[Game Thread] Storyline

[Necrotic Schism]

It was another night at the Laughing Skull, the slightly morbid tavern for the pessimistic and otherwise weary travelers to England. Unique to this evening, the traveling bard Melmoth was playing his pipe at a dismal minor key as he recalled his tales of bravery and tragedy before his mostly apathetic audience. I say "mostly" because there was one certain character who seemed interested at his mention of the tribe of shamans and Eagle Warriors who worshipped through sacrifice and death. Many would dread such a necromancer if they ever found themselves in his way. Apparantly, Larry was his name {according to the character sheet}. Among the audience, too, was a dark cleric by the name of Hans Kirsk. These two people would typically be just more travellers throwing coins at the petty bard, but not when something new happens. Something happens that cannot be ignored by the common eye, but is simply enthralling to the magically intuitive. The bard was in the middle of his tale of strange Aztecs and their abhorred rituals of violence when he mentioned the name of their abyssal god of death, Mictlantecutli. At the last syllable of this name, the bard's face went blank and he fell unconscious. Some laborers and the barkeep came to help him up after his momentary coma, assuming that he had had too much beer. But the Necromancer and the Cleric knew much better. For at the mention of the god, of whom they had never before heard the name of, they both felt the presence of something vastly more powerful than themselves. And more evil. Apparantly, this bard had seen things that were much more important than he was letting on. The two separately left the tavern, being sure not to cause attention.

Later in the night, the bard Melmoth went out for some fresh air when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and forced into the neighboring alleyway. The Necromancer came close to Melmoth and whispered: "what really happened in there?"

"What? You mean my fainting? oh, I just do that to keep peoples' attention..."

"I felt a dark presence in that room when you mentioned the Aztec god. You cannot say it was nothing!" Searching the necromancer's chilling face, he decided it would be advantageous to tell the whole tale.

"Alright, alright, lemme go. I had a vision. I've been having them for a while now, but never while I'm awake. I really have been to the Yucatan, and I stayed with the Aztecs for nigh two years. However, there was no adventure. Nor was there any heroic figure for me to follow around. Sure, I saw everything which I told tale of, but there was no story behind it all. I stayed with the Aztec shamans as a pupil. They taught me to invoke the dark arts and, well... I wanted to learn more. I have my own reasons, and that business should be none of yours." The Necromancer loosened his grip on the frantic bard.

"I believe you. But I must tell you that it is my business. I wish to learn more of these dark arts. The spells you touched upon seem familiar to the ones which I read about."

"But what of these visions?" Both men turned to the new speaker. The cleric stepped into the alley from the empty street, submissive but stoically powerful in appearance. "You said that you had a vision." Melmoth looked back at the necromancer. Apparantly, both were now interested in his vision more than the sight of one another.

"I... I think that they are in trouble. They don't know anyone outside of their tribe, and so they must be sending me these visions to come and help them. Something powerful is coming to destroy their entire civilization."

"Why would such an evil race seek help?" the necromancer wondered aloud. "Will you help them?"

"I don't think the visions will stop unless I do. They are starting to become painful when I get them. I haven't had a restful sleep in days."

The Necromancer thought: If this tribe disappears, then there may be spells that I've never even heard of which would be lost forever. This bard could lead me there...

"I believe it will take more than just yourself if you are to defeat something which would destroy a civilization. I, Larry the Necromancer, will aid you should you choose to obey your visions." He bowed lightly to show that he was serious.

"I think that I just might take you up on that. Is this true with you as well, cleric?" Melmoth asked.

The cleric was pensive for a moment, but then said "Yes. I too shall accompany you to the New World. However, I will need a two days to prepare." The bard nodded.

"We will have to take time to hire a vessel and find a crew, in the meantime. We should meet here at this tavern again once we are ready, after two days time. Don't worry about a crew. I can take care of that easily enough. But feel free to carry along anything that you think will be useful on our journey." Melmoth bowed to the Necromancer, acknowledging him. "Larry, good night, and..."

"Hans Kirsk," said the cleric flatly. The bard grinned and bowed again.

"and good night, Hans." The three parted into the foggy streets, their lives turned to an unexpected path. In just two days, they would be on a ship bound for another continent, and bound for the perils which await all travelers who would stray so far from their homes.

{At this point, make sure that you have all of the equipment that you need, and if you want to take some ranks in sailing or have your character read some books on the places they are headed, then do so. We'll be traveling either North or South along the coast, to circle around the Atlantic. If you have any preference to North or South, then we'll bring it up once we have all met again. Post anything in the Roleplaying thread.}