DRAGON'S INC: CAMPAIGN

Many people wish for adventure in their lives. Sometimes, they get more than they bargained for...

...The temple of Arcane Might in Saerloon was still looking at night. The stars and moon made the white marble walls and towers seem to glow with an unearthly light, but those learned folk who knew of the temple knew that the stars and the moon had very little to do with the pale glow of the temple. This was a temple of Azuth, lord of Wizardry, and such beautifying spells were not uncommon in this temple. A silver bell, made strong by sorcery, rang out, signalling the beginning of the Midnight Service. Soon afterward a white-haired figure streaked across the courtyard, and a careful observer could hear him say, "Azuth!" Yes, Shandassar was late again.

Shandassar stopped just short of the largest tower to wipe some ink from his face with his grey robe. He had been penning the latest commentary on 'Elven Magic and its Affect on the Weave' when he had fallen asleep a few hours ago. He was not a large man, barely 5'9" by most people's word, and he was slight of build. His white hair on one so young was the result of a magic experiment gone wrong, but he liked it anyway. His simple grey robes were adorned with the symbol of Azuth, a hand pointing upward with the index finger alit with blue flames. He yet carried with him his satchel of assorted scholarly equipment, including ink wells, sheafs of paper, quills, and maps. He didn't want to leave them for brother Markwell to pick up in the library.

Shandassar wondered if he should even go into the Hall of Sorcerers as late as he was, but in the end he fortified himself and entered in. Just outside the Hall was a foyer where stood sister Elansa. He was about to be lectured again. Not that he minded the attention from the shapely priestess, that is, he just always seemed to be getting lectured. Just as she was getting started, her perfectly shaped mouth stood agape in surprise. Suddenly, Shandassar began to feel tingly all over, as if his entire body were going to sleep. Then suddenly everything faded from sight. The beautiful sister Elansa was left alone in the foyer before the Hall of Sorcerers...

...It was a dark night in Ravensbluff. The moon and stars seemed to be hidden by some dark power. Many astrologers took this to be a bad omen, but Sir Richard Earwinn thought very differently. Sir Richard's theory claimed that the criminals of Ravensbluff would need to heed bad omens tonight, not he. Tonight Sir Richard Earwinn was on patrol, and the criminal element cringed at that fact. Or at least HE thought so.

Onward he rode upon his gallant steed, Spaz, up and down the many dark streets of Ravensbluff. All seemed to be at rest, but Sir Richard knew better. He was a paladin of Ilmater, and as such he could taste the evil in the air. There was nowhere to hide from this iron clad juggernaut. Or at least HE thought so.

Just then, a woman cried out in terror. She streaked across the street and into an alley with a male pursuer in chase. "Finally, cry for help! A damsel in distress! Gallant Spaz, this shall be our finest hour!" Or at least HE thought so.

Sir Richard of house Earwinn immediately gave chase to the couple into the alley way. Spaz stopped as soon as they entered the alley way because he had a fear of pointy objects. There stood the woman, the man, and five other people armed with crossbows and daggers. The crossbow toting 'victim' said calmly to him, "Get naked." At that moment Sir Richard of Earwinn began to feel butterflies in his cavalier stomach. Amazingly, the butterflies seemed to move to every part of his body. The clever bandits watched as Sir Richard faded from sight. He just seemed to disappear. Looking unbelievingly at the now empty spot, the "victim" sighed, "I need something to drink."...

...The half-elf stops for a moment, tiredness seeping deep into his bones. Gods, but it had been a long run to escape the assassins this time. Out of habit, he strokes his eyepatch, the other emerald eye scanning the area. He wonders to himself if his uncle will ever stop trying to exterminate the last trace of his sister's love for a human. His lean frame is recovering quickly from this run, the advantages of Wilderness Runner training from Orcanon. If it hadn't been for Orcanon...Ryloth closes his eyes against the images that immediately flood his mind...his father crucified, his mother screaming as he looks on the scene with a 10-year old's horror. Orcanon had offered him acceptance despite his blood, given him a chance to show his worth, and eventually gave him a gift that he had never had. The love of a father. Ryloth had left that sanctuary against his will, Orcanon raging at him to save himself as the drow decimated all that lived around him.

His reverie is broken suddenly, a slight sound carrying to his ears. There are others in the woods, his body tensing. Some stealthly quiet, others obviously NOT used to the woods. His head jerks toward the sound, an eerie glow lighting the forest in that direction. It profiles his face, the long black hair looking like an oil slick against his sharp features, the light showing scarring everywhere, long ago whipmarks combining with deliberate stripes coloring his torso. He begins to approach, though in his mind he wonders why, when he has spent so much time avoiding contact...

...Tegra D'Are, of the now extinct elven tribe of Azral, picks her way through the woods, searching for a good place to stop for the night. Looking about her, her thoughts are still with Dove and Aegis, wishing desperately that they were with her, to guide her in this. Shaking her head quickly, she stops that line of thought and looks more closely around her. Her dark red hair lays across her shoulders, traveling down to the small of her back, stark against the white of her clothing. Strange, the trees look different, as though she's walked into a completely different forest than she was just moments ago. Wary now, her silver eyes narrow as she spots a glow up ahead, enough to reflect on the scimitars at her side, gifts of Chauntea through Tymora. She mentally shakes herself again, the image of her father standing over her mother as they're both killed flooding her mind. Can't think of that now. She starts toward the glow, feeling compelled for some reason to follow it, wondering if the gods are at work again...

The urge becomes stronger within the woods. After walking for what seems only a short while, the lighted area presents itself, dwarfed by a huge round table. There are others here, all looking as confused as you feel. A male human in grey robes, some type of symbol upon the front robes. A half-elf looking cautiously around, stripes running across his arms and chest as if he's part of the woods itself. A knight in full armor comes crashing onto the scene, his war horse barely avoiding the giant table. A female elf in white, looking warily about, her scimitars seeming to glow brighter than the light. Strange, their names suddenly come into your mind as you all take a seat. You know you've never seen each other before, but a knowledge seeps into your brain from some source you cannot see. The half-elf is Ryloth, the human goes by Shandassar. Sir Richard is the knight, his armor clanking slightly as he sits. Tegra is the female elf, her eyes widening as apparently she recieves the same knowledge. A flask is sitting in front of each person on the table. Funny, you don't remember there being ANYTHING on the knarled old oak when you got here. Filled with your favorite beverage, no less.

At the head of the table, you see an elf. Your body jerks slightly, as he wasn't there before either. He looks like a gray elf, but some type of sickness has obviously dealt him a death blow, for you can see the deathly pallor of his skin. He nonchalantly glances over the lot of you and begins to speak. "Well met. I possibly have a job for all of you. There will be magic, dragons, and if you are elf like me, your most hated enemy. Do not be fooled, for this WILL be a quest. Some of you, which I can guarantee, will not come back to this table. And there will be new ones along the way. You have been called, your gods themselves have called you to this moment. A great war rages as we speak within the heavens. A crack has happened, the evil gods banding together to upset the balance that we call life. They are winning. You here have been chosen to begin the fight for good, to bring balance back against Ice and Tiamat. The tools you will need are known by the gods, and it will be up to your perserverence to find what they might be. If you fail, the end of this world as you know it will be your legacy. Go forth now, from whence you came, and decide amongst you who will join, and who will crawl back into the night."

The lighting around the table (Where IS that coming from?) flickers for a moment, and begins to fade, until only blackness fills your sight. For those of you with infravision, it takes a few strange moments for it to become effective. Once everyone can see, two torches flare into full light at the head of the table (for you insufferable humans), and a low chuckle is heard by all as they fight with their night vision gone haywire once again. The laughter echos away into the darkness of the forest, and you feel the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise in response to the sight that meets your eyes. The head chair is empty, and light dances off the petals of a single, long-stemmed black rose, standing in the elf's flask. Everyone looks at each other, as you all rise from the table...and the strange quest of what will become Dragon's Inc. begins.