This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bockes didn't stir when he awoke with the others. He had one eye somewhat open trying to see what was going on but listening intently with his weapon by his side. He also tries to listen if anything else was creeping in on the group.
Brockes listens carefully for any sign of something out of place but, aside from the normal sounds of nighttime creatures going about their normal business, her hears nothing.
Zeke does not pull out a weapon but slowly walks towards the beast. Thus far, it seems to pose no threat to the party. He searches for clues for the animal’s intentions towards them and hopes to convey that the party does not mean it any harm. Perhaps they can be allies?
At the first sign of Zeke's approach, it seems like the creature will bolt, but then he rolls a Nat 20 raises his hand and the stag seems to settle somewhat.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Alistair melts back into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the magnificent stag. A shiver runs down his spine, a chill that goes beyond the cool night air. Is it fear, or something more? I can't shake the feeling of being watched, judged. I need answers. With a silent nod to Krog, he silently retreats deeper into the campsite, his hand instinctively reaching for his instrument. Tonight, the lute with its burning sigil seems a touch too… conspicuous. Instead, he cradles his lyre, its ornate and time polished wood cool against his skin. The lute, a symbol of his infernal pact, feels oppressive at the moment. The lyre, with its gentle melodies, feels more… appropriate. The tension between him and the stag is palpable, and he doesn't want to further provoke the creature. He plucks a gentle arpeggio, his palm expertly muting the strings to avoid startling the stag, the notes almost imperceptibly echoing softly into the night. His mind races, searching through the vast library of songs and stories stored in his memory. Was there a legend, a forgotten ballad that spoke of such a creature? A magnificent white stag with eyes that glowed like sapphires? He begins with ancient ballads, epic poems, anything that might hold a clue to this creature's nature. Frustration gnaws at him as melody after melody yields no answers. Then, a flicker of recognition. A fragment of a forgotten tune, a whisper of a tale about a spectral stag, a guardian that haunted the twilight realm, a harbinger of misfortune for those who strayed from the path of light. A shiver wracks his body. No. It can't be. This stag is magnificent, a creature of raw power and otherworldly beauty. He continues to play, weaving the forgotten melody into a new song, a song of inquiry, a plea for knowledge. Then, a forgotten melody surfaces in his mind, a gentle lullaby his mother used to sing. The melody is fragmented, a wisp of memory, but in it, he seems to catch an echo – a faint shimmer that mirrors the stag's otherworldly glow. Is there a connection?
Alistair melts back into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the magnificent stag. A shiver runs down his spine, a chill that goes beyond the cool night air. Is it fear, or something more? I can't shake the feeling of being watched, judged. I need answers. With a silent nod to Krog, he silently retreats deeper into the campsite, his hand instinctively reaching for his instrument. Tonight, the lute with its burning sigil seems a touch too… conspicuous. Instead, he cradles his lyre, its ornate and time polished wood cool against his skin. The lute, a symbol of his infernal pact, feels oppressive at the moment. The lyre, with its gentle melodies, feels more… appropriate. The tension between him and the stag is palpable, and he doesn't want to further provoke the creature. He plucks a gentle arpeggio, his palm expertly muting the strings to avoid startling the stag, the notes almost imperceptibly echoing softly into the night. His mind races, searching through the vast library of songs and stories stored in his memory. Was there a legend, a forgotten ballad that spoke of such a creature? A magnificent white stag with eyes that glowed like sapphires? He begins with ancient ballads, epic poems, anything that might hold a clue to this creature's nature. Frustration gnaws at him as melody after melody yields no answers. Then, a flicker of recognition. A fragment of a forgotten tune, a whisper of a tale about a spectral stag, a guardian that haunted the twilight realm, a harbinger of misfortune for those who strayed from the path of light. A shiver wracks his body. No. It can't be. This stag is magnificent, a creature of raw power and otherworldly beauty. He continues to play, weaving the forgotten melody into a new song, a song of inquiry, a plea for knowledge. Then, a forgotten melody surfaces in his mind, a gentle lullaby his mother used to sing. The melody is fragmented, a wisp of memory, but in it, he seems to catch an echo – a faint shimmer that mirrors the stag's otherworldly glow. Is there a connection?
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Red lifted his head slightly to take a look at his standings, everyone seams pretty calm despite the situation, only Alistair was retreating into the shadows. He will need to keep an eye on the bard. When his eyes fall onto the stag he gasp slightly, the creature was absolutely magnificent, he never seen something like this.Red start thinking real hard if he heard anything about such a creature.
Alistair returns with lyre in hand, frustration furrows his brow. The lyre hangs limply, a silent testament to his failed search. He shakes his head at Krog, a defeated sigh escapes his lips. "I know no songs, no ballads that speak of such a creature. Just glimmers of a melody from long ago, tantalizingly close yet beyond the reach of my fingertips. Seems this magnificent beast is a mystery even to the bards." He glances back at the stag, its gaze unwavering. Perhaps the answer isn't in the past. Perhaps the answer lies in this very moment, in the silence between us. A spark of ambition ignites in his eyes. “Looks like it's up to me to compose the first ballad of the White Stag," he declares. He plucks a gentle and hopeful melody on his lyre. "The ballad of this magnificent creature meeting us, a song that will echo through the ages." He waits eagerly, wondering what song their interaction with this magnificent stag will demand.
The creature cocks it's head slightly to the side, as if considering your group carefully. Then, it makes eye contact with each of you in turn. As you meet it's gaze, each of you feels strengthened in your resolve...almost as if the gods themselves were voicing their approval for your undertaking.
All of you, save for one...
While the rest of you feel warmed and encouraged by the encounter, Alistair feels only a sliver of doubt sending a shudder through his body. He feels the weight of Fierna up on him like an oppressive force. He feels accursed... No, he is a curse... And though his companions may not see it, the creature surely does.
The White Stag bows to your group one last time and then, rising majestically, it turns and bounds back into the darkness.
(For the next 24 hours in game, your characters will have the benefits of the spell Bless, except for Alistair. Any creature that attacks Alistair during the next 24 hours will suffer the penalties of the spell Bane.)
"Well, that was inspiring," Krog says feeling the blessings pour over him. And unless there are any other visitors, we continue our rest. Then head on toward the Crypt in the morning.
(Yes, you still need to rest. It was a white stag, not a red bull😁)
(Ooc: LOL! 😂 One point inspiration to Grover so long as he uses the point well! I guess Zeke would have known it was the middle of the night still and nor requested coffee. Good job Krog/Marza for keeping track of time!)
(OOC Haha lol! Does that encounter conclude Krog's portion, the first watch of the evening?)
(The Stag arrived during the second hour of Krog's watch. In the interest of moving things along...)
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, with only the ordinary sounds of ordinary animals to break the monotony for those keeping watch. You awake the next morning fully refreshed and ready to continue your journey into the woods, after a quick discussion amongst yourselves about who will be leading the way...
(Leader will need to make a Survival check, with advantage from the map, to keep you on track. If I could get a rough "order of march" for the group and a perception check from everyone else as well, please.)
“Hey Red,” asks Zeke. “You up for scouting a bit in advance of this party? My two lead feet will give a lot of advance notice if I’m in front. I’m sure we could have a bow or two at the ready if it looks like you need help quickly.”
Zeke is thinking that he and the two half-orcs have some useful skills but stealth is unlikely to be one of them. Red as the smallest and lightest might be good at this sort of thing. However, he has never asked Red before about his willingness to take on a more exposed position.
"Alistair, this maybe something of legend. Something worthy of a ballad," Krog whispers to the Bard as the others begin to wake.
Bockes didn't stir when he awoke with the others. He had one eye somewhat open trying to see what was going on but listening intently with his weapon by his side. He also tries to listen if anything else was creeping in on the group.
Perception: 21
Brockes listens carefully for any sign of something out of place but, aside from the normal sounds of nighttime creatures going about their normal business, her hears nothing.
Zeke does not pull out a weapon but slowly walks towards the beast. Thus far, it seems to pose no threat to the party. He searches for clues for the animal’s intentions towards them and hopes to convey that the party does not mean it any harm. Perhaps they can be allies?
Animal Handling check: Nat 20 + 2 = 22
At the first sign of Zeke's approach, it seems like the creature will bolt, but then he
rolls a Nat 20raises his hand and the stag seems to settle somewhat.Alistair melts back into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the magnificent stag. A shiver runs down his spine, a chill that goes beyond the cool night air. Is it fear, or something more? I can't shake the feeling of being watched, judged. I need answers. With a silent nod to Krog, he silently retreats deeper into the campsite, his hand instinctively reaching for his instrument. Tonight, the lute with its burning sigil seems a touch too… conspicuous. Instead, he cradles his lyre, its ornate and time polished wood cool against his skin. The lute, a symbol of his infernal pact, feels oppressive at the moment. The lyre, with its gentle melodies, feels more… appropriate. The tension between him and the stag is palpable, and he doesn't want to further provoke the creature.
He plucks a gentle arpeggio, his palm expertly muting the strings to avoid startling the stag, the notes almost imperceptibly echoing softly into the night. His mind races, searching through the vast library of songs and stories stored in his memory. Was there a legend, a forgotten ballad that spoke of such a creature? A magnificent white stag with eyes that glowed like sapphires? He begins with ancient ballads, epic poems, anything that might hold a clue to this creature's nature. Frustration gnaws at him as melody after melody yields no answers. Then, a flicker of recognition. A fragment of a forgotten tune, a whisper of a tale about a spectral stag, a guardian that haunted the twilight realm, a harbinger of misfortune for those who strayed from the path of light. A shiver wracks his body. No. It can't be. This stag is magnificent, a creature of raw power and otherworldly beauty. He continues to play, weaving the forgotten melody into a new song, a song of inquiry, a plea for knowledge. Then, a forgotten melody surfaces in his mind, a gentle lullaby his mother used to sing. The melody is fragmented, a wisp of memory, but in it, he seems to catch an echo – a faint shimmer that mirrors the stag's otherworldly glow. Is there a connection?
performance + lyre [Tooltip Not Found] 11
(OOC performance + lyre proficiency bonus)
Red lifted his head slightly to take a look at his standings, everyone seams pretty calm despite the situation, only Alistair was retreating into the shadows. He will need to keep an eye on the bard. When his eyes fall onto the stag he gasp slightly, the creature was absolutely magnificent, he never seen something like this.Red start thinking real hard if he heard anything about such a creature.
History check: 17
Alistair strums gently on his lyre, soft notes of a tune from long ago that remains tantalizingly out of reach...
Red likewise drifts back into memories of tales told long ago, but can't recall ever hearing of such a creature as this...
Krog will approach the creature with a hand raised in a gesture of peace, “Great Stag, we are honored by your presence. How may we serve you?”
Alistair returns with lyre in hand, frustration furrows his brow. The lyre hangs limply, a silent testament to his failed search. He shakes his head at Krog, a defeated sigh escapes his lips. "I know no songs, no ballads that speak of such a creature. Just glimmers of a melody from long ago, tantalizingly close yet beyond the reach of my fingertips. Seems this magnificent beast is a mystery even to the bards." He glances back at the stag, its gaze unwavering. Perhaps the answer isn't in the past. Perhaps the answer lies in this very moment, in the silence between us. A spark of ambition ignites in his eyes. “Looks like it's up to me to compose the first ballad of the White Stag," he declares. He plucks a gentle and hopeful melody on his lyre. "The ballad of this magnificent creature meeting us, a song that will echo through the ages." He waits eagerly, wondering what song their interaction with this magnificent stag will demand.
The creature cocks it's head slightly to the side, as if considering your group carefully. Then, it makes eye contact with each of you in turn. As you meet it's gaze, each of you feels strengthened in your resolve...almost as if the gods themselves were voicing their approval for your undertaking.
All of you, save for one...
While the rest of you feel warmed and encouraged by the encounter, Alistair feels only a sliver of doubt sending a shudder through his body. He feels the weight of Fierna up on him like an oppressive force. He feels accursed... No, he is a curse... And though his companions may not see it, the creature surely does.
The White Stag bows to your group one last time and then, rising majestically, it turns and bounds back into the darkness.
(For the next 24 hours in game, your characters will have the benefits of the spell Bless, except for Alistair. Any creature that attacks Alistair during the next 24 hours will suffer the penalties of the spell Bane.)
“Well, I’ll be,” says Zeke. “Now that was something special. I feel fit and ready to take on the world.”
And Zeke did feel better. The grey cloud that usually hung over his demeanor was lifted and he felt, well, optimistic about adventuring.
Still, not everything had changed- “Where’s that coffee?”
"Well, that was inspiring," Krog says feeling the blessings pour over him. And unless there are any other visitors, we continue our rest. Then head on toward the Crypt in the morning.
(That is if we still need the rest.)
(Yes, you still need to rest. It was a white stag, not a red bull😁)
(OOC Haha lol! Does that encounter conclude Krog's portion, the first watch of the evening?)
(Ooc: LOL! 😂 One point inspiration to Grover so long as he uses the point well! I guess Zeke would have known it was the middle of the night still and nor requested coffee. Good job Krog/Marza for keeping track of time!)
(The Stag arrived during the second hour of Krog's watch. In the interest of moving things along...)
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, with only the ordinary sounds of ordinary animals to break the monotony for those keeping watch. You awake the next morning fully refreshed and ready to continue your journey into the woods, after a quick discussion amongst yourselves about who will be leading the way...
(Leader will need to make a Survival check, with advantage from the map, to keep you on track. If I could get a rough "order of march" for the group and a perception check from everyone else as well, please.)
“Hey Red,” asks Zeke. “You up for scouting a bit in advance of this party? My two lead feet will give a lot of advance notice if I’m in front. I’m sure we could have a bow or two at the ready if it looks like you need help quickly.”
Zeke is thinking that he and the two half-orcs have some useful skills but stealth is unlikely to be one of them. Red as the smallest and lightest might be good at this sort of thing. However, he has never asked Red before about his willingness to take on a more exposed position.
" I am up for some stealth scouting ahead , I think I will be fine for a while even if abused, but I really doubt anyone will be able to spot me "