Your ship has crashed into side of abandoned castle not on the map, sticking out of the waters, alongside an ocean shore… The tower- and the ship exploded in a great shower of light and fire- turning night to day for a few minutes time… The crew is all dead.. Your items- strewn across the rubble..
Strange, eroded sigils upon the sides of the watery towers glow for an hour, providing a shadowy light.
At dawn, a well dressed old man, and deeply cloaked and shrouded person, four large, well armed and armored guards come to the beach. They are making no effort to be stealthy, speaking in loud, but wavering voices..
“An airship wreck… Hasn’t been one seen since… nigh 120 or more harvests ago?”… See if there’s survivors… Or salvage… Where could one have been from… Thought they were but legends..
As they grow closer- you hear the alarm in their voices rise- “The tower… The towers seals has been shattered.. Must be reported as soon as possible.. The townships will have to be warned..
The old man- Staven Gemanson A member of the town Council(Embedded image moved to file: pic32145.jpg) Curious and Imaginative, he seeks to restore the world. Wears mithril chain beneath his wealthy clothes- fine spun silks and finely crafted leather breaches, silver and ivory buttons adorn his clothes. He stands just over 6.5’ tall- his hair a mane of tousled gold and silver streaked hair- eyes as green as emeralds.
The Cloaked one- Arken Smetborn Local Mage- said to be from a land far to the east, A smokey crystal orb as well as staff seem to be the only things upon His person aside from the voluminous robes. Face a fluid shifting crescent of skin, barely visible within the deep Hood. The Cloak appears to be made of a simple farm-spun cloth, but moves At times like silk- and others like stone..
The Guards- Half plate, inlaid with copper glyphs – adorns their bodies. Each is within A half of a hand of each other in height, their shields all tower- outlined in Glyphs, but blank in the centers. Thick riding hoods of Gray cover their Shoulders and heads. Their hair is salt and peppered and greased – pulled back to a tail that is tied to their Armor on their left shoulder.A helmet sits near their hip- pinned by shield and Arm. Large metal plate neckguards protect the soft neck. They carry a long, wickedly barbed long bladed spear upon their backs, A Long and short sword on either hip & four long daggers down either thigh. Their walk is in unison.. These are seasoned veterans, and though the years may Have touched their deeply lined and scarred faces- they still move well.
The men inspect your wounds (if any), and the Cloaked one inspects the tower silently.. The old man begs your tale- asking your destination, where from you came, etc. If you tell him you are from Nimbral, he is doubtful- and cautions you to not repeat such myths… But if it’s true-
Regardless, that you need to aid them here in the new troubles your ship has brought them… For they need trained types such as yourselves- men and women of action, of capability..