- This topic has 5 replies, 4 voices, and was last updated 1 week, 2 days ago by .
-
Posts
-
Between King’s Crossing and Toval on the western coast of Andior is the small township of Kallinford.
The Viscount of Kallingford’s son, the Honorable Haladar, has died. Nothing nefarious; he’d been sickly since childhood so reaching his 26th birthday was more than the Viscount ever hoped. The funeral has been declared a celebration of life to be held during the High Holy Feast of Alaria, Goddess of agriculture.This is a small town — a few taverns, an inn, and a few dozen merchants; a way-point between two larger towns. 90% human and no monster races to be seen.
You are there. Why is up to you, though none of you knew or know either the Viscount or his son. You can know each other if you wish.
No restrictions on class or race.
And so it begins.
Get the location of our starting point here
https://fellowsofmythgar.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/andiorstart2026.pngWeek One
The Duke’s of Kallingford’s son, the Marquess Haladar, has died. Nothing nefarious; he’d been sickly since childhood so reaching his 26th birthday was more than the Duke ever hoped. The funeral has been declared a celebration of life to be held during the High Holy Feast of Alaria, Goddess of agriculture.
The wake is a very public affair. The Duke’s son is resplendent in this royal best during an open-coffin service. During the funeral, the High Priest of Pelor speaks of the kindness and goodness of the marquess. As he speaks, Haladar suddenly sits up from his coffin and screams as if assailed by some horror. Then he cries out “WHY CAN I NOT REST! WHY ARE THE GATES CLOSED TO ME! Vantress! Vantvress!”
The clerics rush to the coffin but the Marquess is again prostate, though a tortured look on his face. Despite spells and prayers, Haladar remains dead.The Knight in the tavern
“Please, I beg of you. I am dying. I need help. The gates to the land of the dead have been conquered and closed, leaving the land of judgment and rest unattainable. A cancer has gotten its foul tendrils into the planes, shutting off the EndWorld. No one who dies may find their final resting place but are instead being conscripted into an army to take over the known planes. Unless the gates are again opened, the dead will spill into this and the other planes. I will die soon. As I and my comrades were seeking to put the construct back together, I was stung by a blade with wyvern venom on it some nights ago in Sliboron, and I am weakening by the hour. I am old, and such is the way of those who once were mighty; we become prey to those of younger fortitude.
“I wish to rest when I fall, not be a minion in an undead army. I need someone to free the gates for men as myself, for weal or woe, all men deserve to face our fates. I have no money on this plane to pay, but I have this band of poor repair, which I will trade you for the favor of promising to reopen the gates. Should you get the band to work again, it will transport you to a loft in Omphalos, which has significant value. I give it and all within to you as well. The loft is in a most advantageous part of town.
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.