Welcome to the site for our play-by-post D&D game. While the campaign itself is run through Gmail, this blog is here to host resources such as maps, calendars, and character journals. For anyone wishing to read the actual in-game content, please contact me for access. Plot summaries of the campaign threads are posted to this blog and can be found easily by clicking the "plotsummaries" label on the right. The game is written as a narrative collectively by all players; below is a sample post from the DM (me).
28 Flamerule, Middark
Cormanthor
After Penrith had been helped to his feet, able to walk with some measure of strength (but little else), the elf woman disappeared into the forest, and the members of Soltrius's contingent followed closely behind. She led the companions down dense paths and—to her credit—out of sight of the bodies of the fallen—though, gods, there must have been many! Was Penrith the lone Plume soldier who'd been spared?
As they walked, Penrith caught in step with Markel, and said to him, "I must thank ye, Good-sir-whose-name-I-know-not. It was foolish of me to leave the cover of your friends. Despite my emotions... I may have endangered you all."
Down through a grove, Selûne's light guided them—and was even sufficient for the humans among the troupe to see, once their eyes had adjusted to the fireless dark. Before long, man, elf, and gnome alike could hear the chuckle of a gentle stream flowing softly nearby. Soon, they came upon it, and at its shore, they saw glimpses of a wiry, barely-clothed male elf, tan and painted like the others that the contingent knew tarried about them, albeit unseen. The wild elf had one leg half-immersed in the rippling water, and appeared to be cleansing a long, bleeding gash.
Around the companions, more longbow-brandishing painted elves came into view, and the cloaked female stemmed her gliding march. "We shall rest here, for awhile," she said, in a tone loud enough for only the contingent to hear. "Take care with your words, for the Sy'Tel'Quessir may not have stayed their bows from your hearts had they ventured to your camp alone."
Cormanthor
After Penrith had been helped to his feet, able to walk with some measure of strength (but little else), the elf woman disappeared into the forest, and the members of Soltrius's contingent followed closely behind. She led the companions down dense paths and—to her credit—out of sight of the bodies of the fallen—though, gods, there must have been many! Was Penrith the lone Plume soldier who'd been spared?
As they walked, Penrith caught in step with Markel, and said to him, "I must thank ye, Good-sir-whose-name-I-know-not. It was foolish of me to leave the cover of your friends. Despite my emotions... I may have endangered you all."
Down through a grove, Selûne's light guided them—and was even sufficient for the humans among the troupe to see, once their eyes had adjusted to the fireless dark. Before long, man, elf, and gnome alike could hear the chuckle of a gentle stream flowing softly nearby. Soon, they came upon it, and at its shore, they saw glimpses of a wiry, barely-clothed male elf, tan and painted like the others that the contingent knew tarried about them, albeit unseen. The wild elf had one leg half-immersed in the rippling water, and appeared to be cleansing a long, bleeding gash.
Around the companions, more longbow-brandishing painted elves came into view, and the cloaked female stemmed her gliding march. "We shall rest here, for awhile," she said, in a tone loud enough for only the contingent to hear. "Take care with your words, for the Sy'Tel'Quessir may not have stayed their bows from your hearts had they ventured to your camp alone."
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Enjoy!
Matt
0 adventurers hailed: