Uploaded by wadd1223

D&D

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Orientation
Locations:
- Midian (gameforge.ai)
o Divine Counsel of the Tripartite
- Desert Fathers
o Half-elf Alcazar, leader
- Wandering Tribes encampment
o Gro’omsh orc, leader
- The Pale
Factions:
- Midian
o Divine Counsel
o The Cornerstone
o The Monarchy
- Desert Fathers
- The Wandering Tribes
- The Tripartite ((Purity (child), Mercy (mother), Justice (father))
o Purity (no arms or legs)
o Mercy (no tongue)
o Justice (no eyes)
All paths lead to the Garden
It is mapped in the fractures in the mirror
Pray before the Altar of Needles
Worship in the Temple of Smoke
Whine at the feet of Surrender
Pale Encounters:
- Bubble girl aka hag coven (party sees key people in the bubbles) - Pray Before the Altar of
Needles
o Wizard trapped in the Pale (Alcazar) pleads for the players help. Rat king vaguely
recognizes him.
- Encountering Chemosh worshippers, being called plague worshippers (Worship in the Temple of
Smoke)
o The Dealer (potential to gain items or lose everything)
 Items:
 Potion of Heroism
 Ring of Spell Storing
 Spellguard Shield
 Slippers of Spider Climbing
 Dwarven Thrower
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Instrument of the Bards (Anstruth Harp)
Ioun Stone (Protection)
Iron Bands of Bilarro
Javelin of Lightning
Necklace of Fireballs (4 beads)
Pipes of Haunting
Ring of Protection
Ring of Shooting Stars
Bracers of Defense
Arrows of Slaying (Aberrations, Celestials, Humanoids, Monstrosity, Fey,
Fiends, Undead)
 Sunblade
 Cloak of Displacement
 Belt of the Dwarvenkind
Colossal dead humanoid, beating heart (Whine at the Feet of Surrender)
Inspiration
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At the end of every rest, you lose all but one point of inspiration.
You can only gain one inspiration every scene/encounter/combat unless otherwise specified.
Today, a dry, brittle wind whips through the spare foliage that stands against the washed-out
sky. The sky is barely blue, the sparse vegetation wistfully green, as if longing for life it could not have.
Vibrancy, lushness, richness — these were never words used to describe Midian since The Pale
appeared. The town stands faded and silent as the denizens of Midian attend the most exciting trial in a
century.
Mute would be the most apt word to describe how the party stands before the Divine Counsel.
In the temple judgement room sat the three members of the divine counsel on modest thrones. Each
looked sternly upon the group before them, expressions not typically shown before royalty but reserved
for such times as these. The sentence had just been declared and the finality settled upon the listeners
as if a fine dust. “The gods demand a Pilgrimage into the Pale to atone for your sins and to receive their
message for the next generation of Midianites.” This was to be their fate. This, their punishment. This,
perhaps, their futures or their final journey. Only twice before in recorded history had a pilgrimage been
demanded by the gods and neither returned. Now, only Pale Runners venture into the pale, and always
away from the eye of the law. Yet, what could be done? The kingdom is on brink of a holy war, violent
factions growing bolder and more threatening each day, against each other, against the throne, against
the church itself.
As the verdict sounds, whispers broke out amongst the attendees. Murmurs of approval, solemn
nods and grim smiles represented the majority of the townsfolk. The king should indeed venture into
The Pale - may the gods deal with him directly. A smaller sect seated directly behind the king looked
pinched and concerned - if the gods appointed the king, who were they to question their judgement?
Who were mere humans to put their servant to the test? What if they took their wrath out among the
people?
The king attempted to square his shoulders. The attempt was perhaps not as impressive as he
hoped - after years of sitting and leaning, they had rolled solidly into a hunch, matching his growing belly
and ever-rounder face. He kept his face forward, but his eyes darted to his left and right, surveying the
faces of his fellow accused. The murmurs rose behind him, but he dares not look back and give those in
agreement the satisfaction. If this was to be his fate, let it be. The gods chose him and by the gods they
will sustain and approve him. Once he returns the city will worship him all the more for the valor and
courage of his pilgrimage. Finally, they will love him.
Instinctively, the Queen’s hand fluttered - an instant she hoped no one took notice of. She
closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Even the healthiest of townsfolk were lost to The
Pale. She glanced nervously towards the king and glanced down at the faded temple tile. She would go.
She would go, but only if to keep the king’s legacy preserved.
The Rat King stood slightly apart from the rest of the accused, looking out of the temple window
towards The Pale. It pulsed, calling to him, beckoning. His beady black eyes bulged greedily in return. He
stood slightly tilted, like he was leaning but with nothing to support him. A small smile alighted, briefly,
on his face and he returned his gaze upon the thrones. This, finally. This was his great opportunity.
The priest’s gray blue eyes caught the Queen’s. The king’s pathetic attempt at stoicism made him smile.
Grin, even. He closed his eyes and lifted scarred hands in prayer of thanks to the gods. What a privilege
to be nearer to them. What a privilege, to serve them justly. What a privilege to be chosen by the Divine
as is his priestly right.
The Zealot, the only member of the party with his hands bound, scoffs at the verdict. How is this
venture going to help the people of Midian? How is it going to work to relinquish the divine counsel’s
grip over the city? He realizes that only by being able to disprove the gods exist is he going to be able to
achieve what his goal. Steeled, he breathes out. He will accompany this group and will return with proof
to the people of Midian that the gods do not exist, liberating them in the process.
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The queen – actions speak louder than words, will return with the king
or not at all
The king – king squeezes the queen’s hand, thanks for the counsel,
doesn’t want to go against the god’s will, wants to be loyal to the
people and counsel, and most importantly the gods
The priest – 9 trumpets will be heard and a river of purity will be heard
in the pale where we will find the gods, he will be bringing back news
from the gods for the divine counsel
The zealot – I’ll see y’all in a couple of weeks
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King of Rats – king of everyone, king of nobodies, if what you accuse me
of is correct, you’ll have no issue with me or any of us coming back from
the pale, remember that from the pale to the center of midian my crew
can get any message or item from anyone to anywhere – we are the
runners.
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The queen – Jadis, long black hair in loose braid, in public bun
The zealot – Glendale Greyriver (Glen), dark hair, dark beard
The priest – Father Aleanardo
The king – Fredrick the III of House Hohenzollern
King of rats – James G. Offer, wants to make sure his people are taken
care of, wants to reiterate the party follows the runners
Characters
40 templars waiting to escort them to the pale
As you enter the pale, you feel simultaneously pulled and as if the floor is dropping beneath you.
Your vision blackens for a split second and then returns to focus. Beneath you previously was the pale,
white, powdery sand of Midian. Now, in its place, luscious green grass. Before, the sky was just
beginning to brighten as the sun came across the horizon. Now, it appears to be the middle of the night
and the path before you is illuminated by an otherworldly full moon. The scent of the desert was
previously dusty with a faint touch of the smoke of the forges of Midian just beginning to be sparked for
the day. Now, your noses are filled with the fresh scent of evening dew as you give an instinctive shiver
as you feel the breeze of this area, easily 40 degrees cooler than the area you just departed from.
Illuminated by the full moon, a solitary mirror stands in the path before you. The mirror is 10
feet tall and bordered with ornate images of the tripartite in gold leaf. To the right of the mirror, a small
hammer, similar to a geologist’s hammer, sits on stool that is similarly adorned with gold leaf images of
the gods.
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