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The Flight of Hope

Prologue

It has been hundreds of years since the time of myth and legend, chivalry and all that. The last great heroes lived more than a millennia ago. Already, the world has forgotten those who they owe the most. Almost everyone has forgotten, except for me. I, and I alone remember. I knew them. Not just from fairy tales told the Dwarven children or dusty tomes from a wizard’s library; I knew them as the living, breathing people that they were. I strive to keep them alive in the only way I know. But really, who listens to a crotchety old historian? I have naught to offer to anyone anymore except this one old, sad tale. I have nothing to do but sit and tell it. I live for nothing more but to write it. From the Marakata Vale to the Great Plains, the maritime Empire of Cormyr was by far one of the most powerful countries in all of Morotoz! Situated right on the Kitral Sea, Cormyr was a huge trading power and had sailing routes to both Barqu and the Elven country of Firouzeh. The Cormyrian Empire had been at peace for almost a hundred years. Then, almost a century after the Great War, a new peril threatened to shatter the peace – and the very face of the world. Earthquakes riddled the land and volcanoes raged that had lain dormant for hundreds of years. Tidal waves shredded coastal communities and cyclones ripped through the countryside. These events were nothing compared to what would come. So here we sit, young adventurer. Pull up a chair, grab a tankard, and get ready for the story that built your world.” — Akor Silverbeard, The Historian
A cool wind blows and the mighty trees creak. The forest on either side is alive with a cacophony of noises. Monkeys, birds, and unidentified sounds contribute to the clamor. After turning a sharp bend in the road, a city suddenly appears, standing out like a sore thumb on a troll. Our adventure begins in the small town of Silverglade. Its dense jungle and balmy breezes, combined with its relative distance from any major city, makes it a popular stopping point for people of all backgrounds that need to lay low. Ironically, its increasing popularity over the years has almost doubled the city’s size and it now boasts more than eleven hundred permanent residents. Before the boom, its whole economy was agricultural, farming what few things would grow in the shadows of the tall trees. Now, it bustles with trade from the most obscure places. What really matters, though, and what brings our focus to this obscure point on the map is the Quicksilver Pub. It boasts the title of being the oldest building in town. In our time though, the place is actually a museum. Never been there? Quicksilver Pub is nestled between a temple to Moradin and a smithy to one of the town’s blacksmiths. After you get past the “No detections” sign hanging above the entryway and away from the smog from the neighboring smithy, the atmosphere completely changes. To your left is a long bar with several patrons downing ale and exchanging banter. Lining the wall to the right are a series of soundproof private booths for business or open conversation. The room is strewn with tables of various sizes, shapes, and materials. The pub almost appears to be bigger on the inside than the outside! Here, a place where elves gather to drink the finest mead and humans frequent to grab a bite, is where our adventure starts. Whilst talking over mugs of ale, a kobold darts into the room, over tables, and dives through the doorway behind the bar. This doesn’t cause much of a disturbance until three more kobolds run into the room. The bartender nabs one, but the other two escape behind the door. Some of the people in the tavern, a half-elf, a shifter, a half-orc, a warforged, and a halfling, take the initiative to descend the stairs behind the door. Little did they know, they were taking their first steps into an even greater adventure…

Comments

Epic enough? :}

Prologue
Edio

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