Rya watched as the poorly made weapon sailed past her – that could have been excruciatingly painful.
“Scout, we’ve almost died twice – under the circumstances I’m doing okay. At least Screechy over here got this big oaf to stop his temper tantrum.”
Rya looked directly at the ogre who was stopped in his tracks. The greatclub he hand in his hand was finally at rest.
“Scout, I’m about to do something that may or may not hurt. Have my back as always?”
Rya walked over to the stunned Ogre and started to climb on top of the greatclub, and further perching herself on his shoulders like a child would be carried around by their father. This creature did not seem to be reasonable, so it was time for Rya to even the playing field.
Rya took both of her daggers, and pierced one into each eye.
Attack: 7 Damage: 6
Offhand attack: Attack: 6 Damage: 3
“Can’t kill what you can’t see!”
Noticing her attack seemed less than useful, Rya remained on the Ogre's shoulders hoping for a better chance.
"Scout, a little help here?"
The Ogre looks quite upset that you're flailing around on top of him! More tears spray forth from his cheeks.
Her friend was asking for her help and at that moment Scout realized that if she wanted to attack with her dagger, she would have to get up close and personal with this Ogre. Something her friend was currently doing...and it wasn't going the best for her. Scout rolled her eyes and made sure the sigh that left her mouth was audible to her friend. They hadn't even been awake in this place for an hour and everything was already going to shit. She was covered in body goo, her friend was attacking an ogre, and they were trapped in a place they didn't know. So much for a relaxing break from work.
With a few gestures of her hands and an incantation, a mass of chaotic, undulating cold energy flung itself from Scout's hands to the Ogre as she cast Chaos Bolt
Attack: 17Damage: 13 (cold damage)
After casting her spell, she looked up at Rya
"I helped?"
He lets out a loud yelp as the cold damage takes hold, some of the tears freezing to his cheeks like small icicles.
Qhour watched in astonishment as the dark Half-Elf jumped off of the cart and climbed the ogre attempting to stab its eyes out. Suddenly a blast hit the ogre coming from the Kenku. From the way they talked to each other he suspects that they are friends. He jumps down from the cart and runs around behind the Ogre, then backs up out of melee range. Pulling out his waterskin he squirts a cup of water up into the air. Stepping into the falling water he whispers
Still under the effects of command, the poor Ogre just stands there as your "friends" mercilessly attack him. He was only scared and defending himself after all.
Paul falls back as a lumpy saggy mess rolls into his mouth as he shifts. It feels like some kind of awful demonic dumpilng with chunky rubbery....
Paul's gorge gives way at last and he adds, in a small way, to the general awfulness around him.
The Ogre stands there at his roughly 10' feet height, tears spilling from his cheeks with some turning to small flakes of snow from Scout's spell. He drops down onto his butt and sits down in the dirt, wailing as loud as possible. The sound is quite off-putting, but you sort of get the idea that this Ogre was just picking up corpses to eat, and you indeed terrified him by your loud and boisterous activities.
"I just wanted snack. You scare me big." He lets out another guttural wail as more tears spill out and down his cheeks.
Setting The Scene
Paul Dure is still pinned down and restrained in the back of the cart, pinned down by the various corpses. You can make a DC 10 Strength SavingThrows to free yourselves from the cart.
Outside of the cart is a vast expanse of reddish wasteland stretching as far as the eye can see beneath a blistering red sun. Directly next to the cart on the left is Qhour, perched on the side of the cart with the Ogre about 5ft away and swinging its weapon at Qhour to ensure this creature he thought was dead goes back to being that way. About ten feet behind them is a raging, green river, the River Styx. Standing at the front of the cart are both Rya, and Scout.
Qhour: You're now directly behind him, your command spell preventing him from getting an attack of opportunity against you.
Scout: You're standing at the front of the cart now. The Ogre is about 5 feet to your left, the river ten feet beyond that. He's clearly upset about being battered around for only defending himself.
Rya: You're perched on his shoulders.
Paul: You're still pinned under the pile of massive corpses.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
“Very helpful Scout!”
Rya cringed as the Ogre wailed. Although she had taken no damage, the wailing was painful to listen to. How could such a massive being be so... pathetic? Stabbing him again in this state would bring her nothing, but what else was she or Scout supposed to do... now was a good a time as ever to try to talk to this blubbering baby. Rya put her daggers back into their sheathes before she climbed down from the Ogre and stood next to Screechy, but kept closer to Scout in case things went awry.
“Hey, shh. Easy their buddy. How about you don’t try to eat us, and we’ll stop hurting you? You have lots of snacks already and you’ll find more. You want dead snacks, right? Isn’t this too much effort for you to make us dead?”
“Hey, shh. Easy their buddy. How about you don’t try to eat us, and we’ll stop hurting you? You have lots of snacks already and you’ll find more. You want dead snacks, right? Isn’t this too much effort for you to make us dead?”
That was the reason Scout liked Rya. She knew lots of words and how to use them. It was a bit odd to see such a large imposing creature reduced to nothing more than a blubbering mess on the ground. Scout wasn't going to lie, knowing she at least helped bring such a creature down made her feel bold and powerful. Now that they had taken care of the immediate threat, Scout was all too aware of the goo that was beginning to dry and stick her feathers together. She would need such a long bath after this whole ordeal was over.
To help Rya illustrate her point, Scout hit the side of the cart trying to jostle the bodies within.
Qhour kept his Warhammer ready. He glanced at the dark Half-Elf and said,
"Be careful. He might be faking. Tugging at your heart-strings until you get close enough to grab."
He then jumped back up onto the meat wagon and looked for the blue person he had spotted during his flight. He found him still mostly covered in goo and death.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Paul turned his head trying to get rid of... Something. Ye gods this was awful. He remembered something his grandmother Siri used to say, some fragment of a long forgotten story. 'Something grisly this way comes.'
As Paul moved yet again preparing for one more effort to stand, he sees the hand just in front of his. Certain that it's just another... Bit of someone he at first ignores it. Then the voice : "Need a hand?"
Eagerly, gratefully Paul reaches out, grabs the hand... And pulls.
7
Paul's hand, covered in sick and.. Stuff... Slides off the other hand like butter off a ducks back.
Paul sighs, a small sigh filled with resignation and vomit, and sinks softly back into the press of corpses.
Rya cringed as the Ogre wailed. Although she had taken no damage, the wailing was painful to listen to. How could such a massive being be so... pathetic? Stabbing him again in this state would bring her nothing, but what else was she or Scout supposed to do... now was a good a time as ever to try to talk to this blubbering baby. Rya put her daggers back into their sheathes before she climbed down from the Ogre and stood next to Screechy, but kept closer to Scout in case things went awry.
“Hey, shh. Easy their buddy. How about you don’t try to eat us, and we’ll stop hurting you? You have lots of snacks already and you’ll find more. You want dead snacks, right? Isn’t this too much effort for you to make us dead?”
“Hey, shh. Easy their buddy. How about you don’t try to eat us, and we’ll stop hurting you? You have lots of snacks already and you’ll find more. You want dead snacks, right? Isn’t this too much effort for you to make us dead?”
That was the reason Scout liked Rya. She knew lots of words and how to use them. It was a bit odd to see such a large imposing creature reduced to nothing more than a blubbering mess on the ground. Scout wasn't going to lie, knowing she at least helped bring such a creature down made her feel bold and powerful. Now that they had taken care of the immediate threat, Scout was all too aware of the goo that was beginning to dry and stick her feathers together. She would need such a long bath after this whole ordeal was over.
To help Rya illustrate her point, Scout hit the side of the cart trying to jostle the bodies within.
Qhour kept his Warhammer ready. He glanced at the dark Half-Elf and said,
"Be careful. He might be faking. Tugging at your heart-strings until you get close enough to grab."
He then jumped back up onto the meat wagon and looked for the blue person he had spotted during his flight. He found him still mostly covered in goo and death.
Paul turned his head trying to get rid of... Something. Ye gods this was awful. He remembered something his grandmother Siri used to say, some fragment of a long forgotten story. 'Something grisly this way comes.'
As Paul moved yet again preparing for one more effort to stand, he sees the hand just in front of his. Certain that it's just another... Bit of someone he at first ignores it. Then the voice : "Need a hand?"
Eagerly, gratefully Paul reaches out, grabs the hand... And pulls.
7
Paul's hand, covered in sick and.. Stuff... Slides off the other hand like butter off a ducks back.
Paul sighs, a small sigh filled with resignation and vomit, and sinks softly back into the press of corpses.
The Ogre stands up, brushes the red dirt and frozen tears off of his chest and moves towards the cart and digs through it. He grabs the very dead body of the dwarf in the back of the meat-wagon and raises the corpse up to his mouth and tears the leg off with his gnarled and broken teeth. He tosses the remainder of the dead dwarf back into the cart, and digs around for something he saw moving in the back and for whatever Qhour was reaching for in the back.
He reaches in and picks up the Vedalken quite easily in his massive hands, and hoists him into the air and drops him on the ground with a dull thud. Then, without any sort of recognition to any of you, he approaches the front of the cart, picks up the hoists and continues pulling the meat-wagon back down the bank of the river, and eventually passes out of sight behind a large cluster of rocks around a bend in the river.
Setting The Scene
Around you all is a vast expanse of reddish wasteland stretching as far as the eye can see beneath a blistering red sun. Directly next to you on the left is a raging, green river, the River Styx. About sixty feet in front of you are the cluster of large boulders at the bend of the river that the Ogre vanished behind. The sun is massive, and red and you have no idea what time it could be, you don't recognize anything about this place.
In the far distance, you see what looks to be a small black tower on the horizon behind you to the south. There's a large crack of thunder in the distance, and the smell of sulphur quickly fills your nostrils for a moment before vanishing again.
Rya watched as the Ogre ate his snack, and then proceed to remove another living being from the cart, a Vedalken. Once he was removed, he continued on his way with the meat wagon out of sight. Rya breathed a sigh of relief - that was a risk talking him down but it was worth it. There had been riskier things she had tried over the years - Scout could attest to that. Not all of them had played out as smoothly as that did... if you could call it smooth.
"Well, that was fun - wasn't it Scout? Does anyone know where we are? Screechy? Wagon boy? Anyone?"
Rya looked between the river and at the dark tower in the distance. Looking at the river sent a shiver through her thinking about the last time she was in a body of water, but if she had to do it, she had to do it. Both options didn't look great, but there wasn't much her or Scout could do. As long as she could get her partner and herself out of here alive was all that mattered.
"Well, looks like there are two choices - let the river carry us towards where the Ogre went or tower, or we can walk. The river doesn't look like there's really a current flowing so it doesn't look too dangerous. At least being in the river will get this goop off of us. Scout, what do you think? I just don't want to keep standing here waiting to be attacked again."
Scout watched the ogre leave after dropping another body with them. The group was just getting bigger and bigger by the moment.
"Fun is not what I would use. Stupid plan, climbing him."
She looked out to the river that ran through the land near them, then back to their two new companions. One was very curious looking, since Scout hadn't noticed him in the cart before she left. Rya had referred to him as Wagon Boy. Did she know him perhaps? She had names for both their new companions. There was safety in numbers and the one Rya called Screechy seemed to be pretty handy in a fight. The other one... They would have to see. Maybe he just woke up, maybe he was scared of ogres. Scout couldn't think of any other reason why it would have taken him so long to get out of the cart.
"Is Wagon Boy okay? He should stand so we can follow the river. Not in, water will slow us down. We can jump in if attacked."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Qhour jumped down off the cart as he saw the ogre coming. He watched as the monster lifted the blue person out and dropped him on the ground.
'I have no idea where we are."
He looked towards the distant tower.
" That looks like the way to go. How would you propose that we get there on the river? Make a raft of dead bodies that have fallen off the cart? I don't see a boat."
Paul Dure' - finally - stands up, muttering distractedly to himself.
"Bloodydamn ichor all over my robes...this will never come out, I'm sure of it...slipping and sliding all over the place, I can't be having that at my time of life..."
Belatedly, Paul sees the others standing around.
"Well well now. You all look as disgusting as I feel. I'm Paul. Paul Dure' What's everyone looking at?"
Scout watched the ogre leave after dropping another body with them. The group was just getting bigger and bigger by the moment.
"Fun is not what I would use. Stupid plan, climbing him."
She looked out to the river that ran through the land near them, then back to their two new companions. One was very curious looking, since Scout hadn't noticed him in the cart before she left. Rya had referred to him as Wagon Boy. Did she know him perhaps? She had names for both their new companions. There was safety in numbers and the one Rya called Screechy seemed to be pretty handy in a fight. The other one... They would have to see. Maybe he just woke up, maybe he was scared of ogres. Scout couldn't think of any other reason why it would have taken him so long to get out of the cart.
"Is Wagon Boy okay? He should stand so we can follow the river. Not in, water will slow us down. We can jump in if attacked."
Qhour jumped down off the cart as he saw the ogre coming. He watched as the monster lifted the blue person out and dropped him on the ground.
'I have no idea where we are."
He looked towards the distant tower.
" That looks like the way to go. How would you propose that we get there on the river? Make a raft of dead bodies that have fallen off the cart? I don't see a boat."
Rya watched as the Ogre ate his snack, and then proceed to remove another living being from the cart, a Vedalken. Once he was removed, he continued on his way with the meat wagon out of sight. Rya breathed a sigh of relief - that was a risk talking him down but it was worth it. There had been riskier things she had tried over the years - Scout could attest to that. Not all of them had played out as smoothly as that did... if you could call it smooth.
"Well, that was fun - wasn't it Scout? Does anyone know where we are? Screechy? Wagon boy? Anyone?"
Rya looked between the river and at the dark tower in the distance. Looking at the river sent a shiver through her thinking about the last time she was in a body of water, but if she had to do it, she had to do it. Both options didn't look great, but there wasn't much her or Scout could do. As long as she could get her partner and herself out of here alive was all that mattered.
"Well, looks like there are two choices - let the river carry us towards where the Ogre went or tower, or we can walk. The river doesn't look like there's really a current flowing so it doesn't look too dangerous. At least being in the river will get this goop off of us. Scout, what do you think? I just don't want to keep standing here waiting to be attacked again."
Paul Dure' - finally - stands up, muttering distractedly to himself.
"Bloodydamn ichor all over my robes...this will never come out, I'm sure of it...slipping and sliding all over the place, I can't be having that at my time of life..."
Belatedly, Paul sees the others standing around.
"Well well now. You all look as disgusting as I feel. I'm Paul. Paul Dure' What's everyone looking at?"
For the sake of things, let's have you all describe what your characters look like in detail please so we can all get an idea what we'd be seeing. It helps me out too!
Setting The Scene
The Ogre has now vanished from sight, and the river seems to not be flowing in any set direction at the moment. As you all ponder on what to do, you suddenly watch as a small boat slowly makes its way down the river coming from the direction the Ogre vanished in. You notice a hooded, robed figure standing at the tip of the boat with an oar, pushing the boat along towards you all.
Almost suddenly, the area is plunged into darkness, almost as if night-time has arrived into this strange land where you are. You can make out the bobbing of a lantern on the boat, and as the figure approaches you notice this quite long oar has a lantern tied to the end of it. The boat stops in front of the four of you, and the figure looks out at you, two piercing yellow eyes staring out from under a hood of complete darkness.
"Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?"
The figure continues to look at you all, his head resting against its tall, lantern-clad oar. Upon closer inspection the figure's appearance is that of a skeletal man with glowing eyes in a haggard face. The figure is wearing what appears to be worn and frayed robes of silk. The figure looks to be about 6 feet tall. The hands appear to be bony claws and the feet appear to be slightly webbed.
His voice sounds like the sound of cracking ice meeting the sound of rattling bones. It's chilling, cold and seemingly devoid of any emotion.
Rya’s grey eyes locked onto the yellow eyes of this figure – it felt as though she was looking into a void. There was no emotion being conveyed, only darkness. Never before had she encountered such a being that sent a chill down her spine the way this creature did. The fact it had apparently stripped the world from its light was another matter entirely. The only similarity this being had encounter with Rya was the cloak they both wore – Rya’s more cared for... except today.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Her eyes glanced over to the river and she caught a reflection of herself. The grey in her eyes seemed so dull - she was tired and she knew it. This whole experience had been exhausting. From everything that happened today, her appearance almost didn't appearance didn't seem like her own. Her hands were bare - normally she would have worn gloves during an encounter, but those were last on the ship she and Scout where on. She took her hand and brushed a piece of her white hair back behind her ear – being seemingly resurrected had provided a level of dishevelledness that she did not appreciate. The drying guts from the previous unfortunate souls made her shoulder length hair stick to her dusky skin. Having shoulder length hair for Rya had never been a problem until today. Her cloak was stained from blood, but the blackened fabric made those stains less noticeable, especially in the dim lighting. It was not a problem for her to see – having the blood of Drow flow through her veins had given her eyesight the boost other humans longed for. She took her hand and gently pried away her hood on her cloak to stop it from drying stuck on the back.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Rya looking down at her leather boots – goo covered as well. At least none had made it inside her boots - her pants being tucked into them had at least stopped that unpleasantness from occurring. No matter where she looked on her body – her leather armour, her daggers on either hips, the backpack she wore with her other equipment – all of it was covered. She knew Scout was covered in the same terrible goop she was, and damned if she was going to let her friend suffer. Where did the flow of the Styx take her? She knew.
“To relieve us of this dreaded uncleanliness – somewhere to wash and rest.”
Hopefully this being would be persuaded into proving them with a means to get to a place to wash even if it would not provide it directly. She already rode an ogre today - this encountered seemed less risky to her.
Standing at 4'8, Scout knew she was on the shorter side. Usually it was a gift, it allowed her to sneak and squeeze into tight places which was very handy during her days as a smuggler. But, in moments like this when darkness took her vision away, it just made her feel small and vulnerable. She let out a quiet whimper and moved closer to Rya, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her friend's cloak. She wore a cloak similar in style to her friend, the black of her cloak blending in with the black of the feathers that covered most of her body. With the hand not holding onto her friend's cloak, she reached inside her cloak and patted her vest to grab the handle of the dagger kept inside. The vest was the fanciest thing she owned, made from a fine fabric and passed down from her father with various trinkets she collected over the years attached to the belt tied around it. Her pants were more simple, hiding her wand. She didn't like many people knowing she had a magical aptitude. Magic was for life or death situations. Most tight spots could be solved with her friend's words, or a dagger if words didn't work. No sense wasting magic on simple squabbles. The fact that these two new companions of hers had seen her use magic was unusual, but this was an unusual place they all found themselves in.
From the darkness emerged a light, carried by a figure atop a boat. The figure sent shivers down Scout's spine and she moved closer to Rya, focusing her beady eyes on the light and what was illuminated by it's glow.
The darkness could take away her vision, but it wouldn't take away her fight and this newcomer with a beacon of light wasn't to be trusted. In this new land they found themselves in, nothing, and no one was. Scout's hand clasped tighter around the dagger and she removed it from it's hiding spot, keeping it hidden inside the cloak. Was the shadows cast by the lantern playing tricks on her eyes or was this figure a skeleton?
Qhour scuffed his talons in the dirt to remove as much of the gore as he could. He knew that the back of the black robes that he wore over his chain mail had some corpse goo on the back, but, as he had been on the top of the pile on the cart, he wasn't as filthy as the rest of his new companions. Standing next to the Kenku he noticed that they are almost the same height. He may be an inch taller, but that's all. His pure white feathers were a stark contrast to her black. He said to her in Auran,
"My name is Qhour. Did I hear your friend call you Scout? Is that your name or your rank? Do you have any idea where we are? Or why we are here?"
He looks to the others and, in Common, says.
"Do you have any idea where we are? Or why we are here? Or how we got here?"
He suddenly notices a small boat slowly making its way down the river, coming from the direction the Ogre vanished in. There is a hooded, robed figure standing at the tip of the boat with an oar with a lantern hanging on it, pushing the boat along towards the group. Suddenly it's dark. As if night had suddenly fallen. Qhour grips his Warhammer and readies the shield strapped to his arm. He shrugs his shoulder a bit to settle the pack on his back, between his wings, a little more comfortably. He pulled up the large hood of his robe to cover the white feathers of his head, which had a tendency to show (almost glow) in the dark. He pulled his wings in through the specially made slits in the back of his robe for the same reason. The dark figure in the boat said, "Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?" Qhour says,
"The Styx? This is the River Styx? That means that you are... are... Death? We are dead?"
He shook his head. I don't feel dead, he thought, but his last memories are of dying under the swords of his enemies. Many enemies. Many swords. My King! He glanced down at the small golden crown embroidered onto the left breast of his robes. His insignia of rank. Captain of the King's Guard. Second son of the King.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Paul stands, muttering still.
"Bloodydamn deathgoo...everywhere. I could slip and fall and then where would I be?
Looking around, seeing the others staring, Paul finally sees the boat. And the driver...
Paul thinks for a moment, sure this scene is familiar somehow.
History check: 11
"Well lads, ladies and.. . Birdies? This here is one of rivers of the Outer Planes. And do you know? I'm not only mess, I think I may be dead? Well. Shit. There goes the afternoon."
Turning to the boatman, Paul says "Where are ye bound ya bag o bones?"
Rya’s grey eyes locked onto the yellow eyes of this figure – it felt as though she was looking into a void. There was no emotion being conveyed, only darkness. Never before had she encountered such a being that sent a chill down her spine the way this creature did. The fact it had apparently stripped the world from its light was another matter entirely. The only similarity this being had encounter with Rya was the cloak they both wore – Rya’s more cared for... except today.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Her eyes glanced over to the river and she caught a reflection of herself. The grey in her eyes seemed so dull - she was tired and she knew it. This whole experience had been exhausting. From everything that happened today, her appearance almost didn't appearance didn't seem like her own. Her hands were bare - normally she would have worn gloves during an encounter, but those were last on the ship she and Scout where on. She took her hand and brushed a piece of her white hair back behind her ear – being seemingly resurrected had provided a level of dishevelledness that she did not appreciate. The drying guts from the previous unfortunate souls made her shoulder length hair stick to her dusky skin. Having shoulder length hair for Rya had never been a problem until today. Her cloak was stained from blood, but the blackened fabric made those stains less noticeable, especially in the dim lighting. It was not a problem for her to see – having the blood of Drow flow through her veins had given her eyesight the boost other humans longed for. She took her hand and gently pried away her hood on her cloak to stop it from drying stuck on the back.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Rya looking down at her leather boots – goo covered as well. At least none had made it inside her boots - her pants being tucked into them had at least stopped that unpleasantness from occurring. No matter where she looked on her body – her leather armour, her daggers on either hips, the backpack she wore with her other equipment – all of it was covered. She knew Scout was covered in the same terrible goop she was, and damned if she was going to let her friend suffer. Where did the flow of the Styx take her? She knew.
“To relieve us of this dreaded uncleanliness – somewhere to wash and rest.”
Hopefully this being would be persuaded into proving them with a means to get to a place to wash even if it would not provide it directly. She already rode an ogre today - this encountered seemed less risky to her.
Persuasion: 10
The Boatman just stares at you.
"The beings that dwell down here are used to being unwashed and basking in the filth of the damned. Ye might want to get used to it as well, but you're always welcome to take a dip." He gestures towards the river.
Standing at 4'8, Scout knew she was on the shorter side. Usually it was a gift, it allowed her to sneak and squeeze into tight places which was very handy during her days as a smuggler. But, in moments like this when darkness took her vision away, it just made her feel small and vulnerable. She let out a quiet whimper and moved closer to Rya, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her friend's cloak. She wore a cloak similar in style to her friend, the black of her cloak blending in with the black of the feathers that covered most of her body. With the hand not holding onto her friend's cloak, she reached inside her cloak and patted her vest to grab the handle of the dagger kept inside. The vest was the fanciest thing she owned, made from a fine fabric and passed down from her father with various trinkets she collected over the years attached to the belt tied around it. Her pants were more simple, hiding her wand. She didn't like many people knowing she had a magical aptitude. Magic was for life or death situations. Most tight spots could be solved with her friend's words, or a dagger if words didn't work. No sense wasting magic on simple squabbles. The fact that these two new companions of hers had seen her use magic was unusual, but this was an unusual place they all found themselves in.
From the darkness emerged a light, carried by a figure atop a boat. The figure sent shivers down Scout's spine and she moved closer to Rya, focusing her beady eyes on the light and what was illuminated by it's glow.
The darkness could take away her vision, but it wouldn't take away her fight and this newcomer with a beacon of light wasn't to be trusted. In this new land they found themselves in, nothing, and no one was. Scout's hand clasped tighter around the dagger and she removed it from it's hiding spot, keeping it hidden inside the cloak. Was the shadows cast by the lantern playing tricks on her eyes or was this figure a skeleton?
Qhour scuffed his talons in the dirt to remove as much of the gore as he could. He knew that the back of the black robes that he wore over his chain mail had some corpse goo on the back, but, as he had been on the top of the pile on the cart, he wasn't as filthy as the rest of his new companions. Standing next to the Kenku he noticed that they are almost the same height. He may be an inch taller, but that's all. His pure white feathers were a stark contrast to her black. He said to her in Auran,
"My name is Qhour. Did I hear your friend call you Scout? Is that your name or your rank? Do you have any idea where we are? Or why we are here?"
He looks to the others and, in Common, says.
"Do you have any idea where we are? Or why we are here? Or how we got here?"
He suddenly notices a small boat slowly making its way down the river, coming from the direction the Ogre vanished in. There is a hooded, robed figure standing at the tip of the boat with an oar with a lantern hanging on it, pushing the boat along towards the group. Suddenly it's dark. As if night had suddenly fallen. Qhour grips his Warhammer and readies the shield strapped to his arm. He shrugs his shoulder a bit to settle the pack on his back, between his wings, a little more comfortably. He pulled up the large hood of his robe to cover the white feathers of his head, which had a tendency to show (almost glow) in the dark. He pulled his wings in through the specially made slits in the back of his robe for the same reason. The dark figure in the boat said, "Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?" Qhour says,
"The Styx? This is the River Styx? That means that you are... are... Death? We are dead?"
He shook his head. I don't feel dead, he thought, but his last memories are of dying under the swords of his enemies. Many enemies. Many swords. My King! He glanced down at the small golden crown embroidered onto the left breast of his robes. His insignia of rank. Captain of the King's Guard. Second son of the King.
"You're very much dead, yes. I can smell the death on you all." The figure seems pleased by this, a small bone-rattling sounding laugh emanating from within the hood.
"Bloodydamn deathgoo...everywhere. I could slip and fall and then where would I be?
Looking around, seeing the others staring, Paul finally sees the boat. And the driver...
Paul thinks for a moment, sure this scene is familiar somehow.
History check: 14
"Well lads, ladies and.. . Birdies? This here is one of rivers of the Outer Planes. And do you know? I'm not only mess, I think I may be dead? Well. Shit. There goes the afternoon."
Turning to the boatman, Paul says "Where are ye bound ya bag o bones?"
"Bag of Bones? You all clearly have no idea whom you're speaking to." The figure waves his hand and the river begins flowing in all sorts of directions, almost chaotic in its movement. The figure then brightens the lantern on his boat's oar, and motions for you all to come aboard.
Setting The Scene
"My name is Charon (KAY-run), I am the boatman of this here River Styx and I be ferrying the souls of those whom end up here to wherever they desire down here."He motions towards a gnarled, and very gaunt and starved looking Gnome huddled in the corner covered in blankets, and shivering, the sound of their teeth chattering only slightly audible. Charon turns back to the four of you and motions again for you to come aboard.
"I can ferry you down the river in either direction to a location that you so very desire...for a price. Be careful not to touch the water."
The Gnome in the back of the boat appears like they may have frozen to death in life, and that's why they seem to shivering constantly. Almost as if they've been forced to spend an eternity freezing to death, but never succumbing. As you inspect and stare at the boat some more, you notice there seem to be other "souls" in the boat as well, all silent but well aware of their surroundings. They do not speak, or make eye contact, they're all either staring at the floor of the boat or off into space.
Charon himself still stands at the tip of the boat, his arms outstretched, gesturing for you to come aboard.
"I agree with you Paul, there goes our afternoon... or whatever time it is down here."
Rya could feel the vice grip of Scout on the back of her cloak. Her companion was unable to see in the dark, and it was obvious to Rya she was afraid. Whether Scout was afraid of the sudden darkness or afraid of this figure, it was understandable. This entire situation was something to be uneasy about. The intentions of this figure was yet to be determined. On the surface, Rya had a bad feeling about this figure. It could be though that Scout was causing Rya to view this figure more negatively that she should have. The realization that they were all dead unsettled her more than she thought it would as it settled with her. She certainly didn't feel dead, just dirty. For Scout's sake, she would have to keep her views on her own mortality buried. Looking over the other souls in the boat, Rya was filled with dread.
"My name is Charon (KAY-run), I am the boatman of this here River Styx and I be ferrying the souls of those whom end up here to wherever they desire down here. I can ferry you down the river in either direction to a location that you so very desire...for a price. Be careful not to touch the water."
Rya glanced at the others near her. What was this price? What could such a price be when you're dead? If it would keep Scout safe, she would pay any price for her partner - no gamble was too big for Rya to take when it came to her and her partner.
"Charon, may I ask what is the price? We surely cannot pay you with our lives since we are... deceased. What method of payment do you require before we depart on your ship?"
Screechy, or rather Qhour was speaking to her in the language her father had used. The very first language she had learned to mimic. She honestly hadn’t heard that language in years. It took her a few moments to find the proper words again and respond in Auran, in the words her father had used, a monotone voice, lower in pitch than Rya’s words, which she had been mimicking before.
“I am Scout. It is both name and rank I guess. I know as much as you, but my friend should be able to help us find out.”
She turned away from the other bird and focused her eyes back on the boatman. His hand was extended and he wanted something. He wanted to take them somewhere, for a price. The others in his boat seemed miserable and Scout did not want to be part of that. They were now dead, which meant that her last memory was her death and not of a relaxing break by the sea. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Scout would rather have been dead on the material plane, not dead and stuck in literal hell. Maybe she shouldn't have smuggled poison in her life and instead worshipped a god. Too little too late she thought. Live in the present, not the past. Eyes forward, not back.
“What if we don’t go with you? What if we go alone?”
She spoke up, stepping out so she was no longer behind Rya, but rather beside. Her hand still grasped the dagger beneath her cloak, but her other hand let go of Rya. More light had returned and with it, Scout’s bravery.
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The Ogre looks quite upset that you're flailing around on top of him! More tears spray forth from his cheeks.
He lets out a loud yelp as the cold damage takes hold, some of the tears freezing to his cheeks like small icicles.
Still under the effects of command, the poor Ogre just stands there as your "friends" mercilessly attack him. He was only scared and defending himself after all.
Still pinned.
The Ogre stands there at his roughly 10' feet height, tears spilling from his cheeks with some turning to small flakes of snow from Scout's spell. He drops down onto his butt and sits down in the dirt, wailing as loud as possible. The sound is quite off-putting, but you sort of get the idea that this Ogre was just picking up corpses to eat, and you indeed terrified him by your loud and boisterous activities.
"I just wanted snack. You scare me big." He lets out another guttural wail as more tears spill out and down his cheeks.
Setting The Scene
Paul Dure is still pinned down and restrained in the back of the cart, pinned down by the various corpses. You can make a DC 10 Strength Saving Throws to free yourselves from the cart.
Outside of the cart is a vast expanse of reddish wasteland stretching as far as the eye can see beneath a blistering red sun. Directly next to the cart on the left is Qhour, perched on the side of the cart with the Ogre about 5ft away and swinging its weapon at Qhour to ensure this creature he thought was dead goes back to being that way. About ten feet behind them is a raging, green river, the River Styx. Standing at the front of the cart are both Rya, and Scout.
Qhour: You're now directly behind him, your command spell preventing him from getting an attack of opportunity against you.
Scout: You're standing at the front of the cart now. The Ogre is about 5 feet to your left, the river ten feet beyond that. He's clearly upset about being battered around for only defending himself.
Rya: You're perched on his shoulders.
Paul: You're still pinned under the pile of massive corpses.
Current Party HitPoints & Details
Paul Dure - 16/16 - Restrained, Prone
Qhour - 19/28
Rya - 24/24
Scout - 15/15
Ogre - 33/59
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Rya cringed as the Ogre wailed. Although she had taken no damage, the wailing was painful to listen to. How could such a massive being be so... pathetic? Stabbing him again in this state would bring her nothing, but what else was she or Scout supposed to do... now was a good a time as ever to try to talk to this blubbering baby. Rya put her daggers back into their sheathes before she climbed down from the Ogre and stood next to Screechy, but kept closer to Scout in case things went awry.
Persuasion check:21
That was the reason Scout liked Rya. She knew lots of words and how to use them. It was a bit odd to see such a large imposing creature reduced to nothing more than a blubbering mess on the ground. Scout wasn't going to lie, knowing she at least helped bring such a creature down made her feel bold and powerful. Now that they had taken care of the immediate threat, Scout was all too aware of the goo that was beginning to dry and stick her feathers together. She would need such a long bath after this whole ordeal was over.
To help Rya illustrate her point, Scout hit the side of the cart trying to jostle the bodies within.
Qhour kept his Warhammer ready. He glanced at the dark Half-Elf and said,
He then jumped back up onto the meat wagon and looked for the blue person he had spotted during his flight. He found him still mostly covered in goo and death.
And he held out his hand to help.
7
"Okay."
The Ogre stands up, brushes the red dirt and frozen tears off of his chest and moves towards the cart and digs through it. He grabs the very dead body of the dwarf in the back of the meat-wagon and raises the corpse up to his mouth and tears the leg off with his gnarled and broken teeth. He tosses the remainder of the dead dwarf back into the cart, and digs around for something he saw moving in the back and for whatever Qhour was reaching for in the back.
He reaches in and picks up the Vedalken quite easily in his massive hands, and hoists him into the air and drops him on the ground with a dull thud. Then, without any sort of recognition to any of you, he approaches the front of the cart, picks up the hoists and continues pulling the meat-wagon back down the bank of the river, and eventually passes out of sight behind a large cluster of rocks around a bend in the river.
Setting The Scene
Around you all is a vast expanse of reddish wasteland stretching as far as the eye can see beneath a blistering red sun. Directly next to you on the left is a raging, green river, the River Styx. About sixty feet in front of you are the cluster of large boulders at the bend of the river that the Ogre vanished behind. The sun is massive, and red and you have no idea what time it could be, you don't recognize anything about this place.
In the far distance, you see what looks to be a small black tower on the horizon behind you to the south. There's a large crack of thunder in the distance, and the smell of sulphur quickly fills your nostrils for a moment before vanishing again.
What do you all wanna do?
Current Party HitPoints & Details
Paul Dure - 16/16
Qhour - 19/28
Rya - 24/24
Scout - 15/15
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Rya watched as the Ogre ate his snack, and then proceed to remove another living being from the cart, a Vedalken. Once he was removed, he continued on his way with the meat wagon out of sight. Rya breathed a sigh of relief - that was a risk talking him down but it was worth it. There had been riskier things she had tried over the years - Scout could attest to that. Not all of them had played out as smoothly as that did... if you could call it smooth.
Rya looked between the river and at the dark tower in the distance. Looking at the river sent a shiver through her thinking about the last time she was in a body of water, but if she had to do it, she had to do it. Both options didn't look great, but there wasn't much her or Scout could do. As long as she could get her partner and herself out of here alive was all that mattered.
Scout watched the ogre leave after dropping another body with them. The group was just getting bigger and bigger by the moment.
She looked out to the river that ran through the land near them, then back to their two new companions. One was very curious looking, since Scout hadn't noticed him in the cart before she left. Rya had referred to him as Wagon Boy. Did she know him perhaps? She had names for both their new companions. There was safety in numbers and the one Rya called Screechy seemed to be pretty handy in a fight. The other one... They would have to see. Maybe he just woke up, maybe he was scared of ogres. Scout couldn't think of any other reason why it would have taken him so long to get out of the cart.
Qhour jumped down off the cart as he saw the ogre coming. He watched as the monster lifted the blue person out and dropped him on the ground.
He looked towards the distant tower.
He casts cure wounds on himself. 3
Paul Dure' - finally - stands up, muttering distractedly to himself.
Belatedly, Paul sees the others standing around.
For the sake of things, let's have you all describe what your characters look like in detail please so we can all get an idea what we'd be seeing. It helps me out too!
Setting The Scene
The Ogre has now vanished from sight, and the river seems to not be flowing in any set direction at the moment. As you all ponder on what to do, you suddenly watch as a small boat slowly makes its way down the river coming from the direction the Ogre vanished in. You notice a hooded, robed figure standing at the tip of the boat with an oar, pushing the boat along towards you all.
Almost suddenly, the area is plunged into darkness, almost as if night-time has arrived into this strange land where you are. You can make out the bobbing of a lantern on the boat, and as the figure approaches you notice this quite long oar has a lantern tied to the end of it. The boat stops in front of the four of you, and the figure looks out at you, two piercing yellow eyes staring out from under a hood of complete darkness.
"Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?"
The figure continues to look at you all, his head resting against its tall, lantern-clad oar. Upon closer inspection the figure's appearance is that of a skeletal man with glowing eyes in a haggard face. The figure is wearing what appears to be worn and frayed robes of silk. The figure looks to be about 6 feet tall. The hands appear to be bony claws and the feet appear to be slightly webbed.
His voice sounds like the sound of cracking ice meeting the sound of rattling bones. It's chilling, cold and seemingly devoid of any emotion.
Current Party HitPoints & Details
Paul Dure - 16/16
Qhour - 22/38
Rya - 24/24
Scout - 15/15
DM/Founder for Mimics & Monstrosities, a D&D network.
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Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Rya’s grey eyes locked onto the yellow eyes of this figure – it felt as though she was looking into a void. There was no emotion being conveyed, only darkness. Never before had she encountered such a being that sent a chill down her spine the way this creature did. The fact it had apparently stripped the world from its light was another matter entirely. The only similarity this being had encounter with Rya was the cloak they both wore – Rya’s more cared for... except today.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Her eyes glanced over to the river and she caught a reflection of herself. The grey in her eyes seemed so dull - she was tired and she knew it. This whole experience had been exhausting. From everything that happened today, her appearance almost didn't appearance didn't seem like her own. Her hands were bare - normally she would have worn gloves during an encounter, but those were last on the ship she and Scout where on. She took her hand and brushed a piece of her white hair back behind her ear – being seemingly resurrected had provided a level of dishevelledness that she did not appreciate. The drying guts from the previous unfortunate souls made her shoulder length hair stick to her dusky skin. Having shoulder length hair for Rya had never been a problem until today. Her cloak was stained from blood, but the blackened fabric made those stains less noticeable, especially in the dim lighting. It was not a problem for her to see – having the blood of Drow flow through her veins had given her eyesight the boost other humans longed for. She took her hand and gently pried away her hood on her cloak to stop it from drying stuck on the back.
Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?
Rya looking down at her leather boots – goo covered as well. At least none had made it inside her boots - her pants being tucked into them had at least stopped that unpleasantness from occurring. No matter where she looked on her body – her leather armour, her daggers on either hips, the backpack she wore with her other equipment – all of it was covered. She knew Scout was covered in the same terrible goop she was, and damned if she was going to let her friend suffer. Where did the flow of the Styx take her? She knew.
Hopefully this being would be persuaded into proving them with a means to get to a place to wash even if it would not provide it directly. She already rode an ogre today - this encountered seemed less risky to her.
Persuasion: 10
Standing at 4'8, Scout knew she was on the shorter side. Usually it was a gift, it allowed her to sneak and squeeze into tight places which was very handy during her days as a smuggler. But, in moments like this when darkness took her vision away, it just made her feel small and vulnerable. She let out a quiet whimper and moved closer to Rya, reaching out a hand to grab the back of her friend's cloak. She wore a cloak similar in style to her friend, the black of her cloak blending in with the black of the feathers that covered most of her body. With the hand not holding onto her friend's cloak, she reached inside her cloak and patted her vest to grab the handle of the dagger kept inside. The vest was the fanciest thing she owned, made from a fine fabric and passed down from her father with various trinkets she collected over the years attached to the belt tied around it. Her pants were more simple, hiding her wand. She didn't like many people knowing she had a magical aptitude. Magic was for life or death situations. Most tight spots could be solved with her friend's words, or a dagger if words didn't work. No sense wasting magic on simple squabbles. The fact that these two new companions of hers had seen her use magic was unusual, but this was an unusual place they all found themselves in.
From the darkness emerged a light, carried by a figure atop a boat. The figure sent shivers down Scout's spine and she moved closer to Rya, focusing her beady eyes on the light and what was illuminated by it's glow.
The darkness could take away her vision, but it wouldn't take away her fight and this newcomer with a beacon of light wasn't to be trusted. In this new land they found themselves in, nothing, and no one was. Scout's hand clasped tighter around the dagger and she removed it from it's hiding spot, keeping it hidden inside the cloak. Was the shadows cast by the lantern playing tricks on her eyes or was this figure a skeleton?
Qhour scuffed his talons in the dirt to remove as much of the gore as he could. He knew that the back of the black robes that he wore over his chain mail had some corpse goo on the back, but, as he had been on the top of the pile on the cart, he wasn't as filthy as the rest of his new companions. Standing next to the Kenku he noticed that they are almost the same height. He may be an inch taller, but that's all. His pure white feathers were a stark contrast to her black. He said to her in Auran,
He looks to the others and, in Common, says.
He suddenly notices a small boat slowly making its way down the river, coming from the direction the Ogre vanished in. There is a hooded, robed figure standing at the tip of the boat with an oar with a lantern hanging on it, pushing the boat along towards the group. Suddenly it's dark. As if night had suddenly fallen. Qhour grips his Warhammer and readies the shield strapped to his arm. He shrugs his shoulder a bit to settle the pack on his back, between his wings, a little more comfortably. He pulled up the large hood of his robe to cover the white feathers of his head, which had a tendency to show (almost glow) in the dark. He pulled his wings in through the specially made slits in the back of his robe for the same reason.
The dark figure in the boat said, "Where does the flow of the Styx be taking ye?"
Qhour says,
He shook his head. I don't feel dead, he thought, but his last memories are of dying under the swords of his enemies. Many enemies. Many swords. My King! He glanced down at the small golden crown embroidered onto the left breast of his robes. His insignia of rank. Captain of the King's Guard. Second son of the King.
Paul stands, muttering still.
Looking around, seeing the others staring, Paul finally sees the boat. And the driver...
Paul thinks for a moment, sure this scene is familiar somehow.
History check: 11
"Well lads, ladies and.. . Birdies? This here is one of rivers of the Outer Planes. And do you know? I'm not only mess, I think I may be dead? Well. Shit. There goes the afternoon."
Turning to the boatman, Paul says "Where are ye bound ya bag o bones?"
The Boatman just stares at you.
"The beings that dwell down here are used to being unwashed and basking in the filth of the damned. Ye might want to get used to it as well, but you're always welcome to take a dip." He gestures towards the river.
"You're very much dead, yes. I can smell the death on you all." The figure seems pleased by this, a small bone-rattling sounding laugh emanating from within the hood.
"Bag of Bones? You all clearly have no idea whom you're speaking to." The figure waves his hand and the river begins flowing in all sorts of directions, almost chaotic in its movement. The figure then brightens the lantern on his boat's oar, and motions for you all to come aboard.
Setting The Scene
"My name is Charon (KAY-run), I am the boatman of this here River Styx and I be ferrying the souls of those whom end up here to wherever they desire down here." He motions towards a gnarled, and very gaunt and starved looking Gnome huddled in the corner covered in blankets, and shivering, the sound of their teeth chattering only slightly audible. Charon turns back to the four of you and motions again for you to come aboard.
"I can ferry you down the river in either direction to a location that you so very desire...for a price. Be careful not to touch the water."
The Gnome in the back of the boat appears like they may have frozen to death in life, and that's why they seem to shivering constantly. Almost as if they've been forced to spend an eternity freezing to death, but never succumbing. As you inspect and stare at the boat some more, you notice there seem to be other "souls" in the boat as well, all silent but well aware of their surroundings. They do not speak, or make eye contact, they're all either staring at the floor of the boat or off into space.
Charon himself still stands at the tip of the boat, his arms outstretched, gesturing for you to come aboard.
Current Party HitPoints & Details
Paul Dure - 16/16
Qhour - 22/38
Rya - 24/24
Scout - 15/15
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Rya could feel the vice grip of Scout on the back of her cloak. Her companion was unable to see in the dark, and it was obvious to Rya she was afraid. Whether Scout was afraid of the sudden darkness or afraid of this figure, it was understandable. This entire situation was something to be uneasy about. The intentions of this figure was yet to be determined. On the surface, Rya had a bad feeling about this figure. It could be though that Scout was causing Rya to view this figure more negatively that she should have. The realization that they were all dead unsettled her more than she thought it would as it settled with her. She certainly didn't feel dead, just dirty. For Scout's sake, she would have to keep her views on her own mortality buried. Looking over the other souls in the boat, Rya was filled with dread.
Rya glanced at the others near her. What was this price? What could such a price be when you're dead? If it would keep Scout safe, she would pay any price for her partner - no gamble was too big for Rya to take when it came to her and her partner.
Screechy, or rather Qhour was speaking to her in the language her father had used. The very first language she had learned to mimic. She honestly hadn’t heard that language in years. It took her a few moments to find the proper words again and respond in Auran, in the words her father had used, a monotone voice, lower in pitch than Rya’s words, which she had been mimicking before.
She turned away from the other bird and focused her eyes back on the boatman. His hand was extended and he wanted something. He wanted to take them somewhere, for a price. The others in his boat seemed miserable and Scout did not want to be part of that. They were now dead, which meant that her last memory was her death and not of a relaxing break by the sea. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Scout would rather have been dead on the material plane, not dead and stuck in literal hell. Maybe she shouldn't have smuggled poison in her life and instead worshipped a god. Too little too late she thought. Live in the present, not the past. Eyes forward, not back.
She spoke up, stepping out so she was no longer behind Rya, but rather beside. Her hand still grasped the dagger beneath her cloak, but her other hand let go of Rya. More light had returned and with it, Scout’s bravery.