In the idyllic time of the Age of Wonders, before the birth of the Elves and the Cerenoth, the sorcerers of Valtyr explored their new gift of magic in peace and prosperity. It was a time rife with experiments, great discoveries and magical crafting the likes of which the world has never seen since. In these days, only the Tower Verseth on Nilea and the Tower Tethion in Syr stood as halls for the sorcerers to practice their art within. There, they created artifacts of great arcane power and bound within them pieces of the living Voss, using the lost ritual known as the Genalagas Verun, so that the magic would never die. One such artifact that was created during this time is the fabled Orrery of Stones.
Designed to allow sorcerers to tap into the divinations of their rivals, the Brotherhood, the Orrery was a miniature construct of swirling gemstones that orbited a star sapphire carved with the symbol of the Citadel. It is said that the artifact allowed those who knew how to use it many powers: the ability to see into the near future; the power to discern truth from lies; the ability to power their spells to untold heights; and even more dangerous powers such as the ability to bind targets within the orbiting gemstones and gain control over the astral power of the moon and stars themselves!
The Orrery was primarily used as a way to guide the hands of the decision makers within the Citadel of the time, helping the order to flourish by reading the loom of Fate. It alone is attributed with the decision of where to build each of the other Towers during the Age of Wonders. It guided the High Council’s hand when establishing the Citadel’s hierarchical system, and is even said to have predicted notable sorcerers who would live in legend or infamy (such as the traitorous Nezrün Janus Blackthorn or the powerful Ord-Akana Kain Brashyr) well before their time.
Such an artifact was beyond its measure in worth and was guarded carefully by the High Councils that maintained it. But all of that changed in the fall of 2226, when the attacks against the Citadel had reached the shores of Nilea and threatened the very heart of the organization, the first Tower Verseth. The High Council of those days watched in bleak misery as the swarms of Storm Knights overran their villages and towns, leading a destructive path to the Tower Verseth. In an act of final desperation, the High Council stole the Tower Verseth and all its magic away from the world of Valtyr. But for reasons that are not fully understood, the Orrery of Stones, which had been housed in the tower for over 1,300 years, did not travel with it.
After the Tower Verseth returned to the world, the Citadel launched a secret campaign to uncover the missing object of power and return it to their vaults. Hundreds of sorcerers took on the task, but to date none have been successful. A story has arisen of a few sorcerers who had found the Orrery of Stones but did not elect to take it from its hiding place. These individuals speak of a great danger that could befall all magic in Valtyr if the Orrery was ever returned to the Tower Verseth. Unfortunately, these tales are probably false, as magical interrogations by the Citadel’s chief Councilors have detected an alteration in these sorcerers’ memories, leading the High Council to believe such tales are not entirely true. Perhaps the presence of the magic within the Orrery has shifted from its original intent, showing visions of false futures and deceptions rather than the truth. None within the Citadel can be certain until someone succeeds in returning the Orrery to one of their towers for study. For now, the legend of the Orrery of Stones remains a mystery, and one the High Council of the current Age would very much like to solve.
Orrery of Stones
Type: Artifact
Description: A polished, glowing star sapphire roughly 7 inches in diameter with a silver Citadel rune in its center orbited by 6 gemstones (ruby, diamond, emerald, topaz, amethyst, and moonstone), each bearing the ancient mark of one of the first High Councilors
Powers: all are not known, but those documented are as follows:
Farsight: one can look into the future and determine the answer to a single question a month
Truth: in the presence of the Orrery, lies and illusions fail to work
Conjoin: a sorcerer may double his own Arcane, Resistance and Ward SR stats once a day
Imprison: a target may be imprisoned within one of the six orbiting stones for a single year
Starfire: calls down a torrent of 20 silver comets from the night sky that each cause 10D6 damage in a medium area, rounded down, once per evening
Transform: can shift a target into any other humanoid or beast form for up to one week
Showing posts with label Items. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Items. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Moruk's Charm
Not every story in Valtyr Chronciles involves a reluctant hero embarking a quest to save his homeland from disaster, or the discovery of ancient magic, or even the rescue of a damsel in distress. Some stories are just about normal people who end up doing unusual things by accident. The story of Moruk is one such tale.
In the present Age – the Age of Trials as many call it – Moruk was a cerenoth in service to a human sorcerer named Talos Lindergaard, whom he owed a debt for saving his life. The cerenoth had been involved in a fight with an elder chimera just outside of the town of Jarras in Rynell when the creature had delivered a near fatal wound. It was all Moruk could do fend the great beast off, when out of nowhere great surges of lightning struck out from the air and killed the chimera instantly. Moruk looked back into the smug face of an approaching older man in brown robes. His pride wounded, Moruk was infuriated with the meddling sorcerer, who had stolen his glorious death by intervening. Talos was at first overcome with shock at the Cerenoth’s agitation, but quickly dismissed the raging Moruk as “more than half mad, and much too concerned with his own death to make any sense.”
That would have been the end of it, but Moruk knew that he could not allow his pride to suffer further indignation. Following the age-old Cerenoth adage “a scale for a scale”, he pledged his life to the sorcerer until such time that he could repay his debt and save Talos’s life in turn. Being a shrewd man, Talos saw great promise in this and agreed to Moruk’s proposition. He asked Moruk to accompany him to the whispering town of Myzzen where he sought out fellow “comrades” he needed to speak with. Moruk was not too happy about a trek that far west, for the route would take nearly a week of travel through some inhospitable terrain. But he had promised the sorcerer and the word of a Cerenoth is always something of value.
For days they traveled over broken plains, across rocky fields and through small copses of unnamed woods until finally they reached the main coastal road and turned south to Myzzen. All the while Moruk endured the lectures and self-important speeches that Talos prattled on and on about as they neared their destination. There did not seem to be a rodent, bird, plant, or rock that Talos was not an expert on. Time crawled and Moruk wished only to see a battle unfold so that he could fulfill his promise and leave the talkative human to his own company. But, alas, not a single threat (other than boredom) assaulted the two as they went about their way.
When they finally reached the walls of Myzzen, Talos bid Moruk to stay outside a two-story herbalist shop while he conducted his “business”. The sorcerer entered and was gone a long time before finally returning once more. He seemed pleased with whatever had transpired and he made his way to another stop, a local sorcerer’s shop, where he had “friends that could lend him what he needed.” Sighing heavily, Moruk continued on, but did not have to travel far before they arrived at the place.
This time Talos asked Moruk to enter with him and make a show of being his bodyguard. Moruk was about to refuse, but Talos explained that inside was a danger greater than most. Moruk was curious and hoped for a way to free himself of his debt. He agreed and the two entered the cluttered shop.
Inside, bottles, beakers and vials of dust sat in shelves filled with strange tools and books. A spicy odor lingered on the air and Talos moved quickly towards a large, fat man behind a counter with rimmed glasses and several piercings in his ears and nose. Not seeing any sign of danger, Moruk felt betrayed by Talos’s lie and began to wander about the shop. The two men were deep in conversation over a bag of gems that Talos had withdrawn from his robes and did not notice it when the Cerenoth accidentally knocked a large beaker filled with a bronze sludge into a case with a jeweled beetle necklace and a row of fine yellow powder. Moruk tried to stop the beaker from spilling but he wasn’t fast enough. The container hit the dust and beetle charm with a solid crash and the liquid spilled everywhere.
The two men had enough time to look up in surprise as a cloud of gas started to bubble and grow from the mixture of dust and sludge. A great clicking noise issued from the cloud and Moruk backed away hastily, grabbing his large bladed-axe he kept close at hand.
From out of the cloud sprang a giant replica of the beetle, except that it was covered in a shifting bronze texture that resembled treated glass. The beetle sprang out and Moruk dodged to the side, striking out with his axe. If the creature felt the blow, it didn’t register it. Instead it headed straight for the two men at the counter.
Thinking fast Talos lashed out with a spell that sent a dizzying series of electrical bolts spinning into the animated beetle, but it only seemed to aggravate the creature further. The beetle grabbed the sorcerer by the leg and flung him bodily into a series of bookshelves. Moruk was quick to drag the man free from the creature’s next attack and this time delivered a crushing blow to the beast’s head. With a whimper and a sudden tick, tick, tick, the creature shrunk impossibly small and fell to the ground as a lifeless bronze beetle of normal size.
Aghast at the damage, the owner shooed Moruk and Talos out and threatened to call the guards if they did not leave immediately. In addition, he savagely kicked the beetle at Moruk, which spun up into the air and landed in the cobble-stoned outside the shop. Talos hurried away, calling after Moruk to follow him, lest the guards come and “truly make this day even worse.” Moruk only smiled, for he had done as he had promised and no longer was bound to aid the talkative sorcerer. The beetle would surely have killed him if Moruk had not intervened. At least, that’s what the Cerenoth told himself and who knew…it might have even been true. Bending down, he grasped the bronze beetle and put it in his pack. Not really caring if there was more surprise to be found, Moruk could think of only one thing: the beetle had saved him from his debt and he was free once more.
Moruk left Talos sputtering in anger and watched as the sorcerer dashed down a street and vanish around a bend. Fingering the beetle, Moruk threaded it through a piece of leather and placed it around him neck, calling it his “good luck charm” from sorcerers everywhere. Then he turned and was gone, only to show up years later with quite a few more “beetle charms”. He had found he possessed the talent to wield alchemy and put those gifts to good use, manufacturing more of his “good luck charms” for those with the funds to pay for them. These days it seems everyone in Rynell has either owned one of Moruk’s famous charms or at least knew someone who had.
Moruk’s Charm
Type: Alchemical amulet
Description: bronze beetle charm for a necklace with the letter M inscribed on the back
Powers: grants its wearer +3 dice to Cunning Fate and can avoid one Disaster per game
Special Cerneoth Power: if the wearer is a Cerneoth, the charm can also animate into a larger version of itself once per week upon speaking the command word “ezkara”, which means “freedom” in Draconic. The beetle has the following stats and persists until destroyed or 3 rounds go by, whichever comes first:
Battle: 7
Damage: 1D6
Evasion: 3 (SR 2)
Resistance: 4 (SR 4)
Health: 20
Passive Powers:
Void Voss: if a spell has a Miss Effect, ignore it when cast on Moruk’s Beetle
In the present Age – the Age of Trials as many call it – Moruk was a cerenoth in service to a human sorcerer named Talos Lindergaard, whom he owed a debt for saving his life. The cerenoth had been involved in a fight with an elder chimera just outside of the town of Jarras in Rynell when the creature had delivered a near fatal wound. It was all Moruk could do fend the great beast off, when out of nowhere great surges of lightning struck out from the air and killed the chimera instantly. Moruk looked back into the smug face of an approaching older man in brown robes. His pride wounded, Moruk was infuriated with the meddling sorcerer, who had stolen his glorious death by intervening. Talos was at first overcome with shock at the Cerenoth’s agitation, but quickly dismissed the raging Moruk as “more than half mad, and much too concerned with his own death to make any sense.”
That would have been the end of it, but Moruk knew that he could not allow his pride to suffer further indignation. Following the age-old Cerenoth adage “a scale for a scale”, he pledged his life to the sorcerer until such time that he could repay his debt and save Talos’s life in turn. Being a shrewd man, Talos saw great promise in this and agreed to Moruk’s proposition. He asked Moruk to accompany him to the whispering town of Myzzen where he sought out fellow “comrades” he needed to speak with. Moruk was not too happy about a trek that far west, for the route would take nearly a week of travel through some inhospitable terrain. But he had promised the sorcerer and the word of a Cerenoth is always something of value.
For days they traveled over broken plains, across rocky fields and through small copses of unnamed woods until finally they reached the main coastal road and turned south to Myzzen. All the while Moruk endured the lectures and self-important speeches that Talos prattled on and on about as they neared their destination. There did not seem to be a rodent, bird, plant, or rock that Talos was not an expert on. Time crawled and Moruk wished only to see a battle unfold so that he could fulfill his promise and leave the talkative human to his own company. But, alas, not a single threat (other than boredom) assaulted the two as they went about their way.
When they finally reached the walls of Myzzen, Talos bid Moruk to stay outside a two-story herbalist shop while he conducted his “business”. The sorcerer entered and was gone a long time before finally returning once more. He seemed pleased with whatever had transpired and he made his way to another stop, a local sorcerer’s shop, where he had “friends that could lend him what he needed.” Sighing heavily, Moruk continued on, but did not have to travel far before they arrived at the place.
This time Talos asked Moruk to enter with him and make a show of being his bodyguard. Moruk was about to refuse, but Talos explained that inside was a danger greater than most. Moruk was curious and hoped for a way to free himself of his debt. He agreed and the two entered the cluttered shop.
Inside, bottles, beakers and vials of dust sat in shelves filled with strange tools and books. A spicy odor lingered on the air and Talos moved quickly towards a large, fat man behind a counter with rimmed glasses and several piercings in his ears and nose. Not seeing any sign of danger, Moruk felt betrayed by Talos’s lie and began to wander about the shop. The two men were deep in conversation over a bag of gems that Talos had withdrawn from his robes and did not notice it when the Cerenoth accidentally knocked a large beaker filled with a bronze sludge into a case with a jeweled beetle necklace and a row of fine yellow powder. Moruk tried to stop the beaker from spilling but he wasn’t fast enough. The container hit the dust and beetle charm with a solid crash and the liquid spilled everywhere.
The two men had enough time to look up in surprise as a cloud of gas started to bubble and grow from the mixture of dust and sludge. A great clicking noise issued from the cloud and Moruk backed away hastily, grabbing his large bladed-axe he kept close at hand.
From out of the cloud sprang a giant replica of the beetle, except that it was covered in a shifting bronze texture that resembled treated glass. The beetle sprang out and Moruk dodged to the side, striking out with his axe. If the creature felt the blow, it didn’t register it. Instead it headed straight for the two men at the counter.
Thinking fast Talos lashed out with a spell that sent a dizzying series of electrical bolts spinning into the animated beetle, but it only seemed to aggravate the creature further. The beetle grabbed the sorcerer by the leg and flung him bodily into a series of bookshelves. Moruk was quick to drag the man free from the creature’s next attack and this time delivered a crushing blow to the beast’s head. With a whimper and a sudden tick, tick, tick, the creature shrunk impossibly small and fell to the ground as a lifeless bronze beetle of normal size.
Aghast at the damage, the owner shooed Moruk and Talos out and threatened to call the guards if they did not leave immediately. In addition, he savagely kicked the beetle at Moruk, which spun up into the air and landed in the cobble-stoned outside the shop. Talos hurried away, calling after Moruk to follow him, lest the guards come and “truly make this day even worse.” Moruk only smiled, for he had done as he had promised and no longer was bound to aid the talkative sorcerer. The beetle would surely have killed him if Moruk had not intervened. At least, that’s what the Cerenoth told himself and who knew…it might have even been true. Bending down, he grasped the bronze beetle and put it in his pack. Not really caring if there was more surprise to be found, Moruk could think of only one thing: the beetle had saved him from his debt and he was free once more.
Moruk left Talos sputtering in anger and watched as the sorcerer dashed down a street and vanish around a bend. Fingering the beetle, Moruk threaded it through a piece of leather and placed it around him neck, calling it his “good luck charm” from sorcerers everywhere. Then he turned and was gone, only to show up years later with quite a few more “beetle charms”. He had found he possessed the talent to wield alchemy and put those gifts to good use, manufacturing more of his “good luck charms” for those with the funds to pay for them. These days it seems everyone in Rynell has either owned one of Moruk’s famous charms or at least knew someone who had.
Moruk’s Charm
Type: Alchemical amulet
Description: bronze beetle charm for a necklace with the letter M inscribed on the back
Powers: grants its wearer +3 dice to Cunning Fate and can avoid one Disaster per game
Special Cerneoth Power: if the wearer is a Cerneoth, the charm can also animate into a larger version of itself once per week upon speaking the command word “ezkara”, which means “freedom” in Draconic. The beetle has the following stats and persists until destroyed or 3 rounds go by, whichever comes first:
Battle: 7
Damage: 1D6
Evasion: 3 (SR 2)
Resistance: 4 (SR 4)
Health: 20
Passive Powers:
Void Voss: if a spell has a Miss Effect, ignore it when cast on Moruk’s Beetle
Monday, February 1, 2010
Warden's Crest
In the year 1237, a young man named Branoc Tessguard led a group of like-minded men against a tyrant in the northern part of Mierg. It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed in the black sky and rain pounded the muddy ground as Tessguard and his fellows stormed the tyrant’s keep and liberated the people of the times from his iron rule. Heralded as champions once they were done, Branoc gathered his men around him and decided to dedicate his life to the pursuit of seeing justice done in the burgeoning kingdoms of men. He formed a knighthood that night and called them the Storm Knights, for it would be in dark and stormy times that mankind would need them most.
Branoc’s legacy traveled far and wide and many warriors sharing his love for peace and justice flocked to his new banner. The ranks of the new Storm Knights swelled and the banner of a rider bearing a shield with a lightning bolt on it flew proudly from castle to town walls in the south. Branoc led the Storm Knights against bandits on the highway, tyrants in the cities and the foul Primordials that prowled the edges of civilization. His knighthood were seen as defenders for the common man and served no king directly until the coronation of King Cyrus in Mierg in the year 1256, where they pledged their loyalty to the southern kingdoms of men.
During their rise to power and the years of peace that followed, they became a favorite with the common people of the world. Men could relate to their bravery. Women swooned for their heroes in shining armor. Children sang songs about their heroics and played at being a Storm Knight in the backyards and alleyways of the world. All was good, for a time.
The knights’ symbol was a rider with a shield emblazoned with a lightning bolt on it, but this was not their only great treasure. Before Tessguard’s passing he made a deal with a band of Brotherhood monks. In exchange for a service that the monks required (the return of a sacred relic that a rock Primordial horde had overrun) they would fashion Branoc, and all his knights, special armor that would aid them in their fight for the light. Branoc agreed and shortly thereafter delivered the missing relic to the Brotherhood’s care. True to their word, the monk had armor made and prayed over it, blessing it with great vitality, strength, and most of all purity of spirit.
The Storm Knights donned this new armor and called it the Warden’s Crest for the protective symbols that were etched into the leather, scale, or steel surfaces. For generations, new knights would inherit the Warden’s Crest from their fathers. When a set was lost, it was sought out at all costs. Even with this diligence, many Warden Crests were lost even before the Great War began and turned the Storm Knights from their roles as protectorates to the people.
These days the story of the Warden’s Crest has all but faded from history. Some of the descendants of the Storm Knights living in Has Esperia in Mierg still know the tale of the special suits of armor, as does the Brotherhood who fashioned them so long ago. But few possess the sacred items in this modern time of trials. Those that do keep it to themselves, hoping that one day the merit of a true knighthood will rise up again and resume what the Storm Knights were once charged with. Some believe that the new group known as the Hundred Men might be such knights. Others hold out hope for a reformed Storm Knight to rise again, like Branoc once did, and lead the group to salvation. Still others believe that there can never be another who will wear the Warden’s Crest again.
The truth remains to be seen. All that is known is that unless you are pure of spirit, selfless in thought, and righteous in action, the Warden’s Crest is nothing more than common, light armor.
Warden’s Crest
Type: Blessed armor
Description: leather, scale or steel armor with sigils and holy words inscribed on its surface
Armor Bonus: considered heavy armor (+2 to Armor SR)
Powers: +2 to Evasion, +15 to total HP, allows the use of Cunning or Fortitude Fate twice per session
Requirements: only works for those without selfishness or greed in their heart; must have Spirit 4 or greater and at least 3 powers from either the Combat Mastery or Tactician talent trees.
Get your copy of Valtyr Chronicles today and let your own adventures begin.
Branoc’s legacy traveled far and wide and many warriors sharing his love for peace and justice flocked to his new banner. The ranks of the new Storm Knights swelled and the banner of a rider bearing a shield with a lightning bolt on it flew proudly from castle to town walls in the south. Branoc led the Storm Knights against bandits on the highway, tyrants in the cities and the foul Primordials that prowled the edges of civilization. His knighthood were seen as defenders for the common man and served no king directly until the coronation of King Cyrus in Mierg in the year 1256, where they pledged their loyalty to the southern kingdoms of men.
During their rise to power and the years of peace that followed, they became a favorite with the common people of the world. Men could relate to their bravery. Women swooned for their heroes in shining armor. Children sang songs about their heroics and played at being a Storm Knight in the backyards and alleyways of the world. All was good, for a time.
The knights’ symbol was a rider with a shield emblazoned with a lightning bolt on it, but this was not their only great treasure. Before Tessguard’s passing he made a deal with a band of Brotherhood monks. In exchange for a service that the monks required (the return of a sacred relic that a rock Primordial horde had overrun) they would fashion Branoc, and all his knights, special armor that would aid them in their fight for the light. Branoc agreed and shortly thereafter delivered the missing relic to the Brotherhood’s care. True to their word, the monk had armor made and prayed over it, blessing it with great vitality, strength, and most of all purity of spirit.
The Storm Knights donned this new armor and called it the Warden’s Crest for the protective symbols that were etched into the leather, scale, or steel surfaces. For generations, new knights would inherit the Warden’s Crest from their fathers. When a set was lost, it was sought out at all costs. Even with this diligence, many Warden Crests were lost even before the Great War began and turned the Storm Knights from their roles as protectorates to the people.
These days the story of the Warden’s Crest has all but faded from history. Some of the descendants of the Storm Knights living in Has Esperia in Mierg still know the tale of the special suits of armor, as does the Brotherhood who fashioned them so long ago. But few possess the sacred items in this modern time of trials. Those that do keep it to themselves, hoping that one day the merit of a true knighthood will rise up again and resume what the Storm Knights were once charged with. Some believe that the new group known as the Hundred Men might be such knights. Others hold out hope for a reformed Storm Knight to rise again, like Branoc once did, and lead the group to salvation. Still others believe that there can never be another who will wear the Warden’s Crest again.
The truth remains to be seen. All that is known is that unless you are pure of spirit, selfless in thought, and righteous in action, the Warden’s Crest is nothing more than common, light armor.
Warden’s Crest
Type: Blessed armor
Description: leather, scale or steel armor with sigils and holy words inscribed on its surface
Armor Bonus: considered heavy armor (+2 to Armor SR)
Powers: +2 to Evasion, +15 to total HP, allows the use of Cunning or Fortitude Fate twice per session
Requirements: only works for those without selfishness or greed in their heart; must have Spirit 4 or greater and at least 3 powers from either the Combat Mastery or Tactician talent trees.
Get your copy of Valtyr Chronicles today and let your own adventures begin.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Cinder & Ash
During the Age of Wonders, a young man named Gregor set out from his home village of Tolas View in Syr on a quest to find himself. The fourth son of a cobbler, Gregor had larger plans than sweeping up shavings from his father’s store or tending to his younger two sisters while his older brothers were apprenticed off to various trade crafts. So one night Gregor devised a plan to sneak away from home and join a caravan of traveling gypsies and performers as they made their way through Tolas View and on to Illyic in the north. His plan worked and before the following sunrise, he was miles from home, free as a bird and part of the traveling troupe known as the Silver Hearts.
For years Gregor worked as a stagehand, an acrobat, a juggler, a dish washer, a runner and a magician’s assistant in the traveling fair. He became fast friends with his fellow performers and even fell in love once or twice with the girls in the towns he passed through. Life was good, until the day the Silver Hearts settled in the village of Thavel.
It was a day like any other. The tents and stages were being erected. People were bustling to and fro, putting on makeup and practicing their lines. The villages of Thavel were eager for their evening entertainment and many young boys and girls danced around the performer’s camp just outside of town, eager to spy a peek at what majesty was sure to come.
Gregor had grown into a fine young man and was finishing his juggling practice with Cerese, his partner, when a man dashed into his tent holding his side. Blood seeped from between his fingers and he spilled into Gregor’s arms, his eyes wild with fright. His lips moved in a fervor and Cerese screamed as Gregor and the man went crashing to the ground. Gregor disentangled himself from the man and rolled him over to examine the stranger’s wounds. He didn’t need to be one of the faithful to realize the man was dying.
In a sudden burst of strength, the man grabbed hold of Gregor’s tunic and pulled him close. He whispered the phrase, “Protect them boy. Don’t let them get the blades! Find the moor and end it!” With that, he pushed a rolled up lump of oilskin into Gregor’s hand that he had been clutching to his side.
Gregor yelled for Cerese to get help and she fled, calling for aid. Almost immediately, the man’s eyes widened in fright and he struggled to rise, moving as if to flee. Gregor tried to restrain him, but the man’s strength was born of fear and he pushed Gregor away roughly as he stumbled towards the tent opening. A sudden darkness overtook the tent and all went black. Gregor heard the man scream in muffled agony. Then the lights returned and the man was gone.
People flocked into the tent and stared at the bloody stains on Gregor’s hands. He tried to explain what happened, but few believed his tale. Only Cerese stood by him as the day’s light faded and people returned to their tasks, for the evening performance was soon to begin. Distraught at what he had seen and the lack of faith in his fellow troupe mates, Gregor skipped the show that night, taking comfort alone by a nearby village campfire. It was then that he unrolled the oilskin the crazed man had given him and found two daggers wrapped inside: one had a blade of glimmering red steel and the other a black obsidian shard strapped to a handle of wood. The daggers were both slightly curved and bore strange insignias on their blades.
Curious, Gregor lifted one of the blades in his hand, the red one, and felt a name whisper into his mind: “Cinder”. Fingering the other, he heard the same voice whisper “Ash”. His mind reeled for a moment as he saw a vision of a staircase descending into a lake on an isolated moor filled with scrub brush and the sounds of water wildlife. A compulsion overcame him and he felt certain that he needed to find that place, to set foot on those stairs and to uncover what lie underneath.
As if waking from a dream, Gregor looked upon the distant sight of the Silver Hearts performing and realized that his true calling lay elsewhere. He must take Cinder and Ash to the moor in his vision and find the stairs that led under the lake.
Without another word, Gregor disappeared that night, never to be seen again. A chill wind blew on the village of Tolas View as Gregor set out.
Since that time, the twin daggers known as Cinder and Ash have appeared in various hands, from kings to thieves to sorcerers, sometimes as a set and other times as single blades. Always they guide the hand that holds them towards the other in the set and finally to the lonely moor and the stairway under the lake. If any have found the key to what lies underneath, none have come forward with that information yet. Many who have carried Cinder and Ash have disappeared without a trace. The daggers have become legend in certain circles and obsession in others, for rumors exist that whatever lies underneath the lonely lake in the vision has the power to grant unspeakable power to the bearer of the blades.
Cinder
Type: Lesser arcane weapon
Description: steel dagger with a curious red tinge and a curving cross guard
Damage: 1D6+2
Powers: grants its wielder +2 to Battle
Ash
Type: Lesser arcane weapon
Description: obsidian dagger with a wooden hilt bearing three horns
Damage: 1D6+2
Powers: grants its wielder +2 to Agility skill checks to hide and sneak
Set bonus: possessing both daggers gives the following bonuses: +4 to Initiative and half damage from fire or frost.
Compulsion: while the dagger(s) are in your possession, you must make a Spirit skill check (SR 3) each day not to quest for the lost moor and the stairs that lead under its lake.
Get your copy of Valtyr Chronicles today and let your own adventures begin.
For years Gregor worked as a stagehand, an acrobat, a juggler, a dish washer, a runner and a magician’s assistant in the traveling fair. He became fast friends with his fellow performers and even fell in love once or twice with the girls in the towns he passed through. Life was good, until the day the Silver Hearts settled in the village of Thavel.
It was a day like any other. The tents and stages were being erected. People were bustling to and fro, putting on makeup and practicing their lines. The villages of Thavel were eager for their evening entertainment and many young boys and girls danced around the performer’s camp just outside of town, eager to spy a peek at what majesty was sure to come.
Gregor had grown into a fine young man and was finishing his juggling practice with Cerese, his partner, when a man dashed into his tent holding his side. Blood seeped from between his fingers and he spilled into Gregor’s arms, his eyes wild with fright. His lips moved in a fervor and Cerese screamed as Gregor and the man went crashing to the ground. Gregor disentangled himself from the man and rolled him over to examine the stranger’s wounds. He didn’t need to be one of the faithful to realize the man was dying.
In a sudden burst of strength, the man grabbed hold of Gregor’s tunic and pulled him close. He whispered the phrase, “Protect them boy. Don’t let them get the blades! Find the moor and end it!” With that, he pushed a rolled up lump of oilskin into Gregor’s hand that he had been clutching to his side.
Gregor yelled for Cerese to get help and she fled, calling for aid. Almost immediately, the man’s eyes widened in fright and he struggled to rise, moving as if to flee. Gregor tried to restrain him, but the man’s strength was born of fear and he pushed Gregor away roughly as he stumbled towards the tent opening. A sudden darkness overtook the tent and all went black. Gregor heard the man scream in muffled agony. Then the lights returned and the man was gone.
People flocked into the tent and stared at the bloody stains on Gregor’s hands. He tried to explain what happened, but few believed his tale. Only Cerese stood by him as the day’s light faded and people returned to their tasks, for the evening performance was soon to begin. Distraught at what he had seen and the lack of faith in his fellow troupe mates, Gregor skipped the show that night, taking comfort alone by a nearby village campfire. It was then that he unrolled the oilskin the crazed man had given him and found two daggers wrapped inside: one had a blade of glimmering red steel and the other a black obsidian shard strapped to a handle of wood. The daggers were both slightly curved and bore strange insignias on their blades.
Curious, Gregor lifted one of the blades in his hand, the red one, and felt a name whisper into his mind: “Cinder”. Fingering the other, he heard the same voice whisper “Ash”. His mind reeled for a moment as he saw a vision of a staircase descending into a lake on an isolated moor filled with scrub brush and the sounds of water wildlife. A compulsion overcame him and he felt certain that he needed to find that place, to set foot on those stairs and to uncover what lie underneath.
As if waking from a dream, Gregor looked upon the distant sight of the Silver Hearts performing and realized that his true calling lay elsewhere. He must take Cinder and Ash to the moor in his vision and find the stairs that led under the lake.
Without another word, Gregor disappeared that night, never to be seen again. A chill wind blew on the village of Tolas View as Gregor set out.
Since that time, the twin daggers known as Cinder and Ash have appeared in various hands, from kings to thieves to sorcerers, sometimes as a set and other times as single blades. Always they guide the hand that holds them towards the other in the set and finally to the lonely moor and the stairway under the lake. If any have found the key to what lies underneath, none have come forward with that information yet. Many who have carried Cinder and Ash have disappeared without a trace. The daggers have become legend in certain circles and obsession in others, for rumors exist that whatever lies underneath the lonely lake in the vision has the power to grant unspeakable power to the bearer of the blades.
Cinder
Type: Lesser arcane weapon
Description: steel dagger with a curious red tinge and a curving cross guard
Damage: 1D6+2
Powers: grants its wielder +2 to Battle
Ash
Type: Lesser arcane weapon
Description: obsidian dagger with a wooden hilt bearing three horns
Damage: 1D6+2
Powers: grants its wielder +2 to Agility skill checks to hide and sneak
Set bonus: possessing both daggers gives the following bonuses: +4 to Initiative and half damage from fire or frost.
Compulsion: while the dagger(s) are in your possession, you must make a Spirit skill check (SR 3) each day not to quest for the lost moor and the stairs that lead under its lake.
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