Erallian Campaign; Session 4

All agreed that the morning had come too soon, and the early preparation only further soured their moods. Dressed and fed, they proceeded into the breaking dawn. All immediately drew their weapons as the sight of a ferocious wolf filled their vision. Arlina began spewing incantations before a leather clad female figure rushed into the fray, shouted at the party to cease their aggression, and whispered softly to the growling beast. It quieted down before licking its master’s face.

“What in the name of all…” Arlina began to speak, but the ranger cut her short.

“I am Lilly, of Perod Heights. I arrived yesterday and, upon speaking to the mayor, have been informed of your task. Surely you could use the talents of a skilled master of the wilds, yes?” Azreck couldn’t hold back a smile and Lunara nodded immediately. Arlina, clearly, was not thrilled, but understood the advantages involved. It was Zyrallus, though, who spoke.

“Of course. I assume that this is your companion?” He gestured toward the panting wolf and received a gentle nod. “Very well… your name?”

“Lilly.”

Azreck spoke up then, “An Orthrasix, eh? I did not know your kind still left Perod.” Lilly looked up at the towering paladin and the briefest glint of hatred sparkled behind her eyes. She quickly hid the glare before responding.

“We leave when we desire to, Gallahulk. I was unaware your kind knew anything but torment. Worshipping that despicable Tiamat as your queen… you disgust me.”

Azreck only laughed. “Learn your facts before you accuse, child. I worship her simply for the power it bestows. It was not my choice to be created in this vile form, but I have lived a tiresome life attempting to atone for that mistake. Have you ever seen a Gallahulk who willingly strays from Tiamat’s teachings? They lose their knowledge of the divine… I will not risk that.” Lilly looked at first to continue the argument, but brushed the topic away.

“Let us move out. The forest is filled with vile creatures, and I hear that we must first find a portal to enter the Venathan Tower. This mayor seems odd, but at the very least somewhat trustworthy.” At that, they gathered together and headed into the nearby forest.

The ground was damp from a shower which must have occurred sometime during the night. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze, and all was peaceful in a way that none of the party was used to. Breaking the silence was a lone voice, muffled by the walls of a slowly approaching house. Through the window, Zyrallus noticed two shadowy silhouettes. It was daylight now, but there were no candles lit within the abode. The rogue crept up to the window and waited for the sounds to move away. Just at the moment he detected their distraction, Zyrallus peered inside and took count of the interior. He crept back as silently as he had arrived. “Five of them. Two ranged. And there is indeed a small altar of some kind inside. But how could they know of our arrival, or even use the portal… unless…”

Lunara understood immediately, “Unless their leader is a Fallen. It is the only way. Very well, we know of their numbers. How do we use that to our advantage?” The party discussed quietly and decided that Zyrallus would spy until the enemies were distracted and then alert the party to break through the front door. The rogue checked for locks, found none, and moved to his position. All was quiet… and then he gave the word.

Clearly, the human guards were not expecting an ambush. Before they even had a chance to react, Lilly’s ferocious wolf took one of the crossbowman out and Zyrallus stealthily backstabbed a warrior into oblivion. As the enemies looked to regain composure, though, the party executed perfectly and got in another flurry of attacks. All that remained after the second assault were two lowly warriors, one already bleeding profusely. They charged valiantly and ganged up on Arlina. Amazingly, both of them delivered vital blows and knocked the bard out cold. She lay, writhing and bleeding on the wooden floor. Azreck rushed to her aid as Lunara finished off the weaker enemy. Zyrallus dealt with the other.

“You’re going to be fine, Arlina. Just hold on.” The grizzled Gallahulk prayed for mercy as his patient slipped one step closer to demise. Again, he attempted to save her, and finally she moved back to the conscious world. The enormous paladin sighed in relief as a gentle hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up to see Lilly smiling. He returned it and asked for her help in lifting the bruised bard to her feet.

“Thank you, Azreck. Truly.” He nodded as Lunara made her way to the altar. With a kind of melancholy dance she activated the ancient device, grinning widely as the brilliant light shone forth from the portal. It seemed to yawn, as if awakened from the deepest slumber. Lunara turned.

“Are you fit to leave, Arlina?” The bard nodded, and before any of them could argue in her stead, she jumped onto the shining tiles and vanished. Shrugging, the rest of them followed. The journey was afoot, indeed.

Erallian Campaign; Session 3

‘This place never ceases to amaze me.’ Zyrallus looked down the streets of the decrepit town of Martanya and saw, as he expected, absolutely nothing of merit. The citizens were clearly holing up in their hovels and the Royal Dwelling, assuredly garrisoning the only well fed inhabitants of Martanya, stood like a decorative palace in the distance. ‘Like a flower in the dankest swamp.’ His mind began to wonder concerning the town’s economy, about whether or not the tiniest charity from that beacon of wealth would turn the tide of this slowly dying blemish on the Erallian mainland. ‘Leave that for the thinkers, boy… Stick to the sword and treasure. That’s always been your place.’

“Okay, we’re here now. As far as I’m concerned this is as far as we travel together, but let’s hurry to the precious mayor and inform him of our little rendezvous before I make a rather glorious exit.” Arlina bowed in mock respect, nodded toward the veritable palace, and began walking again. Azreck nudged Zyrallus, looked down at the Dothrama, and smiled widely.

“She’s a rather pleasant sort, eh?” Zyrallus smiled back before proceeding. For a moment, and he knew it would only last that single instant, there was peace in his mind and heart. A gentle wind made its way through the crumbling buildings of a disheveled town, and he quite literally felt his heart rise at the feeling of it. It was, as he has predicted, almost instantly eradicated.

“Let me in! You have no busin-,”

“I have all the business I need, cur! You there! Do you know this rebellious swine?” Zyrallus saw that the royal guards were arguing with Arlina, and would have sided with them did he not need entrance. Unfortunately…

“Yes, good sir. She is a travelling companion. We are here on urgent business from Morrowshire to speak with mayor Aubreigh. If you please?” The guard looked the rogue up, then down, and then reluctantly let him pass. Lunara shot Zyrallus an approving glance, and the four walked up the marble steps before entering the meeting chamber.

It was magnificent. Stonework and masonry like none had seen, chandeliers in triplet hanging their crystal charms form the gold embossed rafters… this was the true height of royalty. At least ten plate armored guards stood in perfect unison along the crimson carpet leading to a surprisingly unpleasant man. ‘All of this for a mayor? The damn king might not have treatment like this!’ Lordacious Aubreigh sipped slowly from his wine chalice. He noticed them, but did not acknowledge.

“Good sir. We bring news of an unfortunate occurrence from the surrounding woods.” Azreck’s voice shattered the air like stained glass, and the figurative shards seemed to cut the mayor deeply. Lordacious stared at the giant without fear. He simply nodded. “Kobolds, sir. We defeated their leader after they captured us… somehow.” And then, the mayor’s stoicism wavered.

“You were kidnapped by kobolds you say? And their leader is dead? These cages, were they assembled in a small clearing?” Zyrallus nodded assent. “They are a band, you see. These kobolds once worked for a true bane to our land. A bane I thought long gone. Perhaps you can be of use, after all.”

Arlina looked entirely upset at the notion of some other quest with her three counterparts, but Lunara instantly brightened at the idea.

“Anything, lord Aubreigh. State your wish.” The winged woman bowed before him. Clearly, he enjoyed the attention.

“My daughter, you see… she was taken from me nearly a year past. By kobolds, as you say. I sent a search party to find her, and I was informed that they came upon a clearing with empty cages. They found this.” He brought a worn and blood stained royal crest from under his robes. “It was hers. I fear that she is dead, and no sign of the kobolds was found. I know that ‘he’ employed them.”

“Stop with the vague references! Who are you babbling about?” The bard, clearly, had little respect for royalty, and with it little fear for punishment.

“His name is Azanna Nightfall. I do not speak it unless I must, you insolent fool… But I know these kobolds were in his employ, and I know that he desired my daughter for reasons both political and… well, I dare not think upon it. Please. To the east there is a ruined house, and inside of it an ancient portal. There are many in the area, all leading to the Venerathan Tower. I know that’s where she was taken.”

Zyrallus held up his hand. “If you know all of this, why don’t you send a few of your best men? Clearly these guards are a tougher match than the lot of us, no?”

“Assuredly, young rogue. But you have something which I do not, something that is vital to the use of these portals. Venerathan Tower, in its prime, was a mental institution of sorts, and there was but one race chosen as worthy enough to administrate such a vital citadel.” Lunara nodded, clearly understanding. “Yes, my dear. The Fallen were entrusted with opening these divine portals, and only a Fallen possesses the knowledge to reinstate their utility. Please… I will likely never meet another Fallen, let alone one so seemingly willing to offer aid.”

Lunara’s answer was already known. Azreck nodded, and Zyrallus followed his lead. Arlina shook her head in complete disgust. “You know, Arlina, I’ve never heard of a bard as morally retched as you. Aren’t you supposed to represent charisma?” She stared daggers into the rogue’s eyes.

“You lose everything, and I mean ‘everything’ you hold dear… then we’ll talk about personality.” She held the stare a moment longer before turning to Lordacious. “Rewards, I assume?”

Azreck chuckled. “The bard acts like the rogue should… what a wonderful world.” Aubreigh smiled in spite of the mood.

“Of course, dear. Many, indeed. Simply bring back anything to signify that she was taken there… proof of her life… or death. Now go, please. The trek is long, and arduous at best.” With that, three of them bowed and four of them departed. Outside, Arlina immediately opened a rebuttal. The three other growled their disapproval, but they were greeted by nothing but a raised voice.

“I have no qualms with doing this, but I say we leave tomorrow. No sense passing up an opportunity to get some sleep.”

It was decided, and so it would be.

Erallian Campaign; Session 2

Arlina pushed ahead towards the dipping sun. The other three companions were grouped together, speaking in near silent voices, and falling desperately behind. “Hurry up! We don’t have time to waste!” The cloaked bard continued shouting at them without once turning around, and, to her increasing frustration, they refrained from answering.

“So, Lunara… You say that you were once in the astral sea? I can’t believe it, but to look at you… Well, to look at you there is no doubt.” Zyrallus again took into account the burned wings and attempted to picture the giant woman in angelic fashion. He failed miserably. ‘There’s nothing left in her of that life. Maybe she prefers it that way.’ Azreck was far too busy admiring the sky to take into account anything the two were saying. He did, though, try his best to stay in line with them in order to foster some sort of companionship.

“Help! Help!” The three redirected their gaze towards Arlina and saw that a group of kobolds had her surrounded. They rushed in and began to draw their weapons, but the bard held up her hand. They continued their pace.

“Wux. Yth tir ti tuor ekess svent wux.” To all involved, the fact that the kobold was attempting communication was a great shock, at the very least. Unfortunately, Zyrallus knew little to none of draconic. It seemed that this would be another situation resolved solely through bloodshed. The rogue began to ready his rapier, but a clay fist moved him gently aside. Azreck stared into the eyes of the little monster before speaking, “Gethrisj. Yth jatil thric lowan. Ergriff wux maekrix nishka loreat.” And at that, like a kind of magic, the proud kobold warrior sniffed, sheathed his weapon, and herded his troops away. Everyone stared at the paladin, mouths proverbially dropped.

“I have lived a long life. I have learned much. Let us proceed.” For them, for now, that would have to be enough explanation. The sun was completely gone, and soon the true evils of the forest would present themselves. Kobolds and spiders and wolves were one thing. ‘Ogres and Basilisk are something else entirely,’ Zyrallus thought to himself. ‘Besides. Martanya is just across this valley. Or at least it should be.’

As the long trek continued, Lunara wondered momentarily back to a life she did not quite remember, and wished, against her own pride, that she could recall the glories of it. Serving Bahamut had been the greatest experience of her near thousand year life, but it seemed that even after a half century of fiery punishment for her misdeed, the true glories of her past would be forever forbidden. “Smoke. There, in the distance.” She pointed to a clearing, just barely visible in the moonlight. Two kobold underlings were slobbering over some kind of slaughtered game, and another, much larger kobold sat near a small campfire.

Zyrallus crept closer through the trees, took into account the details he could acquire, and returned to the party. “Definitely the leader of this small tribe. The only problem is that he’s blocking the pass to Martanya. I know that I could sneak by, but I have less faith in the rest of you succeeding. And to travel around at this time of night… No. We must fight.” All agreed that the best plan was, indeed, violence. They took their positions.

Azreck charged from the trees at the crossbow wielding kobold and knocked the little humanoid straight to the ground. The leader shouted some kind of arcane warcry before rushing to the giant paladin and hacking away at his legs. Zyrallus, hidden by the commotion, made his move. He leapt from the shadows and delivered such a powerful blow that the minor kobold warrior was immediately eliminated. Soon after, all that remained was the disgruntled warchief.

“Ragh! Thric kilith! Ergriff lowan!” Azreck, clearly understanding the kobold’s taunt, nodded before striking the beast down. The party sat in the camp and rested. Martanya was just a small walk to the north now. ‘Martanya… the rotting waste of southern Erallia. Heh. Rotting or not, I’ll be glad to get some peace and comfort.’ After a few hours, they gathered their resolve and ventured forth once again.

D&D Homebrew; Erallia Campaign Setting

I know a lot of people who look down upon DM’s building their own worlds in the D&D universe. I get the sentiment: why create something new when there is a plethora of enjoyable content already waiting to be traversed? The answer seems to come down to the fact that I simply love taking bits and pieces from various sources and watching them coalesce into a newborn, and often only slightly recognizable, offspring. From this I lead to my current campaign in the world of Erallia. It takes D&D deities, mashes them up, mixes their original intents… pretty much everything a straightforward Dungeons and Dragons lore-junkie would not only frown upon, but also aim to destroy. Either way, and without further wasted space, I present to you the preliminary history of my D&D world; Erallia.

In the Beginning

Erallia began as all things begin; a swirling mass of nothingness viewed as a golden frontier for the gods. At the start, so the prophets say, there was none but the churning ocean. Tiamat viewed this world and envisioned a mass of fire forged legionnaires marching in anarchy. Bahamut saw a shining hope of a new capital for law and divine order. Vecna imagined an undead realm for he and his craving minions. Lolth understood the importance of creating another chain of under caverns for her thirst driven, blackened minions. And so the battle began… and ended almost as abruptly. For once in the history of mankind the gods agreed to share their vestige of hope and torment.

Tiamat forged a northern continent of fire and doom. In her trickery, though, she also created a portal to the Gods’ realm so she could always traverse between the mortal and immortal to wreak her unspeakable havoc when the time came. Bahamut Made a small and unimposing island to the east for his clan of worshippers and a larger, frozen tundra to the northwest for any brave enough to travel there. Lolth fashioned a dry and arid desert continent in the southeast where cavernous tunnels of infinite length traversed beneath the sand. Finally, Vecna created a set of islands in the southwest where there could be carnage and bloodshed for all to see. And in the center… there would be a massive land of not but earth, forest, and mountains. They knew that one day their peoples would search for greater things.

The Great Collapse

But all was not to be, unfortunately. The people did come, did flock in masses to the newly discovered world. Dwarves and humans and elves and all kinds came and prospered. But when, after a thousand years of living by themselves, the time came to spread out… they met in relative harmony. The central continent was founded and capitalized, and all but a rare few stayed in their original places. The gods had lost their footholds. They would have to fight for that middle land and regain the place of all high god of Erallia.

But how was it to be done? The peoples of the world answered that question for themselves. The first civil war of Erallia broke out twelve hundred years after its divine creation. The northern sect, made up of humans and dwarves, battled against the southern sect, comprised of elves and demon spawn. Some left to found their own destinies, some left to save themselves, but most remained and fought for the better half of a century. When the dust cleared, the north stood victorious. In an act of fury they banished the demons completely from the continent and allowed the elves to remain, with diminished rights. Vecna, Lolth and Tiamat, who had sided with the elves and demons, were surmounted nearly completely by the great lord Bahamut. Without worshippers, what power does a god have?

But bahamut was either too weak or too virtuous to strike his opposition down. He allowed time to work itself through, and, of course, the three downtrodden gods amassed armies to reinvent their image in the hearts and minds of the Erallian races. And so began the true chaos…

World at War

All were split by the gods. Dwarves who followed Bahamut battled fiercely against those who devoted themselves to Tiamat, Human followers of Vecna’s dark Hand struck down their brethren of the Lolthian Darkness, and all was awash with chaos. Again, the world was near to breaking. As it ended, much was lost. Bahamut’s eastern enclave was destroyed, later to be rebuilt by the Sel’Salan who worship him so highly, Lolth was mortally wounded and forced to retreat to the under caverns, Vecna’s elven chosen forgot their master and forsook the gods, and Tiamat decided that now was not, after all, the correct time to plot her conquest. And so the world moved on, waiting for the gods to make their next move.

To this day, though, that has not yet happened. And whispers abound that perhaps the Gods have finally forsaken their erstwhile creation. Perhaps, indeed, Erallia is without hope. Without divinity. Without any semblance of righteousness or law.

Erallian Campaign; Session 1

‘Birds… I hear birds.’ Thoughts ricocheted in his mind and threatened to break their way free. Clearly, something was amiss. Zyrallus Alevar looked around as best as his stiffened neck would permit, saw rusted iron bars, and let out a disheartening sigh. ‘Drunk? What did I do this time?’ But it couldn’t be, simply couldn’t be. He remembered very clearly sleeping the night before and recalled just as accurately that his system was devoid of ale. A voice came, then, gruff and unpleasant.

“You look lost, son. Hahaha… Don’t you know a cage when you see one?” Zyrallus angled his head, grimaced once again at the pain, and noticed with ever growing disdain that he was not the only prisoner in this veritable hell. A heavily armored beast, for lack of any better term, was stuck almost to the point of strangulation between the iron bars of a similar cell.

“By the Raven Queen…” Words, for the first time he could recall, escaped him. The thing was enormous, would tower at least seven feet, Zyrallus wagered, if allowed to fully stretch itself out. But it wasn’t the size, or the darkened skin, or even the bellowing laughter which frightened him… It was the array of spikes protruding like an iron maiden from the thing’s shoulders.

“Don’t lose your words over me, lad. Wouldn’t waste such precious things as words on that.” He tried to move and failed. Tried to break the bars away, and was greeted with a similar result. “Look here, new friend. As far as I can say, you need help as much as I do. Can’t you do something about these damn cages?” Zyrallus pondered the current situation, almost drifted away to the sounds of the forest, and then shot his head upwards.

“Heh… that’s what I do.” He fiddled in his leather pouch, praying that whoever had imprisoned them was not intelligent enough to remove his favorite tools. ‘They didn’t take my case, my weapons or my armor… who’s to say the fools would take a set of lock picks?’ Luckily, and it was fair to say that luck was his strategy, the metal bars and gears were still in the rawhide sack. With a flick of the wrist the cage doors slammed open. The beast-like warrior seemed to smile in the waning daylight. Zyrallus hurried over and opened the other cage.

“Free. I need to stretch, elf. Why don’t you unlock the other two cells?” Zyrallus looked up at him with an expression of such incredulity it would have been funny under other circumstances. “Yes. There are more. Two females by the looks of it. Over there.” He pointed in the direction of the forest clearing and, sure enough, two identical ancient cages were propped up from branches. Zyrallus made his way over, worked his magic, and was surprised, once again, to find the two women staring at him.

“A rogue, I wager? Wonderful.” The voice came from the smaller of the two. She was cloaked and facing away, seeming to stare into the dipping sun between the gnarled trees. “Hurry up, fool. Get Lunara free.” As if by royal command, Zyrallus found himself obeying the orders without so much as a second thought. Lunara, he found… was rather frightening. For one, she challenged the height of the now stretching beast. For another, she sprouted what appeared to be scalded wings.

“Thank you, kind Dothrama. You’re kind… To be truthful, I thought they were long lost. But let us not waste this precious time. We must proceed.” Zyrallus felt as if things were progressing too quickly, but he understood that urgency was necessary under the circumstances. For all they knew, their captors could return to finish whatever malicious deeds they had originally intended.

Not two seconds later, the Dothraman Elf heard breaking twigs in the underbrush. The little cloaked one was chattering away, and he moved to her with such speed that she began to draw at her blade. “Do not speak. To the east, under the oak.” She nodded, looked, and smiled. Zyrallus crept silently towards the lumbering giant and whispered to him as best he could.

“Your name, sir?” Zyrallus questioned. The brown tinted, muscular behemoth looked down before responding.

“Azreck, friend. What is all the-,”

“Shh…” The rogue motioned to the bushes, and all was immediately understood. They gathered together, waiting for the butcher’s bill. Ogres? Orcs? As if by Divine providence, the answer hastily presented itself.

“By the Gods… what a disappointment.”

Kobolds. And a great deal of them. Zyrallus counted in the shade of one of the cages. There appeared to be four warriors and at least eight underlings. They brandished their shoddy weapons, banged the misshapen tools against equally useless shields, and snarled. Suddenly, a bolt of thunderous energy exploded from the winged woman’s hand, and two of the smaller creatures fell to the grass in burning clumps. Everyone charged.

The battle was short lived, at best, but stiffness and exhaustion from the confinement evened the odds. The cloaked woman resonated with inspiring song, uplifted the three others to charge onward. An arrow sprung forth from the forest and cut short the melodious tune. She was at best harmed, at worst fatally wounded, and Zyrallus could think of nothing to remedy the situation.

Thankfully, it was not his problem to solve. Azreck raised a misshapen instrument and whispered for aid before sprinting to the still falling female. He pressed two, hardened hands against her head, bowed his own, and broke the arrow at the middle. The female rose as if unharmed, and the remaining kobolds fled into the forest, clearly beaten.

“You… You’re a paladin!? You?” Azreck attempted to remain stoic, but a small smirk escaped none the less. “And you? Done being so high and mighty now?” Zyrallus turned to the hooded one, but her figure was already disappearing into the distance. She turned back and shouted, “Martanya is close. We best head out.” She wanted to continue forth, to lead the pack, but she comprehended her current place. As they all caught up, she spoke again. “Listen. I don’t want to be here, you all don’t want to be here. So let’s get out of these woods, head back to Martanya, and figure everything out there. I’m Arlina.” Zyrallus and Azreck introduced themselves by name, and she nodded, clearly eager. “Now let’s go.

“The gods know I have kobolds to kill.”