Artifex sits in the boat as well, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the water. They hardly seem to be paying attention a this point, staring off into the forest, a smile dancing across their expression, one that seems to welcome whatever may come next.
The day only seems to grow more misty as you step aboard the lizardfolk's raft and your boats are secured alongside; so far as you can see, ytheir contents have not been touched. Ts’serh’stchah nods once in silent approval, noting that all have chosen to board. You think you see a little surprise as Artifex steps aboard; and he looks more closely at Tarton than he yet has as the halfling settles into an uncomfortable cross-legged silence. There is a veiled concern in that look; there might be a hint of pity, but the cold reptilian eyes are too hard for any warmblood to read, and Gwrgi says nothing.
Taron wants to test his pick pocketing skills on the Lizardfolk because they seem sharp eyed, but he doesn't want to cause any problems. He gets a bit antsy until he decides to pull a couple of pebbles out of his pocket and practice switching them from hand to hand and up his sleeves stealthily. After calming down a bit, he starts thinking about how he was looking forward to having dinner and going to bed. Then after trying to hold the question in for a few minutes he asks, "When we get to our destination, will there be time for an evening meal, or is it straight to the pit to see if we will become something else's meal?"
Ts’serh’stchah chuckles drily; he seems to slowly be getting over his initial distaste at the halfling's wordiness. "Food you will have. And not become. We are not followers S'sessinek. You will only ... shed old life in rebirth pit. Like snake casting too tight skin. Sometimes needs ... help." He emits another chuckle, but his reptilian vocal chords strip the sound of any emotional context whatever to anyone but Gwrgi. And Gwrgihas settled crosslegged into the center of the raft in regal silence. If anyone but the lizardfolk try to speak to her she shushes them peremptorily, clearly trying to maintain an image of detached superiority.
The raft pushes off from shore, and the lizardfolk pole it slowly and steadily north upriver, gradually quartering across the current towards the farther shore. The mist has now thinned and risen a little; you see five dark specks lazily circling in the air above as you proceed. The lizardfolk are not reacting to them, but sometimes cast a wary eye upwards. (two PER rolls please ;)
Artifex leans back, closing their eyes with a sigh. "I do quite adore floating down the river. One this beautiful is perfect for a nap. I can almost imagine Tantalus struggling to drink from it's waters"
As the Black Rose sat in the boat, he remained quiet and focused his senses, listening keenly to the movements, words, and tone of the Lizardfolks when they spoke. He also tried to remain aware of his surroundings as best he could, remembering the advice his father had once given him: "A mole deep in its tunnels underground sometimes senses more than an eagle high in the sky. Use what you've got and make the best of it."
------------
I do not know how much he can detect being blind, but he might hear something or maybe know something is going on based on the reactions of the lizard folks and the party. Anyway, here are the rolls:
-------------------------- I assumed you wanted 2 perception checks total from the party, but if I'm wrong and you want two from each character then here are Tarton's. Ignore if you already have the 2 from the party you needed.
Though none of you can make out exactly what the hovering creatures are, the lizardfolk's tension and what visual cues you get indicate that they're probably considerably larger than they look.
One thing, though, only Tarton notices, and even he isn't sure. The discomfort and tension are hard to push away, and sometimes he hears all too sadly familiar whispers at the edge of his mind as the sun crosses the zenith and begins to sink towards its setting. But one thing he did note. The flying creatures came straight from the west. But when he saw them, before he had time to mask his reaction, Ts’serh’stchah gave a troubled glance north, upriver well past the small cove on the western bank... still some ways upstream ... that the lizardfolk seem to be steering towards.
Nothing further happens as you are poled slowly upstream until the raft glides heavily into an irregularly scooped hollow in the western bank. The terrain seems slightly more open here, with scattered clusters and stands of reeds dotted at random over a vast expanse of marshy ground that slowly rises into the first foothills of the Ulvsnesshjolm mountains. Banks of mist hang heavily in the air, and the very ground seems to breathe hazes and glooms. There is a landing made of flat stones by the water's edge; beyond is a half-palisade / half-hedge of stakes and thorny bushes. Through a gap in this, you can see the lizardfolk's village: huts that are arranged in neat circles around the outskirts, but jumbled without plan in the center around a vast pit that looks like it collapsed in a vast sinkhole and swallowed up some ancient structure or crumbling ruin. A few worn pillars still lean drunkenly on the far side, around a jutting point of firmer land; and you can just make out what looks like a rough-hewn altar beyond. Ts’serh’stchah gestures to the pit with ironic grandiosity. "Pit of Osssl'th. Here you lose old self to gain our trust."
"You come at good time. One other ... volunteer ... to be reborn lately, so you have company. He a little slower on uptake than you, though. Still, not bad fellow, just a little stubborn" He chuckles strangely; you're not sure at what.
Ts’serh’stchah chuckles. "Not combat, no. Probably. Unless that what you sent by whatever face Sekinah wear to you." Kneeling by a small fire on which a lidded, spouted pot is bubbling, he opens the lid and adds a handful of leaves he plucked off one of the hedge bushes as you entered. Then he carefully pulls out a stoppered glass bottle and adds three crystal clear amethyst droplets, and you catch a spicy scent of clove. Then he pours each of you a cup ... and, to his credit, takes one himself and hands one each to the three large lizardfolk who seemed to be his seconds in command during the raft trip. He raises his to you in a toast, surprising Artifex by curling his pinky upward with a wink. "Tea time, in decent places like this. And this tea of the spirit. Then we go down in pit and welcome you into tribe, and watch how your spirit dances during welcome with sight this give us. No fear, we all drink. We not ask trust without giving."
The Black Rose accepted the cup of tea and took in its aroma with a deep sniff, attempting to discern its type. Regardless of what he smelled, he then took a big sip, once again trying to determine its composition. He continued drinking the tea, understanding that refusing might be ill-received in this situation. His curiosity about the tea's ingredients stemmed more from his interest in herbs and alchemy than from fear of its effects.
-------------
I rolled Perception just in case to figure out what the tea was made of, and I got: 22 (a crit!!!)
Please disregard the roll if I was not allowed to make it.
Artifex perks up. "Oh fun, we get to trip out on drugs together. Bottoms up!" They raise their cup to It's lips, downing the drink in one go. "I ate some mushrooms once, put me on my ass for like two days. Saw some crazy shit."
Tarton looks around for the other 'volunteer' as he takes the offered cup. Before drinking he asks, "How long does this process of being reborn usually take? Also, is it offensive to you if I offer a few drops to the earth before drinking?" After getting their response, if it is offensive he does his best to hold his shaking hand still to not spill any, otherwise he lets a few drops fall to the earth. Just before he drinks he adds under his breath, "Bottoms up, and good luck to you and your village... and everyone else." then downs the drink, hands the cup back and heads into the pit.
To all those that were at the tavern where they were recruited Tarton says, "I doubt this will be fun for me, so be careful." as he walks by and sits a little ways away from them.
----------------------------------------------- Sorry for taking so long to reply.
(and apologies we've been in limbo so long. Waiting for response from Zelock, your new companion's player; there's also another player interested in joining up that I wanted to give a chance to get a character app in. But been a little distractible lately w. several things so may have missed some messages. I'll check tonight if not heard by then)
While the combination of herbs used by the lizardfolk is unfamiliar to The Black Rose, the scent and feel of each individually is deeply familiar. Each has an honored place ... some a foundational place ... in the hierarchy of Threes by which the master of Herbs who had trained him ranked all herbs of the mind and spirit. In fact they held that this system underlay all herbal disciplines; and gave these disciplines the order and control to master such powerful medicine at all. He remembers the master's chant almost with the cells of his ears: 'three Threes make Nine master herbs, each of which rules Three. Three Nines make Eighty-one ... ', and there were so many complexities involved in the eighty one that no living mortal had ever heard Master Braendelle get any farther. It was held the most foolish rashness, however, to suppose that that meant there WERE no further levels in their system.
Master Braendelle would actually have found the lizardfolks' tea keep basic principles more or less acceptably. The rulers of the Nine were not all present, but they did not absolutely HAVE to be provided there was some herb from that group with enough spirit force to harmonize the rest of its kin. This Tser'ts'tchah has certainly done: The Black Rose's trained senses recognize mugwort and crabapple; betony and peppermint; hawthorn, rowan, and hazel. The gate of the mind's ki point was not watched by the fiercer guardians such as nightshade or belladonna; so the effects will not include any spirit battles at the gate of life or death. Yarrow, a much more readily available herb in wet lowlands, takes its place. You can probably expect some mild hallucinations, but nothing soul wrenching.
The final component, unsurprisingly, is babbleflower; but after some hasty consultation with Gwrgi, he believes the amount and concentration will not make it impossible to conceal anything the drinker really wants to keep private. Aside from that, the dragonborn priestess keeps a watchful silence after drinking the tea she is offered. She walks over to the other side of the group from Erolith and keeps watch upon that flank. He notes, though, she drank without showing any reservations. As for the concotion's effects on Tarton, he is not nearly as sure. But the Master's teachings tell him this at least: the effect would at worst be mixed. For every herb that stirs the spirit there is a matching one that calms it; and the candor babbleflower brings can be a strength as well as a weakness, helping the spirit bear up under hard truths by making clear the veil of illusions that would trap it in either false hope or false despair.
«﴾⸞≈∞⸎∞≈⸟﴿»
Tarton, meanwhile, has gotten a little better vantage point on the pit in the village center. He can't yet see enough to determine the layout, but it definitely contains piles of rubble and broken stonework that look like old ruins of some civilization with a sophisticated architecture; that the tangled humour of fate assigned no better end than to be swallowed up by a sinkhole in a swamp. The builders were at least Medium sized creatures, and to the eyes of halfling or gnome loom so vast that it is difficult to tell more. But Erolith and Gwrgi both think the builders were creatures larger than humans but smaller than true giantkind. And the creature Tarton sees leaning with his back against a fallen pillar is definitely no larger than a human. Its wrists and ankles both seem to be bound with rope, but the look on its face is difficult to read (Insight roll at DC16 if he wants to try peering through the thickening mist to try and figure it out). He thinks the figure is male from the fierce black beard and moustache that is part of what makes the expression hard to read; and the face around that beard glows red in the light of the sinking sun. Its skin may truly be of that hue rather than simply glowing in the evening light, but he will have to look closer (Investigation roll, DC13) to be sure of that or any other detail but one: the pillar it is leaning against is in the middle of the pit Tser'ts'tchah is leading all who have drunk his tea towards. As soon as anyone follows him, they see a muddy path leading down into the part of the pit where the lone figure waits in addition to all that Tarton just saw -- and at that point can make (or repeat) his Insight and Investigation rolls).
The Black Rose followed and sat down in the boat as well, remaining quiet.
Artifex sits in the boat as well, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the water. They hardly seem to be paying attention a this point, staring off into the forest, a smile dancing across their expression, one that seems to welcome whatever may come next.
Gets on a boat
The day only seems to grow more misty as you step aboard the lizardfolk's raft and your boats are secured alongside; so far as you can see, ytheir contents have not been touched. Ts’serh’stchah nods once in silent approval, noting that all have chosen to board. You think you see a little surprise as Artifex steps aboard; and he looks more closely at Tarton than he yet has as the halfling settles into an uncomfortable cross-legged silence. There is a veiled concern in that look; there might be a hint of pity, but the cold reptilian eyes are too hard for any warmblood to read, and Gwrgi says nothing.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Taron wants to test his pick pocketing skills on the Lizardfolk because they seem sharp eyed, but he doesn't want to cause any problems. He gets a bit antsy until he decides to pull a couple of pebbles out of his pocket and practice switching them from hand to hand and up his sleeves stealthily. After calming down a bit, he starts thinking about how he was looking forward to having dinner and going to bed. Then after trying to hold the question in for a few minutes he asks, "When we get to our destination, will there be time for an evening meal, or is it straight to the pit to see if we will become something else's meal?"
Ts’serh’stchah chuckles drily; he seems to slowly be getting over his initial distaste at the halfling's wordiness. "Food you will have. And not become. We are not followers S'sessinek. You will only ... shed old life in rebirth pit. Like snake casting too tight skin. Sometimes needs ... help." He emits another chuckle, but his reptilian vocal chords strip the sound of any emotional context whatever to anyone but Gwrgi. And Gwrgi has settled crosslegged into the center of the raft in regal silence. If anyone but the lizardfolk try to speak to her she shushes them peremptorily, clearly trying to maintain an image of detached superiority.
The raft pushes off from shore, and the lizardfolk pole it slowly and steadily north upriver, gradually quartering across the current towards the farther shore. The mist has now thinned and risen a little; you see five dark specks lazily circling in the air above as you proceed. The lizardfolk are not reacting to them, but sometimes cast a wary eye upwards. (two PER rolls please ;)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Artifex leans back, closing their eyes with a sigh. "I do quite adore floating down the river. One this beautiful is perfect for a nap. I can almost imagine Tantalus struggling to drink from it's waters"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nat 1
And 6
As the Black Rose sat in the boat, he remained quiet and focused his senses, listening keenly to the movements, words, and tone of the Lizardfolks when they spoke. He also tried to remain aware of his surroundings as best he could, remembering the advice his father had once given him: "A mole deep in its tunnels underground sometimes senses more than an eagle high in the sky. Use what you've got and make the best of it."
------------
I do not know how much he can detect being blind, but he might hear something or maybe know something is going on based on the reactions of the lizard folks and the party. Anyway, here are the rolls:
Perception 1: 8
Perception 2: 21
--------------------------
I assumed you wanted 2 perception checks total from the party, but if I'm wrong and you want two from each character then here are Tarton's. Ignore if you already have the 2 from the party you needed.
9
26 (nat 20)
Doesn't like being surrounded by water
Though none of you can make out exactly what the hovering creatures are, the lizardfolk's tension and what visual cues you get indicate that they're probably considerably larger than they look.
One thing, though, only Tarton notices, and even he isn't sure. The discomfort and tension are hard to push away, and sometimes he hears all too sadly familiar whispers at the edge of his mind as the sun crosses the zenith and begins to sink towards its setting. But one thing he did note. The flying creatures came straight from the west. But when he saw them, before he had time to mask his reaction, Ts’serh’stchah gave a troubled glance north, upriver well past the small cove on the western bank... still some ways upstream ... that the lizardfolk seem to be steering towards.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Nothing further happens as you are poled slowly upstream until the raft glides heavily into an irregularly scooped hollow in the western bank. The terrain seems slightly more open here, with scattered clusters and stands of reeds dotted at random over a vast expanse of marshy ground that slowly rises into the first foothills of the Ulvsnesshjolm mountains. Banks of mist hang heavily in the air, and the very ground seems to breathe hazes and glooms. There is a landing made of flat stones by the water's edge; beyond is a half-palisade / half-hedge of stakes and thorny bushes. Through a gap in this, you can see the lizardfolk's village: huts that are arranged in neat circles around the outskirts, but jumbled without plan in the center around a vast pit that looks like it collapsed in a vast sinkhole and swallowed up some ancient structure or crumbling ruin. A few worn pillars still lean drunkenly on the far side, around a jutting point of firmer land; and you can just make out what looks like a rough-hewn altar beyond. Ts’serh’stchah gestures to the pit with ironic grandiosity. "Pit of Osssl'th. Here you lose old self to gain our trust."
"You come at good time. One other ... volunteer ... to be reborn lately, so you have company. He a little slower on uptake than you, though. Still, not bad fellow, just a little stubborn" He chuckles strangely; you're not sure at what.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Artifex takes in the scene. "Is this some kind of magical cleansing,or more of a trial by combat? Are we fighting each other?"
Ts’serh’stchah chuckles. "Not combat, no. Probably. Unless that what you sent by whatever face Sekinah wear to you." Kneeling by a small fire on which a lidded, spouted pot is bubbling, he opens the lid and adds a handful of leaves he plucked off one of the hedge bushes as you entered. Then he carefully pulls out a stoppered glass bottle and adds three crystal clear amethyst droplets, and you catch a spicy scent of clove. Then he pours each of you a cup ... and, to his credit, takes one himself and hands one each to the three large lizardfolk who seemed to be his seconds in command during the raft trip. He raises his to you in a toast, surprising Artifex by curling his pinky upward with a wink. "Tea time, in decent places like this. And this tea of the spirit. Then we go down in pit and welcome you into tribe, and watch how your spirit dances during welcome with sight this give us. No fear, we all drink. We not ask trust without giving."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
The Black Rose accepted the cup of tea and took in its aroma with a deep sniff, attempting to discern its type. Regardless of what he smelled, he then took a big sip, once again trying to determine its composition. He continued drinking the tea, understanding that refusing might be ill-received in this situation. His curiosity about the tea's ingredients stemmed more from his interest in herbs and alchemy than from fear of its effects.
-------------
I rolled Perception just in case to figure out what the tea was made of, and I got: 22 (a crit!!!)
Please disregard the roll if I was not allowed to make it.
Artifex perks up. "Oh fun, we get to trip out on drugs together. Bottoms up!" They raise their cup to It's lips, downing the drink in one go. "I ate some mushrooms once, put me on my ass for like two days. Saw some crazy shit."
Tarton looks around for the other 'volunteer' as he takes the offered cup. Before drinking he asks, "How long does this process of being reborn usually take? Also, is it offensive to you if I offer a few drops to the earth before drinking?" After getting their response, if it is offensive he does his best to hold his shaking hand still to not spill any, otherwise he lets a few drops fall to the earth. Just before he drinks he adds under his breath, "Bottoms up, and good luck to you and your village... and everyone else." then downs the drink, hands the cup back and heads into the pit.
To all those that were at the tavern where they were recruited Tarton says, "I doubt this will be fun for me, so be careful." as he walks by and sits a little ways away from them.
-----------------------------------------------
Sorry for taking so long to reply.
(and apologies we've been in limbo so long. Waiting for response from Zelock, your new companion's player; there's also another player interested in joining up that I wanted to give a chance to get a character app in. But been a little distractible lately w. several things so may have missed some messages. I'll check tonight if not heard by then)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount
Erolith has been quietly taking in the actions of the group and intently eyeing the tree line. He sits nearby sharpening his dagger.
While the combination of herbs used by the lizardfolk is unfamiliar to The Black Rose, the scent and feel of each individually is deeply familiar. Each has an honored place ... some a foundational place ... in the hierarchy of Threes by which the master of Herbs who had trained him ranked all herbs of the mind and spirit. In fact they held that this system underlay all herbal disciplines; and gave these disciplines the order and control to master such powerful medicine at all. He remembers the master's chant almost with the cells of his ears: 'three Threes make Nine master herbs, each of which rules Three. Three Nines make Eighty-one ... ', and there were so many complexities involved in the eighty one that no living mortal had ever heard Master Braendelle get any farther. It was held the most foolish rashness, however, to suppose that that meant there WERE no further levels in their system.
Master Braendelle would actually have found the lizardfolks' tea keep basic principles more or less acceptably. The rulers of the Nine were not all present, but they did not absolutely HAVE to be provided there was some herb from that group with enough spirit force to harmonize the rest of its kin. This Tser'ts'tchah has certainly done: The Black Rose's trained senses recognize mugwort and crabapple; betony and peppermint; hawthorn, rowan, and hazel. The gate of the mind's ki point was not watched by the fiercer guardians such as nightshade or belladonna; so the effects will not include any spirit battles at the gate of life or death. Yarrow, a much more readily available herb in wet lowlands, takes its place. You can probably expect some mild hallucinations, but nothing soul wrenching.
The final component, unsurprisingly, is babbleflower; but after some hasty consultation with Gwrgi, he believes the amount and concentration will not make it impossible to conceal anything the drinker really wants to keep private. Aside from that, the dragonborn priestess keeps a watchful silence after drinking the tea she is offered. She walks over to the other side of the group from Erolith and keeps watch upon that flank. He notes, though, she drank without showing any reservations. As for the concotion's effects on Tarton, he is not nearly as sure. But the Master's teachings tell him this at least: the effect would at worst be mixed. For every herb that stirs the spirit there is a matching one that calms it; and the candor babbleflower brings can be a strength as well as a weakness, helping the spirit bear up under hard truths by making clear the veil of illusions that would trap it in either false hope or false despair.
«﴾⸞≈∞⸎∞≈⸟﴿»
Tarton, meanwhile, has gotten a little better vantage point on the pit in the village center. He can't yet see enough to determine the layout, but it definitely contains piles of rubble and broken stonework that look like old ruins of some civilization with a sophisticated architecture; that the tangled humour of fate assigned no better end than to be swallowed up by a sinkhole in a swamp. The builders were at least Medium sized creatures, and to the eyes of halfling or gnome loom so vast that it is difficult to tell more. But Erolith and Gwrgi both think the builders were creatures larger than humans but smaller than true giantkind. And the creature Tarton sees leaning with his back against a fallen pillar is definitely no larger than a human. Its wrists and ankles both seem to be bound with rope, but the look on its face is difficult to read (Insight roll at DC16 if he wants to try peering through the thickening mist to try and figure it out). He thinks the figure is male from the fierce black beard and moustache that is part of what makes the expression hard to read; and the face around that beard glows red in the light of the sinking sun. Its skin may truly be of that hue rather than simply glowing in the evening light, but he will have to look closer (Investigation roll, DC13) to be sure of that or any other detail but one: the pillar it is leaning against is in the middle of the pit Tser'ts'tchah is leading all who have drunk his tea towards. As soon as anyone follows him, they see a muddy path leading down into the part of the pit where the lone figure waits in addition to all that Tarton just saw -- and at that point can make (or repeat) his Insight and Investigation rolls).
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
Antar al'Barmeqi - goblin warlock (The Genie: Marid) 1, THE MOON OF THORNS
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 - Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Theris Dionte, shadar-kai rogue 1, Born of Stormmount