Eberron Campaign

Welcome to your campaign!
A blog for your campaign

Wondering how to get started? Here are a few tips:

1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

2. Edit your home page

Make a few changes to the home page and give people an idea of what your campaign is about. That will let people know you’re serious and not just playing with the system.

3. Choose a theme

If you want to set a specific mood for your campaign, we have several backgrounds to choose from. Accentuate it by creating a top banner image.

4. Create some NPCs

Characters form the core of every campaign, so take a few minutes to list out the major NPCs in your campaign.

A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.

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PreEpisode 1
And so it begins...

Trapped. We are all prisoners here…days are spent actively awaiting torture and beatings, if we’re lucky. Death if we are not. We’ve come to know and realize that there are WORSE things than torture and death…

The young and the weak are not spared the torture, or the beatings. We are all young. We are Different. Dragonmarks have made themselves known…as they have manifested upon each of us. Therefore, we must be studied…such as a predatory bird might study its prey. We are objects. We are less than persons. We are like so many insects under the onslaught of implements of pain and magicks.

Some pray for deliverance from this pain. Some pray for death. And for some…the latter h4. Your title here…is blissfully granted.

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PreEpisode 2
Hated Tarik...and the art of pain

They say Mom never spoke of the attack…but she bore the scars from it until she died. In childbirth. Giving birth to me. An abomination of elf and demon.

My elven father never forgave me for mom’s death. I was different. I was “of him that had hurt her”. I’d been the tool that finished the job. I was to be resented. Abhored. To be endured…only, because she would have wanted it that way.

I’d been born a Tiefling. Half elf, half…evil thing to be hated. I kept my hair long, so my small horns were not seen. I could usually pass for an elf…but I was taller than strictly average, possessed of lean muscle, and an unnatural intelligence. My skin was a bit darker than normal, and almost translucent. After dark, I was told my red-brown eyes reflected the night sky similar to those of a large hunting cat. And as if I wasn’t already “different enough”…I also possessed a small, scaled, reptilian tail.

We moved frequently, my dad taking odd, meaningless jobs…until folks realized who he was, or who or what I was. Despite my best efforts to hide beneath a cowls, cloaks and baggy clothes, I would inevitably be seen for the abomination that I was. A farmer once told me why his animals were uneasy around me…”Boy, you have the look and smell of a predator”. Not a pleasant analogy, but it was good to at least be acknowledged by another being. My father merely sneered at me when that had happened…ashamed that I’d been noticed at all.

I can remember the day my dad took his own life. He stared at me as he did so…a blade to his wrists, his eyes filled with tears. But his eyes were cold…so cold. Completely without compassion or remorse. I was 11.

I was in and out of orphanages for years following. No one wanted the responsibility of raising me, being near me. I was often beaten by staff members. I escaped when I could, found other cities and other orphanages when winter came. I was bullied…always bullied. Persecuted for being different. I was bigger, faster, stronger, more intelligent than others my age…and was resented for it. And I was “different”. I honestly tried to help others, if for no other reason than to atone for the fact that I existed at all. Few others would accept my help. Many feared me, most hated me. Sometimes when I was ganged up on, I’d respond…with fierce words of hate. Bad things…unexplainable things would sometimes happen to those I’d been angry with. It felt good to lash out…physically…mentally, but with it too came shame…for in those moments, I would become that which they most wanted me to be. A monster…

Unable to cope with public perception, and refusing to give my dad’s ghost an ounce of satisfaction…I struck out on my own at 13. Alone.

One late summer day, I was sleeping near a remote mountain lake. It was an ancient and peaceful place, of solid stone and earth. I attempted to start a fire, and it jumped to life. The air was sweet and clean, the wind a gentle caress. Everything seemed so…wild. Untamed. I spent several blissful and tranquil weeks in the grotto there. Over time, I was visited by…a presence. No name, no words…just…a presence. An understanding took place…although I had no way to prove it, for we’d not communicated. At least not in the traditional sense. The presence took nothing, and promised even less…but when I awoke the next morning, I felt different. I can’t explain why or how, only that it felt as if…something had awoken within me.

At 15, I was captured stealing food one winter, and beaten terribly. Was again put in an “orphanage”, but this time that was really just a fancy term for a “jail for young folks”. I wasn’t quite as alone here, as I was bigger than others—I was treated with a sort of distant respect, only because I was an ally of sorts. There was no loyalty there, however. Kids here were periodically sold into slavery, or as mercenaries—there wasn’t time or the desire to make more of the situation.

One day we were awoken early, yanked from bed, and examined…like cattle. Three of us were taken. We “had the mark”, they had said. I didn’t know what they’d meant, at the time. Now I understand that my dragonmark had begun to reveal itself high up on my chest and left shoulder.

I welcomed the location change, at first. But soon realized these were cruel people. They experimented on us, with science and magicks. Some of us died from the abuse, some were damaged mentally. Some few of us responded in different ways. The experiments were terrible, but amid the agony—subtle powers revealed themselves to me…shadows in particular, but even the elements seemed aware of my proximity. Stone, air and water, even fire…it felt as though they could sense me the way my senses were aware of them. I’ve not experimented with these powers, I’ve kept them hidden from my cruel masters, mostly because I don’t know how they’d react. But something has changed within me. And perhaps without, as well. Over time, I grew to enjoy the pain. In ways I don’t fully understand…the alertness of my surroundings and of those around me grew as well.

I think there may be a way out of here, am pretty sure I have a fair chance of escape. But I won’t go without the others. I’m not fooling myself, I have no friends here…but no one deserves this. Perhaps I can even the score…make a difference. Repent. Repent for…for just having been born at all…

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PreEpisode 3
Skall, and the art of sanity. Trust me, Sanity is over-rated...

You see a gnome sitting in the corner of the cell, slightly mumbling to himself. When a guard walks by you might hear him say “Size 9 1/2, iron shod, about 2 years old.”

He’s sort of a permanent fixture here. Been there for as long as you have, in fact he might have been one of the first.

The guards don’t bother him or take him as much as they do everyone else. Sometimes they’ll beat him unconscious and take him, but often when come to take him…he looks up menacingly and you could swear his eyes actually turn red. The guards scurry away towards easier targets, often nervously mumbling something about “the incident”…

He seems nice enough, introduces himself as Skall, then mumbles something like, “I wonder if Owlbear skin can be tanned.” He is dark haired, very very slim build, as if he’s been starved, chained up, or otherwise contained for far too long. But there’s just something about him. He’s almost magnetic. And warm, I mean actually warm, like standing next to a cooling oven.

When the walls start shaking he looks up smiling. It’s time to go…

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PreEpisode 4
Carth and the art of coming of age...

My father was a ship captain named Charles “Bull” Cerin and my mother was a dervish dancer from a faraway desert named Mirta Dawnflower. Though her skin was dark, her hair was white, which she passed on to me. I was told that we had angle blood in our line. Growing up I took after her and she taught me the dervish ways, but I never developed the same devotion to her Gods. When I was 13 my father set sail and I never saw him again. Over the years I heard rumors of a rogue corsair ship named the Rooster’s Dawn, which was my father’s ship. When I was 16 I signed on for my first ship. I was out for over a year. That first voyage was when my mark first appeared. I did not even notice it. It was the crew that pointed it out. They said it was a bad sign. When I finally made it home my mother was gone. A friend of the family said she went to find my father. I lived on my own, but no ship would have me on account of my mark, so I sang and preformed for my income.

One night when I was 19 I was attacked and taken. The men would not say why, and the journey was long. Eventually I ended up in a cell in some castle. There were a few kids already in the cell, with more coming over time. Our captors experimented on us, me most of all. Of course it was my fault. I constantly antagonized the guards and sought their ire. I could not stand by and let them hurt all these kids. I volunteered whenever they came to take someone. Sometimes it worked and sometimes I ended up spitting blood from the guard’s fist. I tried to keep people’s spirit up. I sang songs, and if I managed to get a full night of sleep I healed a few wounds. Something was happening with these experiments though; I found that I could purify food and water, even the worst most rotten kind. I think that saved a lot of people. It looks like our captors brought in some adults. They look capable. Maybe this is our chance to escape.

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PreEpisode 5
Arvin Tandoor...and the arts of faith and truth

Oh lord, I know it has been some time since we spoke, but I need your strength. These monsters did something to that little girl in the cell next to mine. Why did they focus on her? Whatever they are trying to get out of these wretched marks is causing so much pain. WHAT the HELL did she do? She was just 11, maybe 12, so young. I wish I could have traded spaces with her. I pleaded to them to take me instead, but they just laughed at me and took her anyway. Oh god, those screams, those terrible terrible screams………………sobs. I don’t think she is coming back………..sobs. I think her fire is gone from this world. Lord, please watch after her soul.

I was not strong enough to save her, but I’ll be dammed if a fate like this befalls another one of these poor souls stuck here with me. I am ready to stand up and fight. No more, will I let them take these good people away and do their experiments. These are not men, they are animals. Carrion of the worst kind, and they need to be stopped. Monsters like them do not deserve to live among us. All they do is pray on the weak and powerless. These evil things must be ended.

The monks have enlightened me and gave me new purpose in my life. I now have hope that I can help protect those who can’t do so for themselves. You must have guided me to them after having to leave the Abby. They did not think ill of me for not having nothing to offer them in trade when arriving at their monastery. They have lit a fire in my heart that will burn bright for a very long time.

I never received any kind of encouragement from those that lived at the Abbey. Brother Maynard and many of the others did not view us orphans as anything but slaves. I do not hate Brother Maynard, as his teachings did bring me to you. I even understand why he turned me in after discovering this mark. However, he was wrong, and I could have done great things for the abbey if given the chance. I truly wish he would start thinking of others as much as he thinks for himself. He seems very power hungry, you should keep an eye on him.

You know that I will not stray from your light, but I must forge my own path now. I……………..I hear a battle going on. Wait, did you send someone to aid us lord? Will I get a chance to AVENGE that little girl? Oh lord, please give me the chance to overcome this evil and right the wrongs they have placed on us.

Oh shit…….what is that?

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They're Back!
Skall's Musings - 1
I had the dream again last night. I know it was because I saw them again. I’m sure they are not the same ones, but they all look alike, so who knows. It would explain why they were so reluctant to surrender. Suffer a goblin to live? Never! That Paladin girl ain’t that bad, but she doesn’t understand. None of them really do. It was those big eared, big smile, green skin bastards that killed my parents and sold me to the long legs. For two years I suffered due to those little ankle biters. I’ll not be captured again. I tried to leave it alive, but leave it alone and let it continue to hurt people. I don’t think so. The trifling gave me a nice big snake skin. I might try to make some shoes for that Dancing Dude. The slick skin would sure make him move smoother. Once I get strong enough I can put a little glimmer on them. I’m sure of it. Each day we’ve been free I feel a little stronger, but I doubt I’ll ever get back to the way I was. This twisted scarred body will be my reminder to be stronger, be better, and strike first. It’s a long road outta here, but we’ll see what comes. In the mean time, burn baby burn.
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Episode One: Opportunities Arise
Of isolation and crumbling stone...

The attack came from above…the old keep thrumming with each resonating beat. It was interesting at first, just a rhthmic beat that was at the edge of our senses.

Then it grew louder…and dust began to fall.

When the upper level collapsed down the stairwell going up, it also damaged the walls of the cell area. A few of us were able to break free of their cells, and thankfully took the time to release those of us that were physically able to attempt escape as well. It was an odd sensation, those first few minutes…a small taste of freedom that felt so alien on the tongue. There were eight of us, I think. We rallied together, fashioned a handfull of makeshift weapons, and set out as a group to find a way out.

We were lucky at first, we found food and water, even clothing. We encountered some giant rats at one point. Looking back, these were a cakewalk compared to what we would find later…

We realized no one could come to us due to the area of the collapse, but we were ready to be free of the keep. One of us—I’m still learning their names—discovered a crack in the wall that showed a possible way out (was a hollow space behind that wall). Several had some experience, and proved useful. There’s two Aasimar, a gnome, a couple humans…and just the one abomination. Me.

We set up watches and took turns trying to break down the wall. One small gnome among us…Skall I think his name is, is a magic user of some sort, and appears to be an excellent judge of footware.

We fought our way through some undead, and I got paired up with a giant cockroach-looking creature…I hit it very hard with my makeshift club, but it really beat the mess out of me. I was down on one knee about to check out when two of our group came back to assist me…me! We managed to slay all the creatures, and one or two of us have some healing abilities. We walked for ours, but couldn’t escape the tunnels and be free of this Keep. The following day, we discovered a massive cavern, dissected by a not too small flowing river. One highly dexterous member, I forget his name, was a strong swimmer. It wasn’t easy, or without danger, but he and eventually the rest of us, made it across. I think it was at this point that we realized we’d lost one of our group along the way, in our haste to be free of this place.

We took watches, and relied on one another to conquer obstacles. We have a sense of unified purpose…escape…that drives us on to exhaustion. Am unsure if it will last, there is some testiness between a member or two, but it could be worse.

One potential escape lie through a cavern guarded by an intimidating looking creature. He looked capable and had real weapons and armor…we were pursuaded to take another way. The other way involved Goblins, snakes, and spiders—and not necessarily in that order! We seem to be just strong enough to overcome obstacles and creatures, but we’ve relied on luck quite a bit. We found a glistening underground water source that appeared to have healing properties, but we seem to have used up it’s power resting in and consuming it. We’re still “almost” lost in the goblin caverns, and will soon be forced to rest again…

So far, I’ve been treated almost as an equal. How long will this last is anyone’s guess, but we’re making due as a group thus far…our skill sets seem to complement one another.

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