The world needs saving...again!
Nearly 30 years ago, Lord Necrosil arose, the cruel, sadistic Deathknight-turned-Lich conquered the nation of Acthenia and turned it into the desolate, haunted shadowlands of Charnel. Under his reign, mages worked at mad experiments and he enslaved entire populations, using them as slaves until they died, then raising them as undead minions, or used them as sacrifices for his most twisted, infernal rituals. Blessed and cursed by the darkest, and most ancient of forces, Necrosil rose to all but Godhood, preparing to conquer the entire continent, followed by the world at large, turning everything in his grasp to cursed dust.
For 20 years, it took the combined might of an entire continent's finest warriors, priests, and mages just to...battle Necrosil to a much slower inevitable victory. Though the people at large held out hope for a way to turn the tides, it was ultimately a losing battle. With every year, the Dead King's reach grew a little longer, and the coalition against him seemed a bit frailer and less motivated. Lords and Ladies who had once preached a fast and decisive victory were turning to despair, speaking of sending away surviving family to preserve their bloodlines, as if all was lost. And of course, that was when things changed.
No one is quite sure the Mad Prophet actually was. largely because he was, in fact, an absolute madman who didn't even seem to know his own name anymore. But, whether through birth, accident, or a gift of the Gods, he was one of the greatest prophets in recorded history. No one understood his ravings at the time about the shroud of death being rent apart. Of a sun blossoming at midnight and burning the hearts of the unworthy, cleansing the soul of the world. His keepers didn't even think it was distinct enough to call a prophecy and record it for anyone. Which might have ended up saving the world.
Because a band of adventurers, ones who had fought together, bled together, loved and lost together, had grown powerful indeed, and were set on a course with Lord Necrosil. The great Lick-king was justifiably arrogant, knowing he had crushed all opposition against him. Of course, this time, fate had intervened directly. The heroes were able to topple the Dead King, and break his forces, Bringing an end to the cursed kingdom of Charnel. Necrosil's phylactery resisted all attempts to destroy it, so instead, it was buried in a vault that was consecrated by no less then five gods, and bound with arcane and divine spells so powerful it hurt to look upon them, and great, intricate locks of such complexity that even the mids who designed them were still not quite sure how they had done it.
For the last ten years, there has been relative peace. Charnel has slowly been recovering, trying to become a true kingdome again, and the continent tries to heal from its scars. Until one month ago, the guards over the Vault noticed that somehow, the locks had been opened, and Necrosil's phylactery had vanished. There was only one thing to do: summon the heroes who had saved the world from the Dead King the first time, and hope their luck still held.
Still reading? Good!
This is a high-level D&D 5e game in an original (but familiar) setting, seeking a diverse and well-rounded group of players! I'll be accepting character submissions for a few days, and then will figure out the best party from among the prospective players I get.