The Companions The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Hordus Blackforge was born and raised (for a time) in the dwarven nation of Thorbardin located in southwestern Ansalon beneath the Kharolis Mountains. On his first mining expedition with his father, the section of tunnel that he and his brother were in collapsed.

Covered by rocks, unable to move or see for what seemed like days, all the while listening to his brother dying somewhere nearby. "In reality it did not take a full day for miners to dig him free". He had never been confined in a space this small, unable to move, gasping for breath, with little to no visibility. By the time help arrived to rescue him, his brother was dead.

Afterwords, life had become a struggle with Hordus dealing with the incident and his brothers death. His sleep patterns became erratic, waking up at all hours of the night with recurring dreams of his friend dying and him being unable to do anything about it. He and his brother were very close and his death hit Hordus hard. It got to the point to where he needed a candle or oil lamp lit to be able to sleep. As time went on, it went from a single candle to more candles that one could count. Hordus stopped going into the mines after this accident, finding one excuse after another to keep himself clear of the mines.

Hordus eventually left home at an early age "unable to tolerate the concerned looks from his peers". He can usually be found in the southern region of Abanasinia. Preferring the outdoors, he tends to travel across the region lending aide when possible to those in need of it. Since he prefers to live an isolated life, he usually doesn't stay in one place for long, living mainly in the outdoor wilderness region of Abanasinia, most recently, he has been perfprming merchant caravan duty in and out of New Ports, after befriending several people from the region.

For the most part, Hordus is your typical every day Dwarf, grumbling, never satisfied with his work and loves working with his hands. He took up wood carving at a young age and it has stuck with him over the years. He enjoys relaxing outdoors smoking his pipe and whittling wood. He tends to enjoy the "drink" a little more than he should. He is still coming to terms with the death of his brother.

Hordus is easy to talk with and is very open minded, and if asked, he swears he is getting better with not having constant lights on in order to sleep. True or not, Hordus prefers to remain above ground whenever possible but his phobia does not prevent him from traveling beneath the surface "it just takes a bit of convincing and persuasion".

Most recently, Hordus has been traveling with friends in Abanasinia between New Ports and Haven, escorting merchant wagons across the region in an attempt to earn a meager living.

The story of Elora Dawn starts with her awakening in a ditch on the side of the road in the north eastern regions of Abanasinia. Something horrible had happened, only she does not know what it was. As she regained consciousness and looked around, she had no idea where she was. On the road next to where she lay was three smoldering wagons. Apparently the wagons had been attacked and she had somehow been knocked unconscious. She climbed from the muddy ditch to inspect the wagons only to find several people lying dead in various locations around the three wagons along with three dead goblins.

She did not recognize any of them, this was when she realized she had no memory of her past, but she did notice a name engraved on her money pouch "Elora Dawn" which she assume was her name. She gathered herself and began the walk down the road until she arrived at the small settlement of Ravenvale and rented a room at the Ravenvale Inn where she stayed for a week while she gathered her thoughts.

Upon getting settled into her room, she began rummaging through her various packs, looking through papers she had stored. Apparently she had started a journal only days before the attack on the wagons. As she read she found out a lot about herself the first few pages of her journal that explained her personality and mannerisms in great detail.

What she was able to gather from her documents is as follows . . .

Elora's most prominent features include her Prodigiousness and cleverness. She is levelheaded, book-smart, and always very logical. She is often very outspoken, not afraid to say what she feels yet unfailingly dutiful and loyal to her friends—a person who can always be counted on but she does however have occasions where she lets her "snippy" attitude out. Elora never strays off the path she always keeps her attention focused on the job that must be done.

She apparently had no regrets in life even though she doesn't remember any of her past life. She has other ambitions and felt the only way to accomplish those was to leave and set out on her own (it does not say where she left from though).

Despite Elora's intelligence and outspoken attitude, she has quite a lot of vulnerability in her personality, as well as a sense of insecurity underneath, feeling, utterly inadequate... and to compensate, she strives to be the best at everything, projecting a confidence where in fact little exists.

Elora has a deep love for the outdoors and nature and hopes soon to be able to explore the world and educate herself on the lands and its people. Leaving her home was hard for her (wherever home was). Over that last few months she has found an inner peace while exploring the lands of Abanasinia, especially since she has met her new traveling companions that befriended her. Her memory loss bothers her, not knowing who she is or where she came from is an irritating mystery to say the least.

Since coming to terms with her memory loss, she has sense fell into her roll with her new group of friends and has began traveling with her new companions with hopes of finding answers to who she actually is. She has since started following the teachings of Mishakal.

Ready For Content The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Ready For Content The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Ready For Content The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Ready For Content The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Merwellyn Wood The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

Merwellyn Wood is less a forest and more a suffocating tomb, its deceptive beauty a crumbling mask over a festering heart of decay. On its northern border, gnarled and twisted trees press against the blighted, fetid swamps of Xak Tsaroth, their moss-draped limbs like skeletal fingers, clawing at the sun to keep its warmth from penetrating the gloom.

Within, a pervasive and oppressive dampness hangs in the air, a humid weight that clings to a person's skin and clothes, never fully drying, and encouraging the earth itself to breathe out a thick, earthy vapor promising slow disintegration. Arrowgum branches twist into a claustrophobic maze, their dark, watchful intent mirrored by the coiling bellbird vines that twitch in the periphery like a waiting predator.

It is a place where ancient pines and oaks cast deep shadows that feel less like shelter and more like a malignant presence. In this morbid quiet, one can sometimes hear the restless sighs and echoing sobs of the dead—the ghosts of those lost to the Cataclysm's flood and the brutal Shadow Years that followed. These are not mere echoes, but spectral whispers that sometimes flicker just beyond the edge of sight, forever reliving their demise. This is not a place of natural peace, but an unnatural stillness so profound that the snap of a twig becomes an intrusion, a promise that your trespass has not gone unnoticed. The woods hold their breath, and so, too, does anyone with the misfortune to cross its grim threshold.

Instead of merely stating the forest's edge borders the fetid swamps of Xak Tsaroth, a description might offer more detail. The moss-draped trees aren't just trying to block out the light, but perhaps their twisted branches are like skeletal fingers, grasping and clawing at the sun, desperate to pull it into the endless gloom. The air near the swamp might taste of old decay and stagnant water.

The suffocating dampness can be further described using sensory imagery. Rather than just causing rot, the humidity might feel like a heavy, living thing that clings to a person's clothes and skin, never fully drying. The ground itself, perpetually moist, could be described as breathing a thick, earthy vapor that promises slow, steady disintegration.

The trees and vines could be further personified. Perhaps the gnarled roots of ancient vallenwood trees writhe across the forest floor like slumbering serpents. The bellbird vines, rather than just coiling, might twitch in the periphery, mimicking the slow, deliberate movements of a predator ready to strike. Even the ancient pine needles could seem to whisper ancient, half-forgotten secrets, carried on a cold breeze that smells of damp earth and decay.

The ghostly element could be intensified, moving beyond the simple mention of screams. The ghostly echoes could not only be heard, but their spectral forms might be glimpsed in the dappled shadows—flickering shapes of lost souls perpetually reliving their final moments. An unfortunate traveler might feel a sudden, inexplicable cold spot, as if a long-dead person just walked through them.

This unnatural quiet can be made more menacing by contrasting it with the normal sounds of a forest. The silence isn't peaceful, but heavy and expectant, as if the entire forest is holding its breath. The sudden, jarring crack of a twig underfoot or a bird's frantic cry for a split second becomes an intrusion, a signal that something has noticed your presence and is waiting. It's the kind of silence that makes one's own heartbeat thunder in their ears, each beat counting down to some unseen terror.

The Cursed Lands The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman

The Cursed Lands surrounding Xak Khalan are a testament to the enduring power of rot and corruption, a landscape where even the memory of a thriving city has been suffocated by decay. The air itself, a humid, cloying weight, tastes of rust and sulfur, a constant reminder of the poisonous bogs that lie in wait for the unwary. Underfoot, the ground is a deceitful thing, appearing solid beneath a carpet of sickly green moss, but quick to give way into a sucking mire that threatens to claim any who stray from the few treacherous, half-submerged paths.

Here, the remnants of Xak Khalan's street grid are like a skeletal finger-work beneath a veil of grime, with ancient, waterlogged stones occasionally breaking the surface like tombstones for a forgotten civilization. The flora of this place seems as cursed as the land itself. Twisted, grasping "ironclaw" trees stand like skeletal guardians at the marsh's edge, their bark perpetually slick with moisture and their branches ending in menacing, hooked thorns.

Aggressive, fast-spreading marsh grasses choke the waterways and entangle the ruins, their pale, fleshy stalks promising only entrapment and lurking beneath the surface of the stagnant, algae-covered ponds are unseen, dangerous creatures, their presence only betrayed by the occasional ripple or the sudden, violent death of a bird foolish enough to drink from the corrupted water.

This is a land of morbid stillness, where the echoes of the Cataclysm and the corrupting presence of the black dragon Khisanth have left a lingering miasma of despair. It is a place where every shadow holds a threat and every step is a gamble against the grasping earth.

The Cursed Lands are a breeding ground for foul and dangerous creatures, corrupted by the lingering evil of the black dragon Khisanth and the ever-present miasma of the swamp. While the great dragon herself is gone, her influence persists, twisting the landscape and its inhabitants into hostile, venomous caricatures of their former selves. Draconic monsters like the greedy Baaz draconians are a common threat, often encountered alongside their reptilian kin, such as mutated lizardfolk tribes who perform brutal rituals in the deepest parts of the marsh.

Enormous and cunning giant crocodiles lurk in the fetid waters, while giant, venomous snakes and monstrous blood-sucking leeches inhabit the murky depths and dense vegetation, posing a constant threat to travelers. The swamp is also haunted by the restless dead, including ghosts and revenants of those lost during the Cataclysm, and the dark magic animating these lands has given rise to bog mummies—soggy, corrupted horrors that shamble through the ruin-choked mire.

In addition, cunning and predatory froghemoths, catgators, and swarms of stirges now thrive here, joining the ranks of disease-ridden animals mutated by the swamp's corruption, ensuring that the Cursed Lands remain a place of constant peril for any who dare enter.

The region surrounding Xak Tsaroth and Xak Khalan is known as the Cursed Lands due to a confluence of two cataclysmic events: the devastation of the world-shattering Cataclysm and the subsequent, prolonged presence of the evil black dragon, Khisanth. The Cataclysm brought with it a divine punishment that submerged much of the area in a great deluge, drowning the city of Xak Tsaroth and forever transforming the landscape into a putrid bog filled with the restless spirits of the dead. In the wake of this initial blight, the black dragon Khisanth established her lair within the submerged, cavernous ruins, infusing the already damaged land with her potent and corrupting dark magic for generations.

Her malicious influence twisted the flora and fauna, attracting wicked creatures like draconians and turning the swamp into a toxic breeding ground for monsters and disease. Thus, the name "Cursed Lands" is a bitter testament to the enduring scars of the gods' fury and the lingering evil of a black dragon, a name earned through centuries of decay, death, and relentless corruption.

Ready For Content The Cataclysm & The War of the Lance The current year for our Dragonlance campaign is set during 351 AC "After Cataclysm". Inspired By Trampas Whiteman