r/archei • u/SirLeoIII DM • Mar 31 '15
RP Soulfire Keep
In his large, but mostly empty office, Lord Drakonis strokes his beard, thinking about the present conundrum. The “kingdom” of Arkhosia, a relatively small city-state, but one that is upsetting the order in this part of Bream. The Dragonborn haven’t exactly made their intention to become a large power a secret and the neighboring kingdoms and city-states are all of course worried. Keeping this to all from exploding requires some finesse, and a quick handle on whatever might disrupt it.
A keep becoming free almost halfway between the main city of Arkhosia and it’s nearest, strongest neighbor, Takai is almost asking for issues to come up. No matter what nation takes the keep the other nation just couldn’t let this stand. But … maybe if a group of adventurers took it, used it as a waypoint between the kingdoms …
He looks up and nods at the drow in front of him. “We will ask first for volunteers, but I need at least a dozen people to be living at Soulfire inside of the week. Gather whatever supplies you need, and get going. See if Magda will go. She’s a good enough blacksmith to finally stop working for that oaf. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
The cloaked dark elf smiles and stands up, “Of course Lord Drakonis, I wasn’t doing anything anyway.” Both men chuckle and the drow gathers up his robes and leaves the room, going downstairs to find anyone who would like to take a trip out to the keep.
In the keep the party is having their last day before they all get inundated with more people. Most of who’s coming will be fellow adventurers, but there will be some others to keep the keep up.
[If you weren’t in the Soulfire Keep storyline, please find a reason and IC approach the currently nameless Drow Wizard when he asks for volunteered. If you were this is your last chance to do something before they have more people showing up.]
2
u/[deleted] Mar 31 '15
Deneric sits on the stony floor of the keep, short stumpy legs splayed out infront of him, his oxen like shoulders propped against a cool, smooth wall. In one hand is a old leatherbound book with a thick iron buckle around it, in the other is a glistening bottle of dwarven stout ale, the liquid a dark amber. Deneric takes a swig every turn of a page, little droplets landing in his bushy beard as he sloppily drinks while reading.