Wild Beyond the Witchlight (Inactive)

Game Master Evriani

Dramatis Personae


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Half-Elf Male Bard (College of Lore) 3 | HP 21/21 | AC 16 | Init: +4 | Spells: 1st - 4/4; 2nd - 2/2 | Bardic Insp: 3/3 | Passive Percept: 15 | Spellthief Lute: 2/2 | Saves: STR: +0 DEX: +5 CON: +1 INT: +1 WIS: +1 CHA: +5 | Conditions: None
Spells:
Cantrip - Mage Hand, Minor Illusion; 1st - Detect Magic (R), Healing Word, Heroism, Identify (R), Sleep; 2nd - Invisibility
Skills:
Acrobatics +5, Arcana +3, Athletics +2, History +3, Insight +3, Investigation +3, Nature +3, Perception +5, Performance +7, Persuasion +5, Stealth +5

Dex Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Vashrin's index finger goes to the tip of his nose before the word "goes" gets out of Willow's mouth.

Taking the flask from Willow, taking a sip, and passing it along, Vash comments, "Story time? Ohh, I do love story time...particularly debauched story time."

"Although I do expect a paladin's idea of debauchery is a bit different than some of the rest of us." he adds with a wink toward Nuruk.


31/31 HP | AC: 17 | Intiative: -1 | Passive Perception: 12 | DV 60ft | Saves: WIS, CHA | Lay On Hands 0/10 | Conditions: None
Spell Slots:
1st - 2/2

Dexterity: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17

As soon as Vash's hand moved, so did the paladin's. Nuruk was not so good at this game so he had to lose it constantly. This time though, he was prepared as he put his finger to his nose moments after the Bard did. From Vash's comment, a small blush spread across his cheek but a cheerful laugh followed it as well.

"I am no champion of Torm or Tyr, if that is what you are asking. The Light encourages us to enjoy life lest we forget why we are fighting to protect it. I've had a few drinks with Satyrs, a spin with a nymph, and a few other things...here and there. Still..." His hand would find Willow's, squeezing it gently. "...some things just don't compare."


Dex: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Karley mistook her finger for Adela's, shoving the mega-morphin' confused woman's digit into her little halfling shnoz...and much too slow on the draw.


Adela's Dex: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14
Demalyn's Dex: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Pixies' Dex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

The pixies know what's up. Only Vash is faster on the draw, as all three rapidly touch tiny noses in sync.

For a noblewoman, Adela catches on fairly quickly. She grimaces and removes her other finger from Karley's nose, wiping it on the halfling's clothes.

Demalyn, on the other hand, has never heard of this game, and watches in fascination as every else touches their nose, finally, belatedly, mimicking the motion, then pulling her finger away and staring at it curiously. "What is 'debauched'?"


NG Human Male Druid 3 | AC: 12(14) | HP: 21/23 | PPerc: 16 | PInsight: 16 | Init: +1 | Inspiration: No

DEX Check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Although he'd never played the game before, Khalil was quick enough to touch his blushing nose. His shoulders give a little shrug turning to Demalyn, his brows furrowing as he attempts to explain. A task made more difficult by his own inexperience in such worldly things.

"I think most would say it is when someone has pushed the limits or overindulged in some sort of....ummm...sensual pleasure." He say quietly, pausing to clear his throat. "Not exactly something one has the opportunity to do growing up on an isolated farm in the Feywild." Another embarrassed pause as he tries to think back. Eventually a weak grin crosses his face. "Although there were a few Midsummer celebrations where the twinkleberry wine flowed free and the local satyrs, sprites, and pixies cavorted and reveled beneath the light of the full moon. Then again...when aren't satyrs, sprites and pixies cavorting beneath a full moon."

"I'm sure it was nothing compared to stories of the inns and taverns or festivals of the wide mortal realms encountered by the carnival and what others here may have witnessed or been part of."


Fem Tiefling Trickery Cleric 3 | 24/24 HP | AC 15 | Initiative: +2 | Spells: 1) 2/4; 2) 1/2 | Channel Divinity: 0/1 | Passive Perception: 12 | Saves: STR: +0 DEX: +2 CON: +2 INT: +0 WIS: +4 CHA: +3 | Conditions: none
Spells:
0: Thamaturgy; Guidance; Sacred Flame; Spare the Dying||1: 4/4; 2: 2/2 || +2 modifier; +4 SpATK; SSDC 12

Order: Demalyn, Karley, Willow, Adela, Khalil, Nuruk, the Pixies, then, finally, Vash. Imo, we can just post in whatever order, haha.

Willow snorts at Vash's comment, eyebrows raising. "I think you'd be surprised," She mutters before Nuruk chimes in. She squeezes Nuruk's hand in return, biting her lip to contain the smile that threatened to sneak out.

Willow turns a bemused expression on Demalyn, nodding politely to the confused dryad. "Khalil has it right - drinking, partying, sex. It's all under that umbrella. Nothing you're actually uncomfortable sharing, though. It's just a bit of fun," The purple tiefling leaned back against Nuruk, crossing her legs and turning her gaze to the halfling sorceress, a fake-stern look on her face.

"You have to tell us a real story, not your little riddle stories. Or I'll tell one about you instead...and I have several."


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Demalyn frowned thoughtfully. "Dryads cannot consume alcohol. It does not make us drunk, just very sick. And this party is the only one I have been to."

She tapped her lip, considering. "I have never mated, but one time, there was a man who entered the woods and tried to cut down my sister's tree. She was very cross with him, and used her tree's branches to trap him. She gave him a chance to apologize, but he would not. So she stripped him naked and left him strung up for days. It was not sex exactly, but she did mount him on some vines. I do not think he found it pleasurable, but she said it was very funny." She smiled innocently, clearly oblivious to how dark her tale was.


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"everyth-Nothing I've done is even close to my counterpart, Sultry Bubblebuttons-buttons..." the sorcerer explained. She went on to tell a story about how Sultry and a certain blessed goliath 'raised monoliths' across the southern platitudes, surviving on a diet of only raw oysters and strawberries. The monoliths (which included male and female themes) at first garnered mere artistic attention, but when the naughty couple brought Animate Objects magics into the mix the arcane world took note as well. If you go there now, Karley promised, you can still see the strange members dancing about the bubbling brooks, karst topography, and majestic canyons.

Legend has it, when the moon is full and the first fruits of spring are beginning to ripen, you can still hear the rumble of Sultry's cock-n-balls tumbling through the forest.


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Fem Tiefling Trickery Cleric 3 | 24/24 HP | AC 15 | Initiative: +2 | Spells: 1) 2/4; 2) 1/2 | Channel Divinity: 0/1 | Passive Perception: 12 | Saves: STR: +0 DEX: +2 CON: +2 INT: +0 WIS: +4 CHA: +3 | Conditions: none
Spells:
0: Thamaturgy; Guidance; Sacred Flame; Spare the Dying||1: 4/4; 2: 2/2 || +2 modifier; +4 SpATK; SSDC 12

Willow stares, silver eyes as round as a full moon at Demalyn's exceptionally debauched (and somewhat disturbing) story. She chuckles smilelessly, clearly impressed by the dryad's sister's methods.

She then turns to listen to Karley's story, brows raised at the bizarre story. The tiefling wrinkles her nose at the halfling, shaking her head. "Telling a story about a different you is a cop-out, and you know it. Luckily, one of my most scandalous encounters includes you, so you don't get to wiggle your way out of it that easily," Willow says, wagging her finger at Karley admonishingly.

The cleric leans back, hands on her knees, and then launches into her own story. "By the time I hit 15, I rarely spent the night alone. In hindsight, far too young to be engaging in such things, but I sought validation through that and all manner of mind-altering substances. I was, of course, a poor example for Miss Rumblemuffin," the tiefling pauses to gesture at Karley with a bemused expression. "She got dragged to some of these parties, too...and about a year ago, we had set up the carnival for a particularly powerful Archfey...a special request..." Willow continues on, relating a tale that involved mixing alcohol and a few different types of psychedelics at the beginning of the night and ended with Karley, Willow, the Archfey who threw the party, an imp, a satyr, and a few random other Fey waking up curled up around one another as naked as the day they were born.

"The imp followed Karley around for a bit," Willow says, giggling madly and wincing a bit from the pain of her smile. The tiefling schooled her face back into careful neutrality, eyes still glittering with amusement.

She turned her gaze to both Adela, Khalil, and Nuruk, raising her eyebrows with interest. "Your turns."


Half-Elf Male Bard (College of Lore) 3 | HP 21/21 | AC 16 | Init: +4 | Spells: 1st - 4/4; 2nd - 2/2 | Bardic Insp: 3/3 | Passive Percept: 15 | Spellthief Lute: 2/2 | Saves: STR: +0 DEX: +5 CON: +1 INT: +1 WIS: +1 CHA: +5 | Conditions: None
Spells:
Cantrip - Mage Hand, Minor Illusion; 1st - Detect Magic (R), Healing Word, Heroism, Identify (R), Sleep; 2nd - Invisibility
Skills:
Acrobatics +5, Arcana +3, Athletics +2, History +3, Insight +3, Investigation +3, Nature +3, Perception +5, Performance +7, Persuasion +5, Stealth +5

Vashrin sits gape-mouthed at Demalyn's story. "I'm not quite sure that's what any of had in mind, but that certainly qualifies." the bard quietly comments with a visible shudder.

The half-elf chuckles a bit at the story of one of the many Karlies, maybe not this one, but certainly one of them.

Vash turns to Willow as she begins her tale, listening with piqued interest as the tiefling's story involves the halfling as well. When the priestess had finished, the bard commented, "Alright, you win I suppose. Nothing I've encountered in Baldur's Gate or Waterdeep is going to be match for that, I mean I understand the Archfey and the satyr, but adding in an imp too?"

Taking a sip the flask and passing it on, he leans back to hear if any of the other three had a prayer of matching the tiefling's tale.


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NG Human Male Druid 3 | AC: 12(14) | HP: 21/23 | PPerc: 16 | PInsight: 16 | Init: +1 | Inspiration: No

Khalil follows Demalyn's story with a knowing nod. His face serious, but clearly not shocked by fey justice. The stories of Willow and Karley leave him a bit slack jawed or blushing furiously, often both at the same time.

When his turn rolls around he starts to shake his head, but eventually relents after a gentle nudge from the dryad.

"Ahem...well...as I said. I've nothing to compare with imps, Archfey, and obscene wondering statues." He says with a mild smile. Running his fingers through his hair, he leans back in his chair pondering the far wall for a few moments. "But I suppose, I could tell the tale of Guthrim the Foresters Apprentice."

"I'd first met Guthrim a few years ago when Gorm purchased several wagon loads of wood. All the signs were pointing to a particularly hard winter. The squirrels were fat as could be. We watched flock after flock of honking geese fly overhead weeks before they normally would. Verity heard the winds whispering of snow and ice. Even Old Toad was putting an extra layer of mud over his house to keep the winter king's fingers from reaching inside." He pauses, blinks for a few minutes. "Where was I...oh yes, Guthrim."

"Guthrim was a handsome young man, a few years older than myself. Golden hair, a heroes chiseled chin, shoulders grown broad from working axe and saw all day long. It was those fine features that had nearly every lass for leagues all at-witter at dances and festivals."

"I suppose it was those fine features that eventually caught the naiad's attention." A pause as the druid sips his tea.

"Esme's Well is a dark and foreboding place. Tucked deep in the Featherstone Hills whose shoulders dip down into the fertile lowlands where Briarpatch and many other farms earn a good living tending the land. The lowlands are fine and fair and you'll not meet better fey folk in all the Queen's realms. But you get back into the deeps woods and hills..." A shiver runs through his wiry frame as his shakes his head. "Well, lets just say, where light seldom shines, dark things grow."

"That old pond is shrouded in twisted, moss draped trees. Sentinels veiling their mistresses like an old crone's bed. The air is often warm because Esme's anger constantly bubbles to the surface of the pond, filling the air with steam and mist. The damp and warmth offer the perfect home for the white and yellow Heartsfell Orchid. Dozens of the odd, beautiful, and poisonous flowers grow along the shores of that dark pond, blooming only once a year under the silvery light of the midsommer moon."

"Despite the hollow's dark and foreboding nature that any wise denizen of fey lands would know better than to encroach upon, Guthrim thought the place quite nice and the perfect place for his many assignations with more than a few of the young ladies of the valley."

"He told me of the place one day and to my defense I tried mightily to warn him off. I'd heard many a tale of poor Esme, her broken heart, and her descent into madness. I suppose that is a tale for another day." Khalil says thoughtfully. A quick shrug and he continues. "All Guthrim did was laugh in my face. Called me a fool for believing such nonsense. Said if there really was a naiad living in the pond he'd woo her like any of the others. Named me nothing but silly boy, who was just jealous as the girls all swarmed to he and cared nothing for a simple farmer's servant whose soul was bid to the Pumpkin King."

"So it was all that spring he would bring his latest desire up to that lonely place and under the light of the moon they would dance and frolic naked upon the soft mossy shores and the warm moist air next to the old pond." His voice dips, grows almost whisper quiet. For a moment his eyes close and he swallows. "And so it was upon that midsummer night when the orchids bloomed that he brought young Lilliana Meyerson to his preferred place of seduction."

"The night began so many that came before. Guthrim speaking words of beauty and love and most of all desire to the maid. He'd grown quite good and sure of himself by this time. Knew exactly what to say to make a girl think he loved her, would marry her, would be a good and honest soul to match her own through years of mortal life and hardship together. But he meant know of it. All of this Esme, from the depth's of her well, had listened to, been witness to, thrice already upon the previous bright nights of the full moon. Each time her anger at the young man who broke hearts as if they were nothing more than cheap two copper pottery grew."

"By the time the shortest night was upon us, that dark naiad had made a vow to put and end to the young mortal's escapades upon her quiet shores."

"While Guthrim whispered sweet meaningless words in young Lilly's ear, the usually calm surface of the pond began to churn and boil. Before either young man or woman realized what was happening the dripping sultry form of the dark haired water spirit rose from the waters. Long, void-black locks of hair swirled and twirled and reached out to the shore. There they slowly wrapped themselves around Guthrim's naked body, him thinking it was just Lilly returning his amorous ardor. By the time he realized such was not the case, it was much too late. For he was caught like a fish in a net. No manner of struggle or plea for mercy and aide could free him from the water spirits deathly grasp."

"'You wish to foul the shores of my home with your lies and betrayals. Come inside and whisper in my ear. Come inside and share your warmth and your mortal desire with one less innocent than these flighty young fools who dance and spin to you beck and call.' The aethereal voice of the naiad whispered in their ears, like the death's night wind drifting through the trees. Lilly's screams were quickly silenced by a stray strand of that black web of death, even as Guthrim's own cries echoed off the hills, until Esme finally dragged him into the dark depths of that pond. His hand still clutching a bright orchid stem."

"Gorm had me working late that night, trying to keep the pixies out of the twinkleberry fields. So it was that I can still here Guthrim's dying screams drifting down out of the hills upon the midnight breeze."

"We found poor Lilliana three days later. Starving, cold, her golden hair turned pure white. A madness filled her mind for months. Until finally, with Verity's help, I was able to develop a herbal tonic that took away her nightmares and for the first time she slept a full night through. A few weeks later, she was able to relate the events of that night. The last I heard she had gone off to Baldur's Gate to one of the temples there. I hope she finds peace. As for Guthrim, well, I can only guess his bones still sit at the bottom of Esme's Well, wooing the naiad beneath the light of the full moon."

Having finished his tale, Khalil sits back in his chair quietly, thoughtfully sipping the last of his tea.


31/31 HP | AC: 17 | Intiative: -1 | Passive Perception: 12 | DV 60ft | Saves: WIS, CHA | Lay On Hands 0/10 | Conditions: None
Spell Slots:
1st - 2/2

Nuruk sat in interest as the tales were shared amidst one another, the sweet dryad starting first. When she explained the story and what had happened, Nuruk, raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. He looked towards Khalil, nodding softly at the man. Fey justice, when a wrong was committed, was as brutal as it was creative. When reality was subjective and able to change, this was a dangerous place to commit a crime.

Each tale carried its own hilarity or its own lesson, each one being worth listening to. When it came to Nuruk, the golden scales on his face flushed and he sat back for a moment before shrugging.

"A knight does not share tales. Sorry friends." He said with a little smile, remembering something but keeping it to himself.

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