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Dungeons and Dragons: Primus Gaia (Sign-ups open)

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Welcome Adventurers, to Primus Gaia

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This is an ancient land steeped in history, overflowing with endless perils and equally endless opportunity. For even the most humble of farmhands can hold the potential to become legend. Most commonfolk wouldn't dare to venture away from civilisation, in fear of what may lurk in the dark. But you, weary traveller, are different. You seek something that cannot be found in the cosy confines of your home, what you seek lies beyond, in the uncharted length and breadth of the world itself. There also happens to be much coin, glory and self-discovery thrust upon those of such bravery and strength of character, should you survive what the world, and the worlds beyond this one have in store for you.

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The Lands of Primus Gaia

The Continent of Nirinos


 Said to be the oldest area of civilisation, the now small landmass of Nirinos to the north of the world has never been the same after the Maelstrom that clove the ground in two. All islands and countries were a part of Nirinos long ago. Home to the hub of Arcane Discovery in the capital of Ranvar, also know as "The City of Everything", Nirinos still has many mysteries to uncover. The wilderness here is particularly dangerous, with many attempts to settle new towns foiled by the creatures and forces of the world.


Fustora, Land of the Chimera

This large landmass located towards the south of the world is home to three powerful empires; The Leo Dynasty, The Kingdom of the Goat, and the Serpent Clans. They are constantly in a state of unrest towards each other, with battle and wars breaking out frequently in their bloody histories. From the highest of noble bloodlines to the simple peasants in the streets, the tension of this land is always felt. In a state of recovery after the Apocalyptic Planar Rift War that occured 600 years ago against invading demonic forces, Fustora is in need of heroes now more than ever.


The Isle of Drakon-Zurr


 A small, powerful, and advanced desert island to the east, sitting on the equator of the world. It is home to the dominant, scaled Dragonborn Empire of Drakon, led by their High Pharaoh. This mysterious land is mostly insular and reclusive, with the sands obscuring the dark and untold tales of the ancient dragons. 

(If you have any questions regarding character creation or want something different than what is listed below, feel free to dm me on the Discord)

Available Races;

Half Elf
High Elf
Wood Elf
Half Orc
Dragonborn (A scaled, humanoid dragon. If chosen, specific your scale colour: Red, Green, Blue, Black, White, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Brass or Copper)
Tiefling (Demon/Infernal ancestry)
Genasi (Elemental Ancestry, either; Earth, Air, Fire or Water)
Aasimar (Celestial Ancestry)

Available Classes and Subclasses;

Barbarian (Subclasses: Berserker, Zealot, Totem Warrior, Ancestral Guardian)
Bard (Subclasses: Lore, Blade, Glamour, Whispers)
Cleric (Subclasses: Knowledge, Life, Light, Trickery, Nature, War, Forge, Grave, Tempest)
Druid (Subclasses: Moon, Land (Specify the landscape your Druid is from), Dream, Shepard)
Fighter (Subclasses: Battlemaster, Champion, Eldritch Knight, Cavalier, Arcane Archer, Samurai)
Monk (Subclasses: Open Hand, Four Elements, Shadow, Drunken Master, Kensai)
Paladin (Subclasses: Vengeance, Devotion, Nature, Conquest, Redemption)
Ranger (Subclasses: Hunter, Beastmaster, Horizonwalker)
Rogue (Subclasses: Assassin, Thief, Arcane Trickster, Swashbuckler, Inquisitive)
Sorcerer (Subclasses: Dragon Blood (Specify Colour from the Dragonborn Race list), Wild Magic, Divine Soul, Storm, Shadow)
Warlock (Subclasses: Fiend, Fey, Great Old One, Celestial)
Wizard (Subclasses: Evocation, Illusion, Conjuration, Necromancy, Divination, Enchantment, Abjuration, Transmutation)

(No more Rogues please, we have more than enough of them already)

Available Backgrounds;

Folk Hero
Guild Artisan

Sign up Sheet

Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon):
Physical Description:
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc):
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.):

Edited by Gwynfro

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Name: Arius
Age: 219
Race: High Elf
Subclass: Arcane Archer
Background: Sage
Based in Fustora

Physical Description: Long silver braided hair, with matching braided beard. Medium height and slender build. Scar across his left cheek from a near blinding accident in his younger years. Dark shadows under his eyes from late nights. Tattoos up his arm with the word "mindfulness" written in each new language he learns over his lifetime.

Fighting Style: Archer, weaves magic into attacks. 

Favoured Weapons/Gear: Arius wears a dark hood and top robe with light blue trim.  These are modified with leather armour allowing flexibility with accompanying finger-less gloves. A sapphire pendent hangs around his neck passed down from his mother.
He carries around a 'holy' bow, an ancient artefact he acquired while studying abroad many years ago, natural quiver. Secured under his backpack sits a gold spiral handled dagger n case of emergencies. An alchemy pouch to hold collected ingredients and potions.
Carries a wooden mask that has a ghoul like design carved into it on his belt to conceal his face during the nights when needed. 
Accompanied by a Raven who flies near by.

Backstory/Bio: Arius has made it his life mission to learn as much of the world as he can physically can. Decedent from a well off family of his home country he was raised inside the arcane colleges his father taught at. His friends were the other sages and mages instead of elves his own age which lead to him spending his hours learning new skills instead of indulging frivolous activities. Though this stunted his ability to form friendships his empathy for others wasn't thwarted.  
His mother had left him at a young age, only leaving behind the necklace he wears around his neck. His father always avoided talking about the circumstances until one night the rumours finally reach him about a attempts at necromancy reached his ear from drunken elders. Unsure of what the truth is he has been travelling the world to feed his hunger for knowledge but also in hopes he might stumble upon her one day. Along the way offering his skills to those in need as he travels from town to town such as hunting, protection ect.


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Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon):Fustora
Physical Description:White haired samurai(just search Gintoki Sakata)
Fighting Style:unpredictable movements,uses his surroundings very effectively
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.):a wooden and steel samurai sword 
Backstory/Bio:Shiro is a wandering samurai who goes to one battlefield to another to find scraps or materials that he can use in order to survive.Not much is known from his childhood since he has an amnesia,the only thing that he remember is that one day he woke up in the middle of nowhere starving and 2 swords beside him.This force him to do everything to survive,even creating new sword techniques that is unique and innovative.

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 Name: Echo Wilson
Age: 23
Race: Dragonborn (If chosen, specific your scale colour: Red, Green, Blue, Black, White, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Brass or Copper)
Class: Rogue 
Subclass: Swashbuckler
Background: Sailor
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Nirinos
Physical Description: Jet Black Hair, fairly tall, tanned skin
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc): Stealthy
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.): He's got a large dragon longsword and then a battle ax across his back
Backstory/Bio: Whatever you want it to be

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Name: Aaron North

Age: 31

Race: Dwarf

Class: Ranger

Subclass: Beastmaster

Background: Folk Hero

Based In: Drakon

Physical Description: Short blonde hair, lightweight, a little muscular

Fighting Style: Dexterous Fighter

Favoured Weapons/Gear: Basic Clothes as armor, personal items: a necklace given to Aaron by his father, weapons: A bow and a tanto.

Backstory/Bio: Can't really come up with anything.

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Name: Minef
Age: 17
Race: Half elf
Class: Rogue
Subclass: Thief
Background: Outlander
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Drakon
Physical Description: Long blonde hair, skinny but tall, extremely pale skin
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc): Stealthy/Manipulative
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.): A small knife he uses when he gets up close to his enemies through talking and a "walking stick" that uncoincidentally represents a magical staff
Backstory/Bio: Minef has always been a loner.  Cast out of his family at the young age of 10 for being "imperfect", he has learned to survive by whatever means necessary.  Killing, stealing, you name it, he's done it.  Over this time, he has developed many verbal skills that help him be successful in cheating and thieving his way to survival.  After 7 years, he is starting to get tired of the solo act and wants to team up to survive, even if it means having to kill his partner.

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Name: Gaius
Age: 22
Race: Human
Class: Fighter
Subclass: Battlemaster
Background: Outlander
Based in: Drakon
Physical Description: Tall, Well-Built, Black Hair in a Anime style.
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy, etc: Dexterous Fighter
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.): One-Handed Sword, possibly two at a time when needed, Blue Dragon Egg ( thought to be a random egg)
Backstory/Bio: Gaius grew up In America loving old tales of Medival times especially ones involving the aspects of his Favorite game DnD. His older brother gave him a book to read, but whilst reading it, he feel asleep and woke up on the island of Drakon from the book. Hearing old tales from the locals about Dragons, He sent to find a dragon but only found an egg but kept it for found. Leaving the Island of Drakon, Gaius sents out to find a way to return back to his home.


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Name: Steve
Age: 23
Race: Gnome
Class: Monk
Subclass: Drunken Master
Background: Entertainer 
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Nirinos
Physical Description: Small, Annoying, Agile, Black hair flat 
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc😞 Stealthy
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc. 😞 Glass or fists
Backstory/Bio: Steve's a comedian who loves to drink and is also a former monk who's become a monk again. He's not really sure whats going on but if you give him a good reason he'll fight for whoever.

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Name : Epic

Age : 29

Race : Human

class : fighter

subclass :Battlemaster

Background : Outlander

Based in Drakon

Well Built, Short Hair and medium Height

strength fighter

Double Edged Axe

Backstory: a fighter who has started from nothing, he feels like he needs to get more stronger to gain respect so in his free time he just trains.

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Chapter 1: A Tale of Scales

Drakon-Zurr, Year 3545, Third Age

The golden sands of the Topaz Desert shine and glisten as the midday sun spreads it's rays across the land. The eastern island of Drakon-Zurr is no stranger to such weather, with any visitors always unprepared and underestimating the climates. The city of Kuraz is one of the largest settlements in the known world, home to the mighty Dragonborn Empire. The almost otherworldly city is filled with architectural phenomena, pyramids marking the tombs of previous lords, layers of crops arranged in tiers. The grand palace stands directly in the centre of the city, a bastion of undisputed power. 

Even with all the grandeur and wonder, Drakon's hustle and bustle takes place down in the streets. A troupe of imposing Blue Dragonborn guards patrol the lower streets as a flicker of cloth is seen darting between the alleyways. This shrouded figure dodges nimbly, as if they know these streets and the guard patrols by hand. They hide on a rooftop as the guards pass by, along with a very angry-looking human merchant who is shouting profanities in Common. The hidden man smiles dryly under his hood as he rolls the bag of coin around in his hand. He fixes the long blonde hair that has fallen over his face behind his pointed ears before climbing back down, disappearing into the crowds.

Image result for Half-Elf Rogue Male Blond

A few streets down, a young Dwarf with blond hair and an impressive beard tugs a bounty poster off of the wall. He appears to mumble at a minuscule gecko on the wall before it scurries away. He sighs as he looks upon the poster, written in Draconic.

BOUNTY: Human-Monster Abominations, dead or alive (Proof must be provided)
Located north of Kuraz
10 Gold per follower
50 Gold per Hybrid Abomination
Consult Captain Karatorz at the western garrison for more information

The Dwarf nods slightly before rolling up the bounty paper and tucking it into his bag. For such a dangerous job, he couldn't do this alone. He then heads onwards a few paces to a tavern, The Desert Rose, a favourite amongst the locals. He saunters in, leading with his shoulder to wade through the much taller scaled patrons. 

Image result for Dwarf Archer

"One ale please" He says bluntly to the bartender, rolling 5 silver pieces along the bar. He quickly downs the drink and burps a little, only looking up as someone bumps into him. To his left is a well-built human in leather armour and a large Battle Axe slung over his back, he looks like someone who has seen many a bloody skirmish. 

Image result for D&D Human Battleaxe

"Hey watch it" the human says rudely.

"You bumped into me" The dwarf says defiantly. His eyes squint a little as he looks the human over, perhaps this person could help him. "Look, I'm in search of some people to help me kill some monsters out on the sands, you look like someone who can handle themselves, are you game?" The human's irritated expression turns to one of curiosity. "What monsters are we talking about here? And what pay are we talking about here? You can't be the guy with the cash"

The dwarf is unamused, but continues. "This guy is called Aaron North. And it's10 gold per follower, 50 per monster, are you in?" The human pauses for a good long while before downing his drink. "Sure, why not. I'm Epic, less go kill something. Come on, little man". North sighs and rolls his eyes, following his new companion out the door. Little did Aaron know that in the chaos of the tavern, his bounty poster was now missing from his satchel pocket, and in the hands of a blonde-haired Half Elf, who begins to tail the two adventurers cautiously.

In another part of Drakon, alone on the quiet shores of the Topaz Desert is a tall human with black hair with a sword at his side is setting up a small rowing boat on the sands. There was something soothing out the calm shore of Drakon, and something eerie, and foreboding. He would hope to row to Kuraz to hitch a ride to anywhere but here. He stumbles and stuggles with the boat, as he is clutching something swaddled in grey cloth in one hand. The manner in which he is holding it suggests that it is something of significant value.

After a few moments of pushing, the bow of the boat manages to kiss the water. Ominously, 5 shadows begin to cast over his back and the boat, the spins and draws his sword, a few clangs of metal ring out into the sky as the faint sound of a rattle takes it's place. He manages to get a mere glimpse at his attackers before his vision suddenly goes back as something strikes the side of his head, losing consciousness. The unsettling calm of the shore is met with with the shuffling sounds of dragging through the sand. 

Image result for D&D Human Two Swords

Our story does not only begin here, as there are many a tale to tell. To be Continued....

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Chapter 2: The Pale Tide

Nirinos, Year 3545, Third Age

Off the coast of Nirinos, the light of the sun bursting through the previously overcast skies, illuminating the cerulean seas that glisten like the gems stoned carved into the Dwarven mountain halls. The Sleeping Sea south of Nirinos are an incredibly popular route for trade ships, as the name suggests, the ocean there is phenomenally subdued and calm. Less chance of losing your cargo. However with this asset of trade comes those that would seek to leech off of it, for every 10 trade ships, a vessel of piracy would be skulking the waters. Even in calm waters, danger is always afoot.

The smell of salt is heavily in the air as a large cascade of wood is slowly washing through the Sleeping Sea, timber boards, coven barrels, water-logged ropes...and still bodies. The remnants of this ship are scattered for miles in the water, with survival looking unlikely.

Image result for Pirate Ship Gold Sails

As the remains of this vessel floats meekly in the ocean, the waters are disturbed and the sound is fulled with that of creaking wood, and rowdy voices. With it's shadow being cast over the wreckage, a large ship adorned in black paint and golden trim, with gleaming golden sails steadily comes to a stop. A number of it's crew begin searching and scavenging for salvageable good and loot. After a few minutes, one of the crew shouts aloud;

"We've got a survivor!" He bellows out to the ship.

The survivor of this wreckage is soon brought aboard. It takes a number of the deckhands to hoist him out of the dingy to the ship. They gently set down this hulking figure, possibly 6'5 or even taller, broad build, and clad in stark white scales, wearing sturdy leather armour with a large sword and axe at his side. He looks more like a dragon than a man, this was one of the Dragonborn of far off lands. The White dragonborn snorts and splutters to consciousness as the crew recoil in surprise. A few of them begin muttering about the dragonborn, some knowing who this is. 

Image result for White Dragonborn

"Get the captain, she'll want to see this" One of the crew stats. 

"Where....where am I?" The Dragonborn snarls as he looks over the crew, who are there own blend of anomalies; Humans, Dwarves, Elves, a couple of Half-Orcs and even the horned head of a Tiefling. The crew stay silent, some clutching their sword hilts in caution at the hulking scaled stranger on their ship. The Dragonborn can tell that they're quite well trained, given their stances, this is no ordinary crew of miscreants.

Soon someone new arrives into the Dragonborn's vision. A tall, flame-haired woman wearing a blueish-black uniform with gold trim, a scar on her left cheek. A rapier at her side and a lit cigar in her mouth, she walks up to the Dragonborn with a slight smirk and none of the trepidation her crew possess. Her voice is surprisingly refined and sophisticated for a sailor, perhaps she is off less unsavoury backgrounds than most.

Image result for Female Captain art

"Well well well, I didn't expect the Pale Tide himself to wash up onto my ship, on this day of all days. Listen up lads, we've got ourselves a devil of the seas on our deck. Tell me, what do you actually call yourself, Dragonborn? You can't have come up with Pale Tide yourself".

The scaled man growls a little. "My name is Echo. What am I doing here? What happened to my ship?" The captain lets out a hearty chuckle. "Oh, you're ship is scattered across the coast of Nirinos by now, or at least whats left of it" She inhales on her cigar and blows a puff of smoke in Echo's face, her smile is playful, but her glaring eyes are ones of authority and power. "You're speaking to Maria Valentine, Captain of 'The Midas'. Do you know that the Nirinos Guard have decent coin sitting around ready for your head? I don't think you want that do you? I don't like the sound of that either, why waste such a storied marauder of these waters. It's up to you, either we pass you over to the Ranvar Guard, or....you can join my crew, and reap the benefits that would entail. What'll it be, Pale Tide?"

Echo snorts at the smoke and scowls, being incarcerated in prison doesn't sound good, so joining them sounds like the lesser of two evils, given that they could just jump him now with overwhelming numbers. "Fine, I'll join your crew. What benefits are we talking here?"

Maria smiles widely at his agreement, her thumb fiddling with a deep blue ring on her middle finger. "Excellent, Im glad you're not dull enough to refuse my offer" Her eyebrow raises as he pries into their dealings. "Mmm, wouldn't you like to know. We're not some drunken boat of imbeciles that think they can make it in piracy. We engage in proper trade, but for those more interesting than your typical merchants".

Another voice pipes up from the crew, it was a small gnome with flat black hair, a wobbly smile and a bottle of rum in his hand. "We've got a few drunkards though, Cap'n, hehehah"

Maria rolls her eyes and shoots a glare at the Gnome before turning back to Echo. "Don't listen to Steven, he's useful...on occasion, in his own way. Lads, get your new brother a meal and a drink, and sharpen his weapons, we've got a long day ahead of us. Loose the sails! Trodey, set course for Crosswater".

To be Continued....

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Name: Blizzard
Age: 34
Race: Water Genasi
Class: Rogue
Subclass: Assassin
Background: Hermit
Based In: Nirinos

Physical Description: Aqua colored skin with white markings all over that he carved into himself while in solitude. White slicked back long hair with a matching beard. If he doesn't take time to maintain his hair, it floats freely as if he was underwater. Medium height with a slim toned build. Beads of moisture can be found across his skin and hair.

Fighting Style: Stealthy

Favoured Weapons/Gear: Wears a mask that covers his face up to his nose as well as leather gloves. Has a set of light armour that only covers his shoulders, forearms and lower leg which is built with scales forged into it. The rest of his body is covered in robes that lead to a hood. Blizzard usually makes use of his hand-crafted pair of daggers but for bigger troubles, he also carries an ancient trident that when he throws, generates a rope of water that keeps itself attached to its owner.

Backstory/Bio: Left to be an orphan, Blizzard grew up nameless just outside of a city run by a mafia that he would inevitably join at the young age of 14, using his powers to perform tasks of sin under the command of the boss. The boss would give Blizzard his name after witnessing his immense success in the field. After a few years, Blizzard would come to the realization that he was being used and that the boss would happily throw him aside when necessary so, in an attempt to escape whilst also undoing all his wrongdoings, Blizzard would murder the majority of the mafia, donating their riches to their victims, before then leaving the city. Blizzard would then spend years traveling, exploring and learning before making his way to Nirinos where he would settle down and live in solitude. Blizzard's experiences at such a young age have lead him to be almost completely serene. However, his years traveling have allowed him to broaden his knowledge and emotions. With over a decade in solitude, he has been able to reflect on himself and the entirety of the world, or at least what he has witness of it, allowing him to define what he believes is his true purpose.

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Name: Raylion
Age: 18
Race: Tiefling
Class: Rogue
Subclass: Thief
Background: Entertainer
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Drakon
Physical Description: Skinny, filled with scars from the past, short blond hair and is very skinny.
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc): Stealthy
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.): A knife on the side of the belt, he always carries with him a necklace given to him by his father at a very young age, he wears basic peasent clothes but with a luxury robe around his shoulders which was the one he stole from his tribe leader as a result of an uprising, this is to signify that a new royal was assigned.
Backstory/Bio: Living in a family that was abandoned by the society, his first intention was to learn to preach off others, his ablities as a thief reigned supreme when revolting against a tribe which he lived in as they treated the families horribly.

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Name: Rekkan Bladebraid
Age: 20
Race: Genasi (Fire)
Class: Rogue
Subclass: Assassin
Background: Outlander
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Fustora
Physical Description: Thin Muscular, long dark blue hair, full arm tattoo, slightly taller than average, dark red skin.
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy, etc): Stealthy/Spellcaster/Dexterous Fighter
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items, etc.): Twin Daggers/ Swords, Fire, fire incorporated with weapons. Always has poisons and healing potions on him, wears a hood most of the time. Carries a turquoise pendant/amulet with the rune for fire carved into it.
Backstory/Bio: Rekkan was born into a lower upper-class family (Like a poor wealthy person), but when he was five his family was killed in an attack. He was thrown into a riverbank and knocked unconscious. A man found him, and he happened to be a leader of an assassin's guild, named Dorian Westfall. He trained Rekkan to be a killing machine, and he was nothing less. He followed everything Dorian told him, until one day he found out from one of the guild members that two men from the guild were ordered by the man to kill his parents and older sister because the leader saw potential in Rekkan and didn't want his family in the way of him fulfilling his “true potential”. Rekkan murdered Dorian in a fit of rage, burning him alive. He became an outcast after that, an anti-hero of sorts, killing those who he deemed deserving. Until now...........

Edited by owendalton

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Chapter 3: A Drop in the Pond

In the southern reaches of the known world sits a large landmass that few of the north have ventured to. This land is called Fustora, and is home to 3 clashing forces. Fustora has always been polluted with strife and war, with neither side gaining the foothold they desire. In the capital of the Leo Dynasty, Graonindrel, the high elves lead command their elite forces and conduct their secret schemes. In the small streets of the city, far from prying eyes, the Pride Guard are seen investigating a vicious crime. A pool of blood slowly spreads the stone walkway, emanating from someone in lavish looking purple robes, and pointed ears, lifeless on the cold earth. The shifting mass of orange capes show several Pride Guard moving to calm the situation, directing the public away from the graphic scene. A top the shingled belltower roof, perched on the ornamental creatures carved to protect it's boundaries, is an unusual humanoid clad in dark cloth, only a shock of red visible in the face.

Related image

The mysterious man pulls out a small scroll of parchment, writing onto it with a dark blue feather. He nods as the quill is lifted from the page, the dark ink's words of "It is done" sinking into the scroll and dissipating. The shrouded figure then falls out of sight, leaving no trace of their presence.

In the squashed crowds down below is a high elf with silver-braided hair, and a well kept silver beard, with a longbow over his shoulder. He peers past the Pride Guard to get a glimpse at the incident, noting that the guards are questioning a tall man with short white hair and a sullen expression in the street next to the body. Also of note is the purple robes of the deceased, they would not be the colours of the commonfolk, this person must be of somewhat importance, maybe even a part of the local gentry. 

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Driven to know more, the silver-haired elf begins roaming the area, discreetly listening in on the gossip of the city guard, using a little bit of magic to assist with hearing in the sea of people gathered to the commotion. The elf's eyebrows raise slightly at what he hears from two guards slacking on their duties, thinking that they';; be unheard down a different alleyway.

"Well, so much for Chancellor Vihinrah. Looks like I won't be getting any cuts from him anymore"

"Yes, me neither. Damn, do we still look the other way to his work?"

"I don't know....we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, keep it quiet for now".

The silver-haired elf frowns at this information, repeating it in his thoughts 'Chancellor Vihinrah is dead? And he was involved in something that is being hushed behind closed doors. Hmmm, curious. How did he die? and why? If someone as prominent as he has been targeted by the wrong people, we could be looking at more war and bloodshed to come'.

The Elf walks his way through the crowds, he was going to find out why all of this is happening, and hopefully put a stop to it before it's too late.


To be Continued....

Edited by Gwynfro

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Name: Hanzio
Age: 30
Race: Half Orc
Class: Rogue 
Subclass: Theif
Background: Criminal
Based in (Nirinos, Fustora or Drakon): Drakon
Physical Description: Think Finn Balor
Fighting Style (Archer, Dexterous Fighter, Strength Fighter, Spellcaster, Stealthy etc): Stealthy
Favoured Weapons/Gear (Armour, Personal items etc.): Anything that helps in being sneaky, throwing knifes, bow and arrow

Hanzio was raised as a fighter by his father, constantly going to war with his two older brothers. It wasn't until he was a teenager that he ran away from home, killing his father and promising to start a new life. But things weren't as easy as he once thought, and he mastered his craft in the art of stealing. He stole and sold everything he could, food, jewels, and even pets. He has never been caught, and most people don't even know his true name, only going under the name "Blackhood" around his hometown. 

Hanzio uses his advance parkour and silent skills to advance his tactics and quite possibly is the best thief in the lands

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Chapter 4: Earthen Sea

The Topaz Desert, Year 3545, Third Age

Hours of marching. Hours upon hours with only one colour in site, the pale orange of the sands beneath their feet. North and Epic shuffle their way through the delicate ground, often losing their footing as the shifting sands were ever in motion. It's heat radiating up through their feet, and each grain slipping it's way into their boots. The shimmering, sweltering sun was burning down upon them as it peaked over as midday hit. Poking out of the ground like an upward-facing phalanx of stone spears, were the remnants of very old temples and ruins. Their copper orange stone almost glowing in the noonday light. Where ancient monuments of a long-lost civilisation had once called their homes, lost and buried to the ever-encroaching sands of time.

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The Desert winds whipped and twirled over the rolling dunes, lifting a wave of sand grains up at any traveler foolish enough to get lost in it's open maze. North was ahead by a number of paces, shielding his eyes from the light scattering of earthen dust gusting it's way over the barren lands. Epic was less than cheery, rubbing his eyes incessantly, cursing this damned weather under his breath. 

"Are you sure we're not lost in this damn place, Dwarf?"

North was too busy peeking out through squinted eyes to listen, monitoring the horizon of dunes with adept vigilance.

"We're getting closer, keep going" He called back casually, glancing at the bounty page before pressing on. He allowed himself to drift and slide down the dune to the bottom. His tracks kicking up a small flourish of sand in his wake. Epic was grumbling and trying to hold his light hood over his face once he reached the top of the dune.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, their tracks were being followed. The slender Half-Elf was tracing the more than obvious footsteps of Epic. He could only see one set of tracks, as surprisingly, the stout dwarf was light-footed enough for his tracks to disappear into the insecure foundation that they walked upon. With his scarf and hood pulled tightly up to his face, Minef cunningly kept a generous distance from his marks. So much so that he would follow from an entire dune behind to avoid detection.

From atop the inscrutable dune that had infuriated him so, Epic exhaled deeply as he reached the top, looking down at the small spec that was his unusual companion at the bottom, who was wandering around this circular basin between the dunes curiously. 

However, in a slightest moment of instinct, his dallying at the elements had given him an edge. A few feet ahead of where North was standing, there was a shifting in the sands. Twisting and pulsing with movement.....and it was getting closer. Epic's eyes widened, too consumed in the moment to care about the whipping sands. "NORTH!!!" He called at the top of his lungs "Look out ahead!!" The dwarf turns as the growing mount of sand at reached him, taller than himself. He pulled his arm up to shield his eyes from the sudden and seismic explosion of earthen grains while he stepped back. North was sent flying back a good few feet by it's force. The dwarf cleared his eyes, and both of them gasped when they saw what was before them and the fog of sand cleared. 

Perched on six angular, pointed legs, the colour of it's armour a deep black, as black as the most opaque of oceans. It's hide bearing threatening red markings along the side, the warning to those who might take up the foolhardy challenge of fighting this beast. It's mouth was a wince-inducing image of fangs and teeth, gnashing as the sand poured off it's back. It's sharpened maw was flanked by two bulbous, intimidating claws, reaching nearly the entire length of the foul creature. That would be the worst part, were it not for the elevating tail it bore. Fading from the darkest black to the sickly yellow of a festered wound, it's tail, clad in carapace. It arched over it's armoured body like a hangman's noose, it's glowing and pulsating stinger poised to strike at any and all that would come near. It was a Pitfall Scorpion!

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North paled over as he fumbled for his bow, struggling to focus as the Scorpion's emergence had shifted much of the sand in this clearing, creating a sloped circumference leading all those trapped within it's area to be gradually pulled in by the sands, closer to the predator. He groaned as he knocked an arrow, loosing it towards the beast. It whistled and soared through the air, the beating sun glinting off the polished, pointed tip. Unfortunately, it found no purchase on the Scorpion's thick and durable carapace. The arthropod shuttered off the hit as it snapped it's claws and maw, the foreboding stinger hanging over it like a meat hook in an abattoir. 

Epic scowled, quickly reaching for his tremendous axe. "Hang on! Come here, beast! Come have a taste of some real steel!! AAHHHH!!!"

The last thing that Minef saw as he eclipsed his dune was Epic jumping off the edge of the sand mount ahead, weapon in hand. A small cascade of sand fell over him like snow. Something must've really disturbed the sand bed here to cause that. He drew his trusty knife and made haste towards the commotion.


To be Continued....

Edited by Gwynfro

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Chapter 5: Salt in the Air

Crosswater, Year 3545, Third Age

With their newest recruit merged into the crew, and the wind on their side, the crew of "The Midas" sail east. The golden sails catch the wind firmly, making it's voyage all the quicker. There were many a tale of "The Midas" spread around the taverns and streets of the Nirinos Capital, Ranvar. Some say that it's iron fittings were all made with gold, paid for by the Lord of Pentacles himself. Some say that it's crew have been cursed to drink molten gold for the rest of their days. While not a pirate ship, the aura of Captain Valentine and "The Midas" was well known amongst the common folk.

The young, but weathered lookout in the crow's nest pulls back his spyglass and motions to the crew below. "Crosswater up ahead, lads!" 

Echo emerges from below decks and walks to the side of the vessel, finding his way past the hustle and bustle of the crew, peering over the side at their fishing town destination. Crosswater was quite developed for a fishing town. Enough dock space for near 50 ships at any one time, and trade routes with most of the world beyond the isolated land of Nirinos. Many a merchant could make a fair living in this town, without being based in the much larger Ranvar or Azuul. 

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As The Midas docks into the harbour, it's darkened woods lightly nudging the pier as deckhands hurriedly jump ahead to tie the ship down. A number of workers and sailors on the docks notice the golden sails and exchange hushed whispers to one another.

The ramp falls and first mate Trodey walks on, finding the Dockmaster to document their arrival. Trodey Alku, more commonly referred to as Trodey Lightstone was quite the sight to see amongst the grimy individuals one would expect on the seas. A tanned, barrel-chested dwarf with bright blond locks, swept back down to his shoulders, with intricate braids and beads adorning them. His beard was trimmed shorter than most, but still decorated with various trinkets and baubles, matching his deep blue eyes. The dockmaster, an unfamiliar face to Trodey, starts giving him the hard sell. "You're not registered to be here today" He would say. Perhaps this new dockmaster didn't get the memo, or was colourblind to the ships sails. Either way, Trodey wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Echo steps his way down the ramp the the peer, his sheer mass causing the wood to creak under his weight. The busy dock workers around see the alabaster dragonborn and mutter to themselves once more, more tentatively this time, woe to anyone who would slight a man of such reputation in their midst. The smell of salt and sea was strong in Crosswater. Home to one of the largest fish markets in the country, it's wares were conspicuous to anyone setting foot within the town walls.

Captain Maria and Steven make land soon after, with the gnome downing the last of what was most likely his second bottle of rum, giving it a solid throw into the harbour. His small gnomish legs struggle to keep up with the determined strides of his captain, who approaches the dockmaster with Trodey, and produces a small item from her pocket. Immediately upon seeing this item, the dockmaster's expression changes, expressing his wildest and most sincere apologies. He ushers Maria, Trodey, Echo and Steven to the town, quickly making any paperwork trouble go away. Echo squints at this behaviour before looking at the Captain. "What was that about?" He says firmly. Maria chuckles as she strikes a match for her cigar.

"Just a little affirmation of my position, Echo, no need to concern yourself. We work for powerful people, and their influence is wide spread" She takes in inhale of her cigar as Trodey leads the way to a small alleyway across from the market. All kinds of goods were on sale here; Fresh Fish caught mere hours ago, fine silks and garments from Fustora, exotic-coloured spices and delicates from Drakon, questionable snake oils said to cure all ills, and gleaming jewellery and weapons from Metru Almas, the city of Diamond Gate.

As the crew shuffle their way through the small claustrophobic street they reach a sturdy wooden doorway, curiously with no handle on the outside, but a small shutter at about eye level. Maria knocks assertively and the shutter opens, a pair of eyes glaring out at them. "Who goes there?" The eyes flinch a little at the sight of the Captain.

"The Midas is here, open up" She states bluntly, holding the same item up to the shutter. Within moments, the sounds of large heavy bolts and locks clinking together reverberate through the door, before it's wooden form swings open with a slight creak. The crew enter as the shadowy figure behind the door bows to them sightly, a toothy grin shown from what little light there is. Maria leads the way down a set of spiral stairs into a smokey room full of tables and chairs, a long bar set to the right in the dark blue decor. The bar was mostly quiet, save for a few unsavoury looking types scattered around the room, clad in dark leathers and shrouds. 

Echo follows the captain with some trepidation as their sit at one of the tables, a serving girl quickly bringing them drinks, his new companions must be regulars here. "Some honey mead, is you please" The Dragonborn murmurs. Soon after their drinks arrive, a small, thin human man in sleek dark green robes approaches and sits at their table. He had short dark hair, with streaks of grey at the sides, and a small pointed goatee on his chin. The sly looking smile on his face, and the steely grey eyes gave Echo an uneasy feeling. 

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"Greetings my friends, glad to see you back so soon. I trust the Greenwall's cargo was reclaimed without complication?" The weaselly man said, placing a set of parchments and inkwell on the table. "Yes it was, apart from the crew of Drowned Ones" Captain Maria responded, taking a large gulp of her ale. "What's next on the docket, Broker? Oh yes, this is Echo, our newest member. Found him shipwrecked on the sleeping sea, thought he could be pretty useful".

The small man strokes his beard slightly and eyes up the white scales of the dragonborn. "Hmm, curious addition. The Pale Tide has many a grievous tale uttered in their name, I hope for your sake that they're true, and your talents aren't mere embellishment. Your next task is a bit more abstract, and most likely perilous". The Broker places a sheet of parchment in front of the crew. Upon it is an illustration of a mask, painted and depicting a sad, weeping face with a single tear falling from the right eye. "Kaz wants you to find this mask and bring it to him personally. It is called The Mask of Grief, one of many such rumoured artefacts from the days of the Blackfire Invasion. Head to Western Fustora, to the remnants of the Rotejin Empire, our research indicates that this mask may be somewhere on the coastline".

Steven pipes up as he stares at the drawing, too distracted by it to sip his drink. "I....I think I know of these.  These belonged to the Court of Many Faces, war masks of the high generals of Makrut, the Blackfire. I don't remember a Mask of Grief from the texts though. Blackfire is long gone, his armies are gone. What does Kaz want with an old relic of a time forgotten?"

The Broker pulls out more sheets of parchments, these ones baring long paragraphs of terms and conditions, along with a line to sign. "I don't worry myself with the Master's intentions. He hasn't led any of us astray before. If anything, such an antique would fetch quite the price to the right buyer....Anyway, please sign of you would, Lady Maria. 5,000 Gold pieces upon completion, as well as whatever provisions and supplies you may require". He offers the quill to the Captain.

Maria smirks and takes the quill, signing her name. "To Fustora it is then".


To be Continued....

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