Stena looks at the dagger then to the boy before nodding and saying,
"Good. Keep it and keep it close."
She gives the boy a small, genuine smile before heading to where Galingal is waiting and takes the proffered dagger. She does comment to the elf and Jimjar, and Lia since she is within earshot,
"The boy has meh dagger. Good he's armed, just in case."
She shoots Buppido a pointed look.
"Let's get to work. Sit down. Keep yer face relaxed so aye don't cut too deep."
She tests the sharpness of the dagger's tip and then looks at the marks appearing on Galingals face and mutters in dwarven,
"Just like cutting soft stone with prep etchings..."
Sleight of hand (with advantage from the lines provided by Lia?): 12
Lia sits or leans somewhere not too close (around 15-20ft away), but watches Stena’s skill with the knife, and how Galingal handles the process.
She watches the blood. She listens to any noise from Galingal, if any. The slowness, and the stillness, and quiet, of the process is opposite to her usual existence. But, even though, sitting and watching, she starts to see the rhythm of the cuts, the ooze of blood - this not rhythmic but literally the absence of rhythm - one, low, drawn out note of Blood, beneath the rhythm of Cut and Concentration…
She looks at her hands…
She imagines they are covered in blood. She sees it so real. Then her whole vision is blood…
She can sense a strange glow from behind her, light, but more, warmth. But something pushes it away.
She feels the light go out and hears bones breaking. And blood… The lake is blood… She closes her eyes…
…
When she opens her eyes the scene just looks normal. She scratches her neck and shoulder blades again.
Galingal sits still while Stena works. Lia notices that it's more than just sitting still, it's very much akin to the trance Galingal enters when he rests in the evening.
Rather than try to put each cut and the pain that comes out of this mind, Galingal focuses on the feeling and passes it all along in his trance state to the Queen.
Sweat builds on the his skin but he remains quiet as the sacrifice is made.
Even as this is done, Galingal knows that at best this will grant him a small measure of extra power. The power he will eventually need will require even more but this will have to do for now.
He does nothing to slow the steady flow of blood down his face. Regardless of how careful Stena is, the amount of blood will look enormous. The face bleeds.
Stena does worry about the blood, she's been in enough battles know this isn't a problem. The real issue is how much skin starts pulling back as she cuts.
She hisses in Dwarven,
"Moradin's anvil... not at all like stone."
She tries to keep it to the lines the best she can.
The carving is not going as well as Stena would like, Galingal's cheek has way too much give to it. She finds that if she stretches it taut with her thumb and forefinger of her non-dagger hand, it gives a bit more resistance, and makes the cutting go more quickly and easily... but when she releases his face, it snaps back kind of distorted. Adding to that, she realizes that any sort of shading or filling in would require crosshatching his face into raw meat or debriding the skin entirely, and she leaves it at a line drawing of the outlined image. Curves on a soft squishy medium are tricky, and what results is more of a straight line sketch of something that approximates a perched raven cawing.
((Galingal, give me a Constitution (Religion) check as you are enduring this.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Galingal, as Stena's borrowed blade bites in, your mind goes blank with excruciating pain, you're certain you're screaming louder and longer than you've ever screamed before, though no sound passes your lips. Your presence aboard the ship fades suddenly, and you flash to a battlefield, muddied and bloody. Your comrades surround you, an untenable position, about to be be overrun. You share a glance with each of them grimly, you've fought and died and fought again with each of them times beyond counting. Silently you all nod... one final charge into the teeth of the enemy, for the Raven Queen. Breaking for cover, you all charge, feet pounding the ground as you give voice to battlecries as arrows whistle all around you. Your foot comes down on a body that wasn't quite finished, they grab at your calf and you stagger, just long enough for an arrow to pierce your cheek, driving through your mouth, the head nicking your tongue and shattering teeth on the far side. You fall to the muck, and the fellow who tripped you lunges, grabbing the arrow, pain lancing through your face as he grapples with you before wrenching it downward to put its point against your soft palate and ramming it home.
All goes blank.
You flash to another... forgotten memory?
You're standing on the battlements of a fortress under siege, fending off attackers. You shove ladders off, cut free grapples to send the climbers tumbling, and cut down those that make it to the top. A portion is being overrun, and leaving your section in the care of your comrades, you rush to help repel the invaders, managing to clear the wall top. As you lean gasping against the battlement, a grapple hook sails up and latches you in the cheek, and you're hauled off the wall to break against the rock below.
All goes blank... flash.
A rapier thrust.
Blank ... flash.
A horse kicking you as you kill its rider.
Blank ... flash.
Acid spit in your face by some sort of reptilian creature.
Blank ... flash.
An enormous feline slashing you.
Blank ... flash.
A flashing blade.
Blank ... flash.
A club.
Blank ... flash.
A torturer's knife.
Blank ... flash.
A ... a raven... settling on your chest in a flutter of black feathers as you lie on your back, dying once again, your face an inflamed ruin. It struts up to your collarbone, where it turns its head and regards you with a single eye. You meet its eye, and think a silent plea to your goddess. It appears to be considering, before it nods its head, and leans over, a single black tear pooling in the eye before running along the beak to hang from its tip, suspended over your cheek. The droplet hangs from the tip for a moment, before the raven caws, and the drop breaks free, falling towards your cheek with exaggerated slowness to splash against your cheek.
Stena and Lia step back to regard their work... it looks rough. Some cuts are deeper than others, his pale grey skin smeared in blood that is running freely down his neck and chest. Closer to the shape of a raven that a hobo might scrawl on the side of a tavern than what one might find on a holy symbol to Galingal's goddess. Hopefully it works, and he's not too pissed when he comes back from wherever he went to in his mind.
Suddenly, his cheek ignites in black flames, burning up the lines carved into his flesh as he begins screaming a high keening pitch that suddenly cuts off as the flames go out. Neth, you're woken from your sleep on the roof by Galingal screaming down below.
Galingal's cheek is covered in dried blood and ash, but the wounds seem to have been closed, the lines Stena cut no longer distinct. He looses consciousness for a moment, before reviving with a start.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Galingal's eyes pop open, as quickly as the screams stopped, but he can still hear their echo. In his head or actually echoing through the Underdark, he can't tell.
As he gets to his feet, he looks around to find Stena and then nods at the dwarf once he does.
"It was enough," Galingal says. He searches for more to say but instead walks up to Stena and just places a hand on her shoulder and nods again.
The flood of images still linger in his mind.
"I have died so many times," Galingal whispers quietly in elvish.
He finally looks over to Lia and nods his thanks for her role, his hand finally moving to his face to touch the raven. A small jolt of energy follows his finger as he traces the scars, brushing ash to the ground.
Galingal then grabs another pole to help push the boat along.
As the ash falls away, an finely carved raven symbol adorns Galingal's cheek, the scars raised from the cuts even and sweeping, the scars black and stark against his pale skin. While still linework rather than a filled tattoo, it is clearly evoking a raven. Stena must have done a better job than she thought!
Jimjar takes the wheel, while Buppido lies on his stomach in the prow of the boat to provide directions and keep a wary eye out for submerged rocks or shifts in the current.
As you get underway, the drow child hesitantly emerges from the cabin to watch as the boat is poled and rowed (depending on current depth) onward through the dark.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As the boat gets moving and the 'crew' settle into a routine on keeping it off the rocks, Galingal goes and finds the net that Jimjar had brought on board and sees what he can do to find away to fashion it in to some sort of 'trawling' net to see if they can catch anything edible from the water.
Survival?: 6
As he does he mulls over their next steps.
"Blingdenstone or Gracklstugh," he finally says out loud. "Gracklstugh more certain but is it safe?"
He watches the net in the water for a few moments.
"Buppido, what Gracklstugh do with this group?" Galingal asks, waving his hand to encompass the party.
For now he leaves it at choosing a destination. He still doesn't have the words to discuss the demon prince back in KT Town.
The net promptly catches on something and Galingal is left with the choice of letting go, or being hauled overboard as the boat continues moving away.
Buppido looks back at Galingal's struggles at hearing his name, and Jimjar translates forward and back.
"Buppy says that the duergar are kinda bastards, but they follow the rules they make. Gracklstugh is a major trade city, the "City of Blades" for their armorers and smiths, so might have a chance to find a trader heading to the surface? They'll have a dislike for a surface dwarf, and probably distrust of Blue, but if we present ourselves as customers and traders, they should at least be willing to sell or barter for goods without too much trouble."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Galingal lets the net go but watches to see where the net ends up. If it looks like it stays near the surface, Galingal will tell the others to stop the boat so they can try and rescue it.
"Since Blingdenstone just guess where," Galingal says while pointing to the location of the net, "think should go to Gracklstugh."
The net must have pulled free on its own as it vanishes from view into the dark water.
"Gracklstugh is on the Darklake too, if we're lucky, we can make better time in the boat than we would on foot. Blingdenstone would be at least halfway on foot."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Stena gives the boy a welcoming smile as he comes up then watches Galingal toss the net overboard then just...leave it. Her grin becomes a frown and she rubs her eyes. They are going to die if she doesn't get them food.
She adds to Buppido's explanation,
"The duergar will kill us. Blingenstone is far, far safer."
The kid regards Stena for a few moments before pulling a blade from behind their back.
"Found it."
Stena is pretty sure it was lifted.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Stena looks at the dagger then to the boy before nodding and saying,
"Good. Keep it and keep it close."
She gives the boy a small, genuine smile before heading to where Galingal is waiting and takes the proffered dagger. She does comment to the elf and Jimjar, and Lia since she is within earshot,
"The boy has meh dagger. Good he's armed, just in case."
She shoots Buppido a pointed look.
"Let's get to work. Sit down. Keep yer face relaxed so aye don't cut too deep."
She tests the sharpness of the dagger's tip and then looks at the marks appearing on Galingals face and mutters in dwarven,
"Just like cutting soft stone with prep etchings..."
Sleight of hand (with advantage from the lines provided by Lia?): 12
Lia sits or leans somewhere not too close (around 15-20ft away), but watches Stena’s skill with the knife, and how Galingal handles the process.
She watches the blood. She listens to any noise from Galingal, if any. The slowness, and the stillness, and quiet, of the process is opposite to her usual existence. But, even though, sitting and watching, she starts to see the rhythm of the cuts, the ooze of blood - this not rhythmic but literally the absence of rhythm - one, low, drawn out note of Blood, beneath the rhythm of Cut and Concentration…
She looks at her hands…
She imagines they are covered in blood. She sees it so real. Then her whole vision is blood…
She can sense a strange glow from behind her, light, but more, warmth. But something pushes it away.
She feels the light go out and hears bones breaking. And blood… The lake is blood… She closes her eyes…
…
When she opens her eyes the scene just looks normal. She scratches her neck and shoulder blades again.
She watches the carving of the tattoo in silence…
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Galingal sits still while Stena works. Lia notices that it's more than just sitting still, it's very much akin to the trance Galingal enters when he rests in the evening.
Rather than try to put each cut and the pain that comes out of this mind, Galingal focuses on the feeling and passes it all along in his trance state to the Queen.
Sweat builds on the his skin but he remains quiet as the sacrifice is made.
Even as this is done, Galingal knows that at best this will grant him a small measure of extra power. The power he will eventually need will require even more but this will have to do for now.
He does nothing to slow the steady flow of blood down his face. Regardless of how careful Stena is, the amount of blood will look enormous. The face bleeds.
Stena does worry about the blood, she's been in enough battles know this isn't a problem. The real issue is how much skin starts pulling back as she cuts.
She hisses in Dwarven,
"Moradin's anvil... not at all like stone."
She tries to keep it to the lines the best she can.
The carving is not going as well as Stena would like, Galingal's cheek has way too much give to it. She finds that if she stretches it taut with her thumb and forefinger of her non-dagger hand, it gives a bit more resistance, and makes the cutting go more quickly and easily... but when she releases his face, it snaps back kind of distorted. Adding to that, she realizes that any sort of shading or filling in would require crosshatching his face into raw meat or debriding the skin entirely, and she leaves it at a line drawing of the outlined image. Curves on a soft squishy medium are tricky, and what results is more of a straight line sketch of something that approximates a perched raven cawing.
((Galingal, give me a Constitution (Religion) check as you are enduring this.))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Galingal grimaces through the ordeal and does his best to hold still while Stena works.
Con Check: 2
Galingal, as Stena's borrowed blade bites in, your mind goes blank with excruciating pain, you're certain you're screaming louder and longer than you've ever screamed before, though no sound passes your lips. Your presence aboard the ship fades suddenly, and you flash to a battlefield, muddied and bloody. Your comrades surround you, an untenable position, about to be be overrun. You share a glance with each of them grimly, you've fought and died and fought again with each of them times beyond counting. Silently you all nod... one final charge into the teeth of the enemy, for the Raven Queen. Breaking for cover, you all charge, feet pounding the ground as you give voice to battlecries as arrows whistle all around you. Your foot comes down on a body that wasn't quite finished, they grab at your calf and you stagger, just long enough for an arrow to pierce your cheek, driving through your mouth, the head nicking your tongue and shattering teeth on the far side. You fall to the muck, and the fellow who tripped you lunges, grabbing the arrow, pain lancing through your face as he grapples with you before wrenching it downward to put its point against your soft palate and ramming it home.
All goes blank.
You flash to another... forgotten memory?
You're standing on the battlements of a fortress under siege, fending off attackers. You shove ladders off, cut free grapples to send the climbers tumbling, and cut down those that make it to the top. A portion is being overrun, and leaving your section in the care of your comrades, you rush to help repel the invaders, managing to clear the wall top. As you lean gasping against the battlement, a grapple hook sails up and latches you in the cheek, and you're hauled off the wall to break against the rock below.
All goes blank... flash.
A rapier thrust.
Blank ... flash.
A horse kicking you as you kill its rider.
Blank ... flash.
Acid spit in your face by some sort of reptilian creature.
Blank ... flash.
An enormous feline slashing you.
Blank ... flash.
A flashing blade.
Blank ... flash.
A club.
Blank ... flash.
A torturer's knife.
Blank ... flash.
A ... a raven... settling on your chest in a flutter of black feathers as you lie on your back, dying once again, your face an inflamed ruin. It struts up to your collarbone, where it turns its head and regards you with a single eye. You meet its eye, and think a silent plea to your goddess. It appears to be considering, before it nods its head, and leans over, a single black tear pooling in the eye before running along the beak to hang from its tip, suspended over your cheek. The droplet hangs from the tip for a moment, before the raven caws, and the drop breaks free, falling towards your cheek with exaggerated slowness to splash against your cheek.
Stena and Lia step back to regard their work... it looks rough. Some cuts are deeper than others, his pale grey skin smeared in blood that is running freely down his neck and chest. Closer to the shape of a raven that a hobo might scrawl on the side of a tavern than what one might find on a holy symbol to Galingal's goddess. Hopefully it works, and he's not too pissed when he comes back from wherever he went to in his mind.
Suddenly, his cheek ignites in black flames, burning up the lines carved into his flesh as he begins screaming a high keening pitch that suddenly cuts off as the flames go out. Neth, you're woken from your sleep on the roof by Galingal screaming down below.
Galingal's cheek is covered in dried blood and ash, but the wounds seem to have been closed, the lines Stena cut no longer distinct. He looses consciousness for a moment, before reviving with a start.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Stena takes a step back as the flames start, eyes squinted as she winces. She quickly pulls back to their situation as the scream echos around them.
"Jimjar, we got to move now."
She'll head to a pole and gesture for Buppido and whomever else to get poling away.
Galingal's eyes pop open, as quickly as the screams stopped, but he can still hear their echo. In his head or actually echoing through the Underdark, he can't tell.
As he gets to his feet, he looks around to find Stena and then nods at the dwarf once he does.
"It was enough," Galingal says. He searches for more to say but instead walks up to Stena and just places a hand on her shoulder and nods again.
The flood of images still linger in his mind.
"I have died so many times," Galingal whispers quietly in elvish.
He finally looks over to Lia and nods his thanks for her role, his hand finally moving to his face to touch the raven. A small jolt of energy follows his finger as he traces the scars, brushing ash to the ground.
Galingal then grabs another pole to help push the boat along.
From her position poling Stena gives a deeper nod than she's given him before while she mutters in Dwarven,
"Lunatic."
As the ash falls away, an finely carved raven symbol adorns Galingal's cheek, the scars raised from the cuts even and sweeping, the scars black and stark against his pale skin. While still linework rather than a filled tattoo, it is clearly evoking a raven. Stena must have done a better job than she thought!
Jimjar takes the wheel, while Buppido lies on his stomach in the prow of the boat to provide directions and keep a wary eye out for submerged rocks or shifts in the current.
As you get underway, the drow child hesitantly emerges from the cabin to watch as the boat is poled and rowed (depending on current depth) onward through the dark.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
As the boat gets moving and the 'crew' settle into a routine on keeping it off the rocks, Galingal goes and finds the net that Jimjar had brought on board and sees what he can do to find away to fashion it in to some sort of 'trawling' net to see if they can catch anything edible from the water.
Survival?: 6
As he does he mulls over their next steps.
"Blingdenstone or Gracklstugh," he finally says out loud. "Gracklstugh more certain but is it safe?"
He watches the net in the water for a few moments.
"Buppido, what Gracklstugh do with this group?" Galingal asks, waving his hand to encompass the party.
For now he leaves it at choosing a destination. He still doesn't have the words to discuss the demon prince back in KT Town.
The net promptly catches on something and Galingal is left with the choice of letting go, or being hauled overboard as the boat continues moving away.
Buppido looks back at Galingal's struggles at hearing his name, and Jimjar translates forward and back.
"Buppy says that the duergar are kinda bastards, but they follow the rules they make. Gracklstugh is a major trade city, the "City of Blades" for their armorers and smiths, so might have a chance to find a trader heading to the surface? They'll have a dislike for a surface dwarf, and probably distrust of Blue, but if we present ourselves as customers and traders, they should at least be willing to sell or barter for goods without too much trouble."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Galingal lets the net go but watches to see where the net ends up. If it looks like it stays near the surface, Galingal will tell the others to stop the boat so they can try and rescue it.
"Since Blingdenstone just guess where," Galingal says while pointing to the location of the net, "think should go to Gracklstugh."
The net must have pulled free on its own as it vanishes from view into the dark water.
"Gracklstugh is on the Darklake too, if we're lucky, we can make better time in the boat than we would on foot. Blingdenstone would be at least halfway on foot."
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Lia suggests, “What about Blingdenstone? Had we decided against the gnome city? I feel like they might be more… welcoming?”.
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss
Stena gives the boy a welcoming smile as he comes up then watches Galingal toss the net overboard then just...leave it. Her grin becomes a frown and she rubs her eyes. They are going to die if she doesn't get them food.
She adds to Buppido's explanation,
"The duergar will kill us. Blingenstone is far, far safer."
She stops poling and looks over the edge.
"Ye dropped it, ye get it."
"Maybe Stena's friends get it," Galingal says, unable to see any trace of the net.
Then he looks back Stena and Lia.
"Maybe Blingdenstone safe," Galingal says. "But nobody knows where it is and too far."
Lia frowns and shrugs. It’s true. “Well the Drow city is out. Right?… what does that leave?”.
GILLAIN OF ATHKATLA - Human Paladin - Into the Mists PHILLIP THE GRUNG - Grung Eldritch Knight - Tomb of Annihilation
ROBWIN WINDROBE - High Elf Wizard - Dragon of Icespire Peak EVE DARKSHORE - Tiefling Warlock - Rime of the Frost Maiden
ASH OF THE FIRE - Tabaxi Rogue - Ghosts of Marshswamp LIA STARBORN - Aasimar Bard - Out of the Abyss