[D&D-2e] The Touch of Death

[Demandredd]

Game Name The Touch of Death

Game System DnD 2e

Theme Characters fight for survival inside a dangerous wasteland while being hunted by a deadly enemy who will stop at nothing to destroy them

Flavour Part mystery, part survival horror intertwined within a landscape heavily influenced by Ancient Egyptian mythology

Plot Summary Ravenloft. Sages call it a demiplane of dread that is hidden away in the farthest corners of the Shadowfell, where it waits to entrap the unwary within its insidious embrace. The first such being to step within its ethereal borders was the infamous lord of Barovia, Strahd von Zarovich. On the eve of his brother's wedding, Strahd made a pact with Death itself. In return for eternal life, Strahd would give the Lord of the Necropolis the souls of everyone who attended his wedding. Yet, as with all such accords struck, there was a terrible price to pay for immortality. As Strahd committed his atrocities within Castle Ravenloft and as he bathed the stone walls and floors with the blood of everyone inside of it, his realm was pulled inside the newly created demiplane. Within Barovia itself Strahd's power and immortality were assured, yet the curse that was placed on him was terrible indeed. He could not ever leave Barovia's borders, and his greatest desires would always lay just tantalisingly outwith his outstretched hands. He was the first, yet he was not the last. Over time more came, summoned by the call of the demiplane. A call that was laced with poisonous honey, the promise of great power. Some of those were not suitable for the land's desires, and they were cast aside like a broken toy, forever stranded in this dreadful place without the ability to go home. For others, the most evil and malevolent beings in the multiverse, the realm shifted and altered. Lands and domains were formed, dark and twisted reflections of the most irredeemable and immoral personalities of these terrible beings. Here, in the heart of their domains, these Darklords possessed almost limitless power. But also, like Strahd, they could never ever leave and there they were trapped inside the demiplane of dread for all eternity. *** It was not just the Darklords that were summoned. The demiplane would also reach out to entrap unwary travellers within its ethereal embrace. It was not discerning in its choice of victim. Powerful adventurers, noble lords, criminals on the run and those of stout heart and possessed of great courage were all enveloped within the demiplane's misty borders. And so you were summoned. Whether you were plucked from your own world, or whether you have lived your entire life within this hellish netherworld is immaterial. You are claimed by the land, and what the land claims it will not let go. Escape is your goal, and although escape is improbable, if not impossible, it is a hope that you still strive for. It is, in the end, the hope that ultimately kills you. The mists of Ravenloft envelop you once again. When you realise where they have taken you, it is already too late. You find yourself in the burning wastelands of Har'Akir ~ where nothing is as it seems. The desert is a powerful foe, but in Har'Akir an ancient evil is awakening. Soon the desert will be the least of your worries. As withered hands cast off ancient shrouds, there will be little that can save you from their touch of death. Game and Application Information Welcome one, welcome all to the Touch of Death, an Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd Edition game that will be using the Ravenloft setting. Similar to my other game, this will be a shorter, more role-play focussed experience and I hope to immerse you all in the dangerous burning wasteland that will be your home for this adventure. The Touch of Death is a game that is heavily influenced by Ancient Egyptian mythology and these themes will be prevalent in the adventure's runtime, which I anticipate to last between 12-24 months depending on post rate and progress. As with all my games there will be an overarching hook that will lead to further adventures should the group decide to take that option on. Each player will start the game with 5000 experience points, which should put your character at either level 3 or 4 depending on your class selection. In terms of available sources I will accept anything from the base PHB and Complete Series of Handbooks. There is no set deadline for this game, as soon as I have four acceptable characters I will be starting the game. One of the accepted characters should ideally play a Priest or Cleric role as without the ability to turn undead I suspect you'll be in for a very painful ride . Outwith that please submit your applications for consideration in the following format:- Name: Race: Class: Kit: Age: Alignment: No evil characters please, they are not a good fit for this game Description: A short description of your character. Personality: A high level overview of your characters personality Backstory: A short backstory for the character. Please note that for the purposes of this game your characters will all know each other and will have adventured together inside of Ravenloft for a while. I am happy enough for you to consider working on in-character links either during the application process or after the game has started in earnest.

[Disaster Master]

Disaster Master's Application Name: Caitríona Mac Lochlainn Race: Human Class: Bard (?)/Psionicist Kit: Gallant (???)/Tribal Psionicist Age: 19 Alignment: Neutral Description: Caitríona is a woman who has been hardened by life all too quickly. Usually, she is estimated to be older than the 19 years that she is. Stern features have carved themselves into her narrow face. She wears her long dark brown, almost black hair loose, and she doesn't mind when the wind tousles it. Her blue eyes are always attentively observing her surroundings and even more the people around her. Her dark brows stand out clearly from her pale face. Caitríona's body is slender and of medium height. She wears leather armor over her simple clothing and a warming animal skin over her shoulders. For defense, she has a short sword, which she carries on her left hip. Personality: When she meets strangers for the first time, Caitríona is usually reserved but nevertheless friendly and polite. She usually keeps her psionic abilities a secret and appears as an ordinary adventurer. However, this changes abruptly when she is attacked or fights for a greater cause. In this case, she has no inhibitions to draw on all her resources, and the friendly yet reserved woman can quickly become a resolute fury. The escape from her ancestral village and the setbacks in her fight against the forces of Ravenloft have made her all too serious. However, deep in her heart, she has been able to preserve a glittering gem of the carefree cheerfulness of her childhood days. Now and then, it shimmers out, especially during the few times when she feels safe and among friends. Backstory: It was Caitríona's grandparents who were originally abducted to Ravenloft. They had lived far to the north in their first world, where the weather was harsh and the crops meager. Their people, however, were unsurpassed in shipbuilding and navigation, so that half of their wealth came from trade and the other half from piracy. Caitríona's grandparents had not come alone, but their entire village had been moved to the Plane of Dread with them. The Northmen were stubborn, so they acted as if nothing had happened after the first winter's initial shock in the new land and continued to try to live according to their ancestors' traditions. Nevertheless, the land slowly but surely changed the villagers. The lightness of their being gave way to sadness. Where once there had been neighborly help, finally everything was calculated on pennies and nickels. And in place of Salominian judgments and laissez-faire came harsh laws. Caitríona was born into this society 19 years ago. As she grew up, no one told her about the old days in the old world. Even if no one admitted it, the pain from being remembered what had been would have been too great. People just pretended that they had always been here. While most around her were numb and jaded, Caitríona was a decidedly happy, friendly, and compassionate child. She was like a light in the darkness and could have been destined to bring hope back to the village. However, all that changed abruptly when Caitríona, now grown into an attractive girl, turned fifteen and was to be forcibly married to the village chief. The chief was in his early fifties, had only thinning hair but an imposing girth. His previous wife had drowned, and the laws stipulated that he could choose a new one from among the girls in the village. When Caitríona heard this, she thought it was a bad joke, but she was quickly depressed to discover that it was the chief's full seriousness and that no one contradicted him. She perceived almost nothing of the wedding ceremony, the whole world around her was shrouded in gloom. She was no more than an automaton who let everything pass over her. And in the crowd that attended the ceremony were her parents, who had not thought for a second to rebel against the inhuman injustice done to their daughter. Finally, the inevitable came. On the evening of the wedding, the chief led Caitríona to his hut to get from her what he had been eagerly awaiting all along. But when he pushed her down on his bed and came over her with his heavy body, while he pulled up her skirt with one hand, suddenly unknown energies were released from inside Caitríona's mind. The chief cried out, grabbed his temples with both hands, and staggered back. Caitríona stood up and looked at him hatefully. And her hatred sent further waves of unprecedented psychic energy against him. At some point, the chief just sat in the corner like a drooling heap of misery. The girl fled from the hut and then through the streets of the village. She knew from everyone she met that they had not been on her side but had kowtowed to the chief and the customs. And to everyone she met, she telepathically inflicted the greatest pain. She didn't know why, but she was able to do so now. That was how Caitríona had left the village and gone out into the world. Over the next few weeks, she gradually understood the psionic abilities that were suddenly available to her. Though they had never been as strong as they had been that first night, when everything in her had rebelled against her destiny, she had nevertheless gained a weapon that made her superior to all others. And she understood very well how to use this new weapon. Caitríona had been a compassionate, good girl, but she turned almost into the opposite in a short time. For a while, only she counted, and the world should pay for what it had done to her. Fortunately, her conscience was not quite dead yet, but it spoke up once again. Caitríona paused and took stock of herself. The person she was acting now, that wasn't her after all. She knew that she would become crueler than all the village chiefs put together if she continued like this. But she also knew that she could never go back to her old life. Not to the place of her childhood, but also not back to the naivety of her childhood. She researched. Her village had not always been like this. It was the land that had made her village what it was now. Caitríona's adversary was not her old village, not the people, but it was the land. She didn't want to hurt anyone anymore with her uncanny abilities. And yet, she would have to use them if she wanted to fight the land. Because if she didn't, not only would she be destroyed, but so would everyone else who came after her. But the land was always stronger than her. Every time she thought she had made progress, pushed back the evil, the evil came back with double force. At some point, Caitríona understood. The key lay outside the Plane of Dread. She had to escape this plane, to the world from which her grandparents came. Only from the outside would she have a chance to save the world and her people. But the land would not let her go...

[Clawsome]

What about Faiths and Avatars and the Demi Human Deities books for clerics?

[Demandredd]

I don’t have access to those unfortunately, sorry

[Begon Ugo]

Hello friend! Would this game be open for someone with little experience with 2e experience but a willingness to learn?

[Demandredd]

Hey there, yes I’m more than happy to take on people with little or no experience of 2e.

[Begon Ugo]

WIP

Banger Name Banger Deng Race: Dwarf Class: Cleric Alignment: CG Description: Banger is a stout dwarf of typical height. The Cleric is covered by a head of wild and unruly hair that falls like rushing water down his chest and back. Banger’s piercing gaze is one that belongs to a person who is wholly dedicated to a cause or, conversely, to someone who has lost touch with reality. Background and Backstory: Banger is a traveling priest, taking it upon himself to find his fallen brethren, those who have forsaken the dwarven ways and joined fully with the tall folk. Banger reminds these dwarves of their heritage and shares a brew or two...or three... all in service to the faith. Banger finds the mines and caves of his people to be a bit stifling... not enough air flow for his tastes. So he has started a traveling ministry that sets up shop in bar and tavern far and wide, offering blessing for naut but an ale donation. Banger had been ministering to the homesick dwarves of the region for awhile now and he feels as if he has done his gods work in spades. There have been some who have named him a charlatan... but he is not called Banger for nothing. Those people who have spoken ill of Banger have been introduced personally to their god of choice, soon after.

[Begon Ugo]

Just noticed Clawsome’s post above: I would be more than willing to make banger a fighter if you have a cleric in mind.

[Clawsome]

Sounds like this party could use several clerics or pallys I don't know much about ravenloft for background information.

[Clawsome]

Mogue Ironforge Name: Mogue Ironforge Race: Gold Dwarf Class: Fighter 2nd/Cleric 2nd Kit: Champion (God of Strength) Age: 67 Sex: Male Alignment: LG Description: Mogue is an average size Gold Dwarf at a little over three and a half feet tall. He is almost as wide as tall, being quite stout. Like many of his brethren, his deep silver gray hair grows unbound. His mustache and beard grow together to the point of not knowing the difference. It is well over a foot long. He is tan from as many days under the sun as in the mountain. He usually wears silver chain armor when conducting priestly duties or ceremonies and silver plate armor in battle and when traveling. A silver holy symbol with twin-crossed battle-axes, hangs from his neck. He carries a very large two-handed battle-axe across his back. He walks with confidence, smiles continuously, and appears to enjoy all that life offers. Personality: Mogue is outgoing and much more approachable than the average dwarf is. That was learned from spending many years on the road intermixing with other races. He is loyal to his friends. He is devoutly loyal to Clangeddin Silverbeard, his patron, which has gotten him into more than one bar fight over the years. He likes good food, drink and fighting the best. Background: Mogue was an only child born to Anna and Kreyton Ironforge. His mom, Anna was the Clan Cleric (Clangeddin Silverbeard) and Kreyton was the Clan Chief. The Ironforge clan is located deep in the Dragon Spine Mountains. It was a tough life living with Dragons, giants and all kinds of goblinoids running around. It was expected he would follow in one of his parent’s footsteps growing up. He surprised them by choosing to follow both. He trained tirelessly in both clerical and fighter tactics and techniques. He excelled at both paths. Over the years, he led that typical dwarven life of working in the mines and defending the clan from roaming monsters. They played hard and trained harder. His other passion was Weaponsmithing. It gave him a quiet place to contemplate things while smacking some ore into metal. He became quite good at it. Mogue had been in many skirmishes over the years starting at a very early age as it is with all dwarves. It was after one particular battle that Mogue earned his standing in the clan. He was part of an exploration mining crew-mapping deep in the eastern mines when zombies and a ghoul attacked them. They had apparently uncovered an old tomb with undead. Several dwarves died that day, but many more were saved by Mogue’s heroics. He helped lead the counterattack turning zombies and personally slaying the ghoul. It was after this attack and victory that Mogue had earned the title of Clan Champion. Soon after his promotion, he went on several more forays, leading the way with his clan mates fighting orc and goblins alike both inside the mountain and on the roads during merchant caravans to the area cities and towns for trade. He really loved the mines, but he also loved the open road and the ability to explore. One evening while exploring he was unceremoniously transported to this realm of Ravenloft. How he got here, only the Gods know. What he does know is he has spent his last few years fighting evil, surviving, and trying to find a way home. During this time he has found a small group of companions that he has worked with and together they are working on a way home and bashing evil is just a bonus.

[Demandredd]

Originally Posted by Clawsome

I don't know much about ravenloft for background information.

And this is half the fun of Ravenloft, you genuinely don't know where you're going to end up next

[mpowell60]

Love the concept.
wish I had more spare time!

[Silent Rain]

Reese Lindon Name: Reese Lindon Race: Human Class: Ranger Kit: Justifier Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Good Description: Reese's lean frame stands just under six feet tall. His dark hair hangs to his shoulders and there is usually a varying amount of stubble shadowing his face. An unstrung bow, quiver of arrows and bedroll are nearly always on his back, along with a sword at his hip. His clothes are usually simple, but of good quality, with a hooded cloak accompanying nearly every outfit. When in the wild, he wears a layer of hard leather armor. Personality: Reese is a man of few words, a trait likely earned from spending weeks at a time in the wilderness with no one but himself to talk to. Even still, he has a genuine smile that comes easily around those he considers friends. Most of his life has been in the service of others, a result of his inability to allow perceived injustices to be done unto others. This outlook has placed Reese in more than one conflict that could have been avoided had he simply been able to look the other way. Backstory: Reese cut his teeth as a mercenary for Furyondy, one of the many sell-swords hired by the Highfolk to bolster the thinning ranks as they continued to repel the advances of Iuz. His quick thinking and skills with the blade and bow allowed Reese to rise quickly among the ranks of the mercenary armies. His proficiency as a forward scout and tactician were pivotal in the northern provinces and the Vesve Forest remaining out of Iuz's grasp. It was during one such scouting mission through the Vesve forest that an unexpected mist began to rise from the forest floor, eventually becoming so thick that he could barely see his own hand. When the mist finally receded, he could tell right away that something was wrong, as the terrain had become foreign to him. He didn't know it at the time, but he was standing in a rocky outcropping within the wastelands of Har'Akir. That was five years ago. Since then, he as done what he has always done: survive. At first, the desert was a threat unto itself. Although that has not changed, Reese has come to learn its ways as much as anyone can. His journeys across the wasteland has earned him several friends and even a few enemies.

[Stormhammer]

Name: Sobek
Race: Lizard Man
Class: Fighter
Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance: Sobek is covered in dark green scales. He wears black robes and wields a battle axe. He carries several waterskins full of water on his belt that he uses to keep his skin moist in the harsh deserts.

Personality: Sobek is brash; he is known to act without due consideration. He can be intrusive and presumptuous at times. He lacks tact and can come across as blunt. But he is dutiful and loyal.

Background: Long ago, an adventuring party stumbled upon a dilapidated stone tower half-sunken in the murky waters of a forlorn marsh. A man in a nearby village claimed that a priceless ruby was buried in the tower. In one of the crumbling rooms was discovered a clutch of reptilian eggs. A behemoth serpent had devoured most of the eggs. But one of the hatchlings had survived. Unable to dispatch such a pitiful abomination, the adventurers took the creature with them. Adopted and raised as the son of one of the adventurers, a warrior named Rovert, the lizard was named after an ancient crocodile god. He reached maturity within five years of hatching. It was then that Rovert began to forge him into a formidable warrior.

Sobek eventually departed Rovert on a quest of self-discovery. He wandered into the marsh where he hatched. He contemplated his existence as well as his purpose in the world. He sought to escape the trepidation that he was little more than a monster. He sought out his kin for a time in hopes that he could discover more about his origins. But one night he wandered into a strange mist that began to swirl up from the bogs. When it at last receded, he found that he had been magically transported to the deserts of Har'Akir. He immediately began to dehydrate as the arid climate drained the moisture from his skin. Fortunately, he ran into a group of adventurers that demonstrated mercy rather than kill him outright. The adventurers poured what water they had over the skin of the lizard man. He swore his loyalty to them that day.

[Jab Burrwalky]

Hello! I hope its not too late to throw my hat into the ring! I've played some 2e before, but not a ton.

Application for Marik Armstrong Name: Marik Armstrong Race: Human Class: Paladin 3 Kit: Ghosthunter Age: 24 Alignment: Lawful Good (but not Stupid Good) Description: Marik stands 6'3" with golden blond hair and a well-groomed and trim reddish blond beard. He his trim and fit from his disciplined lifestyle and the rigors of his order. He bears a shallow scar across his left cheek from just above his ear to just below the corner of his mouth. His eyes are a bright clear green. His nose is narrow, high rooted, and straight. His brow is slightly heavy, with a permanent small crease between his eyebrows, giving him a look of almost constant brooding, despite usually being of good cheer. Personality: Marik has a strong cynical streak and an inquisitive drive which often leads him into trouble with people who prefer their secrets kept secret, as he assumes that the secret is being kept for a nefarious purpose and he wants to know what it is anyway. This is true regardless of how great or small the matter is. Nevertheless, he is usually of good mood, not brooding and dour, and often cracks jokes or recounts amusing anecdotes (at least he finds them amusing). He is fond of puns and wordplay, and enjoys good-natured banter and light-hearted ribbing between comrades. He is of generous and charitable nature, as is required by his order, showing mercy to most he comes across, but is also fierce and unrelenting in battle. However, he has a deep and abiding hatred of the undead, and is bound by an oath of vengeance to destroy all who tamper with such desecrating sorceries. Backstory: Marik was raised in a small peasant village . . . Work in Progress