Roll to Confirm

Some Backstory
August 16, 2011, 10:58 am
Filed under: Campaign Brewing

Just a little bit of back story I whipped up this morning. The day we’re playing is getting closer so I wanted to give my players a bit of a teaser. I’ve been developing all sorts of fun stuff but I didn’t want to post it for fear of spoilers.

Millenia ago:

Three hunched figures struggled up the nearly sheer face of Agrul-Dal. “The Ancient Brother” or literally, “The Wizened Elder,” was the largest mountain in the range. Others had names but this was the one the dwarves knew best. He had watched over them for many years while they toiled in the valleys, scraping out a life from the meager hills. The dwarves had come to this range before memory and had always suffered at the hands of the harsh weather, long winters and vicious wildlife. There had been a promise of riches but despite the vast cave system that ran for many miles under the range, findings were rare and the veins were small.

Days earlier, an elder from a village far down the valley had arrived. When the afternoon watch found her she was more dead than alive. The old dwarfess had witnessed a vision of the mountain, split in two, bleeding liquid fire. These three, two clerics and the son of the chieftain, had been chosen to investigate.

When they arrived at the spot the elder had seen in her dream, they saw the results of the “liquid fire” she had witnessed. Lava had pooled into every depression and crevice and cooled into slick, jet black obsidian. For fear of slipping on the razor sharp rocks, they had to pick their way carefully towards a natural cave that had opened in the side of the mountain. As they drew closer they felt an aura of protection and peace flow over them. The clerics entered the cave first and as soon as they stepped across the threshold, the air became warm and still. A huge yellow gem, easily the size of a dwarf, sat on a natural stone pedastal. A faint hum emanated from it.

Suddenly a dwarf strode out of one of the solid stone walls of the cave. He wore ancient plate armor. His beard was long, so long that it was wrapped across his shoulder and around his waist like a kilt. He spoke in a voice that sounded like gravel rolling down a hillside.

“I am the avatar of Torag, one that watches over this mountain range. Your people have toiled fruitlessly for years. Many have died. This mountain weeps for your suffering. It has also gifted you beyond the dreams of dwarfkind. This mountain has opened unto you it’s heart. Do not waste this priceless gift.”

To be continued…