Escape from Monthos Vil

By | April 20, 2013

Hello everyone!

Today, Ray Watters will be presenting the Escape from Monthos Vil adventure module at the Raleigh Tabletop Roleplaying Game Master’s Fair.  This is an introductory adventure paired with some Quickstart Rules allowing players to get a feel for the Infinite Earths roleplaying game and have a great time doing it.  I leave you with the adventure’s cover, by the incredible Juan Ochoa, and the introductory text:

juanochoa_monthosvil

The War of Sorrows is lost.

Kalador Hawksoul, Hero of the North, is dead.

The Ninth Legion is broken, smashed by the battalions under the command of Lord Züthe, the greatest general of the King of Sorrows. Arkady Trollhammer, last hope of Ilmathoré, is missing. There is nothing left standing between the Undying Army and the shining capital of Amarantha.

You were there at the last battle, at Coro Idalia. The battalion was moving up to flank the Undying Army when it turned from its course and headed inexplicably southeast. You were caught unawares.

Whenever you close your eyes, you remember the Turned marching toward you, their numbers blotting out the horizon in a purple-black bruise. You can still hear the whispering of the Undying Army, gibbering away as they stabbed and slashed and pressed forward relentlessly. You remember watching your friends cut down. And you remember them standing back up, turning their weapons against you, black coral growing out of their wounds. Whispering. Join us, join us, one of us, come to us.

Marshal Garolf called the retreat. He ordered you to go back to your homes, go back to your families, and flee into the dawning sun. He told you to pray, and pray, because mortal hands could not stop the onslaught. And then he fled. You all fled.

That was a week ago.

You’re only a couple of hours from home, now. You lost your horses four days ago when you were ambushed by scouts of the Undying Army. You won, barely. And you burned the bodies to keep them from standing back up. As they burned, as the black coral shriveled and died, they were still whispering.

Züthe. . .Züthe. . .Züthe!

Over the next rise, you dared to look back whence you’d come. You saw the Turned marching toward you, their numbers blotting out the horizon in a purple-black bruise. You’d gained time riding your horses. Now you are no faster than them.

The Undying Army is coming. Züthe is coming.

You have three days.

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