"When do we leave?"
Gorion picks at his own meal of simple white rice and some exotic from of shellfish as he responds.
If all goes accordingly, and thy mind is made up to leave, ye shall leave with me tomorrow eve, before the 8th bell. I would advise ye to take the rest of this day, as well as the morrow, to ready thyself.
“Actually, no, let’s start that again. You’ve summoned me, by the sounds of things, summoned all of us here for some sort of -- quest? Why? There are others? By Tymora, this is Candlekeep, Gorian! With the aid of the clerics here you could send word to half of Faerûn with but a written request to the Keeper of Tomes.”
Aye, I have summoned thee, and thy fellows, for...let us say a quest, for now. I truly wish I could reveal why, but such details are more dangerous than thou can realize. True, I could summon aid from outside this fortress. And I did. I summoned ye, and the others, for knowledge of what I am planning could prove more dangerous than ye can imagine if word reached outside these hallowed walls.
He listens quietly to Qorin speak, and then nods respectfully in his direction.
I appreciate thy trust Qorin, and I shall strive to uphold it. Indeed I hold ye in the highest regard, each of you in fact. This, and more, is why ye have been chosen. Truly there is much I have chosen not to reveal, but to say more would be the mark of a fool at this hour. All I can say is when we are safely away, thy trust will be repaid with full disclosure of the threat we face.
Yes Qorin, Gorion has never seemed less than trustworthy to you.
“Oy, Cap, the sissy strummers fetch ya?”
Aye, the Strummers hear but do not see, and shadow obscures the meadow.
Some Harpers are aware, but few know the truth of what is to come.
"The only question that I have is - are we in danger?"
Aye Dagoliir, more peril than my words alone can express to thee. It is this reason above all else why I beg of thee to leave beside me. Here we are vulnerable, trapped inside these walls. Like the Elk in the forest, we must avoid the safety of the clearing and flee into the darkness of the forest, to avoid what is to come.
Gorion looks down, and picks at his meal some more, a regretful expression creasing his brow.
Alas, my care and wine loosens my tongue, and I speak of things best left unsaid! Please, ask me no more of what danger is to come, or why thou hast been chosen. I cannot reveal any further the secrets I keep! Know that all I do, I do for thee, to keep thy lives safe! Trust in that, please!
|Rasp the Rogue|
Rasp nodded at Gorian’s request. He took a spoonful of his stew and spread it on a biscuit and took a bite. The stew was delicious and conjured images of when he and the Old Man would sit and talk for hours.
A dark, niggling thought danced about his thoughts. Prisoners were usually given their favorite meals right before they were executed.
Suddenly, he wished he had placed two coins at Tymora’s altar.
Satisfied by the meal and the revelations, Qorin rises slowly. He looks around the room at the others whose fates may soon be bound with his and pauses, thoughtfully. There are few he has considered friends in his life, and fewer still he has shared danger with. If Gorian is right about the threat that approaches, though, it may be time for him to give up his lone-wolf tactics, and find a pack to run with.
"Tomorrow, by the 8th bell, then," he says, nodding to the old wizard. He looks at the others. "I am glad to know you all. I hope that whatever the dangers that come, at least some of us will stand against it, together."
Kemek slowly realises that the meeting is officially over. He watches as Qorin leaves, but doesn't know how to make the same kind of leaving statement. He sits and waits, hopin everyone else will leave and relieve him from this difficult social interaction.
Kemek busies himself in the usual way, moving about Candlekeep watching the day to day operations of the denizens, trying to ascertain the differences between desire and duty. He visits the library, studying anything that takes his fancy, but without duty and with no desire his direction is scattered.
He wonders to himself how others are motivated. Then he discards this train of thought. How should one become motivated? What internal or external force drives one toward an end, however faint or indistinct that end might be. Kemek knows enough to understand the answers will likely no be found in dusty tomes, even of parapsychology, harmonophilosophy or tangential theocratic studies. Perhaps te journey is all. And life's "meaning" is found upon the way.
Kemek spends the rest of the day communing with the birds, wind and waves on his favourite landing. As the appointed time nears, Kemek packs away his meagre belongings, attires himself for a journey, and sets of to meet his new companions.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Rasp nodded at Qorin’s words. “Eigth bell, then,” he said.
He then quickly finished his meal and excused himself. He had much to think about, and he prefered to do that alone.
The next morning he was up at dawn, preparing the last of his gear. The urge to flee on his own had been great. But in the end, he wanted to trust Gorian. He was more skeptical about the others. He knew how little honor there was among thieves, and he somehow doubted this group would be any different.
But at the same time, in their presence he had felt something -- odd. He couldn’t place it. But he felt strangely as if he belonged there. He shook his head, to clear it of the dangerous thoughts.
An hour before the eight bell he arrived at the meeting spot, and blended into the shadows.
Dexterity (Stealth): 1d20 + 2 + 1 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 2 + 1 + 5 = 25
Like a boss.
Gorion finally ends the meal and excuses himself, wishing each of you a good night and that he hopes to see you at the gates tomorrow. The rest of the evening passes quietly, though each of you has the uncanny sensation that you are not alone, or perhaps even being watched...regardless, the night passes and morning is swift to come.
The dawn rises over your last day at Candlekeep, and some of you may perhaps already be up, wondering what is to come. The day is warm, with the last vestiges of winter fleeing from springs embrace. The season of renewal and rebirth, of new beginnings and journeys has come, and today is the start of your own tale, for good or ill.
Despite the days beauty, you still cannot shake the ominous feeling in the air, heavy with dire portents of things to come. The hustle and bustle of Candlekeep cannot mask it, and at points throught the day you would swear you saw someone glancing at you strangely, or hear whispers in your head.
Midday comes, and you all find yourselves making what preparations you will. Perhaps restless, Qorin you find yourself walking, and soon end up joining Kemek on the landing, taking in a breathtaking view of the cliffs.
Rasp, as you prepare yourself and gather your belongings, there is a knock at your door.
Everyone else describe where you are midday and whom you may be with. You all, either individually or as a group, recieve a knock on your door or are hailed.
Kemek and Qorin, you find yourselves approached by a sunburnt smiling man dressed in simple clothing. Kemek you recognize him as one of the orphans under Candlekeeps care, by the name of Corban. He walks up to the two of you.
Heya, its me, Corban! Beautiful view isnt it?
Rasp, when you open your door you find a beautiful woman standing there. Long scarlet hair drapes a toned body, and her eyes lock onto yours, deep blue oceans.
If you spent much time here, you would recognize her as one of Gorions wards, though you may not know her name.
Hi there, im Isabel. I hear you go by Rasp, isnt it? May I come in and talk for a moment? Im worried for Gorion.
Rasp, Kemek, Qorin, make me Wisdom Saving Throws.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Wisdom Saving Throw: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16
Uncomfortably, Rasp stepped aside.
"Yes. I've seen you around Candlekeep -- Isabel," he said, struggling with her name for a moment.
Isabel stepped inside to find a meticulously kept room. Rasp cursed silently, when he noticed that his backpack was packed and by his bed, ready to leave at a moments notice.
Amateur, he thought angrily. He never should have allowed her in. Gorian wanted their quest kept secret.
"You say that you are concerned about Gorian. How can I help?
Wisdom Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Qorin looks up at the sunburnt fellow and smiles.
"Hello Corban," he says. "It is ... beautiful. I'd never noticed before." He had spent his short life hunting, looking for thieves, bandits and murderers. I hadn't trained him to have an eye for beauty, but now the man pointed it out, he could see it.
Wisdom Save: 1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 + 1 = 11
"Yes Corban, it is beautiful! I've not seen you here before..."
My Class Save is Wisdom, does that make any difference to my roll? I just used my modifier...
Corban walks to the edge and looks over, almost as if wondering how far the drop is. He turns back to Kemek and Qorin.
Kemek, you would know Corban. He is another one of Gorion's wards.
Listen, I hope you don't mind me prying, but can I ask you a question? Gorion has seemed...distant, as of late, and I am concerned for him. What is going on?
Isabel glances questioningly at the backpack, but otherwise pays it no mind. She steps inside and sits on the bed, leaning back slightly as if to afford you a better view of her.
Well, he has seemed so distant, so quiet and unreachable. I worry he is going to leave us, and as one of his Ward's, I would feel remiss if I did not try to find out what was going on. Please Rasp, will you tell me what is wrong? I would be truly grateful.
Rasp, make me a Perception Wisdom check.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Wisdom (Perception): 1d20 - 1 + 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 + 1 = 5
"I'm afraid that I do not know what is wrong with him. He's been distant with me as well.
Charisma (Deception): 1d20 - 3 + 1 ⇒ (11) - 3 + 1 = 9
Hmm, gonna be one of those nights, I guess.
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"I'm sure if Gorion wanted you to know what was going on, he'd ahve told you," Qorin says to Corban, tactful as ever. "But if you think you know better than he, by all means, pry away. Try to steal the secrets a mage keeps hidden. What could possibly go wrong?"
I didn't mean to infer Kemek didn't know Corban, merely that he hadn't seen Corban here on the landing before.
Kemek was about to spill all, but Qorin's words leave him momentarily confused. He chooses silence as the best option, watching the two mammals converse.
Corban appears taken aback, and stammers out a response quickly, obviously trying to mask his discomfort at the situation.
Please, im not trying to steal any secrets or anything like that! Its just, well...Gorion has been like a father to me. And if he is leaving tonight, I would be ill with worry if I did not know where he was traveling, or with who. Im trying to protect him as best I can!
1d20 ⇒ 20
Isabel pouts and stands, getting uncomfortably close to you Rasp. She places one hand on your arm and looks into your eyea.
Please Rasp? I know your lying to me, but this is important. Gorion is like a father to me, and I know he is dear to you too, looking after you all those years. I just want to know where he is going, and with whom. Is that truly too much to ask from a fellow Ward?
|Rasp the Rogue|
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Rasp's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"There are several things that I want to make abundantly clear to you. First, mages come and go as they please, and Gorian more than most. Second, I owe much to the Old Man, but I survived on my own. Third, life is full of disappointment, and that is something you'll just have to get used to. For instance, I would have preferred not to have been burnt alive when I was a boy. But here I am, scars and all."
"Now -- unhand me. Or I'll make you.
"I do not think Gorion would wish for you to become ill," he says. "But it is not my place to tell you of his plans. Surely he will tell you himself, as you are such good friends. As to his safety, I will do my utmost to see that no harm befalls him. You have my promise."
Rasp, make me a Wisdom Insight check.
Isabel, looks down, then back up at you, tears in her eyes.
I...im so sorry Rasp. I did not mean to make you angry, or presume to much about you. I...im just so worried, and feel so lost without Gorion here! Please forgive me!
The poor woman begins sobbing violently.
1d20 ⇒ 20
Wow the dice are on my side.
As she looks down and begins crying, you can obviously sense something is not right. When she suddenly looks up, an expression of fury in her eyes, you find yourself prepared, and can react accordingly.
He shall not be pleased, but your death here will serve just as well!
As she looks down and begins crying, whether you feel sympathy, empathy, or nothing at all, you cannot help but be taken aback when she suddenly looks up, fury in her eyes.
He shall not be pleased, but your death here will serve just as well!
As your shock takes you off guard, she lunges forward, her formally normal arm now lashing out like a whip, limber and boneless, aimed straight for your throat!
Surprise Round Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Damage: 2d6 + 2d4 + 1 ⇒ (4, 2) + (1, 2) + 1 = 10
As your throat crushes under the impact, and you cannot find breath, the last thing you see as darkness overtakes you is Isabel, her face now a formless, vague blur, slowly turning into...your face? Then all goes dark.
Mechanic wise, she chose you knock out out instead of doing lethal damage.
Corban looks crestfallen, but continues on with a determined expression upon his face.
I understand, though I still cannot help but feel that something is about to go terribly awry.
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Holy hell...ive never had dice rolls this good before. Im starting to wonder if I have put in the formula wrong and am messing up heh.
Roll me a Wisdom Insight roll, Kemek and Qorin.
Wisdom/Insight: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
|Rasp the Rogue|
Careful Kemek, I think we might be in danger.
So, Corban says that...then looks back up, a furious expression upon his face.
Terribly awry, for you! He shall be pleased!
He lashes out with his fist, aiming at Qorin.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
2d6 + 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (6, 4) + (1) + 1 = 12
His blow lands solidly against Qorin's midsection, and Qorin you can feel ribs breaking. Despite the intense pain, you can also notice the elasticity of his limbs as he strikes, and a fluid, almost formless grace to his body.
Kemek, Qorin...roll Initiative.
Initiative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Staggering from the blow, Qorin snarls and draws his heavy maul, taking a swing at Corban's head.
attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
damage: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (3, 1) + 3 = 7
The blow lands solidly, and you watch in satisfaction as his head caves in. Moments later thatfeeling turns to horror as the hole bulges back out, as Iif you had just struck an amorphous mass. The damage is obviously still there, but the rubbery lack of substance to Corban's form can only be described as inhuman.
As if that was not enough, he shrieks in pain, letting out a monstrous cry that no human mouth can replicate, and screams out a language neither of you have ever heard.
Kemek, roll initiative, and take your turn if it is higher tham Corbans roll please.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Initiative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
Damn. Sorry Qor.
GM - where is Corban - is he currently between me and the edge? If I'm not dead, can I use thunderwave to push him off the rampart? Or smash him into the Keep walls?
Casting Time: 1 action Range: 15 feet Duration: Instantaneous
With a loud crack, a wave of thunderous force sweeps out from you. Each creature in a 15-¬‐foot cube originating from you must make a Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 2d8 thunder damage and is pushed 10 feet away from you. On a successful one, it takes half as much damage and is not pushed.
In addition, unsecured objects that are completely within the area of effect are automatically pushed 10 feet away from you by the spell’s effect, and the spell emits a thunderous boom audible within 300 feet of you.
Also - three rules questions:
1: The Concentration rules under Magic in the How To Play PDF talk about maintaining a spell, but nothing about Concentration for casting in Combat. Have I missed something?
2: In the Combat section, Knockdown mentions a contested check - your Strength vs the opponents choice of Strength or Dexterity. But do you need to make a successful hit first? What about using knockdown with a weapon?
3: On my Wisdom (Insight) save, should I have added my Proficiency bonus (I did not, but it wouldn't have mattered much anyway...) ? Or to put it a little more clearer, do I add my Proficiency bonus to *any* Wisdom save?
You area all pretty much close to the edge. For the most part I will be using Theatre of the Mind for Combat, as DnD Next lends itself very well to it. But you can safely use Thunderwave just on Corban, and you could either throw him against the wall or off the Cliff edge, both are valid options.
Corban snarls in rage and pain, his features shifting and sliding, almost as if something is moving underneath his flesh. He grabs at Qorin, obviously attempting to throw him from the Cliff!
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
Qorin, I need an opposed Str or Dex check.
Regardless of the outcome, Kemek you may take your turn.
The last thing before everything went dark as breath fled your lungs and you could draw in no more was the disturbing sight of Isabel, her face melting and reforming, shifting into your features. Then the world goes dark...
Time passes, and the darkness remains. Suddenly, sharp pain slices through the fog, and images begin to form. Slowly, scenes from your life, specifically of the past day and today begin to form. As you begin retracing the events of yesterday, you become aware of yourself, floating in the air, arms and legs chained and forced apart. A shadowy figure, at times resembling you, at other times resembling Isabel, seems to be standing before you, directing the parade of images much like a maestro at a Waterdavian Orchestra.
She/He/It watches the scenes with vivid interest, especially all your interactions with Gorion. You can feel sharp stabbing sensations of pain in your mind, now clear and sharp in their intensity. After watching all the images of the meeting with Gorion, you feel almost as if your mind is attempting to be spread apart, splayed open like a peeled fruit for Isabel to rummage through. However, despite the pain, you martial your will, and no further images play.
Isabel turns fully towards you, and the creature before you is horrifying in shape. A pale, formless humanoid stands before you, with no obvious sex or other markings visible. Pale, pinkish rubbery skin are the only features, and the face shifts between hers, yours, and a flat, featurless form with two large, unblinking eyes, thin slits where the nose should be, and a large, fanged mouth.
The creature hisses in fury, and walks towards you. It places its hand upon your face, and begins to press inwards. As your face splits apart around the hand, and formless fingers peel your flesh apart and ravage your exposed brain, the excruciating pain turns everything to darkness once more. The last thing that stands out as she turns away Is her once more focusing on the images of you and Gorion, and the sick smile upon that rubbery face as she shifts fully into your form and watches them.
Rasp, you awaken sometime later, hands and legs bound to a chair upon which you have been seated. You are unsure how long you have been out, and the pain from your injured throat, as well as a thick haze in your mind makes it hard to focus. You head feels, to put it coarsely, as if your mind was raped, ravished, and ruined, though it seems to be more or less intact. Sunlight still comes in from your window, though it is fading now, and if you had to guess, there is not much time before the appointed meeting hour with Gorion.
You are currently at 1 HP, and are bound. You have been stripped completely nude, and none of your gear or clothing is anywhere in sight. Isabel appears to be gone, and the door to your room is shut. What do you do? Feel free to describe your actions, and make appropriate Checks. I will correct you if need be.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Rasp gasped and screamed as consciousness slammed into him. There were several long seconds of frantic panic, when he realized that he was tied to his bed. He initially tried to physically break the ropes in this animal-like state to no avail. But, eventually, the training took over.
Gorian was in trouble, and he had to help him. But there was nothing he could do as he was. He thought about yelling for help, but there was no telling how long that would take. And worse, what if someone arrived, but they couldn’t be trusted?
No, Rasp, relied on himself. And no other.
He took some deep calming breaths. First thing, first.
Rasp began deftly rotating his hands, one way, then another. Like a tumbler in a lock, he thought. He just needed to add the right amount of pressure.
Like a tumbler in a lock. Like a tumbler in a lock. Like a tumbler in a lock.
Dexterity: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 Don’t think I add proficiency to this, per sé.
LOL. This might take a while.
After half an hour, Rasp was still bound. His arms had cramped painfully several times, and his wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding from all the rotating. No matter, what was one more scar?
Like a tumbler in a lock. Like a tumbler in a lock. Like a tumbler in a lock, he thought obsessively.
Dexterity: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
The tumbler caught.
His left hand was able to wriggle free. After that, it was child's play to reach over and untie his other hand. He then freed his legs.
He spent the next five minutes, stretching and rubbing his weary limbs. He needed to get circulation running into his legs, there was no point running after the Old Man if he was only going to stumble.
He then searched his room, top to bottom to see if anything would be of use. A weapon, tools, anything!
Intelligence (Search): 1d20 + 1 + 1 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 1 + 1 + 5 = 21
GM, you can tell me later if Rasp found anything useful.
Rasp needed clothes. He took the ripped bed sheet that had been covered in his sweat and blood, and fashioned it into a rough, tattered, yellow cloak.
Not much, but better than nothing.
And now, the game truly began.
How far up am I? Is climbing down with bed linens and curtains feasible, or should I just risk going out the door?
Excellent post Rasp, and I like that I did not have to step in and tell you that a 17 was a success...hint, it was.
In your room would be a wash basin, a pitcher of water, whatever small personal effects you did not pack, and of course your bedding, complete with a sheet and blanket. Like most rooms in Candlekeep, it is sparse, with little in the way of furnishing or luxury.
If you would have so chose, you could also have had a writing desk.
Most rooms would have been in the towers, at least two stories up. So I would say you are roughly 20 or so feet high.
|Rasp the Rogue|
Thanks, GM. I do try. :-)
Rasp threw a rope out his bedroom window, cobbled together with a series of tied together linens and curtains.
“I swear to Tymora, Gorian, if you’re dead, I’ll drag your rotting carcass back to Baldur’s Gate, bring you back to life, and then strangle you to death myself!” Rasp muttered angrily as he carefully repelled his way down the rope.
Not sure if you want to bother with a check in this case. Let me know, if you do, or just roll it for me. (1d20 -1)
He deftly dropped the last few remaining feet. He looked up to see the last remaining shreds of twilight, giving way to darkness.
Rasap sighed, and began running to the meeting point. No time to be subtle about it. He needed to hurry.
Kemek likewise snarls, his alloyed face contorting into a feral grimace. He steps right up to "Corban" and places his hands by the creature's head.
This is not a place of battle. This is his place, a place of peace and communing with nature. But when nature strikes it strikes well. Calling on all the might of Lathander Kemek thrusts a wave of thunderous force at "Corban", throwing the creature into the wall with a thunderclap that can be heard throughout the Keep.
Move: Up to right next to "Corban"
Action: Cast thunderwave at "Corban's" head.
That should alert some folk!
Hopefully Kemek placing his hands point-blank to Corban should allow the Thunderwave to miss Qorin.
str: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
As Corban grapples him and they teeter on the edge of the cliff, Qorin sticks an arm out, shoving the rubbery man away.
1d20 ⇒ 1
2d8 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7
Right as Qorin throws the man back, Kemek unleashes a spell that rings out with a clap of thunder, shattering the man's body and flinging him against the walls!
Astonishingly, he is still stirring, though the damage is severe.
Qorin your up. Any attacks you make, roll with advantage.
Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Striding up to what had once been Corban, Qorin raises his maul high overhead and brings it down HARD on the creature's middle.
damage: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (3, 3) + 3 = 9