After several days traveling East, you have at last left the dusty, unnamed trail passing beneath the shadows of the Wyrmsmoke mountains. The copper hues of reflected light on the mountaintops and the grey-green of leafy trees on either side of the trail were scenic, if a little foreboding. During the warm nights of late spring, when the moon brightly shone above you like the goddess' smile, you occasionally heard odd shouts and calls, echoing from high peaks, though by dawn the sun rose to a quiet stillness all around. On recent nights, strange dreams of fire and blood poisoned your rest, and having already come so far, from false clerics to surly dwarves, you are all eager for a place to rest - a good inn, a night in a bed, and the promise of finding Vraath keep at last!
The afternoon sun beats down on you; the air is hot and still. The sparsely settled lands of Elsir Vale are starting to grow monotonous, with a rolling hills and cultured fields to either side of the road for as far as the eye can see. The town of Drellin's Ferry lies a few miles ahead of you. It's a settlement hard on the borders of the Witchwood, and the best place from which to begin exploring the nearby forest, wherein lies, you understand, Vraath Keep. No one is quite sure exactly where it is, as it has long been abandoned, but you feel sure that some of the locals will be able to give you some clearer directions...
A little ways ahead of you, the road sidles its way deeper into the valley, passing into a pleasant-looking copse of trees that you can faintly hear rustling in the cool, crisp wind. You've made good time, today, and should be at Drellin's Ferry in time for a late lunch.
Mae took a pause after the 178th verse of "Gallaghar the love sick Goliath" probably much to everyone's relief, and noted the distance they had traveled so far and pointing down the road a ways. "Not bad today eh! But I think I am not the only one ready to find some refreshment and a better place to rest for the night. Just a bit further I believe and we should be arriving at Drellin's Ferry. Let's hope the people there are still welcoming to travelers and have some suggestion or insight into this keep. I don't really want to wander the Witchwood aimlessly if at all possible." Mae was about to start up her song again, but thought better of it and stowed her instruments for the time being. After all, there were exactly 311 verses to the ballad which was really a lot, even for a goliath.
"Yes, I agree Maevla, we are in no hurry, let us stay and rest at Drellin's Ferry."Valeria says warmly as she rides her chestnut steed alongside Mae with a graceful and almost regal bearing, enjoying the lovely scenery of the valley below them, her long blonde hair in intricate braids, her face pale with delicate features and a calm warm smile on her thin lips. She's wearing an exquisite magenta shirt with silver embroideries, linen pants and high soft brown leather boots with small white feathered wings at their sides. Hanging from her neck is a silver amulet engraved with a pair of mysterious eyes surrounded by seven small stars.
Val didn't mind hearing any of Mae's many verses of "Gallaghar the love sick Goliath" as the young bard was a perfect company to keep, raising spirits on their long and often arduous journey. It was hard to imagine that they were finally here at Elsir Vale, and now Val feared her companions were soon to leave. They had been through a lot of adventures together already and soon that might come to an end with Iravon and Mae going on the road again. She still had some hopes Kiersa would stay with her until she settled in at her keep. Although Kiersa had alway been her closest friend she had quickly grown to like Mae, and even the loyal and trustworthy Iravon had found a place in her heart. There were still a keep to be found and cleared out though from whatever creatures had decided to make it a home since the place had been abandoned so many years ago.
"Ah! You can't just stop there, Mae! I have to know if maybe next time things work out for poor Gallaghar!" Kiersa protests as she rides along a few paces behind Valeria and Mae. Strands of her shoulder length blonde hair fall into her face, covering her light blue eyes. She brushes the strand away as she watches the pair riding ahead of her. Her own horse, trotting along easily at the pace the group has set, has a brown and white pinto coloration. To most, her appearance was not the most impressive. But Kiersa felt that this was the best of all the horses the group had acquired, in both temperament and physical ability. She had named her Tifaceli - a gnomish name she recalled from some children's tale she 'd half forgotten.
With the hot afternoon sun, she started to pull off the grey, cowled scarf she kept about her shoulders. Kiersa felt that the gray scarf with small white dots accented perfectly with the light tank cloak she wore over her chain mail armor. From scarf, to cloak, leather pants, and sturdy boots, everything is of fine quality if not overly ornate. But at this moment, the scarf was simply too warm.
"Which one is Drellin's ferry? Did you say It's right by the Witchwood? It would be nice to get out of the sun and enjoy a proper meal," she adds.
Iravon rode silently, watching the road, the forest, the hilltops. Watching for signs of movement. He sighed gently with relief as the song ended, but made no comment. Expressing that relief might provoke confrontation, but expressing any kind of appreciation for the song out of politeness might encourage her to start again. So he said nothing.
His mount also padded silently alongside the horses. When Bargrivyek had first granted Iravon the power to summon a steed from beyond the Material Plane, he had not known what form it would take, but was unsurprised, even pleased, when a worg had bounded out of thin air. The horses of the others had almost bolted at first, but quickly scented that this was no true worg, but a fey spirit taking worg form. He had named it Dargrath, Great Slayer. The horses still seemed a little unsure of Dargrath, but the worg spirit was entirely under Iravon's control, and an uneasy compromise had formed between the animals.
A bead of sweat ran down Iravon's red face into his thick muttonchops. It was hot under the padding and chainmail, but his training meant that he showed no outward sign of discomfort. He had to be prepared for combat at all times. A shield hung from his back, and his holy flail from his hip, its heavy head dipped in white paint, now stained with blood.
His left hand and forearm ached. It was still blackened and twisted from their encounter with that damn necromancer. They had asked at every town on their route, but nowhere had a cleric talented enough to cure this blight. Its progress had been slowed, but Iravon imagined that he could feel it creeping up his arm, like the tendrils of some black creature, reaching upwards for his heart. There was no honour in a death like that. Before that happened he would take himself away back into the Wyrmsmokes to challenge whichever tribe he came upon first. He would not survive, but he would die a glorious death, and his ashes would be scattered on his home soil. In the meantime he clung to hope, and the promise of the next town, and the next.
At Kiersa's mention of food, Iravon's stomach rumbled. He hadn't realised how hungry he was. He spoke up for the first time in at least an hour. "A meal would be good. It would be a shame to die of hunger so close to our destination."
The road crests a small rise and descends into a dusty grove in a shallow dell. An abandoned farmhouse, partially visible through the trees, stands on one side of the road. You've passed a dozen spots much like this one already today, but this one feels wrong. Iravon, ever watchful, please make a perception check! Someone else in the party may Help to give advantage.
"Iravon, be watchful."Valeria says quickly to the hobgoblin mercenary riding his worg steed ahead of the others. She feels something is off with the farmhouse ahead, scanning the building for a possible ambush, wary of an attack now. (Help action given)
Particularly watchful does not well describe Iravon at the moment, but his attention is suddenly anchored by the side of the road when the unmistakable glint of chain mail catches the light, and the telltale draw of a taught bowstring creaks across the road like the cry of some summer insect. Through the brush on the side of the road, you see them - fierce warriors - tall, hairy humanoids with wide mouths and flat faces - are lying in wait!
Combat incoming - take a pre-combat action as you see fit (not an attack) and then roll initiative!
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Kiersa notes Iravon's attention suddenly being drawn to the side of the road. She slows her mount just a bit, suddenly alert for danger. (Initiative: 4)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Iravon's yellow eyes focus on the scrub and trees by the farmhouse. His hackles raise, something is off. Then a flicker of reflected light, the creak of a bowstring, he knows these sounds all too well. As the attackers that are waiting for them become visible, he growls out to the group "Ambush! Ready your weapons!" and takes his own flail in hand.
(DM, does Iravon recognise what the attackers are? Sounds like bugbears to me...)
If he identifies them as such, he will shout out in Goblin "Let us pass, or you will not see another sunrise!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
At Iravon's warning Valeria quickly uses her divine magic to create a protective magical force surrounding herself (Mage Armor) before using her winged boots to fly off to cover, if posssible, from any arrows from the side of the road.
Mae was about to take up her long winded ballad when the shout arose from the group and they came to a stop. With a quick strum and short hum she rolled off her horse opposite the attackers and disappeared (casting invisibility using her bandore, 1 charge).
A chilling scream in goblin rings back at you Iravon!
"Perish traitor scum!"
Hobgoblins of some degenerate breed, looking nowhere near so fine and polished as the noble Iravon, appear briefly from the woods on either side of the road. There look to be a cool half a dozen foes! With the road running through the middle of the copse, three of these goblin marauders appear on each side of the wood - four of them fire arrows, two of them rush to engage with sword and shield! Three of them target Iravon, in response to his call, and the final archer targets Valeria. The melee rushers use their actions to approach Kiersa!
Combat Rolls:
Goblin arrows:
Attack: 13 Damage: 4 (Iravon)
Attack: 14 Damage: 3 (Iravon)
Attack: 10 Damage: 5 (Iravon)
Attack: 10 Damage: 3 (Valeria)
Goblin melee:
Attack: 4 Damage: 4 (Kiersa)
Attack: 22 Damage: 5 (Kiersa)
As the arrows zing through the air, a large canid lopes into the middle of the road, its maw a blood-red mass of teeth as it glares at you with baleful hatred.
Kiersa quickly concentrates on the black ring on her left index finger. One of the bright orange runes vanishes as an invisible barrier of force is created. It just deflects aside the hobgoblin's blow.
(ooc: Using Reaction to cast Shield, AC 23 to start of my next turn)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Iravon accepts the arrow with a grunt, before dismounting.
<Dargrath, face the beast, rip out its throat> he speaks into his steed's mind.
(Assuming Dargrath shares my initiative, please let me know if not...) Dargrath bounds over to the wolf-like creature and will tackle it head on, jaws champing down, attempting to grind it into the dust of the road.
Bite: 18 Damage 10, + DC13 STR save or be knocked prone.
With a roar Iravon charges towards the two attacking Kiersa, and will swing with all his might at the closest one, imbuing his strike with Thunderous Smite.
Flail: 18 Damage: 5
Flail: 20 Damage: 10
Thunderous Smite (first hit only): Damage 9 thunder, + DC14 STR save or pushed 10ft and prone.
If possible he'll try to knock one into the other with the Smite, and end his turn within 5ft of Kiersa.
Dargath attempst to drag one of the goblins surrounding Kiersa down, but is blocked by a hastily interposed shield!
Iravon dives into the fray and whiffs once, his flail crackling with energy! As the goblin lowers his guard to turn towards this new attacker, however, the flail whips back and cracks him on the skull with thunderous burst, felling him instantly! One goblin down! Five remaining!
The deceased goblin spins into his erstwhile comrade, encumbering him for a brief moment in the midst of combat (next single attack will get advantage on the remaining goblin in melee with Kiersa!)
(EMIW, I believe that you do not have to declare a smite until you hit, I read your post as smiting on the hit which would kill the target!)
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After several days traveling East, you have at last left the dusty, unnamed trail passing beneath the shadows of the Wyrmsmoke mountains. The copper hues of reflected light on the mountaintops and the grey-green of leafy trees on either side of the trail were scenic, if a little foreboding. During the warm nights of late spring, when the moon brightly shone above you like the goddess' smile, you occasionally heard odd shouts and calls, echoing from high peaks, though by dawn the sun rose to a quiet stillness all around. On recent nights, strange dreams of fire and blood poisoned your rest, and having already come so far, from false clerics to surly dwarves, you are all eager for a place to rest - a good inn, a night in a bed, and the promise of finding Vraath keep at last!
The afternoon sun beats down on you; the air is hot and still. The sparsely settled lands of Elsir Vale are starting to grow monotonous, with a rolling hills and cultured fields to either side of the road for as far as the eye can see. The town of Drellin's Ferry lies a few miles ahead of you. It's a settlement hard on the borders of the Witchwood, and the best place from which to begin exploring the nearby forest, wherein lies, you understand, Vraath Keep. No one is quite sure exactly where it is, as it has long been abandoned, but you feel sure that some of the locals will be able to give you some clearer directions...
A little ways ahead of you, the road sidles its way deeper into the valley, passing into a pleasant-looking copse of trees that you can faintly hear rustling in the cool, crisp wind. You've made good time, today, and should be at Drellin's Ferry in time for a late lunch.
Mae took a pause after the 178th verse of "Gallaghar the love sick Goliath" probably much to everyone's relief, and noted the distance they had traveled so far and pointing down the road a ways. "Not bad today eh! But I think I am not the only one ready to find some refreshment and a better place to rest for the night. Just a bit further I believe and we should be arriving at Drellin's Ferry. Let's hope the people there are still welcoming to travelers and have some suggestion or insight into this keep. I don't really want to wander the Witchwood aimlessly if at all possible." Mae was about to start up her song again, but thought better of it and stowed her instruments for the time being. After all, there were exactly 311 verses to the ballad which was really a lot, even for a goliath.
"Yes, I agree Maevla, we are in no hurry, let us stay and rest at Drellin's Ferry." Valeria says warmly as she rides her chestnut steed alongside Mae with a graceful and almost regal bearing, enjoying the lovely scenery of the valley below them, her long blonde hair in intricate braids, her face pale with delicate features and a calm warm smile on her thin lips. She's wearing an exquisite magenta shirt with silver embroideries, linen pants and high soft brown leather boots with small white feathered wings at their sides. Hanging from her neck is a silver amulet engraved with a pair of mysterious eyes surrounded by seven small stars.
Val didn't mind hearing any of Mae's many verses of "Gallaghar the love sick Goliath" as the young bard was a perfect company to keep, raising spirits on their long and often arduous journey. It was hard to imagine that they were finally here at Elsir Vale, and now Val feared her companions were soon to leave. They had been through a lot of adventures together already and soon that might come to an end with Iravon and Mae going on the road again. She still had some hopes Kiersa would stay with her until she settled in at her keep. Although Kiersa had alway been her closest friend she had quickly grown to like Mae, and even the loyal and trustworthy Iravon had found a place in her heart. There were still a keep to be found and cleared out though from whatever creatures had decided to make it a home since the place had been abandoned so many years ago.
"Ah! You can't just stop there, Mae! I have to know if maybe next time things work out for poor Gallaghar!" Kiersa protests as she rides along a few paces behind Valeria and Mae. Strands of her shoulder length blonde hair fall into her face, covering her light blue eyes. She brushes the strand away as she watches the pair riding ahead of her. Her own horse, trotting along easily at the pace the group has set, has a brown and white pinto coloration. To most, her appearance was not the most impressive. But Kiersa felt that this was the best of all the horses the group had acquired, in both temperament and physical ability. She had named her Tifaceli - a gnomish name she recalled from some children's tale she 'd half forgotten.
With the hot afternoon sun, she started to pull off the grey, cowled scarf she kept about her shoulders. Kiersa felt that the gray scarf with small white dots accented perfectly with the light tank cloak she wore over her chain mail armor. From scarf, to cloak, leather pants, and sturdy boots, everything is of fine quality if not overly ornate. But at this moment, the scarf was simply too warm.
"Which one is Drellin's ferry? Did you say It's right by the Witchwood? It would be nice to get out of the sun and enjoy a proper meal," she adds.
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
[Sorry, ignore]
DM - Storm King's Thunder
DM - Torosevia (WIP homebrew world)
Kelytha Meliamne - Matti Silverstorm - Silver - Star-Setting-In-The-East - Tor Baltos
Iravon rode silently, watching the road, the forest, the hilltops. Watching for signs of movement. He sighed gently with relief as the song ended, but made no comment. Expressing that relief might provoke confrontation, but expressing any kind of appreciation for the song out of politeness might encourage her to start again. So he said nothing.
His mount also padded silently alongside the horses. When Bargrivyek had first granted Iravon the power to summon a steed from beyond the Material Plane, he had not known what form it would take, but was unsurprised, even pleased, when a worg had bounded out of thin air. The horses of the others had almost bolted at first, but quickly scented that this was no true worg, but a fey spirit taking worg form. He had named it Dargrath, Great Slayer. The horses still seemed a little unsure of Dargrath, but the worg spirit was entirely under Iravon's control, and an uneasy compromise had formed between the animals.
A bead of sweat ran down Iravon's red face into his thick muttonchops. It was hot under the padding and chainmail, but his training meant that he showed no outward sign of discomfort. He had to be prepared for combat at all times. A shield hung from his back, and his holy flail from his hip, its heavy head dipped in white paint, now stained with blood.
His left hand and forearm ached. It was still blackened and twisted from their encounter with that damn necromancer. They had asked at every town on their route, but nowhere had a cleric talented enough to cure this blight. Its progress had been slowed, but Iravon imagined that he could feel it creeping up his arm, like the tendrils of some black creature, reaching upwards for his heart. There was no honour in a death like that. Before that happened he would take himself away back into the Wyrmsmokes to challenge whichever tribe he came upon first. He would not survive, but he would die a glorious death, and his ashes would be scattered on his home soil. In the meantime he clung to hope, and the promise of the next town, and the next.
At Kiersa's mention of food, Iravon's stomach rumbled. He hadn't realised how hungry he was. He spoke up for the first time in at least an hour. "A meal would be good. It would be a shame to die of hunger so close to our destination."
DM - Storm King's Thunder
DM - Torosevia (WIP homebrew world)
Kelytha Meliamne - Matti Silverstorm - Silver - Star-Setting-In-The-East - Tor Baltos
The road crests a small rise and descends into a dusty grove in a shallow dell. An abandoned farmhouse, partially visible through the trees, stands on one side of the road. You've passed a dozen spots much like this one already today, but this one feels wrong. Iravon, ever watchful, please make a perception check! Someone else in the party may Help to give advantage.
Perception: 6
And a second if Helped: 8, otherwise take the first roll.
DM - Storm King's Thunder
DM - Torosevia (WIP homebrew world)
Kelytha Meliamne - Matti Silverstorm - Silver - Star-Setting-In-The-East - Tor Baltos
"Iravon, be watchful." Valeria says quickly to the hobgoblin mercenary riding his worg steed ahead of the others. She feels something is off with the farmhouse ahead, scanning the building for a possible ambush, wary of an attack now.
(Help action given)
6
Particularly watchful does not well describe Iravon at the moment, but his attention is suddenly anchored by the side of the road when the unmistakable glint of chain mail catches the light, and the telltale draw of a taught bowstring creaks across the road like the cry of some summer insect. Through the brush on the side of the road, you see them - fierce warriors - tall, hairy humanoids with wide mouths and flat faces - are lying in wait!
Combat incoming - take a pre-combat action as you see fit (not an attack) and then roll initiative!
15
Kiersa notes Iravon's attention suddenly being drawn to the side of the road. She slows her mount just a bit, suddenly alert for danger. (Initiative: 4)
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Iravon's yellow eyes focus on the scrub and trees by the farmhouse. His hackles raise, something is off. Then a flicker of reflected light, the creak of a bowstring, he knows these sounds all too well. As the attackers that are waiting for them become visible, he growls out to the group "Ambush! Ready your weapons!" and takes his own flail in hand.
(DM, does Iravon recognise what the attackers are? Sounds like bugbears to me...)
If he identifies them as such, he will shout out in Goblin "Let us pass, or you will not see another sunrise!"
Initiative: 12
DM - Storm King's Thunder
DM - Torosevia (WIP homebrew world)
Kelytha Meliamne - Matti Silverstorm - Silver - Star-Setting-In-The-East - Tor Baltos
At Iravon's warning Valeria quickly uses her divine magic to create a protective magical force surrounding herself (Mage Armor) before using her winged boots to fly off to cover, if posssible, from any arrows from the side of the road.
(Valeria Initiative: 21)
(Initiative 5, Dex bonus 1)
Mae was about to take up her long winded ballad when the shout arose from the group and they came to a stop. With a quick strum and short hum she rolled off her horse opposite the attackers and disappeared (casting invisibility using her bandore, 1 charge).
A chilling scream in goblin rings back at you Iravon!
"Perish traitor scum!"
Hobgoblins of some degenerate breed, looking nowhere near so fine and polished as the noble Iravon, appear briefly from the woods on either side of the road. There look to be a cool half a dozen foes! With the road running through the middle of the copse, three of these goblin marauders appear on each side of the wood - four of them fire arrows, two of them rush to engage with sword and shield! Three of them target Iravon, in response to his call, and the final archer targets Valeria. The melee rushers use their actions to approach Kiersa!
Combat Rolls:
Goblin arrows:
Attack: 13 Damage: 4 (Iravon)
Attack: 14 Damage: 3 (Iravon)
Attack: 10 Damage: 5 (Iravon)
Attack: 10 Damage: 3 (Valeria)
Goblin melee:
Attack: 4 Damage: 4 (Kiersa)
Attack: 22 Damage: 5 (Kiersa)
As the arrows zing through the air, a large canid lopes into the middle of the road, its maw a blood-red mass of teeth as it glares at you with baleful hatred.
One of the arrows strikes home against Iravon for 8 damage!
Kiersa's training is overcome by a ferocious attack as the hobgoblin before he batters aside her shield and deals 12 damage!
Iravon, it is your turn!
Kiersa quickly concentrates on the black ring on her left index finger. One of the bright orange runes vanishes as an invisible barrier of force is created. It just deflects aside the hobgoblin's blow.
(ooc: Using Reaction to cast Shield, AC 23 to start of my next turn)
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Rylia Lionrage | Roxana Raincrest | Janek Whitmor | Lokilia Vaelphin
Iravon accepts the arrow with a grunt, before dismounting.
<Dargrath, face the beast, rip out its throat> he speaks into his steed's mind.
(Assuming Dargrath shares my initiative, please let me know if not...) Dargrath bounds over to the wolf-like creature and will tackle it head on, jaws champing down, attempting to grind it into the dust of the road.
Bite: 18 Damage 10, + DC13 STR save or be knocked prone.
With a roar Iravon charges towards the two attacking Kiersa, and will swing with all his might at the closest one, imbuing his strike with Thunderous Smite.
Flail: 18 Damage: 5
Flail: 20 Damage: 10
Thunderous Smite (first hit only): Damage 9 thunder, + DC14 STR save or pushed 10ft and prone.
If possible he'll try to knock one into the other with the Smite, and end his turn within 5ft of Kiersa.
DM - Storm King's Thunder
DM - Torosevia (WIP homebrew world)
Kelytha Meliamne - Matti Silverstorm - Silver - Star-Setting-In-The-East - Tor Baltos
Valeria is up next, then Mae, then Kiersa!
Dargath attempst to drag one of the goblins surrounding Kiersa down, but is blocked by a hastily interposed shield!
Iravon dives into the fray and whiffs once, his flail crackling with energy! As the goblin lowers his guard to turn towards this new attacker, however, the flail whips back and cracks him on the skull with thunderous burst, felling him instantly! One goblin down! Five remaining!
The deceased goblin spins into his erstwhile comrade, encumbering him for a brief moment in the midst of combat (next single attack will get advantage on the remaining goblin in melee with Kiersa!)
(EMIW, I believe that you do not have to declare a smite until you hit, I read your post as smiting on the hit which would kill the target!)