In the darkness a voice speaks. It's slow, raspy, and dripping with judgement...
"The Raven Queen's rebukes always come swiftly, don't they? Bursting forth in mess of feathers and pain. Nothing exists, except her love and disapproval. You'd think after all this time, you'd have learned to stay in your lane, little one. But no, you do enjoy flirting with her boundaries. Did you not notice her caresses of sweet, sweet agony had taken on a certain sharpness of late? No doubt, your growing curiosity of the undead and its reanimation was causing her some distress."
The darkness is lifting, and the voice feels closer than it was before...
"Apparently, you crossed a line somewhere and ended up here. Poor you. But, you're not the first, most like you end up here at some point. Think of it as a mandatory probationary period."
An orange glow is all around you and the smell of ozone fills your nostrils...
Now, I don't have all millenia. Won't you get up off the ground?"
Gwyllen's consciousness fires, then fires again, and again like an erratic heartbeat. She groans and tries to feel her body, but can't be sure if it is even there...
The darkness is overwhelming and an all-encompassing voice gains entry into her mind, pressing itself deep into her ear canals. The voice's point of origin is inconceivable, the darkness maddening. She attempts to understand, only to be stricken by fear as the voice becomes clear and threatening, speaking of her torment and allegiance as if it knows more than she.
Gwyllen shakes her... head?... and blinks slowly as the orange glow fills her awareness with light. Her senses seem skewed and she doesn't understand whether or not she's sitting on a surface, or really exists at all... but the voice says to stand. She doesn't seem to have any better ideas, so she musters every meaning that she can take from the command, and feels herself standing.
Still not sure of her state of being or location, she sighs deeply."If you are a ******* Fey trickster, I'm going to shit on your pillow..." she mutters.
Now standing, Gwyllen continues to shake her head to clear her mind and awaken her body. When she does, she begins to realize the orange glow is emanating from a single source, directly ahead of her. Though her eyes are taking longer than she would like to adjust, her skin is alive and sending messages of its own.
Goosebumps were forming on her skin. A curious sensation was gently rippling all over her body and up her spine. It was exhilarating and overly personal, everywhere and nowhere, all at once. The final flourish ended on her lips, causing them both to tremble from being exposed. Her body instinctively shivered from the caress and then felt nothing, but a chill that had started to descend on her fingers and toes.
Her sense of smell continued to bring her nothing of use, but as her defense mechanism, cloaked in outrage, crossed her tongue there was something there. Something metallic...something familiar.
The rasping, labored voice inhaled shortly at her words and whispered cruely, "If only..."
Continuing in the same biased tone as before, "You are not one to control your emotions, are you? I can see for myself that our Mistresses' flocking worked for you. She must be paying special attention for some reason. It is not an obvious one, I assure you."
Gwyllen hears the entity in front of her take another labored breath to ask, "Can you see me yet? We have much to discuss before this form runs out of time."
Gwyllen touches the fingers of her left hand to her lips as the energy washes over her. She feels as though she has been slightly violated, which is strange, given the fact that she is only now becoming aware of her physical form again. Feeling the chill in her toes and feeling her icy touch press against her lip, she glances down to her feet. In the orange light, her dusty skin looks pallid and strange. As an afterthought, she notes that she appears to be completely lacking all of her equipment - all of it.
Taking in deep breaths, she closes her eyes and licks her lips, laying her open hands on her bare chest and letting her hands roll down her body goose-bumped skin to her hips. Rolling back her shoulders and stretching her neck, she allows her eyes to slowly reopen and focus before her. That smell... was it blood? She wasn't even sure if it was repulsive or alluring.
Focusing on the chill in her bones, she opens her palms toward the speaker and gives her most glowing smile, eyes blazing with leaping purple flames. Feeling the plane beneath her begin to warm beneath her feet, she clenches her fists, pulling the flames up over her chilly toes and over her knees, to lick their way across her arms and breasts to meet with her violet eyes.
"It seems you have the advantage here, my... friend. Why don't you tell me what you're getting at? What do you want from me and where am I? Has my Queen sold my Pact to you in yet another Fey agreement at my expense? I do hope you're at the very least more helpful than the last few beings I've interacted with... what a bunch of louts they were. I am sure that I have no choice in the matter, but I do hope you're not my new Patron. I can make plenty of orange light and odd smells without your help." she swists her mouth into a half-cocked grin and rolls her eyes sarcastically.
As Gwyllen refocuses her fiery eyes and mind, she is met with a scene so unfamiliar that her senses cannot take in its scope immediately.
In front of her is a very large, ring-shaped structure. Looking ancient and weathered, the sphere is topped with a crown of ornate decorations surrounding a splayed bird. Perched on each side of the form's pinnacle are two ravens looking down at her. They cock their heads from side to side as each of you consider the other.
Adding movement to the scene are tendrils of black wisps and orange lightning battling for dominance all around the outer edges. When they clash, the energy sends ripples over the reflective surface inside the metal-ish frame. Each time they spark, Gwellyn's hair stands on end and she feels a pulse in her chest. This sensation is also familiar.
Focusing now at the form's base, there is a sitting, hooded figure bathed in the brightest of the orange glow. It's slender frame is hunched over and leaning to one side. There appears to be some form of table in front of it, which the entity leans heavily on. There also seems to be two metallic chairs on either side of the table.
Her mind comes fully present, as a slow, sardonic chuckle emanates from underneath the creature's hood.
More labored breathes produce, "With everything you see, I say, and you feel, there's still doubt in your mind as to whom you serve? A bit thick, you are." It coughs roughly, and continues, "Do not group me with those lesser being you so eagerly joined not that long ago. Also, do not presume that you and your very short story are not known to me. Though, there is only one that truly know your heart and mind, and that beautiful being is your Mistress and mine."
The voices turns sharp and spits, "The Raven Queen bids you to serve her, petulant child of man. Do you refuse or deny her will? Beware that you answer will affect everything that comes to pass going forward. Perhaps, you take a moment to consider? Maybe your doubt will be your downfall."
Gwyllen turns her head just so, in a way that thoroughly channels the side glance of a large bird. She gives the creature an evil eye of speculation... and begins laughing.
"If you serve the Queen, then perhaps you haven't been thoroughly briefed by her. I am NOTHING, if not a shell to serve as a conduit of Her awesome power. My decisions on this plane and the next will be judged by the Queen, and she frequently corrects my course when she finds my mind wandering. The excruciating caress of her feathers upon my mind is nearly enough to crush this mortal form, so I find that it is more than sufficient in alleviating any possible doubts that could possibly linger at this point."
"I belong to the Raven, and am the administrator and avatar of her Talons upon the face of the firmament. There is no doubt, Gate Keeper. I do not fool myself, however; I have been raped of my humanity.
"Should I call you Omega, or would that be too cute?"her eyes flicker with mirth as she steps forward, feathers rippling out of her every pour and growing into a thick coat across her skin. Along her arms, feathers the size of short swords rip through her flesh and emulate small wings.
"I am not but a watchful Raven. And what, exactly are you?"
She continues in Elvish- "Ha seems cin padad- closelui with gurth. Are cin a test -o mui dedication; a tainted cuil i should n- returned na its sennui near?"
She waves her hands and delicate script appears before her in the air, then turns to frost and dissipates.
Waving its free hand dismissively at the wrist, the sitting figure coughs and sputters, "Yes, yes, your display of fealty is impressive, and as for your humanity, it is the only thing you have intact. Be glad for it."
The entity's body is then wracked with a coughing fit. Wheezing accompanies the wet sounds, as the figure doubles over trying to catch its breath. In the final moments of the grotesque display, the hooded one spits to the side a dark mass of thick substance to clear the way. This time, the smell is unmistakable. Blood is now oozing down what looks like large stone cobbles at its feet.
Clearing its throat as it draws its hood back, the figure states with a sense of formality, "I am one of the Queen's Immortal Servants. My name is...honestly unimportant. So, yes, for now you may call me Omega."
"See, I can do cute," he adds, lifting his eyebrows in amused mockery.
Underneath the hood is an ashen high-elf with piercing pale eyes. His glare conveys a strong intellect far too old for the face too match.
Going on with a sense of urgency, "Now that we are acquainted, let me tell you the short version. The longer one will have to wait until I have returned. The Raven Queen has found you straying from her path and in need of direction. You have gone a bit too far in your short-sided curiosity with the physical form of the dead. You think there is power there, and there is, but you are focusing on the wrong part. True power comes from harvesting memories, and the secrets they hold, from those about to wade into the river of death. The body is nothing, but a shell, once the essence leaves. Only those who hold vanity and control in high regard believe there is anything of use in animated decay."
"Our Mistress believes you don't understand the true path she asks you to walk. So, she has tasked me with teaching you how to collect and harness the power of memories. Otherwise, you will fail her and put your destiny at risk."
Softening a bit, he adds, "Have you ever thought about the potential that lies between life and death? Existence has more layers then the material world reveals, and we can travel there to find out. It won't be easy or nice at times, but it will prove to you that your thinking was small and your goals even smaller."
Coughing more, before continuing, "However, before we begin this reeducation. This form is dying and my soul needs to be resurrected before we continue.The passage here was fraught with more danger than I anticipated. Thus, I arrived far later than you. This is why you find yourself in this revealing predicament. Something or someone has given you a good once over, like that one over there. (Pointing to a skeleton to your right.) I believe there are some clothes still around, if I remember correctly."
"This shouldn't take too long, so don't go terribly far, but then again time is an afterthought on this plane," he muses. Adding quickly, "I'm sure you'll be fine for a while."
With those words, the gate's smooth mirrored surface erupts with shadows and envelopes him. Both of the ravens at the top of the sphere call out in response with the one on the left taking flight and heading into the gate. Orange lightning crackles and arches heavily off the structure, landing in front of you.
The lightning arch crashes down onto Gwyllen with such force that she is driven to her knees. Never before has she tasted, felt, or been consumed by such magic. Her mind is everywhere, frantically trying to make sense of what is happening to her, when a black wisp of shadow reaches out to feed on her, as well.
The two energies do battle within her, each gaining and losing ground in equal measure. Just as Gwyllen's mind begins to fracture, the forces retreat leaving her body shaking and mind spent.
Images reverberating in her head are of far away places and strange contraptions, but they bring her a sense of dread and foreboding. Her mind becomes fixated and overwhelmed. Leaving Gwyllen with a strong sense of that she cannot affect anything that is to come. She is too weak and small to make a difference. Everything is just too much to bear.
Two things happen:
1) Pls mark on your sheet with a new flaw: I don't believe I can make a difference to anyone or anything.
After a long rest, Gwyllen will need to make a WIS saving throw. If she fails, she keeps the flaw. During this time, if she must make a death saving throw, she does so at a disadvantage. The pattern is repeated once per day at a disadvantage, until she succeeds. Then, the flaw is removed.
2) The flashes have caused her to become proficient in arcana, history, nature, and religion. If she is already proficient, she doubles her proficiency bonus. To retain what she now knows, she must make a INT check once per day. If she fails, she reverts back to normal.
As the arch retreats, so does the gate's activity, leaving Gwyllen illuminated only by the sphere's now faint orange glow.
She is naked, on her knees, and with the insistent call from the raven on the right in her ears. Omega has disappeared into the gate.
Gwyllen holds her head, screaming and croaking like a sickly crow. Her mind is unbelievably addled, her psyche snapped like a twig, her pneuma ruthlessly ripped away from her being.
She retches and vomits blackish phlegm, weeping as she continues to emote. The air around her is frigid and tingling, static crackling and popping, the distant giggling of Fey voices mocking her mind. Her guts and heart feel twisted and bound and a despair and sense of uselessness descends upon her like an anvil.
She turns blurry eyes to the Raven and her mind cracks again. She pulls herself to all fours and begins cawing at the top of her lungs, bloody spray arcing behind her vertebrae as feathery spines writhe from within her. She drags herself towards the bird, focused on it, anchored by it.
A wellspring of useless curiosity blooms within her even though she cares not, even though she knows it is for nothing. But she can't help but think upon the strange effects of the portal's power, the will of the Queen, where she is and where she should go.
She lets herself sink into these thoughts, discarding her physical form and conscious actions into the void of Corvid instinct. She hardly notices as another, larger Raven rises from her ribs, ripping itself away from her to complete the triad in a raucous cacophony; Fiachra channels Gwyllen's anguish doubly.
Effects of Fey Touched are also plaguing her mind, laughing at her.
Lying there, Gwyllen could feel the feather flocking return, sending pulses of melancholy and elation over her mutated flesh. Its continual apexes leaving her breathless. Only when her senses began to clear and pain recede did her Queen's care start to wane.
With her mind more her own and the cool stone grounding her, Gwyllen realizes the black wisps are stronger, yet less personal, versions of the flocking. The gate is a portal to the Shadow Realm, and for a moment, she was wrapped in its sorrowful embrace. The Raven on the Right calls out to her, sending a secondary, but less intense, wave of flocking up her spine in despondent approval.
By then, the apathy had taken hold in her chest causing shortness of breath and her over taxed heart to pump out of rhythm. Her emotional upheaval was then interrupted by flashes of discord and wars. No matter how how she tried, she couldn't make sense of them. Even the slightest thought in their direction caused her mind to flood, leaving her drowning in imagery and sound.
Gwyllen lay there for an unknowable amount of time, resting and gathering herself.
While Gwyllen tries to right herself, the despair takes root. Her mind, however, is hive of possibilities and information. She can now catch glimpses of new spells, an immense mountain range, and all manner of answers to unknown questions. She is caught between both sensations, while they continually battle for her attention.
The Raven on the Right soon jumps down from the gate and drags some kind of garment over to her. Once placed, after having been repositioned a few times, the bird nudges your head and picks at your hair. It's caws go from grumbles to full on calls the longer Gwyl lays there.
Gwyllen groans and stands to her feet, taking a look at the covering the Raven set on her. She pulls it tighter around her shoulders and shivers, once again heating the ground below her with a slight movement in her hand.
Looking at the Raven, she raises her eyebrows –“Well, let’s be off then. Surely you’re as sick of being here as I am.”
Fiachra flutters up to her shoulder and their eyes both become slightly glassy as she waits for the Raven of the Gate to lead them away.
Perception boosted with an additional modifier based on both Charisma and Wisdom with Fiachra on Gwyllen’s shoulder. - 9
The RotR once again cocks its head back and forth, cawing its approve at Gwyl's resolve to stand. This causes an instinctive need to find a better vantage point, so it hops back to the table, where Omega had been some time before. Finding it's place on top, the raven begins to preen its feathers, focusing its entire attention on the task at hand.
Now erect and shivering, Gwyllen can see more of her surroundings.
In front of her is the portal, table, and chair-like daises, to the right is a skeleton who's previous owner must have died in a dramatic, stretched out fashion.
Looking up, she is beneath a sky of shining stars and astral phenomena, light is cresting from all directions, breaking up the gloom and illuminating the landscape. She is atop a plateau on the edge of a weathered mountain range and standing on unfamiliar ground.
After spending time marveling at the scene now bathed in orange and red hues, she looks to her left and sees a dusty pile of something on the stones. The RotR must've carried the cloth she is now wrapped in from there.
Gwyllen tears her eyes away from the alien scene, disoriented but somehow determined to move forward. She considers the skeleton by the near the daise and guesses that its owner’s demise had something to do with an experience similar to the one she had so painfully experienced a moment before.
Looking towards the pile of unknown usefulness, she shrugs and moves towards it, rubbing her palms together, then breathing her cool breath through them. A frosty mist exits her cupped hands and takes the lead, sparkling tendrils poking and propping the pile as she stands several feet back, wary of everything around her now.
Glancing towards the table and skeleton, she decides she will very carefully explore those next… as the ghostly mage hands starts searching the lump, she leans down to pick up a stone and tosses it towards them to see if the portal will react.
Something behind Gwyllen clears it throat, and says in a slow drawl, "Excuse me, Miss, that's not gonna work. Believe me, we've tried...on more than one occasion."
Another voice, deeper, slower, yet more thoughtful says, "Correct."Pause."We thought you were dead."Pause."You are not."Pause."Thank the gods."Pause.
"Yes, yes," says the young one, and adds, "Would you like your things back?"
Standing behind her are two chaps with hats in hands and sheepish grins on their faces.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Gwyllen whips around at the sound of the first strange voice, losing her concentration on the magical hand that was digging through the pile in front of her (but still wondering if there was anything interesting to be found there).
Her ears burst into crimson flames and a veil of icey mist begins falling around her - Fiachra caws three times, ominously. "More surprises, how exciting"she sibilates in a low growl."If you have taken my things, I would certainly like them back." She is more than a little bit put off by these continuing strange occurrences and rolls her eyes recalling the last Tortle she had seen - a bumbling oaf who tended to retreat into his shell during battles with large groups of Vampires. Her vexed Fey energies roll off her in sickening waves.
Something that everyone nearby can feel, causing them anxiety and nausea - Fey touched
Surveying the two more closely, she finds the massive pile of trinkets and equipment on the younger of the two's back to be quite odd indeed. The fires in her eyes go out as she drops her guard slightly and her energy output lessens.
"I am Gwyllen, follower of the Raven Queen and apparently now a sojourner in this unfamiliar place..."
"I've never seen such a collection carried all at once. Perhaps you have some other helpful items for a weary traveler...?" she nibbles her lip sheepishly and pokes her toe in the soil. Fiachra gives her a side eye from its perch on her shoulder; she could swear it is conveying how ridiculous she is.
Persuasion - 23
"What are your names? What can you tell me about this place?"she asks, finally.
In the darkness a voice speaks. It's slow, raspy, and dripping with judgement...
"The Raven Queen's rebukes always come swiftly, don't they? Bursting forth in mess of feathers and pain. Nothing exists, except her love and disapproval. You'd think after all this time, you'd have learned to stay in your lane, little one. But no, you do enjoy flirting with her boundaries. Did you not notice her caresses of sweet, sweet agony had taken on a certain sharpness of late? No doubt, your growing curiosity of the undead and its reanimation was causing her some distress."
The darkness is lifting, and the voice feels closer than it was before...
"Apparently, you crossed a line somewhere and ended up here. Poor you. But, you're not the first, most like you end up here at some point. Think of it as a mandatory probationary period."
An orange glow is all around you and the smell of ozone fills your nostrils...
Now, I don't have all millenia. Won't you get up off the ground?"
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen's consciousness fires, then fires again, and again like an erratic heartbeat. She groans and tries to feel her body, but can't be sure if it is even there...
The darkness is overwhelming and an all-encompassing voice gains entry into her mind, pressing itself deep into her ear canals. The voice's point of origin is inconceivable, the darkness maddening. She attempts to understand, only to be stricken by fear as the voice becomes clear and threatening, speaking of her torment and allegiance as if it knows more than she.
Gwyllen shakes her... head?... and blinks slowly as the orange glow fills her awareness with light. Her senses seem skewed and she doesn't understand whether or not she's sitting on a surface, or really exists at all... but the voice says to stand. She doesn't seem to have any better ideas, so she musters every meaning that she can take from the command, and feels herself standing.
Still not sure of her state of being or location, she sighs deeply. "If you are a ******* Fey trickster, I'm going to shit on your pillow..." she mutters.
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
Now standing, Gwyllen continues to shake her head to clear her mind and awaken her body. When she does, she begins to realize the orange glow is emanating from a single source, directly ahead of her. Though her eyes are taking longer than she would like to adjust, her skin is alive and sending messages of its own.
Goosebumps were forming on her skin. A curious sensation was gently rippling all over her body and up her spine. It was exhilarating and overly personal, everywhere and nowhere, all at once. The final flourish ended on her lips, causing them both to tremble from being exposed. Her body instinctively shivered from the caress and then felt nothing, but a chill that had started to descend on her fingers and toes.
Her sense of smell continued to bring her nothing of use, but as her defense mechanism, cloaked in outrage, crossed her tongue there was something there. Something metallic...something familiar.
The rasping, labored voice inhaled shortly at her words and whispered cruely, "If only..."
Continuing in the same biased tone as before, "You are not one to control your emotions, are you? I can see for myself that our Mistresses' flocking worked for you. She must be paying special attention for some reason. It is not an obvious one, I assure you."
Gwyllen hears the entity in front of her take another labored breath to ask, "Can you see me yet? We have much to discuss before this form runs out of time."
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen touches the fingers of her left hand to her lips as the energy washes over her. She feels as though she has been slightly violated, which is strange, given the fact that she is only now becoming aware of her physical form again. Feeling the chill in her toes and feeling her icy touch press against her lip, she glances down to her feet. In the orange light, her dusty skin looks pallid and strange. As an afterthought, she notes that she appears to be completely lacking all of her equipment - all of it.
Taking in deep breaths, she closes her eyes and licks her lips, laying her open hands on her bare chest and letting her hands roll down her body goose-bumped skin to her hips. Rolling back her shoulders and stretching her neck, she allows her eyes to slowly reopen and focus before her. That smell... was it blood? She wasn't even sure if it was repulsive or alluring.
Focusing on the chill in her bones, she opens her palms toward the speaker and gives her most glowing smile, eyes blazing with leaping purple flames. Feeling the plane beneath her begin to warm beneath her feet, she clenches her fists, pulling the flames up over her chilly toes and over her knees, to lick their way across her arms and breasts to meet with her violet eyes.
"It seems you have the advantage here, my... friend. Why don't you tell me what you're getting at? What do you want from me and where am I? Has my Queen sold my Pact to you in yet another Fey agreement at my expense? I do hope you're at the very least more helpful than the last few beings I've interacted with... what a bunch of louts they were. I am sure that I have no choice in the matter, but I do hope you're not my new Patron. I can make plenty of orange light and odd smells without your help." she swists her mouth into a half-cocked grin and rolls her eyes sarcastically.
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
As Gwyllen refocuses her fiery eyes and mind, she is met with a scene so unfamiliar that her senses cannot take in its scope immediately.
In front of her is a very large, ring-shaped structure. Looking ancient and weathered, the sphere is topped with a crown of ornate decorations surrounding a splayed bird. Perched on each side of the form's pinnacle are two ravens looking down at her. They cock their heads from side to side as each of you consider the other.
Adding movement to the scene are tendrils of black wisps and orange lightning battling for dominance all around the outer edges. When they clash, the energy sends ripples over the reflective surface inside the metal-ish frame. Each time they spark, Gwellyn's hair stands on end and she feels a pulse in her chest. This sensation is also familiar.
Focusing now at the form's base, there is a sitting, hooded figure bathed in the brightest of the orange glow. It's slender frame is hunched over and leaning to one side. There appears to be some form of table in front of it, which the entity leans heavily on. There also seems to be two metallic chairs on either side of the table.
Her mind comes fully present, as a slow, sardonic chuckle emanates from underneath the creature's hood.
More labored breathes produce, "With everything you see, I say, and you feel, there's still doubt in your mind as to whom you serve? A bit thick, you are." It coughs roughly, and continues, "Do not group me with those lesser being you so eagerly joined not that long ago. Also, do not presume that you and your very short story are not known to me. Though, there is only one that truly know your heart and mind, and that beautiful being is your Mistress and mine."
The voices turns sharp and spits, "The Raven Queen bids you to serve her, petulant child of man. Do you refuse or deny her will? Beware that you answer will affect everything that comes to pass going forward. Perhaps, you take a moment to consider? Maybe your doubt will be your downfall."
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen turns her head just so, in a way that thoroughly channels the side glance of a large bird. She gives the creature an evil eye of speculation... and begins laughing.
"If you serve the Queen, then perhaps you haven't been thoroughly briefed by her. I am NOTHING, if not a shell to serve as a conduit of Her awesome power. My decisions on this plane and the next will be judged by the Queen, and she frequently corrects my course when she finds my mind wandering. The excruciating caress of her feathers upon my mind is nearly enough to crush this mortal form, so I find that it is more than sufficient in alleviating any possible doubts that could possibly linger at this point."
"I belong to the Raven, and am the administrator and avatar of her Talons upon the face of the firmament. There is no doubt, Gate Keeper. I do not fool myself, however; I have been raped of my humanity.
"Should I call you Omega, or would that be too cute?" her eyes flicker with mirth as she steps forward, feathers rippling out of her every pour and growing into a thick coat across her skin. Along her arms, feathers the size of short swords rip through her flesh and emulate small wings.
"I am not but a watchful Raven. And what, exactly are you?"
She continues in Elvish - "Ha seems cin padad- closelui with gurth. Are cin a test -o mui dedication; a tainted cuil i should n- returned na its sennui near?"
She waves her hands and delicate script appears before her in the air, then turns to frost and dissipates.
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
"Bored."
Waving its free hand dismissively at the wrist, the sitting figure coughs and sputters, "Yes, yes, your display of fealty is impressive, and as for your humanity, it is the only thing you have intact. Be glad for it."
The entity's body is then wracked with a coughing fit. Wheezing accompanies the wet sounds, as the figure doubles over trying to catch its breath. In the final moments of the grotesque display, the hooded one spits to the side a dark mass of thick substance to clear the way. This time, the smell is unmistakable. Blood is now oozing down what looks like large stone cobbles at its feet.
Clearing its throat as it draws its hood back, the figure states with a sense of formality, "I am one of the Queen's Immortal Servants. My name is...honestly unimportant. So, yes, for now you may call me Omega."
"See, I can do cute," he adds, lifting his eyebrows in amused mockery.
Underneath the hood is an ashen high-elf with piercing pale eyes. His glare conveys a strong intellect far too old for the face too match.
Going on with a sense of urgency, "Now that we are acquainted, let me tell you the short version. The longer one will have to wait until I have returned. The Raven Queen has found you straying from her path and in need of direction. You have gone a bit too far in your short-sided curiosity with the physical form of the dead. You think there is power there, and there is, but you are focusing on the wrong part. True power comes from harvesting memories, and the secrets they hold, from those about to wade into the river of death. The body is nothing, but a shell, once the essence leaves. Only those who hold vanity and control in high regard believe there is anything of use in animated decay."
"Our Mistress believes you don't understand the true path she asks you to walk. So, she has tasked me with teaching you how to collect and harness the power of memories. Otherwise, you will fail her and put your destiny at risk."
Softening a bit, he adds, "Have you ever thought about the potential that lies between life and death? Existence has more layers then the material world reveals, and we can travel there to find out. It won't be easy or nice at times, but it will prove to you that your thinking was small and your goals even smaller."
Coughing more, before continuing, "However, before we begin this reeducation. This form is dying and my soul needs to be resurrected before we continue.The passage here was fraught with more danger than I anticipated. Thus, I arrived far later than you. This is why you find yourself in this revealing predicament. Something or someone has given you a good once over, like that one over there. (Pointing to a skeleton to your right.) I believe there are some clothes still around, if I remember correctly."
"This shouldn't take too long, so don't go terribly far, but then again time is an afterthought on this plane," he muses. Adding quickly, "I'm sure you'll be fine for a while."
With those words, the gate's smooth mirrored surface erupts with shadows and envelopes him. Both of the ravens at the top of the sphere call out in response with the one on the left taking flight and heading into the gate. Orange lightning crackles and arches heavily off the structure, landing in front of you.
Roll for a reflex save, pls (DEX)
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen senses danger and tenses, readying herself.
reflex save against imminent danger - 4
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
The lightning arch crashes down onto Gwyllen with such force that she is driven to her knees. Never before has she tasted, felt, or been consumed by such magic. Her mind is everywhere, frantically trying to make sense of what is happening to her, when a black wisp of shadow reaches out to feed on her, as well.
Roll 1d6
Roll 1d100
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
2
49
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
The two energies do battle within her, each gaining and losing ground in equal measure. Just as Gwyllen's mind begins to fracture, the forces retreat leaving her body shaking and mind spent.
Images reverberating in her head are of far away places and strange contraptions, but they bring her a sense of dread and foreboding. Her mind becomes fixated and overwhelmed. Leaving Gwyllen with a strong sense of that she cannot affect anything that is to come. She is too weak and small to make a difference. Everything is just too much to bear.
Two things happen:
1) Pls mark on your sheet with a new flaw: I don't believe I can make a difference to anyone or anything.
After a long rest, Gwyllen will need to make a WIS saving throw. If she fails, she keeps the flaw. During this time, if she must make a death saving throw, she does so at a disadvantage. The pattern is repeated once per day at a disadvantage, until she succeeds. Then, the flaw is removed.
2) The flashes have caused her to become proficient in arcana, history, nature, and religion. If she is already proficient, she doubles her proficiency bonus. To retain what she now knows, she must make a INT check once per day. If she fails, she reverts back to normal.
As the arch retreats, so does the gate's activity, leaving Gwyllen illuminated only by the sphere's now faint orange glow.
She is naked, on her knees, and with the insistent call from the raven on the right in her ears. Omega has disappeared into the gate.
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen holds her head, screaming and croaking like a sickly crow. Her mind is unbelievably addled, her psyche snapped like a twig, her pneuma ruthlessly ripped away from her being.
She retches and vomits blackish phlegm, weeping as she continues to emote. The air around her is frigid and tingling, static crackling and popping, the distant giggling of Fey voices mocking her mind. Her guts and heart feel twisted and bound and a despair and sense of uselessness descends upon her like an anvil.
She turns blurry eyes to the Raven and her mind cracks again. She pulls herself to all fours and begins cawing at the top of her lungs, bloody spray arcing behind her vertebrae as feathery spines writhe from within her. She drags herself towards the bird, focused on it, anchored by it.
A wellspring of useless curiosity blooms within her even though she cares not, even though she knows it is for nothing. But she can't help but think upon the strange effects of the portal's power, the will of the Queen, where she is and where she should go.
She lets herself sink into these thoughts, discarding her physical form and conscious actions into the void of Corvid instinct. She hardly notices as another, larger Raven rises from her ribs, ripping itself away from her to complete the triad in a raucous cacophony; Fiachra channels Gwyllen's anguish doubly.
Effects of Fey Touched are also plaguing her mind, laughing at her.
Her meditations on meaning and answers-
Arcana - 8
Religion - 19
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
Lying there, Gwyllen could feel the feather flocking return, sending pulses of melancholy and elation over her mutated flesh. Its continual apexes leaving her breathless. Only when her senses began to clear and pain recede did her Queen's care start to wane.
With her mind more her own and the cool stone grounding her, Gwyllen realizes the black wisps are stronger, yet less personal, versions of the flocking. The gate is a portal to the Shadow Realm, and for a moment, she was wrapped in its sorrowful embrace. The Raven on the Right calls out to her, sending a secondary, but less intense, wave of flocking up her spine in despondent approval.
By then, the apathy had taken hold in her chest causing shortness of breath and her over taxed heart to pump out of rhythm. Her emotional upheaval was then interrupted by flashes of discord and wars. No matter how how she tried, she couldn't make sense of them. Even the slightest thought in their direction caused her mind to flood, leaving her drowning in imagery and sound.
Gwyllen lay there for an unknowable amount of time, resting and gathering herself.
Roll a WIS Check.
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen tries to think wisely and compartmentalize.
Wisdom Save -13
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
While Gwyllen tries to right herself, the despair takes root. Her mind, however, is hive of possibilities and information. She can now catch glimpses of new spells, an immense mountain range, and all manner of answers to unknown questions. She is caught between both sensations, while they continually battle for her attention.
The Raven on the Right soon jumps down from the gate and drags some kind of garment over to her. Once placed, after having been repositioned a few times, the bird nudges your head and picks at your hair. It's caws go from grumbles to full on calls the longer Gwyl lays there.
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen groans and stands to her feet, taking a look at the covering the Raven set on her. She pulls it tighter around her shoulders and shivers, once again heating the ground below her with a slight movement in her hand.
Looking at the Raven, she raises her eyebrows – “Well, let’s be off then. Surely you’re as sick of being here as I am.”
Fiachra flutters up to her shoulder and their eyes both become slightly glassy as she waits for the Raven of the Gate to lead them away.
Perception boosted with an additional modifier based on both Charisma and Wisdom with Fiachra on Gwyllen’s shoulder. - 9
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
The RotR once again cocks its head back and forth, cawing its approve at Gwyl's resolve to stand. This causes an instinctive need to find a better vantage point, so it hops back to the table, where Omega had been some time before. Finding it's place on top, the raven begins to preen its feathers, focusing its entire attention on the task at hand.
Now erect and shivering, Gwyllen can see more of her surroundings.
In front of her is the portal, table, and chair-like daises, to the right is a skeleton who's previous owner must have died in a dramatic, stretched out fashion.
Looking up, she is beneath a sky of shining stars and astral phenomena, light is cresting from all directions, breaking up the gloom and illuminating the landscape. She is atop a plateau on the edge of a weathered mountain range and standing on unfamiliar ground.
After spending time marveling at the scene now bathed in orange and red hues, she looks to her left and sees a dusty pile of something on the stones. The RotR must've carried the cloth she is now wrapped in from there.
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen tears her eyes away from the alien scene, disoriented but somehow determined to move forward. She considers the skeleton by the near the daise and guesses that its owner’s demise had something to do with an experience similar to the one she had so painfully experienced a moment before.
Looking towards the pile of unknown usefulness, she shrugs and moves towards it, rubbing her palms together, then breathing her cool breath through them. A frosty mist exits her cupped hands and takes the lead, sparkling tendrils poking and propping the pile as she stands several feet back, wary of everything around her now.
Mage Hand https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Mage%20Hand#content
Glancing towards the table and skeleton, she decides she will very carefully explore those next… as the ghostly mage hands starts searching the lump, she leans down to pick up a stone and tosses it towards them to see if the portal will react.
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys
Something behind Gwyllen clears it throat, and says in a slow drawl, "Excuse me, Miss, that's not gonna work. Believe me, we've tried...on more than one occasion."
Another voice, deeper, slower, yet more thoughtful says, "Correct." Pause. "We thought you were dead." Pause. "You are not." Pause. "Thank the gods." Pause.
"Yes, yes," says the young one, and adds, "Would you like your things back?"
Standing behind her are two chaps with hats in hands and sheepish grins on their faces.
Tamlynn [Pic] | Half-Elf | Ranger, Horizon Walker - Lvl 6 | Talaveroth (sub-campaign 3)
Hadar Ilkin [Pic] | Half-Orc | Ranger, Gloom Stalker - Lvl 4 | Bane of Kerakys
Mistress of Game | Death Inspectors
Mistress of Game | Into the Werewoods
Gwyllen whips around at the sound of the first strange voice, losing her concentration on the magical hand that was digging through the pile in front of her (but still wondering if there was anything interesting to be found there).
Her ears burst into crimson flames and a veil of icey mist begins falling around her - Fiachra caws three times, ominously. "More surprises, how exciting" she sibilates in a low growl. "If you have taken my things, I would certainly like them back." She is more than a little bit put off by these continuing strange occurrences and rolls her eyes recalling the last Tortle she had seen - a bumbling oaf who tended to retreat into his shell during battles with large groups of Vampires. Her vexed Fey energies roll off her in sickening waves.
Something that everyone nearby can feel, causing them anxiety and nausea - Fey touched
Surveying the two more closely, she finds the massive pile of trinkets and equipment on the younger of the two's back to be quite odd indeed. The fires in her eyes go out as she drops her guard slightly and her energy output lessens.
"I am Gwyllen, follower of the Raven Queen and apparently now a sojourner in this unfamiliar place..."
"I've never seen such a collection carried all at once. Perhaps you have some other helpful items for a weary traveler...?" she nibbles her lip sheepishly and pokes her toe in the soil. Fiachra gives her a side eye from its perch on her shoulder; she could swear it is conveying how ridiculous she is.
Persuasion - 23
"What are your names? What can you tell me about this place?" she asks, finally.
Gwyllen Øyvund - Level 4 / Human Variant / Warlock, Fey Touched Archanist of the Raven Queen - Death Inspectors
Torment Malichar - Level 8 / Tiefling / Druid of the Underdark, Cleric of Mielikki - Knights of the Hanging Chicken (Team 3)
Master Shovel of the Sandbox - Bane of Kerakys