Mekleon eyes the departing soldiers with a less than pleased look, then turns back to Pim. “I have but one question,” He says. “What are the rules on magic? I possess little myself, and none of the offensive kind, but it would be good information to have. Also, are there any other important rules that I should know?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Your eyes focus on just the right spot, a shimmering patch of water is broken up by a cylindrical length of scales. You suspect it is some sort of small serpent, and it’s moving from the stern to the port side.
“Nothin’ to see here,” begins the sailor. “I stand corrected!”
In a flash, the head of a fanged serpent has appeared on the gunwale. The frightened sailor has its full attention…
Initiative:
Serpent 20
Sailor 9
Moneo 10
The amphisbaena has caught the sailor completely off his guard. It strikes in a blur...
...and the poor lad drops immediately and lifelessly to the deck, having been struck squarely in the neck. You stand approximately 15' from the creature.
(Using Medicine as the appropriate skill; therefore, a +1 to the roll)
After saying a few choice words and negotiating the shock of discovering the undead creature, you study its remains in hopes of understanding the strange story that lies before you. Its grotesque face confirms it is indeed a Returned, but its lack of garments—for it wears little more than a loincloth—gives you no information. The massive piercing wound under its right arm, however, seems to be the blow that ended its life.
Shaking the creature by the shoulder serves only to knock the funerary mask loose from beneath the Returned’s arms. It taps against the side of the boat and falls into the shallow water near your feet. Retrieving it from the water, you’re able to see the backside of the mask, and you sense that things have just become a bit stranger because the single word Sophelia has been scribed into the golden surface.
"No, not fighting today," answers Tark. "Tomorrow is the day."
"Like the idea of knowing a bit more about these mask wearers," remarks Bandrigos. "But me and Dag have no business sneaking about. Hooves are fine for many things, but not for being quiet."
Tark nods and says, "The gracefulness of a leonin, however..."
The conversation continues as you wrap up your meal with your strange new companions. Topics include the ease of slipping away while Pim snores the night away, the dark alleys that provide the safest route to Morenna's location, and, most importantly, the leniency that Aranath has historically shown when he learns of unauthorized exits from the compound.
"If you've returned by morning and haven't broken a leg or lost an eye, you're likely only to lose out on a day's meals. That's all," explains Dag. "Quite reasonable, I say."
The centaur gulps down his last bit of wine and adds, "I'll forfeit two days of meals for both of you if you're caught. I've been uneasy about Morenna's swords for some time, and I'll happily pay for the chance to know what she's up to."
“We’re under attack!” Moneo yells, hoping to wake as many on the ship as possible. “Gods be damned!” He thinks as he quickly backs up towards the cabins, taking a breath he pulls his pencil from his vest, pointing to the creature, and causing a small glow to appear on it’s body that begins to spread. If any sailors, hopefully, wake up and run past, he’ll yell to them, “It got Bright Eyes!” As he tries to Inspire them in their actions.
Action faerie fire, dex save 14 bonus action, bardic inspiration any sailor that comes to join movement, running the f away towards the cabin towards where help should come
Grexes nods at this. It is right that there should be payment in return for risks taken. A balanced exchange.
"Soon, then. I will follow. The high window in the gymnasium has a wide ledge on its outward face. We could use that to gain advantage in height, leap the wall of the compound, and progress from there. I need not a torch to see, now that Heliod's light has left, and you know these streets well, it seems. And perhaps the prize will be worth even the risk..."
Doubtful, but game, Grexes agrees to follow Tark on an evening jaunt, to gain an invaluable edge in the battle to come.
As you turn the cover, your eyes fall upon the text of the title page where authors of the book, the Nykleans, are credited. That is a name you know well, for it is one of the five schools of philosophy flourishing in Meletis. It seems this compendium has been compiled over the years by a group of Nyklean thinkers, and each chapter within the book is the work of a different member of that school of thought:
I. Nyxborn Legends
II. Manifestations of the Deceased
III. Manifestations of Hope
IV. Manifestations of Dread
V. Tools in the Hands of Gods
For several minutes, you scan the text and study the intricately-drawn illustrations. Resisting the desire to become wholly absorbed in any one chapter, you continue to turn the pages, hoping to find anything that might lend credence to the unusual tales you've heard about the mage's death. With Yenni's account in mind you expect to find some reference--whether in word or picture--of a serpent creature. You find no such words or picture, however.
When you are nearly ready to close the book and continue your search elsewhere, you land upon a short piece of text located within a chapter written by the philosopher Sophelia: Manifestations of Dread. It seems strange that the bulk of the page is blank and white and contains a pair of rhyming couplets. It reads as follows:
Legs and arms and eyes of three,/Completely bound and roaming free./ Hope is harmed and fear is fed;/ Born of Nyx but Nyklean bred.
As the last few words of the rhyme echo through your thoughts the ink on the page begins to spread, covering the page with a black pool that twinkles with starlight. The page then begins to shift and stretch and grow as if it were trying to take the shape of something.
You find yourself caught between two opposing ideas: slamming the book shut or watching the surreal event continue to play out...
"No magic as a general rule. Both sides must agree before anything arcane is permitted," explains Pim. "Other rules are based on honor. Sometimes they're broken, but rarely so. If an opponent kneels, spare his life. If an opponent falls, take nothing from him."
Pim points to the table where a platter of fruit and nuts sits next to a pitcher of wine. "Enjoy." He then turns and leaves the room unceremoniously.
Taking in your new surroundings, you judge that four other individuals comprise Aranath's stable of fighters.
Mekleon approaches the four, offering a small wave as they look up at him.
”Greetings. It appears that I am to be the fifth of this group. I hope to see you in more battles than I do not, in my time here, however long it may last.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Calliope commits the word to memory, then very carefully replaces the mask, trying not to touch the corpse with her hands. She shifts the cloth back into place so it looks somewhat like it did when she first found it. And then she makes a beeline back for the inn where her crew is staying, turning the events over in her mind the whole time.
Robin frowns at the shape that is forming on the page of the book. Her curiosity gets the best of her though, she must know what this is. There is no way to know if it is a secret best kept hidden, or one that is needed, unless she herself knows it. She sends up another prayer to her god as she calls on her inate talent to bend time slightly to her advantage.
Robin casts Gift of Alacrity (OOC: she normally casts this at the start of the day, but I had not declared that previously, so figured she would do so now, but it is just flavor as to when it was cast.)
Pushing back in her chair slightly, Robin puts a bit of space between herself and the book. She pushes her cloak out to the sides, leaving her hands free for spell casting, and exposing the symbol to her god, as it is emblazoned on the breastplate of her scale mail armor. She then waits, her red hair framing her pretty face, her emerald eyes intent on the book and the figure forming.
The deadly serpent takes on a vivid violet glow, making it easily seen for all who approach. Two crewman dash past you and into the melee, daggers drawn...
Both blades slice into the serpent. Wounded grievously, it continues its attack. Slithering fully aboard the little boat, the serpent reveals the extent of its lethality. Rather than a tail at its opposite end, another head, with fangs and all appears. Each crewman becomes a target...
Venomous bite vs crewman 1: 13 causing 5 piercing damage and 4 poison damage
Venomous bite vs crewman 2: 20 causing 8 piercing damage and 6 poison damage
EDIT: Advantage rolls for both crewman to see if either hits critically: 14 and 11
The first crewman steps backward at precisely the right moment, causing one of the serpent heads to miss. The second crewman, however, is far less fortunate. The serpent head at the "tail" of the beast sinks its fangs into the sailor's thigh. He drops to the deck as the venom begins to course through his veins.
Your action is next. You and the first crewman are the only ones still alive on the boat. You can tell, however, the amphisbaena is severely wounded.
The long walk to the inn seems to take hours. As you go, your mind replays the details of your grim discovery, and you search for some rational explanation. You find none, however. The name inscribed on the mask--Sophelia--has a tiny ring of familiarity to it. You can't shake the feeling that you've heard it somewhere. But where?
You open the door of the inn, hoping to leave behind the chill and fog of the sea and, more importantly, hoping to find some answers to your riddle. Suddenly your mind finds the memory you seek: Sophelia is one of the prominent philosophers of Meletis. During your youth, you heard her name mentioned a few times...
With grim fascination, you watch the ink and paper continue to grow and morph. Within seconds, you recognize that the words you have just read are beginning to take form. Three legs. Three arms. Three eyes. The arms become sinewy and long, and claws begin to take shape at their ends, claws that make their way toward you. You have little doubt of the creature's ill intent. It exudes malice, and the creature's arms are growing rapidly. Their length is greatly disproportionate when compared to the rest of its body.
You expected the first test of your mettle to be a public contest with some mindless brute. Instead, you are slipping from one midnight shadow to the next in the alleys of Akros. You are mildly impressed by the stealthy example set by Tark as he leads you toward Morenna's compound. Not bad for a human.
The L-shaped, single-story building looks like dozens of others found throughout the city, and Tark has led you to a pair of narrow horizontal windows in its southern wall. There's just enough space between the sill and shade for you to catch a glimpse of what is within. Your initial thought is that you are gazing upon statues of three masked humans--extremely accurate, detailed statues, but statues nonetheless. A whispered comment from Tark causes you to think otherwise.
"Those are Morenna's swords."
"Standing against a wall in full armor, donning masks?" you reply with mild incredulity. "Well after midnight?"
"That settles it!" Tark exclaims. "They're not human."
You shift your attention away from Tark as you turn to look through the window a second time. The sound of approaching footsteps, however, interrupts the whole affair. You gauge that you have a few seconds to take evasive action, but the alley is long. Better to hide behind one of the many objects (small carts, waste bins, barrels, etc.) than try to run...
Mekleon approaches the four, offering a small wave as they look up at him.
”Greetings. It appears that I am to be the fifth of this group. I hope to see you in more battles than I do not, in my time here, however long it may last.”
A bit of clarification: the other four members of Aranath's gladiator group are not present. Yet.
Mekleon
Given very little information and left alone to wonder what the next few days might entail, you spend some time perusing the personal effects of the other fighters (purely for legitimate information purposes, of course) before strolling around the outdoor training area. Within a few minutes, you discern that Pim has responded to a knock at the door and is talking to someone. The conversation is, at first, quiet and, therefore, indistinguishable. The tone changes quickly, and you hear Pim cry out, "Treachery!"
The distinct twang of a crossbow--a sound you know quite well--immediately follows. You know exactly how to interpret the gentle thud that then reaches your ears: someone has fallen. Rushing toward a strategic spot of the compound, you peer around a corner and see Pim's lifeless body face down on the ground...
Grexes makes a snap decision. A padded paw lightly brushes Tark's shoulder as a sign of warning, followed immediately by a gentle push backwards towards a likely hiding place, in the shadowed recess between two large barrels. Eschewing the obvious hiding place, Grexes dives towards an empty cart, sliding the last few inches on all fours to situate himself fully beneath and partially within the innerworkings of the cart's undercarriage. Between this and his natural pigmentation, he knows he will be hard to notice, though the scraping steps continues ever closer...
"We've almost got it!" Moneo yells over the cries of battle and wind and waves. Though not normally his style, he sees little choice but to get into the fray himself. Sometimes the sword is mightier than the pen it seems. He pulls out his rapier and runs at the creature, stabbing at it, the glow helping him to see it in the star light.
Attack: 26 Damage: 18 - one of the crewmen (the first?) still has Bardic Inspiration, just in case his attack would miss and the extra d6 would help
also - are the crewmates, being 'npcs' full on dead? If not, Moneo will use his last spell slot on a healing word on the one that was keeping watch at the start for 8. If dead, don't use it. I'll check to see later if I should mark the spell slot.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Robin nods her head in realization, sweeping a hand back to tuck red curls behind an ear, as she suddenly disappears, reappearing on the far side of the table, and several feet away from it. She lifts a hand then, sending a blast of fire at the shadowy thing that crawled from the book. She narrows her eyes as she watches the thing, taking note of how effective her magic was against it.
misty step to teleport out of reach of the thing, and behind it. She will appear as far as she can in that direction, but not sure if there is 30 feet to move here, as a library might not have a lot of open space to it.
Mekleon eyes the departing soldiers with a less than pleased look, then turns back to Pim. “I have but one question,” He says. “What are the rules on magic? I possess little myself, and none of the offensive kind, but it would be good information to have. Also, are there any other important rules that I should know?”
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Moneo
Perception for portside sailor: 9
Your eyes focus on just the right spot, a shimmering patch of water is broken up by a cylindrical length of scales. You suspect it is some sort of small serpent, and it’s moving from the stern to the port side.
“Nothin’ to see here,” begins the sailor. “I stand corrected!”
In a flash, the head of a fanged serpent has appeared on the gunwale. The frightened sailor has its full attention…
Initiative:
The amphisbaena has caught the sailor completely off his guard. It strikes in a blur...
Venomous bite: 23 causing 8 piercing damage and 5 poison damage
...and the poor lad drops immediately and lifelessly to the deck, having been struck squarely in the neck. You stand approximately 15' from the creature.
Calliope
(Using Medicine as the appropriate skill; therefore, a +1 to the roll)
After saying a few choice words and negotiating the shock of discovering the undead creature, you study its remains in hopes of understanding the strange story that lies before you. Its grotesque face confirms it is indeed a Returned, but its lack of garments—for it wears little more than a loincloth—gives you no information. The massive piercing wound under its right arm, however, seems to be the blow that ended its life.
Shaking the creature by the shoulder serves only to knock the funerary mask loose from beneath the Returned’s arms. It taps against the side of the boat and falls into the shallow water near your feet. Retrieving it from the water, you’re able to see the backside of the mask, and you sense that things have just become a bit stranger because the single word Sophelia has been scribed into the golden surface.
Grexes
"No, not fighting today," answers Tark. "Tomorrow is the day."
"Like the idea of knowing a bit more about these mask wearers," remarks Bandrigos. "But me and Dag have no business sneaking about. Hooves are fine for many things, but not for being quiet."
Tark nods and says, "The gracefulness of a leonin, however..."
The conversation continues as you wrap up your meal with your strange new companions. Topics include the ease of slipping away while Pim snores the night away, the dark alleys that provide the safest route to Morenna's location, and, most importantly, the leniency that Aranath has historically shown when he learns of unauthorized exits from the compound.
"If you've returned by morning and haven't broken a leg or lost an eye, you're likely only to lose out on a day's meals. That's all," explains Dag. "Quite reasonable, I say."
The centaur gulps down his last bit of wine and adds, "I'll forfeit two days of meals for both of you if you're caught. I've been uneasy about Morenna's swords for some time, and I'll happily pay for the chance to know what she's up to."
“We’re under attack!” Moneo yells, hoping to wake as many on the ship as possible. “Gods be damned!” He thinks as he quickly backs up towards the cabins, taking a breath he pulls his pencil from his vest, pointing to the creature, and causing a small glow to appear on it’s body that begins to spread. If any sailors, hopefully, wake up and run past, he’ll yell to them, “It got Bright Eyes!” As he tries to Inspire them in their actions.
Action faerie fire, dex save 14
bonus action, bardic inspiration any sailor that comes to join
movement, running the f away towards the cabin towards where help should come
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Grexes nods at this. It is right that there should be payment in return for risks taken. A balanced exchange.
"Soon, then. I will follow. The high window in the gymnasium has a wide ledge on its outward face. We could use that to gain advantage in height, leap the wall of the compound, and progress from there. I need not a torch to see, now that Heliod's light has left, and you know these streets well, it seems. And perhaps the prize will be worth even the risk..."
Doubtful, but game, Grexes agrees to follow Tark on an evening jaunt, to gain an invaluable edge in the battle to come.
Robin
As you turn the cover, your eyes fall upon the text of the title page where authors of the book, the Nykleans, are credited. That is a name you know well, for it is one of the five schools of philosophy flourishing in Meletis. It seems this compendium has been compiled over the years by a group of Nyklean thinkers, and each chapter within the book is the work of a different member of that school of thought:
For several minutes, you scan the text and study the intricately-drawn illustrations. Resisting the desire to become wholly absorbed in any one chapter, you continue to turn the pages, hoping to find anything that might lend credence to the unusual tales you've heard about the mage's death. With Yenni's account in mind you expect to find some reference--whether in word or picture--of a serpent creature. You find no such words or picture, however.
When you are nearly ready to close the book and continue your search elsewhere, you land upon a short piece of text located within a chapter written by the philosopher Sophelia: Manifestations of Dread. It seems strange that the bulk of the page is blank and white and contains a pair of rhyming couplets. It reads as follows:
Legs and arms and eyes of three,/Completely bound and roaming free./ Hope is harmed and fear is fed;/ Born of Nyx but Nyklean bred.
As the last few words of the rhyme echo through your thoughts the ink on the page begins to spread, covering the page with a black pool that twinkles with starlight. The page then begins to shift and stretch and grow as if it were trying to take the shape of something.
You find yourself caught between two opposing ideas: slamming the book shut or watching the surreal event continue to play out...
Mekleon
"No magic as a general rule. Both sides must agree before anything arcane is permitted," explains Pim. "Other rules are based on honor. Sometimes they're broken, but rarely so. If an opponent kneels, spare his life. If an opponent falls, take nothing from him."
Pim points to the table where a platter of fruit and nuts sits next to a pitcher of wine. "Enjoy." He then turns and leaves the room unceremoniously.
Taking in your new surroundings, you judge that four other individuals comprise Aranath's stable of fighters.
Mekleon approaches the four, offering a small wave as they look up at him.
”Greetings. It appears that I am to be the fifth of this group. I hope to see you in more battles than I do not, in my time here, however long it may last.”
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Calliope commits the word to memory, then very carefully replaces the mask, trying not to touch the corpse with her hands. She shifts the cloth back into place so it looks somewhat like it did when she first found it. And then she makes a beeline back for the inn where her crew is staying, turning the events over in her mind the whole time.
Iris - Tiefling Cleric | Cassandra - Elf Warlock | Solace - Tiefling Monk | Tempest - Hexblood Monk | Lex - Fire Genasi Barbarian
Lilyn - Triton Ranger | Candor - Changeling Bard | Echo - Changeling Warlock/Bard | Rowan - Fairy Wizard
Robin frowns at the shape that is forming on the page of the book. Her curiosity gets the best of her though, she must know what this is. There is no way to know if it is a secret best kept hidden, or one that is needed, unless she herself knows it. She sends up another prayer to her god as she calls on her inate talent to bend time slightly to her advantage.
Robin casts Gift of Alacrity (OOC: she normally casts this at the start of the day, but I had not declared that previously, so figured she would do so now, but it is just flavor as to when it was cast.)
Pushing back in her chair slightly, Robin puts a bit of space between herself and the book. She pushes her cloak out to the sides, leaving her hands free for spell casting, and exposing the symbol to her god, as it is emblazoned on the breastplate of her scale mail armor. She then waits, her red hair framing her pretty face, her emerald eyes intent on the book and the figure forming.
If needed, here is Robin's initiative roll: 18
Moneo
DEX save for amphisbaena: 12
The deadly serpent takes on a vivid violet glow, making it easily seen for all who approach. Two crewman dash past you and into the melee, daggers drawn...
Both blades slice into the serpent. Wounded grievously, it continues its attack. Slithering fully aboard the little boat, the serpent reveals the extent of its lethality. Rather than a tail at its opposite end, another head, with fangs and all appears. Each crewman becomes a target...
EDIT: Advantage rolls for both crewman to see if either hits critically: 14 and 11
The first crewman steps backward at precisely the right moment, causing one of the serpent heads to miss. The second crewman, however, is far less fortunate. The serpent head at the "tail" of the beast sinks its fangs into the sailor's thigh. He drops to the deck as the venom begins to course through his veins.
Your action is next. You and the first crewman are the only ones still alive on the boat. You can tell, however, the amphisbaena is severely wounded.
Calliope
The long walk to the inn seems to take hours. As you go, your mind replays the details of your grim discovery, and you search for some rational explanation. You find none, however. The name inscribed on the mask--Sophelia--has a tiny ring of familiarity to it. You can't shake the feeling that you've heard it somewhere. But where?
You open the door of the inn, hoping to leave behind the chill and fog of the sea and, more importantly, hoping to find some answers to your riddle. Suddenly your mind finds the memory you seek: Sophelia is one of the prominent philosophers of Meletis. During your youth, you heard her name mentioned a few times...
Robin
Initiative for Nyxborn nightmare: 9
With grim fascination, you watch the ink and paper continue to grow and morph. Within seconds, you recognize that the words you have just read are beginning to take form. Three legs. Three arms. Three eyes. The arms become sinewy and long, and claws begin to take shape at their ends, claws that make their way toward you. You have little doubt of the creature's ill intent. It exudes malice, and the creature's arms are growing rapidly. Their length is greatly disproportionate when compared to the rest of its body.
Initiative order is in effect. You act first.
Grexes
You expected the first test of your mettle to be a public contest with some mindless brute. Instead, you are slipping from one midnight shadow to the next in the alleys of Akros. You are mildly impressed by the stealthy example set by Tark as he leads you toward Morenna's compound. Not bad for a human.
The L-shaped, single-story building looks like dozens of others found throughout the city, and Tark has led you to a pair of narrow horizontal windows in its southern wall. There's just enough space between the sill and shade for you to catch a glimpse of what is within. Your initial thought is that you are gazing upon statues of three masked humans--extremely accurate, detailed statues, but statues nonetheless. A whispered comment from Tark causes you to think otherwise.
"Those are Morenna's swords."
"Standing against a wall in full armor, donning masks?" you reply with mild incredulity. "Well after midnight?"
"That settles it!" Tark exclaims. "They're not human."
You shift your attention away from Tark as you turn to look through the window a second time. The sound of approaching footsteps, however, interrupts the whole affair. You gauge that you have a few seconds to take evasive action, but the alley is long. Better to hide behind one of the many objects (small carts, waste bins, barrels, etc.) than try to run...
A bit of clarification: the other four members of Aranath's gladiator group are not present. Yet.
Mekleon
Given very little information and left alone to wonder what the next few days might entail, you spend some time perusing the personal effects of the other fighters (purely for legitimate information purposes, of course) before strolling around the outdoor training area. Within a few minutes, you discern that Pim has responded to a knock at the door and is talking to someone. The conversation is, at first, quiet and, therefore, indistinguishable. The tone changes quickly, and you hear Pim cry out, "Treachery!"
The distinct twang of a crossbow--a sound you know quite well--immediately follows. You know exactly how to interpret the gentle thud that then reaches your ears: someone has fallen. Rushing toward a strategic spot of the compound, you peer around a corner and see Pim's lifeless body face down on the ground...
Grexes makes a snap decision. A padded paw lightly brushes Tark's shoulder as a sign of warning, followed immediately by a gentle push backwards towards a likely hiding place, in the shadowed recess between two large barrels. Eschewing the obvious hiding place, Grexes dives towards an empty cart, sliding the last few inches on all fours to situate himself fully beneath and partially within the innerworkings of the cart's undercarriage. Between this and his natural pigmentation, he knows he will be hard to notice, though the scraping steps continues ever closer...
"We've almost got it!" Moneo yells over the cries of battle and wind and waves. Though not normally his style, he sees little choice but to get into the fray himself. Sometimes the sword is mightier than the pen it seems. He pulls out his rapier and runs at the creature, stabbing at it, the glow helping him to see it in the star light.
Attack: 26 Damage: 18
- one of the crewmen (the first?) still has Bardic Inspiration, just in case his attack would miss and the extra d6 would help
also - are the crewmates, being 'npcs' full on dead? If not, Moneo will use his last spell slot on a healing word on the one that was keeping watch at the start for 8. If dead, don't use it. I'll check to see later if I should mark the spell slot.
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Mekleon’s eyes widen as he looks about the room, for any evidence of an escaping attacker or the escape route they may have taken.
Perception/Investigation: 16
“Murder!” he roars, “There has been a murder!”
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Robin nods her head in realization, sweeping a hand back to tuck red curls behind an ear, as she suddenly disappears, reappearing on the far side of the table, and several feet away from it. She lifts a hand then, sending a blast of fire at the shadowy thing that crawled from the book. She narrows her eyes as she watches the thing, taking note of how effective her magic was against it.
misty step to teleport out of reach of the thing, and behind it. She will appear as far as she can in that direction, but not sure if there is 30 feet to move here, as a library might not have a lot of open space to it.
fire bolt
Attack: 14 Damage: 6