I am respectfully withdrawing from this game. I apologize for any inconvenience.
Search Posts
-------------
After staring for a few long moments at the peculiar, unsettling "humans", Hedgerow cupped his hand to his mouth and called out to them,
Just chiming in here, I don't really have anything to add or say, so I'm just waiting for the next GM post.
The cursed-black tiger resumed his true dwarven form after a short while, eager to feels his own skin and bones once again. He still didn't understand the nature of what had occurred to him, though he felt it lingering in his blood. He walked in silence alongside his fellow soldiers during the return to camp, contemplative of his new druidic powers and how this curse may impact him. -------- Seeing some of the starved elves now in the war camp evoked both relief and sadness in Hedgerow. He was certainly glad to see they wouldn't starve for a hopeless pursuit of rigid loyalty to their home turf, but he was saddened to see that it came to this at all. People should be free to make whatever decisions they wanted, in pursuit of their own health and happiness. Whoever...or whatever burned the forest was responsible for much hurt, and Hedgerow meant to make them pay, given the chance. Not feeling very festive, he declined to join the musicians with his drumming. He went to bed early, ready to put this troubling day behind him.
Tiger stats: Tiger Large beast, unaligned AC 12, HP 37 (5d10 + 10) Speed 40 ft. STR 17(+3), DEX 15(+2), CON 14(+2), INT 3(−4), WIS 12(+1), CHA 8(−1) Skills Perception +3, Stealth +6 Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13 Challenge 1 (200 XP) Keen Smell. The tiger has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell. Pounce: If the tiger moves at least 20 feet straight
---------- Cursed! •Whenever Hedgerow uses wildshape, there is a 50% chance to enter shadow-form. (Low rolls = shadow form, high rolls = no effect).
•Upon entering this shadow-form, a blast of 1d6 necrotic damage damages every creature within a 30' radius (not-preventable) •Upon entering this shadow-form, Hedgerow must make a DC 12 Con save or be subjected to one of two affects: Roll 1d2. (1) - Hedgerow's intelligence becomes 3 for the duration of your wildshape (preventing controlled transformation back and the ability to make any plans, but it does not interfere with the ability to tell friend from foe), (2) - gain sunlight sensitivity (as a drow) for the duration of the wildshape. •Hedgerow needs to make these checks every time he wildshapes. The curse can be removed with a remove curse spell, or a lesser restoration spell cast from a 3rd level spell slot on your shadow-form.
The black and white striped hunting cat was suddenly enshrouded in a black, pure and dark as a devil heart. His powerful claws were tingling with fel energy, somehow empowered by the black soot-like riverbed that he touched. He turned his head toward his friends' voices, that of Rook and Chase, and saw a look of shock and concern upon their faces. An inner concern then began to grow. What have I done? Seeing the rest of the group milling about the shattered tree, he ran back over to them, trying to pretend for the moment that nothing was awry in spite of himself.
I have to make 3 saves every time I use my primary class ability? Seems a bit harsh.
The tiger placed its paw in the water, trying to pad at the unusual black riverbed to feel what it may be made of - or what it might mean for the group's future actions.
The large cat suddenly caught a scent upon the wind, one that carried the stench of rot and decay, coming from somewhere deeper within the woods. He tensed up, posturing as a form of communication to both his soldier-friends and the dog, then let out a growl. He then began walking in the direction of the scent, sniffing all the way to reestablish the trail. Hedgerow paused for a moment to turn his head, checking to see if anyone was following.
The large tiger pulled back slightly but did not avoid the dog's affections. It had not yet exhibited any malicious behaviors, so he saw no harm in it. Something about being in this form had a strange effect on the hill dwarf's mindset. A sudden urge almost against his will came over Hedgerow as he felt inclined to lick the animal back. In an effort to fully experience what it was to be a cat, he indulged the inclination and licked the demon-dog's fur several times in return.
The tiger looked at the adorable demon-dog, wondering whether he should kill it or give it a good home. Hedgerow then moved alongside Elena, trying to reassure her with his presence while she investigated the strange find.
Hedgerow looked at the drow elf with a raised eyebrow, unsure if he was being sarcastic or just being drow. He raised his hand as a swirling green energy coalesced, sending energy tendrils to seal up his open demon-claw wounds. The dwarf's features began to shift, almost as if the muscle and bones beneath his skin were at war with one another. Half a moment later all of his gear had fused with his body, which had altered in form to that of a massive black and white striped hunting cat. He stared into the drow's eyes, his whiskers pulled back in a sneer as he rumbled a dangerous feline low growl. Being unable to speak in this form, he ended this moment of silly self-indulgent chest thumping by mustering what he hoped passed for a 'smile' on the new form's face to communicate no hard feelings. To further the notion, he walked toward Rook and rubbed bodily against him, much as a housecat might, though in a grander fashion. Hedgerow-the-tiger then padded over to the broken tree to get a better look at the furry thing that had yet to reveal itself fully to the group of soldiers. He walked softly as he approached, then sniffed the air in an attempt to harness the enhanced senses of this new animal form.
Tiger stats: Tiger Large beast, unaligned AC 12, HP 37 (5d10 + 10) Speed 40 ft. STR DEX CON INT WIS CHA 17 (+3) 15 (+2) 14 (+2) 3 (−4) 12 (+1) 8 (−1) Skills Perception +3, Stealth +6 Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13 Languages — Challenge 1 (200 XP) Keen Smell. The tiger has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on smell. Pounce. If the tiger moves at least 20 feet straight toward a creature and then hits it with a claw attack on the same turn, that target must succeed on a DC 13 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. If the target is prone, the tiger can make one bite attack against it as a bonus action. Actions Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 8 (1d10 + 3) piercing damage. Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) slashing damage.
Hit points gained: 5 (druid) + 3(Con) +1 (Hill dwarf) = 9. New total of 21.
Hedge swung his warhammer to and fro, trying finish his foes before they could finish him. The bloody gashes in his side were sticking to the inside of his bearhide armor, distracting him from a focused aim.
"Get it together ye damn fool!" he griefed to himself.
Its fine! If I can survive to level 2 (and beyond), I can shapeshift which gives me free pools of temporary HP, so soaking damage will be my job. ...If, I can survive!
The fiends were numerous and vicious. He suddenly regretted wading into the fray, though he did land a powerful blow that was followed up upon by one of his companions. When the manes attacked him he felt their disgusting claws ripping at his skin, inflicting serious wounds. The dwarf decided that his life was more important that any further pretense, and so he used some nature magic to seal up his wounds.
"Demons!"
Hedgerow raised his hammer and charged the nearest mane-demon, swinging his steel with all his might.
"There's somethin' else in the tree, somethin' furry! Another demon?!"
"Ye skinny white-aired poof, when I'm done with the tree-demon my hammer's comin' for yer arse!" He looked to the drow and smiled, giving him a wild-eyed look that was somewhere between appreciative comic relief and exasperation.
"Quiet! Do ye hear that soond? There's a scratchin' from inside!" Hedgerow brandished his warhammer suddenly, sending a flex motion up and down his fingers and he gripped the handle.
Trepidation welled up inside of him as he heard the elf describe what seemed to be hellfire. What this portended, he couldn't say yet, but it had great potential for evil. When the nugget of Olithok was displayed it took his mind off of things for the moment, sending him back to one of his earliest memories; his father, a traveling tradesman, had acquired some of the rare metal and sold it to human who claimed it was for some lord's new sword. Before it was traded, his father told him of the great dwarf smiths that used these rare metals to make the finest weapons and armor in the world. His father always had a prideful gleam in his eye when he spoke of dwarf culture. ------ "Aye, show us the tree," said Hedgerow, simply.
Hedgerow almost laughed out loud when the diplomat was silenced. What a ludicrous endeavor this was turning out to be! As he had no information about why the diplomat was being escorted, he found his friend Chase's questions to be sufficient for now, and so added nothing to the conversation just yet.
** Elven - "...Do you have magic to help grow food?"** The druid became a bit self-conscious, knowing that he did indeed have such magic, but it wasn't particularly powerful and wouldn't provide the needed yield to remedy the hunger of so many. If he had time and no current obligations... but alas, he did not. ---------------- Hedgerow grew startled for a moment when the voice intruded upon his consciousness. Identifying the "speaker" as one of his own, Borak, he turned and nodded. He was unsure if he could respond in kind, so he first delivered that affirmative motion. He thinks the words, in hopes that they will be communicated back toward Borak,
He turned to the starved elves,
Elven:
"We are en route on a diplomatic mission and we cannot help you further. It is probably not your first choice, but I should tell you that if you go back the way we came--", he motioned in the direction of the army's camp, "and you volunteer to join the army's ranks or even as laborers, you will very likely be given shelter, food and drink for the duration of your employ. That is the best I can offer." ----------------
After his words with the elves, he then began to wonder how powerful this man called Borak was. It was no small feat to communicate in this fashion. He may be much more than meets the eye. Hedgerow thought he better have more discipline of mind than he usually practices, in case someone is listening. ---------------- The dwarf raised an eyebrow at Rook's callous action, though he wasn't surprised. His ebon-skinned folk had a most sinister of reputations, rivaling that of his own outcast dwarves - the duergar. He suddenly pondered what reaction he might have if a hostile group of starving duergar dwarves made a move against him. Would I act any differently? I would like to think so.
The dwarf nodded at Elena's translations. "D'augustino has the right of it. They be starvin' and desperate, nothin' more." Hedgerow fished out his own waterskin and rations, sharing some - but not all - of them with the hungry elves. He prodded further, hoping for answers in between gulps and chews. Elven: "Is there truly no food or water to be found? I see that the trees are burned but surely you must have areas where food can still be found? Are there more of you out there? If you have a group, tell them to flee the forest if you cannot find means to live. War is brewing and that can only be bad for you."
Hedge did his best to remain impassive though he was perturbed at the needless destruction of the wood. Fire was nature's cleanser and certainly had its place in the natural order of things, but when its purpose was grounded in war, the loss of life wasn't worth the damage caused. On the brighter side he realized the lack of foliage would make it more difficult for an enemy to sneak up on... Suddenly the elf warriors sprung an attack with spears held firmly in their grip. Hedgerow was well aware of the elven ability to blend in their natural terrain, but he was impressed that it these were still able to do so in the burnt, wasted landscape.
In the tongue of the elves, Hedgerow shouted firmly at the attackers -
Elven:
"Hold it! We don't want to fight you! We're on a diplomatic mission, but if you don't settle down we'll have no choice but to defend ourselves -- and that is a battle you won't win."
Though Hedgerow hadn't yet met these wood elves he felt more than up to this task as he had spent the last several decades - indeed, most of his life - alongside wood elves. He glanced sidelong at the drow elf, wondering what he thought of the upcoming excursion. His people had waged war on surface elves for centuries, much as they had waged war upon them first, driving them deep into the underdark caverns of the world.
The druid didn't sleep particularly well. Having the stink of so many soldiers around detracted from his preferred solitude. "I'mma comin', I'mma comin'," said Hedgerow as the bugle call woke him from the poor rest. He took a few minutes to breath and focus his thoughts in meditation -- he pictured himself atop a stone outcropping overlooking a tranquil lake within a deep wood, with no other humanoids with many miles in any direction. It was 'here' that he was able to commune with the spirits of the world, spirits that had embraced him since the loss of his blood family. He knew he didn't have time for a proper meditation session, but even a few minutes helped to set his mind in order. He gathered up his loose gear into his pack, strapped on his weapons, and made his way to the muster.
I would assume being in the midst of an army of 100k+ would preclude the need for setting watches in the traditional sense. There are scouts on horseback and temporary guard towers on watch.
Hedgerow raised an eyebrow at this newcomer, seeming very confident and desirous of others' attention. Is she our sergeant? He had no reason to doubt it, especially considering the crisp new armor she war. Only those wealthy or important could afford new armor. He then looked at his own attire, wrapped in thick bear-hide crafted into strapped armor; he remembered the fight with the bear - it seemed like an age ago when the hungry bear happened upon him and wouldn't submit to his druidic magic of animal friendship. He had little choice that day, but after the battle he honored the beast by taking its skin and donning it in homage to its ferocity. As much as he'd come to love his hide suit, it set him apart when compared to the officer's fine boiled leathers.
... "How do you feel being moved from the rear to the front? If needed, are you sure you'll be able to...kill a man?" "Feelin's don't matter much. What 'appens 'appens. But since ye asked, I dinnae see meself as a 'front-liner'. I can swing a hammer, don't ye doubt, and I've killt bafore, but I'm more of a wild card. I'm a woodsman, a tracker, a guide--", he then gave a shrewd look and raised and eyebrow, "...and I've a few more tricks up me sleeve."
I'm a bit under the weather, sorry for no recent posts. I'll post again asap.
"I admit I have little experience in soldierin', though I been helpin' soldiers fer years. I'm a woodsman, see. I can live off the land, track enemies, tell allies the secret trails and places -- I've been around fightin' men for a long time but this--" he looked around to the massive encampment, "--is new to me." Hedge looked out over the beautiful rolling hills and pondered the strange dichotomy of the horrors of war often being nestled right up against such peaceful and beautiful nature. He suddenly felt a longing to be out there, away from the hustle and bustle of such a large encampment. The gleam in his eye was dispelled quickly as he got a whiff of the nearby latrine on the wind. "If'n there's anathing I learnt 'bout war is to 'spect the unexpected." He spent the next while chatting with his new acquaintance, then his stomach began to rumble a bit. The slop they called 'stew' didn't sit well with the hill dwarf and so he didn't eat more than a few bites. He looked at Chase and then to anyone still hovering nearby from their performance. "Anybody hungry? How's some grilled fish sound?" He stood up from the log and went to the armory for a spear, then traipsed on down to the river where he was hoping to find some fish.
The druid sensed the player's song was coming to an end, confirmed by a nod from the man just before the final note. With a crescendo from his lyre and a last loud thump of his drum, the pair finished their song with a flourish. He smiled to the man and to the gathering, then reached a calloused hand out to his impromptu music partner. "The name's 'edgerow. Pleasure. So, what do ye make-a this crazy group of flotsam and jetsam? Think they'll - we'll be up to whatever task is laid before us?"
GM, can you provide us a little bit more context regarding who we're joining, what conflict(s) are going and what are natures of these conflicts, what nation are we in, who are the powers that be, etc. This would help me to establish a foundation for RP to build upon.
Hedgerow was going to have to get used to this soldier camp life. He struggled to set up his tent, as he was not used to the task, being more than comfortable sleeping in the branches of a tree or under the stars. He saw a few others around him struggle as well which made him feel a little less self-conscious. One such soldier was another dwarf, though not one of the 'hill' variety like himself. It was a mountain dwarf, one who apparently also wielded magic and was not afraid to display it openly. He would have to keep his eye on that one, especially since their peoples had a history of bad blood. He hoped she was an odd-one out like he was; Hedgerow held only a few dwarven traditions and fewer still of their prejudices. After pitching his tent to relative satisfaction (his lines still weren't taut...) he began looking around to make some observations. Thus far it seemed that this motley assortment of knuckleheads should be entertaining if nothing else. For now, he figured it would be best if he made some sort of acquaintances. He pulled out his simple hide drum and began to play a slow but steady rhythm, one that would help focus his mind and maybe even draw the attentions of a new friend. He played as he walked, heading in the direction of the human who had played the lyre a few minutes ago. Without stopping his deep-toned thrumming tempo, he said
Hedgerow is a dwarf often shunned by other dwarves due to his intrinsic druidic talent and lifestyle. He has learned that cities of goodly (and evil) folk serve their purpose in the grand scheme of existence and that it is in his best interest to learn to interact with civilization as well as he can with nature. He has a hatred of tyranny and "might makes right", mostly because of the murderous giants that killed his father and clan members, and so has devoted his life to helping battle any force that threatens the simple tranquility of neutrality. In wartime conflict he picks the side that battles the greater threat to these principles. --------- I have the 5e PHB, DMG, and MM but I haven't thoroughly read the DMG so I am not all that familiar with the variant rules you refer to. At this point I don't have much of an opinion to offer on that front. As a player I'd love to see some moral quandaries, gritty war torn villages/scenes to interact with NPCs, interesting factions that play roles in the background but that may affect our decisions, good player-to-player cooperation, good narrative writing, and a healthy regular posting desire from everyone.
Here is Zedth's submission: , hill dwarf druid, outlander.
Story:
The dwarf now known as Hedgerow was once known by a different name, though it has been lost to time and likely will not be remembered. The young lad was part of a merchant clan of hill dwarves that made good coin by spearheading trade opportunities between the peoples of Geoff and Ulek, and the many villages between. The young dwarf remembers little of his father, save his fierce devotion to the dwarven god of battle - Clangeddin. On a fateful day the father's caravan was traveling through the great Dim Forest when they were assaulted by a raiding party of giants. The hill dwarf clan caravaneers were not prepared for such an onslaught and were no match for the invaders. Shoving the young dwarf into the woods, his father shooed him to safety with a few hasty parting words, then returned to the clan to buy his son adequate time to disappear into the forest. The dwarf child ran into the wood with tears streaming down his face, unsure of his father's fate, unsure of where he would go, unsure even of his next meal. The child traveled all day, finally succumbing to sleep in the nook of a sturdy tree branch. The following lonely day turned into days and the days revealed nothing but unending trees. His rumbling stomach combined with his fierce determination to survive (so that his father had not perished in vain) led him to an inner strength that he never knew existed. There was something about the woods that sparked an inner fire -- a fire that quite literally manifested as flames that erupted from his palm. Not comprehending the 'how', the young dwarf intuitively pointed the flames at a coney hiding under a hedge. FOOM! He stood wide-eyed for a moment, staring in disbelief. Not only had he conjured flame from nothingness, but he had sent the flame flying toward an agile target! The inviting savory smell of roast rabbit snapped him out of his moment of clarity, and he dove to the forest floor, thrusting the burned coney into his starving mouth. A few short minutes later he stood up to regain his bearings but was taken aback as he met the gaze of a sylvan elf bowman who stood a mere ten feet from where he had feasted upon his kill. The elf spoke to him in the common tongue of men.
--------------- He and the elf spent the next several years together. After going back to the boy's father's caravan and finding nothing but burned wreckage and death, Yistlian and the child decided the child's future was uncertain. The elf took the dwarf boy in, adopted him as his own, and taught him the ways of the woods. Yistlian had witnessed the druidic magic used by the boy and knew it was a unique and special opportunity to influence a youth in a profoundly positive way. The elf was an avid ranger but did his best to instruct the child on how to survive in the wild and how to find his center. Yistlian was confident that further druidic power would manifest in time - and he was right. Named for the place where they first met, the elf began addressing the boy as "Hedgerow", gifting him with a new name to go along with his new life. ---------- Many years went by and eventually Hedgerow went off on his own, though he never forgot his beloved mentor and adopted elven father. Having heard about increased giant activity and other clashing armies in the region, Hedgerow felt an inner fire burning pushing him in a desire to help. He made contact with a scout group led by a half-elf name Vex, hailing from the nearby city of Hochoch. He made a friendship with several scouts, aiding them with information, tracking, and recent intelligence regarding the movements of giant warriors. It wasn't long before he himself joined the ranks of these soldiers, using his magic and warhammer in a fierce determination to end the forces of tyranny.
Traits:
Personality: Values other's safety over his own. Ideal: Liberty. He places utmost importance on self-sufficiency and he suffers no tyranny. He knows that man and beast both thrive under freedom. Bond: Feels it is his duty to protect the weak from those who would exploit them. Animals and people alike. Flaw: Tends to react with violence more often than he should. Appearance: Hedgerow's brown hair has streaks of blonde from sun bleaching and leathery brown skin owing to his extensive time spent outdoors. No one would accuse him of being handsome but he has a rugged strength of determination and confidence that is apparent in his demeanor. His face, chest, and arms are covered in bristly unkempt hair, spilt liberally by many white scars from a life spent working with clawed animals. He is average height and weight for a hill dwarf.
Stats: (+5 to hit; DC 13, Level 1 + Wis 3 = 4 spells) Cantrips: Druidcraft, Produce Flame 1st: (2/2 slots) Animal Friendship, Cure Wounds, Entangle, Faerie Fire ==================
Skills Perception +5 (passive 15), Insight +5, Athletics +3, Survival +5
Languages Common, Dwarfish, Druidic, Elfish Outlander. Feature: Wanderer (Can always recall general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided the land offers sufficient means)
I'm sorry guys, I'm bailing out of this one. Posting is too irregular, people have dropped out, and lately I can't seem to tell what's going on clearly.
Can we get an updated map? Maybe on the campaign summary area at the top of the page? (so we don't have to search for the link later)
"What the devil's goin' on?!"
The druid shrugged. "Couldn't tell ye. Been on me own since I was a boy. Before then I was on the road most'a the time. I'm not a dwarf's dwarf."
Torith slowly walks up to the door..[/ooc]
|