If you're still interested, I could pick up the story element of the campaign if you can assist on what rolls people need to make. It might not be the most complex story either, but with so little in play now, it's better than if the op dm had abandoned ship in the middle of a fight or something. Besides, it'd be a shame if this stopped now, with such an interesting premise.
Still waiting to hear back from two others. Mustang's out. Architect was on 5 days ago and Snapdragon was on 10 hours previous. If I only get one of them, I might:
a tall Dragonborn with bright bronze scales in spellcasters garb kicks around parts of the broken boat muttering to himself about their current situation
The Tiefling girl in the mud is slowly regaining consciousness and looks around, frowning at the state of her clothes and hair... she slowly gets up on her feet...
"Hello" she says a bit shyly "were you on that boat too? I'm Korbiña" and looks around for any other survivors and movement before spotting something in the mud that she grabs... pulling out a long crooked staff, covered in mud
"Yuck" she tries to shake off the mud from the staff...
(OK, screw it, I can start early. Those of you who still haven't sent me a Sheet yet, do so and I can add you to the next scene.)
The Captain shakes her head and focuses on the task at hand. She begins scrounging about the wreckage, searching for a satchel to stow spare supplies. Turning to the nearest survivors, she calls, "We've not a moment ta lose! Gather what gear ya can reason carry, search the corpses and make your way to the tree o'er thar!" She points to a cusp of mangroves near a muddy slope. (I'm not making you roll for supplies this time. Grab your backpacks stuck in the mud and look for food).
Indicating to the Dragonborn, "You! Scales! I forgot ya name! Trot o'er to that 'ere burlap! Should 'ave spuds in. Load up." She indicates to sack lying near the snapped dregs of the ship. A stray potato sits in the muck nearby.
As the survivors begin sorting through remains, a score of bubbles begin erupting from the river shallows. A large shape, a firbolg, throws itself from the tide, scrambling to shore with all its might. Coughing and retching muddy water on the shore, it pulls another from the rapids: a smaller man, dressed in arcane apparel (an introduction for the genasi and giant). Both begin choking up swallowed muck and bile from the torrent.
As the rain begins to fall faster, the Captain turns to the Tiefling and nods her to the half-drowned survivors: "See if they need help."
Korbiña tilts her head backward for a moment, to let the rain wash the mud from her face and runs her hands over her scalp and down her hair to squeeze out the mud... hearing the captain she shrugs and hurries over to the strange giant and the human
"I'm Korbiña. I'm not a healer of any kind, but how are you both? Any open wounds that need cleaning and bandaging? Can you make it to the tree over there?"
While talking her eyes dart about the muddy ground, looking for something...
" Spuds, spuds she says" and goes over to the sack after retrieving his pack from the mud.
he walks over to the mangroves with the others.
"here's your spuds captain, i hope there's more than that in our future." he drops the sack at her feet and moves off to the side to check that his belongings are in good order.
The Captain bites back her words, instead contenting in the notion of slugging the uptight lizard in his jaw later by "accident." A twee smile crosses her lips as her gaze turns to the river, marveling at how much calmer it seems despite the renewed downpour. Her smile shortly fades, however, when her eyes pan back to the wreckage of her poor vessel.
"Damn that man," she mutters under her breath. Him and his son were going to pay out the arse for this. Her mood begins to sour further, so she returns to her pleasant daydream of pushing her scaly passenger into a bottomless gorge.
The firbolg standing beside the water shakes his fur, (not unlike a dog) showering anything nearby with river water. In an amicable but gravelly voice, he asks to the group as a whole, "Alright, who did it? Who stole a swig of wine in the canoe?"
The query is met with no response from the group, except some possible disdain read on their faces, perhaps merely owing to the damp state of their effects. "Look, ita obvious what happened here. The niad in this river threw a tantrum a d bkw we're uo a river without a paddle. Everyone knows niads get jealous of anyone drinking wine, because they see it as inferior to water and take it as a personal insult. So, I'll as again: who capsized us by turning our journey into a booze cruise?"
Hi all. Just to give some idea kf whata going in here, this PC is a druid wit a low int score and no proficiency in nature. He's really good at survival and animals, but on actual nature checks, he's a total flop. So he basically thinks he knows a good bit about the way things work in nature, but it's all superstitions and folklore. Mechanically, just know that if the druid suggests some course of action regarding nature, it's probably a safe bet, but his logic will not be sound.
the dragonborn looks at the firbolg as he speaks and pulls out a notebook out of his bag and jots something down *grumbles* " niads don't like wine. further study needed."
The smaller man the giant pulled from the water is still on the ground, twitching and heaving in exertion. With the two out of immediate risk, the Captain calls to the big oaf, "Oi. Tiny. Grab your lil' friend and drop 'im o'er here! Then grab your stuff and and form up." She turns to the rest. "'Same goes for all of ya! Gather what yer lookin' fer and form up here."
A devious idea has formed in her mind and she's going to play on it, regardless of how angry their benefactor could get. A thin cruel smile struggles to remain hidden. She pulls out the charter missive, silently rereading the true objective of this little 'expedition' of theirs.
Beeing ignored by "Tiny" Korbiña shrugs and looks around for something she's missing... using her staff to probe the mud she regularly stops to wash the mud off herself and off the staff and not long after she drags a backpack and a chest from the mud. Sliding the backpack on her shoulder she pulls at the chest which feels like it is sucked back in...
"Best thank the giant to your left, little man." chides the Captain. "Without 'im draggin' ya ter shore, ya'd liken ta have been quipper chum by now!"
She turns back to the damn lizard, on edge. "Oi! Scales! Pick up the pace!"
The river's begun to swell again. Something's wrong, she can feel it. Her sailor's intuition is screaming at her. 'To arms!' it cries, bouncing around in her head. But pressing matters hold her attention, as something is coming from the water...
"To arms!" she yells, as crabs begin pouring from the far right of the river tide, pouncing on the corpses further down the shore. They're large, she notices, likely gorging themselves on any poor souls unfortunate enough to drown in these wild waters. They're preoccupied currently in tearing the flesh of the dead or dying. But soon they'll turn their attention to the fresher meal over here. "Form up, damn you! Now, while they're busy! Brawlers in front, spellcasters at flank. Hustle!"
[This is more or less a .25 encounter, an exhibition. Roll initiative.]
If you're still interested, I could pick up the story element of the campaign if you can assist on what rolls people need to make. It might not be the most complex story either, but with so little in play now, it's better than if the op dm had abandoned ship in the middle of a fight or something. Besides, it'd be a shame if this stopped now, with such an interesting premise.
Ok, I'm game ^^
I'm in.
Still waiting to hear back from two others. Mustang's out. Architect was on 5 days ago and Snapdragon was on 10 hours previous. If I only get one of them, I might:
-need someone to find a replacement
-start with only 3, or
-make a PC myself
I'm cool with any of the three options
still open to apply?
Apply away. But just PM your sheet to me. Once I hear back from the other two I'm waiting for, things can get started again.
I would enjoy joining. I'll pm my character sheet.
You better watch out you better not cry you better not pout I'm telling you why. Murderers are coming to town.
a tall Dragonborn with bright bronze scales in spellcasters garb kicks around parts of the broken boat muttering to himself about their current situation
The Tiefling girl in the mud is slowly regaining consciousness and looks around, frowning at the state of her clothes and hair... she slowly gets up on her feet...
"Hello" she says a bit shyly "were you on that boat too? I'm Korbiña" and looks around for any other survivors and movement before spotting something in the mud that she grabs... pulling out a long crooked staff, covered in mud
"Yuck" she tries to shake off the mud from the staff...
(OK, screw it, I can start early. Those of you who still haven't sent me a Sheet yet, do so and I can add you to the next scene.)
The Captain shakes her head and focuses on the task at hand. She begins scrounging about the wreckage, searching for a satchel to stow spare supplies. Turning to the nearest survivors, she calls, "We've not a moment ta lose! Gather what gear ya can reason carry, search the corpses and make your way to the tree o'er thar!" She points to a cusp of mangroves near a muddy slope. (I'm not making you roll for supplies this time. Grab your backpacks stuck in the mud and look for food).
Indicating to the Dragonborn, "You! Scales! I forgot ya name! Trot o'er to that 'ere burlap! Should 'ave spuds in. Load up." She indicates to sack lying near the snapped dregs of the ship. A stray potato sits in the muck nearby.
As the survivors begin sorting through remains, a score of bubbles begin erupting from the river shallows. A large shape, a firbolg, throws itself from the tide, scrambling to shore with all its might. Coughing and retching muddy water on the shore, it pulls another from the rapids: a smaller man, dressed in arcane apparel (an introduction for the genasi and giant). Both begin choking up swallowed muck and bile from the torrent.
As the rain begins to fall faster, the Captain turns to the Tiefling and nods her to the half-drowned survivors: "See if they need help."
Korbiña tilts her head backward for a moment, to let the rain wash the mud from her face and runs her hands over her scalp and down her hair to squeeze out the mud... hearing the captain she shrugs and hurries over to the strange giant and the human
"I'm Korbiña. I'm not a healer of any kind, but how are you both? Any open wounds that need cleaning and bandaging? Can you make it to the tree over there?"
While talking her eyes dart about the muddy ground, looking for something...
Asher looks at the woman as she speaks to him.
" Spuds, spuds she says" and goes over to the sack after retrieving his pack from the mud.
he walks over to the mangroves with the others.
"here's your spuds captain, i hope there's more than that in our future." he drops the sack at her feet and moves off to the side to check that his belongings are in good order.
The Captain bites back her words, instead contenting in the notion of slugging the uptight lizard in his jaw later by "accident." A twee smile crosses her lips as her gaze turns to the river, marveling at how much calmer it seems despite the renewed downpour. Her smile shortly fades, however, when her eyes pan back to the wreckage of her poor vessel.
"Damn that man," she mutters under her breath. Him and his son were going to pay out the arse for this. Her mood begins to sour further, so she returns to her pleasant daydream of pushing her scaly passenger into a bottomless gorge.
The firbolg standing beside the water shakes his fur, (not unlike a dog) showering anything nearby with river water. In an amicable but gravelly voice, he asks to the group as a whole, "Alright, who did it? Who stole a swig of wine in the canoe?"
The query is met with no response from the group, except some possible disdain read on their faces, perhaps merely owing to the damp state of their effects. "Look, ita obvious what happened here. The niad in this river threw a tantrum a d bkw we're uo a river without a paddle. Everyone knows niads get jealous of anyone drinking wine, because they see it as inferior to water and take it as a personal insult. So, I'll as again: who capsized us by turning our journey into a booze cruise?"
Hi all. Just to give some idea kf whata going in here, this PC is a druid wit a low int score and no proficiency in nature. He's really good at survival and animals, but on actual nature checks, he's a total flop. So he basically thinks he knows a good bit about the way things work in nature, but it's all superstitions and folklore. Mechanically, just know that if the druid suggests some course of action regarding nature, it's probably a safe bet, but his logic will not be sound.
the dragonborn looks at the firbolg as he speaks and pulls out a notebook out of his bag and jots something down *grumbles* " niads don't like wine. further study needed."
The smaller man the giant pulled from the water is still on the ground, twitching and heaving in exertion. With the two out of immediate risk, the Captain calls to the big oaf, "Oi. Tiny. Grab your lil' friend and drop 'im o'er here! Then grab your stuff and and form up." She turns to the rest. "'Same goes for all of ya! Gather what yer lookin' fer and form up here."
A devious idea has formed in her mind and she's going to play on it, regardless of how angry their benefactor could get. A thin cruel smile struggles to remain hidden. She pulls out the charter missive, silently rereading the true objective of this little 'expedition' of theirs.
Beeing ignored by "Tiny" Korbiña shrugs and looks around for something she's missing... using her staff to probe the mud she regularly stops to wash the mud off herself and off the staff and not long after she drags a backpack and a chest from the mud. Sliding the backpack on her shoulder she pulls at the chest which feels like it is sucked back in...
A man with an orange wizards Cloak and hat drags himself onto shore. Sputtering and coughing he says "what the HELL!"
You better watch out you better not cry you better not pout I'm telling you why. Murderers are coming to town.
"Best thank the giant to your left, little man." chides the Captain. "Without 'im draggin' ya ter shore, ya'd liken ta have been quipper chum by now!"
She turns back to the damn lizard, on edge. "Oi! Scales! Pick up the pace!"
The river's begun to swell again. Something's wrong, she can feel it. Her sailor's intuition is screaming at her. 'To arms!' it cries, bouncing around in her head. But pressing matters hold her attention, as something is coming from the water...
"To arms!" she yells, as crabs begin pouring from the far right of the river tide, pouncing on the corpses further down the shore. They're large, she notices, likely gorging themselves on any poor souls unfortunate enough to drown in these wild waters. They're preoccupied currently in tearing the flesh of the dead or dying. But soon they'll turn their attention to the fresher meal over here. "Form up, damn you! Now, while they're busy! Brawlers in front, spellcasters at flank. Hustle!"
[This is more or less a .25 encounter, an exhibition. Roll initiative.]