The town of Greenest was founded by the halfling Dharva Scatterheart, a rogue who fancied herself the queen of the Greenfields. Scatterheart passed away without ever achieving that level of eminence, but her town grew into a thriving community. Its success isn’t surprising since Greenest is the only town of any size astride the Uldoon Trail, the most direct road between the eastern cities of the Dragon Coast, Cormyr, and Sembia with the Coast Way running south to the great cities of Amn, Tethyr, and far Calimshan. The trade caravans that pass through Greenest bring gold to the town’s merchants and craftsfolk, and Governor Nighthill runs the town at the behest of the inhabitants.
You are all on your way to Greenest, and while you don't all know your current company, you were all headed here for various reasons and decided you should head out with the next caravan. Safety in numbers after all, especially with rumors of increased raider sightings in the area. You're still a few miles out from Greenest, and sunset was hours ago, but you're determined to make it to a real bed tonight, and you're sure these last few miles will go quickly. Maybe if you talk a bit to pass the time...
(Feel free to open dialogue. Say as much or as little as you wish, but if your character isn't much of a talker at least describe their appearance and demeanor. Being in the Adventurer's League has certain benefits. Even though you are all of Novice Renown, you each start the chapter with Inspiration and a Potion of Healing. This goes away at the end of the chapter, so use it or lose it! At the beginning of every chapter, you gain a renown benefit, with more choices the higher you go. Once you hit level 5 you'll be Adept, which will grant another option, so until then, you'll start every new session with a potion and inspiration.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
(I'm claiming red, I'm really the only one who likes to color code my speech anyway) I keep pace with the caravan in silent stride, clutching my gear a little more tightly than most. I observe these people I happen to be travelling with, but remain guarded and make no effort to start a conversation. I quietly try to remember a prayer and recite it to myself. As quiet as I can, such that I'd prefer no one heard me.
Perched atop a blue dragonborn's shoulder is Potato, the kobold. He faces backwards, keeping an eye on the caravan's trail. Potato has a couple distinguishing features, the most notable being the large patch of black scales that surround his left eye. The second most notable is that he is obviously a barbarian. Currently, Potato, the kobold barbarian, is eating an onion.
Strun Kod walks next to the caravan. Standing 6'1 (considerably short for a dragonborn.) Broad shouldered and unmistakably strong. His arms and legs a little long for the rest of his build. His scales are blue with bronzed accents on his face, arms, and shoulders. He wears tan hide britches with a belt holding his handaxes and a gray steel helm. On his torso he only wears the leather brace holding Greataxe. He grabs the kobald sitting on his shoulder and flings him onto the caravan (not hard enough to hurt him). "I told you not to ride on me." His snarl bright with crackling lightning. He stalks further ahead continually looking back and forth and fidgeting with his hand axe. Tossing it up and catching it, checking the blades sharpness, pulling back to throw it then relaxing. The untrained eye might mistake his mannerisms for nerves. In reality he's anxious and impatient. Hoping to see raiders.
Delirious Longtouch lays in the back of the caravan, his face mostly covered by his Cloak. Delirious is quietly mumbling to himself, mostly incoherently. "... Reptilious vermin... Slaughter... Mouth watering... Moldy fish... I'll kill everything..."
The lumbering dragonborn scans about watching the introductions- pausing and inhaling just in the moment to greet himself, he's interrupted by the Kobold landing in the caravan with an abrupt flat thud against some fabrics; The muddied figure skips a step cackling. He pierces the onion on the end of his sword and hands it over the rail of the cart. "Watch that one- Meeaaan.." He says in a manner that probably intended to be endearing, but with no possible glint of kindness being able to be seen through the sibilant and acrid spatter of acid off his faded teeth, followed by raspily chuckling; Nice was ordered, but it just doesn't fit the bill. The middle-aged dragonborn hikes the gear further up on his shoulders- that stoop a bit, were it for better posture he'd not have settled to about 8in over 6 feet. The mud might have seen a recent rain, or is simply fleeing the bulk pressing down. With a kobold on his shoulder the two might top 400- older olivine, marred and mottled scales, and copper hewn frills hide his jawline- so saltwater stung there is white salt trim along the spines. An aging brick shithouse with green and brown shakes and a thatch roof... and equally fragrant. "Clan Vkriss..." cracked the sound of felling timber, not of someone speaking? "Tar Hordkhen..." His half smile dropping in an instant. "...the **** are we...?"
Potato pulls the onion off Vkriss' sword and chomps down into it, holding the onion in his mouth as he scrambles to the top of the wagon, sitting to again face the caravan's trail and keep lookout.
Delirious sits up in the back of the caravan, loosening his Cloak to reveal a pretty gruesome left side of his face. Then begins to lick his arm and bathes himself as a cat would. "I wonder what the humans taste like here, or if we are allowed to taste them at all."
Plåcĕ Höldęŕ (Plah-See Hald-Der-Ree) has made himself known to the Caravan sitting in the cart not walking much due to a deal he struck by providing goodberrys in exchange for him being able to meditate he offers all patrons of the caravan goodberries for almost anything but notable not for free. an Aasimar when standing does so at 5'10" white hair stone like skin catches the Kobold guiding him to the fabric that he landed on.
Now Now Kobold you can't control what others do you can only control how you interpret them, here have a goodberry it'll probably taste better than that onion.
Plåcĕ looks around for an animal to become friendly with specifically one that might like a good berry and is medium sized or small but on the larger side
Perception 21 I look around at all the people in the caravan, try to gleen any superficial, surface observations I can make about them. Regarding hygeine, personality maybe. We aren't all talking to each other so I'm not making this a public deal. 7 stealth, sleight of hand.... acrobatics whatever you wanna call it man.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Plåcĕ stands up and casts Ba Magic stones and holds his action to attack if his target moves to run away. if the target doesn't move on his subsequent turn Main action throws stone Ba throw stone
The opossum falls out of the tree after getting thoroughly thunked in the head with a magical stone. It feels right, it feels faintly that somewhere, someone, maybe even in a different world, someone has been avenged.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Whether the celestial created, designed, or just oversee the creatures on this planet regardless the only mistake is creating/allowing those creatures to exist.
throw my third stone at it attack 7 second roll either adv or disadv because prone 7 dmg 6 extra dmg on hit because unconscious is an auto crit 5
So it'll be good to rest in a bed and despite the wonderfull company you all make some fresh faces to talk to... and maybe some answers.
Small frills along Potato's jawline protrude and vibrate slightly as the tastiness of his onion is once again challenged, this time by the offer a goodberry. He stares hard at the aasimar as the aasimar murders a possum, taking a massive bite from his onion, its juices running over his scaled chin.
You all notice the quiet girl who hasn't introduced herself staring intently at each of you in turn.
Evildrive:
The barbarians, Potato the kobold and Kod the dragonborn smell unwashed. Actually, they all smell varying degrees of unwashed. You think the druid and the ranger are hermits or wanderers and don't bathe much, and the teenaged Kod is rebelling against soap, probably. Kobolds just stink naturally. The cleanest looking one, barely, is the other older dragonborn, Hordkhen, but he seems... like he's seen some shit. The ranger acts crazy, just talking to himself. Potato looks to need some kind of acceptance from a clan that neither dragonborn is giving him.
When you top a rise and see the town of Greenest just a few short miles away, instead of the pleasant, welcoming town you expected, you see columns of black smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots at this distance, and a dark, winged shape wheeling low over the keep that rises above the center of the town.
Chapter 1: Greenest... in Flames! What are you doing?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
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Chapter 1: Greenest
The town of Greenest was founded by the halfling Dharva Scatterheart, a rogue who fancied herself the queen of the Greenfields. Scatterheart passed away without ever achieving that level of eminence, but her town grew into a thriving community. Its success isn’t surprising since Greenest is the only town of any size astride the Uldoon Trail, the most direct road between the eastern cities of the Dragon Coast, Cormyr, and Sembia with the Coast Way running south to the great cities of Amn, Tethyr, and far Calimshan. The trade caravans that pass through Greenest bring gold to the town’s merchants and craftsfolk, and Governor Nighthill runs the town at the behest of the inhabitants.
You are all on your way to Greenest, and while you don't all know your current company, you were all headed here for various reasons and decided you should head out with the next caravan. Safety in numbers after all, especially with rumors of increased raider sightings in the area. You're still a few miles out from Greenest, and sunset was hours ago, but you're determined to make it to a real bed tonight, and you're sure these last few miles will go quickly. Maybe if you talk a bit to pass the time...
(Feel free to open dialogue. Say as much or as little as you wish, but if your character isn't much of a talker at least describe their appearance and demeanor. Being in the Adventurer's League has certain benefits. Even though you are all of Novice Renown, you each start the chapter with Inspiration and a Potion of Healing. This goes away at the end of the chapter, so use it or lose it! At the beginning of every chapter, you gain a renown benefit, with more choices the higher you go. Once you hit level 5 you'll be Adept, which will grant another option, so until then, you'll start every new session with a potion and inspiration.)
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
(I'm claiming red, I'm really the only one who likes to color code my speech anyway) I keep pace with the caravan in silent stride, clutching my gear a little more tightly than most. I observe these people I happen to be travelling with, but remain guarded and make no effort to start a conversation. I quietly try to remember a prayer and recite it to myself. As quiet as I can, such that I'd prefer no one heard me.
Rainbow....... Mooo....
Perched atop a blue dragonborn's shoulder is Potato, the kobold. He faces backwards, keeping an eye on the caravan's trail. Potato has a couple distinguishing features, the most notable being the large patch of black scales that surround his left eye. The second most notable is that he is obviously a barbarian. Currently, Potato, the kobold barbarian, is eating an onion.
Strun Kod walks next to the caravan. Standing 6'1 (considerably short for a dragonborn.) Broad shouldered and unmistakably strong. His arms and legs a little long for the rest of his build. His scales are blue with bronzed accents on his face, arms, and shoulders. He wears tan hide britches with a belt holding his handaxes and a gray steel helm. On his torso he only wears the leather brace holding Greataxe. He grabs the kobald sitting on his shoulder and flings him onto the caravan (not hard enough to hurt him). "I told you not to ride on me." His snarl bright with crackling lightning. He stalks further ahead continually looking back and forth and fidgeting with his hand axe. Tossing it up and catching it, checking the blades sharpness, pulling back to throw it then relaxing. The untrained eye might mistake his mannerisms for nerves. In reality he's anxious and impatient. Hoping to see raiders.
Potato has dropped his onion. The collective, yet impotent, rage of the entire kobold race howls within his heart.
Delirious Longtouch lays in the back of the caravan, his face mostly covered by his Cloak. Delirious is quietly mumbling to himself, mostly incoherently. "... Reptilious vermin... Slaughter... Mouth watering... Moldy fish... I'll kill everything..."
The lumbering dragonborn scans about watching the introductions- pausing and inhaling just in the moment to greet himself, he's interrupted by the Kobold landing in the caravan with an abrupt flat thud against some fabrics; The muddied figure skips a step cackling. He pierces the onion on the end of his sword and hands it over the rail of the cart. "Watch that one- Meeaaan.." He says in a manner that probably intended to be endearing, but with no possible glint of kindness being able to be seen through the sibilant and acrid spatter of acid off his faded teeth, followed by raspily chuckling; Nice was ordered, but it just doesn't fit the bill. The middle-aged dragonborn hikes the gear further up on his shoulders- that stoop a bit, were it for better posture he'd not have settled to about 8in over 6 feet. The mud might have seen a recent rain, or is simply fleeing the bulk pressing down. With a kobold on his shoulder the two might top 400- older olivine, marred and mottled scales, and copper hewn frills hide his jawline- so saltwater stung there is white salt trim along the spines. An aging brick shithouse with green and brown shakes and a thatch roof... and equally fragrant. "Clan Vkriss..." cracked the sound of felling timber, not of someone speaking? "Tar Hordkhen..." His half smile dropping in an instant. "...the **** are we...?"
"I told you old man, we'll be in Greenest soon." Strun looks at his little book and grins before putting it back in his pouch.
Potato pulls the onion off Vkriss' sword and chomps down into it, holding the onion in his mouth as he scrambles to the top of the wagon, sitting to again face the caravan's trail and keep lookout.
Perception 15
Delirious sits up in the back of the caravan, loosening his Cloak to reveal a pretty gruesome left side of his face. Then begins to lick his arm and bathes himself as a cat would. "I wonder what the humans taste like here, or if we are allowed to taste them at all."
Plåcĕ Höldęŕ (Plah-See Hald-Der-Ree) has made himself known to the Caravan sitting in the cart not walking much due to a deal he struck by providing goodberrys in exchange for him being able to meditate he offers all patrons of the caravan goodberries for almost anything but notable not for free. an Aasimar when standing does so at 5'10" white hair stone like skin catches the Kobold guiding him to the fabric that he landed on.
Now Now Kobold you can't control what others do you can only control how you interpret them, here have a goodberry it'll probably taste better than that onion.
Chronomancy!!!
Plåcĕ looks around for an animal to become friendly with specifically one that might like a good berry and is medium sized or small but on the larger side
Chronomancy!!!
You notice an opossum in a tree out of the corner of your eye. If you're trying anything, you'll need a roll.
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
Ross
Perception 21 I look around at all the people in the caravan, try to gleen any superficial, surface observations I can make about them. Regarding hygeine, personality maybe. We aren't all talking to each other so I'm not making this a public deal. 7 stealth, sleight of hand.... acrobatics whatever you wanna call it man.
Rainbow....... Mooo....
Plåcĕ stands up and casts Ba Magic stones and holds his action to attack if his target moves to run away. if the target doesn't move on his subsequent turn Main action throws stone Ba throw stone
attack 23 dmg 9
Ba attack 11 dmg 9
the target that ******* opossum
Chronomancy!!!
The opossum falls out of the tree after getting thoroughly thunked in the head with a magical stone. It feels right, it feels faintly that somewhere, someone, maybe even in a different world, someone has been avenged.
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...
Whether the celestial created, designed, or just oversee the creatures on this planet regardless the only mistake is creating/allowing those creatures to exist.
throw my third stone at it attack 7 second roll either adv or disadv because prone 7 dmg 6 extra dmg on hit because unconscious is an auto crit 5
So it'll be good to rest in a bed and despite the wonderfull company you all make some fresh faces to talk to... and maybe some answers.
looks at Strun Kod
Or perhaps a fresh face to punch
Chronomancy!!!
Strun Kod looks over his shoulder at the druid for half a second then turns back to front and grins but does nothing else to engage.
Small frills along Potato's jawline protrude and vibrate slightly as the tastiness of his onion is once again challenged, this time by the offer a goodberry. He stares hard at the aasimar as the aasimar murders a possum, taking a massive bite from his onion, its juices running over his scaled chin.
You all notice the quiet girl who hasn't introduced herself staring intently at each of you in turn.
Evildrive:
The barbarians, Potato the kobold and Kod the dragonborn smell unwashed. Actually, they all smell varying degrees of unwashed. You think the druid and the ranger are hermits or wanderers and don't bathe much, and the teenaged Kod is rebelling against soap, probably. Kobolds just stink naturally. The cleanest looking one, barely, is the other older dragonborn, Hordkhen, but he seems... like he's seen some shit. The ranger acts crazy, just talking to himself. Potato looks to need some kind of acceptance from a clan that neither dragonborn is giving him.
When you top a rise and see the town of Greenest just a few short miles away, instead of the pleasant, welcoming town you expected, you see columns of black smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots at this distance, and a dark, winged shape wheeling low over the keep that rises above the center of the town.
Chapter 1: Greenest... in Flames! What are you doing?
-We are all just one failed saving throw away from someone else's fantasy...