The creature before you radiates the unmistakable aura of a very powerful fey.
From the deep dark of the silhouette's shadow steps a lithe, naked figure. Elven in form, and female in shape, the creature takes your breathe away. Her skin has a purplish hue, her hair raven-black. The color of her eyes matches her hair, and looking into them makes you feel as if you are peering into a bottomless well of emotion.
You could not imagine a more unlikely creature to find in this bleak land.
When she speaks, you get the overwhelming sense that this is a voice you could listen to for an eternity if she let you.
"Your camp?" she says sternly, "The Fens belong to me Lym Blackhand, and you are here because I wish it to be so. You cannot find your road without my forebearance" She pauses. "Yes, I know you, Lym Blackhand. And your compatriots Thordak, Praxim, and Tomaru. I had heard there were others. A human, Kellen, and a Varisian woman, Rhianni. Yet I do not see them, nor feel them in the Fens."
Her brows furrow as if she is concentrating on something. "No. They are not with you. Yet you bring these with you. A giant..." she practically spits the word, "and one who is two. I shall hold you accountable for their actions here!" And as she speaks these last words, her voice grows in power, and her form seems to grow until it looms over you. The whole of the Fens is lost in the gathering gloom that surrounds her. For a moment she raises her hand as if to bring down mighty magic upon you...
...and then she laughs. "No! You have nothing to fear from me. I am Svevenka, mistress of the Fen of the Icemists. This not Whitewillow, but I know the last time you were there, it was not much better of a place than the Fens."
"Forgive me," she says to Everon, "I do not know you, but you travel with those that saved my kin from a horrible fate, and that is good enough for me."
"As for you," she warns, speaking to Rexil "take care in the accursed city, for it is dangerous for those of your kind." Svevenka stops, as if sensing something about Rexil. She turns to Praxim. "Your guardian is more than...worthy...of keeping you yourself." she continues to Rexil, but her eyes do not leave the paladin.
The hellish beast, self-monikered L'Noor,
strides with purpose across the wooden floor.
'till it reach the portal of the cabin shut.
With force, it draws open the oaken door.
To find nothing awaiting in the snow afore.
In disgust, it turns to Thordak dwarf, "twas the northern wind, nothing more..."
Lym's summons appears, (Wonder how Everon feels about that.) listening carefully to it's orders.
"Impudent mortal, You may call me L'Noor." it hisses at Lym. "Let me see then, what this noise is, this mystery explore. Thy hearts be good, and this I abhor; yet cowards you must be, for 'tis the wind that raps against the door. The northerly wind, and nothing more."
"No." the half elf stated flatly. She squeezed his hands firmly to cut off his response. "We aren't leaving...at least I'm not. I'm done with running from my problems. Plus my boyfriend is on the Ruling Council!" she added with a grin.
'But you didn't see it..." Marcel began. E'Rinn cut him off.
"Don't need to." She set his hands down and moved closer to him, reaching up to brush her hand across the white hair on his forehead. "You aren't a coward, Marcel, I know this. I wouldn't be with you if you were. So I understand that it must have been a terrifying experience, facing this dragon."
Her hand dropped to brush against his cheek. "We - I hope I can say 'we' - aren't leaving. Running will achieve nothing. I remember when you told me about the ogres, and your rage over the children. What will happen to all the children here if we just give up?"
She was right, Marcel knew. Damn her, she was right. About all of it. The kids, the ogres, the dragon, the 'we'...
But that dragon...
"Rinn, I just don't know how to stop that thing." he said desperately.
"You don't have to." she said with conviction. "You have the entirety of the Council for that task. This isn't the first dragon anyone has run into. There is always a way."
M 13 Rogue (Unchained) hp 124/124 AC 27/18/21 F/R/W 11/18/9 Per 18 Stealth 30 SMo 12 Trap 6 Danger 4
"I will see what I can find out."
Marcel left Malaswyn's study and quickly reached the streets. He needed information, and there was one place he knew he could get it.
The River Queen was busy with the evening crowd, and his favorite table was occupied. No matter, he wasn't supposed to be in town anyway. He strode straight up to the long bar, leaning in to to make sure the half-elf woman behind the bar could see him in the mirror. She was busy cleaning some crockery or another, but she saw the movement reflected in front of her. Her eyes went wide for a brief second, but the half-elf hid it quickly.
"You're back." she said matter-of-factly, turning around. But her voice showed she knew something was wrong.
"We were...delayed." he said with a slight wince. "I need some help with some information. Most likely obscure, maybe impossible, but it's important."
"Why not ask your friend, Nicoleta?" E'Rinn retorted acidly.
Marcel looked hard at the half-elf. "This isn't the time, E'Rinn. Not now." He dropped his voice so that only she might hear him, despite the crowd. "Oberlin is nothing but a statue, Kriger nearly died. This is important."
She held his gaze for moment, then nodded. "Come and see me later, we'll talk." She paused, her eyes growing soft. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." he lied, and she knew it. 'Keep a bag packed, I'll be by after closing."
M 13 Rogue (Unchained) hp 124/124 AC 27/18/21 F/R/W 11/18/9 Per 18 Stealth 30 SMo 12 Trap 6 Danger 4
It didn't take very long for the boss to show up. A comfortable time for his lackeys to scope the River Queen out, a signal sent by some means Marcel didn't quite catch (and didn't really care), and then the arrival.
She made no effort to hide who or what she was. Her rich clothing and gold jewelry were enough, but the ubiquitous red scarf was a dead giveaway. Fair of skin, with raven-dark hair, she strode through the tavern as if she owned it. For a moment, Marcel believed that she did, so powerful was the aura she put out. She came in alone, as far as he could see, and she made straight for the table where Marcel sat. Leaning her broad sword against a chair, she made a slight bow.
"Domnule D'Anjou presupun?" she said in Varisian, the barest hint of a grin on her lips.
"Da. Vă rog. Aveți scaun." he replied, gesturing with his visible hand towards the chair opposite him.
Only the slightest arch of an eyebrow gave hint that she was surprised he knew their native tongue. Maybe she did not believe the reports, maybe she needed to see for herself, but she was clearly testing him. Regardless, she sat down in the offered chair - with her back to the room - without hesitation. Marcel wondered if maybe there were more than just two of her minions in the Queen, and E'Rinn had missed them.
"Nicoleta Babescu, Încântat de cunoștință, domnule D'Anjou." she continued, leaning back in her chair and putting her booted feet up on the table.
"And I you, Nicoleta." Marcel answered in Common. "Please. Marcel to my friends."
The Sczarni woman laughed. "Indeed. And I am Nicole to mine. We are friends, yes?"
"We are."
"And so! Friends buy friends a drink, no?"
"They do." Marcel looked up from his guest just in time to see E'Rinn hurrying over to the table. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn the tavern girl had thrown a dagger filled look at him as she came up.
"You summoned me, milord." the half elf said, maybe a touch brusquely.
Marcel ignored her. It was mostly business after all. "Magnimarian brandy, if you please, my dear. The special stock."
E'Rinn stiffened slightly at 'my dear'. "At once, milord" she replied with some sarcasm, then turned away.
If Nicole noticed anything about their exchange, she said nothing. Marcel had no doubts she had noticed, and was calculating how to use the information. It's what he would be doing, if it were him.
The brandy arrived, without so much as an acknowledgement by the half elf girl. Nicole scooped hers up, as did Marcel.
M 13 Rogue (Unchained) hp 124/124 AC 27/18/21 F/R/W 11/18/9 Per 18 Stealth 30 SMo 12 Trap 6 Danger 4
Marcel waited at his favorite table, one hand on his flagon, the other just below the table top out of sight. He liked this table for many reasons. One, it was of heavy construction. Oak or maple, stained a deep brown hue from years of use. It bore the marks of blade and spilled drink, and it was perfect for flipping on it's side for cover should things get violent. Second, the table was sitting on a slightly raised part of the tavern floor, placing anyone sitting there with a good view of the room. Third, and not least important, it was positioned in the corner, where one could put his back to the walls on either side.
It was was how Marcel was positioned now.
The River Queen would never be considered a 'good' inn. It's clientele were the rough and tumble side of society. Hunter's, trappers, caravan guards, street toughs - rogues of all shapes and sizes who came here to do business...or find some of their own. Not quite lawless - Kriger and Garick kept things in relative order - but no nation grew like Frieland without some sort of shady side. And the River Queen was where you found it.
"Another round milord?" A cheery voice broke Marcel from his thoughts. It was E'Rinn, the half elf tavern girl. Although 'girl' was a misnomer, E'Rinn was more than 50 years old. She didn't look a day over 19, and she played that for all it was worth. She had a keen eye and a sharp ear, and her red hair and green eyes had pried more than one secret from a besotted mark. Marcel had employed her almost on the spot when they met soon after he had gotten his position here in Frieland. It was...mostly business...but so far neither of them had wanted things to progress more than that.
She repeated her question, this time with a wry grin. "Another round, milord?" She knew he was uncomfortable with any of the trappings of his position.
"Really E'Rinn? Can't help yourself can you?"
She giggled and sat in his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. "There are two," she said, as if whispering indecent offers in his ear, "one at the bar with a red scarf around his left ankle, the other directly across from here with the gold earring."
Marcel smiled and and laid several gold coins on the table as if sealing the arrangement, and the half elf stood up. "Until later..." she purred demurely, yet just loud enough for others to hear.
He focused on the two persons E'Rinn had pointed out. Sczarni, both of them. He expected no less. His meeting today was a business trip, and the Sczarni never discussed business without a backup. They were typical of their kind now that he knew who they were, but without the girl's help, he wouldn't have picked them from the crowd.
'...well, the help is here, now we just need the boss...' Marcel mused. '...any time now...'
I've written more than a few 'going away' posts, but those have been for people just generally leaving the game after a long time in the group. This has been the hardest for me for multiple reasons. First and foremost, Fiendish Zen brought us such a great character in Aurora, and started the whole thing with Thordak. Second, your portrayal of Thordak's reaction to the affection of a 'flighty gnome' has been equally as good.
That's the main reason I asked what you all wanted to do with this PC death. Once Javell gave the ok (and I think he was thinking along the same lines as me) I went with the emotional final scene.
I had a tough time writing it. It's funny, because I never thought it would get to me like it did. It's supposed to be just a game after all. It's a tribute to you guys that we had such a reaction. Thanks again for staying with me all this time, it's been quite a ride.
And yes, only Wrath remains (for all of Book 5!!!). And Wrath is no joke, I will warn you.
It's a solemn return to the Vault of Greed bearing the body of Aurora. The angel's mortal form did not stay on this Plane, as she could not be permanently destroyed here. The night is somber as each of you remembers the best of your gnome sorceress.
The next day, Tomaru prepares the ritual of return for her. Laid in state on the rich furnishings of the Vault, she is at once the dangerous sorceress and the gnome child. Thordak for one, did not sleep, having maintained a vigil over her the entire night.
The ritual is one befitting Desna, and a sense of calm lowers itself on the room. You seem to shift into a dream-like state, awash in a cyan haze.
A soft blue glow begins to grow around Aurora's body, slowly building in depth and intensity. At the upper edges of the glow, the colors coalesce into the shapes of thousands of butterflies, each swirling about her. As the aura reaches it's peak intensity, the butterflies swoop down and lift Aurora up. Not her body, but her spirit, a spirit so bright that it nearly matches that of the glow around her.
The spirit turns slowly towards where you are, and opens its eyes!
"Friends," she smiles, "dearest Thordak. I am glad to see you all alive. I had the worst dreams...but no matter. What matters most is that you are all here." Aurora looks at you, seeming at peace. "While I am touched that you would do this for me, I am afraid I must decline your offer." She says with solemnity. "You see for me, this is the next great adventure. I would not have you see me through the Bleaching." she adds this last directly at Thordak. "I would always have you remember me as I was: terrible and grand!" She laughs.
"But I must go. The next adventure awaits." She drifts down to where the dwarf kneels in front of her body. She reaches out her hand, and brushes it against Thordak's cheek. "Remember me. I will wait for you."
And with that, the spell ends and the glow fades. Silence fills the room.
Thordak steps in, the rage of grief burning brightly in his heart, when he spots the lich standing near a sarcophagus to his left. At the same moment, Praxim notes the source of the evil, and shouts a warning.
"Death will be the least of your concerns, dwarf." the lich hisses. "I am Azaven, and I have ruled these halls for ten thousand years. I will make of you an eternal warrior, to serve me forever!" Azaven waves his hand, and springs the trap he had prepared for this moment!
Waves of dark energy fill the room, washing over the dwarf, threatening to steal his very soul...and yet...
Call it strength of will, call it Aurora's spirit protecting him, but the dark power barely phases Thordak. He wades in with his axe. The first blow strikes Azaven in the shoulder, cleaving him to the breast bone. Thordak yanks the axe free, spraying a gout of dark ichor across the ceiling of the room. The second strike takes the lich in the side, nearly cutting him in half.
The ancient wizard crumples to the ground, a look of utter surprise on his face. The evil green light in his eyes locks on the dwarf, then fades...
Male Human Barbarian 4 HP 76/76 AC 20 TAC 17 F/R/T 9/6/7 Per 6
Kith Jeova wrote:
I'm going to take a break from posting for a few days guys. The mosque attack in NZ has me feeling pretty distraught. So many want me and my family dead just for being us. It gets to me.
Kith, I can only assume you are of the Muslim faith? I am sorry the events in NZ have you feeling that way. The only thing I can say is stay strong. As a male, white, Catholic, American, ex-Army infantryman I can assure you that not everyone buys into the hate.
Where I work, we talk about these events all the time. I am lucky. I get quite a few perspectives on these things: Asif and Ahmed from Pakistan, Khalil from Palestine, Jason from Canada, Miguel from Mexico, Joon from Korea, and a handful of us Americans all share our opinions and thoughts. We may not agree all the time, but we respect each other's opinions.
Don't let the actions of the few get you down. We battle the same fears in reverse here: all Muslims want Americans dead, or so the story goes. Fear is a powerful motivator, and it can paralyze you.
It's all fun and games until someone kills a small woodland creature...
Despite it's silver hue, the turtle is just that, a turtle. One blow from Tomaru crushes the life from it...and any potential for a soup. Upon it's death, the shape of Ordikon returns, head caved in by the death blow.
Going to save some post time: his gear = staff of mithral might, cloak of resistance +1, pearl of power (2nd), rod of metal and mineral detection, 500 gp in diamond dust.
Sirens wail. Soon the police arrive. Tipped off by a member of PETA, Tomaru is arrested for animal cruelty. A distraught Lym goes on a wizardly rampage that catches Aurora and Rexil in the swathe of destruction. Praxim reaps his vengeance on the now-evil wizard and slays her. But the guilt of destroying a former friend ruins him, and he rejects his holy oaths and becomes a drunken sot in the gutters of Magnimar. Veronica, aghast at the sudden violence awash in this new group of hers, 'ports away...far away, to start anew.
Thordak, oblivious as always, turns at the far end of the hallway and asks: "Where'd everybody go?"
Vanedar turns and leaves, heading up the stairs into the oppressive heat. He raises his right hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare, and appraises the camels. He finds a larger one, a brute of a beast with a surly look and the face to match. The camel tries to bite Vanedar on the boot as he mounts, an effort that gets the animal a swift kick in the chops. It lurches to it's feet, swaying back and forth with the large man astride it. Satisfied for the moment that the two of them have worked out their differences, Vanedar growls:
Male Human Barbarian 4 HP 76/76 AC 20 TAC 17 F/R/T 9/6/7 Per 6
Going to keep with the RP stuff until I can update the grist of the character. On a side note, all I found in the book regarding multiple consumables is that when you craft something like a potion, you create a batch of four. It wouldn't be stretch to say that you bought them that way.
Vanedar glares at the one called Camadus as he retreats away back to his door-watching. For no real reason other than he was hot, and he never liked being hot.
But the room below was cool, and he quite liked the look of the Lady Vord. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he could negotiate another 'figure' of hers into the job fee, but he waved that away as quick as it came. 'Never mix the paymaster with the pay.' his father always said.
Male Human Barbarian 4 HP 76/76 AC 20 TAC 17 F/R/T 9/6/7 Per 6
Vanedar stands behind his smaller companions, his 6'4" frame dwarfing the two speaking to the man. He glares down at him, sweat beading on his brow. His hair is tied back in a long, thick blond braid to keep it off of his neck. His beard is likewise braided, held by a copper ring at the end.
Vanedar knows better than to speak in this situation, but his hands flex with annoyance at this weakling door-watcher.
M 13 Rogue (Unchained) hp 124/124 AC 27/18/21 F/R/W 11/18/9 Per 18 Stealth 30 SMo 12 Trap 6 Danger 4
Welcome to the Marcel Show! If I do nothing else this campaign, I'll have earned my money in two rooms and two doors.
"Someone really doesn't want people in here." Marcel says to no one in particular. He looks over at Malaswyn. "Sorry. Just a little edgy around this place. I'm getting to the point I'm not sure that some of you might not be hidden traps."
He takes a look at the doors, confirming their nature.
DD:1d20 + 26 ⇒ (7) + 26 = 33
M 13 Rogue (Unchained) hp 124/124 AC 27/18/21 F/R/W 11/18/9 Per 18 Stealth 30 SMo 12 Trap 6 Danger 4
I'm down 39 hp, if we have someone who deals with that sort of thing ;)
Would the group like Marcel to lead off, doing the trap and door thing? GM OM, barring disapproval from the group, Marecl will take the lead and scout, especially at doors. My stats are in my header: Stealth, Perception, Trap-finding bonus, Danger Sense Bonus.
Marcel squats on his heels, holding up a hand to stop the others from moving just yet. He places the aldori blade on the floor, bringing both hands up to his ears. Rubbing vigorously, Marcel tries to wipe away the overwhelming ringing that deafens him, but all he comes away with is blood on his fingers.
He pulls down his balaclava, taking a quick breath. "I...I can't hear..." he says quickly and a little too loudly. "The blasted witch wrecked my ears!"
SOP for doors: observe both the 5' space right in front and the door itself for a trap (relying on Trap Sense here for anything else), check to see if it's locked, listen carefully -although Kriger has a better Perception, so maybe he should listen one it's clear?
Gavriil grits his teeth under the onslaught of the troll’s attacks. He clutches the wounds with his off hand and stabs back at the beast in anger shouting in giant at it, ”Itza Ralph Lauren, Oogha!!!”
Creeping along the snow-covered path in the half light of dusk, you make it past the arrow slits of the tower. Through them you can hear two guttural voices in some type of argument. They seem to be preoccupied with each other. Gavriil reaches the door, stops to crack it and peer in, when Edric slips on a patch of ice and stumbles into him. The door to flies open with a 'BANG!'
The trolls whirl to face you, one of them shouting "Er! You! What are yer doin' there?" And they leap to their feet to attack!
ROUND ONE: Init order is: Gav and Talia; trolls; Sentir, Edric, Nara. The map is up, as usual you can move your tokens on it. Gav and Talia, you are up!
This is taking too long. I've never had to wait this long.
The brightly lit docks of Absalom Station are abuzz with activity as travelers bustle by, preparing to board or disembarking from starships bound to or from any of dozens of worlds. Brash and swaggering starpilots, scurrying ysoki mechanics, and expectant colonists mingle with enigmatic
kasatha mystics, hard-faced asteroid miners, imposing vesk mercenaries, and more, creating a microcosm of the abundance and variety of life in the Pact Worlds.
New arrivals meet friends, loved ones, or business contacts, and are whisked away into the humming activity of daily life on the vast space station. Beyond them, ground crews tend to the docked ships, and dockworkers in mechanized cargo lifters load and unload freight and baggage. A sharp tang of ozone hangs in the air—a byproduct of electrical discharges from the docked ships—but underneath, the station’s atmosphere has a slightly used aroma. The docking bay’s deck plates thrum beneath your feet, though whether it’s from the passage of innumerable feet or the vibrations of the station’s power conduits and air recycling systems is impossible to say.
Perception DC5:
You see a dwarf dressed in the coveralls of the Starfinders standing in the middle of the bay, looking in your direction. He matches the description of Duravor Kreel.
Perception DC15:
You see a dwarf dressed in the coveralls of the Starfinders standing in the middle of the bay, looking in your direction. He matches the description of Duravor Kreel. Two groups of people, each group wearing colors that match the rest of goup are taking up defensive positions at opposite ends of the bay.
The shuttle Okimoros works it's way through the mulititude of ships and shuttles coming and going from the station's docking arms. The massive volume of starcraft moving about the station's environs is daunting. Massive freighters kilometers long intermingle with small shuttle craft like the Okimoros in a giant mixing bowl around Absalom.
Strapped in to the cargo area in the temporary fold-down seats in the bay, you share the seats with three others. Strangers for sure, but all headed to the station. Reason enough to engage in some friendly chat.
You are together in the shuttle. This is the time to introduce yourselves to each other. You all have two things in common: you are here to find work with the Starfinders, and you are all supposed to meet with one Duravor Kreel of the Society.
Absalom Station is the metaphorical center of the Pact Worlds—the hub around which all things revolve. It was here that the Pact Worlds as a formal entity were created, via the eponymous Absalom Pact, and it remains the system’s heart governmentally, culturally, and economically. All sentient species, from the familiar to the most alien, are welcome in its streets, with the mysterious artifact at its heart acting as a singularly powerful hyperspace beacon, Absalom Station finds its significance only growing as the races of the Pact Worlds spread out across the galaxy.
Origin and History:
Due to the Gap, no one knows who built Absalom Station or why—whether it was created as a run-of-the-mill space platform, a lifeboat during some frantic exodus from doomed Golarion, or something else entirely. Its thoroughly mechanical nature and walls of ceramic, metal, and plastic lead most scholars to assume it was built by ordinary mortals, while its population of historically Golarion based species, as well as its position in the precise orbit vacated by Golarion, suggests that Golarion natives were responsible for the vast undertaking. What’s more, records show that when the Gap ended and station residents found themselves unsure about their pasts, the station seemed lived in and worn, implying that they’d already been there for quite some time. Even today, the mysteries surrounding the station’s origin and its ties to Golarion’s disappearance make it a natural draw for Gap researchers, who constantly strive to infer bits of objective truth from the shifting morass of the station’s past.
After the Gap, Absalom Station’s inhabitants found themselves even more adrift than most cultures, with no home world and no trustworthy records of their social ties and governance. Anarchy reigned; gangs based on racial or religious identities looted and fought in the streets, and systems broke down as people abandoned their posts. Only when a runaway malfunction nearly resulted in the venting of the entire station’s atmosphere did people recognize their precarious position and begin to pull together, with the heads of the various gangs forming the first Syndicsguild and electing the first Prime Executive, Loqua Tem.
With the advent of Drift travel, the residents of Absalom Station were surprised to find it transformed from a backwater raft of “homeless” races—most notably humanity—to the most prosperous and powerful port in the Pact Worlds. Early post-Gap engineers attempting to understand the station’s workings had known for several years that the station’s power core was no mere reactor but rather a powerful magical artifact called the Starstone, believed to be the same object that had lain at the heart of the station’s namesake city on Golarion and through whose magic Iomedae and other deities had risen to godhood. Locked away behind unbreachable defenses, it had always provided enough free energy to power the entire station, yet it came to reveal a new function: no matter where in the galaxy a ship started from, the Starstone made Drift travel to the space around Absalom Station as quick and safe as hopping between planets in a single system. Now, no matter how far explorers may roam, Absalom Station is always right next door.
The next decades were marked by harsh growing pains as Absalom Station struggled to retain its independence. Various other governments attempted to claim the station, most notably the Bone Sages of Eox, who launched the Magefire Assault in 7 ag only to be rebuffed by the station’s formidable defensive batteries. Since then, having dedicated itself to neutrality and equitable trade, Absalom Station became the natural headquarters for newly formed interplanetary organizations and eventually the seat of government for the Pact Worlds, forever giving all other planets in the system a stake in defending its independence.
I just want to say that I love how you add the holidays, OGGM. It adds a nice touch that really breathes life into the world, even if they usually are just asides. Also, thanks again for picking up this campaign in the first place, you've made this one a hell of a ride.
You are most welcome, although to be fair it's been just as much fun for me, especially when the game inspires posts like that last one.
21 Kuthona 4708 The Ritual of Stardust (Desna)
The Ritual of Stardust is one of the few formal religious holidays in honor of the goddess Desna. It is held on both the summer and winter solstices. Followers of the Song of Spheres gather at dusk and light enormous bonfires and hold feasts, watching the sparks and embers float out into the darkening sky. After it is fully dark, the celebrants chant and sing songs as they watch the fires burn low. When only embers remain, sand mixed with ground star gems (either star rubies, star sapphires or rose quartz) is thrown on them or into the air downwind. At this point it is common to make proclamations of love and friendship and of promised journeys to come. The twinkling of the sand is thought to mirror the night sky and demonstrate Desna's witnessing these pronouncements.
Crystalhue (Shelyn)
During the day, in towns where the holiday of Crystalhue is celebrated, locals hang crystal prisms and glass baubles throughout town in order to spread light and scatter rainbows in the streets. As townsfolk prepare for the evening festivities, artisans and musicians ply their trades, hoping for a coin or two while they sell their crafts and play tunes for the people while they browse. Throughout the day, the locals exchange small gifts—typically handmade—as tokens of appreciation or as peace offerings to those they feel they wronged during the year.
To reflect artistic depictions of their patron goddess, women dye colored streaks in their hair. Young girls commonly have half a dozen different colored locks, while older married women usually only have one or two. Men wear colorful patchwork coats they call melaros that they keep their whole lives, adding new patches or scraps of scavenged cloth every year.
As night falls, the community gathers every available lantern and candle, bringing them out onto porches or lining the streets with their communal light. The town square hosts a large feast around a bonfire complete with roasted meats, stewed vegetables, roasted root vegetables, and winter squashes—all seasoned with plenty of fragrant spices. Around these bonfires, the clergy of Shelyn perform marriage ceremonies, where the whole community gathers to witness and affirm the bonds of love. During the ceremonies, teenagers pursue their budding romances, giving trinkets and other symbols of their affection to the ones who caught their eye throughout the year.
One of the stranger traditions among the faithful of Shelyn is the Zonzon doll. A child chosen to be the "sibling" passes this strange little doll, made from scraps of leather and cloth and sewn with red thread, among neighbors. The townsfolk give it symbolic gifts and whisper apologies to those they’ve wronged during the year or share with the doll happy memories in order to represent Shelyn's kindness and mercy to her now-lost brother Zon-Kuthon. The "sibling" child brings the doll to everyone in town during the festival, making sure everyone has had the chance to pay their dues and make peace. As the celebration winds down, the doll is cast into the wilderness or set afloat to drift down a river in the hope that it will find its way to the Midnight Lord and relate his sister's kindness, mercy, and goodwill in the face of the dark place he now resides.
All of Concord is lit by fires, candles and lanterns as the combined festivals reach into the night. Last year was the first celebration of the Stardust Ritual, and this year sees the addition of Crystalhue, brought south with settlers from Restov. As the night sky fills with 'stardust', and the zonzon doll begins its slow trip out into Tidewater Lake, the voices of the people of Fairhaven join in songs of hope and love. For a moment, all thoughts of worry and toil are forgotten, and all is right with the world.
will save:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22 will save:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
If the lights are affected by the spell, they don't show it. Unfortunately for them, however, it does negate their natural invisibility. A hard lesson they learn as they stop moving to try and disappear!
ROUND TWO cont'd, you guys are up. WoWs are AC/touch 26/26.
So I starting building Kara yesterday on the site. Was halfway through when I thought "I'd better save what I have". Hit 'Save Changes' and got a 'you went back too far' error. everything lost. I rage quit.
First of all, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!
So I log in to find the message I sent from my iPhone at the airport - you know, the one that said I will be out all week - didn't go through. But I am here, so let me get things back on track today.
@ Edric: that's fine. I assume you have to pick one and stay with it?
There are indeed Black Rattlecap mushrooms here in this noxious bog, and after an hour of slogging through the nasty pit to gather them, you have two dozen for the Swamp Witch.
Hex explored. Also counts as a resource hex should you claim it later. What next?
I screwed up the dragon's info. It was 100' away and 30' high not 30' speed.
GM Screen:
hp 49/283; displacement, shield, resist energy 20 2/3 rounds until breathe
Arkhryst stretches his wings to their full extent and glides in at a terrible speed, straight for the flying dwarf. Suddenly a stone wall springs up from the ground in the dragon's path!
Fly check:1d20 + 16 - 4 - 8 ⇒ (6) + 16 - 4 - 8 = 10
The dragon tucks its long neck in a reflexive flinch as it crashes into the wall at full speed!
damage at speed 200':20d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 3, 1, 1, 3, 4, 3, 4, 5, 2, 4, 6, 1, 6, 1, 3, 5, 2, 3) = 63
The wall bursts into a deadly shower of stone shards as the dragon smashes through it.
damage to any dwarfs who may happen to be flying right about there:5d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 5, 1, 1) = 14
collision!:1d20 + 16 - 4 - 8 ⇒ (8) + 16 - 4 - 8 = 12
Rolling and tumbling through the frigid air, the dragon passes by Thordak on its way to crashing into the ground. The dwarf lashes out - prepared as he was - and strikes Arkhryst on his side as he goes by.
fall damage 30' up:3d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 6) = 18
The white dragon hits the permafrost in a spray of snow and dirt, digging a great furrow in the ground. He comes to a rest up against one of the great stone heads, the force of the hit causing the ancient statue to tilt to the right at a severe angle.
Lym's missiles of force wash harmlessly off of the dragon's Shield spell. I think Aurora already tried this.
Another rules dilemma...there was no readied action for the elemental to catch anyone dropped by the dragon. The falling (and the damage) all occurs on the dragon's turn. I'm willing to give it a chance if Real Old Gusty can make a Ref save for each player. DC 25 for Thordak, as the first command given was 'save the dwarf'; and a DC 30 for Tomaru. It's +5 to his DC because we are trying to catch not one, but two players without the readied action.
The air blasting through Thordak's ears grows louder than a hurricane as the huge elemental rushes down and grabs him by the ankle. The dwarf is is whipped about as Gusty continues his (its?) suicide dive straight down at the lake. At the very last second, Tomaru is violently halted in his fall, only inches above the freezing waters of Lake Stormunder.
If it weren't for the deadly nature of the situation, the sight of a 36' pillar of air hovering over the middle of a frozen lake holding a cleric of Desna by one arm and a dwarf dangling upside down by an ankle would be hilarious. As it is, the dragon roars in frustration and begins it's charge...
ROUND FOUR: Aurora, Thordak, Tomaru. Sometimes, the dice just make the story better, ya know?
Thordak and Aurora. Praxim and Lym go after the dragon. Seeing as though Tomaru's action has ddirect bearing on Thordak's move, I will jump in here.
Tomaru wrote:
Tomaru will try to Greater Teleport to Thordak, then Dimensional Step down toward the lake with him 65'. Hopefully, we'll fall the rest of the way into the lake.
Much points for awesomeness. However...
You've Only Seen this Location Once:1d100 ⇒ 98Mishap! damage:1d10 ⇒ 8 Mishap Location:1d100 ⇒ 80
Thank you dice gods...
Tomaru appears in a puff of butterflies squarely between the great horns on top of Arkhyst's head. It's difficult to tell who is more surprised, the dragon or the cleric of Desna...
Ok, Tomaru, you still have your Move Action to do something. In case you are wondering, it's 15' from where you are on the dragon's head to inside the jaws...
