You awaken. Your head is swimming and your limbs ache. Where are you? Who...who are these people around you? What's the hour? The day? The time of year? You cannot remember anything, your mind is blank. You can move your limbs however but only slightly and you realize looking down at your hands they are shackled! Looking around you now in this wooden structure of some kind with the night sky above you. It's a full moon and bright stars blaze above as well. There are a dozen or so others figures huddled in the pen around you but the walls are solid, it looks like some sort of wooden palisade. These figures seem in the same tattered, miserable state as you.
"Hush," a female voice then says to you. "You'll wake the guards and they'll come in again," she urges softly filled with concern as you and a couple of others seem to wake around you. "They...they've been executing people for hours now," she adds her tone is morose as she stares into the middle distance then bows her head before grasping a symbol around her neck and begins to murmur.
You look at her now in profile. Her blood-spattered face wears a sad expression as her head bows. Still clutching the symbol hanging off a chain around her neck she continues to murmur something in a low tone you cannot hear. She's a faun or a satyr to some. She wears a blood-stained tunic in light blue with golden embroidery of a griffon on her chest. It's a royal looking symbol. The griffin is reared up on its hooves it’s talons holding different objects and in the low light you can make out the right talon clutches a mass of arrows while the left clutches a laurel wreath the resembles a crown. She has sandy blonde hair on her head cropped short and long doe-like ears. Her hair is matted with blood and dirt. The same color hair sparsely covers her bare arms but completely covers her legs down to her cloven feet. Her hands are shackled too but on the cuffs have ruins that glints in the darkness. They then flash making her cease her muttering and wince in pain dropping the symbol from her hand with a start before looking back at you and those awake around you! To most, they would call her a beauty if not for the gore on her face that brings the stark horror of reality to mind. She obviously, much like the others around you, look as if she has already suffered a terrible loss. Her face also shows signs of violence too. The injuries look old however and are well-healed. A deep scar splits her left eyebrow and faint burns dart across the top of her left cheek. She looks at you, her expression concern, as well as those around you! Looking away from the faun you look into the faces of those around you. These men and women as well as genderless beastfolk but no one seems familiar. A few wear the same light blue color tunic as the faun while one or two others wear a white and black harlequin looking design with a crowned toad symbol on the chest and lastly another man, he looks like a half giant, wears a lavender tunic with a blood-stained fleet-footed rabbit. As you look over these people a mix of elves and beastfolk the realization hits you again! None of these people, bleeding and beaten in the darkness around you, are familiar! The emblems on their tunics hold no meaning: a rearing griffon, a crowned toad, and a fleet-footed rabbit. Looking up at the stars they seem unfamiliar as well. Where are you? Who are these people? Why can’t you remember?
Rashar's head throbs as he lifts himself from the floor. His vision blurs, causing him to slip and hit the walls of the pen. He struggles to stand again, this time with more composure. Rubbing the back of his head, his fingers come across sticky blood. His entire body aches, and as his sight clears he looks at his body, bruised and battered all over.
Rashar examines his surroundings. He finds himself in some sort of pen, around him are all sorts of unfamiliar people, elves and beastfolk. He's particularly awestruck by the faun woman, not for her beauty but for the patchwork of injuries on her face.
"Oh god, is that going to happen to me?" he thinks.
Rashar realizes that he has no memory of how he got to this place, or even who he is. A sudden wave of panic rises over him, but Rashar closes his eyes and fights to keep calm.
"This is not the time to let your emotions get the best of you. You could die here!" he tells himself. As he cools down, his mind starts racing, synthesizing his surroundings, creating a plan of action. Rashar opens his eyes, a new resolve in his gaze. He will survive this, if he keeps his wits about him. First, he'll need to find out more about himself and... whatever this strange place is, with these unfamiliar people, stars, and symbols.
First, he scrutinizes his environment, looking mostly for a way to possibly escape but also looking for anything else that pops out at him. Perception: 21
Then, he looks at the others who are rousing awake around him. He'll need allies, friends even if he wants to get out alive. And looking at their injured condition, Rashar knows that he can't just leave them behind here to die, even if he could escape. Unless they're in here for some sort of crime, they deserve to escape just as much as he does. Rashar turns to the faun woman. She's been here longer than him, evidenced by her scars and the fact that she's the only one talking, and could explain what's going, perhaps even jogging his memory again.
"Who are they? The guards? How did I get here...please tell me what you know." He says while trying to pluck up some charm to keep quiet and avoid startling her. Persuasion: 12
Aliik clicks his beak, barely managing to keep from whistling a high, distressed note. He groans, struggling briefly with the shackles around his wrists, trying not to flail his wings in his panic. Nothing is familiar, and everything aches, and he digs a talon into his own hand to stave off the panic building in his chest. "Wh-where are we? What is this place," he manages after a couple of tries, his dry throat barely wanting to produce words. He looks at the strangers around him, hunching down and pulling his wings in protectively. "I....I'm...," he freezes, trying desperately to recall his own name, but nothing comes, no memories to recall. It terrifies him more than the shackles at his wrists and he starts shaking, head turning wildly around, as though looking for help.
Rhogar closes and opens his eyes trying to clear the fog in his head. Then hIs eyes open wide and looks around the enclosure, taking in all these strangers. Where is my sword, he thinks.
He notices a half elf talking to a faun.
”Where are we and who has done this too us?
Barely pausing for an answer he growls deep in his chest.
”Where ever here is, I do not like it.”
As he registers the fear filling the room and sees the terror in some of those around him, the words the faun said as he was coming around finally sink in. Executions.
The Aarakocra near by appears on the verge of panic at the same words.
”Take a deep breath and focus. Tell me if you see guards coming. I think it is time to get out of here.”
Rhogar takes a deep breath, flexes his shoulders and tries to break apart the shackles that hold him.
Kyrian struggles to remember something...anything, but nothing comes. his memories started around three minutes ago, and thy are already fuzzy.
He looks around and he catches sight of the Aarakocra "calm down, we need to work together if we have any hope of getting out of this place."
(DM, what is he range of movement in the shackles, can we stand up, or are we stuck sitting? also, how big are the spaces in-between the bars of the cage? and how many people look like they could put up a fight if necessary?)
He looks around cautiously,
(How many "guards" are there?)
addressing the Faun "I need a brief explanation of who you, and the rest of these people are, why we are here, and how to get out."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Opening his eyes slowly, Rinzak frowned deeply as he steadily scanned his surroundings. The incredibly lanky figure lifted his hand to stroke the now rather skewed Fu-Man-Chu mustache/beard hanging from his face with a soft groan as his head throbs, muttering to himself in Gith "
"Where....am i? I cannot remember a thing. These....do not look like me. Perhaps if I..."
Clearing his throat softly, the lanky wizard leans closer to the group which is waking up "Quiet please. Do not want death. Need allies. Need quiet, and help. Information, yes." With qute an odd accent, his smooth voice sounding a bit disjointed as he speaks in the obviously a bit unfamiliar tongue of Common. On a habit he cannot consciously recall Rinzak curls his legs under him as much as he can, closing his eyes and thinking through what little he has just heard and does know "Fingers feel light....body is weak. Feels natural, capable of magic. What kind of magic? Irrelevant currently. Faun seems friendly, need to not draw attention of captors." Doing his best to keep his volume low as he subconsciously meditated and attempted to organize his thought and prevent panic.
Mirion looks around as the situation begins to dawn on him, the despair and fear around him thick. His shackled hands reach out instinctively to the woman who spoke as a thought passes through his head 'Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair'. He just gently smiles at her “We’ll get through this.” a soft energy leaving his hand to her as he tries to restore a little hope anyway possible.
(OOC: Lay on hands, if possible, for 3 hit points)
As the others talk, he just listens taking in what they say. He begins to look around as good and bad questions begin to fill the air. His mind trying to recall what exactly got him here in the first place. His hand just running through his brown hair feeling for any bumps, or exposed wounds. First thing was to make sure he was okay and could fight if needed. His mind racing again as he began to feel his own despair creeping in 'If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can’t preserve it in the world'. He had to stay strong and remember to be a beacon of hope for others and looking around it was clear these people needed a beacon “We can make it through this, all of us.” The only words the seemed to be able to escape his lips at this time, as he kept his smile.
At the others' reassurances, Aliik manages to catch his breath, his body following old paths he must have been taught at some point. "Right," he agrees after a moment, focusing and trying to center himself, "you're right, of course." Panic later, he orders himself firmly, though his wings stay tucked in tight against him as he shifts closer to the others. "I rather think we should have more information before we try to get out," he manages, looking to the woman who had been talking to them. "Please, can you tell us what's happening here?"
Rhogar growls under his breath, a slow burn simmering, angry at himself for barely flexing the shackles. He's never found information makes a situation better. Information is for thinkers. But since he needs time to marshal his strength for another attempt he keeps his mouth shut and watches the others.
Rashar ‘s eyes widen as he watches the other half-elf’s hands glow with bright light, healing the faun woman’s injuries.
“Do I have such powers?” he asks himself. He looks at his own hands, trying to willsomething to happen. Nothing does. Well, perhaps he had other talents. Disappointed, he turns back to his companions inside the pen.
“Do you have any memories of how you got here? I don’t either. It must be some sort of magical spell they’ve cast on us. You mustn’t worry though. If we work together, we can find some way to escape.”
The Faun bombarded by the party shakes her head and shrinks back scuttling away into a darken corner of the cell.
"Be quiet," the party members hear in common as a hulking stone giant with gray skin and a grizzly looking face leans over the wooden pallisade spittle flying everywhere!
The giant the reaches in plucking a person at random it seems, a dwarf in a black and white tunic with the emblem of a crowned toad. The dwarf screams and then disappears and the party has no idea of his fate.
The prisoners around you all stare daggers at you. The goliath in the corner manages to sit up with a sneer.
"I'll make sure your next...be quiet," the lumbering half giant growls looking over to the faun with a sorrowful expression.
What you see the walls are solid no breaks the only opening seems to be from above!
Mirion calls his magic and attempts to cast but instead feels a searing pain stuns him as his wrists burn the iron shackles ruins flash white hot the same as the Faun who also experienced pain at a similar attempt.
"They've awaken yes?" A new voice emerges as a small goblin with gray ashen skin calls out from his seated on the stone giant's shoulder. "Ah yes...." the goblin grins. "You'll get your answers soon enough...patience. I've decided those six will be tested next....yes those," he gestures at the party.
All of you are then seized one by one through the roof of the pen and set down on the outside it a staggered line.
"Show these people what they want and maybe you'll survive long enough to know your past eh," the goblin replies with a sickly grin still safe above the party and tapping the stone giant that lumbers away towards what looks like a fire lit pavilion of dark black tents.
Rinzak complies completely, mentally combing through what spells he may be able to cast but making the wise decision to not resist or argue with those who are definitively at the advantage.
Rashar shuts his mouth as the dwarf is taken away.
“Oh no, is he going to die because of me? I should make an effort to stay silent in the future, and only speak in a whisper,” he thinks.
As he is snatched by the giant, the wave of panic rolls over him once more, but it’s easier to control this time. Despite his previous optimism, deep down he’s already accepted that his life is forfeit and only hopes that he could go out fighting. This may be an opportunity to do so.
Rashar surveys his new surroundings. He looks for any place where he could hide and plan an escape, but otherwise he stays quiet and makes an effort not to distinguish himself from the other prisoners.
Rhogar watches with amazement as the shackles on the half-elf blaze white and cause obvious pain. Magic. He looks down at his own shackles and decides they might take more than the strength he has to break open. But before he can think more, Rhogar is whipped off his feet, feelings of indignation run through him as he is so easily plucked up in the air by the stone giant. Indignation mixed with respect. He knows there's no way he can take on something like that giant on his own. He looks at the other 5 who were also lifted with ease out of the pen. Maybe with allies though.
He watches the goblin bob along on the shoulder of the giant.
"I do not like that goblin. He should be smacked." Rhogar says to the others. "He is not good."
Rhogar looks back at the walls of the pen and shouts loud enough to be heard by those still inside.
"We will be back for you. To rescue you." He pauses. "Even you, the goliath with the bad attitude."
He watches the goblin for a moment again. Sizing up his head and sickly grin. If only he had a sword, Rhogar thinks. He looks down at the chains of his shackles. Pulls them taut. Beggars can't be choosers he thinks.
Then he calls after the goblin.
"You, goblin. Lead on. Take us to your masters."
Rhogar looks to the other 5, nods, and then trots after the giant and goblin towards to the dark tents.
"I do not like that goblin. He should be smacked." Rhogar says to the others. "He is not good."
Rhogar looks back at the walls of the pen and shouts loud enough to be heard by those still inside.
"We will be back for you. To rescue you." He pauses. "Even you, the goliath with the bad attitude."
Rashar watches the Dragonborn shout loudly, completely contradicting his own philosophy.
”What is that man doing? He’ll get himself killed!” thinks Rashar, though he secretly admires the man’s courage, despite his recklessness. The Dragonborn would be one not to back down from a fight, despite even inevitable odds like the stone giant. He would be a good ally to have.
Rashar keeps his thoughts to himself, resolving to try to stay close to the Dragonborn when they face the challenges ahead,
Aliik hisses at the indignity of being picked up, his wings cramping at the grip the giant has on him. Once on the ground again, he straightens his feathers out as best he can, but keeps his wings pulled tight, not wanting to draw attention to them, though he suspects that is a futile endeavor. Still, better to keep them in than give anyone any reason to suspect he might try to use them to escape. "Tested," he muses, his voice just slightly too high to be anything but near hysterical, "for what, though?"
He follows after the others, grimacing at the way his body aches, wanting desperately to know what's happening to them. He does attempt to take in their surroundings as they make their way after the goblin, though, some part of his mind finding it a natural distraction from the panic clawing at him.
The goblin doesn't respond to Rhogar's calls but the goliath chuckles. There's three stone giants. One in robes, the other two in patchwork armor, seem to be guards. The robed figure then waves a decorated stick that then summons chains that suddenly link the party together in a flash of blue arcane energy. The links appear joining each of you about 3ft apart. One of the stone giants ahead with the goblin on its shoulder gives a hard yank forward moving the party ahead regardless of your willingness. The lumbering giants flank as you all move towards the tents and fire lit pavilion.
Entering the ancient pavilion the party sees it drops down into a deep hole with stepped sides that look oddly like seats. The pavilion seems to cover the ancient crumbling arena!
"Your bonds will be shed. Take up arms and best of luck to you all," the ashen faced goblin says smarmily with a smile as the stone giant fill in the three open exist the other three blocked with impossible rumble. The arena seemingly destroyed by several large boulders and other projectiles. The party has been made to advance as they reach the bottom of the arena they find a sandy floor it with several swaths of blood. The stands around the arena seem empty at first but then as if by magic several different areas fill with figures. Most are cloaked while others seem to not want to hide their appearance. There are dark elves, hobgoblins, and a horrifying group of mindflayers! All seem to be awaiting the coming spectacle.
The party finds in the sand a scattering of weapons, each of you find a weapon of your class is proficient with, but no armor. As you gather the provided weapons a crackle and flicker as flashes of light dart about the sand pit as black cloaked figures appear around you all each of you seems to have a formidable opponent!
"Begin," the goblin's voice then rings out as if amplified filling the arena as a few cheers filter towards you from your macabre audience!
The sand pit is a oval that's 40ft wide and 60ft long. You are all bunched up in the center gathering weapons and the shadowy figures are about 30ft away from the center placed in 10ft intervals. Your shackles and chains have disappeared!
“And to think I would die in an arena,” chuckles Rashar. Well, if it’s entertainment they want, that’s what he’ll give them.
Rashar moves over to the weapons and picks up a light crossbow and some bolts using his free action. Loading his crossbow, he considers taking a shot now, but from some corner of his mind a strange idea pops out. You should wait until the shadows are distracted by another foe, and shoot them for maximum effect. Rashar moves closer to the Dragonborn from before.
“Take them in close combat, I‘ll cover you from behind,” he yells.
Rashar will use his action to ready an attack with his crossbow, such that the moment a shadowy figures moves within 5ft of one of his allies, he will try to shoot it. He tries to maneuver himself in a way that a shadowy figure has to pass by an ally before getting to him.
Born Under a Bad Sign
You awaken. Your head is swimming and your limbs ache. Where are you? Who...who are these people around you? What's the hour? The day? The time of year? You cannot remember anything, your mind is blank. You can move your limbs however but only slightly and you realize looking down at your hands they are shackled! Looking around you now in this wooden structure of some kind with the night sky above you. It's a full moon and bright stars blaze above as well. There are a dozen or so others figures huddled in the pen around you but the walls are solid, it looks like some sort of wooden palisade. These figures seem in the same tattered, miserable state as you.
"Hush," a female voice then says to you. "You'll wake the guards and they'll come in again," she urges softly filled with concern as you and a couple of others seem to wake around you. "They...they've been executing people for hours now," she adds her tone is morose as she stares into the middle distance then bows her head before grasping a symbol around her neck and begins to murmur.
You look at her now in profile. Her blood-spattered face wears a sad expression as her head bows. Still clutching the symbol hanging off a chain around her neck she continues to murmur something in a low tone you cannot hear. She's a faun or a satyr to some. She wears a blood-stained tunic in light blue with golden embroidery of a griffon on her chest. It's a royal looking symbol. The griffin is reared up on its hooves it’s talons holding different objects and in the low light you can make out the right talon clutches a mass of arrows while the left clutches a laurel wreath the resembles a crown. She has sandy blonde hair on her head cropped short and long doe-like ears. Her hair is matted with blood and dirt. The same color hair sparsely covers her bare arms but completely covers her legs down to her cloven feet. Her hands are shackled too but on the cuffs have ruins that glints in the darkness. They then flash making her cease her muttering and wince in pain dropping the symbol from her hand with a start before looking back at you and those awake around you! To most, they would call her a beauty if not for the gore on her face that brings the stark horror of reality to mind. She obviously, much like the others around you, look as if she has already suffered a terrible loss. Her face also shows signs of violence too. The injuries look old however and are well-healed. A deep scar splits her left eyebrow and faint burns dart across the top of her left cheek. She looks at you, her expression concern, as well as those around you! Looking away from the faun you look into the faces of those around you. These men and women as well as genderless beastfolk but no one seems familiar. A few wear the same light blue color tunic as the faun while one or two others wear a white and black harlequin looking design with a crowned toad symbol on the chest and lastly another man, he looks like a half giant, wears a lavender tunic with a blood-stained fleet-footed rabbit. As you look over these people a mix of elves and beastfolk the realization hits you again! None of these people, bleeding and beaten in the darkness around you, are familiar! The emblems on their tunics hold no meaning: a rearing griffon, a crowned toad, and a fleet-footed rabbit. Looking up at the stars they seem unfamiliar as well. Where are you? Who are these people? Why can’t you remember?
"wh.....what am I doing here? what the hell?" he looks around "who the hell are you guys"
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Rashar's head throbs as he lifts himself from the floor. His vision blurs, causing him to slip and hit the walls of the pen. He struggles to stand again, this time with more composure. Rubbing the back of his head, his fingers come across sticky blood. His entire body aches, and as his sight clears he looks at his body, bruised and battered all over.
Rashar examines his surroundings. He finds himself in some sort of pen, around him are all sorts of unfamiliar people, elves and beastfolk. He's particularly awestruck by the faun woman, not for her beauty but for the patchwork of injuries on her face.
"Oh god, is that going to happen to me?" he thinks.
Rashar realizes that he has no memory of how he got to this place, or even who he is. A sudden wave of panic rises over him, but Rashar closes his eyes and fights to keep calm.
"This is not the time to let your emotions get the best of you. You could die here!" he tells himself. As he cools down, his mind starts racing, synthesizing his surroundings, creating a plan of action. Rashar opens his eyes, a new resolve in his gaze. He will survive this, if he keeps his wits about him. First, he'll need to find out more about himself and... whatever this strange place is, with these unfamiliar people, stars, and symbols.
First, he scrutinizes his environment, looking mostly for a way to possibly escape but also looking for anything else that pops out at him. Perception: 21
Then, he looks at the others who are rousing awake around him. He'll need allies, friends even if he wants to get out alive. And looking at their injured condition, Rashar knows that he can't just leave them behind here to die, even if he could escape. Unless they're in here for some sort of crime, they deserve to escape just as much as he does. Rashar turns to the faun woman. She's been here longer than him, evidenced by her scars and the fact that she's the only one talking, and could explain what's going, perhaps even jogging his memory again.
"Who are they? The guards? How did I get here...please tell me what you know." He says while trying to pluck up some charm to keep quiet and avoid startling her. Persuasion: 12
DMing:
Solo Hoard of the Dragon Queen
Playing:
Baral- Coliseum of Conquest, Lazarus Vernon- Tale of Mercenaries; Bernard Lionsbane- Solo Curse of Strahd
Aliik clicks his beak, barely managing to keep from whistling a high, distressed note. He groans, struggling briefly with the shackles around his wrists, trying not to flail his wings in his panic. Nothing is familiar, and everything aches, and he digs a talon into his own hand to stave off the panic building in his chest. "Wh-where are we? What is this place," he manages after a couple of tries, his dry throat barely wanting to produce words. He looks at the strangers around him, hunching down and pulling his wings in protectively. "I....I'm...," he freezes, trying desperately to recall his own name, but nothing comes, no memories to recall. It terrifies him more than the shackles at his wrists and he starts shaking, head turning wildly around, as though looking for help.
No Longer Active
Rhogar closes and opens his eyes trying to clear the fog in his head. Then hIs eyes open wide and looks around the enclosure, taking in all these strangers. Where is my sword, he thinks.
He notices a half elf talking to a faun.
”Where are we and who has done this too us?
Barely pausing for an answer he growls deep in his chest.
”Where ever here is, I do not like it.”
As he registers the fear filling the room and sees the terror in some of those around him, the words the faun said as he was coming around finally sink in. Executions.
The Aarakocra near by appears on the verge of panic at the same words.
”Take a deep breath and focus. Tell me if you see guards coming. I think it is time to get out of here.”
Rhogar takes a deep breath, flexes his shoulders and tries to break apart the shackles that hold him.
Strength Check: 7
Kyrian struggles to remember something...anything, but nothing comes. his memories started around three minutes ago, and thy are already fuzzy.
He looks around and he catches sight of the Aarakocra "calm down, we need to work together if we have any hope of getting out of this place."
(DM, what is he range of movement in the shackles, can we stand up, or are we stuck sitting? also, how big are the spaces in-between the bars of the cage? and how many people look like they could put up a fight if necessary?)
He looks around cautiously,
(How many "guards" are there?)
addressing the Faun "I need a brief explanation of who you, and the rest of these people are, why we are here, and how to get out."
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Opening his eyes slowly, Rinzak frowned deeply as he steadily scanned his surroundings. The incredibly lanky figure lifted his hand to stroke the now rather skewed Fu-Man-Chu mustache/beard hanging from his face with a soft groan as his head throbs, muttering to himself in Gith "
"Where....am i? I cannot remember a thing. These....do not look like me. Perhaps if I..."
Clearing his throat softly, the lanky wizard leans closer to the group which is waking up "Quiet please. Do not want death. Need allies. Need quiet, and help. Information, yes." With qute an odd accent, his smooth voice sounding a bit disjointed as he speaks in the obviously a bit unfamiliar tongue of Common. On a habit he cannot consciously recall Rinzak curls his legs under him as much as he can, closing his eyes and thinking through what little he has just heard and does know "Fingers feel light....body is weak. Feels natural, capable of magic. What kind of magic? Irrelevant currently. Faun seems friendly, need to not draw attention of captors." Doing his best to keep his volume low as he subconsciously meditated and attempted to organize his thought and prevent panic.
Mirion looks around as the situation begins to dawn on him, the despair and fear around him thick. His shackled hands reach out instinctively to the woman who spoke as a thought passes through his head 'Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair'. He just gently smiles at her “We’ll get through this.” a soft energy leaving his hand to her as he tries to restore a little hope anyway possible.
(OOC: Lay on hands, if possible, for 3 hit points)
As the others talk, he just listens taking in what they say. He begins to look around as good and bad questions begin to fill the air. His mind trying to recall what exactly got him here in the first place. His hand just running through his brown hair feeling for any bumps, or exposed wounds. First thing was to make sure he was okay and could fight if needed. His mind racing again as he began to feel his own despair creeping in 'If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can’t preserve it in the world'. He had to stay strong and remember to be a beacon of hope for others and looking around it was clear these people needed a beacon “We can make it through this, all of us.” The only words the seemed to be able to escape his lips at this time, as he kept his smile.
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
At the others' reassurances, Aliik manages to catch his breath, his body following old paths he must have been taught at some point. "Right," he agrees after a moment, focusing and trying to center himself, "you're right, of course." Panic later, he orders himself firmly, though his wings stay tucked in tight against him as he shifts closer to the others. "I rather think we should have more information before we try to get out," he manages, looking to the woman who had been talking to them. "Please, can you tell us what's happening here?"
No Longer Active
Rhogar growls under his breath, a slow burn simmering, angry at himself for barely flexing the shackles. He's never found information makes a situation better. Information is for thinkers. But since he needs time to marshal his strength for another attempt he keeps his mouth shut and watches the others.
Rashar ‘s eyes widen as he watches the other half-elf’s hands glow with bright light, healing the faun woman’s injuries.
“Do I have such powers?” he asks himself. He looks at his own hands, trying to will something to happen. Nothing does. Well, perhaps he had other talents. Disappointed, he turns back to his companions inside the pen.
“Do you have any memories of how you got here? I don’t either. It must be some sort of magical spell they’ve cast on us. You mustn’t worry though. If we work together, we can find some way to escape.”
DMing:
Solo Hoard of the Dragon Queen
Playing:
Baral- Coliseum of Conquest, Lazarus Vernon- Tale of Mercenaries; Bernard Lionsbane- Solo Curse of Strahd
The Faun bombarded by the party shakes her head and shrinks back scuttling away into a darken corner of the cell.
"Be quiet," the party members hear in common as a hulking stone giant with gray skin and a grizzly looking face leans over the wooden pallisade spittle flying everywhere!
The giant the reaches in plucking a person at random it seems, a dwarf in a black and white tunic with the emblem of a crowned toad. The dwarf screams and then disappears and the party has no idea of his fate.
The prisoners around you all stare daggers at you. The goliath in the corner manages to sit up with a sneer.
"I'll make sure your next...be quiet," the lumbering half giant growls looking over to the faun with a sorrowful expression.
What you see the walls are solid no breaks the only opening seems to be from above!
Mirion calls his magic and attempts to cast but instead feels a searing pain stuns him as his wrists burn the iron shackles ruins flash white hot the same as the Faun who also experienced pain at a similar attempt.
"They've awaken yes?" A new voice emerges as a small goblin with gray ashen skin calls out from his seated on the stone giant's shoulder. "Ah yes...." the goblin grins. "You'll get your answers soon enough...patience. I've decided those six will be tested next....yes those," he gestures at the party.
All of you are then seized one by one through the roof of the pen and set down on the outside it a staggered line.
"Show these people what they want and maybe you'll survive long enough to know your past eh," the goblin replies with a sickly grin still safe above the party and tapping the stone giant that lumbers away towards what looks like a fire lit pavilion of dark black tents.
Rinzak complies completely, mentally combing through what spells he may be able to cast but making the wise decision to not resist or argue with those who are definitively at the advantage.
Rashar shuts his mouth as the dwarf is taken away.
“Oh no, is he going to die because of me? I should make an effort to stay silent in the future, and only speak in a whisper,” he thinks.
As he is snatched by the giant, the wave of panic rolls over him once more, but it’s easier to control this time. Despite his previous optimism, deep down he’s already accepted that his life is forfeit and only hopes that he could go out fighting. This may be an opportunity to do so.
Rashar surveys his new surroundings. He looks for any place where he could hide and plan an escape, but otherwise he stays quiet and makes an effort not to distinguish himself from the other prisoners.
DMing:
Solo Hoard of the Dragon Queen
Playing:
Baral- Coliseum of Conquest, Lazarus Vernon- Tale of Mercenaries; Bernard Lionsbane- Solo Curse of Strahd
Rhogar watches with amazement as the shackles on the half-elf blaze white and cause obvious pain. Magic. He looks down at his own shackles and decides they might take more than the strength he has to break open. But before he can think more, Rhogar is whipped off his feet, feelings of indignation run through him as he is so easily plucked up in the air by the stone giant. Indignation mixed with respect. He knows there's no way he can take on something like that giant on his own. He looks at the other 5 who were also lifted with ease out of the pen. Maybe with allies though.
He watches the goblin bob along on the shoulder of the giant.
"I do not like that goblin. He should be smacked." Rhogar says to the others. "He is not good."
Rhogar looks back at the walls of the pen and shouts loud enough to be heard by those still inside.
"We will be back for you. To rescue you." He pauses. "Even you, the goliath with the bad attitude."
He watches the goblin for a moment again. Sizing up his head and sickly grin. If only he had a sword, Rhogar thinks. He looks down at the chains of his shackles. Pulls them taut. Beggars can't be choosers he thinks.
Then he calls after the goblin.
"You, goblin. Lead on. Take us to your masters."
Rhogar looks to the other 5, nods, and then trots after the giant and goblin towards to the dark tents.
Rashar watches the Dragonborn shout loudly, completely contradicting his own philosophy.
”What is that man doing? He’ll get himself killed!” thinks Rashar, though he secretly admires the man’s courage, despite his recklessness. The Dragonborn would be one not to back down from a fight, despite even inevitable odds like the stone giant. He would be a good ally to have.
Rashar keeps his thoughts to himself, resolving to try to stay close to the Dragonborn when they face the challenges ahead,
DMing:
Solo Hoard of the Dragon Queen
Playing:
Baral- Coliseum of Conquest, Lazarus Vernon- Tale of Mercenaries; Bernard Lionsbane- Solo Curse of Strahd
Aliik hisses at the indignity of being picked up, his wings cramping at the grip the giant has on him. Once on the ground again, he straightens his feathers out as best he can, but keeps his wings pulled tight, not wanting to draw attention to them, though he suspects that is a futile endeavor. Still, better to keep them in than give anyone any reason to suspect he might try to use them to escape. "Tested," he muses, his voice just slightly too high to be anything but near hysterical, "for what, though?"
He follows after the others, grimacing at the way his body aches, wanting desperately to know what's happening to them. He does attempt to take in their surroundings as they make their way after the goblin, though, some part of his mind finding it a natural distraction from the panic clawing at him.
No Longer Active
The goblin doesn't respond to Rhogar's calls but the goliath chuckles. There's three stone giants. One in robes, the other two in patchwork armor, seem to be guards. The robed figure then waves a decorated stick that then summons chains that suddenly link the party together in a flash of blue arcane energy. The links appear joining each of you about 3ft apart. One of the stone giants ahead with the goblin on its shoulder gives a hard yank forward moving the party ahead regardless of your willingness. The lumbering giants flank as you all move towards the tents and fire lit pavilion.
Entering the ancient pavilion the party sees it drops down into a deep hole with stepped sides that look oddly like seats. The pavilion seems to cover the ancient crumbling arena!
"Your bonds will be shed. Take up arms and best of luck to you all," the ashen faced goblin says smarmily with a smile as the stone giant fill in the three open exist the other three blocked with impossible rumble. The arena seemingly destroyed by several large boulders and other projectiles. The party has been made to advance as they reach the bottom of the arena they find a sandy floor it with several swaths of blood. The stands around the arena seem empty at first but then as if by magic several different areas fill with figures. Most are cloaked while others seem to not want to hide their appearance. There are dark elves, hobgoblins, and a horrifying group of mindflayers! All seem to be awaiting the coming spectacle.
The party finds in the sand a scattering of weapons, each of you find a weapon of your class is proficient with, but no armor. As you gather the provided weapons a crackle and flicker as flashes of light dart about the sand pit as black cloaked figures appear around you all each of you seems to have a formidable opponent!
"Begin," the goblin's voice then rings out as if amplified filling the arena as a few cheers filter towards you from your macabre audience!
Shadowy figures 5
Zegethys 10
Hambergler 16
Thoradin_Orcbender 19
RazorDawn89 5
GoodBovine 15
inkedwolves 18
Initiative order as follows:
The sand pit is a oval that's 40ft wide and 60ft long. You are all bunched up in the center gathering weapons and the shadowy figures are about 30ft away from the center placed in 10ft intervals. Your shackles and chains have disappeared!
Go!!
“And to think I would die in an arena,” chuckles Rashar. Well, if it’s entertainment they want, that’s what he’ll give them.
Rashar moves over to the weapons and picks up a light crossbow and some bolts using his free action. Loading his crossbow, he considers taking a shot now, but from some corner of his mind a strange idea pops out. You should wait until the shadows are distracted by another foe, and shoot them for maximum effect. Rashar moves closer to the Dragonborn from before.
“Take them in close combat, I‘ll cover you from behind,” he yells.
Rashar will use his action to ready an attack with his crossbow, such that the moment a shadowy figures moves within 5ft of one of his allies, he will try to shoot it. He tries to maneuver himself in a way that a shadowy figure has to pass by an ally before getting to him.
DMing:
Solo Hoard of the Dragon Queen
Playing:
Baral- Coliseum of Conquest, Lazarus Vernon- Tale of Mercenaries; Bernard Lionsbane- Solo Curse of Strahd