It was early evening in Havenford. Cobblestoned streets, worn smooth by the passage of time, wound their way through the heart of the town, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. Amidst the bustle of the marketplace, where vendors hastily packed their wares for the night, the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer resonated like a heartbeat, echoing through the narrow alleys. Beyond the hustle and bustle, the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the savory aroma of roasting meats, drawing weary travelers and locals alike to the welcoming embrace of the tavern.
Yet beneath the surface of this idyllic scene lingered whispers of untold secrets and hidden truths. The town's sturdy stone keep, Stormshield Hall, stood silhouetted against the fading light of dusk, its weathered walls standing as sentinel and bearing witness to the trials and tribulations of a life humans had forged for themselves at the frontier.
Yaudara strode forward with the sturdy, purposeful gait of a seasoned soldier, his chain mail armor gleaming in the fading sunlight. As he beheld the noble hall and sturdy barracks, memories of his days as a soldier came flooding back, stirring a sense of familiarity and kinship within him.
After the paladin, the townsfolk of Havenford cast nervous glances toward a different newcomer as a death cleric also made his way into town. Their whispers trailed in his wake like tendrils of mist. To them, this tiefling represented an unsettling reminder of the unknown, although if it was his infernal heritage ... or the fact that he revered death and what-comes-after ... Ichep could not say. Whether it was one cause or the other — or a combination of both perhaps — to Ichep it was clear, his very presence stirred unease in the hearts of the townsfolk.
With each step, Balen recalled the bitter taste of salt spray and the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the pirate ship that was once his prison. It had been quite some time since his life was in danger ... but old habits died hard. His gaze, sharp and wary, scanned the bustling marketplace for any signs of danger or deceit, a skill honed through years of survival aboard the vessel.
Toadstool's towering form was both imposing and serene. Despite his massive frame and orcish heritage, there was a gentle warmth in his eyes and a softness to his movements that set him apart from the brutish stereotypes of his kind. The townsfolk of Havenford still cast curious glances his way, however, as Toadstool walked among them. To them, Toadstool was a physical representation of what lay beyond their gates ... namely ... the untamed wilds of the frontier.
Lastly, as he stood on the threshold of Havenford, the bard Faen carried with him the fey echoes of his past. By his very nature, half elf walked with a foot in two worlds; one human and one elven. If only the townsfolk of Havenford actually knew how literally true that had been for Faen. For him, it was no metaphor ... he actually had walked in two different worlds. That time was behind him now, and Faen once again walked in the world of men, exhilarated with the promise of new beginnings. Upon entering Havenford, somewhere deep in his soul, the bard felt the pull of Havenford's nearby grove like a siren song. It was as if the ley lines that existed deep within the land were signing to him, calling him home. The air itself seemed to thrum with undercurrents and eddies of magic and wonder.
OOC — We are live, gang! Please feel free to introduce your character, and in your first few posts, make an effort to describe them physically so that the other players and I know what it is that you had in mind for your PC.
Faen Galanodel was of a tall but lean build, with dark brown hair that cascaded in waves down to just below his shoulder, and a soft tan skin with subtle green undertones. He wore cognac leather armor over crimson gambeson, a matching leather-and-gambesons skirt, and flowing amber pants that bunched near the top of his calf where his laced boots began. Over his back was draped an dark green cloak, and his shoulders braced the weight of a backpack and his most-precious viol.
His eyes were closed for a moment as he drank in the ambience of Havenford's evening, his heart beating in exhilaration as he could practically smell the adventure in the air. It was an excitement that he had felt previously, a feeling that kept his mood ever-light and his feet ever-moving to find new lands to explore. He drank too deeply however, and found again the bitter-sweet ache at the bottom of his metaphorical draught, his gold eyes opening as he tries to push the longing for his former Feywild home away. His beloved Selûne had yet to rise.
"Every caged songbirds deserves to fly free," thinks Faen to himself as he started to move deeper the frontier, "even if his cage is gilded." He both feared and loved that magical land that he had called his home for so very long, but he wanted to find a new home...a new purpose. For brief moments in his travels, he had gained some short glimpses of respite, but the feeling of wanting returned, and with it, his boots found another road to wander.
Faen started to hum to himself a whimsical tune, trying to cast the tendrils of uncertainty out of his mind as he started to move through the cobblestone streets, his movements graceful, if slightly uncanny. Any sense of uneasiness from the locals was ignored by Faen, with his focus instead being just basking in everything around him, his eyes shimmering with a sense of child-like wonder that had yet to be extinguished.
"And every songbird must also feed," he thought to himself, his nose having picked up the smell of the tavern, especially alluring after having been on the road for a few weeks He starts to move in that direction, hoping to get a better understanding of Havenford as he observed people over a hot meal.
Rhythmic beats of hooves clopping on the cobblestoned streets mixed with the gentle clinging of the scales of armor that lay underneath Ichep's intricately woven priestly robes.
Tales had made it to his ears about a welcoming town, free of prejudice, a paradise really. Stories rarely live up to themselves therefore it surprised him little to see suspicious and caution in the eyes of the townsfolk. „Not a single stone or pitchfork, that ought to place this town in the top 10 at least.“ Optimism, oh yes, not his strength indeed. Neither was keeping his mouth shut, he had mumbled loud enough for curious ears to hear. Ra was leaving thus the night came upon the lands. Darkness did not unsettle Ichep much but the possibility of missing a warm meal, after the arduous journey that led him here, did.
Ichep took notice of what might be a whistling human or elf - he could not tell - striding in the same direction as him with an utterly eerie elegance, his head in the clouds or a dream maybe, he seemed to be entranced with everything around him and yet not fully paying attention. Ichep felt his eyebrows raising. Maybe he had faulted people too quickly for judging others. He looked for a potentially kind soul to enter the tavern with - to lessen the odds of being denied service - and his eyes locked with someone else's...
OOC: ... that being the next character to post hopefully :D
Yaudara strode through Havenford, taking in the foreign architecture and glances as he weaved through the marketplace. Different sights and smells, but the same underlying chaos as faraway Ekhaya, so the bustle held a certain comfort, as well as a tinge of pain when he thought of his father's fish stall.
If the people took note of his short stature, his yklwa, his sandals, the bangles adorning his arms at the ends of his chain mail, or the subtle curves of the golden lion on his shield, they kept any reservations hidden, which wasn't surprising given this town's position on the edge of the unknown, but he also didn't see any flashes of recognition, so there may not be anyone here with hints as to his mother's fate, either.
He also saw the elaborately dressed tiefling nearing the tavern Yaudara approached, and returned the smile. This town welcomes all kinds, apparently, and this evening may have just gotten more interesting. "Hello, friend. Were you looking for a drink and a meal as well?"
Toadstool stood in front of a tavern rather clueless of what to do. He had been living in his grotto for the past 10 years at least. The only "people" he had met recently were some goblins from which he bought his leather armor.
But when looking at Toadstool, you couldn't really tell that he had armor, because he was covered in deer, fox and beaver pelts. Some branches, lichen and moss were stuck in those pelts. By his side you could see a "quarterstaff" that he used as a walking stick. Quarterstaff for a massive orc, but tiny log for the smaller folk.
He nervously looked around and put some berries in his mouth from his side pouch. And then heard a beatiful tune comming from a tiny person. The melody was so nice that he tried to make his best blackbird whistle he could to play along.
Balen had woken up that day in a fit, smacking his head on the side of his canoe that doubled as his bed/entire house. If he had a coin for every time he'd had a head injury by now he'd be ric... well, at least, able to buy a better boat. The changeling stretched (incredibly dramatically) before hopping out of the makeshift bed and grabbing his satchel, he threw a tarp over the canoe he'd just slept in, leaving it docked by some inn he didn't bother nor want to pay rent to.
It turns out, judging by the sun, he had slept through the early part of the day. Just great. Half the day gone to sell some wares. It was fine, he guessed, to have a late start. He had wandered over here late yesterday in hopes of selling some of his random garbage or trinkets he'd 'collected' over the past few weeks. But something else was calling him over, and he didn't know what. He also didn't care to know what. He just decided to make the most of it.
He basked in the low glow of the marketplace. The light chatter and the clang of a hammer fell like music to his ears. It's anonymity and the air of mystery of it all flowed right well through his roguish dark bluish cloak and leather armor. He cracked a smile about his own little power trip. He could be anything. Say anything. Do anything. Nothing and everything mattered at in this moment. The world was at your fingertips. And it was beautiful. But instead, the pang of hunger was much more apparent and he had things to sell. Balen eyed the marketplace intensely. He caught sight of humans and few other fellows and became much more aware of his unkept appearance. He ran his fingers through his knotty hair to fluff it before stepping out of the alleyway. That being said, keeping on his changeling appearance he didn't bother him much. He could care less.
Balen squinted at the landscape before him for those too far were only colorful blobs to him. He honed in on someone whistling, sliding in on the scene. The guy looked so, human, maybe? He didn't care to tell. What stood out was that he much more elegant than he was. And Balen was not going to let the fact boil over that the man seemed so much taller than him, but it still simmered in his mind. Just the perfect target. Probably has some good money.
"Ay, kid," Balen calls out, stepping out in front of him, "Wanna buy anything? I got too much stuff, and everything must go!" He opened his satchel to reveal a bunch of books and other various trinkets. Opening up his cloak, there was also pockets stitched along the linings with things flowing out of it. "Watcha you say? Anything you like?"
He looked over to his side to also see an orc (wow that's big. He took a second to pause) by the side of the tavern as well, shifting his attention between the two and showing off his random collection of stuff. "Ay you too, big guy. Anything you'd like to buy?"
"Haha whoa," The changeling drly chuckled, nearly jumping at the sight of the tusks and expecting them to hit him before he realized he was too short. Little guy, psft okay. Thanks. He tried hard not to glare at the other.
Balen rummaged through his bag and cloak to thing of anything that might be of interest. "I dunno, books, potpurri, some perfume - I make those myself - uh little knick-knacks I've found. A candle, a bell? And a drawing I did?" He really should make sure double check before selling. He shrugs, "You like?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
"I'm sorry, but you are small. Uuuuum I could trade that bell if it makes a nice sound for a pound of blackberries. Picked them myself on my way here."
Toadstool starts rummaging through his sidepouch and shows the slightly mashed blackberries to Balen.
At the short comment, Balen really was struggling hard to hold his tongue. YOU'RE TOO TALL. YOU UGLY- His inner thoughts shouted. If this were a cartoon there would have been a black tumbleweed-like squiggly reverberating in this thought bubble. Instead, he started to tap his foot impatiently.
"Sure," he said, masking his hesitation. He reaches into his bag to give Toadstool the bell. "If it sounds good? Yeah, I think so." He rang it a little and it made a slightly nice tune. He eyed the blackberries greedily. Mushed or not, it was better than an empty stomach.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
As the heroes chatted and got to know one another, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the land, and a faint rumbling began to echo throughout the streets and alleys of the town. At first, it was barely noticeable, dismissed as nothing more than the usual sounds of a bustling city. However, as the minutes passed, the rumbling grew louder and more pronounced, causing windows to rattle and doors to creak on their hinges.
At the edge of town, a crowd began to gather, drawn by the strange and ominous noise. People whispered fearfully to one another, their voices tinged with anxiety and uncertainty. Some clutched their children tightly, while others gripped weapons with white-knuckled hands.
Yaudara, Ichep, and Faen had been just about to enter the Swiftfoot Lodge when they heard the rumbling and saw the crowd gather.
Nearby, Balen and Toadstool had been good-naturedly haggling over trinkets and berries when they heard the rumbling and saw the crowd gather. They also noticed that a few large trees in the neighboring forest had begun to lurch and sway. One had even fallen! This was the source of the terrible rumbling ... and something was just outside of town toppling these huge hardwoods as if they were nothing more than children's playthings.
OOC — The group is essentially in two different groups, both within sight of each other. Everyone hears what is going on and sees that a crowd is forming. In addition, Balen and Toadstool are a bit closer and they both see that some of the trees have swayed / toppled. [Passive Perception DC14 to notice, and Toadstool was granted advantage due to being a druid]
Yaudara turns toward the noise, focusing primarily on the families, on the fear in their eyes and the protection of their children. "Something is afoot," he mutters, gripping his yklwa and striding toward the crowd. "Torm, be with me."
Ichep smiled as the approaching stranger called him a friend. Several things about the stranger's appearance denoted that he was not simple townsfolk. He carried an unusual weapon - some sort of spear - with him and wore sandals instead of... shoes (Ichep was no expert on what one would wear on feet). Most of all his gaze lingered on the bangles though. „Hello, indeed I have! Say, you look as if you have come from lands just as foreign as mine, where do you hail from?“ Ichep's eyes wandered to the man's shield.„A man of faith as well as it seems. I'll gladly pay your meal in exchange for your story. What do you s-“ He stopped abruptly when the sound that prior seemed like nothing more than some background rumble grew louder... and threatening. Rattling windows, creaking doors, a shiver ran down his spine. He knew the sound of death approaching. Ichep gazed towards the crowd. „Death may visit us today, shall we go to greet it?“, he asked the friendly stranger who he did not take for a coward. Then Ichep moved in hurried big steps towards the crowd driven by his curiosity.
Faen had stopped mid-stride as he had heard the bird mimicry and the bell chime from Toadstool, he easily taking delight in such noises. He smiles as he looks around for the source, having gotten temporarily distracted from his search for food; his child-like curiosity has gotten the best of him. Such occasional lapses in self-awareness were often minor and rarely caused much issue, save for some annoyed glances from those inconvenienced.
However, this momentary whimsy drifts away from him as he happens to feel the tremble of the ground and, looking passed Toadstool and his new, shiny bell, seeing the crowd of people that had started to gather near the gate that he had, just moments before, ventured through. Further, the movement of the paladin and cleric also guide his eye in the direction of the crowd.
His humming stopped, and instead he said to himself, "I haven't heard a din like that since I happened upon that great treant migration. What is going on?" While he may be starving, he would rather be hungry than flattened under a wandering trees' roots (or whatever creatures that seem to be approaching). He starts to try to get closer.
He strained his eyes and trying to use his height (6'3'') to maybe find a break in the sea of people to figure out what's going on. He kept his hand on the pommel of his rapier, wanting it close in case he would have to draw it.
OOC -- Perception roll: 17 + 0 = 17. Hopefully I did that right, as Faen is actively trying to see as compared to passive. Feel free to correct me on how and when I roll.
Also, edited because I didn't see the latest posts about Ichep and Yaudara to see that they'd reacted. Got it after I refreshed the page. Further, apologies for my change of tenses sometimes while writing, but I am trying to keep it consistent to everyone else.
"Oh no, no, no... That's no good... This never leads to no good..." Toadstool mutters and puts away his bell in his pouch.
"The forest is disturbed, wha-what would cause such thing... Oh no, what's happening there..." Toadstool pants and moves forward to the crowd. His pelts are swinging and his quarterstaff is thudding on the ground with each step.
On his way there Toadstool seems to unknowingly start walking together with Faen, Yaudara and Ichep. All the time Toadstool just keeps muttering the same lines over and over again.
As Toadstool is at least a foot taller than everyone else, he desperately tries to see what's going on.
OOC Perception check rolled on character sheet 6+3=9 (the best result as the DM told me I got advantage).
"Nice doing business with ya," Balen would've tipped his hat if he'd had one. Toadstool's offer of more berries sounded good and he would've taken up the offer if the orc hadn't looked so content with the bell. Just as he was about to move on to another costumer when came that noise. His first thought was that it was his own ear ringing, as was his usual, but this time it was different. It was a low bellow coming from down under -- sounds of the earth. The way the trees had swayed was the most unsettling. Balen just wanted to nope himself out of the situation right now, grabbing onto the wall of the tavern as fear ran through his body like a chill. Maybe it was just a small earthquake, he deduced to himself, things like that happen. It wasn't until his large oafish friend over there with the bell had ran off that things seemed even the more dire. Well that's no good. "Wait-" He called out to no one in particular.
He stood there alone for a minute, scanning the crowd, before deciding it was time to join them. He leisurely took his time to get there, spending the walk squinting around. He hesitated a bit with an internal sigh before tapping Toadstool on the arm, "What's going on 'round 'ere?"
Five heroes assembled themselves in front of the townsfolk that had gathered at the edge of the forest. Peering into the woods ... the quintet saw nothing obvious in the way of threats.
Making their way deeper into the woods — past some of the dense underbrush that denoted the end of the village and the beginning of the woods — the group got a better look at what was going on and saw that a large circular sinkhole had opened up. Big enough to swallow a good sized cottage.
A few of the fallen trees lay tipped - roots exposed - into the yawning chasm. It was these fallen trees that had been making so much noise. Their broad, sturdy trunks ran down at an incline and disappeared into the dark pit beyond.
The group was still many tens of feet away, but from the current vantage point ... the sinkhole looked like it had exposed a small tunnel system. The cause of the sinkhole was decidedly unnatural. Mainly because coming up from the darkness below ... the tell tale flicker of distant torchlight could be seen, and this was accompanied by the sound of eerie chanting.
The group of heroes cautiously advanced upon the yawning sinkhole. The sound of chanting was definitely growing louder now and the intonation of the eerie chanting could be heard a little clearer.
The chant itself was in a foreign language. Undercommon, by the sound if it. A cacophony of guttural sounds, interspersed and intertwined with sinister whispers and haunting melodies. It echoed through the cavernous depths of the sinkhole, reverberating off the walls with an unsettling intensity.
The language of the chant is filled with words of power that resonate with dark magic. The voices rise and fall in a macabre chorus, their words weaving together in a twisted symphony of corruption and despair.
Getting closer to the edge, the group can hear that the voices - and the accompanying flickering of torchlight - are still quite distant. With the sinkhole developing in the midst of a cavern system ... the sound and light emanating from the hole is not directly below the group but coming from deeper tunnels within the earth that the sinkhole fed into.
At the top of the sinkhole, several trees were sprawled at odd angles, their gnarled trunks jutting out over the edge and reaching down like skeletal fingers. The fallen trees formed a makeshift bridge of sorts, their broad trunks providing a precarious path down into the chasm below.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and a sense of unease hung heavy in the stillness of the cavern. Above, the night sky stretched out in a tapestry of twinkling stars ... a stark contrast to the darkness, damp and rot that lurked below.
OOC — At this point, we will begin by tracking things round-by-round. Please include an initiative roll with your next post. Folks may make a Intelligence (Religion) and/or Intelligence (Arcana) roll if they have those skills marked. (For intel-gathering rolls of this nature, I usually do a 'floating DC.' That is, info released at DC10, more info at DC15, even more info at DC20, etc ...). Also, for the games I run, these 'knowledge' sorts of rolls do not count as an action.
You all are standing at the edge of the sinkhole. The trees provide a ramp/bridge of sorts into the level below you. It will take 20' of movement and you must make a DC10 Dexterity [Acrobatics] roll to do so (or risk falling 20' to the floor below).
Alternatively, you could use ropes and such to lower one another. This option is safer, but it will be more time consuming (taking two full rounds of actions/movement to accomplish, but there would be no risk of failure).
VV If your character speaks Undercommon, this is what they hear:
Ha! What a sneaky one you are!
None of the characters — least of all yours — speak Undercommon!
I curse thee with nat 1's in the upcoming encounter ...
Yaudara listens to the chanting as he surveys the opening below and the twisted trees. He doesn't know what the language was, but knows it's evil, and should be dealt with.
"You seem like a brave lot, and it falls to us to make sure this evil stays away from the village. I'll rig up a rope. I'm no good at climbing, and don't want to start this quest with a broken leg." He'll look for a sturdy root our stout branch on a fallen tree to tie his rope to, and then rig the line up for the party.
The changeling didn't know why he continued following the group towards the edge of the sound. He didn't want to get into trouble nor did he care about this town, but curiosity got the best of him as he followed suit. He munched on some berries along the way. He began to feel small among the four and with each twist and turn of the forest he found himself almost panting to catch up each time. By the time they got to the clearing he was nearly exhausted. The sight below didn't help much either.
The eeriness of it all was starting to weight on him (and all he wanted to do was to go back and get his canoe and sail away), but he didn't want to look like that in front of the other guys, so he went straight on ahead. Sideeyeing Yaudara, he declared: "I like your plan, and that's cool and all and you can do it."
"Though, I don't know what's down there-"
((Intelligence Arcana Check: 13 + 1 = 14 ))
"-I'mma gonna go check it out myself." He hops down around through the tree bridge.
It was early evening in Havenford. Cobblestoned streets, worn smooth by the passage of time, wound their way through the heart of the town, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. Amidst the bustle of the marketplace, where vendors hastily packed their wares for the night, the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer resonated like a heartbeat, echoing through the narrow alleys. Beyond the hustle and bustle, the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the savory aroma of roasting meats, drawing weary travelers and locals alike to the welcoming embrace of the tavern.
Yet beneath the surface of this idyllic scene lingered whispers of untold secrets and hidden truths. The town's sturdy stone keep, Stormshield Hall, stood silhouetted against the fading light of dusk, its weathered walls standing as sentinel and bearing witness to the trials and tribulations of a life humans had forged for themselves at the frontier.
Yaudara strode forward with the sturdy, purposeful gait of a seasoned soldier, his chain mail armor gleaming in the fading sunlight. As he beheld the noble hall and sturdy barracks, memories of his days as a soldier came flooding back, stirring a sense of familiarity and kinship within him.
After the paladin, the townsfolk of Havenford cast nervous glances toward a different newcomer as a death cleric also made his way into town. Their whispers trailed in his wake like tendrils of mist. To them, this tiefling represented an unsettling reminder of the unknown, although if it was his infernal heritage ... or the fact that he revered death and what-comes-after ... Ichep could not say. Whether it was one cause or the other — or a combination of both perhaps — to Ichep it was clear, his very presence stirred unease in the hearts of the townsfolk.
With each step, Balen recalled the bitter taste of salt spray and the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the pirate ship that was once his prison. It had been quite some time since his life was in danger ... but old habits died hard. His gaze, sharp and wary, scanned the bustling marketplace for any signs of danger or deceit, a skill honed through years of survival aboard the vessel.
Toadstool's towering form was both imposing and serene. Despite his massive frame and orcish heritage, there was a gentle warmth in his eyes and a softness to his movements that set him apart from the brutish stereotypes of his kind. The townsfolk of Havenford still cast curious glances his way, however, as Toadstool walked among them. To them, Toadstool was a physical representation of what lay beyond their gates ... namely ... the untamed wilds of the frontier.
Lastly, as he stood on the threshold of Havenford, the bard Faen carried with him the fey echoes of his past. By his very nature, half elf walked with a foot in two worlds; one human and one elven. If only the townsfolk of Havenford actually knew how literally true that had been for Faen. For him, it was no metaphor ... he actually had walked in two different worlds. That time was behind him now, and Faen once again walked in the world of men, exhilarated with the promise of new beginnings. Upon entering Havenford, somewhere deep in his soul, the bard felt the pull of Havenford's nearby grove like a siren song. It was as if the ley lines that existed deep within the land were signing to him, calling him home. The air itself seemed to thrum with undercurrents and eddies of magic and wonder.
OOC — We are live, gang! Please feel free to introduce your character, and in your first few posts, make an effort to describe them physically so that the other players and I know what it is that you had in mind for your PC.
Faen Galanodel was of a tall but lean build, with dark brown hair that cascaded in waves down to just below his shoulder, and a soft tan skin with subtle green undertones. He wore cognac leather armor over crimson gambeson, a matching leather-and-gambesons skirt, and flowing amber pants that bunched near the top of his calf where his laced boots began. Over his back was draped an dark green cloak, and his shoulders braced the weight of a backpack and his most-precious viol.
His eyes were closed for a moment as he drank in the ambience of Havenford's evening, his heart beating in exhilaration as he could practically smell the adventure in the air. It was an excitement that he had felt previously, a feeling that kept his mood ever-light and his feet ever-moving to find new lands to explore. He drank too deeply however, and found again the bitter-sweet ache at the bottom of his metaphorical draught, his gold eyes opening as he tries to push the longing for his former Feywild home away. His beloved Selûne had yet to rise.
"Every caged songbirds deserves to fly free," thinks Faen to himself as he started to move deeper the frontier, "even if his cage is gilded." He both feared and loved that magical land that he had called his home for so very long, but he wanted to find a new home...a new purpose. For brief moments in his travels, he had gained some short glimpses of respite, but the feeling of wanting returned, and with it, his boots found another road to wander.
Faen started to hum to himself a whimsical tune, trying to cast the tendrils of uncertainty out of his mind as he started to move through the cobblestone streets, his movements graceful, if slightly uncanny. Any sense of uneasiness from the locals was ignored by Faen, with his focus instead being just basking in everything around him, his eyes shimmering with a sense of child-like wonder that had yet to be extinguished.
"And every songbird must also feed," he thought to himself, his nose having picked up the smell of the tavern, especially alluring after having been on the road for a few weeks He starts to move in that direction, hoping to get a better understanding of Havenford as he observed people over a hot meal.
Rhythmic beats of hooves clopping on the cobblestoned streets mixed with the gentle clinging of the scales of armor that lay underneath Ichep's intricately woven priestly robes.
Tales had made it to his ears about a welcoming town, free of prejudice, a paradise really. Stories rarely live up to themselves therefore it surprised him little to see suspicious and caution in the eyes of the townsfolk. „Not a single stone or pitchfork, that ought to place this town in the top 10 at least.“ Optimism, oh yes, not his strength indeed. Neither was keeping his mouth shut, he had mumbled loud enough for curious ears to hear. Ra was leaving thus the night came upon the lands. Darkness did not unsettle Ichep much but the possibility of missing a warm meal, after the arduous journey that led him here, did.
Ichep took notice of what might be a whistling human or elf - he could not tell - striding in the same direction as him with an utterly eerie elegance, his head in the clouds or a dream maybe, he seemed to be entranced with everything around him and yet not fully paying attention. Ichep felt his eyebrows raising. Maybe he had faulted people too quickly for judging others. He looked for a potentially kind soul to enter the tavern with - to lessen the odds of being denied service - and his eyes locked with someone else's...
OOC: ... that being the next character to post hopefully :D
Yaudara strode through Havenford, taking in the foreign architecture and glances as he weaved through the marketplace. Different sights and smells, but the same underlying chaos as faraway Ekhaya, so the bustle held a certain comfort, as well as a tinge of pain when he thought of his father's fish stall.
If the people took note of his short stature, his yklwa, his sandals, the bangles adorning his arms at the ends of his chain mail, or the subtle curves of the golden lion on his shield, they kept any reservations hidden, which wasn't surprising given this town's position on the edge of the unknown, but he also didn't see any flashes of recognition, so there may not be anyone here with hints as to his mother's fate, either.
He also saw the elaborately dressed tiefling nearing the tavern Yaudara approached, and returned the smile. This town welcomes all kinds, apparently, and this evening may have just gotten more interesting. "Hello, friend. Were you looking for a drink and a meal as well?"
Toadstool stood in front of a tavern rather clueless of what to do. He had been living in his grotto for the past 10 years at least. The only "people" he had met recently were some goblins from which he bought his leather armor.
But when looking at Toadstool, you couldn't really tell that he had armor, because he was covered in deer, fox and beaver pelts. Some branches, lichen and moss were stuck in those pelts. By his side you could see a "quarterstaff" that he used as a walking stick. Quarterstaff for a massive orc, but tiny log for the smaller folk.
He nervously looked around and put some berries in his mouth from his side pouch. And then heard a beatiful tune comming from a tiny person. The melody was so nice that he tried to make his best blackbird whistle he could to play along.
Balen had woken up that day in a fit, smacking his head on the side of his canoe that doubled as his bed/entire house. If he had a coin for every time he'd had a head injury by now he'd be ric... well, at least, able to buy a better boat. The changeling stretched (incredibly dramatically) before hopping out of the makeshift bed and grabbing his satchel, he threw a tarp over the canoe he'd just slept in, leaving it docked by some inn he didn't bother nor want to pay rent to.
It turns out, judging by the sun, he had slept through the early part of the day. Just great. Half the day gone to sell some wares. It was fine, he guessed, to have a late start. He had wandered over here late yesterday in hopes of selling some of his random garbage or trinkets he'd 'collected' over the past few weeks. But something else was calling him over, and he didn't know what. He also didn't care to know what. He just decided to make the most of it.
He basked in the low glow of the marketplace. The light chatter and the clang of a hammer fell like music to his ears. It's anonymity and the air of mystery of it all flowed right well through his roguish dark bluish cloak and leather armor. He cracked a smile about his own little power trip. He could be anything. Say anything. Do anything. Nothing and everything mattered at in this moment. The world was at your fingertips. And it was beautiful. But instead, the pang of hunger was much more apparent and he had things to sell. Balen eyed the marketplace intensely. He caught sight of humans and few other fellows and became much more aware of his unkept appearance. He ran his fingers through his knotty hair to fluff it before stepping out of the alleyway. That being said, keeping on his changeling appearance he didn't bother him much. He could care less.
Balen squinted at the landscape before him for those too far were only colorful blobs to him. He honed in on someone whistling, sliding in on the scene. The guy looked so, human, maybe? He didn't care to tell. What stood out was that he much more elegant than he was. And Balen was not going to let the fact boil over that the man seemed so much taller than him, but it still simmered in his mind. Just the perfect target. Probably has some good money.
"Ay, kid," Balen calls out, stepping out in front of him, "Wanna buy anything? I got too much stuff, and everything must go!" He opened his satchel to reveal a bunch of books and other various trinkets. Opening up his cloak, there was also pockets stitched along the linings with things flowing out of it. "Watcha you say? Anything you like?"
He looked over to his side to also see an orc (wow that's big. He took a second to pause) by the side of the tavern as well, shifting his attention between the two and showing off his random collection of stuff. "Ay you too, big guy. Anything you'd like to buy?"
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
Toadstool didn't react to "the big guy" or he had forgotten how to. He just turned his head to the source of sound.
Still whistling a blackbird tune through his massive tusks and overbite he approached the source of speech.
"Excuse me little guy, hello!" and extended his massive palm for a handshake. "What do you have?"
"Haha whoa," The changeling drly chuckled, nearly jumping at the sight of the tusks and expecting them to hit him before he realized he was too short. Little guy, psft okay. Thanks. He tried hard not to glare at the other.
Balen rummaged through his bag and cloak to thing of anything that might be of interest. "I dunno, books, potpurri, some perfume - I make those myself - uh little knick-knacks I've found. A candle, a bell? And a drawing I did?" He really should make sure double check before selling. He shrugs, "You like?"
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
"I'm sorry, but you are small. Uuuuum I could trade that bell if it makes a nice sound for a pound of blackberries. Picked them myself on my way here."
Toadstool starts rummaging through his sidepouch and shows the slightly mashed blackberries to Balen.
At the short comment, Balen really was struggling hard to hold his tongue. YOU'RE TOO TALL. YOU UGLY- His inner thoughts shouted. If this were a cartoon there would have been a black tumbleweed-like squiggly reverberating in this thought bubble. Instead, he started to tap his foot impatiently.
"Sure," he said, masking his hesitation. He reaches into his bag to give Toadstool the bell. "If it sounds good? Yeah, I think so." He rang it a little and it made a slightly nice tune. He eyed the blackberries greedily. Mushed or not, it was better than an empty stomach.
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
"Aaw that's a very nice bell! You can have the berries! Enjoy, they're in the season right now. I have more if you're hungry."
Then Toadstool just takes the bell and looks at it very intensely. Rings it a bit, chuckles. Just zoned out in front of a tavern, happy.
As the heroes chatted and got to know one another, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the land, and a faint rumbling began to echo throughout the streets and alleys of the town. At first, it was barely noticeable, dismissed as nothing more than the usual sounds of a bustling city. However, as the minutes passed, the rumbling grew louder and more pronounced, causing windows to rattle and doors to creak on their hinges.
At the edge of town, a crowd began to gather, drawn by the strange and ominous noise. People whispered fearfully to one another, their voices tinged with anxiety and uncertainty. Some clutched their children tightly, while others gripped weapons with white-knuckled hands.
Yaudara, Ichep, and Faen had been just about to enter the Swiftfoot Lodge when they heard the rumbling and saw the crowd gather.
Nearby, Balen and Toadstool had been good-naturedly haggling over trinkets and berries when they heard the rumbling and saw the crowd gather. They also noticed that a few large trees in the neighboring forest had begun to lurch and sway. One had even fallen! This was the source of the terrible rumbling ... and something was just outside of town toppling these huge hardwoods as if they were nothing more than children's playthings.
OOC — The group is essentially in two different groups, both within sight of each other. Everyone hears what is going on and sees that a crowd is forming. In addition, Balen and Toadstool are a bit closer and they both see that some of the trees have swayed / toppled. [Passive Perception DC14 to notice, and Toadstool was granted advantage due to being a druid]
Yaudara turns toward the noise, focusing primarily on the families, on the fear in their eyes and the protection of their children. "Something is afoot," he mutters, gripping his yklwa and striding toward the crowd. "Torm, be with me."
Ichep smiled as the approaching stranger called him a friend. Several things about the stranger's appearance denoted that he was not simple townsfolk. He carried an unusual weapon - some sort of spear - with him and wore sandals instead of... shoes (Ichep was no expert on what one would wear on feet). Most of all his gaze lingered on the bangles though. „Hello, indeed I have! Say, you look as if you have come from lands just as foreign as mine, where do you hail from?“ Ichep's eyes wandered to the man's shield.„A man of faith as well as it seems. I'll gladly pay your meal in exchange for your story. What do you s-“ He stopped abruptly when the sound that prior seemed like nothing more than some background rumble grew louder... and threatening. Rattling windows, creaking doors, a shiver ran down his spine. He knew the sound of death approaching. Ichep gazed towards the crowd. „Death may visit us today, shall we go to greet it?“, he asked the friendly stranger who he did not take for a coward. Then Ichep moved in hurried big steps towards the crowd driven by his curiosity.
Faen had stopped mid-stride as he had heard the bird mimicry and the bell chime from Toadstool, he easily taking delight in such noises. He smiles as he looks around for the source, having gotten temporarily distracted from his search for food; his child-like curiosity has gotten the best of him. Such occasional lapses in self-awareness were often minor and rarely caused much issue, save for some annoyed glances from those inconvenienced.
However, this momentary whimsy drifts away from him as he happens to feel the tremble of the ground and, looking passed Toadstool and his new, shiny bell, seeing the crowd of people that had started to gather near the gate that he had, just moments before, ventured through. Further, the movement of the paladin and cleric also guide his eye in the direction of the crowd.
His humming stopped, and instead he said to himself, "I haven't heard a din like that since I happened upon that great treant migration. What is going on?" While he may be starving, he would rather be hungry than flattened under a wandering trees' roots (or whatever creatures that seem to be approaching). He starts to try to get closer.
He strained his eyes and trying to use his height (6'3'') to maybe find a break in the sea of people to figure out what's going on. He kept his hand on the pommel of his rapier, wanting it close in case he would have to draw it.
OOC -- Perception roll: 17 + 0 = 17. Hopefully I did that right, as Faen is actively trying to see as compared to passive. Feel free to correct me on how and when I roll.
Also, edited because I didn't see the latest posts about Ichep and Yaudara to see that they'd reacted. Got it after I refreshed the page. Further, apologies for my change of tenses sometimes while writing, but I am trying to keep it consistent to everyone else.
"Oh no, no, no... That's no good... This never leads to no good..." Toadstool mutters and puts away his bell in his pouch.
"The forest is disturbed, wha-what would cause such thing... Oh no, what's happening there..." Toadstool pants and moves forward to the crowd. His pelts are swinging and his quarterstaff is thudding on the ground with each step.
On his way there Toadstool seems to unknowingly start walking together with Faen, Yaudara and Ichep. All the time Toadstool just keeps muttering the same lines over and over again.
As Toadstool is at least a foot taller than everyone else, he desperately tries to see what's going on.
OOC Perception check rolled on character sheet 6+3=9 (the best result as the DM told me I got advantage).
"Nice doing business with ya," Balen would've tipped his hat if he'd had one. Toadstool's offer of more berries sounded good and he would've taken up the offer if the orc hadn't looked so content with the bell. Just as he was about to move on to another costumer when came that noise. His first thought was that it was his own ear ringing, as was his usual, but this time it was different. It was a low bellow coming from down under -- sounds of the earth. The way the trees had swayed was the most unsettling. Balen just wanted to nope himself out of the situation right now, grabbing onto the wall of the tavern as fear ran through his body like a chill. Maybe it was just a small earthquake, he deduced to himself, things like that happen. It wasn't until his large oafish friend over there with the bell had ran off that things seemed even the more dire. Well that's no good. "Wait-" He called out to no one in particular.
He stood there alone for a minute, scanning the crowd, before deciding it was time to join them. He leisurely took his time to get there, spending the walk squinting around. He hesitated a bit with an internal sigh before tapping Toadstool on the arm, "What's going on 'round 'ere?"
((OCC -- Perception Check: 6+4 = 10 ))
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!
Five heroes assembled themselves in front of the townsfolk that had gathered at the edge of the forest. Peering into the woods ... the quintet saw nothing obvious in the way of threats.
Making their way deeper into the woods — past some of the dense underbrush that denoted the end of the village and the beginning of the woods — the group got a better look at what was going on and saw that a large circular sinkhole had opened up. Big enough to swallow a good sized cottage.
A few of the fallen trees lay tipped - roots exposed - into the yawning chasm. It was these fallen trees that had been making so much noise. Their broad, sturdy trunks ran down at an incline and disappeared into the dark pit beyond.
The group was still many tens of feet away, but from the current vantage point ... the sinkhole looked like it had exposed a small tunnel system. The cause of the sinkhole was decidedly unnatural. Mainly because coming up from the darkness below ... the tell tale flicker of distant torchlight could be seen, and this was accompanied by the sound of eerie chanting.
The group of heroes cautiously advanced upon the yawning sinkhole. The sound of chanting was definitely growing louder now and the intonation of the eerie chanting could be heard a little clearer.
The chant itself was in a foreign language. Undercommon, by the sound if it. A cacophony of guttural sounds, interspersed and intertwined with sinister whispers and haunting melodies. It echoed through the cavernous depths of the sinkhole, reverberating off the walls with an unsettling intensity.
The language of the chant is filled with words of power that resonate with dark magic. The voices rise and fall in a macabre chorus, their words weaving together in a twisted symphony of corruption and despair.
Getting closer to the edge, the group can hear that the voices - and the accompanying flickering of torchlight - are still quite distant. With the sinkhole developing in the midst of a cavern system ... the sound and light emanating from the hole is not directly below the group but coming from deeper tunnels within the earth that the sinkhole fed into.
At the top of the sinkhole, several trees were sprawled at odd angles, their gnarled trunks jutting out over the edge and reaching down like skeletal fingers. The fallen trees formed a makeshift bridge of sorts, their broad trunks providing a precarious path down into the chasm below.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and a sense of unease hung heavy in the stillness of the cavern. Above, the night sky stretched out in a tapestry of twinkling stars ... a stark contrast to the darkness, damp and rot that lurked below.
OOC — At this point, we will begin by tracking things round-by-round. Please include an initiative roll with your next post. Folks may make a Intelligence (Religion) and/or Intelligence (Arcana) roll if they have those skills marked. (For intel-gathering rolls of this nature, I usually do a 'floating DC.' That is, info released at DC10, more info at DC15, even more info at DC20, etc ...). Also, for the games I run, these 'knowledge' sorts of rolls do not count as an action.
You all are standing at the edge of the sinkhole. The trees provide a ramp/bridge of sorts into the level below you. It will take 20' of movement and you must make a DC10 Dexterity [Acrobatics] roll to do so (or risk falling 20' to the floor below).
Alternatively, you could use ropes and such to lower one another. This option is safer, but it will be more time consuming (taking two full rounds of actions/movement to accomplish, but there would be no risk of failure).
VV If your character speaks Undercommon, this is what they hear:
Ha! What a sneaky one you are!
None of the characters — least of all yours — speak Undercommon!
I curse thee with nat 1's in the upcoming encounter ...
Yaudara listens to the chanting as he surveys the opening below and the twisted trees. He doesn't know what the language was, but knows it's evil, and should be dealt with.
"You seem like a brave lot, and it falls to us to make sure this evil stays away from the village. I'll rig up a rope. I'm no good at climbing, and don't want to start this quest with a broken leg." He'll look for a sturdy root our stout branch on a fallen tree to tie his rope to, and then rig the line up for the party.
(Initiative: 8)
The changeling didn't know why he continued following the group towards the edge of the sound. He didn't want to get into trouble nor did he care about this town, but curiosity got the best of him as he followed suit. He munched on some berries along the way. He began to feel small among the four and with each twist and turn of the forest he found himself almost panting to catch up each time. By the time they got to the clearing he was nearly exhausted. The sight below didn't help much either.
The eeriness of it all was starting to weight on him (and all he wanted to do was to go back and get his canoe and sail away), but he didn't want to look like that in front of the other guys, so he went straight on ahead. Sideeyeing Yaudara, he declared: "I like your plan, and that's cool and all and you can do it."
"Though, I don't know what's down there-"
((Intelligence Arcana Check: 13 + 1 = 14 ))
"-I'mma gonna go check it out myself." He hops down around through the tree bridge.
((Dexterity: Acrobatics Check 10+4 = 14))
"I'll help with the rope from down there."
Okay, the world presents some problems and we don't know what to do / You've come to find your feelings aren't exactly what you knew.
Chin up! / Don't bet on sinking ships because they'll turn your chips to trash. / You've got to set your sights and hopes on setting not to crash!
The truth can seem quite bleak if you don't make your plans unfurl / But I would not let that mar my opinion of the world!