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[DnD 5E PbP] 28 Weeks Later (Game starts back up on page 9)
Posts
Sorry, busy day at work. Damn audits taking up my life. Key's all for camping, but leaving clues behind seems like a terrible idea, so she's with Slane to check out the riverbank stuff. Karnak is coming as protection, seems like. Maybe Homil and Trebor can head towards the hilltop immediately and we'll catch up?
Geth, roll 1d20 for investigation
Although actually I'm going to assume you all stay together because it's easier for me.
The stench from the ghoul corpses is pungent, but the clearing remains quiet. Picking up your investigation where you left off, you push aside the general traveling supplies to find a leather-bound journal, a small scroll case containing a rolled up map of the local area, and a pair of non-magical daggers. The smaller of the two packs is more thickly padded, and contains three potion vials and a pair of stones carved to look like talking heads.
You find the following magic items:
1x Potion of Superior Healing
1x Pair of Sending Stones
1x Potion of Heroism
1x Potion of Mind Reading
You also learn that this stuff was definitely Tharain's. But you'll need more time to find any juicy bits in his journal.
After getting the wagon loaded up, you head for the hills. You don't find any more undead on the road out of the woods. Of note is the fact that you don't hear anything either. No insects, no birds, no rustling in the bushes. Other than the noise of your wagon, the forest is dead silent.
A FEW MINUTES LATER
You reach the top of the hill without incident. Here you find a small, makeshift campsite that has been abandoned. A small fire glows weakly near a one-person tent. On one side of the tent, written in ash, are the words "Westfeld lost. Genrich still safe."
Below the hill, you can see lush farmland stretching out beneath a dense, hanging fog. A light breeze carries flakes of white powder, like snow, up over the crest of the hill. The area around you is quiet, for now.
Geth, roll 1d20+1 for Perception of anything peculiar or out of place in the distant farmland such as large bloodstains, abnormal crop circles, or suspicious livestock.
Trebor sets to work combing over the campsite, mentally snatching up whatever details and senses available while putting the rest of the world around him at the corner of his mind like the nearby fog. After concluding his investigation or hitting a brick wall he turns his attention out over the valley, taking in that aforementioned commanding view. Though the world slipped toward chaos and darkness Trebor appreciated the cool breeze and melancholy skies.
The fog makes it difficult to pick out much in the land below. It's a crop farm, and a pretty large one at that. You can just make out the outline of a farmhouse, grain silo, and barn in the distance. You don't see any signs of unlife (or life for that matter).
Key, it's neither. You probably wouldn't recognize it if it weren't for that one ritual you had to do that one time, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) you do know what this is. The flakes floating gently on the breeze are flakes of bone.
Homil surveyed the landscape, trying to make out any details through the fog. The silence of the wood unnerved him: with the ghouls dead, something should have come out, even if it was just an incautious squirrel or jaybird. There was more than undead happening here. He made a quick search of the top of the ridge, looking for any creature that might have seen anything.
I'd like to make an Investigate or Survival check to see if I can find any sort of small animal. My Survival is +4 and Investigate is +1. If I can, I'd like to use my speak with animals ritual to ask it if it saw Tharain or the ghouls, or if it knows about anything weird happening. Given the bonesnow, though, I have a feeling I won't find much...
Geth, roll 1d20+4 for Survival/Investigate
"This is bone, carried on the wind. Someone is working wicked wizardry, but why? Perhaps the journal has something?"
Oof. This is looking like one hell of a grim situation, no bones about it. Nothing humerus about our circumstances. We won't be mistaken for spineless fools, though. All in or bust!
Geth, roll 1d20 for Arcana on possible rituals that could use that much bone. Not expecting much.
Geth, roll 1d20+5 for Arcana Check.
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
This is evil magic. Some corrupted soul was on that boat, but getting to the docks is too dangerous. The whole of Anbury is covered in a vile fog. A fog made of bone! I need to find the source but I can't get past the ghouls. They're everywhere. Everyone. They never sleep or rest. They never tire. They eat and eat and never get their fill. Soon there will be nothing left alive here.
And another entry, a few days later:
I managed to find an old house from which I can see the docks. The position is defensible, but I lack the supplies to make it truly safe. I am out of my depth here. I need to get a message to the order, but whatever foul sorcery has befallen this town seems to be interfering with my own magic.
Without living flesh to feast on, the stronger ghouls have started to prey on the weaker ones. They have begun to flee the town. There's a division here. The strong ones are smarter. More organized. I think they have a leader. The weaker ones are like animals.
I saw the light again on that boat. I know the source is there but I can't do this by myself. I need to get help. I need to get out.
Key tossed the journal to Trebor, exuding unshakeable confidence as she walked to the edge of the camp, looking off towards the fog-clouded town.
Ah, Leolan, my love, you would weep to see this. I can make sure you never have to.
"Unless one of you can provide a reason to not burn this hellish pit of necromancy to the ground?"
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Heading out at night seems pretty foolish, I'm ready to set camp and head out in the morning, unless Denada wants to throw anything else at us.
At Trebor's suggestion, the five of you make camp slightly below the top of the hill. You don't see any signs of activity from the forest, nor do you see anything going on in the farm below the hill.
Being seasoned adventurers, you establish a watch rotation for the night and don't have any trouble staying alert; it's actually quite difficult to fall asleep. The breeze never really lets up, and there's a thick tension in the air that makes all of you feel like ... well, like prey. Even with people on watch, every sound, every shift in the wind, starts you awake as though a creature was about to pounce.
THE NEXT MORNING
There was some rest to be had through the night, since none of the night's fears ever bore fruit, but that rest was hardly effective. The morning is pale and grey. A sea of grey fog stretches below the hill, thick and heavy under a cold, distant sun. Where will you go now?
So your rest sucked. You recover half the amount of hit points you normally would from taking a long rest. You still recover all your Hit Dice.
Those of you with expended spell slots or other long rest resources need to make a Will or Constitution save (your choice), DC 12, to recover those slots/resources. If you fail the save you recover one fewer slot than you normally would. If this means you don't recover any expended Things, that sucks for you. Make just one save for everything, if you have multiple Things.
But hey, nothing tried to eat you, so you've got that going for you. Where to now folks?
Over a light breakfast of fruit shared with Brylana, she spoke.
"We move on Anbury today. Whatever the source of this fog, my clothes will be ruined by it, and others will suffer worse."
Geth roll 1d20+1 con for recovery
"Do you notice that, Trebor?" said Homil. "That feeling? Something is stalking us." If Trebor noticed it, it wasn't just a bad dream troubling him, and if it wasn't just a bad dream, Homil could probably kill it. But if Trebor didn't notice it... well. Homil didn't consider what that would mean.
I don't remember if rage recharges on a long or short rest, but just in case here's a save to get that one use back.
Geth, roll 1d20+5 for Constitution save to recover a rage
"He of the Unsleeping Eyes watched over us in the darkness; God of Guardians, watch over us this day. Let us pay homage to The Vigilant One, and keep watchful for all the evils that plague this land. Should we stumble across any that would prey upon the weak, exploit the needy, or corrupt the pure, Doombringer guide our hands."
The paladin dressed, simple clothing under heavy armor. Last, he pulled on a tabard emblazoned with a black-gloved hand holding a two-faced head.
"Lord of Three Thunders be with us this day, as we march to war against those that would kill a town."
Geth, roll 1d20+4 for Will (Wisdom?) Save vs DC 12
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
I didn't use any long rest features or spells, but I don't want to be left out.
Trebor shrugged slowly as he worked down his filling but unpleasant piece of hardtack. "I expect that we have been under observation for sum time, but I've no way of knowing what malign intellect is behind it. I have no interest in bravado, but that observer must know we are a threat to them." Truthfully, while Trebor could be intensely focused on observation once he set himself on the task he usually wasn't the first to notice factors hovering outside of his gaze. As a young militiaman the skill had allowed him to find enemies hidden far away but lose sight of his own people.
Rages are indeed a long rest thing.
He shuddered at the thought, and quickly found himself tugging on his gloves, trying to tighten them around his hands. There was a sense of comfort in it. Purpose.
"We have to decide on a route into town. Whilst dawn has broken, if the infestation runs deep, it might not be enough to keep the undead at bay, my friends."
His mind began racing, working over every detail he remembered about Anbury. The layout, the geography and so on. Which route would be the most suitable one, if they were to reach the harbor in the safest way, or the quickest if that became necessary.
Geth, roll 1d20+3 for wisdom save!
Geth, roll 2#1d20+6 for remembering good routes!
Let's try that again!
Geth, roll 2#1d20+6 for remembering good routes!
There are a few ways to get to Anbury. Following the road is the easiest route, though it's the most exposed. Another option is to cut through the fields. Most of these farms are growing grain, which is about as tall as an average human man at this point in the season. Neither option is completely safe. The road is faster, but there's no cover. The fields offer some cover, but moving through the crops will slow you down and you could get lost. In either case, taking the wagon into Anbury is probably not a good idea. You'll need to find somewhere safe for it until you're done.
"It would be folly to unmask ourselves in clear lines of communication if we have alternatives. Though, if we have already been observed without our knowledge then it would be assumed we would sneak into town by any means and as such I'd expect the farm to hold an ambushing force. Either way we are vulnerable, but at least if we are attacked at the farm we will still be concealed from the town. Whatever we choose we will likely do so on foot, which leaves what to do with the wagon."
Trebor begins drawing traces of the town perimeter, farm land, and foothills in the dirt and ash as he plots the decision tree.
Sorry about the sparse updates of late. I've been super busy at work and at home. But things are about to start moving again, for sure.
If you're making any preparations before heading into town, go ahead and do so. Otherwise I'll post again later when Something Happens.
Apologies for the absence, work is keeping me super busy.
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
After saying goodbye to Brylana and leaving the wagon in her care, the five of you head down the road to Anbury. The gentle breeze that was ever-present on the ridge dies out as you descend the hill, leaving you to walk through the thick bone-fog in silence. A fine white dust covers everything down here in the farmland, making the landscape look almost wintry. That dust quickly begins to cling to you as well, since there's no breeze to blow it away.
The sun feels very far away as you proceed down the quiet, dusty road, its rays giving you meager light and no warmth. The fields of grain stand tall and still on either side of you, with nothing more than the occasional vulture passing lazily overhead. You can't shake the feeling that you're being watched, but nothing causes the grain stalks to stir.
You catch your first glimpse of Anbury a few hours later. The road leading into the city is just as abandoned and desolate as the one you've been walking on. A few scattered buildings rest outside the walls of the city. The walls of the closest building, which appears to have once been a stable, are splattered with old blood. The door of the main entrance lies on the ground, covered in a thick layer of white dust. It has clearly been torn from its hinges. The other buildings that you can see from here are in a similar condition.
Disgusting. What, who, could have caused this?
As they approached the outskirts of the city, ruined buildings clearly the sight of death and destruction, she looked to the others.
"Should we search the ruins? Or push forward to the centre of this madness?"