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[D&D 4e] The End of the World (IC)

Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
edited August 2011 in Critical Failures
The End of the World - a D&D 4e Adventure

Babel-tint2.jpg


Armageddon was coming. Everybody knew it. Every sign, every star portended it. Every psychic foresaw it. Every experiment verified it. The gods above and the spirits of the dead below confirmed it. It was coming, and soon. Within two years, some said. Some scoffed at that. “Maybe someday, but never so soon.”, they said. Others denied it entirely, denied it with a mad fervor born of desperation. Some accepted it as part of a great, natural cycle. Others accepted it as a righteous judgment on a fallen world. Madness was everywhere, and spreading. Most, though, just wanted to know how to survive it.

The dwarves began sealing themselves in their great underground fortresses, each warded by a million million interlocking runes. Proof against anything, they believed. The Grand Coven of Pel sacrificed a thousand children to conjure a great gleaming dome over their city. Rumors say the childrens’ parents offered them willingly. Ester, the fey city, tore itself from the ground and floated into the clouds, while the island of Gnosis, home of the Grand Temple of Ioun, sank beneath the waves. Bodies washed ashore on the nearby coast for days. Whether something went wrong, who can say?

Strange, terrible rumors are everywhere. A village disappeared, or just its inhabitants. A distant town is overrun by cannibals, or else turned cannibal itself. A vast herd of steppe elk invaded a city in the south, goring and trampling everyone in sight before stampeding en masse into the river to drown. A sudden peace developed between two Houses that had been feuding for generations, each suddenly concerned with other things. War broke out between ancient allies over a dusty, forgotten relic rumored to command protective powers.

The Circle Wood fossilized overnight, every branch, every leaf turned hard as stone. The Palace of the Bey of Niidur was engulfed in an opaque mist, with just the Bey, his viziers, and his thousand wives inside. Those brave few who venture into the mist invariably stumble out days later, having encountered nothing at all within the dense fog. The Council of Minds announced a grand stratagem for saving their city of Nouia, but what it was will remain a mystery. The Cult of Rebirth seized the council and burned them on a great pyre as enemies of the Holy Apocalypse.

Here, in the vast human city of Tobruk, skepticism reigns. The Congress of Merchants issues regular proclamations that even if some great “disturbance” is coming, it’s not imminent and there are plans in place to ensure that the city’s inhabitants are protected in any case. The dwarves to the north are paying for grain with nearly its weight in silver, and the Congress is thrilled to accommodate them. Ships heavy with wheat and oats set out nearly every hour. The Midsummer Festival is entering its sixth week now, the Congress having announced its continuation yet again. Food and drink are free and abundant, and games with prizes of gold and silver are held nearly every night. Even the Cult seems to join in, singing songs of jubilation around their bonfires each dusk. Every night the city is consumed in a desperate frenzy of feasting and music and debauchery.

Every day the End of Days draws nearer.


City of Tobruk
Tobruk.png

Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
Tiger Burning on
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  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    edited July 2011
    Dusk is settling on the city of Tobruk, but the festivities are just beginning on the South Quay square. Lanterns are lit around the periphery of the square, and a small group of Doomers, as members of the Cult of Rebirth are derisively called, are preparing to light a somewhat modest bonfire. The fires were more grand earlier in the summer, but with the “Midsummer’s Eve” festival now entering its sixth week, wood fit for burning is getting hard to find. People joke that if the Doomers’ “Holy Apocalypse” doesn’t come soon, they’ll be forced to sing their songs gathered around candles.

    A minstrel wanders the crowd singing love ballads and offering “command performances fit for the Dragon King’s Court” to young couples whenever he encounters them. A bear with the head of a bird, wearing a wig and an evening gown, is “dancing” near the fountain while three gnomes play their instruments, poorly, nearby. Ominous clouds over the sea to the east are obscured now by the failing light, but the threat of a storm on the morrow lingers and adds an electricity to the unseasonably cool air. A merchant ship coasts silently to the wharf ahead of the darkening sea.

    Tables are set haphazardly around the square, and harried women and girls with low-cut blouses and well-developed biceps carry heaping platters from nearby buildings to the tables in a constant stream. The taverns on the South Quay, as elsewhere in the city, take the Congress of Merchants’ silver in exchange for providing free food and drink to all comers. The food is terrible, but hot. The drink is worse, but strong.

    At one of the large, communal tables sits as strange and diverse a group as can be found anywhere in this great polyglot city on the eastern edge of the world. Are they strangers? Friends? Does it matter? The dark times give common cause to all who would find a way through them, and the primal need for survival means no friend, however close, can be trusted completely.


    ===========================================

    A drunken feyish dressed in travelling leathers stumbles toward the group. “Well, what do we have her..” He stops abruptly as his groin unexpectedly encounters the edge of the table. The half-elf looks down to take in the situation, and then drops ungracefully onto the bench. With exaggerated care he sets his clay mug onto the filthy wooden surface of the table before turning, bleary-eyed, toward the group.

    “What was I shaying? Oh yesh, who are you all shupposed to be? Huh? Are you part of the c-circus? Are you here to do tricks for our amushement, like that bear-thing over there? Are you here to dishtract us from wha’sh going on? Do you even know wha’sh going on? 'Cause I do! I’ve been out there! The Congressh doesn’t know shit! I’ve been out there! Do you know what I’ve sheen?"

    “The earthward end of the insides of an ale barrel?” says a gnome near the far end of the long table, dressed in well-tailored but rumpled silks.

    The half-breed’s head whips unsteadily around. “Fuck y-..wait.. where.. you! Fuck you, you shit-sized dirt dumpling. You don’t know what I’ve seen! The shit I’ve.. ,” He quiets and turns back to his mug. In a dead voice and to no one in particular, he says, “You don’t know what I’ve seen. The things I’ve seen. Out there.” He seems suddenly, painfully sober. “It’s fucked. All of it. This city. All of it. It’s fucked.” He drains his mug.

    “We’re all fucked.”

    Tiger Burning on
    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    The dusty, road-worn half-giant looked up from his drink with a creak, rubbing his neck and wincing. "Are you talking about the woods, and the wilds? I've seen some insanity these last few weeks, I'll tell you. Though it seems, as much as anything, to be craziness pushed out into the wilds from other lands."

    He looked around the room, seeing the faces, the eyes, the mixes of hope and despair. "Surely there's more we can do than just give up."

  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    edited July 2011
    The Palace of the Bey of Niidur, an immense structure that held the promise of untouched knowledge and learning to those able to gain the Bey's favour, had just vanished into the mists. To the young boy earning his living in the small villages throughout the humid clime as a cheap entertainer this was like a punch in the gut. His long-held hope that carried him to the region to begin with, what he had sacrificed for to work his way up in the politicized world of the viziers to gain even the briefest glimpse of the Bey so that he might be granted access to the stores of magical knowledge within, all gone in a literal puff of smoke. It may as well have been a direct punch to his gut, these strange times we find ourselves living in where the very world changes its fundamentals whether you like it or not.

    But then, couldn't it be considered an opportunity? These mists were rumoured to contain nothing within them: no palace; no Bey; wandering souls emerging days later with only a few hours memory shocked to find their brief exploration turned into days of being presumed lost forever. After his initial bout of drink-induced melancholy, the boy picked himself up and began thinking. Perhaps it was all an illusion or enchantment, something designed to spirit the Bey and his closest confidants off into guarded safety. Hell, everyone else was making elaborate preparations for the supposed end of the world, why wouldn't the Bey also entertain such notions? It could be a learning exercise, to understand and unravel this mystery and be the first to find one's way through the mists.

    Packing his things, the boy said goodbye to his temporary shelter, providing entertainment for an Innkeeper's establishment, and headed off towards the edge of the mists in search of his puzzle. Lingering like an early morning fog over the vast area that the palace once occupied, the opaque cloud clung to his soft clothing like dew as he breathed in the moist, humid air. There didn't seem to be anything overtly magical about the fog as he gleaned at it with a trained apprentice's eye. But there must be some secret to unravel here, some mystery to solve that would earn his keep and shower him with the knowledge he so desired to study.

    And so, the boy took one step forward and walked into the Mists of the Bey of Niidur...




    The old man sits in his chair at the large communal table, arms resting haphazardly upon the wooden furniture as a mug rests near him, filled yet completely untouched. His white hair wilts down from his knotted and wrinkled head, not exactly unkempt but not the most tidy of appearances. A glazed expression stares out past the drunk jester's ministrations, head tilting occasionally as the old man's stare remains upon the gathering bonfire and the preparations of the Doomers, at times a light smile occasionally coming to his lips accompanied by a soft chuckle at some unseen memory before fading back into the lost expression like a ray of sunlight into mists.

    He watches the Cult of Rebirth even through all their unappreciated (or feared or unwanted) preparations until the jester's tone turns self-defeating, the poor man's troubles seemingly catching up to him as if he was falling from a great height and suddenly saw the ground below him rising to meet him. His expression moving from glazed detachment to a slight, saddened frown as he looks at the man, the filled cup in front of him slowly rises through the air from its placed on the table. Taking a path around his companions much like a bartender might do to avoid any unfortunate collisions though in this case without the aforementioned bartender, it comes to a stop just above the jester's own mug, tilting over and slowly filling up his receptacle with more ale.

    Mazda looks on should the jester look up shocked, a reassuring expression apparent through his features and a slight nod given in response almost like a pat on the back were the old man sitting close enough to deliver it. The cup, now emptied, resumes its trip back around the communal table to return to its master as his attention turns back towards the Doomfire.

    Aegis on
    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • SkyCaptainSkyCaptain Registered User regular
    Korren rested his chin atop the vambraces of his armor. The chair he sat upon was turned around and his arms draped across the headrest.

    "If the world is going to end," Korren mutters, "I wish it would get on with it. It is beginning to feel like the gods are having a laugh at our expense."

    The RPG Bestiary - Dangerous foes and legendary monsters for D&D 4th Edition
  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    "... like that bear-thing over there?" The face Kaz had borrowed for the evening turned sour as he turned to the prattling drunk. And the rugged bounty hunter act was working so well with the serving girl now attempting to get as far away from the half-elf as possible.

    "Well I was thinking of entertaining that sweet little thing you just chased off. Although I guess the only difference is now I'm talking to a soft voiced doe eyed lady without the ample chest the serving girl had on her." the Changeling took a long pull from his mug and wiped foam from his newly acquired beard as he lowered it. "Since I'm not an ear man, why don't you provide the entertainment by telling us some details about what you've seen?" As he settled back and took another long draught Kaz began idly twirling a silver coin across his knuckles.

  • The Muffin ManThe Muffin Man Registered User regular
    "You should do more with your life."
    "I did more with my life. I'm a Paladin of the Silver Scale. I'm revered and respected by the town. I drink free, for Bahamuts' sake!"
    His mother furrowed her brow.
    "I already have to live with the idea that the only reason my elven husband won't outlive me is because this damned world is ending..."
    "It's NOT going to-"
    "But I will damned sure not let you waste the last days drinking til dawn and sleeping til dusk."
    Traugot sat up.
    "I moved out for a reason...I do my job. I take my faith seriously. I've gotten gifts and training from Dwarven smiths and wardens of the earth! What more do you WANT of me, mother!? Are you not proud of me already!?"
    "Traugot, of COURSE I'm proud. But seeing you simply sit back and let this happen? It hurts a mothers' heart to know her boy is so brave, yet shrinks in the face of the apocalypse."
    He couldn't help but chuckle. "Very well. If it will give your weary heart rest, I will do it."
    "Take this." She offered him a long box. "Your fathers blade; Shandastar Mys. And his most prized badge."
    "From...the flesh of his friends?" He took it gingerly, cringing at the thought. He knew it was not a disturbing act or evil ritual that brought such a horrible trinket into creation. In fact, quite the opposite. Each of them had sacrificed a small lump of flesh, signifying that 'My flesh protects my allies, and their flesh protects me'. A sort of Warrior's Pact. Signifying that even when they go their separate ways, they will always protect each other.
    It still creeped him right the hell out.
    With a heavy heart, he kissed his mothers cheek, buckled the sheathe to his waste, and did the snaps and buckles on his armor.
    "Where will you go?"
    Traugot picked up his shield, "Where all Adventurers go to find work; The tavern!"
    His mother gave him an unimpressed look. Somehow, she felt she had been snow-jobbed.
    A quick surveying of the tavern showed him a table full of heavily armored men, and a few fairly buxom (and unusually well-"armed") barmaidens. Of course, the latter was no new sight. The former, however...He took a seat beside the Dwarf, nodding gently to the group. And then the drunk stumbled over.
    "Oh dear sweet Bahamut."



    Traugot waved his hand dismissively at Kaz' comment.
    "A drunk like him has only 'The one that got away' stories."
    He chuckled to himself, "I swear you guys, the dragon was as big as THIRTY dragons! And it could breath PLANETS! No, really!"
    With a derisive chuckle, he turned his attention to the wizard, "Such a waste of good ale."
    He did his best to get his mind off women and alcohol for once in his adult life, eying the place for any potential employers.
    "Someone here has got to want SOMETHING done. A stepping stone, an opening, a first step up the stairway of heroics..."
    Perception! 1d20+2=12
    Cuz I had nothing better to do.

  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    Best thievery roll ever, 1d20+10=12. Also checking around for anyone that looks like they may be in need of a party to right wrongs and rob tombs. 1d20+1=18

    Kaz blames the swill in his now empty mug as he fumbles at the small pouch the passing gambler is wearing, "Right now I'd settle for the bottom rung of the stepladder of mildly interesting. And with no prospects for our merry band I figure we may as well have a chuckle while Dragonsbreath here tells us that he's offering twenty wives each, a vault of gold, and a very hardworking plow rabbit for saving his village from a rabid pack of dire hummingbirds."
    Following his clumsy fumble at a stranger's belt with a wave at a server, he holds up his mug upside down. Trading it for a full mug from a girl that looked like she had better things to do than listen to Roland the Thorn wax poetic about her skill with a tray he idly scanned the room while pretending to listen to the slurring drunk and idly sipping his ale.

  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    edited July 2011
    "Better the ale gone to waste to combat demons from beyond than for it to sour untouched as the world slowly turns towards its inevitable doom," Mazda replies in slow speech to Traugot's lamentation over the now emptied cup. After the mentioning of doom, the old man tilts his head to glance back towards the burgeoning bonfire. "Doom," He says, mostly to himself, "I wonder if there will be fireworks and dancing before the end. That would be nice."

    Aegis on
    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    "But even if the world's doom is inevitable, does it have to happen right now? Perhaps we can convince it to wait a century or two?"

    "Maybe I'm just a hammer looking for a nail, but I can't help but think that a band of adventurers such as ourselves, with some luck, could find a way to undo at least some of the madness. Or, barring that, find a pocket of safety, more immune to the insanity than other places." He and Kaz share a look - they'd had this same conversation several times this afternoon.

    The half-giant smiles at the serving maid as she refreshes his drink. "Of course, with paradise secured, we would then come back for wenches to share it with us," watching her backside as she moves away.
    Perception check, more for the room than the backside, though I'll take either: d20+8 = 26

  • jcpillarsjcpillars Registered User
    Unkirk's knife scraped against his plate. He was eating with an ivory-handled dagger shaped like a horn, jabbing the roasted chicken and ripping it apart with his fingers. At his feet, a mangy, stray dog wagged his tail. Unkirk fed him directly, only stopping occasionally to pat him on the head. Lifting his head to watch a group of dancers, the stout dwarf had his helmet pulled low over his eyes. He could scarcely understand half of what was being said in this strange land. His grasp of the common tongue wasn't great, yet he knew more than most dwarves.

    When the drunken half-elf plopped at the table and started stammering, Unkirk moved his stein of beer to the other side.

    "I've seen ye', half-giant," the dwarf belched, looking at the huge mass of muscles of Aspen. "I don't give up ser easy! An' I gotta feelin' yer da same."

    "As fer dis' fella," Unkirk said motioning to the drunken half-elf. "I got me doubts wedder he can see to da end o' da table! Now if ye gots somethin' ye want to say to us, ye better spit it out now. 'Fore ye make me angry. I been 'round long enough that I kin' tell that dis' here group ain't one ye want to be trifling with. So spit it out, or beg at anudder table. Ye won't be seein' coin from da likes of us- but ye might feel da back o' me hand. Or worse!"

    Unkirk's greasy fingers hold his ivory-handled dagger pointed threateningly at the drunkard, but his eyes and demeanor are relaxed. He hasn't even gotten up. As far as threats go, his is an idle one, meant more to scare than to provoke.
    Unkirk attempts to intimdiate the drunken half elf for information. Intimidate: 19http://4e.orokos.com/roll/46510


  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    The goliath waves his mug toward Kaz. "What of you, friend? Any stories from your travels that you care to share? Or perhaps one to start, for us to finish?"

  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    edited July 2011
    Kaz lowered his mug and thought for a moment. Roland the Thorn had been "traveling" for a few months, it seemed reasonable that he'd have a day or two of excitement among the weeks of bad food and sleeping on rocks.

    "Well let's just say that the doomers playing at rituals over there are like the men that show up at a temple when they need their favorite champion to win a match they bet on." He rubbed the line that split "Roland's" lip, scars could be so troublesome to shift into correctly, "Out in the wilds they're a lot more devoted. A farmer's virgin daughter found flayed against a tree, here, a town full of folk drained of blood there. Against regular folks and fat sheriffs they can be very dangerous." He fingered one of the throwing knives on his belt, "Against harder men the challenge is finding them. Mind you, they're usually armed, and you'll usually run into a cleric or mage trying to bring about chaos. But I've yet to see the plagues other fighters speak of."

    Still toying with the shuriken he raised his mug again and nodded at the half-elf, "So unless you know the location of some choice throats to cut and coin to be found, I suggest you be on your way."
    Yes, Kaz is making this up as part of his Roland the Thorn act. He's actually spent the festival alternating between pretending to be a minstrel in town for the festivities, sneak thieving his way into traveler's closets, and depositing his ill gotten gains into Murlo's account or buying up adventuring gear. Also, impressing anyone nearby with my boasts. Bluff 1d20+11=19

    Razorwired on
  • jcpillarsjcpillars Registered User
    Unkirk stares at Kaz with wide-eyed belief and admiration. He lets a greasy leg of chicken fall off of his plate. The stray dog at his feet quickly grabs it, gobbles up every shred of meat, and takes the bone behind a barrel to chew on it.

    "How many o' dem did ye run into? And did ye see anythin'... unnatural?"
    Insight vs. Kaz's bluff: 13 vs. 19 (He is thoroughly impressed) http://4e.orokos.com/roll/46538

  • SkyCaptainSkyCaptain Registered User regular
    Korren muttered into his mug of ale. The celebration had been enjoyable at first in spite of the Doomers. It was time for things to get back to as normal as they could be given the circumstances.

    "This whole damn mess is unnatural."

    The RPG Bestiary - Dangerous foes and legendary monsters for D&D 4th Edition
  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    Kaz chuckled, while this borrowed life wasn't the most luxurious or prominent that he'd enjoyed, he found himself liking the other adventurers for the most part. Particularly the slab of a warden seated at the table. Something about other monstrous people. They usually took the whole, "I can turn into other people." thing so much better.

    He nodded at the seaman and speared a gray mushy lump with his knife. Holding it up to to him he said, "A lot of things in this world are unnatural. Would you believe that this morning this monstrosity was an honest little potato?"

    "Roland" popped the potato-thing into his mouth and regretted it immediately. Using his ale to wash his mouth out he continued, "As for the cultists... They're mostly what you'd expect from listening to old men like our friendly wizard. I'm sure that if I could read what they write on the walls of their ritual rooms I'd be a lot more scared. But who knows, maybe I've just been fighting small fry."

    Speaking of small fry, he picked at the "fish" that had been placed at the table some time ago. Remembering the last taste that came off the platter, he opted to just keep talking, "One instance does come to mind though. A family that ran a roadhouse maybe two days out of town. Doomers hauled the lot of 'em off one night. By the time we got out there wasn't much left to let you know you were lookin' at humans."

    The rogue took a long drink from his mug. Hopefully if any employers were in earshot he could at least make some money scarin' their kids with tales of doomers come to snatch up little boys that throw rocks at ponies, "We scoured the surrounding area for a week. Finally caught up to them in a little cave by the river. A couple of thug kids and an old lady boilin' something that smelled worse than this mess." Kaz gestured to the sloppily cooked vegetables on the table, "The kids weren't anything. Like I said, only dangerous to little girls and sleeping merchants. But the damnedest thing happened when we came for the crone. She starts talkin' in this weird magic language. Then she up and kicks her cauldron over. And as sure as the beard on my face the innkeeper's daughter climbs out of that gore. 'Cept somethin's wrong with her. She only sputters and gurgles when she tries to talk. Then she charges us. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem but stabbin' her didn't do any good and she was a lot stronger than a 16 year old girl ought to be. She kept movin' after taking an arrow to the neck and my knife to her ribs. She also gave me this little beauty mark." Kaz gestures to the hairless line in his beard. "Kept comin' after us until Urik smashed her head in with his maul. And by the time we figured that out the old woman was long gone."

  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    The warden leans in. "Did the crone take her cauldron with her, or did she have to leave it behind?"

  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    edited August 2011
    The Feyling's Tale, Part 1

    “You see, feyling? You’re not the only one to see terrible things ‘out there’.” the gnome says to the half-elf, “So yes, yes, by all means share with us your drunken hallucinations.”

    Although he seemed oblivious to threats, exhortations, mockery, or indeed anything besides the mug in front of him and whatever he was seeing in his mind’s eye, the half-breed begins to speak, “I traded amber down to the south. To the jungle nations along the Fangs. For more than ten years, now – amber from the Ystwood, then up the Sallas River through the jungle to the mountians. The people there are barely more than savages, all shifters and lizardfolk and stranger, and they worship the dragons that live in the mountains. There are a lot of dragons in those mountains, a lot of the great, old ones, too, the ones that have lived for a thousand years and speak like people do.” He took another gulping swallow, and some of the rank liquor dribbled unnoticed onto his shirt. “Or there used to be.”

    “Toatl is the largest of the cities there, the only thing that could be called a city, though it’s a tenth the size of this.” He gestures vaguely around, spilling more of his drink. Noticing that the Doomers have gotten their fire started, he spits on the ground in their direction. “They don’t have any of that shit there, they don’t know anything about any “Holy Apocalypse” and wouldn’t care if they did. They have their God King to protect them, after all, and what could be more terrible than that? Damn near bigger than this entire square, all red scales and claws as long as a man. It would sit up there on the top of the pyramid they built for it, baking in the sun and occasionally calling out for some delicacy to be brought to it, or for some physical or artistic feat to be performed for its amusement. Occasionally it would require some sacrifice, or just eat a dozen people for some insult, but that’s just the price of religion, eh? Crime was non-existant, and they paid for amber with gold. Mountain gold for tree gold, can’t do better than that, right? ” He smiled at the rest of the table, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

    “A few months ago they started finding them. Dead dragons. In the foothills and jungle around the city. I wanted to laugh when I heard it, though I dare not in that city, of course. Dead dragons are nothing new. They kill each other as often as they speak to each other, and there is always some group of young idiots with more muscle than brains out looking to slay dragons and steal their “horde”. Only, these weren’t wyrmlings or young ones, barely more than animals themselves. These were big ones, adults, and they were finding them staked out in clearings or on hilltops, impaled on great spikes driven into the ground, like .. like trophies. People started whispering about Itzal, or “hunter”, though to do so in the God King’s hearing was death.”

    “Two months ago I.. the whole city.. was awoken in the middle of the night by a high, keening sound. It seemed to come from the sky above, though it was hard to tell distance or direction. It was piercing, painful to hear. It wasn’t a natural sound, and it didn’t seem to be language, but it had the cadence of hideous, mocking laughter. The sound continued for a few minutes without pause before the God King answered with a roar that shattered glass throughout the city, and launched itself in to the air. The battle was like a storm. Cries of rage and pain louder than thunder. The contest was invisible but for flashes of fire and lightning in every hue. And then, as suddenly as a summer squall, it was over, and a dead silence fell on the city. Rumors spread quickly when the first light of dawn appeared, though everyone seemed to know already what the sun would reveal. There was their God King, impaled on a great spike of black iron driven into the top of its pyramid.”

    “I sold what was left of my stock at whatever price I could get, and then packed myself onto a riverboat heading north. When I left they hadn’t taken down the body, but instead went to pray to it dawn and dusk, though now only as an idol. And their prayers are now addressed to Itzal, the Hunter.”

    The half-elf finishes his drink. “What.. what the hell kind of thing hunts great dragons??”



    Full night falls as the half-elf speaks. The square is now lit only by moonlight and fire. The cultists in their white robes are swaying and singing their strange songs around their bonfire. Though most ignore them, a few people from the crowd join in. The owlbear in fancy dress is balking at the dance, perhaps made nervous by the gathering crowd of festival goers. One of the gnomes puts down his instrument to pick up a small whip, cruelly barbed. The trading vessel wheels expertly and thumps gently up against the wharf. Sailors leap across the gap to begin tying off.


    Tiger Burning on
    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • The Muffin ManThe Muffin Man Registered User regular
    Traugot took a sip of ale and shifted in his seat.
    "Like a mongoose, most likely."
    He put down his ale and leaned back, watching the confused glances he drew, "A mongoose does not fight a snake. It is fast enough to avoid being bitten, and resistant to the snakes' venom in case it IS bitten. We might not be dealing with something simply more powerful than a dragon, but rather more CUNNING. Or even merely resistant to flames, and too quick for the dragon to hit."
    He looked over at his allies, as he leaned back in his chair a bit more, legs kicking up onto the table, "Anything ELSE that could take a great dragon down with such relative ease would not hesitate to end the world itself, I say. I'm game for a little dragon hunter hunting. Boys?"

  • SkyCaptainSkyCaptain Registered User regular
    Korren stands, shrugging his heavy shield over his shoulder. The Kraken's Fang trident crackles with lightning briefly as the mariner grasps it.

    "We'd best see what lies amidships, rather than looking towards the horizon." Korren points at the dancing 'bear'. "That's no costume... it's an owlbear!"

    The RPG Bestiary - Dangerous foes and legendary monsters for D&D 4th Edition
  • jcpillarsjcpillars Registered User
    Unkirk raises a bushy eye-brow at the prospect.

    "Ush galen bro sendirian helid gong Nibelungenlied."
    (For those who speak dwarven)
    From the mouth of the dragon comes a fist full of diamonds.

    Slamming down his stein on the table so hard he cracks the mug, sending a plume of ale high into the air, the dwarf stands before the wet slop splashes on the table.

    "To arms! I'm not goin' to sit by and let the Apocalypse take me at my trencher! Let's meet the end o' the world head on. Gnome southerner, ye seem to know da lay o' da land. Tell us. Where kin' we fight this rising evil, and perhaps gain a few coins in venture."

    He then withdraws his sword and points it at the gnome with the cruel, barbed whip in the center of the square. "If yer thinkin' of usin' that whip on that poor creature gnome, ye better be prepared to deal wit' the likes of Unkirk Boldergast. Now back away from da beast!"

    The dog behind the barrel chewing on the chicken bone perks up his head for a moment at the raucous dwarf, and then goes back to his bone obviously disinterested.

  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    "Those idiots!" The half-giant stands, gathering his gear around him, preparing for the worst. "An enraged owlbear in this kind of crowd?"
    Rolling nature for how the owlbear is likely to act in this situation, and if anything can be done to minimize the violence:
    12

  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    edited August 2011
    Mazda listens quite attentively to the drunk's tale of dragons and exotic swamplands, smiling at the splendour being described until the mention of staked dragons and god-kings at which point the old man cringes and shakes his head. Returning his attention to the growing fire and dance, he sighs contented at the relaxing display of dance and warmth but then follows Korren's gaze as he indicates the dancing bear, "Poor thing, should we give it a leg of chicken?"

    As the rest of the nearby individuals stand and confront the cagehandler over the creature's treatment, Mazda tilts his head watching on, though occasionally looking between those nearby that might be about to answer his question.

    Aegis on
    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • SkyCaptainSkyCaptain Registered User regular
    Korren pauses a moment to answer Mazda's question, though his attention remains on the owlbear. Perhaps the others at the table confronting the gnome had staved off the worst of the aggravation of the owlbears temper.

    "It's funny how the simple things in life can mean the most. I'm sure the owlbear would like a leg of chicken. But would he prefer it baked or a little bit of chicken fried?"

    The RPG Bestiary - Dangerous foes and legendary monsters for D&D 4th Edition
  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    edited August 2011
    “Wha-? Well, of course it’s an owlbear! You think anyone would pay to see some oaf in a bear suit? This is the big city! I saw those fellows perform last week. They had that thing balancing on a giant ball of marble. I’m sure they have it under control.”, says the gnome, slurring his speech only slightly. Turning back to the half-elf and gesturing to the party, he goes on, “And there, you see? These likely lads right here are ready to sort out your ‘dragon hunter’. People are always going on and on about the terrible things that happening in far off places. Funny that it never seems to happen right here, though, isn’t it? Or, like, on the next street over. No, it’s always over the Endless Sea, across the Mountains of Gloom, blah blah.. ‘End of the world’? It’s nonsense, I say. World’s just as close to ending as it always is. A lot of people overreacting, is what I say.” The gnome takes a long drink, and lets out a loud belch.

    “I wasn’t finished.” Says the half-elf, quietly but intently.

    Tiger Burning on
    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    edited August 2011
    The Feyling’s Tale, Part 2

    “It only took us a few days to get out of the jungle.”, he continued, eyes directed at his mug, but focused on some other place and time. “It’s a lot faster travelling downstream than up, but we couldn’t go fast enough. Not for me. I felt like there was something just above me, all the time, like I could look up at anytime and see.. something. And that laughter followed me everywhere.”

    “But eventually the river left the jungle behind. So great was my relief that it took me days to realize that something was wrong. When I had come up the river some weeks before, life in the villages along its banks had been booming and raucous. The fishing had never been so good. And it wasn’t so much that there were more fish, but that the fish were getting bigger. A fisherman we passed along the way had shown us a river trout the size of a small cow - though it looked odd, deformed somehow. It barely fit in his boat. And he said that others had caught larger ones. Many along the river were abandoning nets altogether, and not so much catching fish as hunting them, with spears and crossbows. The fishing hamlets along the river were bustling with this unexpected bounty, then.”

    “Coming back downstream, there were no boats at all. No fisherman, no barges, nothing. We stopped at one village to ask for news, but could entice no one to come to the river, even to trade. We could see the smoke from cookfires, but no villagers would answer our calls. So a party went ashore. They said the villagers were terrified of the river now, that they believed that the river was punishing them somehow, ‘for their greed’. There had been deaths, we gathered. Drownings, presumably. In a small community, it doesn’t take but a few freak deaths to hit hard. We left them to their grief.”

    “Two days later the first crewman disappeared. It was at night. No one saw or heard anything. He just wasn’t there in the morning. His bed had been slept in, and all his things were still there. Even his boots. The pilot said he must have been drunk, and fallen into the water when he went to piss. It happens, sometimes. Not much to do on the river but drink, after all.”

    “Another disappeared the next night, and the captain confiscated all the spirits on the boat, threw them overboard. We passed two more villages, both abandoned completely. They had been thriving not six weeks past. A few nights later another of the crew disappeared, and no one offered any excuses, this time. ”

    “The very next night I woke from a nightmare in which I was falling from the sky, pursued by terrible laughter. In the moonlight, I could see the night pilot standing on the barge’s low forecastle. He stood perfectly still, looking to port. He didn’t move at all for a space of ten breaths, and I wondered if he had mastered the art of sleeping standing up. Then he took four steps straight forward, and a fifth right off the boat’s port side. He made hardly a sound. I choked out a half-strangled cry of dismay and rushed to the portside ledge, preparing to jump in if needed. The pilot floated there, on his back, face perfectly calm and eyes fixed on the stars above. I opened my mouth to call out to him. Then..” The half-elf lifted his mug to drink, but there was nothing there.

    “There was a swell of water from downstream. There were muddy scales.. and a mouth, a great dark mouth.. it could have swallowed a wagon.. the.. there wasn’t any sound, none at all.. the pilot never moved. The boat swayed slightly as it passed, but there wasn’t a ripple as it submerged again. There was nothing. Just moonlight on still, brown water.”

    “I demanded the captain set me ashore in the morning. Paid him full fare and a bonus, and tried to convince him to join me. He wouldn’t. He said he didn’t believe me, about the.. what I saw. But he did. He just couldn’t leave his boat. It was his life.”

    The feyling’s face hardens, “Well fuck that. This is my life. And if running is what it takes to stay ahead of this thing, then I’ll run as far and as fast as I need to.” He lifts the mug halfway to his face, then remembers and frowns, and calls out for another.


    The night air cools as a sea breeze moves in from the east, ahead of a bank of clouds that are slowly obscuring the stars. There are more than a score now of cultists and cityfolk singing around the fire, some spinning and dancing in place. A few snaps of the gnome's whip in the air, not making contact, brings the owlbear back to the task at hand, and it begins to plod dutifully through its steps once more. The merchant ship is now actively unloading cargo onto the dock, and the crew is beginning to disembark.


    Moving quickly down the gangplank comes a young tiefling, her pale red skin contrasting even in the dim light with her blue acolyte’s robes. She moves rapidly and with purpose into the square, clutching a large satchel with elaborate leatherwork. She approaches the party’s table, it being one of the closest to the ship. “Please,” she speaks urgently, and with a heavy northern accent,” please, can someone tell me how to reach the Spire of Androssos? I must go there immediately.”

    “The Spire of who, sweetling? You mean the Sage’s Spire?”, answers the gnome. “It’s all the way on the other side of the harbor. It’s that light you see there, on the north cliff.” He points out the spire’s beacon light, just visible in the distance across the harbor. “The ferry’ll be here in another hour or so. It’ll get you across. You could hire a carriage, but that’ll cost, and they’re hard to find - festival and all. Ferry’s faster, anyway.”

    “Better yet, why don’t you stay here and drink with us? Spire’s been there a thousand years, it’ll still be there in the morning.”

    Tiger Burning on
    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    Having stood up to deal with the "owlbear situation", Aspen feels a bit sheepish and conspicuous. He turns to the tiefling to invite her to their table.

    "You're welcome to join us while you wait for your ferry, miss. Any news or stories of adventure would be most appreciated."

  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    Kaz's fingertips get a little itchy upon seeing such a lovely satchel. Such bags usually had items that people would pay heavily for, even if it did mean thumbing your nose at a wizard. He motioned to an empty seat, "Yes, pull up a chair, miss. I'm sure my companions and I would be happy to have you pretty up the table for a little while."

  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    The old man lightly taps his hands atop the wooden table as the singing and dancing picks up around the fire, thrumming along to the beat even as the depressing story is relayed from the crushed drunk. His attention paid mostly to the man as he speak, he winces at some of the more gruesome points of the tale, interrupting his thrumming before shaking his head and resuming the tapping. A glance is spared to the new arrival as she hurriedly asks for directions, though seeming to pay far more attention to the intricacy of the satchel and the robes than to looking to see who the person might be.

    As she stops and people begin to offer her a place at the table, one of the nearest empty chairs pulls itself out from the table of its own accord. Mazda's attention at this point is turned back towards the fire, checking in on the dancers and occasionally sighing when his glance passes over the dancing owlbear.

    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • The Muffin ManThe Muffin Man Registered User regular
    Traugot placed his hand on the hilt of his blade. He never did trust Tieflings, no matter how pretty they happened to be.
    "And why do you need to get to the Shrine so badly, madam? Is there some sort of...trouble?"
    He was not opposed to drinking til the sun arose, but he had no intention to fall asleep around a drunken half-elf, a gnome with a penchant for whipping violent beasts, and a tiefling.
    "I ask because you seem awfully insistent."
    He reaches for the pack, knowing full well he can't steal it away, taking a more direct route.
    "May I?" He motions to the satchel.

  • jcpillarsjcpillars Registered User
    Unkirk sits down abruptly on his bench. He clears the broken stein and crockery to the floor with a clumsy sweep of his sword. Laying his shield at his side, he leans the sword on his thigh as he eyes the gnomish entertainers carefully.

    "Wench! Beer! Now!" He yells towards the kitchen, irrespective of any ladies present. Catching a glance at the Tiefling woman, he turns back to the kitchen.

    "Two!" He yells. "Ye might as well sit down fer a spell, an drown yer worries. Yer ain't gonna git anywheres in dis' city tonight- that's obvious. An' yer gonna need ta get boosted to suffer thru da ramblin' of this half-elf and gnome." His wide palms slap the table with two silver coins to pay for the damage, and for another round.

    With his other hand he drags the stale end of a piece of bread through the slop, and then engulfs the gruel in a gigantic bite, the greying ooze spilling out of his mouth into his beard. Searching around for his ivory-handled dagger, he picks it up and scratches at the table while he chews. He looks up at the Tiefling with his helmet pulled low over his eyes, and gruel dripping from his beard while he neurotically scratches a primitive rune into the table.

    "Why dontchya let dat nice gentleman help ya wit' yer bag, milady?" His eyes glare dubiously. "Don't ya trust us?"

    The stray dog, fully sated now with the dust that is left of the bone, looks up at the Tiefling curiously.
    Diplomacy check to assist Traugot in his Diplomacy check: 16 http://4e.orokos.com/roll/46591

  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    edited August 2011
    The Feyling's Tale, Part 3

    “Well, I sup- what? No! Absolutely not!” She clutches the satchel to her chest and takes a step backwards as Traugot reaches for it, an alarmed expression on her face. She turns to the gnome. “The ferry you said? There?” She looks out across the harbor to the north, then back to the sea to the east, a worried frown on he face. “Thank you.” With a narrow-eyed glare at Traugot and Unkirk, she turns and walks to the dock edge, staring into the night as if intent not to miss the first sight of the ferry.

    “Ah, well, a pity.” The gnome turns his attention back to the feyling. “So that’s it, then? Fish? Giant fish is the terror of terrors that’s got you drunk and blubbering in public? Oh lad, it’s just like you said. A few freak occurrences, and people lose all sense of perspective. There’s no cause f..”

    “It was only a few days ride from the river to the border of the Ystwood. I’m from the Ystwood. I grew up there.” The half-elf speaks now with a grim determination, ignoring the gnome. “My people, my mother’s people, have lived in that wood for a hundred generations. It’s home to me..” He pauses for one second, then two. “It was home to me in a way that no other place ever could be. My people bind their children’s spirit to a sapling when they’re born. We’re.. my mother always said that we were as much a part of the wood as the trees themselves.”

    “I should have felt safe there, but.. but my unease grew the deeper in I went. There was something wrong with the forest, with the trees. There were too few animals, too few birds, and the tree themselves seemed wrong, somehow. Not diseased, even there sometimes trees can sicken and die. It’s natural. They seemed healthy tough, thriving even. But somehow they seemed to cast too many shadows, or the shadows they did cast seemed too dark.”

    “I made my way to the First Meadow, the center of our community. But there was hardly anyone there. It’s never been a large community, but instead of hundreds, I could find only a handful of my people. I asked what had happened, where everyone had gone. After the preceding weeks, a sense of dread and apprehension fell on me readily. They told me that everything was fine, and that I should speak with Elianthil.”

    “My heart lifted as soon as I saw him. Elianthil, the Rose Seer, was the eldest of my people, and a friend. He smiled warmly when he saw me, and it was as if I were a child again, come home. Still, he looked weary, as if the preceding year had aged him more than all the centuries past. I asked what had become of our people. He said that it would be better if he showed me.”


    The cool breeze off the sea is strengthening, fanning the flames of the Doomers’ fire and eliciting from it a low growl, as from a rabid dog.


    “As we walked into the woods, he told me that he had been visited in his dreams, by the spirits of our ancestors. He said that they had warned him of a terrible doom that was rapidly approaching, for us and all the world. And so he dove deep. Deep into his dreams, deep into the earth, past the furthest roots. He dove deep into the darkest part of the spirit realm, to learn the nature of this doom, and how it might be defeated.”

    “And he had found the answer, he said.”


    The owlbear is balking again. It emits a deep warbling moan and begins to cast its head around. The gnome picks up the scourge.


    “We walked deeper into the forest. He told me that our salvation had always been right there, in our own traditions. That our people had thrived through the centuries because of our bond with the trees. And that that bond would see us through the dark times ahead. But the bond would have to be stronger, closer than ever before. He said that he brought this news to our people, and that some saw the wisdom of it and acceded immediately.”

    “The forest grew darker as we move further in, though again, it seemed to my mind to be a darkness not of the light, but of the trees themselves. I felt.. something, there, an incorporeal menace, or.. hunger, like nothing I had ever encountered before. In spite of the strangeness, though, a deep sense of familiarity nagged at me. I had definitely been here before.”


    The pier and docked merchantman emit creaking groans as a small sea swell lifts them and settles again. The wind is getting colder.


    “But he said that others took more convincing, but that one by one they succumbed to the truth of his vision. Dark times were coming to the world, but the Wood would survive, he said. And it was only through total unity with the Wood that we might survive as well.”

    “It hit me suddenly, where we were. My family’s grove. But the trees were all wrong. I knew before even I saw the next clearing that this was no homecoming, but a nightmare. My mother had been there for some time. Her entire tree, a birch, was stained a glistening black, as if it were exuding tar. Her face was too far gone to offer a clue whether she had gone willingly. There could be no such doubt for my sister, though. Her face was frozen in a rictus of terror and pain, and her blood stained the face of the trunk of her elm beneath where her body was affixed.”

    “And my own tree. In spite of the unnatural darkness, the dread menace of this place that had once been so dear to me, I recognized it instantly. How could I not? It was me, a part of me. Only, one of the lower branches of the oak had been broken off, and the stub had been sharpened and shaped into an upturned hook, just above eye height.”

    “I knew before I turned that it was too late. Elianith, the Rose Seer, reached out and grabbed me by the throat. His hand was strong and impossibly hard. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing and began carrying me toward my tree. A sad, kind smile remained on his face. ‘The Time of Horror is upon us. The Wood will be a Witness to it. And so shall we.’”

    “Even it good times it’s a foolish merchant who travels unarmed. I drew a dirk I kept in my sleeve and drove it through the druid’s eye. The eye of the elf who had blessed me when I was born, who had blessed my mother when she was born. He.. it let out a scream that was.. not natural.. not an animal sound, and dropped me. I ran.”

    “But I could feel it behind me. Not the druid, my tree. I could feel my tree calling to me, hungering for me. It wanted us to be together, to welcome the coming darkness together. I could glimpse it, what was coming, through the oak that was me. The horror that’s coming, everywhere.”


    A scream pierces the air, and then a chorus of shouting and cries of alarm. People are pointing east, to the sea.


    “It’s coming, and there’s no place to run.”


    =====================================


    A wave, dozens of feet high, is rapidly approaching the docks. It will be here in moments, and there is no time to seek shelter, though people begin fleeing the square anyway. A droning sound, almost beyond the range of hearing, approaches with the wave. The owlbear roars in rage or fear, and a gnome, his scourge raised in the air, is seized in two massive paws and torn asunder. The other two gnomes dart into an alley. The beast, still wearing its gown and wig, pursues on all fours.

    The wave, instead of cresting, abruptly shrinks and disappears, merging into the dark water of the harbor. Those who witness it exclaim in wonder and relief, or just stare, confused. Did it really happen? Suddenly the earth shakes, the entire wharf seeming to heave up and down like a restless sea. People are knocked off of their feet, roof tiles fall and shatter on the cobblestones at the periphery of the square, and the cultist’s bonfire, abandoned by its creators, partially collapses.

    The merchant ship, her remaining crew clinging tightly to her rigging, begins, impossibly, to rise from the water. In the dim light it is hard to tell, but it appears that something is wrapped around the center of the ship. Ten feet, twenty, thirty.. higher and higher it rises into the night sky – and then whips suddenly forward. Those left in the square below can only stare in amazement at the sight of the three-masted ship as it tumbles through the air above them, sailors still hanging from lines and railings. A brackish rain falls briefly in the square. The ship lands with a thundering crash on the far side of the square, shattering itself on the stone and crushing dozens of citizens still trying to flee.

    Out in the harbor, the wave reappears. Only the wave seems not to move, instead just growing in place, until it is apparent that it is not a wave, but a massive dome of water and.. something else.. rising from the inky surface of the harbor. In the weak light, and on the water, it is difficult to gauge its scale, but as the moonlight reveals more, the monstrous size of the thing becomes clear. Still a thousand paces out from the wharf, it is already larger than any building in the city, including the Citadel of Coin that overlooks it from the hill. And it continues to grow. It’s contours are difficult to discern, but it seems to pulse with a disturbing iridescence. It convulses violently, and a gout of glistening, phosphorescent water larger around than the square you now stand in shoots hundreds of feet directly up, into the night sky.

    The ground lurches violently again. And another scream draws your attention. A large serpent or worm is coiled around the pier. Larger around than a man is tall, it’s eyeless head is dominated by a large, circular opening in which are visible dozens of concentric rings of wicked, curved teeth. From around the periphery of the maw protrudes dozens of flailing appendages, some large and some small. In one of them is held a figure in a blue robe. She screams again.

    The moment you've all been waiting for:

    Roll Initiative. Also, make an Athletics check against DC 10 or start the encounter prone.

    Tiger Burning on
    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • SkyCaptainSkyCaptain Registered User regular
    edited August 2011
    Korren rushes to the nearest window, his sea legs aiding him well as the ground rumbles and rolls beneath his feet. He stares in awe as the water rises in the harbor and then the scream of the lady in blue catches his attention.
    Initiative d20 + 3 = 5
    Athletics d20 + 6 = 10

    SkyCaptain on
    The RPG Bestiary - Dangerous foes and legendary monsters for D&D 4th Edition
  • wildwoodwildwood Registered User regular
    Aspen, already on his feet, charges into the fray.
    Initiative: d20 + 1 = 21
    Athletics: d20 + 6 = 17

  • The Muffin ManThe Muffin Man Registered User regular
    He draws his sword and shield and rushes forward, slipping in a grisly pool of Gnome, stumbling forward as the ground beneath him quakes. With a grunt, he turns to glare at his compatriots.
    "Not a word."

  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    Kaz takes the tremor standing on one hand :P, Natural 20 on Athletics + 7 = 27 Inititiative 1d20+5=24

    Seeing the tiefling in one of the serpent-thing's tentacles Kaz leaps over Traugot while finishing his drink. Dashing the empty mug and drawing his knife he yells, "Don't worry, my pious friend. I'll take care of the lady." and trots towards the beast, attempting to flank it and hoping it's more interested in Aspen.

  • jcpillarsjcpillars Registered User
    edited August 2011
    With the bread still hanging out of his mouth, he suddenly yells pointing at the giant snake thing. "Have at ye dogs! An release the ire o' yer gods!" The bread goes flying.

    "Git yerselves into the building! NOW!" Unkirk screams at the quivering on-lookers. The stray dog bolted inside as soon as the wave swelled. When the (tentacle/wave?) that would have knocked him prone struck at him, he locked his knees and brunted the attack with the stubborness of dwarves. He bangs his sword against his shield. He stared for a split-second at the prone paladin silently. He then looks back to monster.

    "Id dat de best ye got, anus mouth! Come on ye swollen earthworm, ye'll be feedin' da birds by da time wer' finished wit ya!"

    While raucously taunting the seemingly mindless beast, his large eyes scan for more threats as he carefully moving in towards the beast, banging his sword against his shield.
    Initiative: 16 http://4e.orokos.com/roll/46633 . Athletics: 26 (Natural 20!) http://4e.orokos.com/roll/46634

    jcpillars on
  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    Mazda's attention had shifted once more as the fire continued in its ritualistic display back to the elf who once more continued his story of horror and dread. Visibly aghast at some of what the man had seen over the course of his travels, he never did seem to notice the growing screams and visible agitation of the square-folk as the wave approaches. Slamming into the deck and square as it flips the ship around, the old man's chair wobbles and tips back ready to plummet him to the ground. Flailing his arms around at the sudden movement and the growing chaos of the area, suddenly the chair's fall is halted in mid-air, an unseen force keeping it upright before gently lowering it (and the man) back down into a cosy sitting position, Mazda letting out a sigh of relief.

    Standing now that everyone else is on their feet (or back), he turns having noticed the screams from behind at the pier and narrows his eyes as the robe is visible, shaking his head in disapproval. "This is not dancing," he says firmly, clutching a crystal orb in his hand.
    Athletics: 1d20=11
    Initiative: 1d20+6=16

    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • Tiger BurningTiger Burning Dig if you will, the pictureRegistered User, SolidSaints Tube regular
    Throughout the square people are fleeing as fast as they can. Fleeing the terror in the harbor, the monstrosity on the pier, an owlbear. All are in flight, except for one strange, dangerous looking group of men, who turn to face the danger.


    SouthQuay1.png


    I-20 Kaz HP: 34/34 AC: 18 F: 12 R: 17 W: 15
    G-21 Aspen HP: 45/45 AC: 19 F: 16 R: 13 W: 15
    G-23 Traugot HP: 48/48 AC: 21 F: 16 R: 14 W: 16 Prone
    I-23 Unkirk HP: 45/45 AC: 22 F: 18 R: 14 W: 15
    I-21 Mazda HP: 30/30 AC: 16 F: 14 R: 17 W: 18
    E-32 Terminus Maw HP: 164/164 AC: 21 F: 20 R: 14 W: 17
    G-22 Korren HP: 32/32 AC: 20 F: 16 R: 16 W: 15

    Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
  • AegisAegis Not Quite TorontoRegistered User regular
    edited August 2011
    This will just not do: the robes and the satchel hanging up in the air and making a godawful racket and not even any dancing! The old man thinks to himself as he immediately climbs up the table, sauntering across and hopping down in between Traugot and Korren with a quick smile as if an "Excuse Me" as he continues on into the middle of the square. "Quite ugly," he muses, looking way up as he now notices the large creature swaying back and forth in the bay with its maw and tentacles, "But I've seen uglier!" Holding his orb out in front of him, a swirling mist quickly moves in from the harbor, coalescing in front of the giant creature into what appears to be a massive troll. Wielding the trunk of a tree in one of its hands, it raises the trunk up and smashes it into the side of the Maw sending it reeling even as the foggy apparition immediately dissipates into a cloud of quickly evaporating smoke upon contact.

    Still, the foggy display seems not quite complete. Trails of fog linger around the area and the orb glows once again as the begin to form a figure nearer to the square. "Too far away, you must join us over..." the old man begins to extort to the fearsome beast, compelling it to venture forward but as the mists recede his attention is distracted. "Awwwwwwwww," he says, sighing happily as instead of a captivating she-Maw to drag the creature away from the docks, the mists have instead formed a delightful scene of children playing to which Mazda now sighs and stares at obliviously.
    Move Action: Move to F24.
    Standard Action: Phantasmal Assault (Ranged 10) against the Maw, 1d20+8=23, Hit! vs Will. Maw takes 1d8+7=10 Psychic Damage, grants Combat Advantage, & cannot make opportunity attacks until the end of my next turn. Also, blue lady is free as the Maw cannot sustain a grab while it cannot make OAs.
    Action Point (taking Bravura Presence option): Hypnotism (Ranged 10) at Maw, 1d20+8+2=11, Critical Miss!. Mazda grants combat advantage until the end of his next turn.

    F-24 Mazda HP: 30/30 AC: 16 F: 14 R: 17 W: 18 Granting CA (EONT)
    I-20 Kaz HP: 34/34 AC: 18 F: 12 R: 17 W: 15
    G-21 Aspen HP: 45/45 AC: 19 F: 16 R: 13 W: 15
    G-23 Traugot HP: 48/48 AC: 21 F: 16 R: 14 W: 16 Prone
    I-23 Unkirk HP: 45/45 AC: 22 F: 18 R: 14 W: 15
    E-32 Terminus Maw HP: 154/164 AC: 21 F: 20 R: 14 W: 17 Granting CA (EONT Mazda), Cannot Make OAs (EONT Mazda)
    G-22 Korren HP: 32/32 AC: 20 F: 16 R: 16 W: 15

    @razorwired

    Aegis on
    We'll see how long this blog lasts
    Currently DMing: None :(
    Characters
    [5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
  • RazorwiredRazorwired Registered User regular
    Weaving through the commotion of a riot was about as easy as ducking city guards after a bad pull. The changeling bobbed and weaved his way through the chaos until he could get a better look at the beast. It was a bit uglier than the sergeant he slipped away from last week, and almost as fat. Running as he slipped his hand into his belt, the Rogue slid to a halt as his hand flew out and let one of the thin blades fly. It whistled towards the creature and buries itself into the thing's hide. Kaz flashes a winning smile at the Tiefling, "You called for a dashing hero?"
    Deft Strike with a Shuriken 1d20+10=28 hit against AC, 9 damage. Moving to F28 with my movement action and Deft Strike's special movement. If I get a sneak attack from Mazda's Action(I thought I moved ahead of him, but just in case I have advantage) 1d6=2 Sacrificing 1d6 of Sneak Attack to activate Underhanded Tactics. Until the end of my next turn he takes a -2 to all attack rolls.

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