Wilcox lets Torke pass him by a few strides, and smiles as he more than happily lets Torke take point.
(Survival) You see so many small and medium beasts in the trees, to singularly point them out would not be able to do it justice. Nature has paused. There is a cease in the natural rhythm as they all stare, scattered about the trees and bushes, their gaze frozen upon you. Some back away, some disappear into the foliage, some continue to stare, unmoving, as you walk passed them, only to have new ones replace it ahead.
(Perception) Wilcox has no idea what he's doing. You are obviously the right choice to lead the group.
There is a cold wind that blows passed all of you. It takes Torke and Wilcox by surprise, chilling you and any metal you carry to a near icy temperature.
Prosinet hides behind Frostbite, whom it pulls over slowly and evenly. It feels welcoming to him.
Frostbite has a sense of the mountain from his dream. It feels the same as when he was going to the peak. There is surge of direction, of correctness, of being on the right path. Then its over.
It finally reaches Sam who perceives the blowing wind and braces for it. A solid invisible mass smacks into your prepared defense and is dissipated into the air around you with a squelch.
Whatever was standing on a branch jumped, those on the ground scurried away. Birds in the high trees took to the air, and everything grew silent.
The animals Torke perceived are all gone. Sam is painfully aware that whatever he just hit, sent some kind of pulse out that scared them off. He felt it blow back on him when it exploded.
Wilcox shakes off the chill as an old man withering away, standing with effort. He seemed not to notice the animals, and was crouched over in chills when Sam smacked the gust. He continues as if nothing happened.
FrostBite waves off the suggestion of bringing his art. Normal his sculptures don't have the legs to last as long as this one has already. What ever magic has been placed on it give him the impression that it would be best to stay where it is.
As the party leaves the large Dragonborn does not trail far behind Wilcox and his glowing chest. His draconic eyes dart back and forth through the darkness not able to make out a single thing that the light does not touch. Having Prosinet beside him gives him some comfort as the little gnome may be able to aid him if a fight broke out in the night.
Not sure where they were going and trusting the lead of Wilcox and Torke to get them to their destination safely he let his mind wander. As the cold wind encapsulates him the gladiator forgets for a second that he is not currently in bed sleeping as the memory of the dream washes over him.
He had joined this competition as a way to break the tedious routines of his life. Now he had traveled over water and swamp to arrive at some mad man's home. Given food and lodging only to once again travel through the pitch dark to some unknown location. For a brief moment in the cold, he knew that this is where he needed to be. Whether he was just some plaything for the Gods, moved along a playboard, or a character in some Bards tale of fate.
But then that feeling broke.
"What did you do Sam? I had felt that wind before but it stopped suddenly. Like it was broken."
Torke shivers only slightly, shaking off the feeling of the icy cold temparature as he haves a decent balance of inner cold-warm blood. His scales are unscathed, but his pale skin is now obviously showing signs of slight frostbite. The longsword is unaffected by the chill, for reasons Torke cannot fathom and does not bother to ask. As the animals depart, Torke is less dense of his posture, but that could also be from the cold affecting his torso the most.
Looking back at Mr. Wilcox, he speaks in a supressed tone, "Before we go any far, I must do a task. This will be swift." Torke kneels on some forestry, tapping into the arcane reserve the blade has, using it to talk to the blade to get a sense of what it is feeling. He says to the blade through their connected patch and thoughts, "Is it wise to continueforward? These people are incapable of carrying onward. What do you feel, blade?"Torke is still quite new to the idea of speaking with his blade, disregarding it at times necessary or dire.
He stands up and looks over his shoulder to Mr. Wilcox and speaks, "Are the winds the same as every hike you have took? These are abnormal, even by my standards of living. Each animal in this area, if hunting or searching this party, has left. Is this alright to continue at the unnatural weather? Answer my questions." Torke now seems to wind-out in a complaint of a tone, seeing that his life could be forfeit if these are circumstances that will kill him are around the corner.
Torke, the blade is silent again, like it was riding to the ship. There is sense of contemplation, that maybe what or whoever is inside the metal is thinking about something deeply, considering it with the upmost care and focus.
As you turn to ask Wilcox your questions, he lets you finish then laughs. Surely a little wind isn't anything too dangerous, he says that while he hasn't left his house in some time, its just dark and cold, nothing supernatural about.
Everyone can perceive that the night is growing colder, even without the mysterious force that blew through. The trees have kept the moonlight sparse throughout the walk, and its just outright late.
Turning a sigh into a gruff sound of minor frustration, he continues along to lead them to where Mr. Wilcox directed them to go. He is now bracing themself for more winds to pass through, uncomforted by Mr. Wilcox's words. He yearns for guidance from the blade, but scoffs whilst sheathing it in the cured-leather scabbard. He expects it to still be exhausted after attacking that ghoul.
He is a few paces ahead of Mr. Wilcox, clearing any plantation in their way with swift, yet quiet cuts from a dagger bearing no interesting marks, lest a shape of a shiv that is made from well-carved animal bone and cured-animal leathers for a short hilt be intriguing.
You continue, long and longer into an ever darkening forest, with only a carved path thinning out to a single file march.
The mysterious fog from the first night here has begun to roll in, and the rooftop tree coverage has blocked the moon.
Wilcox maintains his pace, and recasts Light without stopping before it ran out.
The fog creeps forward, 30 feet out. The wildlife has not returned.
You keep walking, and the fog move in again, 15 feet out...
...A whisper...
...You keep walking. The fog is all around you, 5 feet away. Sam, the last in the march, can only barley see Wilcox's Light and can see nothing behind him but cloud and dense woods. Torke, the first in the file, cannot see anything but the ground path laid between the trees.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Torke Aldrehas
Torke, being perhaps the most stalwart and sane-minded of the group, continues to move forward on, braving the whispers via attuning his mind to the longsword, losing most of the need to be anxious. His gaze moves toward Mr. Wilcox as he asks, "Do you have a surveying tool for us? A—Paper with information of the surroundings? I am good at keeping tracks and making well-sure that we are on the track. How farther is this river and village before we get to this peak?" Torke is now assessing these concepts in his trained mind, obviously sure of what to do. He is now readily wielding the longsword one-handed on his left.
It wouldn't take many years of training to realize that Torke is ambidextrous. Torke tries to investigate and discern where these whispers are coming from. Without many disadvantage due to his inherent ability to see in the dark.
Sam puts a reassuring hand on Prosinet's shoulder to try and steady him. He has his longsword held steady in his right hand, readying it with each gust of wind, just in case it reveals something that needs to be dealt with quickly.
Having trust in Prosinet was paying off. Each time the fog was pushed away FrostBite could see Wilcox's glow. Taking the idea from Sam the Dragonborn also pulls out his Greatax and follows the group into the unknown.
Torke realizes that the fog and night air are growing colder because there is moisture on the breeze. It is going to rain soon. (survival)
Wilcox tells you to just keep walking, you'll get there soon. His face is now a little worried, the fog bothers him. (investigation)
Prosinet, Sam, and Frostbite watch as small patches of ground are revealed each moment, showing nothing but the foliage and ground that was previously beneath. This continues for several minutes until Prosinet gets tired of twisting back and forth, letting a calm, consistent, gust flow in one direction keeping the walking path clear.
After about another hour of this, it does indeed start to rain, and Wilcox is now uncomfortable.
"Well, that's just not acceptable. I don't mind being cold, or tired, but I shall not be wet, cold, and tired. I think I remember there being a church before the end of the forest, and we should be closing in on it soon. Its shut down, has been for some time, but the roof was stable last I went..."
"...should we stop there?"
In that pause, he tells Torke that it is extremely unlikely that they will reach the river by Dawn. For a small moment of explanation, he tells Torke exactly how long its going to take...
The forest takes about half a day. You will cross paths with a Church before you reach the end. Once you see the Church, its basically only another couple of hours in good weather. Passed the forest, its about an hour of valley land till you cross a river. The river has a fishing settlement that you can cross over, they provide most of the trade goods for the town before the mountain. Then you have about another half days march to the mountain village through some relatively quiet hills. The town sits at the Mountain's base, and you could start climbing within minutes.
All in all, without any serious delays, it should only take you whatever strength you have left for today, plus maybe another day of walking to get to the mountain.
You keep walking, a light drizzle accompanying the ever slowing march that is growing colder by the second.
With the blade now at the ready to be accessible, he continues to lead the group in familiar terrain for him. He is unbothered by the fog, as natural occurences in his forest tend to rely on his raw primal senses rather than second-nature sight.
He does turn for a moment to look at Mr. Wilcox's expression, unwavered by the disadvantages in his facial expression and tense composure. He half-smirks, before returninf to face forward to change his expectations to search for an abandoned churchground.
Torke, you do not notice a change in weather, or in the walking direction. You lead on, unsure of whether or not you are actually going in the right direction. (survival)
You do sense a bit of directness with Wilcox that leads you to believe that if you just continue on, itll lead where you need to go. (Investigation)
__
Sam, the rain is pouring faster with each passing moment, if you don't get inside soon, its going to be wet socks and soggy trousers for the remainder of the trip. (Survival)
You also sense that you are going in the right direction, but only because you're pretty much just following the group at this point. (Investigation)
__
When you do finally reach a clearing, the building does not look welcoming. Rotted wood, chipped and peeling white paint, mold eating half of the back wall. This place looks more like a historical landmark than a serviceable shelter. As you approach, you notice the remnants of a graveyard to the right of the building, many of the tombstones having lost their legibility. A well that has dried up stands 10 feet before the front doors. The torches that do stand in sconces have long since been unable to be lit, having been rained on for unknown years.
The wind blows, and something stirs within the rain storm. You stand in front of the well, looking at it, the Church, and the Graveyard...
(Prosinet make a perception roll, add +5 to your bonuses.)
(Sam, Torke, Frostbite, make a separate perception roll, add only your bonuses.)
As they reach the clearing of the churchgrounds, Torke understands the eery essence this building weighs on. "Un-useful of materials. This—is the "church" you say? It is with a splendor of wasted material usage. But if this is where we the staying is a must, I will take it." Torke, with the black longsword in hand, approaches the well while looking toward landmarkings of stone? He is unfamiliar with graves.
The longsword's embedded crystal glows, providing the illusion of warmth whilst holding only a fragment of such. Torke approaches with the blade pointing to the well, outwards from his body, and two-handed. He is precise, like a predator in terrain he is acquainted in, only to be dropped in unfamiliar teritory in the midst of it. An alarming sense comes to him without warning, and his posture and muscles tense. The scales on his upper and lower half glisten in the dusk, glimmering with a slight green, and his silk-created clothing is drenched with the rain, revealing some portions of his lower-half, but is still fairly protected via some cured animal skins that are acting as leather armor and shortened leggings that reach up to half of his knee.
While at first everything seems normal at this dilapidated church on a midnight walk through a pitch black forest while its been foggy and raining, something doesn't feel right.
Imagine that
Frostbite feels this, something is wrong. He doesn't notice anything in specific, however, so he and Wilcox are the first to walk towards the Church and enter. Its just an old wooden room that smells like moldy wood and musty papers. First glance reveals that nothing of true value can be found here, except maybe some books and calligraphy supplies. Maybe somethings hidden, but its old and you are tired. Wilcox takes a seat on one of the churches benches and stretches his leg. Frostbite stands within the room looking about.
Back outside, that feeling has reached Sam, Torke, and Prosinet as well. They take a little bit long to wander into the Church, however, and Torke and Sam stay by the Well for a moment, while Prosinet follows an Aura that pulls him towards it.
Sam and Torke...
From the Well, you have a great vantage point on the entire opening the Church is in. You can see the way in, and all the surrounding forest from 360 degrees. The fog is still thick, and the rain is pouring, but the storm is starting to blow it away. A few seconds lingering on and you start to see white orbs within the trees at eye level. Then some slightly lower and some slightly higher. They glow dimly through the rain, a faint but obvious white.
A full minute more and the fog has nearly cleared. Through the wind rain and dark, you realize they are humanoids, but something is wrong. There is no sound, or smell coming from these creatures. They stare aimlessly in all directions as if they were blind, and their eyes merely cosmetic bulbs.
They don't SEEM hostile. you think as you stand there in the rain, starring at the mounting mob of mysterious figures all around you in the trees once again.
Then you look at each other.
Prosinet...
The fog is still thick, and the rain is pouring, but the storm is starting to blow it away. A few seconds go by and you can see more than just the vague outlines of buildings.
You wander away from Sam and Torke standing at the well, and are pulled towards the Graveyard.
A full minute more and the fog has nearly cleared.
You let the force guide you to a tombstone that has been cracked, the entombed's name removed. There is a shovel nearby, and a rich growth of lichen has sprung up on the former nameplate. You wave your hand over the blue-green moss and pull at it through your mystic channels. It responds by releasing some of the magical energy its been siphoning from the denizen below, and there is a surge!
You feel a heavy drop within you like you are falling a great distance in the air. Your feet are on the ground, but you feel weightless. For a moment the rain cannot touch your clothes, you look down at your arm, and the rain drops are bouncing off a small bubble above your body. The bubble expands outward as you pull, and the rain is pushed farther and farther back, until it no longer touches an area nearly five feet around you. There is no sound, no disturbance, You stand under a canopy of water as it pours over you like an invisible boulder in a river.
When you stop pulling, the rain falls back into place slowly as the magic fades. The water starts to wet you again and you hear the rain start to pour.
You recall the book having sampled a portion of the undistilled Essence. You wonder what the reduction would do. You wonder what more mystical energy absorbed into the lichen would do. You wonder what a great concentration of mystical energy absorbed by the imbiber would do.
You wonder at the scope of the power that the finished Essence would grant.
Wilcox lets Torke pass him by a few strides, and smiles as he more than happily lets Torke take point.
(Survival) You see so many small and medium beasts in the trees, to singularly point them out would not be able to do it justice. Nature has paused. There is a cease in the natural rhythm as they all stare, scattered about the trees and bushes, their gaze frozen upon you. Some back away, some disappear into the foliage, some continue to stare, unmoving, as you walk passed them, only to have new ones replace it ahead.
(Perception) Wilcox has no idea what he's doing. You are obviously the right choice to lead the group.
There is a cold wind that blows passed all of you. It takes Torke and Wilcox by surprise, chilling you and any metal you carry to a near icy temperature.
Prosinet hides behind Frostbite, whom it pulls over slowly and evenly. It feels welcoming to him.
Frostbite has a sense of the mountain from his dream. It feels the same as when he was going to the peak. There is surge of direction, of correctness, of being on the right path. Then its over.
It finally reaches Sam who perceives the blowing wind and braces for it. A solid invisible mass smacks into your prepared defense and is dissipated into the air around you with a squelch.
Whatever was standing on a branch jumped, those on the ground scurried away. Birds in the high trees took to the air, and everything grew silent.
The animals Torke perceived are all gone. Sam is painfully aware that whatever he just hit, sent some kind of pulse out that scared them off. He felt it blow back on him when it exploded.
Wilcox shakes off the chill as an old man withering away, standing with effort. He seemed not to notice the animals, and was crouched over in chills when Sam smacked the gust. He continues as if nothing happened.
"Hey..." Sam tries to get everyone's attention, but isn't exactly sure what he wants to say. "That wasn't an ordinary wind. Something isn't right."
DM - Above & Below
FrostBite | Dragonborn Barbarian | Rage 0/2 | Cold Breath (Con 12) 0/1
___________________________________________________________________________________________
FrostBite waves off the suggestion of bringing his art. Normal his sculptures don't have the legs to last as long as this one has already. What ever magic has been placed on it give him the impression that it would be best to stay where it is.
As the party leaves the large Dragonborn does not trail far behind Wilcox and his glowing chest. His draconic eyes dart back and forth through the darkness not able to make out a single thing that the light does not touch. Having Prosinet beside him gives him some comfort as the little gnome may be able to aid him if a fight broke out in the night.
Not sure where they were going and trusting the lead of Wilcox and Torke to get them to their destination safely he let his mind wander. As the cold wind encapsulates him the gladiator forgets for a second that he is not currently in bed sleeping as the memory of the dream washes over him.
He had joined this competition as a way to break the tedious routines of his life. Now he had traveled over water and swamp to arrive at some mad man's home. Given food and lodging only to once again travel through the pitch dark to some unknown location. For a brief moment in the cold, he knew that this is where he needed to be. Whether he was just some plaything for the Gods, moved along a playboard, or a character in some Bards tale of fate.
But then that feeling broke.
"What did you do Sam? I had felt that wind before but it stopped suddenly. Like it was broken."
Torke Aldrehas
Torke shivers only slightly, shaking off the feeling of the icy cold temparature as he haves a decent balance of inner cold-warm blood. His scales are unscathed, but his pale skin is now obviously showing signs of slight frostbite. The longsword is unaffected by the chill, for reasons Torke cannot fathom and does not bother to ask. As the animals depart, Torke is less dense of his posture, but that could also be from the cold affecting his torso the most.
Looking back at Mr. Wilcox, he speaks in a supressed tone, "Before we go any far, I must do a task. This will be swift." Torke kneels on some forestry, tapping into the arcane reserve the blade has, using it to talk to the blade to get a sense of what it is feeling. He says to the blade through their connected patch and thoughts, "Is it wise to continue forward? These people are incapable of carrying onward. What do you feel, blade?" Torke is still quite new to the idea of speaking with his blade, disregarding it at times necessary or dire.
He stands up and looks over his shoulder to Mr. Wilcox and speaks, "Are the winds the same as every hike you have took? These are abnormal, even by my standards of living. Each animal in this area, if hunting or searching this party, has left. Is this alright to continue at the unnatural weather? Answer my questions." Torke now seems to wind-out in a complaint of a tone, seeing that his life could be forfeit if these are circumstances that will kill him are around the corner.
Torke, the blade is silent again, like it was riding to the ship. There is sense of contemplation, that maybe what or whoever is inside the metal is thinking about something deeply, considering it with the upmost care and focus.
As you turn to ask Wilcox your questions, he lets you finish then laughs. Surely a little wind isn't anything too dangerous, he says that while he hasn't left his house in some time, its just dark and cold, nothing supernatural about.
Everyone can perceive that the night is growing colder, even without the mysterious force that blew through. The trees have kept the moonlight sparse throughout the walk, and its just outright late.
Wilcox keeps moving.
Torke Aldrehas
Turning a sigh into a gruff sound of minor frustration, he continues along to lead them to where Mr. Wilcox directed them to go. He is now bracing themself for more winds to pass through, uncomforted by Mr. Wilcox's words. He yearns for guidance from the blade, but scoffs whilst sheathing it in the cured-leather scabbard. He expects it to still be exhausted after attacking that ghoul.
He is a few paces ahead of Mr. Wilcox, clearing any plantation in their way with swift, yet quiet cuts from a dagger bearing no interesting marks, lest a shape of a shiv that is made from well-carved animal bone and cured-animal leathers for a short hilt be intriguing.
"I..I, I have been saying that this whole time!
Trumann Bloth | Loxodon Grave Cleric | War of the Green
Prosinet Fizzlepurtet | Gnome Wizard | The Wilcox Experiment
You continue, long and longer into an ever darkening forest, with only a carved path thinning out to a single file march.
The mysterious fog from the first night here has begun to roll in, and the rooftop tree coverage has blocked the moon.
Wilcox maintains his pace, and recasts Light without stopping before it ran out.
The fog creeps forward, 30 feet out. The wildlife has not returned.
You keep walking, and the fog move in again, 15 feet out...
...A whisper...
...You keep walking. The fog is all around you, 5 feet away. Sam, the last in the march, can only barley see Wilcox's Light and can see nothing behind him but cloud and dense woods. Torke, the first in the file, cannot see anything but the ground path laid between the trees.
You keep walking...
...You hear whispers in the dark.
Torke Aldrehas
Torke, being perhaps the most stalwart and sane-minded of the group, continues to move forward on, braving the whispers via attuning his mind to the longsword, losing most of the need to be anxious. His gaze moves toward Mr. Wilcox as he asks, "Do you have a surveying tool for us? A—Paper with information of the surroundings? I am good at keeping tracks and making well-sure that we are on the track. How farther is this river and village before we get to this peak?" Torke is now assessing these concepts in his trained mind, obviously sure of what to do. He is now readily wielding the longsword one-handed on his left.
It wouldn't take many years of training to realize that Torke is ambidextrous. Torke tries to investigate and discern where these whispers are coming from. Without many disadvantage due to his inherent ability to see in the dark.
survival: roll value- 20
investigation: roll value- 2
Prosinet, visibly trembling, begins to cast gust from side to side, attempting to push the fog away.
Trumann Bloth | Loxodon Grave Cleric | War of the Green
Prosinet Fizzlepurtet | Gnome Wizard | The Wilcox Experiment
Sam puts a reassuring hand on Prosinet's shoulder to try and steady him. He has his longsword held steady in his right hand, readying it with each gust of wind, just in case it reveals something that needs to be dealt with quickly.
DM - Above & Below
FrostBite | Dragonborn Barbarian | Rage 0/2 | Cold Breath (Con 12) 0/1
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Having trust in Prosinet was paying off. Each time the fog was pushed away FrostBite could see Wilcox's glow. Taking the idea from Sam the Dragonborn also pulls out his Greatax and follows the group into the unknown.
Torke realizes that the fog and night air are growing colder because there is moisture on the breeze. It is going to rain soon. (survival)
Wilcox tells you to just keep walking, you'll get there soon. His face is now a little worried, the fog bothers him. (investigation)
Prosinet, Sam, and Frostbite watch as small patches of ground are revealed each moment, showing nothing but the foliage and ground that was previously beneath. This continues for several minutes until Prosinet gets tired of twisting back and forth, letting a calm, consistent, gust flow in one direction keeping the walking path clear.
After about another hour of this, it does indeed start to rain, and Wilcox is now uncomfortable.
"Well, that's just not acceptable. I don't mind being cold, or tired, but I shall not be wet, cold, and tired. I think I remember there being a church before the end of the forest, and we should be closing in on it soon. Its shut down, has been for some time, but the roof was stable last I went..."
"...should we stop there?"
In that pause, he tells Torke that it is extremely unlikely that they will reach the river by Dawn. For a small moment of explanation, he tells Torke exactly how long its going to take...
The forest takes about half a day. You will cross paths with a Church before you reach the end. Once you see the Church, its basically only another couple of hours in good weather. Passed the forest, its about an hour of valley land till you cross a river. The river has a fishing settlement that you can cross over, they provide most of the trade goods for the town before the mountain. Then you have about another half days march to the mountain village through some relatively quiet hills. The town sits at the Mountain's base, and you could start climbing within minutes.
All in all, without any serious delays, it should only take you whatever strength you have left for today, plus maybe another day of walking to get to the mountain.
You keep walking, a light drizzle accompanying the ever slowing march that is growing colder by the second.
Torke Aldrehas
With the blade now at the ready to be accessible, he continues to lead the group in familiar terrain for him. He is unbothered by the fog, as natural occurences in his forest tend to rely on his raw primal senses rather than second-nature sight.
He does turn for a moment to look at Mr. Wilcox's expression, unwavered by the disadvantages in his facial expression and tense composure. He half-smirks, before returninf to face forward to change his expectations to search for an abandoned churchground.
survival: roll value- 8
Investigation: roll value- 15
"Eh, rain don't bother me much," Sam looks up at the dark sky. "But if you all want to take some cover, we can head to the church."
Survival: 17
Investigation: 12
DM - Above & Below
Torke, you do not notice a change in weather, or in the walking direction. You lead on, unsure of whether or not you are actually going in the right direction. (survival)
You do sense a bit of directness with Wilcox that leads you to believe that if you just continue on, itll lead where you need to go. (Investigation)
__
Sam, the rain is pouring faster with each passing moment, if you don't get inside soon, its going to be wet socks and soggy trousers for the remainder of the trip. (Survival)
You also sense that you are going in the right direction, but only because you're pretty much just following the group at this point. (Investigation)
__
When you do finally reach a clearing, the building does not look welcoming. Rotted wood, chipped and peeling white paint, mold eating half of the back wall. This place looks more like a historical landmark than a serviceable shelter. As you approach, you notice the remnants of a graveyard to the right of the building, many of the tombstones having lost their legibility. A well that has dried up stands 10 feet before the front doors. The torches that do stand in sconces have long since been unable to be lit, having been rained on for unknown years.
The wind blows, and something stirs within the rain storm. You stand in front of the well, looking at it, the Church, and the Graveyard...
(Prosinet make a perception roll, add +5 to your bonuses.)
(Sam, Torke, Frostbite, make a separate perception roll, add only your bonuses.)
Samwell Perception: 17
DM - Above & Below
Torke Aldrehas
As they reach the clearing of the churchgrounds, Torke understands the eery essence this building weighs on. "Un-useful of materials. This—is the "church" you say? It is with a splendor of wasted material usage. But if this is where we the staying is a must, I will take it." Torke, with the black longsword in hand, approaches the well while looking toward landmarkings of stone? He is unfamiliar with graves.
The longsword's embedded crystal glows, providing the illusion of warmth whilst holding only a fragment of such. Torke approaches with the blade pointing to the well, outwards from his body, and two-handed. He is precise, like a predator in terrain he is acquainted in, only to be dropped in unfamiliar teritory in the midst of it. An alarming sense comes to him without warning, and his posture and muscles tense. The scales on his upper and lower half glisten in the dusk, glimmering with a slight green, and his silk-created clothing is drenched with the rain, revealing some portions of his lower-half, but is still fairly protected via some cured animal skins that are acting as leather armor and shortened leggings that reach up to half of his knee.
Perception: roll value- 17
((Some art I drew for Torke's longsword via digital art sketches))
"Well as if this is not the most terrifying place I have ever seen."
Perception 22
Trumann Bloth | Loxodon Grave Cleric | War of the Green
Prosinet Fizzlepurtet | Gnome Wizard | The Wilcox Experiment
While at first everything seems normal at this dilapidated church on a midnight walk through a pitch black forest while its been foggy and raining, something doesn't feel right.
Imagine that
Frostbite feels this, something is wrong. He doesn't notice anything in specific, however, so he and Wilcox are the first to walk towards the Church and enter. Its just an old wooden room that smells like moldy wood and musty papers. First glance reveals that nothing of true value can be found here, except maybe some books and calligraphy supplies. Maybe somethings hidden, but its old and you are tired. Wilcox takes a seat on one of the churches benches and stretches his leg. Frostbite stands within the room looking about.
Back outside, that feeling has reached Sam, Torke, and Prosinet as well. They take a little bit long to wander into the Church, however, and Torke and Sam stay by the Well for a moment, while Prosinet follows an Aura that pulls him towards it.
Sam and Torke...
From the Well, you have a great vantage point on the entire opening the Church is in. You can see the way in, and all the surrounding forest from 360 degrees. The fog is still thick, and the rain is pouring, but the storm is starting to blow it away. A few seconds lingering on and you start to see white orbs within the trees at eye level. Then some slightly lower and some slightly higher. They glow dimly through the rain, a faint but obvious white.
A full minute more and the fog has nearly cleared. Through the wind rain and dark, you realize they are humanoids, but something is wrong. There is no sound, or smell coming from these creatures. They stare aimlessly in all directions as if they were blind, and their eyes merely cosmetic bulbs.
They don't SEEM hostile. you think as you stand there in the rain, starring at the mounting mob of mysterious figures all around you in the trees once again.
Then you look at each other.
Prosinet...
The fog is still thick, and the rain is pouring, but the storm is starting to blow it away. A few seconds go by and you can see more than just the vague outlines of buildings.
You wander away from Sam and Torke standing at the well, and are pulled towards the Graveyard.
A full minute more and the fog has nearly cleared.
You let the force guide you to a tombstone that has been cracked, the entombed's name removed. There is a shovel nearby, and a rich growth of lichen has sprung up on the former nameplate. You wave your hand over the blue-green moss and pull at it through your mystic channels. It responds by releasing some of the magical energy its been siphoning from the denizen below, and there is a surge!
You feel a heavy drop within you like you are falling a great distance in the air. Your feet are on the ground, but you feel weightless. For a moment the rain cannot touch your clothes, you look down at your arm, and the rain drops are bouncing off a small bubble above your body. The bubble expands outward as you pull, and the rain is pushed farther and farther back, until it no longer touches an area nearly five feet around you. There is no sound, no disturbance, You stand under a canopy of water as it pours over you like an invisible boulder in a river.
When you stop pulling, the rain falls back into place slowly as the magic fades. The water starts to wet you again and you hear the rain start to pour.
You recall the book having sampled a portion of the undistilled Essence. You wonder what the reduction would do. You wonder what more mystical energy absorbed into the lichen would do. You wonder what a great concentration of mystical energy absorbed by the imbiber would do.
You wonder at the scope of the power that the finished Essence would grant.
Then you look at the wet dirt, and the shovel.