Cohor Pithedaiya

Cohor Pithedaiya

The Pithedaiya Family has held the right to rule over Sevenlia for over two centuries. Cohor was the crown prince, destined to assume the mantle of sovereign. His younger brother, out of greed for the throne and spite of living in his older brother's shadows, murdered Cohor. Slit his neck. Had him taken away and dropped into the ocean, held to the bottom of a bay by ball and chain, never to be seen or heard of again.   ...Unless Kelemvor had a say in the matter. Cohor's spirit was returned to its old, now damaged and broken home. Now revenant, Cohor's mission has been assigned to him. Avenge his death.

Cohor is a rotted dead man. A revenant is what lore books would call him. An average-sized man, whose decrepit body is masked by gleaming armor, a long, blonde wig, and heavy amounts of makeup.

View Character Profile
Alignment
True Neutral
Age
26 at time of death
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Faded Blue
Hair
Long, Blonde Wig
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pasty White
Height
6'
Weight
160 lbs

Adventure 6 -- Travel to Wildcross, Day 2

The group of three took the evening to recuperate from the previous day's encounter. With a day and a half to reach Wildcross, they set off early in the morning.   Leading the group, Cohor confidently forges ahead, the vizier and Talea conversing almost annoyingly. It appears their talking seemed to have driven off any would be predators, as the forest passed by in peace. The came across another area, however, this time much larger, where the canopy grew thicker, the ground squishier, the air heavier, and the branches droopier. They were in a swamp again...   The sounds of life in the swamp quickly became apparent. Up ahead, they saw some bullywugs spearfishing. The bullywugs, however, also noticed them.   The bullywugs approach, hostile. Combat ensues; Cohor manages to crack the leader's shield, but the leader and one of his companions managed to break Cohor's defenses.   Both bullywugs manage to thrust spears into Cohor's armor, which stopped fatal damage. Bonecounter, however, managed to smash the leader's face, collapsing it to the ground. He also managed to strike one of the minion's. It stumbled and then started favoring its side.   The one favoring its side pierced Cohor's armor again, the spear's sharp point causing dull pain. Cohor hit it again in the side, same spot. When it fell to the ground, it didn't get back up again.   Talea disengages and runs away.   Talea sprints away without disengaging.   Skill Challenge: Chase.   Talea fled, running with all she had. She started to outpace the bullywug, found a great place she could hide, and failed to do so. She saw a small ledge, however, that she was able to climb down. The bullywug got to the ledge, leered down at her, then turned and left her alone.   Encounter 1 Talea: She fled, turning it into a successfully escaped chase.   A rat scurried out of a hole in the rocky ledge and snipped its little diseased-filled mouth. Talea squashed it with her quarterstaff, but not before two more wriggled out of the same hole. Soon, she was standing amid three rat corpses... Better than having a frog-creature standing over your corpse, I suppose.   As she tried to still her shaking from the recent fight, she saw a figuring creaking towards her. No time to stop her shaking, it would seem... A skeleton pushed its way through some overhanging branches towards her. It managed to bash hard on her shield, a painful blow, but the power in her staff was able to smash it into the wall. Heart beating even faster, Talea slumped against the rocky ledge and waited to compose herself...   After Cohor defeated this group, he noticed a bullywug had chased down Talea. He healed himself and headed that way. He bid the vizier to follow. His dead heart dropped when he saw the bullywug returning. It croaked sharply, and two dinosaur creatures came to its aid...   It's a mystery how these little frog people were able to curb and train these creatures... But Cohor doesn't have time to ask such questions.   What ensued was a furious bombardment from bullywug javelin and ridged teeth to massive dinosaur tails smashing against Cohor. He called upon Kelemvor for a blessing, which made his attacks more effective against the bullywug. Bonecounter quickly sent the creature into trauma, and he landed some critical blows on the dinosaur's legs, giving him time to land the final strikes where the mattered.   After discovering that Talea was ok, if shaken up, Cohor decided to head towards where he heard lots of swamp noises. He was quickly discovered, however, and the bullywugs weren't friendly. He picked up the first one and threw it at the others in a display of strength and intimidation; the bullywugs scattered. He then tried to find out more about their home; it appears to be a fen of some sort, next to a ledge. The water of the fen seeps into massive opening in the ledge, which he assumed could only be their lair. He didn't see the sinking mud until his first foot sank 10 inches. Thankfully, his instincts kicked in and he knew to lay on his back to prevent the rest of him from sinking, then pull out his foot, though wrenching it free of the hungry earth was much more difficult than he had anticipated.   Talea noticed she wasn't feeling well. She had a ring of bug bites around the back of her neck. The nausea was intense, but she was able to push those intense levels of discomfort aside long enough to search for and identify a plant she could use to nullify the symptoms.   Successful Skill Check: Talea. Not affected by sickness.   They cleared the area containing the bullywug lair and came across an impressive ridge line, barring their way to Wildcross.   Starting Easy Skill Check: Talea. Successful Skill Check: Talea. Found a 'safe' way to the top of the ridgeline.   Starting Easy Skill Check: Cohor. Successful Skill Check: Cohor. Managed to climb his way up. He pushed a little too hard a few times, causing him to slip, but he was able to grab hold of something else. Towards the end, he was too exhausted to pull the vizier up, so he had to persuade the man to complete the final ten feet of the climb without Cohor's aid.   In the distance Cohor and Talea noticed a neat ring of standing stones, overlooking a 100-foot cliff. Curious, they headed that way, cautiously and wary of their surroundings.   Several large ravens were flittering about overhead, which caused Cohor to look up. Had it not been for the snapped twig, he would have missed the cloaked figure approaching him in the darkness, scimitar gleaming reflections of the stars.   The cloaked figure struck at Cohor, the blade of the scimitar clipped into his side once and managed to take a second jab. Kelemvor smiled upon Cohor, instilling him with discomforting brutality. He crushed his mace into the attacker's hip and used his shield to shove it to the ground. Imposing, Cohor stood towering above the humanoid, who's hood had fallen, revealing a scaly, human face. With violent ravens swirling around, diving into Cohor with their violent beaks, the dead man brutally swung his mace down several times on the prone snakeperson. He swung until the creature's strugglings ceased.   The ravens swarmed viciously about him; most of their beaks glanced off his chain mail, however. He smashed two with his shield at once out of the air, crushed another like a baseball homerun and caught the final in a down swing. Talea looked at him, eyes wide. The vizier just as astonished.   They continued on, towards the standing stones. Looks like more of the snake-humans performing some kind of a ritual or worship...   More ravens... Cohor's attempt to get closer to the worshippers quietly had no chance of success. He remembered about his little brazier, however. As the creatures raced towards him in hostility, he placed the brazier on the ground.   And from the tendrils of the smoke that never fades, a fire elemental reared its smoldering head. It looked to Cohor, expectantly.   “Burn them.” Cohor says, pointing in the direction of the cultists.   The Fire Elemental nodded its acknowledgement and roared forward, a torment of vicious flames. It passed through several crows, causing them to fall out of the air in smoldering heaps, then reached one of the yuan-ti and touched it. It ignited in flames and shriveled to the ground.   The remainder of the ravens flew passed the elemental, swarming down on top of Cohor. One scored a beak to his forehead, but squashed some with his shield and batted the rest away with Bonecounter.   The remaining snakeperson skirted around the fire elemental, stopping short in front of Cohor, and doused him with a cloud of poison. Cohor smiled, grateful for being dead, then marched forward and motion for the Elemental to approach their enemy from behind to flank it.   The elemental approached from behind and engulfed the cultist in flames, setting its close ablaze. Cohor slammed Bonecounter into its arm with a wincing crack. It raised its scimitar to deflect his next blow, causing it stagger backwards. Fear filled its eyes as its skin started to stick to its burning clothes. The dead man ended its suffering.   Whilst Cohor was handling his fight, two other yuan-ti broke off to take care of Talea and the vizier.   Both battles didn't last more than 20 seconds. Talea shattered the knee of one with her magical quarterstaff and caught the second in the throat, just as Cohor put the smoldering yuan-ti out of its burning misery.   They snoop around the standing stones and Talea finds a map! (Possible waygate? I really wanna find one of these. May be protected by hostile yuan-ti)   The group presses on, leaving the standing stones behind. Once they break free of the ridge more... swamp. A slow 5 miles; Cohor's fiery friend bids him farewell as his full form quickly sucks up into a small, floating flame and then disappears.   Eventually, they find themselves looking out at a large lake, full of ghostly ships.   Discord Link: Adventure 6 Discord    

Adventure 5 -- Travel to Wildcross, Day 1

Cohor remained, propped up against Talea's shack, eyes opened and unblinking. It was dark out, but warm nonetheless; the moon bright, the air still. He saw the figure of a beast move across the the fort's entrance, which caught his attention. He listened intently, and heard muffled snorts and other activity to the southwest. Where he slew a group of those bandits. He stood and crept towards the open gate, reaching for his blade. Only... It wasn't his blade. No, it was mace. Wrought from a beautiful silver-colored metal, black spindling filigree danced around its metal shaft and the macehead. That unsettled Cohor; no one had entered the fort throughout the day and night, much less touched him and swapped out his weapon on his waist. He pushed the discomfort aside, blaming it on Kelemvor. That's been growing easier to do.   At the fort gate now, Cohor peeked his head around the log post. He found himself filling with dread, as he stared at the haunches of a large badger. Cursing himself for having left the bodies from yesterday morning so accessible, Cohor inched forward and struck at the creature with his new weapon.   The hammer in his hands began to glow a brilliant white, erupting in light as the mace smashed into the badger's side. It turned gnashed at Cohor, who kept it at bay with his shield. Two other badgers rushed over to join their denmate; Cohor steps to place the creatures between him and the palisades. It looks like the other two will close the final distance in a few moments.   The light fades from Cohor's weapon, and he strikes again, catching the badger hard in the snout. It collapsed to the ground, just as two other large badgers arrived, gnashing their razor teeth and bladed claws.   The second badger took a jarring cudgel to its head, preventing it from breaking Cohor's defenses. Its companion, however, managed to slash Cohor's leg. The dead man managed to club the second badger on the head again, this time causing it to slump to the ground.   This third badger was more vicious than the others; it scored another blow as it continued to go low, making it difficult for Cohor to protect his legs. He cracked hard enough with Bonecounter to break the vicious creature's skin. It struck back in a fury, this time leaping in an attempt to shred Cohor in more vital parts.   He caught the beast with his shield and threw it into the fort palisade. He finished the predator off with a few skull blows. Cohor retreated back into the fort where he closed the gate and rested on guard until Talea woke.   The night drifted along unbothered. Just as Cohor began to worry about the length of Talea's rest, she opened the door to her shack.   “Ahhh, she awakes. I was getting worried that you wouldn't.” Cohor says, with his back resting against the palisade by the gate door.   She rubs at her eyes. “Believe it or not, being kidnapped by thugs, escaping them, and getting recaptured and nearly killed is exhausting work.” She stretches and yawns. “So you've saved me...after putting my life back into danger by having me lead you here...my home town is destroyed. What now?”   Cohor smiles, then locks down, scratching at the earth. “Are you religious, Talea?”   She eyes him sideways. “..Yes. Are you, sir?”   “I didn't used to be. But I have been... reborn. My views are changing, and some recent experiences have...” He coughs to continue his excuse for such a raspy voice. “Made it quite difficult to deny the existence and involvement of deity in our affairs. Have you experienced any such thing with...” He gestures questioningly, as if to ask who it was she followed.   “It is good that you're developing a believing heart. I would hope that you can hold onto these new experiences with more than just your eyes. I will not share my experiences, however. They are mine to share when I please.”   Cohor sighs. “Well. I've heard of some city around here. Wildcross? Do you know where that is?”   Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You've never been to Wildcross? It's the only stable place in the entire archipelago.”   “The only... stable place?”   “Why... yes, of course!” She weaves her forearms back and forth like fishes. “You know, the winding, ever-changing roads? What takes you some place one day, leads somewhere else the next.” Disbelief is painted on her face. “You... really don't know? Are you a foreigner or something?”   This is all very concerning. Winding, misleading, changing roads? But he recognized Marxstaff. And the bay. Nothing else, true, and this helps to explain it--but he didn't die very long ago? He certainly didn't remember anything like this in his original lifetime. He grunts. “Yes.” He lies. “A foreigner...”   She arches her eyebrow. This time with condescension in her face.   “What's that look for? Nevermind... So can you take me to Wildcross? I've got some business there, though I'm not quite sure what yet. I have some things to sell. I've picked up some coin in my gallivanting through this maze-world you've described to me. I could pay you well.”   With arms folded she shakes her head. “Take you there? Sure. Join you afterwards? Depends. I can't have you lying to me like you just did, though. If you're not an outsider, then what are you? You can't not be an outsider and not be aware of the shifting roads. So tell me, Cohor. Who are you?”   He takes a deep breath. “The experiences I've mentioned. They've had to with Kelemvor...” Cohor the continues to share some details about his experiences in the last few days.   Cohor manages to weave his tale in such a way that Talea doesn't take it as some dark, twisted quest to return from the dead and murder his brother murderer. Instead, she pities Cohor and is empathetic towards him. She agrees to help him don his makeup to hide his most notable dead features. She expresses that she, herself, now has no where to go, and little financial means to go on, and so, agreed to travel with and join him.   Talea leads them in a direct course to Wildcross the first day, explaining that it may be up to three days before they arrive.   Cohor was growing impressed with Talea's ability to navigate through the forest. They had to traverse around a large, wooden gully. They followed the stream that had formed it for some ways where it ended in a swamp. Despite such difficult terrain, she led them, sure-footed through it.   While they were slomping through the swamp, several creatures burst out of the murky waters, surprising the two.   The star spawn manages to bite Cohor, and one of the Wretched latch on his leg. He fights for consciousness as they quickly overwhelm him. He calls for all of the healing power Kelemvor has to offer. Meanwhile, Talea killed her rat.   Cohor disengages and attempts to climb a tree.   Cohor clambers up the tree towards safety. One of the wretched is still attached to his leg, continuing to gnaw on him. He's climbed some twenty feet, pulls the critter off and hurls it down towards the ground.   Cohor, in a panic, searched around for options.   One of the thick branches of this tree seems to have... a brazier threaded onto it? And it's smoking like it was placed there recently... He retrieves it and (no metagaming here; this is an item he won from one of the one-shot events) lights it. It immediately erupts into flame, and a massive fire elemental is born from its flames. It looks at Cohor expectantly.   Cohor nods towars the creatures at the base of the tree, and the elemental wafts from the air above the brazier to the ground and starts poking the bad creatures.   The Star Spawn drops and rolls to put out the flames.   The Fire Elemental's pokes are from the Nine Hells. Its very touches caused Cohor's attackers to erupt in flame. The Star Spawn, after having put out the first round of flames, was consumed by the ones that followed a second touch. One of the Wretcheds collapsed as the flames charred it's hide. Only the last one remained.   While Cohor rested and the Fire Elemental just... burned there, creating a scorch spot on the mushy ground, Talea ventured ahead trying to get a better sense of where to go.   She identified a path forward, but also found some more rats ahead.   Talea quickly dispatches the rats. One managed to chomp on her finger, but the nasty, filthy creatures couldn't avoid her staff strikes.   Talea returned to Cohor. The fire elemental had vanished. The small brazier still smoking, and the scorch mark where the elemental had been smoldering some.   “That was close... How'd you do that?”   Cohor shrugged. “I do not know. Kelemvor seems to be watching out for me; too much has happened for it to be just chance.”   As they worked their way through the swamp, they noticed a lizardfolk foraging.   The lizardfolk notices the pair. He lets out a harsh hiss, and other hisses respond. A snake falls from a branch above Cohor's head; another is coiled around the lizardfolk's arm.   They all come at him with snapping, dripping fangs. Even the lizardfolk; it doesn't even bother using it's clawed hands.   Cohor smashes the red snake with Bonecounter. The other snake and the lizardfolk, however, both sink their fangs into him.   Cohor smashes the other snake; the lizardfolk snaps at him in fury at the loss of its pets, but Cohor's able to distance himself with his shield. He lands two solid blows on the lizardfolk, a sickening crunch breaking its right arm.   Cohor is beginning to feel fatigued. Only boon about this blasted swamp was the shiny baubles Cohor is confident someone will pay for. But they press on, finally escaping the swamp. Eventually, they stumbled upon a man in the woods, who's roasting a rat on a stick over an open fire.   “Ho there! Are we getting close to Wildcross?”   “Getting close to Wildcross?” He says without looking up from roasting his rat. He's really well-dressed for eating such things. “I suppose so. The roads shift, you know. I've been lost for days. Went out to rendezvous with someone for Lord Burns, and well, I must have ventured to far.”   “You could join us! I'm pretty confident we're getting close. Only a day's journey or two.”   “Mmmm-yes. That could be nice. I don't much like the look of this meal... Do you have any to share?” He picks at it daintily.   “Looks like I've got some dried meat and nuts. Help yourself.” Cohor says, sliding off his pack and searching for the snacks. He realizes he hasn't really eaten in 4 days. And it hasn't really bothered him.   “Much appreciated.” The vizier says. “Oh. I will pay for you getting me home. Its hard to sleep without shelter and warmth, you know.”   Cohor takes the reigns while Talea and the vizier chat and... he manages to get them lost. He could have sworn they were on a road just before...   The sun's beginning to fall. Talea walks straight into Cohor as he stops, confused, in this little clearing. Eerie noises... Then a ghoul and skeleton emerge from the tree line.   The group rests for a bit before pushing further into the night. Eventually, they stop to rest. Talea's watch is disturbed by a single skeleton; it appears they've found themselves in a haunted part of the wood...   She blocked another strike from the skeleton, but this time her staff smashed into its ribcage. Green light flashed and it seemed to melt away whatever was holding the bones together; it clattered to the forest ground in a spray of bones.   Discord Link: Adventure 5 Discord  

Adventure 4 -- Damsel in Distress

Cohor begins to work his way down to the road, pack incredibly heavy on his shoulders. He's moving quite a bit slower than he would like, but coin will be useful, once he can stand in front of a merchant without fear of him calling for guards...so he deals with the added weight of gear and weapons from his recent victims. It seems to have taken some eight hours, about 12 miles, to reach the bridge. His queue to break off the road and follow the river.   Pressing off the road for about an hour longer, the sun starting to rise behind the blanket of heavy-gray clouds, Cohor sets his pack down, behind a tree a few hundred feet away from the river. He pulls our his blanket, munches on some tasteless food, gets some of the leftover bits out of his teeth and cavities with some gulps of water, then settles down to rest.   Sleeping while being dead is interesting. It's needed, but it isn't truly the sleep he experienced when he was alive. He found he was still quite aware of the things happening around him. The rustling of leaves in the wind. The chirping of birds on the warm summer morning. Around noon, only four hours of rest, Cohor found his body rejuvinated and less sluggish to the demands of his brain. He doesn't experience exhaustion like he remembered, either. His body was less alive, more disconnected from feelings of pains and aches. Somehow able to push further, as if the mind game that plagues humans to push their bodies to the extreme was nonexistent. Cohor's body was but a vessel. It had its physical limits, but he didn't appear to be limited by a willpower of someone pushing harder than their mind presumed reasonable.   Cohor saddles his pack and pushes along the river, heading upstream. Looking back westward, Cohor can see the bay, the expanse ocean behind it. He's gained an amount of elevation sufficient to provide such an overlook, his vision encompassing the last two days of travel. He pushes on into evening, and, after just over 5 hours of walking, came across a gully. Getting to the ledge overlooking the gully required a short hike. Once there, Cohor managed to follow the river.   Cohor caught something gleaming against the moonlight in the gully as he traversed its ridge. He stopped and focused in on it. It appeared to be... a bone? Up ahead, the gully slumped a bit, likely from the sloughing of weak earth, which created an easy path back down to the river. Cohor took that route to confirm what he saw. Sure enough, it was a bone. Surrounded by many more. In fact, the entire gully seemed to be littered with them. Curious, Cohor picked one up and examined it.   Scanning the area in the darkness, Cohor will see a burrow--a large one--in the side of the gully wall. Exposed roots from the tree clinging to the ledge above it mostly covering the entrance. He's got a feeling that this might be the home of whatever has feasted on the flesh of these bones. Curiously, but foolishly, he approaches. Before he reaches the burrow entrance, he quietly settles his pack on the ground. Hopefully it isn't nocturnal. He thinks.   Cohor sneaks into the den, surprised to find a badger the size of a bear. Its breathing calmed and steady. He moves to leave...   The badger doesn't appear to stir as Cohor retreats, curiosity satisfied. He collects his pack, and climbs back up to the ridge. With the moon lighting his path, Cohor continues, keeping the river in sight. After another several hours, he's traveled about 15 miles. He looks around, trying to identify a flat, sheltered place to collect a few hours of rest.   “Stupid.” THWACK. “Rotten.” THWACK. “Men!” THWACK. A young woman's voice. Between every angry, forced word was the sound of a stick hitting wood. On the third one, a ripping sound, the fibers of the stick giving way to relentless beats against a nearby tree trunk.   Cohor's eyes shot open, though he remained motionless, snuggled into his blanket beneath a bush. The woman was crying now. The shouts and the thwacking finished.   Cohor thought to himself. “Its still dark out. It has to be what, three in the morning? What in blazes is she doing out in the wilderness at this time of night?”   Curious, again, Cohor found himself rising to his feet. She wasn't very far away. 10 yards or so. Short brown hair, her face cupped in her hands as she sat on her knees, back convulsing from her sobs. Suddenly, and in fury, she snatches the broken stick and hurls it in the air with a scream of frustration. Cohor's eyes widen as it whirls toward him before crashing against his cheek. He let a grunt slip. The girl's eyes go wide--she has a pretty face--and she immediately picks up the other end of the broken stick, holding it threateningly in the air.   “Who are you?” Her voice trembling, though her determination and anger seemed to mask that with firmness.   Wary of his milky eye and grateful for the darkness, Cohor feigns sleepiness and heavy eyelids. He makes an effort at stretching. “I'm just a traveler, trying to rest my eyes before continuing my journey in the morning.” He winces inwardly at the grating rasp in his voice.   She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “How do I know you aren't following me?”   “I... I don't really know how to convince you that I'm not. I wrapped up in my blanket beneath this bush around midnight. Hopped off the road back there at the bridge, and have been following the river. It's supposed to dive into some kind of woods. My destination is there. Nothing to do with you.”   She sighs and seems to release some of the tension in her body. That's a good sign. Though there's something else in her eyes. “Why are you heading to that there?” Fear. What her eyes held secret, her voice betrayed.   “I've it on good authority--” He interrupts himself with a nasty cough, hoping that it might give believable reason for his gravelly voice. “Excuse me... That the Burlap Boys have set up shop there.” He pats his sword at his hip. “And it appears that they've done some things that have warranted my attention.” Cohor pauses. “...And retribution.”   Cohor raises an eyebrow. “You know them?”   She turns her head, looking groundwards. “No.” She lies.   Cohor grunts, disappointed. Then steps out of the bush and leans against the trunk of a tree. “My name is Cohor Pithedaiya. What is yours?”   “Talea.” She says, barely a whisper. Still staring at the ground.   If Cohor's heart could beat, adrenaline would have shocked it into overdrive. Surprise and excitement filled him, as a piece of the puzzle clicked into place.   “Talea... Well, what do you say we crush these bandit baboons? It's clear to me you've encountered them. Maybe you could lead me there, so I have less searching to do. I do think their judgment is coming.”   She raises her eyes to meet his. Her gaze hard. As if it could drill through stone. “I'll lead you there.” Her voice cold as steel.   Cohor smiles. “Good. Then we'll teach those whoresons a lesson they'll never forget. Let me pack up my things. Then we'll have you lead the way.”   Very quickly, Cohor will notice that Talea isn't carrying much. She's less equipped than him, but also much quicker.   “Talea.” Cohor rasps through some coughs. “I've got this mace here. And a chain shirt. It might be a bit big, but it might be useful. Would you like to borrow it?”   She searches him for a moment, noticing that he's struggling to keep up. Then nods. “I suppose a mace might do me a bit more good than... this.” She holds up the other half of the stick. Then she'll approach Cohor. Her gaze pauses a moment when she gets close enough to see his milky eye. Then she tears her eyes away, taking the mace and chain from Cohor's gauntleted hands. She'll equip them, the chain shirt drowns her, but it'll have to do.   The weight relief is immediately noticeable. That shirt was heavy. Cohor and Talea pressed forward. The bone gully finally disappearing behind them.   The summer night was pleasant, warm. The stars twinkled brightly overhead, in between the leaved branches of the trees. Talea wasn't saying much. She seems determined, focused. And she appears to walk with a slight limp. Cohor ponders on how he might ask her how she escaped. Something heavy crashed onto him, knocking him off balance and sending him smashing onto his side. Whatever it was, it was furry, and it was heavy.   The creature, a massive badger, tried to rip at Cohor's face. He was able to keep its powerful jaw at bay, but was ripped up by its claws. A smaller badger also attacked, sinking teeth and claw into Cohor. Darkness creeping into his vision once again, for the third day in a row. He dug deep inside himself and pressed that power within into his chest. The darkness pushed away, clearing from his vision, as he regained strength, energy, and the will to survive.   Cohor manages to shove the giant bear-like badger off of him and ward off their snapping jaws and razor claws. He catches the giant one with the tip of its blade; it yelped in pain, then snarled back a retort.   More vicious snaps and swipes from the badgers were kept at bay. But Cohor's blade struck the stone ground. These moments are precious, his life very much threatened.   The badgers work well together as a team. They're pushing Cohor down the the slight decline, towards the river. It's moving quick here. He doesn't know where Talea is... Did she leave him? Is this how it's going to end?   The bear-sized one stood and leapt at Cohor, gnashing viciously with its teeth. The small toothy blades nearly sheared into his neck, but Cohor caught the creature with his shield and heaved it back. It fell to its side, where Cohor plunged his blade into its neck, ripping it up and free. The giant creature spasmed and fell. The second badger nearly took a bite out of his exposed side; just in time, he whirled his blade around, causing the badger to rethink its strike.   Snarling and desperate, the badger made a leap. Fifty pounds of raging fury careening through the air with the intent to kill. Cohor managed to step aside and swing his blade. The arcing strike caught the beast in the air, cleaving into its underside. It splashed into the water where its body was quickly swept away by the current.   “I should never have peeked into that den...” Cohor says weakly. Feeling strange; he should be breathing heavy, his heart racing. Instead, his body feels dull, cold, and lifeless. He admires the massive badger that lay at his feet. Where the little one was the size of a dog, this... This one could easily have been 300 pounds. “Talea..?” He calls out in the darkness. “Talea!?”   After a few minutes of searching, Talea poked out from behind a tree, eyes wide in terror.   Cohor sighs in relief. “Ah. There you are.” He offers a hand. She takes it, and he hoists her to her feet. “It's alright. The beasts are dead. Are you fit to keep leading me?” She gulps, steels herself, then nods.   They spend the next four hours following the river. They came across another gully, this one, thankfully, was not full of bones, but they still had follow the river on the ridge, which slowed their progress. Not long after, the forest line came into view.   “It's not long now. Only another three hours or so.” The effects of the badger attack seem to be wearing off. “I thought you were dead. I am... I am sorry I did not aid you. The moment it fell on you. The way they clawed into you. I do not know how you survived. I did not think you could have survived. So I ran...”   “Do not worry, Talea.” Cohor says in the kindest voice he can muster. “You're a brave woman. And I am only grateful for your aid.” He'll slide his pack off his shoulders. “If you don't mind, I could use a rest before plunging into the woods.” She nods her agreement.   After a brief rest, Talea whispers. “I think they might be looking for me. Two guards just emerged from the forest.”   Cohor hums to himself. Another comment closer to finding out what happened. Hopefully she drops a few more hints so he doesn't have to find a way to press it out of her. “Let's go.” He pushes towards the bandits, attempting to follow them from behind and get within distance of javelin throw.   When Cohor reached 10 paces from the bandits, he settled down his pack to free up his movement for his javelin. It clanked an irritating clank, and one of the bandits turned, eyes widening as he noticed Cohor. He shouted at his friend. Quickly, one had out a crossbow, the other, a scimitar.   Cohor threw his javelin at the charging man with the sword. He managed to dive out of the way. Cohor then sprinted into the woods, hoping to find some cover against the crossbowman. The scimitar-man sprinted hard, hot on his tail.   A bolt thuds into the trunk of a nearby tree. It's difficult to see the crossbowman. The bandit with the scimitar reaches Cohor. They parry, and Cohor throws his knees into the man's stomach.   Another bolt snips through tree branches overhead. The bandit in front of Cohor brings his blade down in an overhead strike; the recoil as the impact hits Cohor's shield forces him backward. He falls to a knee and uses his sword arm to keep from falling onto his back entirely.   The crossbowman breaks into the forest, launching another arrow. It slips into the forested ground nearby. His companion raises to strike again, but Cohor slams his shield into the man's attack, breaking it, and plunges his longsword into the man's chest. Then, like a man using his knife to remove food from kabob, Cohor presses the man with his shield, ripping him free of his blade. The man stumbles before collapsing on his side. Cohor then closes the distance on the crossbowman who just entered the forest, who, upon seeing Cohor dashing forward, dropped his crossbow and freed his own blade.   A few test swings, testing each other. Then the bandit stumbles on a root. Cohor takes the opportunity and creates a gash on the man's off-arm.   The bandit charges forward, slamming into Cohor's shield. Cohor swipes at the man's thighs, biting deep into his quads. The man screams and collapses to the ground in agony. With a grim face, Cohor ends his suffering.   Cohor finds some coins in their pockets as Talea comes up.   “Do you know their numbers?”   She shakes her head. “No. At least six.” She gives no other information. “Come on.” She says, not missing a beat. Cohor follows.   As Talea said, another three hours of traveling and a shoddy wooden fort came into view. Its early morning now.   “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”   Cohor and Talea turn, Talea a few paces behind Cohor. A big thug of a man and five others somehow snuck up behind them.   “Burlaps, get that little witch. She won't be getting away from us this time.” Before Cohor could act, the five men grabbed Talea, pressing a knife to her throat. “Come any closer, and we'll rip her pretty little throat out.” Cohor froze, anger welling up inside of him. The men other men gagged her, then bound her wrists and ankles with unforgiving twine. Talea winced in pain as the fibers dug into her skin. “Take her back to her cell.” The leader of the group says. “We'll handle this one.”   The men pull out their blades and fan out. They test Cohor's mettle, who tries to strike out at the weakest among them, but retreated when he saw another attempting to strike at the opening it created.   The thug with a club scores a hit on Cohor's wrist. The other two bandits advance, but aren't able to break Cohor's defenses.   “Kelemvor.” Cohor growls. “If ever there's a time I need your aid, now is the time!”   A pillar of light descends through the forest canopy, shining onto Cohor, embracing him; causing him to glow.   The bandits shy away from the light embracing their opponent. Cohor uses this time cut off the club man's arm and kick his knee in. There's a loud crunch as the man crumples to the ground, bleeding heavily.   After downing one of their comrades, Cohor turns to another, but his blow is met with a parry.   The light protecting Cohor radiates brightly. The bandits struggle to find a way to press forward against it. The tip of Cohor's blade slashes across one of the thug's face, opening a cut that will likely scare on his cheek.   The bandits approach; the light continues to be too much for them. They raise their weapons to attack, but are pushed back as they blink away stars that fill their vision.   The leader slashes forward blindly. Cohor steps aside and jabs his blade into the man's side. He growls in pain.   The next fifteen seconds result in blocks and parries, the bandit leader growing more desperate, more enraged by the second.   Finally, the leader breaks through the shield of light, his scimitar clubbing into the chainmail on his right bicep. The move was fatal, though, as it exposed an opening on the bandit's torso. Cohor's blade took that opening, driving into his side, between his ribs, and out broke the skin on his left shoulder. The leader's eyes widened in shock as his body lost its strength. Cohor let the man slide from his blade onto the ground and ran towards the fort, where the other two bandits had taken Talea.   “Heeeeeey, Modjeb! He's kill'd 'em! He's comin' up now! Whaddawe do?” A voice returns, but Cohor isn't able to make it out. The man looking over the six-foot wall who called for Modjeb bends down, picking up a crossbow.   Cohor dashes up to the fort entrance. It's a pretty shabby fort. Garbage is lined up all over. They've got an anvil. A handcart, some barrels from their plunderings. There's a few tents up, and a little shack that was likely their leader's quarters. Modjeb, the man holding Talea, upon seeing Cohor barrel around and into the fort, shoved the bound woman, pushing her into thick, muddy ground. Then he faced Cohor, put his thumbs together, fingers fanned, and a sheet of fire erupted from his fingertips.   The flames sweep through Cohor. Its heat intense, despite Cohor's dampened senses. A bolt plummets into the ground beside him.   Cohor calls on that power within, a prayer to Kelemvor. He focuses inward, despite the burning pain that fanned through his body. He finds peace, warmth, and will to survive.   Modjeb threw a bolt of fire at Cohor, but he caught it with his shield. Another bolt whizzed overhead. Cohor managed to strike the wizard with his blade, but only enough to cause the man to recoil.   A bolt of flames whips passed Cohor's face; a normal bolt zips between the wizard and Cohor, thudding into the shack. Cohor manages to strike the wizard again, but it's a small blow.   A fire bolt zips beneath Cohor's shield, biting painfully into his left quad. The thug on the wall misses with another bolt. And Cohor swipes at the wizard a final time, thrusting his blade in between his robed ribs. Modjeb's eyes grow hazy as he slumps to the ground.   Cohor sprints up to the short wooden wall, hoisting himself up a few feet, onto the wall with the final thug.   The thug retrieves his weapon; the two combatants exchange a few strikes. Cohor blocks with his shield, the thug ducks beneath a bladeswing, Cohor takes another with his shield, the thug parries. The two engage, dancing across the narrow wallwalk.   The thug swings hard; Cohor's shield arm buckles under the force. The man swings again, striking with momentum. Cohor pulls out of his way, and the man's momentum carries him over the edge, inside the fort. He tumbles and slams on his back with huff. He's quickly back on his feet and hoists himself back onto the wall.   Cohor strikes at the man's hands as he clambered up the wall; the man was athletic, however, and his hands danced away from the strike. He threw himself onto the wall and kicked Cohor, sending him crashing hard into the ground.   The thug jumped down, joining Cohor on the earthy ground of the fort. The exchanged a clashing parry.   After taking a slash across his arm, the bandit snarls. “I'm going to rip your innards out. I can feel you weakening, you pesky, little rodent!”   Cohor nearly takes several fatal strikes. The final bandit seemed much more used to the sword than his comrades. Cohor scores the final blow, however, spinning around the man, cutting him behind the knee, the driving his heavy blade between his shoulder blades. He fell, face first, to the cold, hard ground.   Cohor scrambled over to Talea, who was struggling to move in the mud. She was breathing sharply, and quickly. Likely hyperventilating behind the gag. He knelt beside her tore her gag free, and cut at the bindings on her wrist and ankles. Her eyes were wide in panic, and once her hands were free, she threw her arms around him, clutching to him, breathing hard and heavy.   “I've got you. It's alright.” Cohor whispers comfortingly as he picks her up, out of the mud, and carries her to an old, rotted chair. “They're gone. We've killed them. They're gone.”   Cohor scavenges through the camp, searching for a barrel of water.   “Talea. I found some water and a rag. Why don't you clean yourself up, hmm? I can move the chair and water barrel.” She'll nod, still covered in mud. “We'll stay here tonight and talk some more in the morning. Go ahead and take the shack. I'll be out here, standing guard.”   After Cohor got Talea situated in the shack to bathe, clean her clothes, and rest, Cohor propped himself against the wall of her building, staring out the entrance of the fort. He thought about his circumstances. How just three days ago he woke with a start, at the bottom of a bay he traveled to often as a child. Of the fact that he's dead. Called upon to fulfill some vengeance mission by Kelemvor. Directed by some strange, demeaning halfling... Cleansed a town he'd visited a few times of several dark curses. That this woman, this beautiful woman, was captured by bandits. Likely by Kelemvor's design. Or that bloody halfling's. The map he'd received showed an area that he knew well, but the features on the map matched nothing of what he'd known in his youth, aside from the bay and Marxstaff. He thought of the last few hours... Of being attacked by a man-eating badger that had filled an entire gully of bones. That he just terminated the life of seven men, an entire band of bandits, by himself. How he's supposed to use this woman to learn how to make his dead self presentable in front of common folk. How he's supposed to make friends. And use them. All to fulfill Kelemvor's desire for vengeance. For retribution. To kill his own brother. His murderer. These are things that weighed heavily on Cohor'   Cohor's mind as he sat on the ground, leaning against the bandit shack, Talea's temporary home. Morning turned to afternoon. Afternoon to evening. They were disturbed by nothing, but the pleasant sounds of the wood, and shafts of light dancing through the forest canopy.   Discord Link: Adventure 4 Discord

Adventure 3 -- Deactivate the Marxstaff Portal

Cohor slept much more soundly. He had been right, sleeping during the day provided much more warmth than sleeping in the night. He even threw open the shuttered window in the inn's room to let the warm sunlight spill in. Shame he still requires sleep. He got out of bed, stepping over the dead dwarf he pulled from the bed two nights prior, and looked at himself in the washbasin mirror. He was a horrid sight; no wonder the paladin of Tyr and looters attacked him on sight, assuming he was the cause of Marxstaff's Curse. The skin on his face was thin, seemingly fragile like wet paper. The right side of his upper lip was torn, like a river stemming from his cheekbone, the canyon it formed in his skin slowly widening until it emptied into his mouth. How am I supposed to cover that with makeup? He thought. His right eye was another problem, his iris was gone, covered with a murky white film. His long, ratted, twisted white hair... the fatal scar line on his neck, the missing skin around his ankle, covered by his boot. He thought again. At least my ankle will be easy to conceal. He used the pitcher to fill the basin and washed his face with a discarded towel. The effects of the sea on his skin caused it to stretch, as if the salt from the water stripped it of all color and nutrients.   He fumbles through his pack, pulling out the blonde wig and makeup box the Halfling had given him atop Carris Hill. He used some scissors he had found to cut his hair, and put on the long, blonde wig. Wow. That did a number. Then looked to the box of makeup. But I have no idea how to do that... I might have to find someone who values coin above fear to train me... He opens the container and attempts to mask his pale, dead facial features.   The dead man raised his eyebrows at himself in the mirror. He does look noticeably less dead. His cheeks hold some color. His lips not pruny and white. His golden hair stealing some attention from his milky eye. He throws on his chain shirt, shoulders his pack, which has grown incredibly heavy, and heads for hamlet's water well.   He arrives. A feeling of darkness emanating from the well's dark maw. He checks the rope and pulley system used to haul out water.   Deciding that it should be able to hold his weight, Cohor reeled the bucket up with the well's crank. He removed the bucket, tied his heavy pack to the rope, and lowered it. Once he was confident that it had reached the bottom, he engaged the crank's locking mechanism and worked his way down the rope.   Some of his instinctive athleticism kicks in; his hands grip the rope hard, holding his weight, and he's able to gradually descend into the darkness. Soon, he splashes into the water at the bottom of the well, sinking to his waist. He unties his pack, holding it over his head, and wades in the darkness.   He finds a spot some 40 feet away where the ground appears to rise out of the water. As he pushes forward, something grabs around his knee.   That something appeared to be a meaty, clawed hand. Before it collapsed, like a snapping maw, Cohor was able to pull his leg away. Then the underwater creature stood. A great, ugly thing. A smell burned his nostrils, though din, like most of his other senses. It gnashed forward at Cohor with its toothy mouth, spittle spraying through the air.   Cohor slips out of the way of the fiend's bite, his pack splashing in the deep water. Something fell from the ceiling, onto his shoulder, about the size of an arm. A human head with violent eyes where it's rounded insect, wormy-head should have been. The larva creature sent shivers down Cohor's spine, more so than the bear-like creature in front of him. He shook the man-larva off his shoulder, equipping his sword and shield, then lunges towards dretch.   His blade bites into the dretch's arm, drawing thick gray blood. The creature roars in anger, swiping at Cohor, who ducks underneath the club. Another mouthful of teeth snap at him, but Cohor catches its face with his shield. The man-worm swam through the water like a snake, trying to bite at his Cohor's waist. With sharp teeth. Damn thing of nightmares. Cohor growls in his mind.   The dretch slaps Cohor's next attack away effortlessly, roaring and swiping with its wounded arm. Cohor sidesteps the strike, placing himself out of immediate harm of another sharp-toothed bite. The worm-man sunk his teeth around of the metal links, pulling at it like a dog fighting for a toy.   The grip of Cohor’s sword is growing slippery and wet, making it difficult to handle the sword properly. He misses again. And then a great stench wafts from the bear-creature, filling the area with a brown, fog-like cloud. The larva man makes strange noises, as if gagging. Cohor lashes out again, before retreating away from the thick, pungent air.   The dretch sprints at Cohor through the water. An interesting sight. It vaults itself forward with its massive arms more than moving with its little legs. Water splashes everywhere. It catches Cohor, it's cloud settling over Cohor once again.   The larva-man uses its action to catch up to Cohor.   The pungent smell returns to Cohor's nostrils. It appears to be following this creature. Cohor's blade finally purchases the monster's stomach. This, unfortunately, sent it into a crushing rage. It bit his arm, sending a dull, crushing pain to his brain. Cohor was able to swing his shield around, taking a solid clubbing from its claw. The worm man again bites at Cohor's boot, tugging like a small, terribly ugly puppy.   After the dretch's onslaught, Cohor presses forward. It raises a hand to slap away his blade, but Cohor separates it from its wrist. It lets out a howl of pain, which is cut short as the blade again enters its stomach, this time deep. Cohor twists hard and slicing up. The intense amount of organ damage caused the bear-like creature to collapse almost immediately. The worm man continued to tug. It cleverly avoided the point of Cohor's longsword, quick for such a strange creature.   As it tugged on his left boot, Cohor stepped on it with his right. It tried to squirm away. The blade lopped it in half, worm and worm-human-head parts writhing on the ground until it died. Grumbling, Cohor waded back into the water to get his now drenched, thankfully buoyant pack, heading to the other side of the well cavern.   After a brief rest, Cohor picked up his pack. He noticed an opening over by the dead dretch while he was resting, but decided to wait for that brown fog to dissipate. He could tell it was trying to affect him in some way, and he didn't want to find out what would have happened had it succeeded.   He slowly crept towards the passageway and peered down it. The cavern extended some 60 feet, a green, pulsing light bathing the southern wall, hinting at an opening on the northern wall.   Two lumbering figures shambled about between that northern cavern and Cohor.   Cohor pulled back once he saw the creatures, took a deep breath, pulled out a javelin, spun into the corridor and hurled his weapon. The javelin cut through the air and stuck into the creature's shoulder, causing it to release a surprised snarl. Cohor unsheathed his blade, running to finish off the javelined beast.   The blade whooshes in a side arc, lopping off the first creature's arm before biting deep into it's side. It puffed into a cloud of reeking vapor. It burned his eyes. That led to an opening for the other fiend, which clubbed Cohor's chest, throwing him against the wall. It took a blow from Cohor's blade, retaliating again in rage.   Catching the second strike with his shield, Cohor riposted with a jab, pushing his blade deep into its chest. Transforming into the same noxious cloud, leaving behind no remains.   This new life is so strange... Cohor thinks, as he realizes that he isn't winded, not even breathing hard. He collects his javelin from the floor and his pack (which he had shirked before this whole passage escapade) from the well room, then walked the remaining 40 feet. Again, he peeked around the opening to see if he could locate anything inside.   As Cohor peeked around the corner, his eyes locked with one of four giant beetles, each with an abdomen glowing.   The beetles rush him. One manages to sink its mandibles into his thigh. He responds by using his hand to call upon his well of divine energy.   The creatures snap at him viciously, but Cohor's blade wards most of them off. They have him pushed up against a wall. One makes a snap, which Cohor steps away from, giving an opening to drive his blade, point first, into its strange head. It quivers then dies.   The remaining three press hard. Another scores a crunching snap on his leg. His blade slides along the hard exoskeleton of the one he tried to kill.   Another sickening crunch as another beetle finds purchase. Cohor is feeling the darkness encroach on the borders of his vision. He reaches out to Kelemvor in his thoughts. Don't let me go this way... A thought of approval in return, and Cohor feels the power inside him grow.   Cohor casts Cure Wounds! (1/2 spell slots remaining)   Another onslaught of snapping mandibles. Another useless blade strike.   One of the beetles leapt towards Cohor, its mandibles snapping dangerously close to his neck. He was able to push it off with his shield, causing it to fall atop another beetle who was charging for an opening. Thankfully, the one he had thrown off him tumbled on its back, exposing its soft underside. Cohor ended its vicious little life.   The injured beetle turns to run, likely due to its wounds and the death of its mates.   Attack of Opportunity.   Cohor finds hope as he battles the single remaining bug. The other, thankfully, is skittering away as fast as it can.   After a vicious minute of intensity and snapping, bladelike mandibles, Cohor drove his blade through the third beetle. Bathed in green light humming from their abdomens, Cohor slides his back against the passage wall, uncomfortable with the thoughts of being torn to bits by beetles racing through his head.   Some moments later, Cohor shook himself out of his dead, motionless stare. He had been entranced by the swirling green light given off by the beetles' abdomen. He pushed himself onto his feet with a wince, shouldered his pack with a bigger one, and pushed himself down the corridor where the final beetle had retreated.   This passage is long, running at a steady decline. Cohor keeps his eyes peeled, but there's no green light in sight. No more scissor-like mouths trying to sever his leg. He shakes his head at the thought and presses on. Eventually, another light paints a cavern wall, this time violet. The tunnel reaches over 10 feet tall in places; maybe that beetle retreated into some burrowed hole somewhere? Cohor dropped his pack and crept closer to the violet light, javelin ready.   The dead paladin comes up to the hole in the passage wall producing the violet light. As he turns his gaze into the next room, he sees another one of those bear-like creatures, accompanied by one of the types of monsters that turn to smoke when they die. In the center of this circular chamber appears to be a portal of some kind, its surface a mixture of liquid and gas, churning in various hues of violet and purple. Cohor steps into the violet light and hurls his javelin at the bear-thing, then turns and runs back up the corridor, hoping to find a rock to hide behind.   Scrambling up the corridor, Cohor pulls out another javelin and hides behind a rock.   The two fiendthings bellow in rage and come barreling out of the circular cavern. They're looking right at Cohor as he peeks above his rock. He curses. He still has time, however. They're still 20 feet or so away.   Cohor's second javelin misses. He scrambles further up the passage, keeping his distance from the monsters, pulling a second javelin from case at his side.   The second javelin catches the dretch in the chest, and it bleats out in pain. Cohor makes one final push up the corridor, nearing the entrance where he fought the beetles, green light pulsing in the distance.   Cohor knew they were gaining on him. He could hear their panting breath and thudding foot/hand falls as they raced toward him on all fours. He pulled out his longsword as he ran, listening, feeling for the right moment. Then, he planted hard, turning, anchoring his blade against his chest as he crouched. The dretch's full moment met the sharp point of Cohor's sword. Its flesh sinking the blade's full length, down to the crossguard. With a heave, Cohor ripped the blade free and shoved the creature off of him, relieved it made no movements stand.   The other creature hacked at Cohor with its talons, but the dead man, in his glorious golden wig, was able to drop below the strike and hack off its leg (which disappeared into a cloud of smoke). As it fell, Cohor punctured its chest, and it erupted in rancid smoke.   Hesitantly approaching the dretch, Cohor looked for any signs of life. He removed its head, just to be sure, before recovering his two javelins pincushioning it. Several moments of searching later, he recovered his third javelin, then dove into the cavern with the violet portal. Inside, he found several maimed corpses. Rusted, old gear and coins betrayed their identity as adventurers who appear to have found this place some time ago.   The portal was about 7 feet in diameter, semicircling out of the ground. Its frame appeared to be chipped out of obsidian, with several gemstones, all violet (like the amethyst on the effigy above town) pulsing with dim light. Cohor used the tip of a javelin to pry out the gems. When he did, something odd happened. The gemstone light gathered more light, becoming more intense, while the portal's light dampened. When he removed the fourth and final gem, the portal winked out of existence. Cohor shoved the gems into his pockets, along with masterless coins, and returned to his pack. He worked his way back to the well room, tied his pack to the rope, and climbed up. It's nighttime. He thanked the stars he wasn't sleeping uncomfortable and cold right now. He then cranked his pack out of the well.   “Gotcha.” A dagger presses up to Cohor's back and he clenches his jaw. He tries to inch his hand towards his sword, sheathed on his hip. The person clicks his tongue. “Uh, uh, uh. Hands up, you delightful dead fool.”   It dawns on him. The degrading halfling from Carris Hill. He relaxes, but keeps his hands up. “I've done what you requested. I've purged Marxstaff of its curses. The effigy wasn't the only thing wrecking havoc in this poor town.”   “So you have! Shame. I didn't think you would make it. I don't like being wrong.” The dagger eases off Cohor's back. Cohor snarls and whips around, trying to grab at the little man. He turns and... he's not there.   A voice comes from behind. His voice. “Now, now. Let's play nice. I'm not here to kill you. Just to ridicule you.” Cohor turns. The halfling his leaning, arms folded, atop the well cobbled wall against the beam supporting the little roof. His hood is up; only his mouth is visible in the darkness. “And...” He holds up a finger, when anger starts to boil onto Cohor's face. The anger pauses a moment. “You have done very well. I do believe that Marxstaff shall be safe, so long as you don't return those little gems back into their devious home. You don't want to go back there. Not alone, at least. Demons and devils, fiends abound!” He laughs. “But nonetheless! Your next goal. Before you can be dubbed kingslayer, you must grow in power. One of the quickest ways to do that, my dear dead friend, is through ties with others. And in order to build ties with others, you need to not appear...” He gestures at Cohor. At all of him. “...dead. Your wig is quite marvelous, by the way.” He adds, offhandedly.   “I tried.” Cohor rasps. “I do not know how to use these items of paste and color! Much less how to restore a dead man's face with them.”   “I know, dear deadface. I knnoooowww! What you need is a woman's touch. A little bit of tenderness and grace.” He sways back and forth as if he were a school girl, swaying with the hems of her skirt pinched between his fingers.   Cohor looks at him flatly. “And how am I supposed to find a woman that doesn't shriek the moment she sees me? And these items don't belong to commonfolk. Merchant-wives are likely the lowest in the caste to have skills with such things. Hmm?” His eyebrow raised, a fierce, milky-eyed look.   He scowls. Cutting his part of acting a little girl short, as if Cohor squashed all of his fun. “You save one, idiot. Talea Savannah. Daughter to the great storyteller, Andwin Savannah. The Burlap Boys kidnapped her this morning. Here's a map.” A puff, and the rolled-up map appears out of thin air, falling into Cohor's hand. He looks at it.   “This morning?! How would you--” Cohor looks up. The halfling was gone. “Burn you, how did you know?!”   Cohor unrolls the map. Everything is unfamiliar except for the bay and Marxstaff. Strange... A dashed line runs to the east, following a river into a forest, where the destination is marked with an X. Something popped, a pouch of coins fell out of thin air and clinked onto the ground.   Discord Link: Adventure_3_Discord

Adventure 2 -- I'm a Monster

Cohor tried to make himself comfortable in one of the beds at the patronless Sea Kettle Inn in Markstaff. His body didn't exactly create heat, so even layering on blankets did little to bring much warmth and comfort. He didn't sleep very well; still terribly new to this life-after-death situation he's found himself in. Before the sun rose, however, he awoke with a start. To the blood curdling scream of a woman. Seemingly, within Markstaff.   Cohor moves lethargically, despite the urgency and peril of the situation of the women who let forth a cry for help. Slipping on his boots, which covers his bare-boned left ankle, and dawning a heavy shirt of chainmail. He picks up his back, sword, and shield, and steps over the corpse he had to remove from the bed last night. Then he worked his way out of the inn.   Entering the village green, Cohor peered around for any sign of the scream.   Seeing nothing, Cohor will scratch at his cheek in puzzlement. Eventually it occurred to his sluggish brain that whatever caused the scream likely won't be coming out to meet him. So, he might as well investigate the homes. The other buildings in close proximity to the inn are stables (empty, Cohor checked those last night), a small temple to Lathander, as signified by the sigil of a road traveling into the sunrise next to the two cobblestone steps leading to its heavy wooden doors.   The temple is the only fully stone structure in Markstaff. And when Cohor attempted to open its thickset doors, they didn't budge. The iron doorknob resisted any attempts to turn it. Locked tight. So the dead man turned and approached what appeared to be the town hall. A horse tied to a hitching post outside. Odd. How had he missed that before? My senses sure are awfully dull... He thought to himself. Shrugging off his frustration, he made an attempt to sneak into the building.   Pushing open the door, a dull, faraway pungent smell caught in his nose. Enough to bother even his senses. This first room was nothing more than overly decorated entryway. A hallway continued to the left, at its end on the right, a doorway. He clumslily clipped a vase atop a decorative table with his pack. The vase toppled and shattered in a painfully loud crash on the stone floor. Cohor winced...   “Did you hear tha'?” A thick voice from within the next room. “No, you tawn, I didin!” Heavy sarcasm in a different voice. “O'course I did! Let's go check i' ou'.” Two scraggly, pitiful men with clubs round the corner. Their faces flush when they meet Cohor's pale, dead face. Both sides hesitate. “Another walker from the dead! Smash 'is face, c'mon, Laird!”   The first few moments are chaotic and flurried. The looters throwing their clubs at Cohor with some teamwork. This led to a solid blow striking Cohor's sword-side. Anger flashed in his eyes, however, and he broke through one of their defenses, plunging the tip of his sword into his stomach. The other looter looked in horror as his friend slumped next to the wall, slowly sliding down until he rested on the floor with the wall supporting his back.   The looter's terror turns to rage as he slams his club down onto Cohor's shield multiple times, cracking his defense and strike another sickening blow onto the dead man's shoulder. In a raspy grunt, Cohor swung his blade in a side-arc, slicing across the looter's stomach. He immediately collapsed to the ground. His attempts to push himself back up quickly ceased.   Walking into the room where the looters had been determines the source of the pungent smell. Corpses. Looks like these looters had been going through these peoples' pockets for loose change. Cohor tries to identify what may caused their deaths.   8 dead. 10 including the looters. It took Cohor a moment to identify any wounds. There was no blood, after all. Eventually, however, he identified claw marks on their necks. As if they had been choked. By the looks of it, these people had holed up in this building, likely when strange things started to happen. There were a bunch of packs, supplies, and sleeping pads lying about. Furniture had been piled against the entryway from which Cohor just came, but it appears the looters, or whatever killed these people, managed to take down the barricade.   As Cohor was inspecting the corpses, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Something fell to the ground from one of the windows... a section of the glass had been broken. A severed hand, no, TWO severed hands were skittering on the ground, like spiders, dragging a section of forearm on the ground behind.   Both claws somehow leapt from the ground like a jumping spider, attempting to find purchase on Cohor. He managed to shove them back with his shield, but fails an attempt to skewer one of the hands...   One of the hands recovered too quickly, faster than Cohor thought possible, and leapt onto his face, digging its sharp fingers into his face. Staggering backwards, however, Cohor refuses to give into the darkness threatening to consume his vision.   Cohor uses a reaction to trigger Unnatural Vitality.   Cohor calls once again on the power deep inside him. A dim warmth spreads within as he places his hand on his chest. The hand leaps from his face, as if burned. Cohor, reinvigorated, grabs his sword and assumes a defensive stance.   Cohor casts Lay on Hands! Consuming his entire well of power.   The demon hand that clawed at Cohor’s face finds unprotected skin on his arm, its nails biting deep before Cohor throws it off and spears the other hand.   The vicious hand leaps into the air again, but this time Cohor catches it in the air with his blade, cleaving the hand into two. It fell to the ground, twitching, and falling motionless at last.   Battered, the dead man slumps against the wall. Mirroring the looter he slew a few minutes ago. He fits right in with the other corpses populating the building. At least now he knows the likely source of these people’s death. Those wicked, animated hands. So it’s unlikely that the effigy was the only source of a curse in this poor hamlet. Cohor takes a short rest!   After a brief rest, Cohor remembers the scream. Though there’s little help for the woman, now. He rises and exits the building. The horse at the hitching post is dead. Of course... He thought. Claw marks marred its palomino hide. There must be more of these festering, boil covered hands around... He continues to another building, its door hanging off to the side, only attached at one hinge.   Peeking inside, Cohor sees two clawed hands, each with their ulna and radius sticking out past the wrist bone, playing a thumb war.   Unfortunately, they notice his presence before he’s able to sneak away.   The hands scramble hungrily towards Cohor, trying to climb up his leg, but he shakes them off, stepping on one and impaling it.   The remaining hand deftly dances around Cohor’s impaling attempts, though its own efforts to claw at the dead man were futile, unable to purchase on the cool ringed steel protecting his thigh.   The gray hand leaps again at Cohor, but it takes a slam from his shield, the recoil smashing it into the wall. Its animated link seems to shudder before it falls lifeless.   Cohor nonchalantly moves through the single room building, opening drawers, checking under the bed, inside of a pot...   And he finds nothing. Besides the two dead hands. And the pot. Oh wait! Umm, no. No, that’s definitely his sword. Though he thought he found another sword. He was quite disappointed when he looked at his sheath and found it empty. Because the sword he ‘found’ was his own. Right? Riiiight.   Cohor stepped out of the shack type house, spotting a tall hooded figure coming up the road, both hands holding up the hem of its robe as it hurried up the hill road.   Curious, Cohor waits. It looked like the figure was going to continue on towards the meeting building filled with corpses, but then the cloaked figure abruptly turned straight for the building Cohor was in. Their eyes meet. And then, the figure flees. Cohor takes after him. Begin Chase Scene.   Cohor shrugs off his pack and javelins and sprints after the cloaked figure.   Cohor sprinted off after the robed figure, pushing hard down the hill. The cultist was quick, however, and rapidly put distance between it and Cohor. After a snappy 40 seconds, Cohor lost sight of the man. Sighing, he returned to the hamlet.   “Hault!” A firm voice called out after Cohor. He froze and turned. A man stood on the road, some 30 feet away. He wore a gleaming gold and white tabard, marked with the emblem of Tyr. A hefty mace in his hands.   “What is it you want, holy man?” His voice like shifting gravel.   The paladin approaches as he begins speaking. “I'm here to cleanse this place of whatever foul dark magic that taints...” He trails off, as he catches Cohor's appearance. “By Tyr's Hand. I will burn you!”   “No!” Cohor's raspy voice pleads. “Stand down! I'm here to do as you are!”   The man scoffs. “Darkness does not cast out darkness, you vile creature. Light and justice will prevail.” He falls into a battle stance, mace at the ready.   Cohor growls. “So be it.” He pushes forward, striking with his sword.   Cohor's blade connects with the paladin's chain shirt on his side. It appears to have broken the skin; the impact of the blow causing him to stagger to the side. Out of fierce determination, the paladin wheels about, swinging his mace in two hands, like a bat.   The paladin's swing strikes Cohor's shield, the jolt traveling through the dead man's body. His own strike slowed, and the paladin twisted away from the strike.   The paladin swung at Cohor again, a two handed side swipe. The dead man's response was snappier this time, as he managed to duck under the blow. He used the position to push up hard with his feet, slamming his blade into the exposed area under the paladin's arm as he twisted with his arcing mace swing. The blade purchased, sliding in deep. When Cohor tore the blade free, the paladin collapsed, his last few breaths were a struggle.   Cohor removed the paladin's tabard of Tyr and discarded it to the side. He pulled off the chain shirt and took the mace, intending to place it in his pack and pawn it off somewhere else. Then he searched through the slain man's pockets, finding three electrum pieces and a pouch containing five gold coins. He found a letter, too. Which read... We have not received any dealings or communications from Marxstaff. A few men have been sent to investigate. Several haven't returned. The ones who have report strange, eerie things happening. Violent men with violet eyes stand guard. Even the animals strike out. The most concerning of all, however, have been the animated appendages. One report that gray, boiled hand fell from a tree and attempted to strangle one of our scouts. Be watchful. May Tyr's Hand protect you.   A presence made itself known to Cohor, pulling at his mind. He picked up the chain shirt, sheathed his blade, and carried the mace, following the direction of the mental tug in his mind. It pointed to his pack he had left in one of the buildings. He opened his pack, and the source of the tugging appeared to be a reliquary. Opening the box like device up, he felt a strange connection establish. Without understanding what it was he was doing, he simply willed it to activate. His vision was flooded with a golden filter. No amount of blinking drove it away. But then... he noticed something. Red smoke boiling out of the village's water well. He walked over, peering into its depths. Despite his golden vision, however, he could not pierce the darkness contained in that shaft. A feeling of darkness wafted the red smoke, however. Something Cohor thought, for tomorrow. Maybe I'll have better comfort sleeping during the day? He mused. Hoping that the warmth of the sun may provide some bit of pleasurable comfort to the sheets of his temporary bed.   Discord Link: Adventure_2_Discord

Adventure 1 -- Awakened

Adventure 1 -- Awakened   Cohor gasps with a start, water rushing to fill his lungs. He flails his arms about, long, swaying weeds threatening to strangle him. A fit of coughing to expulse the salty water. As he strokes his arms down to swim upward, there's a sharp pain in his ankle. A ball and chain. His foot is twisted and ruined, his toes facing the opposite direction... the flesh around his ankle has worn through to the bone. Trying (and mostly failing) to remain calm, the dead man realizes the decayed flesh can slide easily out of the binding to the chain, if taken at the right angle.   He does so, but his frantic, jerkish movements caused further damage to his already hopeless ankle and foot. His lungs start to ache. He strokes hard, pushing himself up... and up... and up... Finally, he breaks the surface. A cool, quiet night. He's in a bay, waves lazily washing onto the beautiful sandy beach.   Cohor side-strokes to the strip of beach, left foot awkwardly dragging behind him.   The swim is uneventful. Upon reaching shallow waters, Cohor braces himself for the pain of hobbling on his disfigured foot. With a sharp breath, he puts weight on it and -- a dull, slight pain. As if distant. 'Odd...' He thinks to himself. If anything, hobbling on a backwards foot was challenging balancing- and gait-wise. Shrugging, the dead man worked his way onto the shore.   Despite the darkness, he immediately recognizes it as Dartris Bay. A remote area his uncle often took Cohor and his brothers to when they were in their teenage years. It was an 8-hour hike, though they usually had brought horses. They'd commonly spend up to a week here, while their father was off governing his people. Instinctively, Cohor hobbled his way up to the place where they'd always camped on their visits. Though it doesn't look like anyone has used this site for years... But what was that on the stump he'd so often used as a chair around the firepit? He moved closer. A scroll.   "Cohor." It reads. "A mile to the north you'll find some equipment you need. Afterwards, summit the nearby hill where an agent awaits you. You have been wrongfully murdered. I have made it my quarry to deal with your murderer. It shall be sweet irony when he is slain... by the first he murdered. And then he shall be mine. Make haste." An upright skeletal arm holding balanced scales was etched into the papyrus, as if in signature.   Cohor immediately recognizes the symbol as that of Kelemvor, the god of the dead. Surprise washes over him. He's dead? Well. That would make the last 5 minutes of his existence make sense. His foot, the bare-boned ankle, having awoken at the bottom of the bay, the dull, distant pain as he walked. Lack of feeling the cool crisp air, despite being thoroughly soaked himself. With that information in mind, Cohor, whilst sitting, grabs his foot and jerks it 180 degrees back to its natural, forward position. Loud snaps and pops and dull pain, but not enough to even cause a clenched jaw.   He looks north, identifying a ridge about a mile away. He heads that way, walking much more fluidly now, and the scroll vanishes into tendrils of darkness.   The night is silent as he walks among the coastal trees. After 20-minutes, he's covered the ground to the ridge. A 30-foot cliff he and his brothers used to scale when they were young and reckless. At the bottom, something glimmers in the moonlight. A coin! The words "The Iron Coin" stamped along its perimeter. Unbeknownst to Cohor, it binds to his soul. He simply places it in his pocket.   He starts to work his way west along the ridge, a place that made for easily juvenile rockclimbing. Before reaching it, however, he stumbled upon the corpse of man in glittering armor. He looks to have taken a fatal fall from the ridge... His head swollen and distorted. Assuming this is what was meant by the equipment mentioned in the scroll from Kelemvor, Cohor removed the armor, the Priest's Pack, the sword, shield, and javelins, and equipped them himself.   His next destination, the top of Carris Hill. He followed the ridgeline west, finding the familiar place where he first learned to rock climb, and began to scale the 30-foot cliff.   The climbing proves difficult with all of this additional gear. He manages to reach the top, however, despite a couple of heart-racing slips. Heart weakly thumping, the dead man continues his journey towards the hilltop.   A rock strikes Cohor in the back as he’s walking in the dark, forested area. Another thumps into the dirt by his feet. He turns and sees some creatures scampering down the trees.   The creatures come up in a flurry, swinging their arms and gnashing their teeth. Baboons... Cohor is able to withstand their initial flurry, bringing his shield up to prevent them from getting too close.   After one of the baboons snuck around his shield and scored a bite on Cohor’s forearm, sending a dull pain through his arm, he rips out his sword, swinging it at the baboon that hit him.   The baboon dances out of the way of the blade, and they both rush Cohor at the same time. This time, they don’t break around his shield.   Both baboons leap over Cohor's defenses, landing on his shoulders. They start to bite and tear at his neck, causing Cohor to stumble to his knees.   Cohor uses a reaction to trigger Unnatural Vitality.   A voice comes to Cohor's mind. "Reach inside yourself, Cohor. Into your soul. Draw on the well of power bestowed upon you." As the baboons descend upon his neck, darkness cloaking his vision, Cohor reaches for the voice, searching for its meaning. Eventually, he feels a power within him that he didn't know was there. He dropped his sword, using his free hand to push this power into his leg. Life welled back into him. He threw off the baboons, managing to pick up his sword and prepare for another onslaught.   Cohor cast Lay on Hands!   The baboons, surprised and frazzled at the sudden display of heroism, were unable to break Cohor's defenses. One of them ran itself straight into Cohor's blade.   Cohor's newly acquired sword catches the baboon in the side. The creature's eyes go wide in fear before rolling into the back of its head and falling lifeless to the ground. Lethargically, Cohor sheaths his blade and continues forward, determined to reach the hilltop.   Another two hours pass and Cohor reaches the top of the hill. He stands around for a minute, in the moonlight, searching for the agent mentioned by the scroll.   "You sniveling, weakly, walking corpse!" A high pitch comes from behind him. He turns -- and finds a blade pressed close to his navel, along with a short, hooded man. "So stupid! So unaware! And you are supposed to kill a king?" The halflfing lets out a mocking laugh. "You, who was nearly baboon poo? Hah! You. Who walked into my blade. Pathetic..." He clicks his tongue and flicks his blade back up his sleeve.   "King?" Cohor asks, concerned.   "Yes, King! Your brother, fool. King of a lost land. He killed you, you know. Jealous of your birthright, he was. Cut your throat, had you stolen away and dropped into the ocean. Now you're supposed to kill him, so Kelemvor says, though you'll likely kill yourself a second time before you reach the next town. Assuming the town doesn't kill your sorry, rotten hide!" Before Cohor could speak, while his eyes were widening at this revelation, the Halfling continued. "Marxstaff has been cursed. An evil effigy constructed in the center of town, guarded by the creatures it has maddened. Resulted in a massacre, it did. While most people slept. Kelemvor doesn't like this. Unnatural and unjust death isn't his way. You're to stop this before you're trusted with further powers." He turns as if to go, but stops suddenly and whips around. "Oh! And here's this!" He tosses a blonde, long wig and box to Cohor, "Wear this! And pamper your rotting face. Use a cloak to cover that neck scar, too. You're no good to us if you're mistaken as a zombie and killed." With that, he takes a few steps into the darkness and disappears.   Markstaff is 9 miles to the northeast.   Cohor pushes on, northeast, towards one of the towns he stopped at as a child. It was a common stop while they traveled to the bay.   4 hours pass. He found the familiar road that lead to the small hamlet. It came into view, sitting atop a rocky outcropping above wooded hills. An eerie violet light seemed to pulse from the courtyard of the largest building, a structure of wood, stone, and thatch.   Violet eyed ravens swoop down from the trees, letting out a mimicked shrill shriek. Cohor pulls out his sword and shield...   As one of the ravens swoop in like an arrow, Cohor manages to slam his shield into it, dropping it to the ground, where he sticks it’s blade through its avian body.   Cohor dives out of the way of a screaming raven. Which in turn brushes out of the way of his blade.   Cohor blocks another diving beak attack with his sword, cutting the bird in two.   Cohor progresses to the town when he spots off on the distance...   Two thralls. Men standing with clubs hanging loosely in their hands, standing at the entrance of the hamlet.   The thralls’ attention snaps immediately to Cohor as he approaches. They rush, clubs waving in the air.   Cohor side steps a swing, then uses the man’s momentum to drive his abdomen into his blade. His eyes go wide in shock before falling to his knees. Cohor uses his foot to push the man backwards off his blade.   The other thrall manages to strike Cohor’s shoulder, who is unable to respond with a quick enough strike to catch the the thrall like his companion.   The thrall strikes again. Cohor takes a wooden shaft to the side of the head...as the man brings his club about again, Cohor turns and swipes his sword up, cleaving the thrall’s club arm from his body. He finishes him with a blade to the stomach.   Feeling a dull ache all throughout his body, Cohor retreats down the road a quarter mile and finds an adequate place to rest for a moment.   Cohor takes a short rest!   After an hour rest of sitting against the trunk of tree, Cohor felt the throb from his wounds fade. He forced himself to his feet, and continued to the hamlet. He found the effigy in the town’s green. An ugly thing, crafted out of twisted sticks and animal bones. A single violet gem resting in the eye socket of a deer skull bathing the green and surrounding buildings in purple light.   “No!” A voice hisses as Cohor cuts the effigy down. He turns, and sees a silhouette move from the window overlooking the village green. Plucking the violet crystal from the effigy and sticking it in his pack, which he settles on the ground. Cohor preps for whatever is about to exit the building.   A man in a bone mask comes out of the building, waving a scimitar above his head.   The man barrels into Cohor’s shield, who then shoved the man to his rear, and drove his blade through his heart.   Discord Link: Adventure 1 Discord
submit to reddit
Article template
Character
World
New World - Dragonsmoke Archipelago
Category
Adventurers in Characters
Author
Glynyon
Publication Date
7 Oct, 2020
Creation Date
7 Oct, 2020
Last Update Date
17 Dec, 2021
Visibility
Public
Views
203
Favorites
Comments
0
Work In Progress
Tags
glynyon-5020

Find your way!

Resources

WHO WE ARE

LEGAL

Get the news

Our Shop

Development

EVENTS

REACHING OUT

A BIG THANK YOU

To all our Our Patrons for their unwavering love and support.

For the amazing images. His Titanship Christopher Dravus of Ironrise Games, Our Revered Deity Basic Dragon / Rin & His Majesty Caeora