It’s not from the campfire, you’re pretty sure. That was almost out when you’d gone to bed. No, it’s a little heavier than that, more pungent, but not invasive like a city or forest burning. It’s hard to describe, especially for someone just emerging from sleep. You can see it as you roll out of your sleeping bag; it crawls along the ground as a light haze, pulled down by the falling of the morning dew that clings to everything, soaks everything.
There’s only one sound; the cawing of crows. A look around reveals them in their dozens. They’re hopping along the city walls and battlements, and two are flying in and out of a murderhole near the portcullis with straw like they’re building a nest. It is that time of year, you know. Some late spring daffodils are still holding on to dear life on the outskirts of the Vagrant Camp outside Westmarch’s south gate. Still, you can pity the birds for a moment. When the guards find the nest they’ll surely clear it out.
A handful of vultures circle above the crows. There’s three. No, four. One dips behind the city walls while you watch and doesn’t return. It’s only now that you really become acutely aware of how quiet it is. The sun is already up over the tops of the trees and there is nothing stirring. The farms around you are quiet; no roosters crowing or cows mooing. The sounds of laughing children aren’t rolling over the tops of the walls and there is no ping of hammer and anvil in the distance. No bells ringing. No merchants calling. Just the cawing of myriad miscreant crows.
Examination of the walls reveals something more troubling. The gate is still down, and the guards standing watch don’t seem to be in any hurry to hoist them up. They stand vigilant, their eyes watching out over the northern lands. They are undaunted.
The other’s are waking now, waking from their rest and their dreams and they, too, are starting to realize that something is off about the Vagrant Camp and the surrounding farms and the cloying smoke…
One of the black birds will fly towards a sleeping bag which is still occupied. The creature lands on the surface, then moves near the place where the head of the person rests motionless. The raven croaks and pecks at the covered head, the woman sleeping inside steers and murmurs something unintelligible:
Percy stretches his limbs as much as is possible underneath the heavy armor he slept in. looking out across the field towards the woods, his skin shutters under his fur.
Wow a warm bed would be nicer than this, he thought eyeing the gates while imagining a comfier bed within.
Standing up, weight supported on his Glaive, Purr turned to the others and broke the morning silence: “anyof you wanna join me for a stroll around the city wall before grabbing a bite?”
Amakiir snapped out of his doze as the smell of smoke hit his nostrils. It was... Unfamiliar. Yet not abjectly horrible. He got up, probably more awake than his companions. He was always a light sleeper, thanks to his elven ancestry. He picked up his Fochlucan Bandore, returning it to it's holster on his back. His flute jingled on his side as he did. He began to scan the area, looking for something amiss. Aside from the eerie quiet
Wellis awakes to the smell of the smoke, causing him to cough as he opens his eyes. emerging from his sleeping bag, he feels quite uneasy in the silence, so he grabs his dulcimer, lays it on his lap, and begins plucking out a simple tune. He hums a melody and tries to find some lyrics, singing quietly to himself.
"Awake to the dew, and smoke on the ground, apart from the crows, there is nary a sound, watchful guards, of a silent town, stripped of it's life, like a king with no crown..."
He hears Percy's offer. "Sure I'll join ya." He stands up and puts away his dulcimer, then grabs his rapier just to be safe, ready to set off with Percy for a quick walk.
Wyn exits his reverie, refreshed, but dismayed by his surroundings. He finds this encampment to be a bit sad. Nothing like the elven villages. He finds the trance like state of the guards to be odd. He wonders what has befallen this place. He sees that Percy and Wellis are off to explore. While Wyn does not particularly need the companionship of others, the opportunity to figure out why this place is so peculiar entices him. "I'll come with as well!"
In one of the smaller sleeping rolls you see Lignum curled up with a book stuck on his face. There all loose paper all around him, probably more research notes that he was working on in the night. The smell of smoke awakens Lignum with quite a concerned look on his face. He overlooks the city, wondering what could possibly be the source of the smoke. Once he hears Percy talking about leaving the camp Lignum says Maybe we should ask the guards what’s with the smoke along the way. Lignum then gathers all his papers and puts them in his bag. He studies the facial expressions of the guards from the camp, wondering if there is any source of magical enchantment to explain their strange behaviour. (Can I roll a arcana check to see if there is any magical effects on the guards?)
Iseminstra fumbles with the zipper/strings of the sleeping bag and decides to crawl out of the narrow space. She picks up a leather-bound tome with ornate crystals and a carefully preserved glowing orb hastily. She's not fully awake yet, but she doesn't want to waste time and haphazardly prepares for the day's work.
The on-going conversation and bird calls draw her attention, and she suspects that there's something wrong with her surrounding. She remains silent while covering herself with a robe as if she's been attempting to hide the premature strings of gray hair. Finally, she starts ritual casting Detect Magic as a precaution...using her magical orb like a spellcasting focus and drawing invisible marks.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Percy purred a bit, a subtle vibration through his blood and bones brought warmth in the morning chill.
It was good to find a band of minstrels and mages to have his back… he felt it allowed him to tap into his feline intuitions and act without worry, assuming there would be a spell or song to solve whatever he got them into.
seeing two of the group equally ready for movement, he turned toward tue front gate and starting walking, twirling the staff of his glaive like a toothpick in one hand while waving like a dumbcat with the other towards the guards.
“Morning boys! Which one of you produced that awful stench?” Percy yelled while making the stinky smell motion under his nose. Something was off, whichwas making the fur on his neck stand up, and awakening his instinctual perceptiveness 14
"Wait! There's something magical behind those walls. These guards are not affected, but it might be harmful."
Verakova appears beside the feline companion (Percy) and grabs the outer layer of his sleeves to prevent him from going forward. She is staring at the walls with a blank expression... the dark part of her eyes turned into glowing white orbs that resembles the magical orb.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As he got closer to the gates, Percy realized the guards he had thought he was joking with were in fact stationary dummies.
Just then he heard Veronica’s warning of magic as she tried to grab where a sleeve would have been, grabbing a tuft of his fur instead. He enjoyed being naked under his armor, so he could go native at a moment’s notice: as naked as someone covered in fire could be.
suspecting it all an illusion was Percy’s first instinct, for he knew the pains of assumptions breaking and starting anew… he reached down to grab 2 pebbles. 1 he aimed at the dummy’s forehead dexterously, the other he threw athletically at the city wall itself.
Lignum approaches with Percy, taking a look at the dummies. He has a look of confusion, as this was not what he was expecting. He turns to the others and says Well someone is having a laugh with us. Why would they go through the effort of setting this up? Also where are the real guards?We better go in the city, I got a bad feeling about this place. Lignum then starts to head inside the city, walking past the dummies. He is aiming to go to the statue on the map. As he is doing so he is looking out for any people in the city, worrying that something sinister is going on.
As the others inspect the gate, Wyn strides over to Honeywallow, moving so effortlessly that one could be confused into thinking he was not even touching the ground at all. Wyn takes a look around to see if there is anyone, or anything, about that can provide explanation for this sleeping city.
Wellis follows Percy and the others inspecting the wall and guards, but hangs back a little bit. He's still relatively unfamiliar with magic, and defers to the others as they inspect the gate and the guards.
Verakova observes the activities of her companions with amusement. But the cawing noise reminds her of the murderhole near the portcullis. She immediately attempts to use the sense of her raven familiar to inspect the hole and commands him to fly towards it to search for anything peculiar.
The first of Percy's pebbles hit the empty helm adorning the top of the dummy on the left and resounded with a reverberating bong before the helmet tilted and toppled from the head of the manikin, disappearing behind the wall of Westmarch. There was a loud, metallic clang as it hit the ground on the other side of the wall.
Something garbled in the distance in response.
The second pebble popped against the wall and bounced off. It was obvious that the wall was as solid as ever and didn't seem to have anything funny going on with it.
Lignum is suddenly acutely aware that there is nothing magical about or on these dummies. His cursory glance of the landscape around them and the Vagrant Camp reveals nothing. There is no one outside the six or seven people who slept in the Vagrant Camp last night waiting for the gates top open. Either because of his focus on the guards or his search of the landscape as he goes, he fails to notice that the gate and portcullis of the city are slammed shut. He cannot enter without finding a way either through or by going over the wall.
Honeywallow is silent. There are no cows, no chickens, no pigs or sheep, and definitely not people. Aside from footprints leading toward the south gate of the walled city, there are no immediately obvious clues to the nature of what happened.
The murderhole seems unremarkable...at first. It leads into a room, approximately eight feet wide and twenty feet long, with stacks of bows, arrows, oil barrels, and assorted martial goods like swords, armor, and racks of torches. Long, wisping cobwebs hang in the corners and stretch from floor to ceiling, wall to floor, wall to wall; they're everywhere. The crows that had been seen going in and out of the hole earlier have made a nest in the corner, but something is moving in the darkened corner of the room.
It's a spider. A big, ugly, spider, roughly the size of a large cat. One of the crows was in its pedipalps as it started eating, obviously caught in the last few minutes.
Once Lignum realises that the gates are locked, he will turn to the others and say Well this is locked. Looks like we will have to climb up. He will also notice Verakova Raven familiar and say Oh that’s a cute pet. I didn’t know you had a bird. What is his name? After he hears the response he will climb up the stones on the walls of the city, using stones that are slightly sticking out for gripping points along the way.
Athletics for climbing wall: 6
He doesn’t manage to climb up the wall. He dusts himself off, trying not to look to pathetic and then will try and find a section on wall that is easier to climb.
“Not an Illusion,” he turns to tell his comrade in that ‘stating the obvious’ kind of way. Percy takes a second to think out the situation and the facts:
-Mannequins for guards,
-gargling noise in the distance,
-gates closed,
-a blanket of burning or smoldering stench.
“Do we want to stick together and make a plan? Anyone without armor can stay behind me if need be! Seems to me we should stay outside the wall and gather more information with a trip around, or go over and up as a group.”
Percy takes some rope, pitons and a small hammer out of his sack and places them on the floor clearly for others to see and use if needed, then extends his claws and readies an action to sprint climb up the wall if anyone tries to rush up the wall and is half successful. his competitive feline spirit wouldn’t want to not be the first up the way…
Dawn
The air smells like smoke.
It’s not from the campfire, you’re pretty sure. That was almost out when you’d gone to bed. No, it’s a little heavier than that, more pungent, but not invasive like a city or forest burning. It’s hard to describe, especially for someone just emerging from sleep. You can see it as you roll out of your sleeping bag; it crawls along the ground as a light haze, pulled down by the falling of the morning dew that clings to everything, soaks everything.
There’s only one sound; the cawing of crows. A look around reveals them in their dozens. They’re hopping along the city walls and battlements, and two are flying in and out of a murderhole near the portcullis with straw like they’re building a nest. It is that time of year, you know. Some late spring daffodils are still holding on to dear life on the outskirts of the Vagrant Camp outside Westmarch’s south gate. Still, you can pity the birds for a moment. When the guards find the nest they’ll surely clear it out.
A handful of vultures circle above the crows. There’s three. No, four. One dips behind the city walls while you watch and doesn’t return. It’s only now that you really become acutely aware of how quiet it is. The sun is already up over the tops of the trees and there is nothing stirring. The farms around you are quiet; no roosters crowing or cows mooing. The sounds of laughing children aren’t rolling over the tops of the walls and there is no ping of hammer and anvil in the distance. No bells ringing. No merchants calling. Just the cawing of myriad miscreant crows.
Examination of the walls reveals something more troubling. The gate is still down, and the guards standing watch don’t seem to be in any hurry to hoist them up. They stand vigilant, their eyes watching out over the northern lands. They are undaunted.
The other’s are waking now, waking from their rest and their dreams and they, too, are starting to realize that something is off about the Vagrant Camp and the surrounding farms and the cloying smoke…
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Dang your a great writer
One of the black birds will fly towards a sleeping bag which is still occupied. The creature lands on the surface, then moves near the place where the head of the person rests motionless. The raven croaks and pecks at the covered head, the woman sleeping inside steers and murmurs something unintelligible:
"...mmemme..sleep.."
InkedBee (Undead_Analyst)
Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts - Jenviel Tsumara: Fallen Aasimar- Monk|Crimson Sands of Time - Navarra Iltazyara: Human- Druid/Warlock| Bleak Prospect - Ermasnietsz: Reborn- Clockwork Soul Sorcerer
Percy stretches his limbs as much as is possible underneath the heavy armor he slept in. looking out across the field towards the woods, his skin shutters under his fur.
Wow a warm bed would be nicer than this, he thought eyeing the gates while imagining a comfier bed within.
Standing up, weight supported on his Glaive, Purr turned to the others and broke the morning silence: “any of you wanna join me for a stroll around the city wall before grabbing a bite?”
Amakiir snapped out of his doze as the smell of smoke hit his nostrils. It was... Unfamiliar. Yet not abjectly horrible. He got up, probably more awake than his companions. He was always a light sleeper, thanks to his elven ancestry. He picked up his Fochlucan Bandore, returning it to it's holster on his back. His flute jingled on his side as he did. He began to scan the area, looking for something amiss. Aside from the eerie quiet
Perception?
Wellis awakes to the smell of the smoke, causing him to cough as he opens his eyes. emerging from his sleeping bag, he feels quite uneasy in the silence, so he grabs his dulcimer, lays it on his lap, and begins plucking out a simple tune. He hums a melody and tries to find some lyrics, singing quietly to himself.
"Awake to the dew, and smoke on the ground, apart from the crows, there is nary a sound, watchful guards, of a silent town, stripped of it's life, like a king with no crown..."
He hears Percy's offer. "Sure I'll join ya." He stands up and puts away his dulcimer, then grabs his rapier just to be safe, ready to set off with Percy for a quick walk.
Wyn exits his reverie, refreshed, but dismayed by his surroundings. He finds this encampment to be a bit sad. Nothing like the elven villages. He finds the trance like state of the guards to be odd. He wonders what has befallen this place. He sees that Percy and Wellis are off to explore. While Wyn does not particularly need the companionship of others, the opportunity to figure out why this place is so peculiar entices him. "I'll come with as well!"
In one of the smaller sleeping rolls you see Lignum curled up with a book stuck on his face. There all loose paper all around him, probably more research notes that he was working on in the night. The smell of smoke awakens Lignum with quite a concerned look on his face. He overlooks the city, wondering what could possibly be the source of the smoke. Once he hears Percy talking about leaving the camp Lignum says Maybe we should ask the guards what’s with the smoke along the way. Lignum then gathers all his papers and puts them in his bag. He studies the facial expressions of the guards from the camp, wondering if there is any source of magical enchantment to explain their strange behaviour. (Can I roll a arcana check to see if there is any magical effects on the guards?)
Iseminstra fumbles with the zipper/strings of the sleeping bag and decides to crawl out of the narrow space. She picks up a leather-bound tome with ornate crystals and a carefully preserved glowing orb hastily. She's not fully awake yet, but she doesn't want to waste time and haphazardly prepares for the day's work.
The on-going conversation and bird calls draw her attention, and she suspects that there's something wrong with her surrounding. She remains silent while covering herself with a robe as if she's been attempting to hide the premature strings of gray hair. Finally, she starts ritual casting Detect Magic as a precaution...using her magical orb like a spellcasting focus and drawing invisible marks.
"Sal kerradun lor!"
InkedBee (Undead_Analyst)
Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts - Jenviel Tsumara: Fallen Aasimar- Monk|Crimson Sands of Time - Navarra Iltazyara: Human- Druid/Warlock| Bleak Prospect - Ermasnietsz: Reborn- Clockwork Soul Sorcerer
Percy purred a bit, a subtle vibration through his blood and bones brought warmth in the morning chill.
It was good to find a band of minstrels and mages to have his back… he felt it allowed him to tap into his feline intuitions and act without worry, assuming there would be a spell or song to solve whatever he got them into.
seeing two of the group equally ready for movement, he turned toward tue front gate and starting walking, twirling the staff of his glaive like a toothpick in one hand while waving like a dumbcat with the other towards the guards.
“Morning boys! Which one of you produced that awful stench?” Percy yelled while making the stinky smell motion under his nose. Something was off, which was making the fur on his neck stand up, and awakening his instinctual perceptiveness 14
"Wait! There's something magical behind those walls. These guards are not affected, but it might be harmful."
Verakova appears beside the feline companion (Percy) and grabs the outer layer of his sleeves to prevent him from going forward. She is staring at the walls with a blank expression... the dark part of her eyes turned into glowing white orbs that resembles the magical orb.
InkedBee (Undead_Analyst)
Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts - Jenviel Tsumara: Fallen Aasimar- Monk|Crimson Sands of Time - Navarra Iltazyara: Human- Druid/Warlock| Bleak Prospect - Ermasnietsz: Reborn- Clockwork Soul Sorcerer
As he got closer to the gates, Percy realized the guards he had thought he was joking with were in fact stationary dummies.
Just then he heard Veronica’s warning of magic as she tried to grab where a sleeve would have been, grabbing a tuft of his fur instead. He enjoyed being naked under his armor, so he could go native at a moment’s notice: as naked as someone covered in fire could be.
suspecting it all an illusion was Percy’s first instinct, for he knew the pains of assumptions breaking and starting anew… he reached down to grab 2 pebbles. 1 he aimed at the dummy’s forehead dexterously, the other he threw athletically at the city wall itself.
19 towards guard
26 towards wall
Lignum approaches with Percy, taking a look at the dummies. He has a look of confusion, as this was not what he was expecting. He turns to the others and says Well someone is having a laugh with us. Why would they go through the effort of setting this up? Also where are the real guards? We better go in the city, I got a bad feeling about this place. Lignum then starts to head inside the city, walking past the dummies. He is aiming to go to the statue on the map. As he is doing so he is looking out for any people in the city, worrying that something sinister is going on.
Perception for finding people: 10
Arcana check from last post: 17
As the others inspect the gate, Wyn strides over to Honeywallow, moving so effortlessly that one could be confused into thinking he was not even touching the ground at all. Wyn takes a look around to see if there is anyone, or anything, about that can provide explanation for this sleeping city.
Perception: 18
Wellis follows Percy and the others inspecting the wall and guards, but hangs back a little bit. He's still relatively unfamiliar with magic, and defers to the others as they inspect the gate and the guards.
Verakova observes the activities of her companions with amusement. But the cawing noise reminds her of the murderhole near the portcullis. She immediately attempts to use the sense of her raven familiar to inspect the hole and commands him to fly towards it to search for anything peculiar.
Raven
InkedBee (Undead_Analyst)
Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts - Jenviel Tsumara: Fallen Aasimar- Monk|Crimson Sands of Time - Navarra Iltazyara: Human- Druid/Warlock| Bleak Prospect - Ermasnietsz: Reborn- Clockwork Soul Sorcerer
The first of Percy's pebbles hit the empty helm adorning the top of the dummy on the left and resounded with a reverberating bong before the helmet tilted and toppled from the head of the manikin, disappearing behind the wall of Westmarch. There was a loud, metallic clang as it hit the ground on the other side of the wall.
Something garbled in the distance in response.
The second pebble popped against the wall and bounced off. It was obvious that the wall was as solid as ever and didn't seem to have anything funny going on with it.
Lignum is suddenly acutely aware that there is nothing magical about or on these dummies. His cursory glance of the landscape around them and the Vagrant Camp reveals nothing. There is no one outside the six or seven people who slept in the Vagrant Camp last night waiting for the gates top open. Either because of his focus on the guards or his search of the landscape as he goes, he fails to notice that the gate and portcullis of the city are slammed shut. He cannot enter without finding a way either through or by going over the wall.
Honeywallow is silent. There are no cows, no chickens, no pigs or sheep, and definitely not people. Aside from footprints leading toward the south gate of the walled city, there are no immediately obvious clues to the nature of what happened.
The murderhole seems unremarkable...at first. It leads into a room, approximately eight feet wide and twenty feet long, with stacks of bows, arrows, oil barrels, and assorted martial goods like swords, armor, and racks of torches. Long, wisping cobwebs hang in the corners and stretch from floor to ceiling, wall to floor, wall to wall; they're everywhere. The crows that had been seen going in and out of the hole earlier have made a nest in the corner, but something is moving in the darkened corner of the room.
It's a spider. A big, ugly, spider, roughly the size of a large cat. One of the crows was in its pedipalps as it started eating, obviously caught in the last few minutes.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Once Lignum realises that the gates are locked, he will turn to the others and say Well this is locked. Looks like we will have to climb up. He will also notice Verakova Raven familiar and say Oh that’s a cute pet. I didn’t know you had a bird. What is his name? After he hears the response he will climb up the stones on the walls of the city, using stones that are slightly sticking out for gripping points along the way.
Athletics for climbing wall: 6
He doesn’t manage to climb up the wall. He dusts himself off, trying not to look to pathetic and then will try and find a section on wall that is easier to climb.
Investigation: 9
“Not an Illusion,” he turns to tell his comrade in that ‘stating the obvious’ kind of way. Percy takes a second to think out the situation and the facts:
-Mannequins for guards,
-gargling noise in the distance,
-gates closed,
-a blanket of burning or smoldering stench.
“Do we want to stick together and make a plan? Anyone without armor can stay behind me if need be! Seems to me we should stay outside the wall and gather more information with a trip around, or go over and up as a group.”
Percy takes some rope, pitons and a small hammer out of his sack and places them on the floor clearly for others to see and use if needed, then extends his claws and readies an action to sprint climb up the wall if anyone tries to rush up the wall and is half successful. his competitive feline spirit wouldn’t want to not be the first up the way…