Fionn Laughingbluff

Fionn is a rather harsh individual past his prime who has spent his whole life working at the shipyards of Khaerbaal in Halruaa. When sober, he prefers to keep to himself allthough he enjoys carousing with his co-workers after a hard day's work.

Physical Description

Körpermerkmale

Fionn is relatively muscular, apart from his beer belly, which tells of long evenings in the tavern with his drinking companions.

Gesichtsmerkmale

His dark blonde locks curl out from under a blue bandana. The only really well-groomed things about him are his bushy sideburns and the usually short kept stubble.

Kleidung & Schmuck

Under his brown leather coat he wears simple, worn work clothes that have served him well for many years.

Spezialausrüstung

Thanks to the financial support of his guild, he was able to attend one of the public schools during his training as a shipbuilder to acquire fundamental knowledge of transmutation magic.

Mental characteristics

Persönliche Geschichte

Fionn was in the process of reinforcing the foremast of the Grand Duchess when he heard Gerris barking his name. “There is a messenger here who wants to see ya, mate”. Fionn startled and nearly lost his balance, thereby dropping his hammer which came down crashing at the freshly burnished deck, leaving a noticeable notch in the expensive wood. “What the fuck Gerris , I ain’t got time for this right now.” “Says he’s got a letter for ya, says he’s only gonna hand it to you personally.” Fionn grumbled and made his way down the shroud. Standing next to Gerris was a brown-haired boy in his early teens. He handed Fionn a letter and looked at him expectantly with an outstretched hand. “Whaddaya want boy, piss off!” he snarled. The boy spit at his feet and legged it. “Dear brother, Before all things, I pray you are faring well. I am aware that we have not been on the best of terms ever since I left Khaerbaal and would not want to bother you anymore than necessary. However, I am in need of your help. Your niece has been dispatched on a diplomatic mission to the island of Inquest. This was 25 years ago and we have not heard a word from her in all this time. I would go investigate myself but these days I can barely get out of bed. Of course her superiors have offered to send scouts in order to find her but knowing her, if they ever do find her, she would probably go ballistic. You know, the proud apple does not fall far from the tree and I think she was trying to prove something when she picked this particular destination. Anyway, I hope you come around for her sake. I sincerely wish to know that my girl is doing alright...” Among the papers was a map of the Stonelands with the approximate location of the portal supposedly leading to the island and scribbled notes of potential contacts that might have more information on the matter. “Well fuck Marwrick, why are you dragging me into this?” Fionn thought to himself while he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He sighed, took out his knife, and carved his initials on one of the boards on the Duchess's stern. He then made his way to the head office to apply for leave. He did not wait for the approval but set off straight away to the north the next morning.

Bildung

He began an apprenticeship as a shipbuilder at the age of 15 and worked his way up over the years to become a foreman. He also attended a public school of transmutation magic.

Beschäftigung

Halruaan Skyship Construction Inc.

Personality Characteristics

Positive Charakterzüge

Fionn might come off as rude and grumpy but secretly has a big heart, especially for matters that concern his family and friends. Since he never married or had children, apart from his great passion, shipbuilding, he has no connections to his homeland. His brother Marwrick had left Faerûn when Fionn was still very young and he could not forgive him for abandoning him to this day. In spite of it, he hopes that this trip will bring him closer to his family again.

Negative Charakterzüge

Fairness. We all do the work, so we all share in the rewards.
Once someone questions my courage, I never back down no matter how dangerous the situation.

Social

Familienbande

Marwrick Laughingbluff - older Brother, owner and manager of the Southern Faerûn Trading Company
Serendipity Laughingbluff - niece, was sent to to Inquest about 25 years ago, still missing

Sprache

My language is as foul as an otyugh nest.

He's a grumpy old geezer who set out on a journey to a mysterious island in order to find his long-lost niece.

View Character Profile

Age

Geburtsort

Khaerbaal, Halruaa

Children

Gender

male

Augen

dull grey

Haare

dirty blond/light brown

Hautfarbe

warm ivory, leathery and sunburned

Größe

1.05 m

Gewicht

22 kg

Known Languages

Common, Halfling

Your friendly neighborhood cultists

The next day, in the absence of a clear course of action, we decided to return downtown to replenish Someth's beer supply. Someth told us that in the past he had usually bought his alcohol from another tavern owner named Tomasz. He made no secret of the fact that he didn't get on so well with him. Tomasz's inn, the Twisted Spider Tavern, was located near the square that now served as a storage area for building materials. Someth had never asked for room and board so we decided it would be fair to repay him this way. So we set out and found, as expected, that the building had also fallen victim to the invasion. There was nothing left other than a big pile of charred wood. An inspection of the east side of the building however revealed a door to the basement. To our astonishment, not only was the door not locked but the interior of the cellar was still filled to the brim with gigantic beer barrels. Laendir noticed that one of the barrel stands had been moved not long ago to make room for a small passage. Beyond it however, there was nothing more to be seen than the cold stone walls of the cellar. We suspected to find some kind of secret passage and Laendir and Nordan began smashing the wall with their weapons. They managed to break off a small piece of stonework, which revealed the stone door behind it. I leaned under the stand and found a small opening. I took out a butter knife and started poking the hole. Eventually there was a click and the stone door swung open. Behind it stood some figures in black and red-brown robes who stared at us in confusion. Fuck! This endeavor should have been easy! Suddenly the tension in the room was clearly noticeable. Before anyone else could do anything, I started conjuring a spell. Just before I was done, I felt a strong surge of energy and my spell faded. “Watch out folks! Something in here is able to interrupt my magic!” Then the cultists attacked. Nordan was still standing in the middle of the door and was hit by one of the attackers. In the back of the basement, another secret door opened through which three other cultists ran into the room. They seemed to have been trained in magic and tried to incapacitate us with it, but were apparently too weak to take on our willpower. Ultimately, one of the fanatics was about to land a hit on Laendir with his dagger. He tried to cast a protective spell, but also his magic was dispelled in an instant and the dagger found an opening, piercing Laendir’s upper arm. One of the fanatics charged at me. Knowing well that potent magic would probably be counter-spelled again, I tried summoning a phantasmal hand with a cantrip to stop the enemy in his tracks. The spell had served me well in the past, transporting or moving smaller objects, but it seemed as if my surroundings had begun to change my magic. Instead of the harmless hand, I formed a skeletal hand that began to choke the fanatic and visibly hurt him. I didn't have time to reflect upon what had just happened, but later I realized that this type of magic was very dark in origin and was therefore banned in all of Halruaa. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Laendir and Nordan pounding their opponents wildly. One of them was already showing multiple cuts and stab wounds and his robe was stained with his own blood. The fanatic withdrew into the middle of the room, began to mumble something and then stabbed his stomach several times with his dagger. One of the cultists saw this and let out a cry of fear. He pulled a scroll from his robe and opened a portal through which he immediately disappeared. Then the wounded fanatic exploded. With horror we saw how all the blood in the room flowed to the remains of the fanatic and formed into an oversized, misshaped creature. Except for one of the cultists who had succumbed to his injuries moments ago and two other fanatics, everyone fled through the portal. “That’s it, I’m out of here!” I darted through the door and closed it behind me. It didn’t feel good to leave my companions behind but I wasn’t going to die here now, was I!? I took a moment to take a deep breath and thought about how I could help my companions. Before we had entered the basement, we passed the square, which was frequented by quite a considerable crowd. Maybe I could convince them to help us fight off these guys? No, very unlikely. But I could try to deceive them and use them as a distraction to get my friends out of the cellar! Nordan's pained voice boomed out through the closed door. Damnit! I stormed down to the square and drew attention to myself as best I could. "Free beer for everyone! Help me to save what the horde didn't fall victim to and we'll have a nice evening together!" It took a while, but eventually I was able to recruit a small group of passers-by for my camouflaged rescue mission. The moment I tried to open the door, it was pushed open from the inside. The meat golem caught sight of the crowd and roared towards them. Before they realized what was about to happen, he started tearing them to pieces one by one. I picked up my legs again, ducked under a blow and disappeared between the ruined houses. To recap my situation, my magic was useless, my companions were probably already dead or on the verge of dying, my distraction had certainly killed two dozen people, and the only thing I could add to this fight would be to beat a bloodthirsty heap of meat two and a half meters tall with a wooden stick! I wasn’t having any it! So I ran back to the other square where they had piled up the gear of the fallen and armed myself with whatever I could find at the moment. I hurried back only to find the carnage outside the building and the empty basement. They had all gone. Maybe they had escaped through a portal like the cultists did before? I set out to search the dead body that was left behind and found a scroll in his robe pocket. This is probably a very stupid idea, but let’s just use this portal scroll and hope for the best. I promptly found myself in a different masonry, surrounded by armed guards who, luckily, were called off just before things got ugly. Laendir and Nordan had in fact been teleported here and were speaking to a hooded figure with a female voice. There was something about her that gave me the creeps. She stated that she was leading these worshippers of Lord Godard and that apparently we had disrupted some ritual and caused her a lot of trouble. For every spell she had to counter, one of her loyal followers had been sacrificed. As far as I could tell, she wasn't lying, and the pile of corpses in the centre of the room with their throats cut was evidence enough for me. The woman introduced herself as Kyríos and made it very clear that she was not interested in any kind of alliance with our little party. She advised us to get a uniform to make identification easier and to avoid further misunderstandings in the future. Then she led us to a room where we found all our things. Wait, what? How? I face-palmed as I realized that our gear had been branded with magic, probably a tracking spell and that now, since our belongings had been returned to us, we couldn’t use Shamus’s spell to find the rebel leader! Back to square one. I hate this island. Seriously, FUCK THIS PLACE!!!

How much can a man take?

It's been less than a week since we came to this godforsaken island and yet we managed to be robbed of all belongings and to be publicly humiliated. I’ve had it up to here already! At first, our transport trip seemed to be rather uneventful. We met a farmer who was lying unconscious on the ground next to his cart. We knew we wouldn’t reach the main square before dark, so we decided to spend the night in one of the destroyed houses. We were alarmed, of course. To find unconscious farmers lying on the street is usually rather suspicious. So we set up trip wires across the street and put up guards. Unfortunately, I immediately slept through my watch. The excitement of the past two days had apparently demanded more than I wanted to admit. The next day we woke up in the presence of a group of hooded figures. It was to be assumed that they were members of the rebels. Since we were both outnumbered and unprepared, we first tried to resolve the conflict non-violently and did not defend ourselves when they tied us up, which in retrospect was probably our first big mistake. Still, we were able to convince them not to kill us on the spot. Instead, they dispatched one of their people to fetch the leader of their group who would determine our future fate. Facing one less enemy seemed reason enough to try a breakout. My distraction, however, failed and my companions were not motivated to take action either. Eventually the henchman returned, accompanied by his leader. After a short talk, the rebels packed our equipment, the farmer, and our grain on our wagon and knocked us out with some kind of sleeping potion. When we came to again, we found ourselves in a cage with nothing but our underwear and surrounded by a crowd of people throwing rotten fruit at us. Never before in my life have I felt so helpless and humiliated! The people seemed unarmed so I swallowed my anger and thought of a solution to get out of the cage. I transmuted the iron lock into wood and encouraged Nordan to break it to pieces. When the pack noticed that we were stepping out of the cage, they started screaming and bolted but Nordan had none of it. He called down sacred flames burning 18 peasants in the process. Laendir and I were speechless at first, but then decided not to waste any time. Without our equipment we were as vulnerable as a sitting duck. At least there was no lack of abandoned armor and weapons that had piled up in heaps next to the endless burial mounds. Laendir and Nordan salvaged what they could, but I realized at that moment that I was neither trained in hand-to-hand combat, nor had my spellbook or my component pouch with me. In this state I would be just as useless as any ordinary citizen. Frustrated, we returned to Godard's tower to ask Shamus for help. He made every effort to keep our failure a secret from his master and got us a spellscroll that would allow us to find our equipment and perhaps the rebels that had taken it. He also got us a letter officially identifying us as Godard's henchman. We then headed for the Someth-Inn to spend the night there and drown our sorrows in whatever liquor Someth could muster. The next day we marched again to barracks south of the city in order to get help from Sergeant Cornwell. I was hoping this day would be better than the previous one, but oh boy, was I wrong! We showed our papers to the clerk who nearly pissed himself as a result and let us pass without another word. Nordan and I were already walking past him and on our way to the building to visit Cornwell when Laendir drew his sword and cut the clerk’s throat. Apparently he hadn't forgotten his resentment after our last encounter with this particular guard. Either that, or he just had to vent it somehow. Anyways, of course, the bystanders were not very enthusiastic about Laendir's act and charged at him. Slaughtering potential allies seemed stupid to me, so I conjured up an illusion of Godard which was supposed to intimidate the guards and the other citizens. Half of the attackers took off and before the situation finally escalated, Cornwell emerged and called off the attack. He wore rather flashy armor and was surrounded by soldiers who looked much more battle-hardened than the rest of the guards. Our audience, however, turned out to be fruitless, because we were again sent away without support. Back to the tavern we went! Amazingly, Someth seemed to have pity on us and willingly shared a bunch of information. Why we didn’t get the idea to ask him earlier, we will probably never find out. In summary, the supposed leader of the rebels is a lady named Amejla Grandeur and she seems to have a personal reason to oppose Godard. Since the grain was often left behind after an attack for no apparent reason, even though food should actually be in short supply during these troubled times, it seems obvious that there was something else the rebels are after. Maybe Cornwell was even in league with them? We came to the conclusion that there is very likely a need to set an example once and for all. Neither the military nor the population seem to want to support us voluntarily and the rebels are a thorn in everyone's side. At the moment, survival is my top priority and it seems that in this country the bigger and bad one always eats the weaker, smaller one. If the only way to gain respect around here is to skin this Amejla alive and in public, then so be it!

Leaving home was a bad idea

I had made my way up north and reached the city of Arabel by nightfall. Tired and hungry from the strains of the journey, I stopped at a tavern to get a long night’s sleep and hopefully a few beers and a warm meal. Funnily enough, I there met two other individuals who claimed to be heading to the Stonelands as well: a pale-skinned Half-elf by the name of Laendir and a relatively young dwarf who introduced himself as Nordan. Over the course of the evening we had a few rounds and shared our stories, eventually coming to the conclusion that we were all heading in the same direction so it would probably be beneficial to stick together for the time being. All of a sudden, our surroundings dissipated into the shadows. Our bodies went numb and a strange, sleep-like feeling came over us. When I came to, I found myself on the floor of a throne room with my companions lying next to me. The room seemed empty apart from a desk and a luxuriant chair standing near the back wall. A figure stood next to desk, looking at us expectantly. He introduced himself as Lord Godard and he disclosed to us that we were to oversee the city he had just conquered in his stead because he had business somewhere else. Three phylacteries (each of them marked by an emblem, in my case an anchor) containing our souls floated next to him and I realized that we had no choice but to comply with his request. In front of the throne room we met Shamus, the chamberlain who had served the previous king and obviously wasn’t too happy about his new job. He briefed us on the current state of affairs. Looking out the window of the tower we had been teleported to, we could see the remains of a gigantic city and Shamus told us that His Majesty had basically overrun the place with hordes of undead minions. He then sent us on our first mission to get to the bottom of the current food shortage. We were to find and consult Sergeant Cornwall in Hay Street, located in the south-east of the city. We spent most of our day in an attempt to fix a cart we had found after leaving the castle. The population was mostly occupied with burying their dead and life-sustaining measures. At dusk we found the Someth-Inn, one of very few buildings standing and spent the night there. The pub was run by a dwarf named Someth and his partner Henry. They seemed trustworthy enough. After breakfast we made our way to Hay Street and after several unsuccessful attempts at persuading the clerk, we gave up on talking to Cornwell personally. We loaded up our cart with corn and headed back to the city centre expecting to be ambushed at any time.

Fionn Laughingbluff