GreenDragonPage
     The Desert of Castangnia    
  
The campaign begins in the Desert of Castangnia, a harsh and unforgiving landscape dotted with isolated oasis towns. Trade routes snake through the arid wilderness, linking the human cities along the northern coast, the mighty dwarven strongholds nestled in the eastern mountains, and the dense, verdant elven jungles to the south. Castangnia's climate is relentless, with searing heat in the summer and bone-chilling cold in the winter. Only the bold or desperate choose to make their home in this hostile region.

Generations ago, a band of warrior-priests known as the Knights of the Cudgel established a stronghold in the desert, a sanctuary amid the sands as they waged an endless war against raiders, vicious predators and cunning outlaws. Around this fortification, a town grew—a settlement that would come to be known as Gabrijel.

The adventurers begin their journey in Gabrijel, a key oasis town located in the middle-west of Castangnia. It serves as the last stop for southern caravans before the arduous 200-mile trek to the next oasis up north, and as the first haven for those arriving from the north after enduring the wasteland’s merciless expanse. For generations, Gabrijel has been a critical hub in the caravan network. Without it, the trade routes across this section of the desert would be far more perilous.

Six months ago, the town’s blacksmith, Gimi, clashed with the Knights of the Cudgel over unpaid debts for services rendered. The dispute escalated until Gimi hired a ruthless dwarven mercenary named Axil and his band of orcish thugs to besiege the town and force the Knights to pay what they owed. Events spiraled out of control when Axil and his men infiltrated Gabrijel and slaughtered the Knights in their sleep. At dawn, the town echoed with the triumphant cries of Axil being hailed as the new King of Gabrijel. With the Knights gone, the townsfolk had little choice but to accept their new ruler.

Axil’s reign has been troubled from the start. Obsessed with indulgence and wealth, he ignores sound governance, squandering the town’s resources. His rule has become notorious among the caravan leaders who pass through Gabrijel, as he demands exorbitant water taxes, threatening death by thirst to those who refuse. For now, the caravans reluctantly pay the toll, but there are whispers that patience is wearing thin. The town’s fate hangs in the balance, its future dependent on the continued passage of caravans. Should they find alternate routes, Gabrijel would likely fall into ruin, lost to the sands of Castangnia.


   -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

   
  The new King of Gabrijel has demanded all cities and nations to send tribute to him in order to maintain preferential treatment within Gabrijel's territory. The far flung dwarven stronghold of Sadak had dispatched a young diplomat named Isil Ornek to court the favor of the new king. Her mission is to travel to Gabrijel, present the new King with many gifts and secure the best possible deal that will see the merchants of Sadak favored above all other dwarven nations. Out in the vast wastelands, her caravan was ambushed by goblinoid raiders. Isil rode her camel hard and fast to make it to the safety of a small oasis town - Seracino. Unfortunately, her entourage - and most of the gifts destined for the vaults of Gabrijel - were lost. With very little to her name, she now seeks guards to escort her to Gabrijel so that she may - somehow - complete her mission.   
  
  
  Seracino is a small oasis town with about five hundred residents. During the busy season, the town doubles in size with travelers, traders, itinerants and migrants. Like Gabrijel to the east, Seracino was founded by Knights of the Cudgel to serve as a fortified location to protect travelers as a base of operations from which to turn back the tide of bandits &amp; raiders. The knights gifted the town to an elf named Rhys Purcell. Rhys made a name for himself as a powerful conjurer and had helped the Knights of the Cudgel defeat many raiders. Rhys passed away seven years ago and was succeeded by his half-elven daughter, Maegan. Maegan is a devoted follower of Corellon and has spent much of her personal wealth - and the wealth of the town - constructing the largest temple in the entire wasteland dedicated to the god of magic. Maegan serves as both Jigbor (High Priest/Priestess of Corellon) and Qabda (typical title of a ruler of an oasis town).   
  
  
  Seracino is divided into four quadrants. The first is the Traveler's Quarter, which is where non-residents stay. It is a bustling district full of inns &amp; hostels. The Merchant Quarter, where the great merchant families &amp; craft guilds have established their operations. The center of this district lies the Bazaar, where - one the first day of each week - foreign merchants are allowed to sell their wares directly to buyers (after paying a sizable tax) rather than being forced to sell their wares to the merchant families (who then resell the purchased items for a profit). The third district is the Temple Quarter, which used to be filled with small shrines and places of worship dedicated to every god. The Jigbor outlawed the worship of gods other than Corellon within the town's walls, then proceeded to tear all of the shrines and buildings down in order to clear enough space to build the Dar Magika, the massive stone temple dedicated to Protector and Preserver of Life, which is only two thirds completed thus far. The final district is the Residents Quarter, where the locals live &amp; work. Atop a hill near the western edge of the Resident's Quarter rests the Iheggu - the palace built by the Great Conjurer Rhys Purcell, which now serves as the residence for Qabda Maegan and her government.   
  
  
  Many mercenaries and would-be adventurers gather in a tavern called the Scorpion's Sting. A medium-sized establishment, the Sting (as the locals affectionately call it), is located in the heart of the Traveler's Quarter. The tavern itself does not offer food but happily allows anyone to bring food from the various street vendors inside (so long as one purchases a drink).   
  
  
  Many of the townsfolk and visitors have gathered in the tavern to see the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, dwarven Diplomat - who has put out a call for adventurers and mercenaries to aid her. She has rejected all who have approached her as being unworthy of protecting her. She has an imperious baring that many find off putting.   
  
  
  Beyond Isil, other notable people include:   
  
  
  - An exceptionally beautiful halfling woman, with grey hair and sharp green eyes. She wears tailored clothing, and several pouches hang from her belt. She is being courted by a handful of suitors, but she has rebuffed them all.   
  - A long-faced dwarven woman with silver hair and brown eyes. She wears well-made clothing, and a cape made from desert fox fur. She drinks alone in the corner.   
  - A narrow-faced dwarven man with long black hair and soft green eyes. He wears simple clothing, and several small tools hang from his belt. He has a despondent look on his face, often sighing very loudly. No one pays him much mind, as the crowd gawks over the diplomat.  
paddyfool
Sitting at the bar with a glass of camel’s milk, Djen is watching the proceedings, trying to get a reading on what criteria for “worthiness” Isil’s prospects for help are falling short on.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

  Sense Motive  - (1d20+5)[ 7 ] 
 
GreenDragonPage
 
 Spoiler: Djen 
 Djen gets the sense that Isil is looking for some showmanship, a sense of style. She has turned away several "boring" mercenaries already.  
 
dantiesilva
Moreg had been up late the night before spending time drinking in one of the rougher, red light areas of the travelers district and as such he awoke in the stables with his camels and Wagon.  "Morning Sand, Morning Salt."  the burly half-orc said as he patted his two camels. Moving over to the barrel he kept in the wagon he took a drink of water before wiping his mouth with his arm.  "Well time to work, you stay, me go."  Moreg told his two camels before looking for the stable hand and giving him a silver.  "Keep happy, keep safe or else."  he said pointing to his club, which was a spoke from a wagon wheel before departing.

 
 Spoiler: Intimidate 
  (1d20+4)[ 22 ] 
 


Walking the streets Moreg was more then pleased to here work was being looked for, diper sounded like a weird job, but he didn't judge so long as pay kept him and his friends safe and happy. Walking to the some place the people called the Sting, Moreg was reminded of the time he fought a scorpion and the scar that came with it. Entering the building called the Sting Moreg looked around the building, looking for this diper.   That one cries to much to be a diper, and that one two well dressed.   Moreg thinks to himself as he looks around. Seeing the halfling with a bunch of people around her and the blonde dwarven woman as the only to options. Making his way over to the halfling he pushes the person in front of him out of the way.  "I Moreg, you dipper? Work together, be happy, be safe."  he says holding out his hand not realizing that his lack of understanding words would cause quite a lot of amusement for the tavern that just saw a large half-orc covered in oil and dirt walk up to a halfing saying words, that made no sense.
Biffoniacus_Furiou
Trevorin steps into the Scorpion’s Sting, shaking off the heat of the desert sun as he enters the dimly lit tavern. His sharp eyes scan the room, taking in the scenery and sizing up the gathered patrons. He approaches the bar, his movements fluid and confident, and nods at the innkeeper, placing a silver coin on the counter for a drink.

As he waits, Trevorin glances around at the other patrons, some engaged in lively discussions while others nurse their beverages in silence. He visibly cringed on seeing the half-orc accost the halfling lass, but continues watching the spectacle unfold as his drink arrives.
paddyfool
Djen considers his humble clothing, and decides to push past self doubt for the moment. Pity he hadn’t put a shine on his breastplate, but it would have to do.

He quietly speaks a prayer for guidance in speech and approach, then walks around the scene with the halfling as he approaches Isil directly, head held as high as his average human stature allows.
 
 ”Diplomat Isil, my name is Djen Aeric. I’ve sworn an oath to help travelers in peril, and from what I’ve heard, you fit that description. I may not be flashy, but if you’ll contract me as one of your guards, I’ll do everything I can to see you safe on the road.”  
 
 Spoiler 

Cast Guidance for a +1
  Diplomacy  - (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
 
AvatarVecna
Anne sweeps into the tavern, a dazzling smile splitting her face. Her skin, her hair, her fancy clothes, even her holy symbol, all mark her as an outsider - a stranger in this strange land, an exotic foreigner. She pays no mind to the hobbit harlot and her hangers-on, or the other dwarves, or the sellswords wasting their time. She only has eyes for the diplomat.

  "Congratulations, Lady Isil. You have caught the attention of Anne Miram!"   she proclaims, perhaps a little louder than the ambient noise in the room requires.   "I can tell you're a discerning employer. Mercenaries with strong sword arms are a penny apiece in these parts, but you need more than that - you need someone who isn't going to embarrass you in high society. Someone who isn't going to make your job harder from their lack of tact and class. Someone who understands the value of presentation. Someone...like me!"   She strikes a heroic pose with a wide smile, and the light catches her just right.
u-b
A foreign-looking man is sitting at a table drinking tea, observing the scenery and chatting to a patron who is drinking wine. The man notices how a few more volunteers approach the dwarven diplomat and is interested in seeing how it turns out. He keeps an ear for what his companion has to say, but that, unfortunately, mostly concerns the wines (and not, say, the details of goblinoid attack on the dwarves), which is a pity.

 
 Spoiler 
Gather Info:  (1d20-2)[ 7 ]  vs DC 10+ (also, a pitcher of common wine is involved)
 
CAST
Dale enters the Sting discreetly undoing the folds of his cape that protects his face when traveling through the desert. The halfling is unusually in low spirits... he's in a rush to get to Gabrijel and deliver a letter from his uncle to his stubborn cousin, once again urging him to leave his business and relocate before Axil's crisis further escalates.
The Sting seemed like a good and cheap place to stay during the hottest hours of the day while he and Peanuts recover before resuming their urgent trip. Such is his hurry that Dale is mostly ignorant of what's happening and Isil's objective, but he would personally disapprove of making any deals with Axil's regime or giving the mercenary any legitimacy.
Some say misery loves company so Dale sits on the quiet corner, close to the despondent dwarf, giving him a polite nod and taking a handful of roasted peanuts from a bag. As he litters the table with an empty shell he furrows his brow, trying to hear through the commotion of voices and get an idea of what's going on.

 
 Spoiler 
Listen check: [roll0]
 
SCARY WIZARD
Nanes-Il steps into The Sting, shaking any dust from the road out of her hair.  On her shoulder is a rat who does the same, necessitating a flip from the mage.  She says nothing as she enters... until she spots a group of folk surrounding a dwarven woman.  Grumbling to herself and in spite of her diminutive height, she steps perhaps a yard or two behind the rest, just in case she should need to step in to protect this woman that she  swears  she knows of by description.
GreenDragonPage
 
 Spoiler: Moreg's post 

 
 Originally Posted by dantiesilva 
 Moreg had been up late the night before spending time drinking in one of the rougher, red light areas of the travelers district and as such he awoke in the stables with his camels and Wagon.  "Morning Sand, Morning Salt."  the burly half-orc said as he patted his two camels. Moving over to the barrel he kept in the wagon he took a drink of water before wiping his mouth with his arm.  "Well time to work, you stay, me go."  Moreg told his two camels before looking for the stable hand and giving him a silver.  "Keep happy, keep safe or else."  he said pointing to his club, which was a spoke from a wagon wheel before departing.

 
 Spoiler: Intimidate 
 [roll0]
 


Walking the streets Moreg was more then pleased to here work was being looked for, diper sounded like a weird job, but he didn't judge so long as pay kept him and his friends safe and happy. Walking to the some place the people called the Sting, Moreg was reminded of the time he fought a scorpion and the scar that came with it. Entering the building called the Sting Moreg looked around the building, looking for this diper.   That one cries to much to be a diper, and that one two well dressed.   Moreg thinks to himself as he looks around. Seeing the halfling with a bunch of people around her and the blonde dwarven woman as the only to options. Making his way over to the halfling he pushes the person in front of him out of the way.  "I Moreg, you dipper? Work together, be happy, be safe."  he says holding out his hand not realizing that his lack of understanding words would cause quite a lot of amusement for the tavern that just saw a large half-orc covered in oil and dirt walk up to a halfing saying words, that made no sense. 
 
 


The stable master is thoroughly cowed as he takes the camel's reigns and bows deeply,   "Right you are, stmata Orc.   

Later in the tavern, Moreg saunters up to the halfling woman. She looks Moreg up and down, smiles impolitely, then condescendingly states,   "I am sure you are quite the dipper yourself."   
 
 Spoiler: Her face:  
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Djen's post 

 
 Originally Posted by paddyfool 
 Djen considers his humble clothing, and decides to push past self doubt for the moment. Pity he hadn’t put a shine on his breastplate, but it would have to do.

He quietly speaks a prayer for guidance in speech and approach, then walks around the scene with the halfling as he approaches Isil directly, head held as high as his average human stature allows.
 
 ”Diplomat Isil, my name is Djen Aeric. I’ve sworn an oath to help travelers in peril, and from what I’ve heard, you fit that description. I may not be flashy, but if you’ll contract me as one of your guards, I’ll do everything I can to see you safe on the road.”  
 
 Spoiler 

Cast Guidance for a +1
[roll0]
 
 
 
 


Isil appraises Djen. Her face remains neutral. She then asks,   "Djen Aeric, tell me, what battles have you fought in? Have you protected those you love from raiders? Tell me of your tale?"

   
 Spoiler: Anne's post 

 
 Originally Posted by AvatarVecna 
 Anne sweeps into the tavern, a dazzling smile splitting her face. Her skin, her hair, her fancy clothes, even her holy symbol, all mark her as an outsider - a stranger in this strange land, an exotic foreigner. She pays no mind to the hobbit harlot and her hangers-on, or the other dwarves, or the sellswords wasting their time. She only has eyes for the diplomat.

  "Congratulations, Lady Isil. You have caught the attention of Anne Miram!"   she proclaims, perhaps a little louder than the ambient noise in the room requires.   "I can tell you're a discerning employer. Mercenaries with strong sword arms are a penny apiece in these parts, but you need more than that - you need someone who isn't going to embarrass you in high society. Someone who isn't going to make your job harder from their lack of tact and class. Someone who understands the value of presentation. Someone...like me!"   She strikes a heroic pose with a wide smile, and the light catches her just right. 
 
 


Isil smiles at Anne's bold audacity, "You, you I like. Come, Anne Miram. Come and sit at my table. Help me judge the others who seek to aid us on our journey.

 
 Spoiler: Isil whispering to Anne 
Isil leans in and whispers into Anee's ear,   "What do you think of this Djen Aeric? His attire is simple, his armor is unpolished. Typically, this is the mark of a man who is either lazy or worthy. What say you?"   
 

 
 Spoiler: Azad's Gather Info 
A drunken old human sits next to you and talks you ear off about the narrow-faced dwarf sitting in the corner of the room - Erberk Saltik. He is a silversmith whose wares were stolen in the middle of the night. One of the items he was forging was a silver sword for   Jigbor Maegan. He was paid a large sum of money up front to acquire the silver and forge it into a weapon. Jigbor Maegan is expecting the sword to be delivered before the next Feast Day. If he fails to deliver it on time, he will be punished - severely.    
 

 
 Spoiler: Dale's Listen  
Dale hears the sad dwarf whimpering about a stolen sword and how he believes he will be executed by the Jigbor.
 
u-b
Having concluded that a pitcher of wine has paid for itself in the end, Azad eventually finishes his tea and changes table to sit with the gloomy dwarf artisan.  "People say you have recently suffered from the thieves. If you are able to post a reward for the goods to be recovered, I can look into it. We can discuss the details later on and I don't guarantee a success, but I can listen to what you do know and give a try looking into it." 
paddyfool
 
 Spoiler 
 Isil appraises Djen. Her face remains neutral. She then asks, "Djen Aeric, tell me, what battles have you fought in? Have you protected those you love from raiders? Tell me of your tale?"
 

  ”In my first experience of battle, I was not yet a warrior, and it was honestly a disaster. Skeletons rose out of the sand, and overwhelmed our caravan, putting those of us not grabbed to flight.

The second battle of my life was a long one of survival that followed - cut off, lost and alone, I might have perished but for the blessing of Fharlanghn, who gifted me with a little power and guided my steps to safety.

And now, to thank him, I serve as a warrior protecting other travellers, rather than once again seeking profit in commerce. With the last caravan I accompanied here, I helped see off some goblins, and also helped a fellow guard with a little healing after.

Should you hire me, I can help see that any caravan we put together is properly equipped for the journey and will fight to the last in your defence.   
dantiesilva
 
 Spoiler: Previous post 

 
 Originally Posted by GreenDragonPage 
 The stable master is thoroughly cowed as he takes the camel's reigns and bows deeply,   "Right you are, stmata Orc.   

Later in the tavern, Moreg saunters up to the halfling woman. She looks Moreg up and down, smiles impolitely, then condescendingly states,   "I am sure you are quite the dipper yourself."    
 
 


Moreg is a simple soul and he sees nothing but kindness in the halfling womans words and face.  "No not Moreg, Moreg not good with words like dipers are. Moreg thank you for kind words though."  Moreg says with a genuine smile, trying his best to sound dignified to the woman he thinks is the diplomat, though talking around his tusks in such a way doesn't have the results he planned for and instead simply makes his speech slow and butchered.  "So now Moreg  is here to help you, diper Isil, Moreg very strong in strength and magic. Moreg help diper Isil cross desert if it is what diper wishes. OR perhaps diper wishes for Moreg to do something else?"  he asks the halfling woman, thinking she is the diplomat Isil, after all she is shorter than a human like dwarves are so she has to be Isil.
AvatarVecna
 
 Originally Posted by GreenDragonPage 
 Isil smiles at Anne's bold audacity, "You, you I like. Come, Anne Miram. Come and sit at my table. Help me judge the others who seek to aid us on our journey.

 
 Spoiler: Isil whispering to Anne 
Isil leans in and whispers into Anee's ear,   "What do you think of this Djen Aeric? His attire is simple, his armor is unpolished. Typically, this is the mark of a man who is either lazy or worthy. What say you?"   
 
 
 

Anne's eyes sweep the man, and spot some interesting details. She whispers back:    "Given what I see before me, I'm inclined to believe his tale. He looks like the kind of person who thinks they have what it takes, but dies in the desert. That he's still standing here may be proof of a god's favor. And since he sees it as religious duty, you can probably get away with paying him less,"    she adds with a smirk.
Biffoniacus_Furiou
Half-way through his drink and mostly refreshed, Trevorin struts over to the blonde dwarf confidently, cup in hand. He gives a slight bow, holding out his cloak with one hand to show the green color with intricate embroidery on the interior side as he introduces himself,   "Trevorin Leafwhisper of the Leafshade Sentinels, at your service! I'm headed to Gabrijel already, and I'm well accustomed to defending against the desert's threats. If we were to join forces,"   he holds up a clenched fist,   "there would be no stopping us from reaching our destination!"   He gives her an expectant and youthful grin.
SCARY WIZARD
Nanes-Il, finding an "opening", approaches Isil.    "Ahh... You must be Isil Ornek.  If you are still looking for aid..."   She shuffles her weight to draw attention to her cross bow, its clip tapping against her left knee.    "My magic and missiles will protect you."   Her head does not turn to the folk behind or next to her, though her eyes indicate them in a manner that might suggest that she is saying that she can carry their weight.  How very characteristic of her!

 The rat at her shoulder, a well-groomed critter, matches mage's demeanor.  In fact, their behavior is almost like that of a very confident cat.