And Dragons Shall Rule ... it began as a tale of a band of (relatively) youthful would-be adventurers and how they were duped and drawn into the service of a foreign cult of dragon worshipers ... itself bent on bringing a return to the Age of Dragons, a fabled time before the beginning of elvish history, when dragons ruled the world entire. While the band eventually broke away from the cult ... in bits and pieces ... they would soon learn over the coming years, that its were at last coming to fruition ... no thanks to their own deeds as cult mercenaries, or in some cases, as conscious and willing members. Mighty dragons were roused from their ancient slumbers, acting in concert guided by a een greater overmind, complimented by legions of winged horrors from the Abyss and hordes of the otherwise factitious goblinkind, no matter their race or contempt for one another. Entire stretches of the trade-routes have been hammered and infested into ruin, once mighty city-states all but decimated, and the mightiest of the Western Realms, the Kingdom of Cormyr, splintered and beset both within and without following the death of its heroic king in a battle with one of these terrible wyrms. And this was only the beginning ... In the councils and assemblies that accompanied this state of affairs, reasoned discussion eventually was left with no where to go save myth ... harkening back to the first Age of Dragons and into the dreamtime of the ancient elven folk ... and to the wondrous tales of the Orb or Orbs -- depending on which obscure elven source one consulted -- given as a gift to the ancient wild elves by their high god that enabled them to throw off the yoke of dragonkind and buy elven culture (and power) the space to flourish as it did. The Orb/s of Dragonkind. As perhaps the last and best hope, if the armies of men and their allies should fail on the battlefield, five fellowships were formed and sent out to quest for the fabled orbs. And the survivors of our original youthful band of wouldbe adventurers, formed the backbone of one such group. As all hell was continuing to break loose and broaden its domain in the Western Realms, they had tracked one such orb, the Green Orb, from the elven dreamtime of millenia upon millenia ago, to ... possibly ... within 50 years of its last known locale and owner. And then, as they were travelling back to the base to resupply and coin-up, they made the mistake of searching the basement of a ruin they decided to camp in one stormy night ... and stumbled through a magical teleportation portal that landed them (back) in the Dungeon Beneath the Desert (a transplant of FRs Undermountain) ...
Posted on: Sat, 23 Nov 2013 22:30:01 +0000