View Full Version : The Eight Gates of Shibolanth--Seattle, WA

04-16-2010, 10:16 PM
The campaign world: The known history of the world stretches back but a handful of centuries, though the landscape is dotted with ruins and artifacts from the time before history--including great mechanisms the purpose for and workings of are far beyond the current magical or technological knowledge of the most advanced scholars in the world. The legends claim that these are the relics of a golden age, cut short by the first apocalypse--great cataclysms that even now scar the land. The nation of Shibolanth, where the campaign unfolds, has eight great cities. These cities have grown up on such ruins, including great magical signal fires that tradition states must never go out, lest unthinkable horror, unspeakable tragedy, and unknowable chaos engulf the world. Near the center of Shibolanth is an expanse of forbidden forest with massive ruins rising above the tree line. The few who have ventured there and survived have been driven irretrievably mad. Beyond the borders of Shibolanth, and the handful of other civilized nations, lie the wilds. Eddies of maddening magical energy, violent, unnatural storms, tribes of nomads, hordes of monsters, and the ocassional evil mastermind bent on world domination, ultimate power, or piercing the thick veils that make travel and communication between the plains virtually impossible characterize these vast expanses, where the heroes of history and of your own time have been forged. Despite the chaos surrounding the civilized nations, they are relatively peaceful and prosperous, all things considered.

Except seven of the eight signal fires have just gone out. There has been no communication from these cities, or from the king of Shibolanth. And representatives of the other nations of the world have arrived in the one remaining city to demand that the reason for this be discovered and the problem solved--or the nation of Shibolanth will be razed and any memory of it be eradicated.

Bewildered, the remaining council members have sent out a desperate summons to the great heroes of their time.

Who will rise to the occasion?

---------- Post added at 10:16 PM ---------- Previous post was at 09:42 PM ----------

The game: If it's been released in 4e, it's allowed. I have a more detailed (4 page) guide to the campaign world if you would like me to send it to you. The game will focus on role playing and puzzle solving just as much as combat.

The group: We are a group of professional adults and meet in Wedgewood twice monthly on Wednesdays. We do dinner as a potluck and all like to cook.

Our group focuses on role player and puts a lot of work into our characters, so if you are interested, describe a character you have played or would like to play in addition to telling us about yourself. We look forward to hearing from you!

04-18-2010, 08:49 AM
Hey there,

I may be interested in joining you all, especially since I live in Wesgwood. Were about Wedgwood do you meet? I see the sessions are on Wednesdays, what time to you get together and how long to the games go to?


04-19-2010, 10:20 AM
Just to append my post above: I am very interested in joining the game, I'd just like to get an idea of what time the games start so I can be sure it works with my schedule before I submit past character information.

I live in Wedgwood and am a working professional who loves to cook as well. I have a family so getting a better idea of the start time would help me to see if your game schedule works for me.

Below is the character background I wrote for a Bard I played in a 3.5 Eberron game. The name 'The Gray Mouser' is obviously taken from the Fahfard and Gray Mouser comics.

"Me? You want to know about me, eh? Of course you do, darling,” he says leaning back in his chair with a broad smile. “The exploits of The Gray Mouser are legendary, for the roads I have traveled are many and long. From the mountains of Kalnaria to the desert flats of Yamani, I've had adventure and stared death in the face all across these lands. I hope you have time, friend, for this is going to take more time than taming an Elshavian stallion. Which reminds of the summer of '12 when I led an expedition deep…….what? Start at the beginning, eh? Very well, then. You're the one buying ale.” The handsome man orders another round of ales before continuing his tale.
"Well, I was born the first son of the great and noble Anthony Gray from The Gray Family of eastern Sharn. My upbringing was fairly standard, with fencing on the east lawn and fox hunts in the lower woods. As much as I enjoyed the rewards of noble life, as I grew, I yearned for more. Thus, on the day of my 18th year, I bid my family farewell and set out on the path of adventure, much like the young men of the Yaak tribe of barbarians to the far west. Did you know the Yaak warriors find red capes to be a sign of war? I didn't and I nearly paid dearly for that mistake. There I was, leading a wounded caravan into Brumengan territory after repelling an attack of Fel Skunk, when we find ourselves surrounded 100 to 1. So I stri-- Interrupting again, are you? That’s very rude you know. Skip ahead to how I found my way here? Well that's no fun, but if you insist."
"After an arduous trek through the fierce jungles of Marouc, I returned to these lands to take a little time off in this beautiful city of yours. As I approached town, I came across a lovely damsel being harassed by a dozen savage brutes. Naturally, I stepped in and drove off many of them, but the remaining brutes attacked. I allowed the cowards to strike at me to buy time for the young lady escaped. I was in the process of preparing to turn the tables on the rats when my quiet, but loyal friend here, Mr. Fist” he says, gesturing towards the massive Warforged Monk at this side, “mistook the situation for an ambush and jumped in as well. The highway men were quickly dispatched and introductions where made between he and I. Being unwise to the ways of the world, I took the big fella under my wing and we've been traveling companions ever since. He may not be wise to the ways of civilization, but do not cross that one, my friend, for he can get angrier than a banshee from the Shimmering Flats of Arnai. That reminds me of the……."

The Gray Mouser is a handsome human male in his early 30’s. He has a quick wit and a special way with conversing with others. However, many of his conversations end up becoming tales of pervious adventure. It is not common at all for a simple question to be answered with a “This reminds me of the time when…”
The Gray Mouser seeks fame and fortune on the path of adventure. Well….he does so long as that path leads back to a Gentleman’s Club of some sort.

The below information is for the DM only.

When asked, this is the story The Gray Mouser tells of his upbringing and the start to his grand adventures. The truth, however, is much different. The Gray Mouser is the favored persona of one Dmitri Gray. Dmitri was born to a human mother and Doppelganger father. Dmitri is a changeling: a fact that he has been made ashamed of by his mother, Ivanna, every since he can remember. While a loving and caring woman, she was always told to hide his true heritage because ‘it will only invite unwanted attention and trouble’. While Dmitri continues to do so to this day, he uses his secret as an advantage, not as a curse.
Of his father, Dmitri knows nothing. Ever since he can remember, it has been he and Ivanna moving around from city to city. His mother, always found work as a barmaid in the towns the landed in, but they never stayed for too long. Always keeping ahead of whatever it was that Dmitri's mother seemed to be running from. Dmitri always wondered if this was part of the reason he was told to hide his identity. Dmitri does not remember much of his early life other than he and his mother were always on the move. From town to town; from bar to bar. Because he spent much of his youth running around the tap rooms while him mother worked, Dmitri became adept at working a crowd from a young age. However, it was not until they moved to the big city of [insert city here], where his mother got a job at The Wandering Moose, that Dmitri truly learned the ways of the bard. The owner of The Wandering Moose was a man named Rogan Muzmante, or The Moose. The Moose was a bard of some repute who decided his adventuring days were long behind him and it was time to retire. Thus, he opened The Wandering Moose. He immediately saw a little of himself in young Dmitri and he took the young lad under his wing. Over the years, Dmitri honed his skills under the guidance of The Moose. He learned to cast simple spells and to weave mundane stories into fantastic tales of adventure; in fact, many of the stories told by Dmitri are versions of stories told by The Moose. This relationship ended up being a boon, and bane for the young Dmitri for because of the relationship between Dmitri and The Moose, his mother did not move onto another town as she should have. The past has a funny way of catching up to people, and it caught up to Ivanna in the form of an assassin's blade.
While out shopping one day, Ivanna was slain by an assassin only feet from the door to her residence. Dmitri was honing his craft in another form when he witnessed the attack, and heard the assassin ask her "where's you freak child?" When Ivanna refused to answer, the assassin slid the knife up under her ribcage. Dmitri immediately fled to The Wandering Moose where he told The Moose what had happened. Dmitri was quickly ushered into the back room where The Moose handed him a pack of supplies and a rapier and told him to flee as quickly as he could. He was not to come back to [insert city name] under any circumstances. With a pack and sword under his arm, Dmitri ran from the bar, from the city, and from the life he had know. He changed his appearance and took on the name, The Gray Mouser as he roamed from town to town seeking fame, fortune, and the answer to the questions: What was his mother running from and why were assassins looking for him?
One of those questions was partially answered while traveling in Khourvaire when he was waylaid by a group of men that called him by his given name, Dmitri. They said, "Dmitri, your father sends his regards" before attacking him. Surely he would have died that day had Fist not come to his aid. The kind, gentle, yet powerful Warforged soon because a fast friend of The Gray Mouser. He provided the muscle, while The Gray Mouser provided the charisma. Together, they made a great team.