first time GM, I've got an interest in putting together a relatively small group, 5 to 8 people, to run the thread for. The players will be taking over the role of outsiders being hired on to handle an ever-worsening problem, heroes (or possibly other less-than-scrupulous folk) well regarded for their strength, guile, magical skill, or some combination of the above. Lured by the prospect of gold, and an open ended statement of "Fulfillment of Desires", these adventurers will need to work together in order to tackle the mystical menace that is the Children of the Change.
Regarding magic: to keep it simple, magic in this setting is handled by the use of Talismans, of which there are 12 known to the world of Ur. These talismans embody concepts of the world, and are capable of bending reality to the will of the user if they are strong enough to manipulate the talismans power. They are;
- Life
- Moon
- Soul
- Sky
- Sun
- Stars
- Earth
- Law
- Chaos
- Ocean
- Ward
- Death
Regarding setting: The world of Ur is a world befret of its Gods, as after the apocalyptic war known as the Cataclysm, Ur is a world shattered, scattered, and struggling to survive. Even three hundred years after the final battle of the gods and their subsequent abandonment, the scars of the cataclysm still mar the landscape and shape life on the mainland. Only in recent time have things become prosperous enough to begin to spread out from the home continent and colonize other lands, met with mixed results. Lord Tendrick is one of the lucky few to truly excel in this field, at least until his recent misfortunes.
The setting of the thread will be the island of Akhuilon, the home of an ancient and mysterious empire long forgotten after the Cataclysm. Akhuilon is a verdant paradise compared to the blasted landscape of the mainland, full of forests alive with game, with a large long dormant volcano in its center, dotted with caves long abandoned, possibly laden with the loot of the dead. On the east, is the settlement of Misthaven, Lord Tendricks domain. To the west, around the massive volcano, the crumbling remnants of the old empire, now made into the primary base of operations of the Children.
Our plot begins with the arrival of the players by ship to Misthaven, being escorted by the local guard up to Tendrick's keep to be briefed by the lord and his advisor on the nature of their mission. From there, the party will have to decide the best way to begin tackling the Cult and its minions, and how to reach the western half of the island.
If there are any more questions, or need for more elaboration, please feel free to drop a comment! I'd absolutely love to host this thread for some enterprising folks in the near future. Thank you for any constructive criticism in advance!
Last edited by a moderator:
