RPG
Adventurer Logs
Character Histories
Cultural Writeup
House Rules
Gods of the World
World Maps
Ravenloft Logs
Heirlooms
Character Histories
Heirlooms: That which is most precious to us
Grasp close the things for which you care most.
The Dragon Coin
An ancient dragon coin from the time dragons and giants ruled the world. One side depicts a gold dragon rampant and the other side is indented with the shape of a dragon's thumb. This was from an ancient gold dragon's hoard. It was this dragon's wish that his remaining treasures be given to his offspring to allow him to forever guide his descendants. This item is attuned with a drop of blood and as long as the owner lives (or is revivable) a reddish stain with tint the images on the surface. If lost, it will appear under the descendant's head upon waking and the dragon's image seems to change depending on the angle. The proper owner may dream of an old man talking throughout the night next to a cozy fire. Only a blood descendant can attune the coin and the dragon's spirit will choose whether to accept the bond if the child is worthy.
Note: This was from Kaladin's grandfather's hoard and it was his grandfather's wish that his remaining treasures be given to his offspring to allow him to forever guide his descendants towards discovering their true bloodline.
Clutched:
A rather beaten, yet well loved tiny rag doll that brings back memories of a home from long ago.
The Great Wolf's Fang
There she told us that we had found the very bones of the Great Wolf Spirit himself, in one of his ancient earthly incarnations, and she taught us how to commune with him, albeit in a very limited fashion. Over time, our awareness of the Great Wolf Spirit grew, and, I think, his awareness of us grew, also. He became our patron, and we, his worshipers and followers, and we embraced the lupine characteristics that he seemed to be cultivating in us. Like the Barbarians of the Northern Wastes we hear tales of, we became strong and hardy and capable of entering a ferociously savage battle frenzy. Through his influence, the Grey Wolves gained a reputation for being extremely dangerous, especially to any who would cross us.
Clutched:
A well-used whetstone gotten from a slain den brother. If one couldn't sleep and was feeling restless, you could sharpen a blade with it. The rhythmic zen-like trance of using the whetstone would calm him and/or help him focus. On the dead. The slain. The murdered. And the vermined that did it.
The Lost Pocketwatch
A pocket watch with a continually spinning compass. Engraved with a road traveling into the rising sun.
Clutched:
A grandfather's trademark long-coat. Once a captain, always an officer and a gentleman. A beloved elder. Now all that is left is memories and his coat, which he was never seen without. When the rivers of memories pull you to sea, or the chill of a foreign land creep into your limbs, hold it tightly for the warmth of memories of a better time.
Bag of Bones
Filled with the bones of various animals. Who knows what would happen if one was consumed?
Clutched:
A smooth green stone from a mountain stream. It is the only memento from a previous life as an innocent woodland creature. Etched into it, the names of a mother, brothers, and sisters who will likely never be seen again. When one's guard is down melancholy wells up about a former life. held to remember a time when things were simpler. Ask no questions, for there are no answers here.
A Pretty Little Bird Cage
Is it a birdcage or a deathtrap? Birds fly in but nothing ever comes out.
Clutched:
A waterproof stuffed octopus. Perhaps a moment of a long lost pet.
Lock and Key Tattoo
A massive explosion of magic strong enough to break through the barrier of the void.
An elf found in the ruins as the only survivor.
A tattoo of a key on his arm and a lock on his neck.
The start of the greatest of mysteries.
Gothic Book of Nursery Rhymes
An ancient book of gothic nursery rhymes. Oddly enough every time you look through this tome the stories change. Do you dare speak them aloud?
Clutched:
A finely made overcoat that emits a sense of gravitas. Obviously once belonging to a noble family of high status. The odd proportions show that it wasn't quite tailored to the distribution you would expect for a human's limbs.
Deadwood Logs
The Cast
Maps
The Cast of Characters
We are all just one big happy dysfunctional monster family!
Kaladin Half-Dragon
Kaladin’s mother, Natrissa, and a rare winged teifling, was the victim of a ruthless gnome alchemist who kidnapped and used her as one of many experimental subjects. She was the only success and coincidentally the only survivor. Her very fundamental nature was changed and although it's unknown if she was immortal, she surely didn’t significantly age for several centuries. She knew this because she was still enslaved to this now immortal gnome for five more centuries. During this time, she became an accomplished alchemist in her own right by merit of serving the gnome savant for such an ungodly amount of time.
She was only rescued when the gnome’s reach exceeded his grasp and his depredations reached the ears of a gold dragon, Gruemar. Naturally, such evil was destined to be destroyed once that happened. His mother rescued, it's unknown exactly how nature took its course, but it did and Kaladin was born. His father visits rarely since he is kept busy with his errands for Bahamut and it’s been almost a century since he first visited after his birth. When he did, he seemed slightly befuddled that he had progeny. It didn't help that he took after his grandfather, a silver dragon. Although the meeting was awkward, he was pleasant and gave him an ancient dragon coin from the time dragons and giants ruled the world. One side depicts a gold dragon rampant and the other side is indented with the shape of a dragon’s thumb. This was from his grandfather’s hoard and it was his grandfather’s wish that his remaining treasures be given to his offspring to allow him to forever guide his descendants. When lost it will appear under the descendant’s head upon waking and the dragon’s image seems to change depending on the angle. Even a half-dragon counts and at night he sometimes dreams of talking in confidence with an old man.
Once his mother was rescued, her own tiefling family and village was gone, lost in the sands of time. Still, she found acceptance with an Arakocra enclave and although they look at them in askance on occasion they have been welcome among these flighty people over the years. As generations have passed and Kaladin and his mother lived on their mountain peak most have likely forgotten there was once a time they weren’t there.
The last time his father left the dreams changed. He felt there was a need to see the world beyond the aerie. He traveled to the nearby monastery and sought advice on how to enter the greater world. While there, he became enamored on the life of these lonely philosophers and decided it was a path he wanted to follow. A year later, as a monk, he flew off to see the world. Most people he meet merely think of him as a Dragonborn with an odd case of atavism causing a resurgence of wings and a tail. Only the Dragonborn show any suspicion of his origins.
On occasion, he visits his mother. She is apparently craving grandchildren, despite knowing half-dragons are sterile. As a master alchemist, she swears she knows a way around this pesky inconvenience. According to her, there is a lovely single half copper dragon-elf lady just across the continent that he had to meet. Kaladin isn’t ready to settle down and this has ironically caused him to spend even less time at home. His great grandfather’s coin has been whispering in his dreams about finding his heritage and has been leading him further away.
Recently he was exploring a vast primordial forest. It was full of fascinating alchemical ingredients that he sampled to determine if there was anything interesting to bring back to his mother. Suddenly off in the distance, an explosion rocked the land and a vast wave of air pressure and magic swept through the land, causing turbulence and widespread destruction. Looking back, he witnessed a massive mushroom cloud expanding upward... being swept up and swallowed by an unimaginable hole in reality. He was just feeling a suction towards the opening in the sky when a faint glimmering image of a hand appeared to pinch the rift shut.
Naturally, this was the most fascinating thing he had ever witnessed and once he had recovered his bearing, he immediately flew towards the explosion’s wake. There he found a groggy snake-man whose race he didn’t immediately recognize and an unconscious pale elf that he was tending. The area appeared to be the remains of an elven tree city. Amazingly, despite the scale of the explosions, the landscape was full of mostly intact corpses, though the actual tree was more tinder than tree. Although they seemed to be odd and the circumstances were ominous the people seemed friendly. After talking with them for a few days and developing a rapport, they decided to travel together. And maybe find an answer to the greatest mystery they had encountered.
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
Monster Hunter Kharn
My name is Kharn. As a young man, I ran with a rough crowd. We called ourselves the Grey Wolves. Compared to our traditional Borovian Gypsy families, we were hyper-independent rowdies and toughs. My story really starts the day we found the skeletal remains of an impossibly large wolf. Each of us took a fang or a claw and fashioned a sigil, an emblem, to be worn on a leather strap around our necks, as a way to reinforce our group identity.
Almost immediately, we began to have shared dream experiences of being a pack of wolves – of hunting and howling and hungering. The more we wore our new Grey Wolf tokens, the more we dreamed, and the more we dreamed, the more we began to act like a wolf pack during our waking hours. It was minor stuff, mostly; dominance games, pack tactics, nocturnal forays, that sort of thing. It seemed like harmless fun, until Madam Eva, a Vestani fortune teller, got wind of our antics and sought us out. We thought she would be angry with us, or would tell us to get rid of our totems, but to our surprise, she was almost ecstatic. Using her own formidable powers, she was even able to join us in our collective dream – although she appeared as herself, and not as a wolf. There she told us that we had found the very bones of the Great Wolf Spirit himself, in one of his ancient earthly incarnations, and she taught us how to commune with him, albeit in a very limited fashion. She saw a great potential for power before us, and she impressed upon us that we were not to take it lightly or selfishly. She also laid a very serious charge on us, to use this opportunity and the advantages it would bring us to aid the Vestani. We made solemn promises.
Over time, our awareness of the Great Wolf Spirit grew, and, I think, his awareness of us grew, also. He became our patron, and we, his worshipers and followers, and we embraced the lupine characteristics that he seemed to be cultivating in us. Like the Barbarians of the Northern Wastes we hear tales of, we became strong and hardy and capable of entering a ferociously savage battle frenzy. Through his influence, the Grey Wolves gained a reputation for being extremely dangerous, especially to any who would cross us. We were territorial, like wolves, but we also protected our territory, and our Vestani family. Perhaps we did this too well, because we eventually attracted the wrong attention. We were attacked by werewolves. Maybe they were drawn to our totem artifacts, maybe they were sent by enemies of the Great Wolf Spirit, maybe someone hired them to take out our gang, maybe some dark entity in the area thought we were potential competition, or maybe it was even a test from the Great Wolf Spirit himself, but the Grey Wolves were slaughtered, and I alone survived. Why I was spared I don’t know, but I am convicted that my purpose now is to hunt down the monsters that killed my pack brothers and wreak vengeance upon them. The Great Wolf Spirit is with me, I know, I can still sense him in my dreams, pacing restlessly, filling me with the will to dominate my enemies with my rage.
You may mistake me, in my rage, for a monster. But I am no monster. I am a lone wolf. I am Monster Hunter Kharn.
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
Ambrus the Forgotten
The first day of my current life, my new friends Loki, Kaladin and a Yuan Ti noble found me at the center of the smoldering ruins of a City tree.
My memories are suspect, but I know for certain that my name is Ambros, I am the last son of House VhadJah. That and I also know that I was being trained for something… I just cannot remember what.
I have many questions and not the least of which is why I have a tattooed key on my left palm as well as a lock at the base of my neck. Regardless, of all my questions I consider myself fortunate for I feel at peace within the fellowship of my new friends.
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
The Triton
One of the Triton race who wandered far from his home. He seems to have a fetish for octopus.
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
The Lost Githzerai
Wandering too far from home and trying to find a way back.
You would guess, that a grandson of the infamous Dawnbringer, a Hero of the Revolution and companion to She that is named GITH, whom saved her entire race from enslavement, would be privy to the many secrets passed down the generations through the House of the Rising Sun. You would think so, but you would be wrong in my case. For I am Zolton, the Forgotten Son of the mighty trading house that controls most of the free trade across the Astral Seas. My six older brothers, all trained through the monastery in the art of self-defense, never understood my aversion to physical trials. Three of them are already in charge of major counting houses in distant cities, with families of their own. Two apprentice with our father, training for the day when they will be married off to cement alliances in other distant realms. The last should join them soon, slated to graduate from the monastery next season.
The only ones to choose a different path are myself, and my twin sister, Zoltara. We choose to learn the art of magic, to honor our wizard mother, who died during our birth, and our famous grandfather. The arcane arts seem to come easily to my sister, but not so easily to me. Where she seems to intuitively understand everything our trainers teach, I must, through force of will, study three times as hard to barely keep up. In all honesty, I had started to listen to my disgruntled trainers, wondering if I had what it takes to become a full-blown wizard. For me, everything started with the day we received the news that my grandfather DAWNBRINGER had finally passed.
Again, you would think that The Dawnbringer, in his dotage, would have spent his remaining years spoiling his grandchildren, regaling them with stories of his adventurous youth. Again, you would be wrong. For something around the time of our birth put a wedge between my sire and grandsire. Growing up, my father had two rules, absolutely no superstitious spiritual hockey-pokey nonsense and no mention of his god-forsaken father (at the threat of being disowned). Indeed, my only memory of him, I must have been five or six, when grandfather came by when father was on a trip. Ever since that visit, I have dreamed, nearly every night, of my grandfather, but as a younger man in his signature coat, fire-balling Illithids, beholders, and many other evil things. That one meeting must have made an impression on my younger mind.
In any case, the news of grandfather’s death came with a note for one of his grandsons to inherit his commission, as Commodore of the Rising Sun (His famous ship, which is what our house is named after). Since none of my brothers would dare to cross our father, I took the missive and traveled alone across the Astral plane to claim my heritage. Upon reaching his astral ship, his crew gave me a package with my name on it, In it, a coat fashioned in the style of grandfathers, and in its pocket, a pocket-watch with a spinning compass. Upon grasping the compass, which was fortunately discovered in private, I had an epiphany in the form of a vision. First, I saw my grandfather, as a young man around my own age, receive this same compass from a powerful being, glowing almost too bright to see. I realized this being gifted my grandfather with a powerful arcane focus, and in that instance, I instinctively knew that my difficulties casting magic were over. I inherited my grandfather's magic, now I just need to learn how to use it properly. Unfortunately, my family may never know of my good fortune. For as we set forth for home, the Rising Sun ran aground in a cloud (don’t ask). As I led a crew to find a lever big enough to free us, I somehow got separated in the fog, and ended up….. HERE?
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
Loki the Racoon
He started his life as an innocent woodland creature, living his life beside a mountain stream and the surrounding area with his immediate family. That was the normal world although being an animal, he didn’t really know or care about the greater world. And then the forces of Neith the Druid captured him and transport him back to their compound in Barovia. They are a militant group, intent on restoring balance to the natural world by empowering animals and plants to fight back. Evidently, the intelligent and dexterous raccoons, not native to Barovia, made for good candidates. However, the process of granting full sentience was very experimental and to his knowledge, he was the only one to survive the process. Whether any of his family was also captured and killed in the process, he is unsure.
So, he lived as a slave/servant/lab rat while further experiments and tests were performed. These Druids were preparing some sort of event or opportunity and sacrifices had to be made. The problem, evidently, was that the uplifted animals were expected to be obedient to their masters. For whatever reason, inner strength, starting intelligence, random chance, he was not. He was trouble which is how he was assigned the name Loki. Eventually, they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore and that the next logical step was to crack open his skull and learn what they could. Loki got wind of this and, preferring his skull uncracked, grabbed a bag of magic bones and got out of there.
The details of his escape are a bit fuzzy in his tortured mind but somehow, he found himself back in the normal world. There he tried to make sense of it all and survive. He ran with some bandit types for a while and learned how to use flintlock pistols. But the bandit life didn’t seem right. He found he had a natural affinity for being a ranger and got work doing that. But he didn’t stay in one area very long. He is an oddity, to say the least. Recently he found Kaladin, Ambros, and Arlo in the ruins of an elven tree city and has been traveling with them. He’s not sure where he’s going from here but it’s sure not back to Barovia. That place is bad news.
As for what beloved item he would wake up from a nightmare holding. That would be a smooth green stone from a mountain stream. It is the only memento from his previous life as an innocent woodland creature. Or at least he thinks it is. It’s all a bit cloudy. He has etched into it, the names of his mother, brothers, and sisters whom he will likely never see again. When he lets his guard down and allows himself to be melancholy about his former life, he pulls it out and remembers a time when things were simpler. But if asked, he would deny everything.
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
Arlo the Yuan-Ti
One of the master race. Perhaps the last survivor of a noble clan. A master of the magic of names, a forbidden magic. As his clan was destroyed he escaped through a tear in reality only to find someone in a new land with a past as tragic as his own.
Where I come from my society is very Caste Oriented society... Fortunately, I grew up as a member of the privileged group. I belonged to the Ruling clan of Yaun-ti called Sitharus Diaspora. I am Arlo. I was heavily involved in my Clan/guild/school of magic, and was in fact, being groomed to be a leader.
The Sitharus were/are the leading experts in the "ANCIENT FIELD" of Onomancy, until it was destroyed by an ANCIENT POWER. What is Onomancy you ask? It is an Ancient Field of magic concentrating on the power of names. Onomancy is so old that it predates most modern magic theory. Many that study magic today believe Onomancy to be fairy tales, fantasy, or just plain hoccum.... But all of that is exactly what the old Gods, Demons, Devils, and Celestials want the mortals to believe. They promote this belief so that no one understands the immense power they wield...
The ANCIENTs know how important Onamacy is, and embarked on the Trumpian campaign of lies, deceit, and finally outright destruction of Onomancers. The attack on our house came in the dead of night. On a day that there was a full eclipse of the moon. A terrible portent I have been told. The attack was swift a brutal as otherworldly beings ported in from other realms and descended on the house of Sitharus. Members of the house were fleeing in all directions and I saw several get out of the mansion, but for me, my father, mother, and grandfather it was too late. We could not get out in time. As my parent fought, my grandfather wrapped me in his coat and gave me this book of Nursery Rhymes. He told me that my future lies within the pages of this book and to guard it well. With that, my grandfather told me to run to the light and don't look back. As I did there was a horrific explosion. I woke to the smell of a forest fire. When I looked around me I found that I was in a completely different place in what looked like a village or city of built trees and that city was on fire.
I searched for my family in the destruction, but it was all foreign to me. This wasn't my home. I knew members of the house of Sitharus had escaped but they were not here... We had been flung to the four winds. The only remnants of the house of Sitharus is Me, this book of Nursery Rhymes, and my Grandfather's Coat. I will find how this happened and what is responsible for the destruction of my family.
As I searched this burned-out city, I came upon an Elf named Ambrus and a Ranger who calls himself Loki. Both had been caught up in the wreckage and seemed to have the same desire of finding out what caused such destruction. Soon after a Dragonborn with wings joined us. Ambrus, Loki, Kaladin and I have begun our search... Where is leads only the ANCIENTS know.
RETIRED
Tabletop figurine created by Heroforge.
My Birtthplace was the Cormyrian town of Eveningstar. I joined the Purple Dragons while I was still just a teenager. My desire to bring justice, defend my country brought me in conflict with many enemies. I fought against the vicious orc bands of the Stonelands, dispatched Zhentarim agents along the western frontier, and made a valiant stand in Thunder Gap against Sembian raiders.
I was called upon the king of Cormyr and the "Morning Lord" himself to serve on their misssions.
The first mission was to lead a company of adventurers into the Western Heartlands in an effort to bring justice, goodness and spread Cormyr's influence. We spent nearly two years in the Western Heartlands spreading the Morning Lord's influence and grace amongst the villages and hamlets.
I was recalled by my King and was sent on another mission. I was tasked to be the 2nd in command under the Lady Rowan. And we were to lead a group of adventurers on a mission against the Red Wizards of Thay. The Wizards of Thay owed their powers to being cruel slavers, demonologists, and arcane experimenters and were wholly dedicated to creating a nation of undeath. Our group numbered 10 strong and we were tasked to disrupt and destroy this unearthly evil. We fought these wizards at every turn and many of us died at the hands of Lord Queylar Karrault. But it was Rowan, myself, Velendras, Rhuk, and Irv that survived the horrific battles with the undead. It was there in this final battle that our second mission that Rowan discovered a portal to another world... a world we have come to call Barovia. Convinced that this world had some sort of link to the Red Wizards of Thay, Rowan and I have led the last of our group through the portal on this last TRUE mission of the Morning Lord.
It has truly been a mission full of despair and seemingly no way to leave... for even in "death" we seem to be trapped in this place. It has now been more than a year and our group has been torn apart. Valendras is dead, Rhuk has disappeared. "Irv the terrible" has succumbed to the evil presence of the land... and now Rowan has gone missing. I alone seem to be the last of our group.
I have spent almost a year at the temple here in Vallaki atoning for my mistakes and ridding myself of a malignant presence. It's time to set this world back on the TRUE path of the MORNING LORD.