mystique426

[mystique426]

The Creeds - a short poem

The following is a short poem written for in-character lore given to the players of my current campaign:

The Rogue Archdevil, cunning and clever, brewed up a scheme to change the Hells forever. Usurping the Cloven proved no simple task, but it was not for this crime that away Prince Levistus was cast; eternally trapped in a fortress of ice with nothing but his mind to keep him occupied. The families three were picked for their specialties: the Xuarn handled the treasury, investing in research and armies to make back tenfold; the Tahoack bred warriors for the frontlines of Avernus; the Creed dealt in contracts, and ensured they were always paid in full.

A tyrannical fiend was the head of the Creed; he took what he wanted whenever he pleased. His sights he set upon the icy throne, and bred a personal army to make it his own. Deals with powerful denizens of the Hells gave him spawn to spare; only those with potential cultivated their powers with care. While most Creed kids kept their heads low, one stood above and defied the status-quo.

Nethrei cut off the root of his father’s power and, by proving his ignorance, brought about the fiend’s final hour. Nethrei and his siblings destroyed the fiend Asrodos, and together they took control of the House. With mortal champions assigned to his side, Stygia drowned in the Creed’s tide. Now the throne of Nessus looms over the horizon; nine lords for nine layers - a tale for the ages.

[mystique426]

DID - Chapter 2: Legacy Lost

Ar'Tarian and Nethrei emerged from the Blushing Mermaid and into the bustling streets of the Lower City of Baulder's Gate. It was late in the afternoon, so the streets were filled with people rushing off to destinations unknown. Ar'T took the lead - having grown up and lived in the city his entire life, it was second-nature to navigate the twisting alleyways. Eventually, the pair came to a large barn-like structure in the Brampton district.

"I don't suppose you've taken me here to try to secretly off me and dispose of my body, have you?" Nethrei laughed nervously as Ar'T slid the door open, revealing the one-roomed home to be empty and sparsely decorated. It contained a straw mat for sleeping, a greataxe leaning near the doorway, and a broken old shield hanging on the far wall.

"No. You wanted to know what happened, so I'm going to tell you," Ar'T explained. He gestured for Nethrei to sit somewhere on the floor as he began preparing a pot of lavender tea for the two of them. "My memory isn't as good as it used to be, so some of the details are a bit fuzzy," he said as he poured the tea into cups and handed one to Nethrei. Before seating himself next to his tiefling guest, he removed the broken wooden shield from its place on the wall and carried it over with him. Ar'T continued, "Vylhana was one of the three Lieutenants underneath the Captain, Astith. Vylhana and the other two, Caeser and Zira, turned against her; they lured her into an ambush and she died alone by their hands. . .I don't know which one of them actually killed her, but they all had something to do with it." Ar'Tarian turned the shield in his hands, staring wistfully down at the cracked wooden shield. He held it up to Nethrei and said, "She was using this when they ambushed her. I found it. . .after," his voice trailed off softly.

Nethrei thought for a few moments, reflecting in Ar'T's silence before speaking, "You're obviously familiar with your Captain's killers. Did you not pursue them when you figured out what they did?"

Ar'T shook his head, his shaggy mane waving with the movements. "I don't like killing for no reason; if I'm going to be shedding any blood, it's only going to be the one that actually killed Astith."

"That's even more of a reason to pursue them! You hunt them down and you make them tell you who did it, then you can kill the one they agree upon," Nethrei said giddily. "That's just my opinion on the matter, though."

"I'm not so sure about that. . ." Ar'T said, looking down at the shield again.

"Oh come now, it'll be a worthwhile endeavor to avenge her. I'll even help you!" Nethrei touched his hand to his chest. "You should be honored to have a Prince of the Hells accompany you."

"Prince of the Hells?"

"Oh, did I not mention?" Nethrei gave a sharp smirk and flicked a few stray hairs away from his face. "I was born and raised right in the Hells. My father is a rather prominent devil there; in fact, there's not a soul in Stygia who doesn't know his title."

"Oh. . .well good for you, I think," Ar'T said, considering Nethrei's words carefully. "I'm not sure how that's supposed to help, though."

Nethrei took a long sip of his tea, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "At least some of father's lessons have stuck after years of boorish study. My simple friend, I possess skills that are beyond your comprehension." With a flick of his wrist through the air, bright blue sparks flew from the tips of his fingers and drifted slowly down before disappearing again.

Ar'T felt something in the back of his mind urging him onward, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this person.

"What would you get out of all of this? You didn't know any of them," he asked. "This isn't your fight to finish."

"No, it certainly isn't," Nethrei responded swiftly, "but revenge is my specialty. Think of it this way: I'll help you now, and when we're finished here you'll help me find someone else to answer my questions."

Ar'T sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, running his fingers over the cracks in the shield. The desire to finally know the truth overcame the anxiety of confronting his once close allies as enemies, and he met Nethrei's eye with a cold and determined gaze.

"I know where we can start, then," he said, pulling himself up slowly. "We're going to the Helm and Cloak. We were often hired by nobles and merchants, so we would hang around where they liked to be." As he spoke, he grabbed the greataxe from beside the door, and he also pulled a sheathed greatsword from beneath the straw mat. He hesitated as he went to put the shield back in its place on the wall, and instead decided to bring the shield with him as well. Nethrei stood as well, brushing dirt from himself and straightening his armor. Ar'T led Nethrei out of the barn and back into the busy streets of Baulder's Gate.

[mystique426]

DID - Chapter One: Game, Set. . .

"Checkmate." The grizzled minotaur sat back and crossed his arms, a friendly grin stretching across his greying snout. The elven gentleman across from him seemed shocked for a moment before also leaning back with a smile.

"I'll have to admit, I'm impressed. Not many others can last more than twenty turns against me, let alone wipe the floor with me like that," he said, grabbing the pint from beside the Dragonchess board and taking a large gulp of its contents. "Where did you learn those skills, my friend?"

"There was a friend of mine who was good at Dragonchess. I took her up on her offer to teach me one day," the minotaur said, reflecting back on fond memories. Suddenly, there was another voice beside him; it was smooth and regal, with an air of importance.

"Well, I hope your mentor was as good as mine," this new voice said. Its source was a tiefling man with pale navy blue skin and bright white slicked back between bone-white horns topped with caps - one silver, and one hammered iron, each one intricately inlaid with gold - and decorated with garnet-encrusted hoops and intricately carved clasps. He had a simple saphire stud earring in his right ear. He wore a simple eyepatch over his left eye, and his leather armor was dyed a navy blue color. A pair of leathery wings rested half-open against his back, and a set of twin tails could be seen twitching playfully along the ground. "Sorry to interrupt your chat, but I would love to play a game against the old brute here. No offense."

The minotaur took a moment to answer, eyeing the creature in front of him. This man wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever seen by far, but the intrigue he felt couldn't be suppressed.

"Sure, I'll play against you," he paused briefly. "But, only if you tell me your name first." The tiefling took a step back from the booth and gave a deep flourishing bow, extending his wings and right arm.

"Nethrei Creed, at your service." His single glowing orange eye met the minotaur's once again.

"Ar'Tarian, but my friends just call me Ar'T." The old minotaur turned to the elven gentleman. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he responded, standing from his seat. "I should get going anyway; it's nearly dark, and the missus will be looking for me." He made his way out of the noisy bar, and Nethrai took his seat across from Ar'T. The game began simple enough; it seemed the two were evenly matched.

"I suppose I should be honest here; I didn't simply come over here to play a game with you," Nethrei admitted, delicately placing his pawn into place. "No, I'm after some information, and I believe you can help me."

"What could I possibly know that would help you?" Ar'T asked, sliding his knight to defend.

"I was told you might know something about a mercenary band in this city. . .the Dragon's Wrath?" Nethrei pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table; on it was accurately drawn the symbol of a hammer with horns protruding from either side.

"Where did you hear that name?" Ar'Tarian asked as his furry eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Nethrei chuckled softly as his bishop pushed up. "Let's say for now a little birdie flew by and whispered it in my ear."

Ar'T hesitated and sacrificed a pawn to Nethrei. "What did you want to know?"

"I'm looking for a certain someone among their ranks by the name of Vylhana, a half-elven caster. I heard she was quite skilled with her magic, and I was hoping to learn a thing or two from her," Nethrei explained. "I was told you were quite familiar with the more. . .prominent members."

"I haven't spoken to Vylhana in nearly ten years," Ar'T said flatly, trying to ignore the memories bubbling up in the back of his mind. "I don't recommend you do, either. She's not someone who can be trusted."

"Oh? How interesting. . .I suppose my sources must be outdated," sighed Nethrei as he confidently pushed his queen forward. "From what I understood, you were rather comfortable with the top brass. What changed?"

"I. . .I'm not sure," said Ar'T sadly, absentmindedly moving his rook. "I wasn't there when it happened."

"When what happened?" eagerly pressed the tiefling. Ar'T remained silent, staring at the board in front of him. Nethrei sighed and moved his queen once more.

"That will be checkmate, I'm afraid," he said, disappointment dripping from his words. "I did hope you could be more useful to me." He stood and began to walk away when Ar'T reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"I'll tell you, if you wouldn't mind coming with me. There's something I need to show you to tell this story," Ar'T said slowly, standing from the booth. Nethrei smiled and turned to face the minutaor towering several feet above him.

"You have yourself a deal, my friend."

[mystique426]

Nethrei Creed, a tiefling born and raised in the fifth layer of the Hells, suddenly finds himself on the Material Plane. Ar'Tarian, a minotaur whose spent most of his years fighting, mourns the loss of a dear friend and wonders what to do next with his life. Thariel Teldrek, a young dragonborn, is making her way out into the world and discovering the harsh realities it harbors. How do these three come together to reshape the world around them?

This is a story based on characters made for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign that spectacularly went up in flames. Nethrei Creed and Ar'Tarian are not mine, but their backstories and personalities are as accurate to their players' portrayals as possible. This story is not based on the campaign in any way except the characters.