Zayne Iwatani's page

S+#@ it's fast, is the only thought that goes through her head as the bear turns blindingly fast in her direction. She can't get out of the way of the first hit but it pushes her away enough to avoid the second. Using that momentum, she lunges further back...and practically glides across the ground. The world slows down like everything is swimming through water. All except her and...Dom? She glances around and notices the others are also slowed. All except Dom and his strange tree wings. They are oddly comforting. In this slowed time frame she as able to make out there faces too.

Lyra is angry. Shouting at something in the sky. The gods perhaps? Rosasaria looks tense. Like she wants to jump in but can't. Mehaila looks sexy. Not the time damnit. Delan looks worried. He just came back and she just brushed him off. All because of pride. And Dom. Dom looks confident. Not in himself, but in her. He's confident she can handle this. He never really doubted her. None of them did.

She only doubted herself. When did that happen? Sure she was surrounded by amazing people constantly doing amazing things. Dom in combat raining arrows, mighty blows and holy light. Lyra with her magic and enormous dreams. Rosa with her alchemy and great explosions. Mehaila and her subtlety and silver tongue. But when did that ever matter? She wasn't ever going to be a great mage, or scholar, or diplomat, or even a fighter. She had pride in being a hunter but that was never the goal. She only ever wanted to be a great smith.

But right now her ego and stupidity might just ruin that. Fighting a bear alone even with all this extra power was dumb. They were apex predators for a reason. Fast on land. Powerful enough to squash you in a single swipe. Big enough to shrug off most attacks. You never face one up close if you don't have to. And here she was, doing just that. In fact, the world was beginning to speed up and the bear was charging. It reacted to her retreating with uncanny speed. She needed more room, fast.

Wings of fire erupt from her back for a brief moment and flap with tremendous strength. They launch her to the side and out of the way as it comes charging by. Three arrows are in her hand in the blink of an eye and fired in another blink. Just as the bear turns, two take it in the eyes, veering at the last minute as their enchantments pull them towards vital areas. The last lad no enchantment and flies by its head. Enraged, the bear charges at her even faster. There is no time to dodge. She draws and knocks without thinking and takes aim. Years of practice and hunting let's the arrow flow from quiver to string to cheek in one smooth motion. Unblinking, she watches the bear charge.Watches it's gait. Waiting for the moment.

There.

Just as all four legs leave the ground. Just as it's fully extended in the air, unable to dodge, and mouth open. She takes the shot. Throughout her life, there has been moments were Moira instinctively knew a shot was going to make it. Like some sixth sense was of the success before it ever made contact. These have always been few and far between when practicing. And even rarer in hunting. This shot sends that same shiver through her mind. She knows it's going to be a kill shot. It strikes the roof of the bear's mouth and knocks its head back. Then, like a puppet with it's strings cut, it falls...right on top of her.

To the others it may seem like the bear succeeded and pounced on their poor, dim hunter. Thankfully it's only crushing her legs. Those can heal. She gives it a few test pushes but she can't get any leverage. Crap. She's gonna need help to get this off. Good thing she has friends. Hopefully they weren't feeling too spiteful. "Little help here?"

Wisp. I did a little meta research though and now I regret it.

Round 4

With adrenaline-fueled willpower, Cassandra ignores the pain in her leg and recovers here fallen bow. In the time it took her to finally drop the stupid lizard the chief had already fallen. That was good. That left one Cayman and...a flying skull? Is that what a Will-o-Wisp looks like? Didn't matter. That thing was tormenting the child just as much as the lizard folk here. She takes aim.

Attack+PBS: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 9 + 1 = 23
Damage+PBS+1d6 fire: 1d8 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 4 + (2) = 11

Round 3

Cassandra screams in pain as several hundred pounds of scaled fury grabs her leg, and nearly drags her down. Pain turns to anger as she tosses away the bow and returns the assault on her person with a clawed assault.

Claws attack 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Claws damage 1: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Claws attack 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
Claws damage 1: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Round 2

Attack+PBS: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 9 + 1 = 27
Damage+PBS+1d6 fire: 1d8 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + 4 + (5) = 11

Cassandra retreats again as the caymen rushes forward, leaping over it's thrashing tail. She dodges to the side, knowing it wasn't good at turning, to give her time for another shot.

Round 1

Attack+PBS: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 9 + 1 = 21
Damage+PBS+1d6 fire: 1d8 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 4 + (3) = 8

Cassandra hears a splashing sound mixed with a very predatory hiss from behind and instinctively jumps forward. She turns and draws an arrow in the same motion. She zero's in on the low-lying enemy and sends a flaming arrow towards it's back.

Horizon Wind Lancet+PBS: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 9 + 1 = 20
Damage+PBS+1d6 fire: 1d8 + 4 + 1d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (7) + 4 + (5) + (3) = 19

Cassandra's arrow drew a burning line through the air as it streaked for it's target.

Left out of the conversation, all Cassandra had to go on was body language and tone. Both had taken to aggressive stances and loud voices. Diplomacy was failing and a life was on the line. Best to preempt the coming conflict then. Cassandra raises her bow and takes aim, letting instinct guide her.

Probably. Hoping for a surprise shot myself.

intimidate: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Make an example? Oh no. Cassandra's face went white as a sheet as her mind raced to the worst possible conclusion to be taken from that comment. She lost track of the conversation as image after horrible image flitted through her mind. Eventually she heard the lizardman speak again, loud and angry. As quickly as the color had drained from her face, rage took it's place. A primal, maternal, protective instinct roared for blood. The eyes she turned to the lizardman were that of a predator. Worse, it was that of a mother predator needing to protect their offspring. Whatever they were thinking of doing to Tig, to a child, they had to stop him.

"Ilystria," Cassandra says. She didn't say it loud but there was an unmistakable growl underlying the word. "You tell that lizard brain if he or anyone of his tribe harms that child I will personally hunt them down one by one until they all join their ancestors. If they think they can scare us by torturing a child they are dead wrong in the most literal way possible. Every person in this kingdom will take up arms and burn this entire swamp to cinders. And I am not exaggerating in the least." Her bow was still out and pointing down but now the tip gleamed with fire. Already she was imagining the actions, the muscle movements, the feel of the resistance, to put the sharpened bit of steel right through the lizard's eye.

"Okay. Now what are they saying?" Cassandra asks Vallen.

What is she saying? What's happening? Cassandra fretted as Ilystria continued to talk. "Ilystria," she hissed under her breath. "What is he saying? What are you saying?" She wasn't sure which was more important at this point. "We need to be in the loop here."

"I don't know," is her terse answer to Vallen. Which was the truth. She didn't know anything about them. Only a vague memory about them being some kind of floating balls of light and not to go near them. It was the least of her worries at the moment.

Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 Don't know nothing bout no willowy wispys.

"What did he say?" Cassandra says turning from the angry lizard head to Ilystria. "What did he say exactly?" she clarifies.

"What? I...wait." Cassandra fumbles over her words as she is pushed into position and forced to learn an awkward dance.

Dance: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7

She is too confused by what is going on to truly feel embarrassed by how bad she is doing. Then again, considering Vallen's performance her's looks mildly competent. All he needed to do was talk gibberish. Why am dancing now?

When the lizardfolk disappear from the palisade she stops. No point continuing if the gallery is empty. Finally, Ilystria returns and she gives a sigh of relief. It is short lived as the fae woman announces that Tig is not hear. "If he's not hear then who is crying?" Tig might not specifically be captured but some child apparently is. They couldn't leave him like that.

Ilystria responds.

Cassandra facepalms.

"You could speak their language this whole time!?" she asks loudly in frustration, throwing her arms in the air. "Why didn't you just ask!? Why did you disappear!?"

OMG she's the perfect fae.

"Vallen," Cassandra whispered. "Just keep talking. Doesn't matter what it is if they don't understand. Buy Ilystria time."

Cassandra took a few steps behind Vallen and shifted. She didn't want to appear threatening if diplomacy was an option. She also didn't want to be unprepared if they decided not to talk.

"Oh, I hope that's not our missing person," Cassandra says worriedly. Unfortunately, Tig's tracks came this way and it seemed like too much of a coincidence. Cassandra strings her bow as they wait just outside the palisade for whatever Illystria decided to do.

"Can you...check for that?" Cassandra asks, nervously. That would be terrible news to bring back. It would be a since of closure but no mother wants to bury their son. Aside from checking for a body, their only other clue was tracks headed south-west. "If that still turns up negative the only thing we have to go on are these tracks. Up to you if you want to use the spell."

Survival: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28

Edited

Oh, didn't realize the sight was back.

"Let's check the shore around the lake. If we find nothing we can follow the river. But until we find a reason I don't think we should head to the island." She nods at the tower but quickly turns away to walk along the lake shore looking for signs of a camp.

Survival: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

Well that was helpful. Cassandra thought as they walked away from the crazy old hermit. Initially when she slammed the door open, Cassandra jumped and reached for her bow. She then recoiled at the sight of the old woman. Wispy white hair. Gaunt face. Missing teeth. Pointed ears? Was she an elf? Elves didn't look like that when they got old. Half-elf maybe? Who knew? She didn't want them around and Cassandra was all too happy to oblige.

They traveled further away and finally found the shore of Candlemere Lake and the tower itself. "Finding someone lost in the forest is almost more luck than skill. Then again. Will o' Wisps are involved. Maybe some fae magic is at work. Maybe they floated him over. Or maybe you're right and he didn't make it this far. Any tracks he'd have left would be long gone by now."

The first word that pops into Cassandra's mind upon seeing the little cottage was Quaint. A little run down, maybe, but not offensive. It would be a nice place to get away for a few days. In fact, upon seeing the little hovel, Cassandra vowed to build one herself to get away from the city every now and then. She'd never let it get to such a state of disrepair though. Following along Vallen's intended path she spies the bell, then the gate, then the fence and finally...

"Vallen wait. We should probably approach cautiously." She pointed what had her on edge. The little wood and bone fetishes lining the fence. She had no idea what a witch actually smelled like but she smelled a witch.

Level 5

HP: +7

Hunter’s bond: Animal companion

Spells!

5th level Feat: Boon Companion

8 skill points:

+s Acrobatics
+1 Escape artist
+1 Handle Animal
+1 Knw: Nature
+1 Perception
+1 Stealth
+1 Survival

Background Skills
+1 Craft (Bower)
+1 Knw: Geography

+1 BAB
+1 Fort
+1 Ref

1st:
+ Gravity Bow

Nevemind my post about the Fairy Nest. That is much further north than the tatzylwyrms.

Cassandra regretted not going back to the old fort and wrapped tings up there. Then at least it would feel like they made progress. The owlbear might not be real but missing hunters was a problem. Anything a skilled tracker couldn't get away from was a danger.

At Jubilost's message, Cassandra goes thoughtful trying to remember what was up that way. "Isn't that Tig and Perl's home is? I hope he doesn't bother them. I'd hate to see what happens when their pranks get mean."

But a missing kid was an even more pressing matter. "I agree," she says to Jenya. "We should see to that as soon as possible."

Back in action.

What Tig said sparked recognition. The Grimstalker and Quickling were two very dangerous fey from what she read. And they were very lucky not to have faced all three of them. "The plants make sense now. Grimstalkers can control them. We might be able to deal with the Quickling if someone can hast a spell to slow it. It doesn't like that." She pauses. "I think we were very lucky to get out of there. We should prepare some stuff to counteract them if we go back. I would prefer to at least handle something before we go home, like the owlbear."

I am fine leaving them for another month. Less likely to be on guard. But also agree with Jenya. Would like a shiny new level before going home. Exploration or Owlbear.

After a hard ride, long swim, furious hacking, and a roller-coaster of emotional drama Moira was suitably groggy and slow in the morning. Enough so she slept all through the noise and past her usual wake up time. Back sore and mind hazy she exits her tent to wash up at the pool and grab a bite for breakfast. Slightly more awake now, she notices Lyra chopping a log...and loading a sled next to her horse. She walks over, intent to find out what is happening.

When Lyra saw Moira she would give the fighter a sunny, sweaty smile. “Good morning! I'm so glad that you decided to get us some firewood! You can WALK next to your horse today!” she said in a sing-song voice while pointing at the work she had already done. “Just give me an hour and this will be all ready to load onto the sled!”

Moira bit down on the first comment that popped into her head. Something about replacing the stick up Lyra's butt with the one she was chopping. More progress. Huzzah. But that didn't stop her from looming over the shorter woman with a glare that could quell a bear. A look that left no doubt as to who was the predator and who was the prey. For a few minutes she starred. And Lyra starred right back. Moira looked for some kind of weakness, a crack in her resolve.

There was none.

Oh she was scared alright. Eyes slightly dilated, slightly shorter breaths, hands griped tight on the axe so as not to give away shaking. She saw herself in those pretty amethyst eyes and recoiled internally at her own reflection. Lyra was willing to face her wrath to call her out on being a b@!$+. And she was right. Her father would never approve of taking her anger out on a tree and leaving it. That was disrespectful to Erastil and a waste.

Huh. This is new.

With that thought her anger faded almost instantly. She stood up straight and cocked her head at Lyra, no longer glaring. She nodded and said, "Don't bother." She walked over to the long log that was left and hoisted it up on her shoulder with a small grunt of effort. "Sled will be good for the legs. This will be good for the back. The awkward, shifting weight will mean I have work extra hard to keep it balanced while walking."

She puts the log down next to the sled and stares at her horse. "You didn't even try to stand up for me did you? Just going along with the druid and her scary cat? Big baby," she says, tone happy. She wasn't actually mad at him. Talking to him was probably going to be a thing now. Oh well.

As Meha comes over to quietly help Moira watches her, confused. The Calistrian cleric doesn't say anything or even look at her but continues to help quietly. Moira takes extra care not to scare her off and says nothing so as to not accidentally set off another argument. Should she apologize? Or would that be worse? Eventually the work is down and the elf scurries away. She couldn't leave it at that. "Hey," she calls out. "This is how you handle back problems," she says, pointing at the log. "Build a stronger back."

When they are ready to leave, Moira hoists the log and puts the sled's rope around her waist. She smiles despite the load. Was it weird to think Lyra looked pretty when she was angry? Meh. Purple sure is a pretty color.

As soon as Moira closed her eyes she opened them again somewhere else. She was standing in the forest again with everything frozen around her and a light pouring through the trees. For some reason none of this seemed strange. In a daze she walked forward towards the light. As she expected, the light came from the bolt of lightning earlier that day but Lyra was not standing beneath it. Not that there was enough space. The bolt was resting on the ground, branching upward like a tree. Beautiful.

Moira felt more than heard a presence beside her. She turned to see a large man sitting on a log that wasn't there before. He was hunched over hands resting on a gnarled branch he most likely used as a walking stick. He was covered more than dressed in dirty looking hides, the hair slicked down in some parts and sticking up in others. He had a wild mane of hair and large bushy beard, both streaked with silver. And antlers. A large and majestic set of antlers with an impossibly large number of points. Even without them she know instinctively who this was.

Erastil, Old Deadeye, Stag God, Estig the Hunter and a thousand names besides.

She did not bow or kneel before him. "What's going on?" she asked arms folded. Erastil rolled his eyes.

"Your going to be a fun one I can tell. That is for you silly girl," he says pointing his walking stick at the tree of light. She turns back towards it, confused.

"It's pretty but what it is?"

"Try a different angle."

Frowning at the god, Moira walks around the tree a bit and finally sees an image in the branches. The image she had seen earlier but not recognized. A stag. And it's antlers matched that of the man on the log. She walks a bit further around and sees something else. It wasn't an image though. It was words, and gestures and the flow of power.

A spell.

A spell to imbue an item with light. She could cast the same spell Rosa did on her arrow now.

"I don't want it," she blurted out. Something hard smacked her in the back of the head. She growled in annoyance and looked at the old man but he didn't appear to have moved. How?

"To bad. It's a gift. Can't take it back."

"Why?" she said, not giving in. Another hit to the back of the head. She was even looking at him but never saw him move. She looked around but there was no one else here.

"Ain't anyone ever told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?" The old man squinted at her, annoyed. She folded her arms and returned his stare. After a long while he sighed and shook his head.

"Stubborn. You've been praying to me for a long time. Hunted well. Performed a ritual to my name," he said nodding at her. He looks up and says angrily, "Even if that harlot took the credit." He looked back at her and shrugged. "You sought strength. What kind of god would I be not to provide to such a devout follower?"

"I didn't pray to you," she said, confused and a little defensive. "At least not a lot-"

"Didn't you?" he interrupts. "I am the god of the hunt. But what do you do when hunting. You are pursuing something. Reading the signs. Gaining experience. Knowledge. All to catch sight of your prey, your goal." He pauses, watching her intently. When he sees she hasn't gotten it, he continues slowly like a teacher trying to get a student to reach the answer. "With every swing of your hammer, you get closer to the goal." Recognition dawns. "It's been a beautiful hunt to watch." He smiles like a proud old grandpa.

"That's..." Moira stops and looks down, thoughtful. "Okay. But I haven't been seeking power. And this is the easy way to...end the hunt," she says gesturing at the tree.

"Haven't you though?" He smiles at her annoyed look. "You wish you were stronger because you feel you haven't been pulling your weight. Yet you're too stubborn to ask for help. Well here you go. You wouldn't pass up accidentally walking into a 10 point buck when out hunting. Might seem too easy or unfair but also no better than to let an opportunity to slip by. You might be a blacksmith at heart but you're a hunter by birth and calling. You don't have to use it to make the hunt easier. Keep the handicap. I don't care. Still fun to watch."

Moira bristles a little but says nothing. She looks at the tree of light again in thoughtful consideration. Eventually, after a few long minutes she sighs. "Fine. What do I need to do now?"

"Nothing. It's already done," the old god said, smiling. He stands and Moira's eyes go wide. He was enormous and powerfully muscled. More so than the hunched figure suggested. A tiger laying wait to pounce. "Have Courage girl. It's going to be a wild ride. I can feel it. And good hunting."

--------------------

The dream disappeared and Moira awoke just as light was coming back. She tried to keep hold of the dream but it faded quickly. All that remained was the tree. And something else. A beam of light was shooting from the a spot a few inches from the tree. She turned her head and the beam of light moved around, always pointing the same way. Towards...

A massive head peered at from around the rock face. Her horse stared right at her. And she could...feel something from him. Contentment, a little hunger, a little curiosity, a little fear. The longer she stared at it the more fear increased. "Courage?" asked hesitantly. Now she felt recognition and happiness from it.

"Oh s+$&."

More later on current events. Hungry.

K:Nature vs quickling: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
K:Nature vs gimstalker: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24 Also have dungeoneering +5

Cassandra mostly stayed out of the fairy politics mostly because she figured it was like normal politics but more lefter. Fairies were weird so normal adjectives would not do. Instead she focused on their home here in the woods. It was always fascinating to see, all the colors and little homes. She turns back towards the fae creatures when Ilystria reprimands them for withholding information apparently. "So can they help us? At least to scout the place?"

Cassandra look at the new tracks with trepidation. She followed each to the other towers and looked up at each structure with concern, wondering what the dancing lady brought back from each. She walks back to the others, keeping the central tower in view and watching it's every crevice for red, beady eyes or a clawed hand slinking away. "Too many fey are much better at hiding than I am at spotting them. The two we already know can go invisible. And even if you can protect us from her dance we don't know what else she can do and there are at least 2 others in there. We should go ask Tig and Perlavish if they know what lives here. Or get there help in scouting the tower. I'd rather just bring the tower down then try and fight our way through."

Two new unknowns is terrible odds when the one almost killed us. Let's leave it or go find Tig-titter-tut and Perlavish for aid. Or go grab a few more NPC's.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Moira returned Vetra's pointed look, arms still crossed. "So it's fine if your kind threatens us hmm? You may not have fat legs and breasts but the rest of us do." Technically. Dom and Delan didn't in the way Mehaila meant bt they still had breasts, so to speak. Sure the kobolds obviously didn't know what they were but they meant it as a threat. "I am not about to roll over for a bunch of scaly squirrels no matter how you much appreciate it."

Moira regretted letting the insult slip out as soon as she said it but she wasn't about to take it back. She'd met too many of the vicious little beasts to be lenient on them. Vetra had also said nothing in their defense, instead reprimanding Moira for sticking up for them, and that stung a little. If Vetra was truly tested, whose side would she take? She turns and walks away a few paces to cool off.

She turns an incredulous look on the others as they appear to be in agreement on helping the kobolds. Why should they put their lives on the line for them? It was probably a lie so the kobolds will have an ambush ready when they come back. "Why bother? The bandits are at a fortress near the lake. How hard could tat be to find?"

Survival where did they come from Cotton-Eyed Joe: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Cassandra squats down to inspect the tracks as well, noting that they were nothing like the feet of the dancing lady. "Something else is here. Wonder how we missed it?" she asks of no one in particular. She was sad to see the rope gone but Vallen didn't back away from the trap nervously so maybe they could just go in the font from now on.

That seems high enough to disarm the trap. Can we just use the gate from now on?

Cassandra looks at the dwarf quizzically. "You can do that?" Commanding a rope to do as you will? There really were spells for everything. It sounded like a good start. Getting past her dance was the first large hurdle. And if they weren't effected by that they could probably high tail it out of there no problem. Cassandra picks up the last of her stuff and gets ready to climb into the keep again.

In the morning, Cassandra prepares for the coming fight. If Vallen and Jenya were talking about cold iron then she should probably prepare that as was well. She reorganized her quiver to put the 10 cold iron arrows she had near the front. She could tell by fletching alone which was which but this way should wouldn't have to spend the second or so feeling the feathers to make sure she had the right one. Hesitance was death in a fight.

"So how are we dealing the dancing? I hope we aren't charging in again and preying we aren't affected. Seems like the odds are against us there." She could probably blindfold herself and find the creature by scent alone. It didn't look like a close range fighter. But regular claws against magical flesh rarely worked. And no one else had her sense of smell.

"Oh, uh. I don't...I don't know. I had family to help with things like that," she said. She was also feeling rather useless on those two fronts. The crazy elf easily clouded her mind with it's hypnotic dance and she didn't fancy fighting it blindfolded. And anything that could kill a unicorn that cleanly was not something to mess with lightly. Hopefully it was a one time thing.

She looks at Jenya's gun, Misfire, but said nothing. Truth be told, she didn't like it. It was loud and smelled awful. Anything "more" and she doubted she would be able to stand too close to it anymore. Her ears and nose were important after all.

Awkward silence.

Ilystria:
Cassandra turned to Ilystria and flinched back at the sight of her tiny, sharp teeth. She got the impression of a piranha smiling. "What? No I meant..." Cassandra sighed and tried to get her thoughts in line. "I meant I just want to go wander through the woods for a few days. No worries, no responsibilities, no..." she waves her hand vaguely at the tower, "no crazy elf ladies trying to kill me. Back home all I used to do was watch birds dance in the sky, listen to the wind in the leaves, try and stay as close as I could to a deer without it knowing. Now it's all meetings, training, scouting reports, and...crazy elf ladies trying to kill you. I don't want to literally disappear, just a break."

Jenya:
She turns to Jenya and frowns. She'd never thought much about defending from a fortified position. She was more knowledgeable and comfortable on the move. Hit and run. Then she realized Jenya was probably talking about Emeria as a whole, not just the tower. For now, their only option was forewarning. "Well, we don't have an army or even a militia. People might take up arms but you can't count on that. So I guess our best option is early warning. Then dissuade threats before they become a big issue." She shrugged. "Best we can do for now. I wouldn't even now where to start with other things like smugglers and thieves. That's what you take care of right?"

Cassandra had misgivings about staying anywhere near the castle but they needed to deal with this. It'd be just their luck some random hunter or tracker would wander through and caught unawares. She didn't know what the creature would do to you once she got you but it couldn't have been good. Now even their exploration through beautiful wilderness was dampened but fighting more strange monsters stalking the woods. What was with this place? Would she ever get a break? To just go wandering without any responsibility weighing on her? These last few months had been really stressful. And still no word from her family, her village. Not this this was a good time, but it'd be nice to get a letter or a visit. "I want to disappear for a week."

I'll take 2nd or 3rd as scent will likely be useful.

I would much prefer luring it outside or collapsing the building. The infestation of plants is also a problem that may make it unsafe for later. It doesn't look like it will leave, at least not during the day, and destruction may hamper construction later. So Vallen's plan for now. If that fails, bring it down.

Some part of Cassandra's mind knew the danger they were in the entire time it was fogged over with the elf thing's magic because as soon as she couldn't see it she bolted with the others. Once outside and she breaths heavily, more out of fear than exertion. "That did not go well. How are we going to defeat something we can't even look at? Bring the tower down?"

Let's leave and make a plan.

I only had a 40% chance of making it even with the bonus. Hell of a Will save. An Obscuring Mist would allow us to flee at the very least.

Will: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 2 = 10

Far away, a loud voice yelled something Cassandra couldn't quite make out. It sounded serious, panicked. Well that was unfortunate for them. They should come here and watch the pretty elf do her dance. The more Cassandra focused on her the less the world seemed a problem. Even other sounds faded. Jenya's gun didn't even make her flinch and she knew how loud that thing could be. All Cassandra heard and saw was the rustle of fabric and gyrations of an inhumanly lithe, elf-like creature.

Ooh, shiny. I mean shaky. Jiggly? Do I like jiggly? Right now I do. Uh oh. Looks like Jenya's jealous. Hehe.

But I want a touch. Cassandra pouted, though the effect was mostly lost on her feral appearance, as Vladric drew closer.

K:Nature: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
Will: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

"Wow. She's...She's..." Cassandra's bow droops and nearly falls from her grasp as a peaceful look takes over her feral face.

I wish I could say I have a good reason but I don't. Work picked up a little but it's mostly because I just haven't had the motivation. I got distracted by a new web serial (A Practical Guide to Evil) and then just kept putting it off. I've been on the boards for almost 4 years (juggling 12 games at my peak I think) and I think I am finally feeling burnt out. In the coming days I think I will drop a few of them but this will not be one of them if you'll still have me after disappearing. I know I get irritated when others do it so I expect nothing less in return.

"I didn't see anything cause that," Cassandra says, waving away some of the residual mist. Reaching into her pack, she takes out a bandanna and ties it over her nose and mouth. If the mist was based on inhalation it should help. "Anyone else bring one?" she asks looking around at the others. If they do go with Vallen's cautious approach, she stands watch behind everyone bow and arrows at the ready.

Cassandra rolls her eyes at the grumpy dwarf. So elves made a castle? You'd think he'd be impressed? Instead he seemed insulted. "Other races can build nice things too Vallen." She then looks at the steps Jenya pointed out and halts her. "Hang on. If the last plant was dangerous, those might be too."

Nature: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Well, hopefully survival is the correct skill to identify the plants on the steps. Is the smell worse here?

Nature: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
Survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14 Hurr Durr, what plant?

"What are you guys looking at?" Cassandra asks through slightly teary eyes. Whatever that smell was, she was having a bad reaction to it. She tries to sneeze quietly but only seems to make the tears worse.

"Remember to keep your eyes on the inner keep," Cassandra reminds them as she watches the windows and doors wearily.

"Don't know. Just bad."

I thought there was only one mostly collapsed. SW works.