Post date: 13-Aug-2015 13:42:24
*NOTE: Clan Slayer joined the party during the adventure's second session.
Clan-Slayer walked in the shadow of the Earthspur Mountains, his former home and the site of his people's tragic fall at his hands. He made his way towards his cabin home, high in the treetops near the mouth of the river that connected Moonsea to the Sea of Fallen Stars. The small party of halflings he had guided through the forest to Calaunt had paid him sufficiently to sustain his wilderness lifestyle, and he was looking forward to an evening of quiet meditation on his rooftop gazing at the star-strewn sky.
As he neared his home, he saw a young warrior walking through the forest towards him. The man seemed disinterested in Clan Slayer, but it was never wise to simply ignore someone passing you in the wood. So as they neared each other, Clan Slayer took pains to circle wide around the man, his longbow out and ready, but not in a threatening pose.
Clan Slayer did not like the look of the man. He was dressed well enough for his class, albeit modestly, but there was something menacing in the man's eyes. Clan Slayer would be happy to see the man depart his woods.
Without warning, the sky grew dark, although there were no clouds to be seen. The man looked up at the blackening sky in puzzlement. Then, he let out a yawn, his eyes growing dim. With a stretch, the man collapsed into a deep sleep.
Clan Slayer felt heavy-lidded, and fought desperately to stay awake. He knew the futility of his efforts, but he was a goliath, and could not accept defeat passively. He staggered passed the sleeping fighter, his arms slumping beside him, his long bow dragging behind him like a lead weight. His next step brought him to his knees, and then he was crawling, then dragging himself forward. Finally, he could keep his eyes open no longer, and his head fell onto the soft pillow of some green moss.
He was standing in a bleak landscape, alone. A voice rumbled across the empty gray expanse. "Kelemvor, god of the dead, summons you as a holy warrior in protection of the places of the dead. " The landscape shifted into that of a graveyard of limitless length and width, with altars and catacombs and great masses of grave markers. "Do you swear to fight, and if necessary, die for this noble purpose?"
Clan Slayer loathed the very idea of being used in this way, like a puppet on the string of some great cosmic puppeteer. Yet he knew that refusal meant a fate far worse than death, and the extreme likelihood that he would not be able to someday bring honor and peace to his fallen clan should he refuse. Reluctantly, he looked skyward. "I so swear."
Lighting from everywhere engulfed, but did not harm, Clan Slayer. The world went white.
He was standing within the expanse of a green lawn on a bright sunny day. From the masses of flowers and intricately-cut hedges it would be easy to mistake this place for a city park. Yet it was unmistakably a graveyard, one tended by keepers of great skill and passion.
The fighter was, annoyingly, beside him. Evidently, he had also agreed to this 'holy' quest. The man looked ruffled and unsettled. He did his best to compose himself, then turned to Clan Slayer. "So, it seems we are to be partners in our godly mission. I suppose we should get to it. Where do you suppose we can find the entrance to the catacombs?"
As if in answer, the ground beneath them creaked and shifted. The pair looked down. They were atop a large, rusted grate, a ventilator to the catacombs below, which was overgrown with creeping grass. Under their weight, the grate's fasteners gave way with a snap, and the two men fell.
The crashed through the grate through a ceiling into a dark room.