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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
 Posted - 13 May 2012 : 07:16:46
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Aurbrand "Firebrand" Ambrival
A tall, mustachioed man with curly, red hair worn long and unkempt, Aurbrand “Firebrand” Ambrival was a sellwsord, adventurer and later in life a noble of Cormyr.
Aurbrand was the leader of the Company of the Singing Harp, itself comprised of adventurers native to Cormyr, Westgate and various settlements along the Dragonmere. Initially numbering ten members, the Company of the Singing Harp was formed to find the famous (some would say infamous) Harp of Healing.[1]
The Company ranged far and wide in Cormyr and the lands bordering the Forest Kingdom for a decade and a half, finding much adventure, treasure and fame, but never did the Company of the Singing Harp discover the true whereabouts of the Harp of Healing.
Aurbrand stood half a head taller than most men and was always eager for battle. Though he fought often he was no mean killer, preferring to leave a man bruised and unconscious as opposed to dead and dying. He led the charge for every battle the Company of the Singing Harp fought and took much pleasure in swinging his broadsword two handed to cleave and slay orcs, magical beasts and worse.
Aurbrand earned a title of nobility from King Foril after the Company of the Singing Harp fought their way into a haunted keep north of Nesmyth (known to locals as Wizard's Run; so named for the swift flight on foot of the wizard Gardgragath the Unseen from his keep, but not before several animated suits of battle plate chased him down and slew him) and confronted an unknown power that was animating objects within the keep and sending them to slay any who approached too close to its walls.[2]
The keep proved every bit as deadly as the rumors claimed: Aurbrand emerged alone from the keep, bloodied but not beaten, his longtime companions all having fallen.
The loss of his adventuring companions tempered Aurbrand’s battle lust. He settled in Wizard’s Run and refused to have his new grant of holdings and land be renamed, seeing it as a last gesture of respect to his fallen comrades.
Aurbrand is survived by two sons, the eldest Endeir and his younger brother Daervin. The death of his wife in childbirth broke Aurbrand’s heart and he did not remarry. Aurbrand chose to retire to Suzail when his eldest son came of age, thinking it best not to be a constant shadow over his son’s shoulder.
Aurbrand left the bulk of his fortune behind, keeping only a small sum with which he purchased a mansion in a quiet, out of the way part of Cormyr’s capital. Spry even in old age, Aurbrand spent his last years sallying forth in the evening from his home in the Windmarket district, walking the length of the Promenade and ending his trip at the Society of Stallwart adventurers, there to relive old times and tell the stories of his adventures with other retired, surviving members of (once rival) adventuring parties.
None can speak with certainty about when or how Aurbrand died, though word has circulated amongst the Society's elder members that Aurbrand was last seen by his servants: one night after a too-late visit to the Society's halls, Aurbrand was sighted at the just-opened gates to his home, looking upon the translucent form of a woman glowing within a nimbus of blue light. A magnificent golden harp appeared between them that when touched by Aurbrand caused both he and the strange apparition to vanish into the night.
[1] Those wishing to know more about the Harp of Healing need look no further than Dragon #280 and the article titled "The Adventures of Volo: Lost Treasures of Cormyr, Part 3" therein.
[2] Information about Nesmyth can be found in Volo's Guide to Cormyr. What little information (that I know of) about the Ambrival noble family can be found on page 94 of the novel Bury Elminster Deep. If you know of any other sources that discuss the Ambrivals, please shoot me a PM. Thank you in advance.  |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 20 Apr 2015 23:02:35 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 13 May 2012 : 07:20:41
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Endeir Ambrival
Word of the disappearance of Lord Aurbrand Ambrival took its time in reaching the ears of his eldest son and heir, Endeir.
While Crown investigators assisted by War Wizards busied themselves with determing the elder Ambrival's fate, Endeir sat at Wizard’s Run, thoroughly discontented with his father, his drunkard brother and the back country surroundings of his home.
Endeir’s father spared no expense educating his son, sending him to the best tutors and schools (“best” here meaning those places other established nobles sent their children) but rarely during this time was Endeir ever regarded by his peers as a true noble of the Forest Kingdom.
Endeir became fast friends with scions of other new blood noble families, but observed that where his compatriots were encouraged, cajoled, pushed and practically threatened by their mothers and fathers to make a name for themselves, increase their influence and establish a place in Cormyr for their hopefully long-lived noble lines. Endeir’s father seemed entirely unconcerned with such matters, preferring to make deals and then let the world around him conduct its own affairs.
Aurbrand’s retirement to Suzail was of little help to his eldest son. Though Endeir held a noble title and controlled the majority of his family’s wealth, he did not command the considerable measure of respect granted to his father by the merchants, farmers and commoners who lived and worked in nearby Nesmyth and the surrounding lands.
Endeir’s attempts to influence these individuals were, if not exactly rebuffed, politely deferred to a later time. He was often greeted with, “Whither Aurbrand?” before learning that his ideas, his advice and his coin, though appreciated, were not needed.
Without being told outright, Endeir sensed that so long as his father lived, he would be forever in his shadow. As well that the world beyond his castle walls seemed to care little that Endeir was of the nobility.
Endeir’s sense of frustration and resentment grew when word finally reached him that his father had disappeared. Despite being declared dead by the Crown, the lack of a “clean” death left Endeir fearing his father might any day return from some last, grand adventure and undo by his presence alone all the work Endeir had yet to undertake.
Suzail, the great capital of Cormyr, held opportunities that far away Nesmyth lacked. What was to be a short visit to settle his father's affairs turned into an extended stay. Endeir took up residence in his father’s mansion and made several forays into the city. There he discovered his coin was welcome, even desired, but powerful merchants, non-nobles all, held far more coin than Endeir and cared only to make him a junior partner in their endeavors.
Endeir also discovered no shortage of frustrated, angry-at-the-Crown nobles with whom he shared common cause. The ship of Cormyr was sailing in the wrong direction, of that there was no doubt. His peers saw the rise of the merchant class and the commoners as an affront to all nobility.
This frustration came to a head at the Council of the Dragon, called by King Foril to address the many concerns of the nobility, particularly with regard to the Suzail Writ. Endeir found himself happy to be embroiled in talk of justice, plots (against the Crown and fellow nobles), treason and discussions rife with bombast and rhetoric.
Endeir spent much of the family wealth bankrolling mercenaries, renting property for clandestine meetings and facilitating the work of many nobles to bring change to Cormyr, all on the promise that his efforts would be rewarded in a future Cormyr brought to heel by the nobility.
In all this Endeir felt he was doing something that finally mattered.
Endeir arrived at the Council of Dragons proud and confident. That pride proved short lived, as Endeir was the second of three nobles to be attacked and slain by a Blueflame ghost while the council was in session[1].
The mansion Endeir occupied was set afire and looted soon after his death. Though his few surviving friends claim rebellious servants were responsible, Endeir’s former servants tried to put out the fire before being set upon by unknown assailants and forced to flee the mansion. What little wealth Endeir kept, if any, was lost.
The mansion, called Ambrival House, stands to this day a blackened, scorched ruin of stone, waiting to be claimed by the next Ambrival in line.
[1] You can read the brief but gory details of the death of a Lord Ambrival on page 94 of the novel Bury Elminster Deep. I gave this dead lord the name Endeir and made up this back story for him. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 20 Apr 2015 22:59:37 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 13 May 2012 : 07:21:38
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Daervin "the Bold Lion" Ambrival
Daervin “the Bold Lion” Ambrival is the patriarch of House Ambrival and thought to be the last of the Ambrival line after his elder brother Endeir was slain at the Council of the Dragon in Suzail.
Daervin stands six and one half feet tall, is broad of the shoulder and ties back his long, curly blond hair with a leather thong. In addition to a noble title, modest landholdings and wealth, Daervin inherited his father’s brash, bold manner and a lust for adventure.
Daervin’s father Aurbrand recognized the fire in his son and promised he would not be barred from seeking adventure, so long as he completed the same schooling as his elder brother.
This Daervin did, leaving Wizard’s Run with a would-be band of newly chartered adventurers when he’d reached his seventeenth year of age, eager to make his own fortune and a name for himself as the leader of a great adventuring band.
But unlike his father, Daervin’s adventures did not bring fame, riches or recognition by the Crown of Cormyr. Daervin experienced year after year of calamity, ill-luck and the death of close friends. Those few treasures the Company of the Bold Lion recovered were used to pay for magical healing and squandered on treasure maps and rumors of riches that proved to be either misleading or false.
Realizing that the career of adventurer was not something suited to the life of a noble, Daervin wed Challantha Rhondar, his longtime love and only surviving sword-comrade. The couple retired to the family estate at Wizard’s Run, hard by Nesmyth, in southeastern Cormyr.
The couple’s first and only child, Belmer, was born within a year. The family rejoiced at the birth of their son, but were saddened to learn their son was born blind. That same year a harsh Cormyrean winter brought with it an illness that Chalantha was ill suited to repel so soon after her pregnancy.
Daervin spent that last of his personal wealth seeking a cure for Chalantha’s malady, but no priest or wizard could aid her; they could only ease her pain.
Chalantha passed away within a year, having given all of her love and the last of her life’s energy to her only son.
Leaving Belmer in the care of his grandfather, Daervin left for Suzail soon after his wife’s death, hoping to lose his pain in the task of finding and courting a new wife amongst the nobility; one who would fall deeply in love with him and bear a healthy child not inflicted with his first son’s malady and thus capable of carrying on the family line.
Daervin returned home only a handful of times over the years, never having made any headway in his search for a bride, each time more haggard and more likely to bellow his cynical frustration at the arrogance of his fellow nobles and the “unfairness of it all.”
Daervin’s years in Suzail came to an end after his father arrived (the later having chosen Suzail as the place where he would retire) but not before Daervin had become deeply indebted to various creditors. Lord Ambrival banished his son from Suzail and ordered him to return to Wizard’s Run, but he did not relieve Daervin of his debts, exhorting him to find his own means to pay what he owed.
Daervin’s burden was not lifted after his father died. His elder brother Daervin, after becomoming head of the family, quickly severed Daervin’s access to the family wealth, leaving him practically a pauper in the family castle.
The death of his elder brother served to multiply Daervin's troubles. Agents and factors of various noble families and merchants, whether seeking repayment of loans or seeking commitments from Daervin to make good on his elder brother’s promises, are a frequent sight at Wizard’s Run, as are various Crown agents and officials, the later rumored to have questioned Daervin none too kindly about his elder brother’s treachery and the loyalty of the House of Ambrival to Cormyr.
Daervin's efforts to resume the business his elder brother let falter have produced little in the way of coin. He's overheard whispers and rumors claiming his is a cursed family (this he believes the more he drinks) and that the ghosts of Wizard's Run awaken in the night to watch his keep from a distance.
The young noble family of Ambrival stands precariously close to collapse. Word at court is Ambrival is up to its ears in debt and all but guilty of treason, its current patriarch is a sullen drunkard ill-suited to the task of leading a noble family.
Ambrival is expected to implode under the weight of its troubles within a year. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 13 May 2012 08:27:23 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 14 May 2012 : 02:04:32
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Challantha Rhondar
Challantha Rhondar was a dark haired, tawny skinned songstress hailing from Ordulin in Sembia who stands as tall as a man, with wide shoulders, deep chestnut brown hair and glittering brown eyes.
The daughter of an always for-hire wagon merchant, Challantha spent much of her life moving up and down Sembia’s coast, north into the Dales and on occasion west into self righteous, overly proud Cormyr, always traveling with her father as he delivered goods from the ports of Sembia to far off places.
It was on one such occasion that Challantha happened upon a lanky, bumbling youth, all hands, feet, bright white teeth and honey blond hair, named Daervin Ambrival.
Though she was no longer a girl at the time, she was not nearly a woman. Challantha was warned to stay close to her father, but she rebelled against his stern warnings, accompanying the bright eyed young noble the next day as he went about his business, while her father spent most of his day looking up and down Marsember for her.
Daervin was in the habit of tying his hair back before engaging in sword practice, on the advice of his sword masters that untied hair was a liability in battle, so she taunted him, asking if he always did as he was told. She encouraged him to let his hair run wild, saying, “Go forth, my bold lion, to strike down your foes and win the battle this day.”
Challantha would compose on the spot ballads of his exploits: songs of folly if he did poorly, songs of valor and bravery if he faired well against his teachers.
She was reluctant to part with the young lordling that’d so caught her eye, Challantha returned to her frantic father that night and left for Sembia the following morning.
Being expected to remain silent at her father’s side taught Challantha the art of listening. After conducing his business, her father would quiz her about the conversations going on around them both while he was dealing with customers. Challantha marveled at her father’s ability to listen to what was going on around him while haggling loudly or arguing fiercely in a hushed voice, as the situation demanded.
She learned well the art of observation and listening.
Her father wished her to learn bookkeeping and the life of the merchant, but the songs of bards and minstrels, the mournful ballads of elves leaving the forest, bawdy pirate songs popular in seaside taverns up and down Sembia’s coast, the chants of the many faiths of the Realms and the hearth songs mothers sing to their children in the Dalelands called out to Challantha more.
She took up the harp as well as the lute early on, spending her time plucking away until she could replicate the tunes she’d heard on the road. In this way she learned to sing as well. By the time she was fully-grown she could sing and perform as well as most house bards in any average inn or tavern in Sembia.
Challantha never told her father about her magic; how she could make objects dance to the tune of her song, how she could light candles from a distance, cause clay pots to shatter with a sharp note, make a man's heart race with a lusty song or their blood boil with a ballad of treachery, and warm blankets or whole rooms with songs of comfort, joy and family.
On his deathbed she left her father smiling and content, singing him to sleep one last time as age and infirmity took him away from her forever. What little was left of her father’s business she sold for less than it was worth, taking the coin and a single horse-drawn wagon with which she departed for Cormyr.
By chance or by fate she met the not so young lord Ambrival as he was preparing to depart Nesmyth for a life of adventure. She joined with Daervin and his companions, the six of them forming the Company of the Bold Lion. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 20 Apr 2015 23:08:12 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 14 May 2012 : 02:10:33
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Jallask "Old Crow" Downtlurk
Jallask Downtlurk is a tall, sardonic man with shoulder length black hair that surrounds a craggy face in which two small, beady eyes sit over a large, beak-like nose. His every word and gesture communicates that he already knows what you're thinking, what your plans are, that you have no other options and yes, you really are going to take his offer.
Called "the Old Crow" when not in earshot, Jallask is a miserly, hard blade (i.e. merciless) moneylender who has long been suspected of enticing rich nobles, adventurers and merchants into deals that almost always leave Jallask richer and his patrons penniless.
Rumored to own several properties throughout Cormyr, Jallask spends much time moving from city to town to hamlet, forever keeping track of which influential individuals are in need of coin and carefully assessing how to use his loans as a means of separating these individuals from their property.
Jallask is an acute judge of character who knows on a near instinctive level when he is being lied too. While his reputation precedes him wherever he goes, Jallask is often the only person willing to provide coin to desperate individuals no other self-respecting moneylender would do business with.
As if his looks weren't reason enough, this habit of Jallask's to "swoop in, pick up the whole carcass and fly off with it,"[1] is what earned him the nickname Old Crow.
The Truth About Jallask
Unknown to all but a handful of individuals residing outside of Cormyr (as well as one dragon thought to still lair along Cormyr's border), Jallask is an original member of the exiled Merendil[2] noble family.
Jallask cultivates several varieties of jaod[3]. With these masks of living flesh he is able to craft his current visage, as well as several other faces he uses when conducting business in Cormyr.
One such face is that of Mordrin Behlaskur, a broad shouldered, sharp-eyed building inspector. Jallask takes on the identity of Mordrin when he desires to explore the various properties he claims as collateral when his debtors fail to repay their loans or when prospective buyers wish to hire the services of an experienced assessor of the value of properties put up for sale.
Jallask's true first name has been lost to time; he has been living so long in Cormyr under so many different identities that he has trouble separating his true self from the many personas he takes on. Among other roles, he is his own factor (i.e. business agent; he maintains at least four such identities), personal guard and chamberlain, and has developed a unique identity for each.
Jallask is an expert at disguise and mimicking voices, and is a living library of the various customs, protocols and rules that have fallen in and out of fashion in Cormyr. He knows a great deal about property, who has owned what and when, as well as the going rates for various holdings and estates throughout Cormyr.
Unlike his far-flung relatives, Jallask prefers to simply take possession of by legal means the various properties he suspects might contain treasures that belonged to the ancient dragon Oraundalaghhaumtalattor.
Such treasure is usually magical in nature, though most of it has been enspelled not to give off any magical radiance. Strangely enough, the jaod that Jallask uses as his living disguises are attracted to magic items whose auras have been muted, making them the perfect tools to find the dragon's lost treasures.
The life sustaining reward Oraun provides those loyal servants who return its treasure have kept Jallask alive for centuries.
[1] As related by Melmuth Orsborg, long time landlord in Suzail,
[2] See "The Merendil Gold" article in Dragon #409. Absolutely brilliant stuff and a great read.
[3] See "Masks of Living Flesh" in Dungeon #192. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 08 Mar 2014 09:16:23 |
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Fellfire
Master of Realmslore
1965 Posts |
Posted - 04 Jun 2012 : 21:22:01
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| A request, the Kennel-Master of Cormyr's hounds? |
Misanthorpe
Love is a lie. Only hate endures. Light is blinding. Only in darkness do we see clearly.
"Oh, you think darkness is your ally? You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but.. blinding. The shadows betray you because they belong to me." - Bane The Dark Knight Rises
Green Dragonscale Dice Bag by Crystalsidyll - check it out
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 05 Jun 2012 : 02:56:36
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Alright, I'll see what I can do.
In the meantime I present Daskur Windsur. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 05 Jun 2012 02:59:47 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 05 Jun 2012 : 03:03:45
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Daskur Windsur
N half-elf m F5 W3 (that's old school 2nd edition speak for Neutral, Half Elf Male 5th level Fighter, 3rd level Wizard)
Daskur Windsur is a flat faced half elf who plies his trade as a helmsman and navigator for hire out of Marsember.
Daskur keeps several blades at the ready, both on his person and within easy reach at all times, and takes pains to hide his spellcasting talents, using them only in times of great danger or peril.
Once a minor hiremage living in Westgate, Daskur took advantage of his position by spying on his employers and selling the location of their most valuable possessions to rival merchants.
Daskur doubled his earnings and, thinking to double them again, took his game one step too far by spying on the merchants he'd sold the information to, so as to inform his original employers where their stolen goods could be found.
It was not long before Daskur was forced to fight his way out of Westgate, his numerous betrayals having caught up with him.
Daskur now prefers to work with law-abiding merchants sailing cargo in and out of Marsember and is very good at predicting attacks by pirates, as well as spotting spies and assassins posing undercover as sailors or passengers aboard ship, if for no other reason then the merchants of Westgate have long memories and none have as yet decided to stop hiring assassins to bring down Daskur Windsur.
Daskur keeps his head down, works hard and does not call attention to himself. He is growing tired of being attacked and is not a man to back down from his foes, but he's also smart enough to know he can't confront his enemies directly. Thus he would pay a reasonable sum for proof that somebody was able to firmly warn off the merchants hiring assassins to kill him (burning down their warehouses, slaying their guards, appearing in their bedchambers and whispering promises of doom if a certain seafaring half-elf isn’t left alone).
Daskur, forced to leave as he was, abandoned a considerable amount of gems (he preferred payment in gems and converted paycoin to gems whenever possible) and spellbooks, most of it hidden away in loose floorboards and dust-filled attics in the three or four inns and rooming houses he called home. Even on land Daskur was never one to stay in one place for long. He was always moving around Westgate.
However, he dare not show his face in Westgate proper lest he be slain outright. The urge to retrieve his lost fortune keeps Daskur close (i.e. sailing the waters near Westage), but not too close. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 08:22:51 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jun 2012 : 07:01:45
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Ondaver Sarlarth
(Neutral Good Human Fighter 4)
Ondaver Sarlarth is a jovial, good-natured miner and stone merchant residing in Thunderstone.
A skilled stone carver, Ondaver first learned about mining and stonework while serving as a Purple Dragon soldier garrisoned in Thunderstone. Ondaver rose to the rank of Firstsword during his time of service and was called upon frequently to drive off monsters and worse from the wild lands surrounding Thunderstone, including from mines and quarries in the area.
Ondaver favors his right leg owing to an injury received in battle. He walks with a limp (though not with a cane or other walking device), is hard pressed to quicken his pace and can't mount a horse without help. His leg having never fully healed, Ondaver was forced to retire from the Purple Dragons and so he set himself to learning the art of mining and stone carving.
Ondaver works on behalf of anyone with sufficient coin to pay for high quality, rough stone that is mined and hauled out of nearby quarries and delivered to locations in eastern Cormyr. There it is worked by Ondaver and his trusted assistants into precise, intricate carvings or other ornamental stonework (grand staircases, fountains, arches, ashlar walls and so on).
Ondaver has many old friends still active in the Purple Dragons and is known as a friend and benefactor to those who fill its ranks. He offers shelter, work and camaraderie to permanently injured or retired soldiers.[1]
His mining operations are small, well armed and relatively quick. He takes only the stone he needs and does not dally to explore the dangerous environment that is Cormyr's border with Sembia.
Because his guards and most of his workmen are veteran soldiers, many a lone monster from the Vast Swamp, the Hullack and the heights of the Thunder Peaks, as well as enterprising Sembians testing Cormyr for weakness, have met their doom at the hands of Sarlarth's Stoneblades (as Ondaver calls them).
Like any merchant, Ondaver keeps an ear open to news of events transpiring in the wider world carried to Thunderstone by bards, heralds, messengers, other merchants and travelers moving up and down Thunder Way. Ondaver is keen to hear news about orcs and other monsters active in the Thunder Peaks, the activity of dwarves in the area, and the latest from adventurers about new caves or dungeon entrances discovered in the region.
In exchange for news and information, Ondaver shares word of his latest experiences outside Thunderstone.
Of late Ondaver's expeditions have met with stiff resistance from packs of wyverns and at least one dragon (who attacked so swiftly that neither Ondaver or any of his men can rightly speak to its color or size; it killed a third of his men with one well timed breath weapon attack before flying off), the former nesting in Ondaver's wide, box-like quarries while the later attacks any who approach Thunder Peaks-based tunnels that Ondaver mines for small quantities of stormrock (chrysoprase).
Ondaver is eager to see the creatures driven off or slain and not because his supply of stone is running short, but because he does not want to lose more loyal friends and experienced workers to the beasts. Ondaver has spread the word to all he knows that he's in the market for capable adventurers to clear his quarries so he can resume his work.
[1] "Better to work for Ondaver then die a slow death at Daunthers," is how one old Dragon put it. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 08:41:55 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jun 2012 : 07:02:38
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Dratha "the Old Wagon Wizard" Shelduzun
(Neutral Human Wizard 10)
Dratha Shelduzun is a caravan mage for hire, who works for various merchant costers and cabals operating in Cormyr and Sembia.
Dratha spends most of her time acting as a spell guard who assists (and sometimes commands) sellswords and mercenaries that guard caravans of wagons carrying raw goods from Cormyr to Sembia (metal ingots, paint pigments, wood finish, tack and harness, etc.), then travel back to Cormyr from Sembia with an enormous variety of finished goods (artwork, fine furniture pieces, wooden frames and stands, intricate wirework, fine metal castings and more).
While some of these caravans will continue past Cormyr into the Heartlands and even as far as the Sword Coast before they are offloaded, Dratha rarely accompanies them beyond the western edge of the Stormhorns.
It’s rumored Dratha will not travel any further west because she has made enemies in Iriaebor or among the denizens of Darkhold. These rumors are true on both counts, but fail to note a high price was long ago placed on her head, for which wizards and mercenaries from Skullwatch to Berdusk have tried and failed to collect, earning her a reputation as a fearless killer.
Tired of the constant attempts on her life, Dratha faked her own death and took the name of the mage she was purported to have slain. She moved east to Cormyr nearly two decades ago, placing some distance between her and those who might still be looking to settle scores and collect rewards, choosing a life of near-constant travel to make it that much harder to find her.
A swift slayer of men, beasts and monsters, Dratha brooks no threats and shows no mercy to anyone or anything that attacks the caravans she is hired to protect. She spends little time outside of her wagon when traveling.
In addition to housing herself and her Tressym familiar, Dratha’s personal covered wagon serves as the home of several cats. Her wagon is pulled by a seemingly intelligent, animated stone horse and has no driver. Her wagon is assumed to be heavily spelltrapped, warded against scrying, guarded by the cats and the Tressym (who are said to deliver Dratha's spells by touch on the unwary), and the wagon appears capable of holding far more objects within its red cover than a normal wagon of similar size and shape.
Some say the cats are really men who have crossed Dratha one time too many or are shapechanged pleasure slaves Dratha can call upon during especially cold nights.
Dratha does not dissuade these or other rumors from spreading.
Unlike most wizards, Dratha actively seeks apprentices. She keeps no more than two at a time, and never for longer than a year. She has taught many successful spellcasters (including not a few adventurer mages) and welcomes old students back that are ready for advanced instruction.
Wintertime forces Dratha to halt her travels. She spends the cold months in whatever city or town she ends up in and does not stray from her wagon, as her spells keep the snow off and the cold out.
During this time she continues her tutoring, looks for new students and for a stiff fee will scribe spell scrolls, identify magic items, brew potions and sell her sage advice in response to questions about all things magical.
Dratha is currently wintering in Thunderstone, having just seen the last of her apprentices home, and is looking for new ones to teach. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 08:52:14 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jun 2012 : 07:03:50
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Orndamar Windwise
(Neutral Good Human Fighter 6)
Orndamar Windwise is a quiet, brooding man with brown hair and brown eyes so dark they appear black in dim light. Of average height and build, Orndamar is surprisingly agile and strong, and an experienced sellsword.
Orndamar winters in Suzail, Arabel or Marsember, spending the cold months working as a bouncer or personal guard for hire. He spends the other three seasons of the year guarding merchants, caravans, anyone with coin or any object of value that must travel safely from one place to another in Cormyr.
Unless forced to by the point of a blade, Orndamar avoids boarding waterborne ships and will not guard anyone or anything sailing the Wyvernwater or the Dragonmere.
Orndamar enjoys battle but picks his fights smartly. He looks down on ruffians and bullyblades (men without a cause who will harass or even kill for coin) and takes work only from those he respects. He will not hire out as a blademaster unless he is absolutely in need of coin.
Preferring to travel light, Orndamar wears light armor and favors the short sword and dagger. However, he is more than capable of riding down foes with longsword or lance while encased in a suit of full plate, if the occasion calls for it.
He wears Bracers +4 and owns a matched short sword and dagger set (both items are +2 weapons; when called upon the dagger glows faintly in the presence of magic auras and items, while the short sword renders its wielder immune to non-magical disease and poisons). |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 07:27:40 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jun 2012 : 07:05:22
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Auntiver Dunshield
Proprietor of Dunshield's Arms and Armors
(Chaotic Good Human Rogue 3, Fighter 2, Wizard 1)
Auntiver Dunshield is the perspicacious and ever curious proprietor of Dunshield’s Arms and Armors, itself a tall, wide shop filled to the brim with armors, shields and weapons of all types, based in Arabel.
Dunshield’s is a converted warehouse space, its floor given over to stands displaying full suits of armor, while the side walls and rear of the warehouse feature shelves and racks filled with a huge variety of weapons. The front of the warehouse is stocked with crates featuring a miscellany of mismatched pieces of armor, arrowheads and weapon parts.
Dunshield’s does not make standard armor or weapons, preferring to purchase its supply of weapons and armors wholesale. Auntiver insists on a standardized make for the weapons he purchases, as he believes this is a good way to inspire repeat business.
Thus a sword purchased at his warehouse whose blade is broken in battle can be replaced with a new blade that fits easily into the sword's one size fits all pommel.
Within Auntiver’s shop space are sprinkled a variety of odd items: a suit of full plate made to fit a yuan-ti; an eight foot tall battle axe made for a giant; halfling war helms; glasssteel daggers; shields made of stone. This and more can be found within.
The staff at Dunshield’s are experts at resizing armors and assembling weapons from their stock supply, as well as adding adornments and decorations to already existing items. Dunshield’s does not keep a mage on staff, but gives referrals to three wizards located in Arabel that specialize in adding enchantments of all types to weapons and armor[1].
Originally a thief who plied his trade along the northern coast of the Moonsea, Auntiver took to adventuring in parts further north, exploring ruins, battling ogres and the evil priests of dark gods, and discovering lost treasures before retiring to the quiet life of a merchant. Discretion and his reputation forcing him to settle as far south as Cormyr.
Auntiver is an intensely inquisitive person, his mind always working out possible outcomes, deducing facts from minute information and imagining what his customers do outside of their time at his shop. Auntiver is likely to ask probing, open-ended questions and isn’t terribly afraid of upsetting or offending a customer if something about them piques his curiosity.
Unlocking the secrets of magic is a task that has captured Auntiver's attention and he devotes much of his free time to studying spell scrolls and spellbooks, most of which were found in his adventuring days.
When not dealing with customers or spending his nights reading his small collection of arcana, Auntiver crafts exotic weapons and makes modifications to armor. He can install nearly impossible to detect hidden dagger sheaths (and provide a thinblade to go in it), build repeating crossbows that load and fire silently, fashion gauntlets with knuckle spikes and hidden fluid reservoirs that inject poison with a hard punch, and so on.
Auntiver does not advertise these services, but will offer them to individuals that he deduces may be in the market for such.
His office space holds a selection of magical arms and armor for sale to clients who are heavy with coin or that have recovered magic items that they want to sell or trade.
He takes full advantage of Arabel's crossroads location, purchasing rare and hard to find weapons and armor to decorate his shop (the more exotic the better, though of course everything is for sale).
Few thieves attempt to steal from Dunshield's. The stories of the creative means employed by Auntiver to slay thieves who attempt to break in to his back rooms (spread by Purple Dragons sent to investigate such attempts at thievery) have caused sturdy men to choke on their drinks and think twice about crossing the proprietor of Dunshield's Arms and Armors.
[1] These mages are: Helhantra Blackbrace, Thanestra Goldharp and a third mage who prefers his (or her?) anonymity and works through intermediaries. This last wizard is known simply as the Veiled Mage. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 09:13:11 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jun 2012 : 07:12:46
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By request I present for your approval Dreskyn Hamanthor, the Royal Kennel Master of Cormyr. I have no idea to what extant Realmslore exists on hunting dogs in Cormyr or what being a Kennel Master entails, so I’m just winging it. (That is, of course, the most fun.  ). If anyone can point me to some Realmslore on the subject, I’ll see if it’s worth it to incorporate it into this write-up.
Dreskyn Hamanthor, Royal Kennel Master of Cormyr, is a short, lean man with a clean-shaven, weathered face, who can be found in and around the Royal Palace of Cormyr.
But unlike the liveried courtiers that roam the halls and back passages of the Royal Palace, Dreskyn dresses in well-worn leathers and can be found moving at a pace through the tree-filled gardens to the north of the palace or on any of several winding paths that run between the numerous noble compounds that dot the landscape along Suzail’s northern edge.
The royal quarter of Suzail sees constant foot traffic in the form of Purple Dragon patrols, courtiers moving in and out of the Royal Palace and the Promenade, War Wizards moving in packs, servants carrying out the orders of their noble lords, merchants delivering foodstuffs and other goods to order and runners carrying messages, in addition to riders of all sorts on horseback.
From this mix of Cormyrean citizenry Dreskyn chooses a target and absconds with a bit of cloth, a worn out piece of leather or some such personal item belonging to his mark without their knowing. He brings the borrowed item (he always returns the item to its owner, if it’s of any value) to the hunting hounds housed at the Royal Palace, for which he is personally responsible, seeing to their breeding, training, upkeep and well being, in addition to training his assistants and someday successors.
Once the hounds have found the scent on the item and begun howling, he sets them loose to find his target somewhere in Suzail and follows close behind on foot.
Hamanthor’s hounds have found lost noble children wandering the Royal Gardens, given chase to and treed thieves steeling from noble houses, tracked a stolen royal gown from the palace to the wagon it was hidden in as the wagon’s contents were about to be loaded onto a waiting merchant cog bound for the Vilhon Reach, and served the King and Crown Prince well during their hunting forays in the King’s Forest.
Dreskyn enjoys his work and the freedom it gives him, but prefers to be out of Suzail as much as possible with many a hound at his side.
He has a habit of constantly looking at the ground, even when being spoken too. This has put out more than one self-important person (of which there are far too many in Suzail, by Dreskyn’s way of thinking). Such people find they prefer Dreskyn return his gaze downward, as he regards those he speaks to with a nigh-fearless stare that leaves most people feeling as though the Kennel Master is sizing them up and readying to pounce.
Dreskyn keeps a small shrine dedicated to Malar, Silvanus and Shandukal and prays daily for a good hunt, the continued health of his dogs and the royal family (in that order), vibrant woodlands filled with strong-hearted stags, wild beasts and criminals, and the opportunity to travel and hunt beast and man alike.
His hounds are in demand at many Purple Dragon barracks and waykeeps on Cormyr’s borders, as more than one Purple Dragon has said to his commanding officer, “better a hound with its nose to the ground then a war wizard with his nose in the air." |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 07 Jul 2012 06:15:54 |
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Fellfire
Master of Realmslore
1965 Posts |
Posted - 13 Jun 2012 : 21:54:59
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| Good read, Jeremy. Thanks. I like that you included Malar among his patron deities. Quite fitting. |
Misanthorpe
Love is a lie. Only hate endures. Light is blinding. Only in darkness do we see clearly.
"Oh, you think darkness is your ally? You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but.. blinding. The shadows betray you because they belong to me." - Bane The Dark Knight Rises
Green Dragonscale Dice Bag by Crystalsidyll - check it out
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 15 Jul 2012 : 08:12:13
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You're most welcome Fellfire. My pleasure. 
Haldo Itreer
Haldo Itreer is an old smith who resides in Thunderstone and has recently made a small fortune selling longswords and shortswords imbued with the essence of wyverns and dragons.
Haldo forges weapons with cauldron blood—specifically wyvern blood mixed with crushed red dragon scales. The blades produced have variable effects, but all depend on their wielder slaying foes continuously in battle, as rapidly as possible.
All blades produced with Haldo’s mixture of cauldron blood have a red sheen and a minute pattern resembling scales running up and down their length.
Some blades catch fire as the blood of slain foes coats them. The blood on the blade darkens to an almost black shade and burns slowly. The blade flames will readily spread to flammable objects. If the blade wielder strikes a foe, some of the flames will transfer over (no save) and burn continuously for at least 1d4 rounds.
Still other blades produce a black, sap-like resin that mimics the effects of wyvern poison, but in addition causes those struck by the blade to feel an intense pain in their veins, as though their blood was burning.
Some claim the blades eventually consume the minds of their wielders, causing them to go into an uncontrollable rage, hacking and slaying all in sight until they’re brought low, but Haldo insists these are only rumors started by his competitors.
The specific thaethar[1] by which Haldo produces these special weapons was written down by an expatriate Mulhorandi alchemist and given as a gift to Haldo after he came across the alchemist in the midst of a harsh winter storm and half-frozen to death on the side of Thunder Way.
Haldo bundled the man up and brought him to his forge, where he provided him with food and shelter. The alchemist recovered quickly and departed over Haldo’s objections the next morning, insisting he must keep moving west until he “found his fate.” The alchemist left the recipe behind as repayment for the smith’s kindness. On the advice of the departing Mulhorandi, Haldo took the thaethar to heart before tossing the recipe into his forge fire.
The ingredients for the thaethar are understandably hard to come by. The smith pays handsomely for wyvern blood (the fresher the better) but seems to have no need for additional red dragon scales. One group of unscrupulous adventurers has tried to pass off rothe blood for wyvern blood, but learned to their dismay that the smith can identify wyvern blood by sight and has a fierce temper.
Agents working for at least one cabal of merchants in Sembia eagerly seek the Mulhorandi alchemist and have searched into Cormyr and as far as the Moonsea for him. In the meantime they are buying up (and reselling) as many of Haldo's blades as they can, though not directly so as to avoid suspicion.
[1] A name for unique forgebrew recipes, such as the one used by Haldo. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 08:18:49 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 29 Jul 2012 : 07:29:09
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Handrith of Bogbrook
Handrith of Bogbrook is a skeletal man. His thin shape is offset by his large, round head and stringy black beard. He wears a steel coronet on his balding pate and a thick gold chain around his neck, the links carved to appear like overlapping waves that run over and through each other. The remainder of Handrith’s wardrobe is shoddy: the soles of his boots flap as he walks and his black trousers barely reach his boot-tops. Regardless of weather or season, he wears a thick red coat with no undershirt.
Like most residents of Bogbrook, Handrith makes coin by selling utterdark wine. But unlike those same residents, Handrith resides in the recently righted tower of Thelgarl the Thaumaturge[1].
To those who ask, Handrith responds that “Yes, Thelgarl is alive. No, he is not taking visitors. No, he has not taught me magic,” and “no, he is not seeking apprentices nor, as said I, visitors.”
No villager in Bogbrook has confirmed Handrith’s story, but everyone agrees that one day the precipitously leaning tower of Thelgarl slowly began to right itself. At some point the moss-covered stones piled up on the ground that had fallen from the tower top all soared back up and reattached themselves, while a new door of polished wood appeared in the gaping hole that used to front the (now rebuilt) stone steps leading up to it.
According to Handrith he was the first to knock on that door and enter. Thelgarl, presumably, admitted Handrith inside and no one else since.
Thelgarl’s tower has seen much attention since its renewal, to Handrith’s advantage. In the last month he produced a large quantity of utterdark wine, renamed it “nobledark” and sold it from Thelgarl’s doorstep to the curious. One bound-for-Sembia merchant, one bulk buyer of goods for dockside inns in Marsember, an adventuring party and the factor of a minor noble all sampled Handrith’s wares and bought all they could afford.
The residents of Bogbrook are suspicious of Handrith’s success, but those who make and sell utterdark have turned hostile, their unsold brew waiting for buyers. They spread rumors openly that Handrith’s utterdark is enspelled and that Thelgarl’s return means the doom of Bogbrook.
Handrith takes this all in stride, because he knows the rumors are mostly true. Yes, his utterdark is probably enspelled (Thelgarl—or the mage claiming to be him—asks to see each bottle of utterdark before it is put up for sale) and yes, Thelgarl has grand claims for Bogbrook and “all of Cormyr beyond!”
At Thelgarl’s request, Handrith makes no mention of this. In exchange, Thelgarl has shown Handrith where to find his ancestor’s riches in the marshes and has taken to calling Handrith “Lord Bogbrook.”
Since the villagers started roaming in packs Handrith was forced to move around by night, navigating the bogs and marshes as easily as a dark elf moving through the Underdark thanks to the aid of a spectral hound that appeared (as promised by Thelgarl) once Handrith recovered the regalia of the first Lord Bogbrook.
At Thelgarl’s direction Handrith has located and harvested rare fungi and lichens from the bogs, which serve to sweeten his utterdark and “allow spells to pass more freely from the liquid to the imbiber[2],” according to Thelgarl.
Bogbrook is as much a backwater as ever. Purple Dragons are few and far between and a Wizard of War is a rare sight. Handrith expects them to arrive soon, however, with empty bottles of nobledark they’ll want desperately to refill, so he continues to produce his wine and make ready for the firsts true guests of Thelgarl’s tower to arrive.
[1] See Volo’s Guide to Cormyr, page 82.
[2] The fungi and lichens harvested by Handrith can, when added to wine or food that does not need to be heavily cooked, cause addiction in the form of a strong craving for that specific wine or food. This effect is doubly strong in individuals capable of casting spells or that are exposed to powerful magic on a daily basis (such as adventurers carrying moderately powerful magical items). |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 03 Jan 2014 07:59:23 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 26 Jan 2013 : 22:54:00
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Woops. Dreskyn Hamanthor cannot be both a wizard in Arabel and a Kennel Master in Suzail at the same time.
Fixed that. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
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Wooly Rupert
Master of Mischief
USA
36779 Posts |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 27 Jan 2013 : 22:42:05
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quote:
Originally posted by Wooly Rupert
When is our next update?
Ever have one of those days where you feel positively steamrolled by a whole bunch of (really good) Realmslore and you're not quite sure how to use it yet because you're trying to get out from under it?
That's been my weekend. 
Hope to have something posted soon. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 21 Dec 2013 : 08:44:36
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...and 12 months later I present to you one Thanestra Goldharp, of Arabel.
Thanestra Goldharp
(Lawful Neutral Human Bard 1, Fighter 1, Wizard 10)
Thanestra Goldharp’s pert nose sits on a round face framed by curly blond hair that flows down to unusually wide shoulders. Of average height, she wears a simple tunic cut away at the shoulders, revealing muscled arms covered in small scars and bearing tattoos on each: her left arm decorated in flowing black runes that start above her elbow and curve over the thick flesh of her forearm before converging in the center of her palm; her right forearm is festooned with small glyphs set in circles, from which lines radiate to other, empty circles.
Thanestra leaves her arms exposed as a first reminder to thieves, her clients and the generally arrogant that not all women, nor all mages, are weak and timid.
Her eyes are narrow and wide with pupils the color of soft brown earth. They're situated under thick, dark eyebrows that accentuate the perpetually inquisitive (some would say scowling) look with which Thanestra favors all that she sees.
Thanestra's face is expressive and revealing—an open book that she has never been afraid to allow others to read. Her forthright honesty leads others to think her blunt. Says what she thinks, her words delivered with earnest sincerity buttressed by keen wits.
That her ancestry includes dwarven blood is a truth known to many in Arabel, though few realize the granddaughter of a bellicose dwarven adventurer is also the daughter of a half-elven minstrel whose ballads were made popular a century ago on the Sea of Fallen Stars.
Thanestra takes pride in her mixed parentage, just as she takes advantage of the gifts each provides. Her voice is deep but melodious, and she can adjust her pitch up and down with ease. Like most dwarves she can mimic the voices of others and the call of animals with frightening accuracy. And like many an elf her vision is such that she can make out details (say the badges and banners of a ride of Purple Dragons) at a distance where most humans would require the aid of far scrying magic.
Her affinity for magic is matched by her affinity for the forge. In addition to her magework, Thanestra earns coin as a smith and ironmonger (making and selling pots, nails, belt buckles and the like), and as an identifier of metals and alloys. She specializes in imbuing objects with magic[1] and in applying coatings to weapons and metal armors to make them rustproof, resistant to magic and the special attacks of monsters (the touch of a rust monster, the acidic breath weapon of a black dragon, etc.).
Thanestra avoids conflict, but if pressed is an able fighter. She prefers to subdue foes from a distance with her magic (and can send her tools into a whirling maelstrom if she’s accosted at or near her smithy), but will eschew magic for up close bloodletting via spike-tipped brass knuckles and punching daggers, aiming for vital arteries and veins in order to kill attackers as quickly as possible.
[1] Generally lesser magical effects of a practical nature that are useable up to three times per day, such as mending, message, magic aura, endure elements, minor image and magic mouth. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 12 Jul 2014 07:46:07 |
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Wooly Rupert
Master of Mischief
USA
36779 Posts |
Posted - 22 Dec 2013 : 06:14:14
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Good stuff, Jeremy. I am reminded of something Ed said when commenting on an NPC I'd come up with: "as always it's characters that count most, in any story or game setting"
Keep 'em coming! |
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Candlekeep - The Library of Forgotten Realms Lore
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 22 Dec 2013 : 06:38:58
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EDIT: Thank you Wooly.
Tamphras Bloodcandle
Tamphras Bloodcandle is the owner and proprietor of Trollbreeder's Rest, a tall, many-windowed inn and rooming house situated just east of Hultail along the banks of the Thunderflow, and recently opened for business.
Many suspect elven blood runs in Tamphras' veins. He is tall and handsome, his brown hair shining to gold in the sunlight, and he carries himself with grace and assurance.
Tamphras wears long sleeved tunics of dark brown color woven from fine cloth chased with metallic threads, on which fine metal plates of gold and silver are attached. He favors knee-high boots of soft black leather.
Tamphras is appreciated by his long-staying guests for his ability to sense when it is best to be personable or aloof. As well for his ability to know, without being told, the varying needs of his guests, whatever they require (whether food, a good book or companionship).
Agents of the Crown sent to observe Tamphras note that his business is rather mundane, though on any given day it sees as many elves and half-elves pass through its doors as all other races combined.
Local rumor holds the elves and elf kin are heavily armed, travel in groups and almost always arrive from Highmoon and the Dales.[1]
What business Tamphras has with these elves is a mystery, though one alert Highknight[2] observed that members of the readyblades rotate into the elf bands when they depart Trollbreeder's, while some members of the elf bands stay behind fill the ranks of the departed.
[1] “Not so,” according to the long haul merchant Ithrim Langhorn of Hillsfar, who insists the elves and half-elves may hail from further north, but only as far as the Hullack. “The elves have found something in the forest, make no mistake, and it must be valuable to draw so many of them together in one place.”
[2] The no nonsense Brussgurt of Tyrluk. Called "nobledoom" by his fellows, he is a recent addition to the ranks of the Highknights and not yet comfortable in his position. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 29 Jul 2014 08:39:46 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 08 Jul 2014 : 07:28:25
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| Just doing edits. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
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Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jul 2014 : 07:42:28
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| Damn fine "edits" as well as original work! |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jul 2014 : 09:05:40
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Thanks Dalor.
Sir Brussgurt of Tyrluk
No living highknight of Cormyr has slain more nobles of the realm than Sir Brussgurt of Tyrluk. No living highknight has less experience in the role of highknight than Sir Brussgurt, either.
Before he became a highknight, sir Brussgurt of Tyrluk was simply known as Brussgurt. Born without rank or wealth, he knew only a simple life of farming, occasional famine, hard weather and endless toil in the backlands of northwestern Cormyr, where survival meant knowing the land, making the most of the little you had available, and earning the trust of your neighbors if you hoped to survive harsh storms and marauders (whether men or orcs or worse).
Soon after word of the discovery of dwarf forges filled with riches beneath the Stormhorns swept through Cormyr, the tiny village of Tyrluk found itself awash in that rarest of commodities: actual people.
Where a merchant new to Tyrluk would have instantly sensed the opportunity to build a rooming house or Inn[1] to house all the new arrivals, Brussgurt saw more people assembled in one place than he'd ever seen in his entire life, all of them destined to freeze to death for want of adequate shelter against the winter storm brewing high above the mountains.
Without asking for permission or waiting for orders from the local lord, Brussgurt organized his fellow farmers into teams that tore apart the traveler's wagons and rooted through their belongings for supplies. They combined this with wood harvested from the remnants the Old Shadowshield Inn[2] and whatever else they could find, and built a makeshift row of winter cottages that saved the lives of all who were not foolish enough to set out into the mountains that day, as Auril signaled her displeasure at the arrival of so many in Turluk by visiting four days of snow upon them.
With fresh snow falling, Brussgurt realized that Tyrluk was doomed to slow starvation for want of foodstuffs. He set out alone for High Horn and, to the astonishment of all, returned within a tenday, bringing with him supplies, healers and a force of Purple Dragons and war wizards.
Word of his bravery spread, and after the winter snows thawed Brussgurt was summoned to High Horn and offered the position of an officer in the Purple Dragons. He accepted and was whisked off to Suzail, there to receive training while under observation.
As it happened the disastrous Council of the Dragon was underway and Brussgurt, while stationed in the Royal Palace, found himself alone and unarmed while following a trail of butchery in the form of Purple Dragon corpses that led to the Sunstatues Chamber. There he found a trio of nobles toying with their intended prey: Prince Baerovus.
Before the nobles could slay the Obarksyr prince, Brussgurt fell upon them. He crushed the throat of the first noble with his bare hands and threw the choking lordling into his compatriot. The third noble raised his blade high to cut down the prince, but not before Brussgurt threw his weight into a statue and toppled it over, crushing him. The second noble recovered and charged Brussgurt, aiming a wicked slash for his gut. Taking up a handful of broken statue, Brussgurt parried the attack and then drove the stone into the noble’s head once, twice and a third time.
Brussgurt did not know the identity of those he’d slain[3], but soon after joining the ranks of the Highknights he learned why his fellows referred to him as “Nobledoom”.
[1] At least two did: the fat, rich and jovial Sembian Baerstus “Red Bear” Sulphander, and the cunning, always looking over his shoulder Tamthrice of Bezantur. Both built establishments in Tyrluk right across the “street” from each other and they've remained in fierce competition ever since.
[2] A once popular inn built from the remnants of the Shadowshield pony ranch (destroyed in 1371 by marauding orcs). The inn fell into disrepair after Enevra Shadowshield abandoned it and departed with her accumulated wealth for parts unknown.
[3] DM's choice. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 29 Jul 2014 08:36:38 |
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Wooly Rupert
Master of Mischief
USA
36779 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jul 2014 : 14:44:20
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quote:
Originally posted by Jeremy Grenemyer
No living highknight of Cormyr has slain more nobles of the realm than Sir Brussgurt of Tyrluk. No living highknight has less experience in the roll of highknight than Sir Brussgurt, either.
That is a really strong hook, right there. |
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Candlekeep - The Library of Forgotten Realms Lore
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I am the Giant Space Hamster of Ill Omen! |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 13 Jul 2014 : 06:20:25
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quote:
Originally posted by Wooly Rupert
That is a really strong hook, right there.
Thanks, and glad to hear you say that, as I'd hoped to write a solid hook to grab the reader.
The hard part so far has been fleshing that hook out. Still at it...
EDIT: Brussgurt's entry is all done, for now. I'll come back and clean it up when I get the chance, as it needs a good second look.
EDIT II: doing edits on entries. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 21 Jul 2014 07:35:09 |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 22 Jul 2014 : 08:53:54
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Malurantra Telgauntlet
Adventurer for Hire
PART 1 OF 3
Across Cormyr, word has spread of an outlander adventuress that knows long forgotten trails and secret paths that lead into the heart of the Hullack, and to the long buried riches of elves and nobles hidden away there.
She appears by night in towns and hamlets that border the Hullack Forest, that ancient woodland relic that was once part of a contiguous woodland stretching as far north as the Moonsea.
She attracts adventurers and treasure seekers[1], luring them to her side with stories of fallen heroes of Cormyr[2] and ancient tales of the elves that once walked Cormyr when it was still called the Wolf Woods, and the treasure hoards the elves collected from the dragons they slew.
Rarely does she depart alone, always with at least one new sword comrade at her side as she travels deep into the woods. In a few tendays, months or years she returns, bereft of her fellow adventurers and any memory of fellowships previously formed.
And the cycle continues.
[1] “Fools, all of them. Blinded by the promise of easily found riches and the favor of the nobility once their treasures lost in the Hullack are recovered. The nobles will surely rob them and they will be lucky to retain their lives.” This, according to the cynical Sage Most Learned Felnethor of Hillmarch, whose specialties include local history and the native plants and wildlife found in and along the Immerflow.
[2] Stories similar to what might be found in “The Adventures of Volo: Lost Treasures of Cormyr”, Parts 1-4, Dragon Magazine, starting approximately #278. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
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Jeremy Grenemyer
Great Reader
USA
2717 Posts |
Posted - 28 Jul 2014 : 08:34:43
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Old Drukh
Called “old Drukh” by those who know him, or “the old man with the greatsword” by those describing him, Drukh is a wandering hermit dwelling in the rolling hills north of Eveningstar.
Druk walks an area of land bordered by the Forgotten Keep and the Haunted Hauls to the south, that extends north to where the Tempest Valley and the Helmlands give way to the hard wall of the Eastern Stormhorns.
Bent of back, with hair shorn close to his head and scrawny legs poking out of tired looking breeches, Druk holds a greatsword—his only possession--with both hands and rests the flat of the wide blade against one shoulder or the other as he walks.
If there is a pattern to his wanderings then none have discerned it. What is known is that Druk is a sage and his area of expertise is swords of all kinds.
Druk can identify without fail where a sword came from, what it’s made of and if it has magical or other extraordinary properties (such as curses or legends associated with it), and may know who forged the blade and who the past wielders of a blade were, even if the blade itself is mundane and unremarkable.
If one is able to track down Druk (never an easy task, even if aided by magic[1]), he will stop and answer most any question about a sword set on the ground in front of him (never will he speak about a blade carried or wielded by another), but only if those doing the asking swear an oath not to harm him or obstruct his travels.[2]
The corpses of bullyblades and mercenaries sent to waylay Druk and carry him off to rich patrons intending to make him their pet sage have been found by more peaceful individuals seeking the Sword Sage, always in pieces.[3]
Many believe the greatsword he carries is magical, but no mage (adventurer or Wizard of War) has ever discerned any magic emanating from it. Some think the blade a gift from Tempus that prevents his being found by seeking magic, and that allows the blade to carve through anything.
It’s rumored that Druk’s sagely wisdom has engendered the success of more than one adventuring company (most recently the Five Bright Blades, based in Knightswood[4]), and the sage is known to show kindness to devout followers and priests of Tempus and Helm.
Most adult dwarves who’ve traveled for any length of time aboveground have an instant dislike for Druk, and he returns the feeling with disdain of his own. He will answer no question from a dwarf and will heave his greatsword off his shoulder to fight any dwarf that stands in his way.[5]
[1] Scrying and locating spells almost never work to find him (DM’s choice).
[2] Those who swear an oath to Druk and then go back on their word find themselves magically impeded from doing anything to harm him, including issuing orders to others to attack the sage.
[3] If examined, players will discover that whoever or whatever carved these unfortunates apart spared not armor, blades, horses or gear: all were severed into pieces with precise, straight cuts.
[4] After encountering Druk, the Five Bright Blades went on to find a cache of gold and platinum idols and religious adornments sacred to faiths dating back to the time of Netheril, somewhere in or under the grasslands north of the Stonelands and south of Moander’s Footstep, that they’ve been slowly selling off to fund expeditions in the warm months and to purchase lavish accommodations in the winter.
[5] “Oh, he’s hated, that one is. And for good reason! No dwarf worth his beard will ever forget Sheldrukharinthos. It was the Sword Sage of Zazesspur who gave away the secrets of Old Shanatar, and with it a heaping mound of wealth that belonged to the dwarves!” This according to the elderly dwarf and innkeeper Bildorf “Keglegs” Tunneldelver, of Eveningstar. |
Look for me and my content at EN World (user name: sanishiver). |
Edited by - Jeremy Grenemyer on 18 Dec 2014 08:53:59 |
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The Arcanamach
Master of Realmslore
1842 Posts |
Posted - 28 Jul 2014 : 12:05:21
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Jeremy, reading through this thread and your War Wizard thread I gotta ask. Have you ever considered running a game on rpol? I'd happily play with such a detailed and creative DM.
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I have a dream that one day, all game worlds will exist as one. |
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Folk of Cormyr
