Reinforcing Rune: The shield’s Hardness increases by 3, it gains an additional 44 Hit Points, and its BT increases by 22 (maximum 8 Hardness, 64 HP, and 32 BT).
Hide Shield Hardness 4; HP (BT) 20 (10)
Hide shield w/ rune: Hardness 7, HP 64 BT 32
Shield HP: 64-(15-7) = 56
Tammian:
How long can I survive the environment (aside from the creatures trying to kill me)?
There are no ENVIRONMENTAL issues connected to existing on the ethereal plane. As long as you can find (or have) water and food, you can pretty much just live here. The creatures that inhabit it might be another matter. But such creatures are also on the material plane, as you know.
Do I know any ways of returning myself to the primary plane?
Sometimes, there could be access points to the material plane from the ethereal. That is actually one of the theories theories addressing the presence of ghosts on the material plane. In addition to that, the spider that grabbed it and sprayed its juices on you somehow forced you to plane shift. So if you were to take it down and find the gland that produces that substance, you could use that to shift back.
Tammian, Perception:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
Looking around, you can see some tree trunks that shine with a misty ethereal glimmer. You imagine squeezing through these sections could take you back to the material plane as well.
I swear I am missing things left and right here. Adding the damage from this attack on Harper to the previously dealt damage and rolling an additional d6 for extra damage.
Harper, Poison Damage:1d6 ⇒ 5
Aramil is up to finish the round.
The creature you are flanking seems to be hanging on a thread.
~~Arachnid Ambush~~ Turn 2+3
Conditions: Due to thick webbing and roots, all of the map is considered difficult terrain.
Tammian / -6 HP
Aramil
Spider / -21 HP
Biped 1 / -56 HP
Biped 2 / -23 HP
Harper / -36 HP, off-guard, quickened until end of round 12, and slowed 1 (1 round) (note slowed counteracts quickened, so only 3 actions on your next turn, then back to quickened)
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm looks at his battered shield while pointedly ignoring his battered self. "Well, that isn't going to last all that much longer. Plan B." He casts Mystic Armor. He also weaves some of the energy around his staff and swats at the spider with it.
Male Elf Vampire, Wizard 7 | HP 55 | AC 22 (23 With Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +14; Will +12; | Perception +10 (+2 Initiative from Elven Instincts) | Speed 35 | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Detect Magic)
"Looks like this one is finished. How are you holding up Harper?"
Aramil releases an all-out offensive on the creature caught between him and Harper. Casting Void Warp and then lashing out with a claw.
Meanwhile, in the ethereal realm, the spider is now on its spindly and ready to pounce. First, it attempts to tie Tammian up with its silky threads before attempting to bite down.
The fangs miss, but Tammian is immobilised in place. (Escape DC of 24)
It then retreats into the distance, as if waiting for something. 20 ft away
Aramil calls forth the void to drain life from one of the bipedal creatures. Its veins darken as it collapses to the floor, letting out its last breath. The other one charges at Aramil to entangle him with freshly spun silver webbing before attempting to bite him.
Amaril is stuck to the ground through the webbing. (DC 22 Acrobatics to escape)
~~Arachnid Ambush~~ Turn 3+4
Conditions: Due to thick webbing and roots, all of the map is considered difficult terrain.
Tammian / -6 HP
Aramil
Spider / -21 HP
Biped / -23 HP
Harper / -36 HP, off-guard, quickened until end of round 12, and slowed 1 (1 round) (note slowed counteracts quickened, so only 3 actions on your next turn, then back to quickened)
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
"Oh, you'll have to run farther than that, bud," Tamm calls out to the spider. He follows the words with a lancing blast of void energy, then tries in vain to extricate himself from the webbing.
Male human zombie fighter 7 HP 113 | AC 21 | Fort +15; Ref +13; Will +13; | Perception +15 +2 initiative | Speed 25 | Spell DC 15 | Exploration (Keep Watch)
I've had worse.
Harper moves over to the last biped and amacks it with his sword before returning to dueling stance.
Spider fort save DC 25:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (18) + 15 = 33 Biped fort save DC 25:1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
Seeing Tammian struggle against the webbing and failing, the spider suddenly disappears, letting his prey to tire itself.
Meanwhile, Aramil and Harper assault the remaining biped with the power of the void and the ol' reliable - physical violence. And while Aramil is still bound to the forest floor via webbing, Harper looks around and sees Tammian is nowhere in sight, still. The FOrest is quiet for a hot second before a large spider appears out of thin air, moving with unnatural speed over the webbing as it charges at Harper, fangs bared.
And since I don't have actions left, he can't grab you, so you're good to go.
I will need a Fort save from Harper here. DC 24 basic save, if you fail you will get the clumsy 1 condition in addition to the appropriate amount of poison damage.
~~Arachnid Ambush~~ Turn 4+5
Tammian / -6 HP
Aramil
Spider / -27 HP
Harper / -47 HP + poison (see above), quickened until end of round 12
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm lets the magical energy he was gathering dissipate as the spider abruptly fades out of view. "Huh. Well, that might actually be far enough." He tries again to extract himself from the webbing and checks out the apparitions congregating in the area a bit more. He also looks around to see if he can find where that villager that just got taken happens to be.
Acrobatics escape:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (13) + 13 = 26
◆ Escape, ◆ Recall Knowledge, ◆ Seek Recall Knowledge question: Are these humanoid shapes in the mist intelligent and sentient enough that I could try communicating with them, or are they more like spirit fragments and energy echoes?
Male human zombie fighter 7 HP 113 | AC 21 | Fort +15; Ref +13; Will +13; | Perception +15 +2 initiative | Speed 25 | Spell DC 15 | Exploration (Keep Watch)
fort:1d20 + 16 ⇒ (15) + 16 = 31
if this thing has its heart set on capturing me all I can do is delay the inevitable. Harper strikes once with his sword then attempts to grab the spider. Regardless of the result he then makes two more strike attempts with his sword.
Male human zombie fighter 7 HP 113 | AC 21 | Fort +15; Ref +13; Will +13; | Perception +15 +2 initiative | Speed 25 | Spell DC 15 | Exploration (Keep Watch)
The clearing succumbs to a heavy, uneasy silence after the spider's grotesque defeat. Its crumpled body oozes ichor onto the ground, the final remnants of its menace pooling in dark puddles beneath faint, trembling moonlight. The air seems thicker now, oppressive, as if the forest itself holds its breath. Shadows twist unnaturally, growing longer, as though the trees are leaning inward, closing the clearing off from the world beyond.
One glaring truth pierces the silence: Tammian is not here. His absence looms like a wound in the night. The spider's sticky silk strands dangle lazily from branches, swaying in the cool breeze, each strand a mocking reminder of his disappearance. The faint forest whispers seem louder now, almost cruel, each rustling leaf and shifting branch asking the same unspoken question: Where is he?
Farther ahead, the flickering glow of the mob’s torches fades, obscured by dense foliage. Their shouts and muttered words diminish, swallowed by the forest’s insatiable stillness. Soon, only faint sparks of firelight remain visible through the trees, and even those threaten to disappear entirely. The silence left behind feels absolute, cold, and hollow, as though the forest itself mourns—or conspires.
The clearing grows colder, the stillness gnawing at the edges of reason. The faint light of the moon struggles against the encroaching darkness, leaving the sense that the forest knows something you do not. It waits.
What will you do?
Tammian:
You take a better look and find yourself in a world of shifting mists, where every step feels as though you tread on an illusion of solidity. The Ethereal Plane stretches endlessly in all directions, a translucent echo of the Prime Material world. The air here is neither cold nor warm, carrying an otherworldly neutrality that settles uneasily on your senses. The strands of your now-tattered cocoon lie at your feet, sticky and faintly glistening, a reminder of how narrowly you escaped the spider's clutches.
Shapes linger in the distance, their forms fluid but humanoid. They drift with deliberate motion, as though observing you from the edge of perception. Their gaze is neither hostile nor welcoming; it feels detached, like the curiosity of a distant scholar examining a new subject. You notice how they retreat whenever you focus too closely, their forms melding back into the mist.
The plane itself seems calm, almost serene, though there’s a disquieting sense of disconnection. You know that dangers exist here—wandering predators native to this realm—but none seem present for now. Instead, your thoughts turn to escape. Somewhere in this liminal expanse are natural pathways back to the Prime Material Plane, fragile connections between worlds. They are rare, subtle, and easy to overlook, but you know they are your best chance of returning.
Nearby, your attention is drawn to another cocoon, fresh and motionless, wrapped tightly against the trunk of a shadowy tree. Its strands are glossy, their texture identical to the one that held you captive. The cocoon’s shape suggests a humanoid form inside—perhaps the man you saw vanish during the mob's pursuit. The sight is unsettling, the eerie stillness of the cocoon amplifying the silence around you. The mist drifts lazily past it, as if it, too, is uninterested in revealing the cocoon’s secrets.
The mist occasionally shifts, revealing faint glimpses of features from the material world—a tree root, a half-seen boulder—but they vanish as quickly as they appear. You have no sense of direction here; the way forward must be found through sharp observation, intuition, and luck. The silence around you presses gently on your thoughts, urging you to move, to search.
You are alone, but the Ethereal Plane is not empty. Those shapes in the mist still linger, still watch. Perhaps they will help—or perhaps they will merely observe. Whatever their intentions, the path home is yours to find.
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
"Ehh. Let 'em watch then," Tamm mutters to himself. He stashes his staff and gives the webbing at his feet a final kick for good measure.
Seeing the other cocoon nearby, he starts heading over there.
Which is easier said than done. The spider certainly made it look easy to move around in this strange place. But moving seems to be more an act of will than of physical exertion. Very strange.
Once he finally makes it over to the cocoon, he pulls at the webbing to see about getting it open.
His expression hardens at the realization. "That's an ether spider. Which means Tamm is probably trapped on the ethereal plane." He turns to his other companion. "I don't have a way to travel there, and it could take a while to find a way over."'A long while.'
Resigned to his friend's situation, he begins to follow the mob again. "Shall we finish the job we started out on?"
Male human zombie fighter 7 HP 113 | AC 21 | Fort +15; Ref +13; Will +13; | Perception +15 +2 initiative | Speed 25 | Spell DC 15 | Exploration (Keep Watch)
@Aramil: Well, that roll wouldn't really do it, but the cat's out of the bag and I will leave it be.
The mist clings thickly to the air around Tammian, shifting in languid currents as if alive with its own subtle will. Shapes flicker at the edge of perception—humanoid phantoms that emerge only to dissolve into nothingness. Around Tammian, the ethereal landscape feels fluid and unstable, save for a few eerie constants: towering, warped trees with bark like polished glass, ancient boulders wreathed in translucent haze, and above him, a sluggish river of luminescent ether winding through the sky like a pale, celestial vein.
Determined, Tammian approaches the cocoon. Its glossy surface glistens faintly, an ominous promise of what lies within. As his claws tear away the sticky layers, the heavy, cloying odour of decay wafts forth. Within the cocoon is the bloated corpse of a man, his single remaining shoe hanging loosely, his plain linen garments soaked with brownish, pus-like fluid oozing from every orifice. Torn fabric at the chest reveals two deep punctures—bite marks leaking the same noxious substance. This poor soul, drawn here by fear or folly, had clearly been no match for the Echo Wood.
As Tammian steps back, his sharp gaze pierces the mist, catching faint glimpses of familiar figures. Aramil and Harper, faint and insubstantial, move through the spider's hunting grounds on the material plane. Their forms are spectral, echoes that ripple through the veil between worlds. Yet, as Tammian watches, they fade. First into the haze, then into obscurity, leaving him alone in this strange, spectral expanse.
Back on the material plane, Aramil and Harper trudge forward, their boots sticking to the stubborn webbing strewn across the forest floor. The occasional abandoned object - a boot, a crude pitchfork, or a broken walking stick - marks the path of the group of men ahead of you, as if the woods themselves are stripping them bare. The torches ahead grow faint, swallowed by the dense trees, while the forest transforms. The bark darkens to an unnatural hue, brittle twigs littering the ground snap underfoot, and the air feels heavy with silence. Just like the start of a bad joke, two dead men walk into a dead forest. If nothing else, the withered tree tops at least give way to the milky shine of the moon that slowly hovers above.
I would also like to point out that it's been around 2 hrs since you have left your abode tonight. Something to think about.
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
"Poor schmuck," Tamm says as a bit of an epitaph over the corpse of the villager.
Catching glimpses of reality and noticing that Harper and Aramil are continuing the mission, Tamm follows along as best as he can while keeping a careful eye out for any weak points and rifts that may allow him to cross back.
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm remembers seeing what looked like a rift while fighting that spider. Probably with that thing shifting between planes constantly it opened several of them. But it is hard to keep track of direction and orientation in this misty expanse. The creepy apparitions skirting around the fringes of his vision aren't helping his anxiety any either.
Fairly quickly Tamm finds one of these rifts. A spark of color and sound that is clearly not native to this expanse of mostly gray silence. He tentatively touches it and finds that it has no substance. Instead it seems to expand - ever so slightly - as his material substance comes near. He puts his hand into it.
Then quickly pulls his hand back. "Yeow. That's hot." He flaps his hand a bit trying to cool it down. "Plane of fire maybe? Portal to a volcano? In any case, not somewhere I want to be spending much time."
He moves along - trying to go in a straight line following the direction he saw the others heading in. Though that is easier said than done here. He finds another rift and tries this one as well. When he sticks his hand in it, it at least doesn't burn. "Well, here goes."
He grabs his shield and staff and tries to use them to wedge the rift open farther. It doesn't work well. But he does eventually manage to get them through, along with his hands up to the elbows. "Moment of truth," he mumbles to himself. He takes a moment to glance around and make sure that none of these apparitions are trying anything while he is tangled up in this rift. Then he plunges his head into the rift.
Wriggling and squirming, he makes his way through. The boundary between the planes isn't very long, but it is a tight squeeze. After several minutes, he can feel a breeze blowing against his fingers. 'Hopefully no the plane of air,' he thinks to himself, having no breath to spare to try and speak the words.
Another minute of wriggling and he gets his head out of the rift on the other side. At first, all he can see is tree branches and stars. He quickly scans around and finds that he is emerging from a knothole of a tree. A knothole about 15 feet above the ground, from what he can determine.
He drops his shield and staff and hears them thump on the ground below. He checks the tree for branches that he can use to climb down with. The only one that he sees is not at a great angle, but it will have to do. He gets his shoulders free and feels gravity starting to take hold. He tries to guide himself around to that one branch as his lower half starts slipping out of the planar rift. Then he is falling.
Grab an Edge:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
He catches the branch as he falls. He dangles from the branch, reassessing things. Stretched out to his full halfling length, he is probably only about 8 feet from the ground now. Tamm lets go and drops the remaining distance, landing with a louder thump than his equipment did. The equipment that he quickly grabs and stows.
Tamm doesn't know exactly where he is in the forest. Surely he couldn't have gone too far. It at least feels like the same forest, so that is good. He shifts to full wolf form - a rather small wolf, only barely larger than a fox. A sleek white and silver wolf with dark ears and a dark stripe down his back and one black sock on a front foot.
Tamm sniffs the air and listens on the wind. He can see the spider webbing scattered around the area. Even more evidence that he hasn't emerged far from where he left. He gets his bearings from the moon and sets off through the forest in a crosswise direction from the path they were taking previously. 'Should cross the trail here shortly. In one direction or the other.'
Luck is with him, and Tamm quickly comes across another pitchfork laying in the dirt. He sniffs around and follows the villager pack.
A short while later, and he can see Aramil and Harper in the distance. He quickly catches up and shifts back to halfling form. "So," he says as he approaches the two, "either of you know what happened to that spider?"
Male Elf Vampire, Wizard 7 | HP 55 | AC 22 (23 With Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +14; Will +12; | Perception +10 (+2 Initiative from Elven Instincts) | Speed 35 | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Detect Magic)
Hearing someone approach at high speed Aramil gets into a battle ready stance. Then recognizing who it is he relaxes.
"Ah, yes. Harper completely eviscerated that spider." He replies, failing to hold back a smirk. "With a bit of assistance."
Aramil briefly examines Tammian. "Of course, I'll like to hear how you managed to get back, but that can wait till later if needed." He takes his place behind the werewolf. "Right now we've got some goat thieves to hunt."
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm looks over at the zombie. "Looks like the eviscerating wasn't completely one-sided," he says, looking Harper over critically. "That won't do."
Focusing for a few seconds, he draws power from deep within himself and sends Harper a large burst of restoring energy.
◆ Nudge the Scales x2: +32 HP Cursebound 2: Weakness 2 (Vitality, Void), -1 status to Fortitude Saves
Tamm himself looks a bit worse for the channeling, but he shrugs it off. "Let's go catch up to these villagers first. They are getting massacred stomping through the forest. There are, what... four of them left or so. I'm surprised they haven't noticed yet."
Tamm heads out following the easy trail of the villagers.
The mob’s trail is clear but haunting—a breadcrumb path of desperation marked by scattered tools, splintered branches, and scraps of fabric snagged on the thorns. The further you press, the more the trees tighten their grip, skeletal limbs forming a claustrophobic canopy that swallows the sky. Each step forward feels heavier, as if the forest itself seeks to hold you back.
The group ahead moves slower now, their voices quieter, punctuated by the occasional hiss of frustration or muttered prayer. The torches they carry cast feeble halos of light, their once-bold flames dimming like the spirit of those holding them. Behind this flickering curtain of humanity, the knights remain steadfast, their armor reflecting brief, harsh gleams in the firelight. But even their youngest’s resolve begins to falter—his stance unsure, his eyes darting into the encroaching dark.
Around you, the dead woods breathe with a kind of stifled vitality, the brambles and branches seeming almost to writhe in the periphery of your vision. The scent of decay hangs heavy, not of fresh rot but the deep, clinging musk of a place long forgotten. Every crack of a snapped twig, every rustling leaf feels amplified, each noise a harbinger of something unseen.
The zeal of the mob is unraveling, thread by thread, and the gap between order and panic narrows with each passing moment. Ahead, their torches continue to bob and weave through the trees, though with every step, they seem to drift further into the consuming embrace of this cursed wood.
Male human zombie fighter 7 HP 113 | AC 21 | Fort +15; Ref +13; Will +13; | Perception +15 +2 initiative | Speed 25 | Spell DC 15 | Exploration (Keep Watch)
Harper hacks a path through the branches and brambles while making his way towards the villagers. Never fear. The cavalry is here! He calls out in a attempt to keep them from panicking.
Male Elf Vampire, Wizard 7 | HP 55 | AC 22 (23 With Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +14; Will +12; | Perception +10 (+2 Initiative from Elven Instincts) | Speed 35 | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Detect Magic)
As they get close Aramil catches Tammian's attention. "So. Are we going to continue stalking them like creepers?" He gestures to the mob of villagers. "I would prefer to talk things out and make this party official, but they seem a bit on edge to put it lightly."
Harper announces "the cavalry is here!"
"Alright then. I guess we're talking things out after all."
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm grabs one of the abandoned boots as they set out to follow the mob of villagers. As they approach, he hurries ahead of the other two so that he is seen first - making sure that he is properly and fully halfling-appearing.
"Well, a pleasant night for a stroll through the forest. How is it going?" He looks around the group of people and holds up the boot. "Did one of you drop this? It looks like something that would be useful to have returned."
As Harper steps into view, the mob recoils in a collective gasp of horror. Eyes widen, lips tremble, and tools clatter faintly as knuckles tighten around makeshift weapons. The sight of his decayed visage draws forth a shrill cry from one of the commoners, the sound sharp enough to pierce the oppressive silence of the forest. Yet, despite their terror, the group is too drained by exhaustion and fear to act. Their courage, already worn thin, crumbles further under the weight of the moment.
In the cold, brittle air of the night, faint wisps of vapor rise from several of their boots, mingling with the distinct acrid stench of ammonia. It’s a stark, undeniable sign of their fraying resolve—fear so visceral that it seeps into the physical world.
Their startled reactions, however, attract the attention of the three soldiers at the head of the group. Alerted by the commotion, the men pivot sharply, their hands reflexively gripping the hilts of their swords as they push through the trembling ranks. The knights’ armor glints faintly in the firelight, their presence a momentary anchor of authority amidst the chaos. As they draw closer, their eyes lock onto Harper’s disfigured form, and their postures stiffen.
"Step aside, men." growls one of them, his voice low and commanding as he draws a gleaming blade. "We’ll cut this creature down befo-" His words falter as his gaze shifts, catching movement in the corner of his vision.
Tammian emerges from the misty dark, his expression resolute but his hands... holding a shoe?
"What is this?" shouts the young soldier, his frustration cutting through the growing confusion. He glances between Tammian and Harper, his face a mask of disbelief. Behind him, the commander narrows his eyes, his imposing zweihander raised and gleaming. The blade catches the torchlight as though eager to strike, yet the man hesitates, his grip steady but uncertain, mirroring the shared bewilderment of all who stand witness to this bizarre encounter. "Why are you here?"
Male Halfling Bones Oracle Werewolf 7 | HP 76 | AC 23 (24 Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +13; Will +16; | Perception +12 | Speed 30 (35 Hybrid) (45 Wolf) | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Search)
Tamm notes the nervousness of the group, but is happy to see that they aren't quite to the point of attacking anything on sight.
Quote:
"Why are you here?"
"Something killed my goats," Tamm replies in a chatty and conversational tone like he is discussing the weather and how the crops are growing. "Something else tried to kill me not too long ago. From the look of it, there are quite a few fewer of you than there were milling around my yard earlier. When was the last time you did a head count?"
With the immediate question out of the way, he addresses the looks people are giving to Harper. "Now, don't mind my friend over here. His own journey down the last river may be a bit delayed, but he won't hurt you right now."
Tamm tosses the boot over to one of the villagers. "This section of forest appears to be the lair of a few spiders. One grabbed me and dragged me off to the Ethereal plane. I saw one of your people all cocooned up in there too after the spider left. Beyond saving though - may his journey down the final river be swift."
"So," Tamm continues, still with that conversational tone, "I figured it would be best to check in with you and see how you are doing."
"Also, you are tromping through the trail of whatever killed my goats. It's making it a lot harder for me to track them down."
"So what do you think - maybe hunker down for a bit and see if we can come up with a bit better strategy? Something that doesn't end up with you all being picked off one by one by invisible spiders."
Male Elf Vampire, Wizard 7 | HP 55 | AC 22 (23 With Mystic Armor) | Fort +10; Ref +14; Will +12; | Perception +10 (+2 Initiative from Elven Instincts) | Speed 35 | Spell DC 25 | Exploration (Detect Magic)
Aramil keeps his distance for a moment, so tammian can explain the situation.
Tammian wrote:
"Now, don't mind my friend over here. His own journey down the last river may be a bit delayed, but he won't hurt you right now."
Taking that as his cue, Aramil steps out of the shadow. "So it seems that cat's out of the bag." He matches Tammian's conversational tone. "Indeed. Your local hermit plays with undead monstrosities. At least as long as we agree to play nice that is." He gives the villagers a polite, close-lipped smile.
The plebeians stumble back, their terror magnified by Harper’s unnatural appearance. Their faces twist in expressions of mingled fear and revulsion, but the soldiers remain steadfast, their discipline seems unbroken, though the young soldier's eyes show doubt. They stand firm, steel glinting faintly as their weapons remain poised at the ready. The air between you is taut, charged with suspicion and unease.
For a moment, the soldiers’ eyes linger on Harper’s rotting form, scanning him with cautious deliberation. The silence stretches, broken only by the faint rustle of dead leaves beneath their boots and the flicker of the dying torches. Finally, the commander speaks, his voice calm but cutting.
"You harbour undead, then? Why?" his tone carries the weight of authority, laced with an undertone of accusation.
The grizzled old soldier to his right steps forward, his face a weathered map of lines etched by years of hard decisions. "And what do you feed them?" he demands, his voice harsher, more judgmental. His gaze shifts to Tammian before addressing the commander directly. "Do they prey on travelers? We can’t allow for that, Veglus."
The commander’s lips press into a thin line, his fingers tightening slightly on the hilt of his zweihander. A heavy pause settles over the clearing, the kind of silence that feels ready to burst under its own weight. Finally, he exhales, his response a grim murmur.
