"There are worse things than death, but to each their own." Letting his holy symbol drop in front of his chest, Sho Zuan replies calmly, lifting his eyelids to glance at Talion and following his gaze into the darkness in distance, "I will keep that in mind. " He pauses for a second, waiting for the rest of his companions back to their feet, before deciding their next course of action.
Erven starts to wander around the periphery, at first speaking to himself in elvish, "Amal? Navatar? ... Isse nar llo?" For those who speak elvish -
Mother? Father? Where are you?...
He seems in a daze, seeing images from long ago. He holds the antler in a daggerlike stabbing position, crouching down, ready to attack. He is clearly having flash backs, the visions haunt him in the fog. He begins to take the posture of a hunter, sneaking quietly, and becoming hidden in the diminished visibility, looking for foes both seen and unseen, and in his mind real, and unreal. He is stalking the periphery of where they awoke.
Sneak (with Mask of the Wild) : 7 Perception : 16
He is so unnerved by the events, and starts calling out to long lost members of his tribe, his village, all dead. He starts frantically calling their names in elvish, and making entirely too much noise to sneak.
Talion watches the elf. Unhinged. I might have been right the first time. He walks over to the man, "Stop that! This may all be a dream, but no good will come from inviting unwanted eyes."
He looks around the area for any signs of their gear in the vicinity, and picks up the dagger, examining it. "Does this belong to anyone?" he asks.
@Talion @Ervan You try to peer through the mists but everything is heavily obscured. At times you think there are dark shadows that pass in the fog, but they disappear before you can get a good view of them. You hear periodic growls and running sounds when you begin to approach the mist.
Right now, you are in the middle of an area about 100 feet in diameter, ringed with rapidly deepening and encroaching mists. There is a copse of trees and some rocks where you are. There is a path that leads to the north - this is the only way you see that isn't obscured.
Bertolt shrug as he moves to look towards the mist as well, pausing long enough to make a mental map of the area they are in. "The only thing that is clear to me is that we should stay together."
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Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Talion glances quickly back at Bertholt, a faint smile flickering on his lips before he focuses once again on the northern path. "Aye. And I don't like the look of the mists...there are things lurking out of sight."
Erven sees Talion come over, but initially doesn't recognize him, instinctively brings up the antler to try to defend himself, but after a minute or so he starts to come around. "The campfire, we were sitting telling stories.... Where are we? What is this mist? I thought I saw...." He trails off.
He pulls himself to, embarrassed that he lost control and now recognizes everyone. He looks down at himself "My gear, my bow..." He looks at the path to the north and says to Talion and anyone nearby. "I think we should head to the north, I do not like this mist and I think we should try to get out of it. We should all stick together, no one should stay alone or be lost in this....." You can see him calming down as he is coming to his senses and starting to remember.
Erven starts to wander around the periphery, at first speaking to himself in elvish, "Amal? Navatar? ... Isse nar llo?" For those who speak elvish -
Mother? Father? Where are you?...
He seems in a daze, seeing images from long ago. He holds the antler in a daggerlike stabbing position, crouching down, ready to attack. He is clearly having flash backs, the visions haunt him in the fog. He begins to take the posture of a hunter, sneaking quietly, and becoming hidden in the diminished visibility, looking for foes both seen and unseen, and in his mind real, and unreal. He is stalking the periphery of where they awoke.
Sneak (with Mask of the Wild) : 7 Perception : 16
He is so unnerved by the events, and starts calling out to long lost members of his tribe, his village, all dead. He starts frantically calling their names in elvish, and making entirely too much noise to sneak.
@Erevan As you call out the names, your memories taking hold, you look closer into the fog. You hear moaning and shuffling coming from within. You back up a step. You look closer and see the image of an older elf female, her head a caved-in mess, her one eye hanging off some viscera and looking at you...please roll a wisdom save.
[When you all are ready, let me know if there's more you want to do here. You notice the mist is closing in on you, and all of you are starting to see different things in it...Let me know if you want to explore the mist, look inside, or leave to the north].
Erven recoils in horror seeing the elvish female, with her head crushed, haunted by her gaze.
Wisdom save : 21
He tries to hold himself together, calming from his earlier visions and motions to the others that we should head north.
The vision of your mother's newly undead form - and your own handiwork with a large rock - make you blanch and gag but you are able to collect yourself, intelligence and reason winning out over the fantastic.
In Onyx's nightmare, he is a young man at the temple again. The scene is the moment that set him on a path towards glory, the bandit leader looking down upon him in the chapel, the petitioners and clergy looking on from the waves and alcoves. Except this time, the short sword in his grip crumbles to dust as he goes to raise it. Around him, a cacophony of cruel giggles and guffaws, slowly becoming a chorus of menacing hissing - but no less cruel. The innocent and defenseless are no longer human, but countless vast serpents and his body is being pierced and his body is being crushed and his blood is turning to fire and -
Flash. Flash. Flash. Fresh new horrors and agonies are shown to him until he too awakes, drenched in sweat and in psychic agony.
What terrifies him the most upon waking is not the disappearance of an entire caravan. Nor the absence of his sword and shield. No, he is horrified by his own body - for lack of his gauntlets, his arms were exposed, muscular and wirey. . . but covered in scales the color of a moonless night. This is no longer the local savior, the gregarious bodyguard - no, he is once again the scared young man who started wrapping his arms in linen the day he realized how different he was. In that panic and regression, a forgotten sense of self-preservation wells up within him.
He sees the gap to the north and runs for it, momentarily blind to the presence of the other survivors
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Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Erven's eyes glass over, he starts to move as the mists whirl in, he finds himself bending down and picking up a large rock in his right hand, and shifting the antler to his left hand. He sees Onyx run by and begins to follow him, trying to get away from the madness, the visions. He starts running toward the path to the north as well.
Bertolt as is usual for him decides to sate his inquisitive nature, stepping forward towards the to see what is making the sounds. "Does anyone else hear the noises? This place is rather unsettling I must say..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Despite his best efforts, Talion's gaze is drawn to the mist. All the people I've killed, staring back. He shakes his head to clear it. I've watched you die once, the second time is easier!
When Onyx and then Erven run past him, heading north, he clutches the dagger in his left hand and the rock in his right, and calls to his remaining companions. "Stay together! The mist lies to us! They died long ago!"
With that he tries to shepherd his companions north, following Onyx. The old man seemed like a stable one, he thinks. Everyone has ghosts, I guess. But mine? I'd make them all over again, if needed. He stares grimly at the face of the first man he killed. For a moment a looks down at his hands. They now seem to be those of a child, covered in blood. Not a child any more! He looks up and moves on.
Seized by a strange attraction, Sho Zuan can't help but look into the tumbling mists. The dense gray fog rolls and wades, constructing a familiar elven figure, no longer regal and graceful, once the long, silky white hair curling and withering like dead grass, a face once full, sunken as an undead, a face seems sealed forever in fear. Sho Zuan reaches out, almost caressing her decaying skin. "It was wrong," he whispers, in a soft, calm tone, "I had to stop it. Your wish had come true. Serve our Lord, until I can come to you."
Hearing noises behind him, he turns, only to see Oynx rushing past him towards the clearing in the north. In the illumination he catches a glimpse of his strange scaly arms before he disappears into the dark. Stepping away from the mist, leaving the phantom of Talindra behind, with little hesitation he follows the group north.
You all head north out of the clearing. As you look behind you, the mist has overtaken and filled the clearing where you were previously. For a few moments, you all run - the mist hemming you in on all sides but not advancing further towards you - and there only seems to be one way forward. You keep hearing whining sounds, they are dog-like and most likely wolves but you can't see them - only darker shadows that quickly move out of your vision. It's quite frustrating for you - not to be able to see - but so far, they have not attacked you or shown any overt aggression (other than growling).
Eventually, you stop running and pause to catch your breath. A few of you seem a bit shaken from your visions in the mist, visions that no one else saw but you. You look around: you seem to be on an old cart path, which doesn't seem like it's seen any use for a long time. The mist doesn't come onto the path and you have about a 20-foot wide corridor free of the mist. Here and there are scattered remains of wagons, spokes sticking out of the ground, a horse tether, a saddle, bones, an assortment of debris can be seen on the path and surrounding area. [if you want, you can RP this area as you wish before the next part happens]
Having calmed down a bit, you begin to walk on, your thoughts inevitably drifting to events recent and memories past.....
Erven starts to breathe easier as they are walking along the path, the mists staying out of their path. He turns to his companions, comforted by their presence. "I don't know what happened to me back there. I know now that it wasn't real, but ... it seemed so real. My village was attacked, by some bandits and some evil force and everyone seemed to slowly ... rise after they were struck down. I was hunting and just returned home as they were starting to rise. I lost all hope for living as I had to... I had to .... bash their skulls in with a big rock." As he's walking, he drops the rock in his right hand. "I just saw... my mother back there, after I had to use the rock.... on her."
He shakes his head, looks down, and tears roll down his face for a minute. Then, his face changes, he clears his throat and says "I'm sorry. I'm sorry to burden you with that. I know you all had your own visions. Something is happening here, something is watching us and entering our head. You will never see me let my guard down again." He walks upright and resolute now, antler in hand and fully back to his senses.
Talion looks a little skeptical, but masks it quickly, and smiles at the Ervan. "Everyone has ghosts. The older you are, the more they accumulate. A long life is not always a blessing."
But for some of my ghosts, my life would have been short indeed! He glances down at his hands, remembering the blood, then sees the unfamiliar dagger. He examines it closely, feeling its weight, assessing its value.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bertolt looks to be both sickened and intrigued, his eyes scanning their surroundings carefully. He keeps his lute close at hand, finding the feeling of the familiar instrument comforting. As they pass the debris of the wagon he will pause to look through it in order to see if there is anything of use to them.
Investigation: 18
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Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
"There are worse things than death, but to each their own." Letting his holy symbol drop in front of his chest, Sho Zuan replies calmly, lifting his eyelids to glance at Talion and following his gaze into the darkness in distance, "I will keep that in mind. " He pauses for a second, waiting for the rest of his companions back to their feet, before deciding their next course of action.
Erven starts to wander around the periphery, at first speaking to himself in elvish, "Amal? Navatar? ... Isse nar llo?" For those who speak elvish -
Mother? Father? Where are you?...
He seems in a daze, seeing images from long ago. He holds the antler in a daggerlike stabbing position, crouching down, ready to attack. He is clearly having flash backs, the visions haunt him in the fog. He begins to take the posture of a hunter, sneaking quietly, and becoming hidden in the diminished visibility, looking for foes both seen and unseen, and in his mind real, and unreal. He is stalking the periphery of where they awoke.
Sneak (with Mask of the Wild) : 7 Perception : 16
He is so unnerved by the events, and starts calling out to long lost members of his tribe, his village, all dead. He starts frantically calling their names in elvish, and making entirely too much noise to sneak.
Talion watches the elf. Unhinged. I might have been right the first time. He walks over to the man, "Stop that! This may all be a dream, but no good will come from inviting unwanted eyes."
He looks around the area for any signs of their gear in the vicinity, and picks up the dagger, examining it. "Does this belong to anyone?" he asks.
@Talion @Ervan
You try to peer through the mists but everything is heavily obscured. At times you think there are dark shadows that pass in the fog, but they disappear before you can get a good view of them. You hear periodic growls and running sounds when you begin to approach the mist.
Right now, you are in the middle of an area about 100 feet in diameter, ringed with rapidly deepening and encroaching mists. There is a copse of trees and some rocks where you are. There is a path that leads to the north - this is the only way you see that isn't obscured.
Do you try to go into the mist?
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Talion peers into the distance, "The mists look clearer to the north" he says, glancing back at his companions.
He moves to the edge of the area he is now in, looking into what looks like a path to the north.
Bertolt shrug as he moves to look towards the mist as well, pausing long enough to make a mental map of the area they are in. "The only thing that is clear to me is that we should stay together."
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Talion glances quickly back at Bertholt, a faint smile flickering on his lips before he focuses once again on the northern path. "Aye. And I don't like the look of the mists...there are things lurking out of sight."
Erven sees Talion come over, but initially doesn't recognize him, instinctively brings up the antler to try to defend himself, but after a minute or so he starts to come around. "The campfire, we were sitting telling stories.... Where are we? What is this mist? I thought I saw...." He trails off.
He pulls himself to, embarrassed that he lost control and now recognizes everyone. He looks down at himself "My gear, my bow..." He looks at the path to the north and says to Talion and anyone nearby. "I think we should head to the north, I do not like this mist and I think we should try to get out of it. We should all stick together, no one should stay alone or be lost in this....." You can see him calming down as he is coming to his senses and starting to remember.
@Erevan
As you call out the names, your memories taking hold, you look closer into the fog. You hear moaning and shuffling coming from within. You back up a step. You look closer and see the image of an older elf female, her head a caved-in mess, her one eye hanging off some viscera and looking at you...please roll a wisdom save.
[When you all are ready, let me know if there's more you want to do here. You notice the mist is closing in on you, and all of you are starting to see different things in it...Let me know if you want to explore the mist, look inside, or leave to the north].
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Erven recoils in horror seeing the elvish female, with her head crushed, haunted by her gaze.
Wisdom save : 21
He tries to hold himself together, calming from his earlier visions and motions to the others that we should head north.
The vision of your mother's newly undead form - and your own handiwork with a large rock - make you blanch and gag but you are able to collect yourself, intelligence and reason winning out over the fantastic.
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
In Onyx's nightmare, he is a young man at the temple again. The scene is the moment that set him on a path towards glory, the bandit leader looking down upon him in the chapel, the petitioners and clergy looking on from the waves and alcoves. Except this time, the short sword in his grip crumbles to dust as he goes to raise it. Around him, a cacophony of cruel giggles and guffaws, slowly becoming a chorus of menacing hissing - but no less cruel. The innocent and defenseless are no longer human, but countless vast serpents and his body is being pierced and his body is being crushed and his blood is turning to fire and -
Flash. Flash. Flash. Fresh new horrors and agonies are shown to him until he too awakes, drenched in sweat and in psychic agony.
What terrifies him the most upon waking is not the disappearance of an entire caravan. Nor the absence of his sword and shield. No, he is horrified by his own body - for lack of his gauntlets, his arms were exposed, muscular and wirey. . . but covered in scales the color of a moonless night. This is no longer the local savior, the gregarious bodyguard - no, he is once again the scared young man who started wrapping his arms in linen the day he realized how different he was. In that panic and regression, a forgotten sense of self-preservation wells up within him.
He sees the gap to the north and runs for it, momentarily blind to the presence of the other survivors
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Erven's eyes glass over, he starts to move as the mists whirl in, he finds himself bending down and picking up a large rock in his right hand, and shifting the antler to his left hand. He sees Onyx run by and begins to follow him, trying to get away from the madness, the visions. He starts running toward the path to the north as well.
Bertolt as is usual for him decides to sate his inquisitive nature, stepping forward towards the to see what is making the sounds. "Does anyone else hear the noises? This place is rather unsettling I must say..."
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Despite his best efforts, Talion's gaze is drawn to the mist. All the people I've killed, staring back. He shakes his head to clear it. I've watched you die once, the second time is easier!
When Onyx and then Erven run past him, heading north, he clutches the dagger in his left hand and the rock in his right, and calls to his remaining companions. "Stay together! The mist lies to us! They died long ago!"
With that he tries to shepherd his companions north, following Onyx. The old man seemed like a stable one, he thinks. Everyone has ghosts, I guess. But mine? I'd make them all over again, if needed. He stares grimly at the face of the first man he killed. For a moment a looks down at his hands. They now seem to be those of a child, covered in blood. Not a child any more! He looks up and moves on.
Seized by a strange attraction, Sho Zuan can't help but look into the tumbling mists. The dense gray fog rolls and wades, constructing a familiar elven figure, no longer regal and graceful, once the long, silky white hair curling and withering like dead grass, a face once full, sunken as an undead, a face seems sealed forever in fear. Sho Zuan reaches out, almost caressing her decaying skin. "It was wrong," he whispers, in a soft, calm tone, "I had to stop it. Your wish had come true. Serve our Lord, until I can come to you."
Hearing noises behind him, he turns, only to see Oynx rushing past him towards the clearing in the north. In the illumination he catches a glimpse of his strange scaly arms before he disappears into the dark. Stepping away from the mist, leaving the phantom of Talindra behind, with little hesitation he follows the group north.
You all head north out of the clearing. As you look behind you, the mist has overtaken and filled the clearing where you were previously. For a few moments, you all run - the mist hemming you in on all sides but not advancing further towards you - and there only seems to be one way forward. You keep hearing whining sounds, they are dog-like and most likely wolves but you can't see them - only darker shadows that quickly move out of your vision. It's quite frustrating for you - not to be able to see - but so far, they have not attacked you or shown any overt aggression (other than growling).
Eventually, you stop running and pause to catch your breath. A few of you seem a bit shaken from your visions in the mist, visions that no one else saw but you. You look around: you seem to be on an old cart path, which doesn't seem like it's seen any use for a long time. The mist doesn't come onto the path and you have about a 20-foot wide corridor free of the mist. Here and there are scattered remains of wagons, spokes sticking out of the ground, a horse tether, a saddle, bones, an assortment of debris can be seen on the path and surrounding area. [if you want, you can RP this area as you wish before the next part happens]
Having calmed down a bit, you begin to walk on, your thoughts inevitably drifting to events recent and memories past.....
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Erven starts to breathe easier as they are walking along the path, the mists staying out of their path. He turns to his companions, comforted by their presence. "I don't know what happened to me back there. I know now that it wasn't real, but ... it seemed so real. My village was attacked, by some bandits and some evil force and everyone seemed to slowly ... rise after they were struck down. I was hunting and just returned home as they were starting to rise. I lost all hope for living as I had to... I had to .... bash their skulls in with a big rock." As he's walking, he drops the rock in his right hand. "I just saw... my mother back there, after I had to use the rock.... on her."
He shakes his head, looks down, and tears roll down his face for a minute. Then, his face changes, he clears his throat and says "I'm sorry. I'm sorry to burden you with that. I know you all had your own visions. Something is happening here, something is watching us and entering our head. You will never see me let my guard down again." He walks upright and resolute now, antler in hand and fully back to his senses.
Talion looks a little skeptical, but masks it quickly, and smiles at the Ervan. "Everyone has ghosts. The older you are, the more they accumulate. A long life is not always a blessing."
But for some of my ghosts, my life would have been short indeed! He glances down at his hands, remembering the blood, then sees the unfamiliar dagger. He examines it closely, feeling its weight, assessing its value.
"Does this belong to any of you?" he asks.
Bertolt looks to be both sickened and intrigued, his eyes scanning their surroundings carefully. He keeps his lute close at hand, finding the feeling of the familiar instrument comforting. As they pass the debris of the wagon he will pause to look through it in order to see if there is anything of use to them.
Investigation: 18
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)