The goblin watches the exchange with curiosity, but no interest in introducing himself. He knew that look all too well, and he wanted none of what was probably going to happen. If that man had trouble with adventurers, then what would they think of him? He marches down the road past the conversation, his costume tail dragging audibly in the muddy road as he makes his way in the indicated direction of the tavern.
Dark clouds darken the sky, dark shadows darken Artos hearth. The fire genasi walks hardly through the heavy trail. Not that so adversing environmental conditions could threatened his limbs more then his own thoughts. What a joke of fate? he thinks , this heavy rain runs on his skin like bloody tears of water's elemental, Are you already there? ask Artos to the sky.
An unspotted sentient creature settled aside of the trail, would see a young man, traveling slowly under the torrential rain, almost blinded to the deep darkness, wandering step by step on the heavy terrain, wearing only a pair of worn out brown leather pants and likewise bandages on his forearms, curled up under his heavy cloak, trying to occupy as little space as possible.
That creature will remember him, perhaps, for his short, fire red curly hair and his brace eyes, literally flashing at thunders rhytm.
Artos lowers his gaze to his right hand, he hold a refined bracelet adorned with several blu weaves resembling the broad spectrum of sea colors. He holds it, almost whitening his knuckles, then wear it, on his right wrist. He look forward towards the town and try to keep the pace up to reach those lights.
As Komoi begins walking away, the sound of his tail dragging messily in the mud catches the commoner's ear. He narrows his eyes and stands up on his tippy toes to peer over Warren's shoulder. A sharp gasp escapes from his lips, and he points at the creature walking northward. "GOBLIN!!!" the man shouts, before quickly closing the door in-front of Warren. Warren can hear the sound of thick, heavy locks being pulled in place on the other side.
Komoi proceeds on forward northward after this. It's quite a small town, so it's not long before he comes across a decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
When he steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
Komoi marches up to the bartender with a large grin and a gold coin already in hand. He had found in his past dealings with tavern owners, that having money already out gave him a better chance of avoiding a broom to the face. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. He clears his throat to get her attention, the head of his costume the only thing that barely crests the top of the bar. He stands on the tips of his toes in order to place the coin on the bar top.
"You must be Greedy with a dragon hoard. I heard your tavern was the only one left in this town. Is it called the 'Hellhole?' That's a nice name. Can I eat at your 'Hellhole', Miss Greedy?"
The unblinking button eye of the goblin's costume stares at the tavern keeper as it bobs with each of the goblins words, almost comically making it seem like the plush hood was doing the talking.
As Artos holds the necklace tighter, whitens his knuckles, he remembers the last time he squeezed his hand so tight. It was dark, with only the moonlight pouring in through the window to light his vision. He felt hot, but not uncomfortably so. Not yet at least. He sees Sheever underneath him, her eyes dazed and her cheeks warm and flushed. His grip on her wrist then tightens, and the scent of burning flesh fills the air. Sheever screams in pain.
When he arises from his flashback, his cheeks are hot and his forehead burns, like he was sick with a fever. The heat slowly diminishes down, but something tells him that it may be a good idea to get indoors before he gets a real fever.
As Artos scales up the trail, he finds the track thick and muddy, the ground pudding underneath his feet. He does his best to keep up his pace and trudge on however, through the rain and the wind.
Muddy Trail. Anyone traveling on this path must succeed on a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw or the ground acts as difficult terrain, as the slippery mud slows your ascent.
Artos continues traveling at a normal pace up to town, moving at 300 feet per minute. He has a +2 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Artos's trip will be at 150 feet per minute instead, and take 6 minutes instead, if he decides to keep on the trail.
Artos makes a Dexterity saving throw! 1d20 + 2 = 10
Artos find the travel slow and treacherous, with the mud a constant battle back against his feet. It turns into sludge underneath him, making it a constant battle to gain ground. However, he proves victorious over the mud, just barely, and he makes it up toward the town.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and he gains his first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. He immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
The rain drips down around Artos, and the cold begins to bite harder at him. He believes he can stay out much longer without risking sickness.
Artos's trip takes 3 minutes. He has 7 minutes before he is required to make his first saving throw.
Upon hearing "Goblin!", Warren turns around, hand at his blade. But what he saw was not typical of a goblin. In fact, he seemed quite endearing. The fact that a goblin was just meandering along in a town was enough for Warren to take his hand off the sword. He was suprised to say the least. Warren followed the road upward of what he was told, unintentionally following the goblin, and looks along the streets at a normal pace. He saw commoner after commoner in their own state of affliction. It hurt to look at them all. Rather than heed the crestfallen man's words, Warren makes a promise to himself that he will make this place better, give these people a glimmer of hope in the encroaching darkness... Or die trying.
"I care not if I fall tomorrow, I will do what I can to help these people."
However, now was not the time. He needed rest and shelter, just like anyone, and forgoing it would speed him to his untimely demise.
Warren is going at a medium pace, looking around at the common folk to see where they are going with the water, but ending the trail at the tavern and memorizing where they go, if they go farther than the tavern. He'll survey his surroundings once he gets in the tavern.
Disoriented and cold, Orryn buries himself deep within his bedroll. Only his eyes remain exposed. Off in the distance, he could make out a storm obscured form, almost certainly humanoid but as soon as he sees it appear, it vanishes. Before Orryn closes his eyes to brace against the storm he takes his dagger and carves an arrow in the direction of the figure. Perhaps it could be a helpful ally, or perhaps it was never there at all. Either way he makes a mental note to investigate the matter after the storm breaks.
Orryn buries himself deep within the bedroll and braces against the cold. As soon as the storm breaks he makes the plan to follow the figures trail.
Orryn rolls a constitution save with advantage against the cold of the storm?
Lucette follows along the path, moving further up the trail. However, she finds the trail wet and mushy and slippery, pulling back at her feet like the souls of the undead clinging to her boots. It takes considerable effort to move through this without falling over, and considerable more to avoid being slowed down.
Muddy Trail. Anyone traveling on this path must succeed on a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw or the ground acts as difficult terrain, as the slippery mud slows your ascent.
Lucette begins traveling at a normal pace up to town, moving at 300 feet per minute. She has a +0 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Lucette's trip will be at 150 feet per minute instead, and take 6 minutes instead of 3.
Lucette Riedell Britton makes a Dexterity saving throw! 1d20 + 0 = 14
However, she's able to push on through, braving the wind and the storm to go on ahead.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and she gains her first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. She immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
Lucette feels she is currently doing well. Her feet are weary and tired, but she could likely brave the weather longer without fear of contracting sickness should she want to.
Lucette's trip takes 3 minutes. She has 7 minutes before she is required to make her first saving throw.
The tavern wench slams a tankard of ale, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then glares at Komoi. She looks up, then down him, then back up, taking in the odd sight of this... thing. Her eyes don't unnarrow from their hard gaze, but she takes an exceptionally long time to take him in before speaking.
"The 'ell are you? An ugly boy with a costume?" She asks, her voice the texture of grinding granite. One of the dwarves calls for ale, and she slides down the one in her hand. She pours out another tankard without looking, her eyes still completely focused on him.
Beth clears her throat. "Call 'et whatever you want," she says. From the tone of her voice, it sounds like she's quite the avid smoker. "As long as 'yer paying. We got some delicious horse meat in the back. Real fine quality st'uff."
Warren proceeds forward, going along the path. He eventually comes across the same decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
When he steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration. Standing on his tippy toes is a goblin, just barely high enough to crest the bar.
The wench appears to be talking to the goblin. He comes in just in time to catch the end of, "... in the back. Real fine quality st'uff." Her voice has the texture of two rocks grating next to each other.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
Komoi adds a second coin to the first, his large mouth flashing his sharp teeth as he nods. The motion of his confirmation causes the plush hood to bounce chaotically in the air and spatter the ground with droplets of muddy water.
"Great! I would like a meal and a room at the Hellhole please."Komoi replies, seemingly skipping over the first question. He had learned to let whoever believe whatever as long as they weren't using those pesky brooms on him. He really hated brooms. The goblin turns about face and marches towards one of the tables, his bright eye catching the same overtly armored individual as before. The goblin climbs up into his seat, his smaller frame looking comical in the chair. The tabletop sits at the goblin's chin, the hood staring inanimately over the top at the room.
Komoi's stomach growls at the prospect of good meat. Horse meat especially sounded tasty, as the goblin was rarely able to eat above scrap quality food. He hoped it wouldn't end up costing him too much of his precious gold. He had a hoard of his own to gather after all. It was his dragonly duty, and every coin counted.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Orryn:
After about 10 minutes of huddling it out in the cold, the storm does indeed lessen a bit. The curtains have rain seem to have ebbed and the wind slowing down. It does not appear it is coming to a stop, from the thick storm clouds still rumbling overhead, but it appears to at least be a short respite. He can hear quite a bit better now, despite the thick pattering of rain, and he's not being picked up by his feet.
It does not seem long before the wind will be picking up again. Taking advantage of the storm's respite, Orryn zips forward, running after the figure. However, as he moves out, he finds that the trail is long and muddy, and threatens to slip him at every step. His patience pays out however, and it's considerably easier to traverse than earlier.
Torrential Storm. Orryn passes his Constitution saving throw against Torrential Storm. The DC is now 11.
Strong Wind. The strong wind pauses for 8 minutes. It then returns afterwards.
Muddy Trail. Anyone traveling on this path must succeed on a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw or the ground acts as difficult terrain, as the slippery mud slows your ascent. Orryn has advantage on this Dexterity saving throw.
Orryn travels at a fast pace up to town, moving at 400 feet per minute. He has a +4 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Orryns trip will be at 200 feet per minute instead, and take 4 minutes, 30 seconds instead.
Orryn makes a Dexterity saving throw! 1d20 + 4 = 24
Unique Inspirations. Despite how powerful regular inspirations can be, you can only have one at a time. To mediate this, you may be given unique inspirations as well for good roleplay or as quest rewards. There is no limit to the number of unique inspirations you can have. Unique inspirations often have certain circumstances that they can only be used, but may include other benefits as well.
Inspiration: Father's Wisdom When you make an Intelligence or Wisdom check, you can expend this inspiration to gain advantage on the roll. If you succeed on the check, you learn a secret or additional information that you would not have previously known if you simply succeeded. You must declare the use of this inspiration before making your check.
Orryn masterfully traverses on down the path, moving significantly easier than any of the previous travelers before him. He seamlessly makes it up to the town without any trouble or mud on his shirt.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and he gains his first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. He immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
Orryn feels quite well, and the wind does not appear to be picking up for some time. He feels he could explore around more before the storm kicks in, if he wishes.
Orryn's trip takes 2 minutes, 15 seconds. He has 7 minutes, 45 seconds before he is required to make his second saving throw.
"Two coppers for the meal, one for the room," the woman says in her half-growl, half-slur of a voice. "Two more coppers and ya get free refills on drinks for 'da night."
The woman scowls as the goblin splatters water on her floors. Her eyes avert downward, stares down at the puddle that was slowly collecting off the goblin's naked body. She thinks about calling someone to clean it, but holds on the thought and pours another ale for the dwarves at the corner. They let a satisfied grunt and nod at the bartender before continuing away at their drinks.
Breathing heavily, and finally in the town - she was panting a little heavily, her keen eyes taking in the details of the town around her. From the damages of deep scratches to the rundown houses. Likely signs of attacks, the lack of repairs and too little coin to help the repairs get going and pay for laborers. This might not be the place after all, given how much her destination was told had coin in it every other foot.
Taking the western path, she does not run now but is instead walking at a brisk pace - looking around for either militia, guards or commoners to help her find an inn where she can get warm for the night. Or perhaps even find the inn on her own, given the fact that she had absolutely no idea what town this might actually be. She saw no signs along her run here - to Tamara's own fault, but she couldn't dally on that. She needed food, a room to stay - and information.
Tamara is going to take the western path and circle around to go down each alleyway she can find as well - not leaving a street or off-shute path way alone for her to find something she could gather information from.
Tamara moves briskly up the western path, then begins her search. It doesn't appear to be any armored men or guardhouses of the sort, just houses upon houses. She finds several stores closer toward the main square of the northern town, but many of them are barred with thick, wooden planks over the windows or gated off or chained. She sees the statue of a man in the center of the northern square, but she can't quite make it out of the darkness and from the distance.
A boom of thunder echoes overhead, and a shiver runs through Tamara's body. The weather seems to be pulling at her defenses now, and it doesn't seem long before she would be susceptible to it.
She does spot one of the things she is looking for however, an inn. She comes across a decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
The results of Tamara's check will be PMed to you. In addition, her investigation has taken 5 minutes. She has 2 minutes, 45 seconds before she is required to make her first saving throw.
She takes great care to note of every sort of oddity in this town, before swiftly pushing towards the inn. With soaked clothes and boots with a shiver running through her body - she runs toward the inn and immediately goes up the small steps to the door - grabbing the handle and pushing it open to step inside of the building. Once Tamara was inside, she'd close the door quickly too to make sure that there was no cold air or rain drifting into the building.
With that said and done - her eyes began looking around the place. through the somewhat water covered goggles. Seeing as that was more of a hassle than gazing normally, she tugs at them and pulls them up from under the hood, letting them rest against her forehead, revealing her chocolate colored eyes and bronze/tanned smooth face.
When she steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment. There is an short, odd looking creature sitting in one of the booths, with grey skin, crimson eyes, and is wearing a dragon costume.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration.
Standing near the front of the room is a fully-armored man, with a beautiful shield and a gleaming longsword at his side. He too seems to be surveying the place from the sidelines.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
Tamara, Komoi, and Warren are free to roleplay with each other.
The goblin sits alone with his drum on top of the table before him. He leans to the side of his chair and squeezes the plush dragon hood which unleashes a stream of water to splash on the floor. He looks down at it with curiosity before patting the head of the hood and sitting up straight once more. He waits for his meal patiently and looks at the inhabitants of the tavern curiously. His bright eyes even look at the woman that enters the tavern before moving on to look at the two teenagers. He tilts his head, wondering why they're biting each other.
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The goblin watches the exchange with curiosity, but no interest in introducing himself. He knew that look all too well, and he wanted none of what was probably going to happen. If that man had trouble with adventurers, then what would they think of him? He marches down the road past the conversation, his costume tail dragging audibly in the muddy road as he makes his way in the indicated direction of the tavern.
Dark clouds darken the sky, dark shadows darken Artos hearth. The fire genasi walks hardly through the heavy trail. Not that so adversing environmental conditions could threatened his limbs more then his own thoughts. What a joke of fate? he thinks , this heavy rain runs on his skin like bloody tears of water's elemental, Are you already there? ask Artos to the sky.
An unspotted sentient creature settled aside of the trail, would see a young man, traveling slowly under the torrential rain, almost blinded to the deep darkness, wandering step by step on the heavy terrain, wearing only a pair of worn out brown leather pants and likewise bandages on his forearms, curled up under his heavy cloak, trying to occupy as little space as possible.
That creature will remember him, perhaps, for his short, fire red curly hair and his brace eyes, literally flashing at thunders rhytm.
Artos lowers his gaze to his right hand, he hold a refined bracelet adorned with several blu weaves resembling the broad spectrum of sea colors. He holds it, almost whitening his knuckles, then wear it, on his right wrist. He look forward towards the town and try to keep the pace up to reach those lights.
Komoi and Warren:
As Komoi begins walking away, the sound of his tail dragging messily in the mud catches the commoner's ear. He narrows his eyes and stands up on his tippy toes to peer over Warren's shoulder. A sharp gasp escapes from his lips, and he points at the creature walking northward. "GOBLIN!!!" the man shouts, before quickly closing the door in-front of Warren. Warren can hear the sound of thick, heavy locks being pulled in place on the other side.
Komoi proceeds on forward northward after this. It's quite a small town, so it's not long before he comes across a decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
When he steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
Lucette pays no attention to the man, continuing along the path and making her way to the village, looking for somewhere—anywhere—to take shelter.
Komoi marches up to the bartender with a large grin and a gold coin already in hand. He had found in his past dealings with tavern owners, that having money already out gave him a better chance of avoiding a broom to the face. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. He clears his throat to get her attention, the head of his costume the only thing that barely crests the top of the bar. He stands on the tips of his toes in order to place the coin on the bar top.
"You must be Greedy with a dragon hoard. I heard your tavern was the only one left in this town. Is it called the 'Hellhole?' That's a nice name. Can I eat at your 'Hellhole', Miss Greedy?"
The unblinking button eye of the goblin's costume stares at the tavern keeper as it bobs with each of the goblins words, almost comically making it seem like the plush hood was doing the talking.
Artos:
As Artos holds the necklace tighter, whitens his knuckles, he remembers the last time he squeezed his hand so tight. It was dark, with only the moonlight pouring in through the window to light his vision. He felt hot, but not uncomfortably so. Not yet at least. He sees Sheever underneath him, her eyes dazed and her cheeks warm and flushed. His grip on her wrist then tightens, and the scent of burning flesh fills the air. Sheever screams in pain.
When he arises from his flashback, his cheeks are hot and his forehead burns, like he was sick with a fever. The heat slowly diminishes down, but something tells him that it may be a good idea to get indoors before he gets a real fever.
As Artos scales up the trail, he finds the track thick and muddy, the ground pudding underneath his feet. He does his best to keep up his pace and trudge on however, through the rain and the wind.
Artos continues traveling at a normal pace up to town, moving at 300 feet per minute. He has a +2 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Artos's trip will be at 150 feet per minute instead, and take 6 minutes instead, if he decides to keep on the trail.
Artos makes a Dexterity saving throw!
1d20 + 2 = 10
Artos find the travel slow and treacherous, with the mud a constant battle back against his feet. It turns into sludge underneath him, making it a constant battle to gain ground. However, he proves victorious over the mud, just barely, and he makes it up toward the town.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and he gains his first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. He immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
The rain drips down around Artos, and the cold begins to bite harder at him. He believes he can stay out much longer without risking sickness.
Upon hearing "Goblin!", Warren turns around, hand at his blade. But what he saw was not typical of a goblin. In fact, he seemed quite endearing. The fact that a goblin was just meandering along in a town was enough for Warren to take his hand off the sword. He was suprised to say the least. Warren followed the road upward of what he was told, unintentionally following the goblin, and looks along the streets at a normal pace. He saw commoner after commoner in their own state of affliction. It hurt to look at them all. Rather than heed the crestfallen man's words, Warren makes a promise to himself that he will make this place better, give these people a glimmer of hope in the encroaching darkness... Or die trying.
"I care not if I fall tomorrow, I will do what I can to help these people."
However, now was not the time. He needed rest and shelter, just like anyone, and forgoing it would speed him to his untimely demise.
Warren is going at a medium pace, looking around at the common folk to see where they are going with the water, but ending the trail at the tavern and memorizing where they go, if they go farther than the tavern. He'll survey his surroundings once he gets in the tavern.
Disoriented and cold, Orryn buries himself deep within his bedroll. Only his eyes remain exposed. Off in the distance, he could make out a storm obscured form, almost certainly humanoid but as soon as he sees it appear, it vanishes. Before Orryn closes his eyes to brace against the storm he takes his dagger and carves an arrow in the direction of the figure. Perhaps it could be a helpful ally, or perhaps it was never there at all. Either way he makes a mental note to investigate the matter after the storm breaks.
Orryn buries himself deep within the bedroll and braces against the cold. As soon as the storm breaks he makes the plan to follow the figures trail.
Orryn rolls a constitution save with advantage against the cold of the storm?
11
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Lucette:
Lucette follows along the path, moving further up the trail. However, she finds the trail wet and mushy and slippery, pulling back at her feet like the souls of the undead clinging to her boots. It takes considerable effort to move through this without falling over, and considerable more to avoid being slowed down.
Lucette begins traveling at a normal pace up to town, moving at 300 feet per minute. She has a +0 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Lucette's trip will be at 150 feet per minute instead, and take 6 minutes instead of 3.
Lucette Riedell Britton makes a Dexterity saving throw!
1d20 + 0 = 14
However, she's able to push on through, braving the wind and the storm to go on ahead.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and she gains her first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. She immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
Lucette feels she is currently doing well. Her feet are weary and tired, but she could likely brave the weather longer without fear of contracting sickness should she want to.
Komoi:
The tavern wench slams a tankard of ale, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then glares at Komoi. She looks up, then down him, then back up, taking in the odd sight of this... thing. Her eyes don't unnarrow from their hard gaze, but she takes an exceptionally long time to take him in before speaking.
"The 'ell are you? An ugly boy with a costume?" She asks, her voice the texture of grinding granite. One of the dwarves calls for ale, and she slides down the one in her hand. She pours out another tankard without looking, her eyes still completely focused on him.
Beth clears her throat. "Call 'et whatever you want," she says. From the tone of her voice, it sounds like she's quite the avid smoker. "As long as 'yer paying. We got some delicious horse meat in the back. Real fine quality st'uff."
Warren and Komoi:
Warren proceeds forward, going along the path. He eventually comes across the same decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
When he steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration. Standing on his tippy toes is a goblin, just barely high enough to crest the bar.
The wench appears to be talking to the goblin. He comes in just in time to catch the end of, "... in the back. Real fine quality st'uff." Her voice has the texture of two rocks grating next to each other.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
Komoi adds a second coin to the first, his large mouth flashing his sharp teeth as he nods. The motion of his confirmation causes the plush hood to bounce chaotically in the air and spatter the ground with droplets of muddy water.
"Great! I would like a meal and a room at the Hellhole please." Komoi replies, seemingly skipping over the first question. He had learned to let whoever believe whatever as long as they weren't using those pesky brooms on him. He really hated brooms. The goblin turns about face and marches towards one of the tables, his bright eye catching the same overtly armored individual as before. The goblin climbs up into his seat, his smaller frame looking comical in the chair. The tabletop sits at the goblin's chin, the hood staring inanimately over the top at the room.
Komoi's stomach growls at the prospect of good meat. Horse meat especially sounded tasty, as the goblin was rarely able to eat above scrap quality food. He hoped it wouldn't end up costing him too much of his precious gold. He had a hoard of his own to gather after all. It was his dragonly duty, and every coin counted.
Orryn:
After about 10 minutes of huddling it out in the cold, the storm does indeed lessen a bit. The curtains have rain seem to have ebbed and the wind slowing down. It does not appear it is coming to a stop, from the thick storm clouds still rumbling overhead, but it appears to at least be a short respite. He can hear quite a bit better now, despite the thick pattering of rain, and he's not being picked up by his feet.
It does not seem long before the wind will be picking up again. Taking advantage of the storm's respite, Orryn zips forward, running after the figure. However, as he moves out, he finds that the trail is long and muddy, and threatens to slip him at every step. His patience pays out however, and it's considerably easier to traverse than earlier.
Strong Wind. The strong wind pauses for 8 minutes. It then returns afterwards.
Muddy Trail. Anyone traveling on this path must succeed on a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw or the ground acts as difficult terrain, as the slippery mud slows your ascent. Orryn has advantage on this Dexterity saving throw.
Orryn travels at a fast pace up to town, moving at 400 feet per minute. He has a +4 to Dexterity saving throws. On a failure, Orryns trip will be at 200 feet per minute instead, and take 4 minutes, 30 seconds instead.
Orryn makes a Dexterity saving throw!
1d20 + 4 = 24
Unique Inspirations. Despite how powerful regular inspirations can be, you can only have one at a time. To mediate this, you may be given unique inspirations as well for good roleplay or as quest rewards. There is no limit to the number of unique inspirations you can have. Unique inspirations often have certain circumstances that they can only be used, but may include other benefits as well.
[6/28/17] chaiblazter (Orryn): +1 Inspiration: Father's Wisdom
Inspiration: Father's Wisdom
When you make an Intelligence or Wisdom check, you can expend this inspiration to gain advantage on the roll. If you succeed on the check, you learn a secret or additional information that you would not have previously known if you simply succeeded. You must declare the use of this inspiration before making your check.
Orryn masterfully traverses on down the path, moving significantly easier than any of the previous travelers before him. He seamlessly makes it up to the town without any trouble or mud on his shirt.
The path comes to a deep fork in the road, and he gains his first glimpse upon the town.
The village consists of forty or fifty dark wood and stone buildings, some built on sturdier, solid foundations, with others little more than wood planks shoved in the ground. He immediately sees that many if not all of these houses have been damaged. Some of them have deep scratches and slashes in the walls and in the stone. Others have collapsed in on themselves to turn into piles of wooden debris.
The fork divides the trail into a western and an eastern trail. The western trail continues north, in the same direction he was walking, and ascends further up the mountain. The eastern trail dips down and spirals into what appears to be a small quarry. Both trails have houses and buildings all along it, but he sees that the western trail has more sturdier, stone built houses.
Orryn feels quite well, and the wind does not appear to be picking up for some time. He feels he could explore around more before the storm kicks in, if he wishes.
Komoi:
"Two coppers for the meal, one for the room," the woman says in her half-growl, half-slur of a voice. "Two more coppers and ya get free refills on drinks for 'da night."
The woman scowls as the goblin splatters water on her floors. Her eyes avert downward, stares down at the puddle that was slowly collecting off the goblin's naked body. She thinks about calling someone to clean it, but holds on the thought and pours another ale for the dwarves at the corner. They let a satisfied grunt and nod at the bartender before continuing away at their drinks.
Breathing heavily, and finally in the town - she was panting a little heavily, her keen eyes taking in the details of the town around her. From the damages of deep scratches to the rundown houses. Likely signs of attacks, the lack of repairs and too little coin to help the repairs get going and pay for laborers. This might not be the place after all, given how much her destination was told had coin in it every other foot.
Taking the western path, she does not run now but is instead walking at a brisk pace - looking around for either militia, guards or commoners to help her find an inn where she can get warm for the night. Or perhaps even find the inn on her own, given the fact that she had absolutely no idea what town this might actually be. She saw no signs along her run here - to Tamara's own fault, but she couldn't dally on that. She needed food, a room to stay - and information.
Tamara is going to take the western path and circle around to go down each alleyway she can find as well - not leaving a street or off-shute path way alone for her to find something she could gather information from.
Roll for the check up above: 21
Tamara:
Tamara moves briskly up the western path, then begins her search. It doesn't appear to be any armored men or guardhouses of the sort, just houses upon houses. She finds several stores closer toward the main square of the northern town, but many of them are barred with thick, wooden planks over the windows or gated off or chained. She sees the statue of a man in the center of the northern square, but she can't quite make it out of the darkness and from the distance.
A boom of thunder echoes overhead, and a shiver runs through Tamara's body. The weather seems to be pulling at her defenses now, and it doesn't seem long before she would be susceptible to it.
She does spot one of the things she is looking for however, an inn. She comes across a decent-sized building, well-built for this part of town. Thick, stone foundations lead up to solid wood walls reinforced with metal. All the windows have metal bars overlaying ontop of them, preventing access inside even if the windows were shattered. The same scratches and marks on the other houses are occasionally scattered on this one.
She takes great care to note of every sort of oddity in this town, before swiftly pushing towards the inn. With soaked clothes and boots with a shiver running through her body - she runs toward the inn and immediately goes up the small steps to the door - grabbing the handle and pushing it open to step inside of the building. Once Tamara was inside, she'd close the door quickly too to make sure that there was no cold air or rain drifting into the building.
With that said and done - her eyes began looking around the place. through the somewhat water covered goggles. Seeing as that was more of a hassle than gazing normally, she tugs at them and pulls them up from under the hood, letting them rest against her forehead, revealing her chocolate colored eyes and bronze/tanned smooth face.
Tamara, Komoi, Warren:
When she steps inside, the common room is decently compact, with just enough room for booths, a bar, and a small but clean lounge next to the fireplace. The lounge has two chairs, a coffee table, and a modest looking couch.
The tavern is lightly populated. A teenage couple, a boy and a girl, is in one of the back booths. They're making out passionately with one another. Three dwarves sit at the bar, cups of ale in their hands and murmuring solemnly between themselves. An older man in drab-green clothes is also sitting in a booth, a cup of tea sitting in-front of him. He seems to be figiting with something in his lap, but it's out of sight at the moment. There is an short, odd looking creature sitting in one of the booths, with grey skin, crimson eyes, and is wearing a dragon costume.
The bartender stands at the front, a large woman with a big mole on the right side of her chin and rolls of fat protruding from her neck. Her frizzy black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes seem to be narrowed in perpetual anger or frustration.
Standing near the front of the room is a fully-armored man, with a beautiful shield and a gleaming longsword at his side. He too seems to be surveying the place from the sidelines.
A set of stairs leads upstairs to what likely are the rooms.
The goblin sits alone with his drum on top of the table before him. He leans to the side of his chair and squeezes the plush dragon hood which unleashes a stream of water to splash on the floor. He looks down at it with curiosity before patting the head of the hood and sitting up straight once more. He waits for his meal patiently and looks at the inhabitants of the tavern curiously. His bright eyes even look at the woman that enters the tavern before moving on to look at the two teenagers. He tilts his head, wondering why they're biting each other.