Homebrew D&D in the Land of Ragir
Category: Avery Atherton
Heroic Tier
Prerequisite: Human, any arcane class
Benefit: If all your arcane encounter attack powers are expended, you gain a +2 bonus to damage rolls with your arcane at-will attack powers until the end of the encounter or until you regain the use of one of your arcane encounter attack powers.
Lord Avery Thomas Atherton is a diplomatic liaison between the sovereign city-state Bolgar and the kingdom of Graventus. He is one of many sympathetic ‘inducers’ sent to ensure that Bolgar is kept in supply of troop deployments from it’s many allies. Atherton is a noble in name and reputation alone, as he was born third in the family; Bolgarin culture leaves family assets to the first born child, leaving future offspring to secure their own capitol.
He is known to have a silver tongue and trained for many years in the performance arts, becoming a popular public speaker in the higher, ‘cultured’ levels until he was conscripted in the lead up to the inevitable Orc incursion (already beginning in the north-west of Arag). He was elevated to diplomat in more recent times as a means to keep him away from the front lines as he ages out of grace.
You recite a short rhyme and feel your tongue loosen so the lies can flow freely.
Component Cost: 10 gp, plus a focus worth at least 5gp
Market Price: 50 gp
Key Skill: Arcana (no check)
Level: 1
Category: Deception
Time: One encounter.
Duration: 10 minutes
Prerequisite: Bard
For the ritual’s duration, whenever you make a Bluff check, you can roll twice and use either result. The ritual’s effect automatically ends when you roll initiative.
Focus: A musical instrument or implement you play as part of performing the ritual.
The Sword of Aecris was once the primary weapon of Sir Keegan, a Human paladin who fought alongside the great Dragonborn Wizard Graventus. This sword was likely enchanted by Graventus himself, and even though it is extremely old it does not seem to have blunted or aged, indeed, it does not seem to blunt or chip at all.
The sword was given to Avery Atherton, and by extension his adventuring party, on the 12th of Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine to assist with their mission to take down the dark wizard Zoltar.
“Straining both your patience and your keen ears, you hear nothing in the duke’s private chamber. That’s why you’re so surprised to see the duke when you boldly enter.”
Component Cost: 30 gp
Market Price: 75 gp
Key Skill: Arcana (no check)Level: 1
Category: Warding
Time: 10 minutes
Duration: 24 hours
You ward a single room (or a burst 4 area), against eavesdropping. Creatures attempting to listen to something in the warded area from outside the area take a –10 penalty to their Perception checks.
14th of Kord in the 36th year of Sehanine
Thrice dayes of travel ahead, and I am enjoying ev’ry moment I can contrive to remind mine party how smart t’was to purchase a mule. I have yea taken to letting the Dragonborn’s pet swine ride t’one of the saddlebags. Nev’r have I seen a Dragonborn so attentive and healdsurn of something it didn’t have to sit t’is own bottom upon for a harvest. Ev’ry time I see to t’mule, I can feel Drass’ suspicious yellow gaze on mine back.
I’m sure, ev’ry now and then, I can hear him grumble und’r his breath something about ‘human’ bacon.
15th of Kord in the 36th year of Sehanine
Thou wouldst have thought the wizard had cast upon himself a spell of changing appearance; the colour of his face, when I rekindl’d the image of his falling forks from oot the window of that gaol in Seawell – bright and burn’d red! Ho! The initial embarrassment seems to have fad’d in heat, though, by the end of this night of stories and mutter he was laughing as raucously as the Dragonborn at the state of his own escape. T’was a day of travel, haply, that tired the stick from his arse.
We will cometh upon Duvik’s Pass tomorrow, if I am following this map correctly. I am struck curious as to what to expect, none of us had the forethought to inquire about it before setting off.
16th of Kord in the 36th year of Sehanine
Duvik’s Pass is truly a ghost town. We pass’d through elements of what was obviously once a thriving mining town but anon t’is just dust, rocks and burn’d wood. We wand’r’d for half of an hourglass, haply, ‘fore pausing for a moment. We wast all silent, yea our animals held with us the profound sense of unnatural loss. Mayhap mine vet’ran ears art moor tun’d to it, but t’was only I heard the noises of war as we stood among the dead town.
Or perhaps t’was the dull shock of seeing what is left when thith’r art nay moor living to warm the hearth’s and tar the walls that had mine companions so distract’d. It stirr’d memories for me, of the campaign in the north, but sorrow dost not dull the mind in quite the same mann’r.
Regardless of it, my ears told sooth; we encounter’d a single Elven warrior corner’d by a pack of Kobolds. Thith’r was no need for delib’ration on what course of action we shouldst take, with Minty boldly rushing to engage whom I have nay doubt he thought to be the strongest of the pack. I call’d for a charge and ev’ryone follow’d suit; the Kobolds stood not a chance.
Fortunes art an odd thing, it transpires that the Elf we sav’d was on a mission dictat’d by our v’ry target, Claudius. He explain’d how he had been sent to clear the undead from the mines, but had been ambush’d by a pack of Kobolds who wast sharing the mine too. T’was p’rplexing, initially, to hear that Kobolds would live so closely to the undead. Carrions and their ilk are not known to be picky with whom they attack, but I anon und’rstand they wast attempting to stayeth close to a Blue Dragon.
O wonderful creature it wast! Prime and powerful! Mine companions set it upon us, but only after we clear’d the mine. I did nae wish to fight it, and proven right to dismay I was. Thine creature almost took our lives, t’was only thanks to discretion in t’ face of defeat that t’others wouldst bow back and flee. Personally, I am glad. To see a creature so wondrous as that dragon dead would be an affront to all that is unique and beautiful in this world. We travel soon, ye elf is set to lead way to a tower. Zoltar’s own, no less. I hope, truly, that we are prepared f’r what lie ahead.
6th of Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine
Captain Kennard is a good man. So often in my line of work men like him are trampled by the politically ambitious or morally bent it is refreshing to see a man of his fibre in his role. That said, the happenstance of the prison escape and the way he has handled the resulting panic has not been as admirable as his nature. We agreed to help him round up the prisoners if we see them. Or should I say I agreed and the tinkle of coin convinced the others in my group?
No matter, after another night at the Leaky Bucket (a place I could not convince any blue blood from Bolgar to stay, I am sure) we shall head towards our only lead on Zoltar, a place called the ‘Mage’s Hold’. Kennard directed us there himself, short of any real leads, and I would take a false trail after the wizard over one that leads back to the Imperial City any day. It’s barely been a halfmonth and yet it feels like an age since I sat behind my desk, sleeping off the cities best mead and hoping the ambassador would not bother me about the delay in his shipment of dwarven stone.
I must admit my knowledge of the hold itself is limited at best, only that it was the point where the great Graventus held back the growing army of undead. I would do a little reading before we set off but our exertions on the prison island have left me in deep need of rest. It would be a week of feathered sheets at least until I am able to sleep through the night, let alone on a travelling cot.
7th of Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine
Linkon came to me last night, hoping to be discreet, but merely managing to keep me from shutting my eyes a little longer. It seems some local elven contacts of his have requested his help with one of the prisoners, and he is unable to escort us as our ranger any more. I expressed my sense of loss, truly I liked him – even if he was quiet – and bid him head off as soon as he could. Hopefully his assistance in rounding up the remaining prisoners may help Captain Kennard as much as ours.
We shall head off today, after I have re-packed my things. I’m getting quicker at it; I feel as if I were in the Bolgarin army once more, “Travel light and fast, cadet.” Old friends have been swirling around in my head, of late, keeping my daydreams interesting.
10th of Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine
The scarred lands truly are an odd sight to behold. I have walked them once before, when I first came to the Imperial City, but the odd nature of magic does not dull one’s sense of wonder. Graventus really must have been quite the powerful sorcerer. Curiously, we passed the body of a dead deer on the journey here, lying by the side of the road. Why do I feel as if it could be a message from one of the gods?
We’re camped outside of the Mage’s Hold as I write, it’s quite a shabby looking building but the Halfling and the Dragonborn had a look around the ‘entrance’ and they tell me they can see signs that it has been disturbed. All I see is rubble, and without the ranger our tracking skills are dubious. Drass, perhaps, has experience in tracking prey but when little Minty talks of such things I get an uncertain sense from him. I do hope I have not made a mistake, in allowing him to work as my ‘guard’, I would feel intolerably responsible if something where to happen to him.
12th of Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine
I have never seen so many undead in my life as I did yesterday. Guardians of this crypt, they were, triggered by our entrance into a large room they piled out of the walls and surrounded us before we had a chance to think our way out or even retreat. I felled two, perhaps three, almost instantly but for every one we destroyed two would crawl out from the walls. We did what we could to fight them off, but no matter how hard we fought they could find strength in numbers we would never match.
I knew it would end us, as I could feel the strength of two of the zombies, pulling me back against one of the sarcophagi as I fought another which was slashing wildly at me with an old, broken sword. The Dragonborn was sweeping through them as if they were nothing, and the crack of flames and explosions told me that Indigo must have been casting every spell he knew to slow the hoard, to no avail. It was Minty, who managed to sneak his way through – taking out legs as he went – to an altar we had not managed to reach. He cried out to the Platinum Dragon and, in an instant, the zombies fell to the floor – harmless. I shall not worry for his fortune so much, I think.
We had to rest, there, amongst the bodies of the dead, as our wounds were far greater than we were anticipating. It steeled our minds to the idea that Zoltar may be further inside – the trap itself was magic in nature and Indigo suspects it would not have triggered had someone not reestablished the magic. This hold is far too ancient for the spell to have remained without some level of upkeep. So we barricaded the door inwards, as if that might prevent a wizard, and waited.
I could move again, after several hours, but my body did not want to. If we walked through those doors into another fight I am not sure I would have been as useful a companion as I would have needed to be. Thankfully, but equally disappointing, there was no powerful wizard on the other side of that door. No, it was an undead Knight called Sir Keegan. The Sir Keegan, paladin and companion to Graventus himself, one of the prisoners who had escaped from the raft.
I did not know what to expect, there was all possibility that a fight could still break out between us, but I had a feeling that the spectre would have done so immediately. Instead, he wished to talk, and asked us of our intentions. When we explained, of our chase for Zoltar, he in turn explained that he had come to prepare himself against what he called the return of the Underdark.
I think back on it now, and I cannot believe that I did, but I had the gall to ask the ancient hero for help. Lo, he gave me his very own sword. The Sword of Aecris! Even holding it in my hands, I could feel the power that resided within it’s metal. I feel stronger having it at my side, as if it were reversing the passage of time I walked away from the hold sure I could push my limits far past what I once believed them to be. We cleared the place, after our encounter with Sir Keegan, and found a magical shield embedded in an ooze as well. The Dragonborn took it as a prize, and nobody looked like they wanted to argue with him about it.
This journey has simply been incredible. I cannot imagine it continuing, and yet it does, as we are now travelling back to Captain Kennard to tell him of Sir Keegan’s location.
4th Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine.
On this morn, the halfling bravely declared a giant hulk of a Dragonborn to be the most capable, trustable warrior he could find. He introduced himself as Drass, and as large and unruly a beast he may be I picked up an air of inexperience in his manner. Even so, there was some buzz about an ‘unusual performance’ in one of the taverns I’m fairly sure Minty visited. If this is how the halfling thinks we should go about ‘persuading’ people, perhaps I should cut him from the embassy payroll before long.
Anyway, I write now from the confines of the Raft. Yes, the very same prison that suffered an escape. Truly, it has been a hard day today and my old bones are not so appreciative of this hard floor and chill.
5th Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine.
Just a quick note before we disbarricade ourselves and truly ensure this place has been cleared, the Dragonborn is a loud sleeper. I shall endeavour to arrange myself farther from him, should I have to spend any more nights in his company. And perhaps arrange a few walls in between us, yes.
Not dead, not quite yet. I came rather close, though; fighting the hag! That’s who we ran into, almost as soon as we started. The halfling is a good little sneaker, we saw right through her ridiculous ‘attractive woman’ disguise, the Hag of Myreholme put last night’s snoring indiscretion in perspective, however, with the most foul screaming I have ever heard. Hag magic, it seems, for it put Indigo into a terrible state – he even collapsed, it was the kind of scream that ate at your very mind.
Another useless guard saved, we left the ridiculous prison.
1st Hextor in the 36th year of Sehanine
So frequent art mine disappointments, of late, that I can barely put quill to pap’r without two’r three paragraphs finding themselves versed ‘fore me. Truly, I miss the nice smelling girls of the Golden Rose these days, whence I could drop a coin ‘fore them and they wouldst sit thith’r, looking germendelic as I chose not to sample their usual courses but instead complain, with not end, about Bolgarin gov’rnance.
I received a dispatch this morning along with two crates of spices, a wine cask and more trading agreements then I have ever seen under the Graventus office. One other item arrived, too, a letter bound for the Eldarin palace, taken by an Eldarin himself. They expect me to accompany the lot personally, and truly I cannot think of duller ways to waste my time, made worse by the indecent sum they have allocated me to spread between a travelling party. Three hundred and fifty gold pieces, eighty for myself, eighty for the Eldarin (for ‘supplies’), one hundred and sixty for protection and thirty for a cart and driver! Continue reading “Atherton’s Journal – The Road to Whitecliff”
The Solution Hole 