This is a freewrite page for the players and DM to write out the story so far. I will edit it every once in a while but feel free to add to it. Please try to use the month day and year when known and keep events in order. Also this is not the place for charcter's individual background stories, they can be alluded to, linked to or be directly refrenced.
The purpose of this page is to keep an account of the campaign and as a place to view the story without sifting through individual character notes, it should not be a place for simple notekeeping.
This story is being written by a mysterious bard who has been writing about the [Axiom] as a group and as individuals.
The story begins on the 5th day of Ent, year 1442. Long time friends rejoin in hope of obtaining a piece of a dragon's hoard and make names for themselves. Malvorn, Wolfgang, Sadamar and Dor meet at Haven's Shadow and prepare to set out on the journey into the Shadow Haven mountain.
Chapter 1 - Of Light, Lawyers, and Lurking
Chapter 2 - Of Betrayal, Dice, and Death
Chapter 3 - Of Merchandise, Maps, and Magic
She was laughing, her smooth face blazoned with a bright, gleeful smile. Her eyes shone with mad delight.
"I did it!"
A crackling. A rip. A sudden snap. Elusha shrieked and, in a flash of light and shadow, she was gone.
And still her final cry echoed in his ears.
Years later, miles away, Hawkins Mackenzie awoke from his reverie. Before him was the customary ale. Around him, a bar maddened with panic. The echoing shrieks came from a street outside.
He shook his head: was in Riverguard, where plague had broken out.
Recovering from his dreams, Hawkins moved as though in daze. For every action, there is an equal and opposing reaction. The cure to this poison would rest in the church.
He feet moved him, casually observing the screaming crowds that streamed past him. Fire ahead. Salvation behind. Into the fire, just as she had done.
Guards approached him, demanding his gear for their use. Lies. Let's not engage them. Breaking into a run, his adrenaline fueled his flight.
This way! Came the haughty, serpentine voice of his old, true friend.
Guide me, Lord Avranon.
His dimunitive patron nestled upon a high arch within the church, blending with the stone, noticed by none. It was still a safe place, crowded with people seaking safety and healing. Hawkins entered the large room, secure in his protection.
From forth the crowd trod two riders, haughty as Avranon and gleaming in armor, lit by the light of a strange lantern. They cornered the newcomer, the leathered one holding Hawkins at swordpoint. At behest of the lantern bearer, a light shone out over all in room.
He felt his will shrivel beneath a choir of light. A scream from the unhallowed soul at his back signified that they had been compromised. The sword rippled in green light.
"Who are you?"
And though he tried his old story, Hawkins' tongue let loose his innermost truth.
" I am a wizard trained and sanctioned from Andras. I hold in my possession a powerful sword from the barbarian lands, bound by magic, holding a force of incredible rage and darkness. Hidden in your church, my familiar, the impish pseudodragon, Avranon"
The what? Call me Imp once more, please. Please." An image of a cruel sting and a deadly poison. I need not sleep like you.