Boyd - The figure plays you little heed as it walks past, consumed by the task at hand, and unswayed by the gruesome aftermath that lingers in the air. The acrid stench of the charred serpentfolk flesh, though potent, pales in comparison to the foul odour that emanates from the creature's filth. Though your dagger glints in the light of the fire, the figure's expression remains blank.
Faila - You take refuge behind Meresaa, watching cautiously as the figure passes unspeaking through the chamber. A twinge of compassion pierces your heart, for in that fleeting moment, you recognise the unmistakable visage of a downtrodden soul, weathered by the harshest of existence; had you chanced upon this pitiable being in the bustling streets of a city, you would have easily mistaken it for a destitute beggar or a weary vagrant.
Lord of Autumn - Your hands dig through the jumble of refuse and castoffs, feeling for something, anything of value amidst the detritus. The serpentfolk's hoard yields little of interest at first, a collection of useless trinkets and items that hold no value to you. But then, as your fingers probe deeper, you find something that catches your eye - a small, polished stone, barely larger than a coin. Despite its diminutive size, you can tell that it's been carefully crafted, its surface as smooth as glass and the diamond symbol etched into its surface is as black as the deepest shadows. It's a curious item, and you can't help but wonder what its purpose might be.
Nikita - Your mind races, weaving a tapestry of dark possibilities as you contemplate the enigma of the pitiful creature before you. Could this wretched being have been a pawn in a more insidious game? The fetid odour that emanates from its wretched form hints at a lingering pestilence, a putrescent taint that clings to its very essence. And those lifeless eyes, devoid of any spark, speak volumes of the torment it has endured. Could such a creature be manipulated, twisted into undertaking whatever dark tasks are asked of it? A tool crafted to deceive and sow destruction, lurking within the guise of feebleness until the opportune moment to unleash chaos.
With a sense of unease settling in, you ponder the motivations behind such a twisted scheme. Was it an act of vengeance, a way to strike at the heart of enemies through unsuspecting means? Or perhaps a display of calculated cruelty, revelling in the suffering inflicted by a creature seemingly beneath notice? The possibilities, though grim, seem disturbingly plausible. Thumbtack seems to share your unease, as she ensures she flies at a distance and height away from the creature so as to not be caught in a potential blast zone.
"I don't like this Nikita," she telepathically conveys. "Surely this creature is but a cog in a much larger, malevolent design."
Nikita's checks:
Arcana
You are certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the feeble creature before you is naught but a vessel, its mind enslaved by the will of another. Its every move, its vacant expressions, and the lifeless aura that surrounds it bear the unmistakable marks of a powerful spellcaster's dominion. Yet, deep within the recesses of this puppeted shell, you sense a flicker of the original being, a glimmer of what once was.
Within the depths of your soul, a glimmer of hope ignites. If the spell were to be shattered, or the dark hand of the caster severed, the imprisoned essence of the creature might be released from its torment. As you meticulously examine the creature before you for any magical traps or devices, your mind becomes entangled in a web of moral complexity. The realisation that this being is merely a vessel, bereft of free will and under the sway of another's malevolence, tugs at the fibres of your conscience. Can one truly justify the act of slaying a creature that bears no culpability for its actions?
In the dim light, a glimmer catches your eye, revealing faint magical runes delicately etched upon the creature's tattered robes; barely visible to the untrained eye. Their ethereal glow, although subtle, hints at a formidable power that holds sway over this hapless minion. The inscriptions, written in a twisted and arcane script, dance before your gaze, their dark language shrouded in secrecy. Though the true purpose of the runes remains shrouded in mystery, one thing is certain: the consequences of disrupting the creature's task could be catastrophic for the party.
Perception
As you concentrate on the pitiful thrall, Thumbtack sends a flurry of images to your mind, revealing the true extent of the creature's wretched state. Boils and pox mark its skin, hidden beneath the patchy, dishevelled black feathers, hinting at potential disease. Its eyes are red-ringed and blotchy, feathers falling out in patches, and its beak marred with filth and scars.
Yet, amidst this pitiable sight, the owl's keen senses pick up on a subtle sound - a delicate jingling of metal on metal, emanating from beneath the creature's robes. The sound is unmistakable, the gentle clash of keys hidden deep within the folds of the thrall's garb.
Nikita's voice sounds pained and slightly hoarse. "This... this creature is a slave, diseased and likely near dead. Enthralled by runic magic on the shreds of its robes which I cannot fully decipher, but may be dangerous if disrupted. We should not assault it. And yet it carries..."
She switches to dwarvish, which she suspects is not a typical language in the Feyrealm, but one that she seems to remember that both Boyd and Meresaa may understand. Hoping not to give away her meaning to the unfortunate avian thrall or its potentially watching and listening masters.
"Thumbtack heard the clink of keys within the folds of its tattered clothing. Perhaps Boyd can... borrow... the keyring for us?" Nikita moves near Boyd so Thumbtack can whisper the perceived location of the keys within the creature's garb in the grizzled rogue's ear. "Lady Meresaa, can you give our man some distraction or guidance perhaps, if he were to make the attempt? What do you say, uncle Boyd?"
Nikita considers. "Or we could simply follow them at a distance, hoping they use the keys to lead us where we need to go." (Nikita sounds less sanguine about this more passive alternative).
If Boyd does make an attempt at the keys, Nikita tries to help him with her Mage Hand, waving in the face of the hapless, feathered slave to distract them and poking them in the chest if that fails to elicit a response. (Trying to grant Boydadvantage).
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
After an initial shock of hearing Dwarvish for the first time in a while, Boyd looks determined to nab those keys. "Well, in for a penny in for a platinum..."he says as he creeps toward the enslaved creature in rags. He allows Nikita's mage hand to carefully pull away folds of the creature's clothing to reveal the suspected key ring. His thick sausage fingers belie a practiced dexterity as he nimbly works at unhooking the keyring.
Stealth: 7 (hopefully this doesn't matter... the creature didn't seem to be paying much attention) Sleight of Hand: 22 (with advantage from Nikita) Guidance 3 (if Meresaa casts it)
Driven by the allure of the jangling keys, Boyd and Nikita concoct a swift plan. With cautious steps, Boyd's attempt at stealth resembles a herd of elephants tiptoeing across a field of shattered glass. Yet, the avian creature remains undisturbed by his approach. Assisted by Nikita's mage hand, the nimble thief reaches out, aiming to delve beneath the creature's robes and seize the coveted keys.
Fortune smiles upon them as Boyd's fingers close around the metallic prize. A cold sensation courses through his hand, sending shivers down his spine. Relief washes over him, granting a fleeting moment to exhale. But, within the blink of an eye, the chill seizes hold, creeping relentlessly up his arm and then into his shoulder. Panic swells as the icy touch spreads, growing ever closer to his chest, it begins to engulf his body in a frigid grip.
Boyd - Please make a Constitution Saving Throw.
Regrettably, as Boyd's fingertips succumb to the chilling grasp of the enchanted keys, the party's attention is drawn elsewhere. In a fateful moment, Nikita's mage hand prods the otherwise tranquil avian creature, which unleashes an otherworldly scream that rends the air. Suddenly perceiving the party as a grave threat, the creature's demeanour morphs with a tremor rippling through its shoulders, and its form crumples inward. Where it had previously ignored their presence, it now defiantly howls and stretches out its grasp toward Meresaa.
A fit of convulsions overtakes the afflicted avian creature, causing it to cough up a viscous black substance that writhes and pulsates. In a grotesque display, the host form collapses into a visceral explosion of blood and gore. Emerging from the chaotic remnants, an amorphous black ooze takes shape, shifting and contorting with malicious intent. Sinister tentacles writhe upon its form, while a gaping maw materialises at its centre. With calculated malevolence, it advances toward Meresaa, trailing a trail of oily black residue in its wake.
Boyd quickly recoils from the unexpected chill. He holds his breath and tests his hand while stepping away from the creature. For a moment, his hand looks fine, until an expression of pure panic freezes his face in horror. He pats his harm and shoulder, as if trying to staunch the progress of some unseen malady.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Curious"the firbolg whispers as his rotates the small trinket in his massive palm. He looks over to Meresaa and tosses the object through the air towards her in a gentle pass. "Verily, you may be able to make more of this," he explains in a calm tone, as the auburn blaze of the bonfire casts vibrant shadows about the dank room. He hefts his glaive up onto his shoulder before the sound of commotion from Boyd and Nikita comes from down the hallways. The Lord of Autumn gives a sly nod and a wink to the Vedalken before turning to face the next set of opposition.
Boyd - As the icy touch of the enchanted keys lingers, a chilling dread washes over Boyd's being. The sensation crawls up his arms like a creeping frost, constricting his muscles and numbing his senses. Desperation courses through his veins as he struggles to resist the encroaching cold, but it proves futile. The frosty tendrils of magic refuse to relent, seizing hold of his body with an unyielding grip. They ascend his limbs, entwining him in an icy embrace that steals away warmth and life. With each passing moment, Boyd's movements grow sluggish, his breath turning to mist in the frigid air.
His efforts to resist become feeble as the frost continues its relentless advance, encasing him in a cocoon of solid ice. It engulfs him completely, transforming him into a frozen statue of despair. His eyes, wide with panic, stare out from the icy prison, and his form is trapped in a moment of desperate struggle.
You take an unmitigated 22 colddamage
Whilst encased in the icy tomb you are restrained, but have resistance to all damage types
To escape you must make a successful Constitution Saving Throw (DC 14) at the end of your turn
Battle
Formless Spawn's Turn
The formless black mass writhes and undulates with sinister energy, its inky darkness seeming to consume the very light around it. As it elongates and expands, its shifting shape takes on a nightmarish quality. A grotesque tentacle emerges from the depths of its amorphous form, reaching out with malevolent intent. Driven by a maddening hunger, the tentacle thrashes through the air with savage grace. The tendril writhe and twists, its focus still on Thumbtack. With a terrifying speed and precision, the tentacle surges forward, lashing out at the unsuspecting owl. The air crackles with malevolence as it seeks to ensnare and crush its feathery target.
Form: Whip Tendrils
Attack: 14, Damage: 8
The impact is accompanied by a sickening sound, a bone-chilling collision of flesh and shadow. In a puff of feathers and desperate cries, Thumbtack is ensnared within the grip of the monstrous appendage. The tentacle constricts with a vice-like grip and squeezes the life out of the valiant owl.
Boyd - Trapped within a frigid cocoon of ice, your senses are dulled, and your body is rendered immobile. The world around you fades into a blurry haze as the biting cold pierces through your very being. Desperation sets in as the freezing grip tightens, sapping away your strength and resolve. In the periphery of your vision, a flicker of movement catches your attention—a brief glimpse of the formless, black, oily creature lashing out at the startled Thumbtack. But your frozen prison denies you the chance to fully comprehend the unfolding scene, as a searing chill courses through your veins, stealing away your focus.
The stabbing cold intensifies, invading every fibre of your being like a thousand icy needles piercing your flesh. It creeps deeper, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. Each breath becomes a struggle, the air itself turning into shards of ice in your lungs, as you take another4 colddamage. You know that the situation is desperate and that you need to break your icy prison as soon as possible. It is your turn.
Battlemap:
Initiative Order:
Formless Spawn (Large) - 20 - Black Bacteria Symbol
Boyd desperately attempts to staunch the flow of the ice creeping up his arm, but to no avail. He begins to yell in abject terror as the growing ice spreads over his whole body, sapping the heat from him and leaving his skin blue and covered in small needle-like ice crystals. As the ice reaches his throat, his yell suddenly weakens to a squeak. Nearly completely immobile, his limbs still shiver softly, and his eyes dart around in panic. His knife hand twists slowly and nervously near the hunched figure haunting the periphery of his vision.
Nikita sees Boyd freezing up after reaching towards the avian creature's tattered robes for the keys, then witnesses the transformation into the tentacled horror before them now. Eerily reminiscent of the fully-integrated Sagacitas she thinks with a lump in her throat as she hastily readies her rapier.
Her concern turns suddenly to alarm as the Formless Spawn lashes unerringly at her owl familiar. "No! Thumbtack, Boyd..."
Reacting instinctively as one newly touched by the Feyrealm, she holds forth her off hand and jagged streaks of silvery-blue light streak into the writhing attacker's field of vision, distracting it's assault and jolting the grizzled rogue to aid his effort to break free of the icy grip of dark magic.
(Silvery Barbs as reaction on Formless Spawn's turn - it must re-roll attack on Thumbtack, keeping lower roll. Boyd makes CON save at advantage.)
The impact is accompanied by a sickening sound, a bone-chilling collision of flesh and shadow. In a puff of feathers and desperate cries, Thumbtack is ensnared within the grip of the monstrous appendage. The tentacle constricts with a vice-like grip and squeezes the life out of the valiant owl.
With a sickening thud, the oily tendril strikes Thumbtack, eliciting a pained hoot and scattering feathers. Yet, thanks to Meresaa's protective enchantments, the resilient owl manages to evade a fatal blow, escaping the clutches of the inky menace. "Nikita?!" she cries out telepathically.
(Nikita's reaction resets at the start of her turn).
Grimacing as the Formless Spawn's tentacle viciously strikes Thumbtack despite her distracting magic, Nikita thanks Tymora for the fortune of Meresaa's sheltering device preserving her owl companion. I thank the tall blue lady myself. I do not know how her contraptions work but they may save us.
Distract and away behind the others!Nikita sends the thought to Thumbtack and the owl desperately flaps her wings in the Formless Spawn's face (taking the [action]help[/action action) before flying away northwest, roughly above the Lord of Autumn's location, within 10' diagonally of Meresaa's eldritch cannon, hoping to replenish its protective enchantment on herself. Using owls' Flyby capability to avoid opportunity attack from the Formless Spawn.
Almost, Nikita considers calling on her training to start her final Bladesong of the day but decides instead to hold it in reserve. In case of some even greater enemy lurking in the corrupted temple. To defend herself, she maintains concentration on Protection from Evil and Good (10 minute duration).
Instead, she moves to the south and attacks with her rapier and Booming Blade. At advantage thanks to Thumbtack'shelp.
Nikita'sRapier to hit the Formless Spawn (at advantage): 17 Nikita'sRapier damage: 10 piercing Nikita'sBooming Blade secondary damage if the Formless Spawn moves voluntarily before Nikita's next turn after being hit: 5 thunder
Note 1: Nikita'sSilvery Barbs reaction on the Formless Spawn's turn grants Boyd advantage on his CON save (no help from Thumbtack needed).
"May cursssesss befall thee, oh Azzzure One. May a pox be visited upon thee and thy accurssssed cohort,"it utters, spitting out the words with venomous intent.
"Pff," Meresaa scoffs as the tiny creature finally succumbs to its wounds. "I've salves and poultices for all manner of pox." She wipes her dagger on the dead serpentfolk's clothes and rights herself.
The Lord of Autumn gives a sly nod and a wink to the Vedalken before turning to face the next set of opposition.
The rich hues of blue on her face seem to flush as she pointedly stares at the stone in her hand. When the situation seems to require her attention, she pockets the item quickly and assesses the scene as it develops.
A sudden jolt of strength and inspiration strikes Boyd as he needs it most - a sudden heat, not unlike a gulp of strong whisky, burns in his stomach, demanding that his numb muscles break free of their icy shackles. With a sudden crack, Boyd breaks free of his gelid prison, and the ice crystals that had begun to grow on his skin shatter and fall to the damp stone floor. "Phew" he works his muscles and leans into his usual fighting stance, "Not so easy to take down a Nilsson."
((technically his con save was at the end of his turn, so his action remains Ready action: attack if someone flanks))
Faila had begun to snarl as Nikita and Boyd went to accost the numbed avian creature, and as it implodes in reaction, she begins to shriek and howl, her feathers and teeth flurrying in a frenzy as she seems to become more angry and unglued by the moment. While she's been hiding behind Meresaa, she moves out between her and the terrible black ooze, challenging howls and honks echoing through the air and bouncing off of the stone walls. It's a fearsome display, daring the monstrosity to come and fight.
Faila stands in between Meresaa and the ooze and takes the Dodge.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As he turns away from Meresaa to size up the next opposition, the Lord of Autumn raises his glaive above his head. Giving a quick stomp, the leaves that were resting on the ground from the previous melee reverberate back up into the air. Swirling the weapon in a circle, the leaves begin to stick and catch upon the head of the blade, coming together to take a long and pointed shape.
Now wielding something more of a lance, he brings the weapon behind his back to wind-up and places his opposing hand in front of himself as a brace. Striding forward powerfully, he gets into range and whips the arboreal spear in a massive thrust towards the formless mass, taking opportunity to provide Faila support and cover Meresaa's flank.
(Movement down two spaces and right two spaces to end up adjacent to Meresaa, within 10ft range of glaive)
((I shall try and keep this in chronological order as events unfold!))
Boyd's Turn
As the encroaching frost threatens to entomb his body, Boyd fights against its numbing grip, mustering his inner strength. With unwavering resolve, he bides his time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. His eyes scan the battlefield, seeking the perfect opening to launch a coordinated assault with his allies. Each breath he takes fills him with determination, fueling his anticipation for the decisive blow that will shatter the abhorrent creature.
In a twist of fate, as Nikita's enchanting silvery barbs weave their way across Boyd's body, a surge of power courses through him. The frigid grasp that once threatened to engulf him dissipates, replaced by a newfound inner warmth and an unyielding resolve. The malevolent spell that held him captive shatters beneath his indomitable spirit. The once-enchanted ring now rests comfortably in his hand, no longer a burden but a source of curiosity.
Nikita's Turn
With Nikita's telepathic instructions resonating in Thumbtack's mind, the faithful owl becomes a vessel of unwavering loyalty. Without hesitation, she sets her wings in motion, gliding gracefully towards the formless, inky black monstrosity. With precise timing and unwavering focus, she executes her mistress's plan flawlessly. Her sudden presence and nimble movements serve as a momentary distraction, drawing the attention of the creature and providing a valuable opening for Nikita to strike.
Nikita's momentary hesitation vanishes, replaced by a surge of determination and skill. Her gaze narrows on the undulating abomination, her grip firm on the hilt of her rapier. Seizing the opening created by Thumbtack's diversion, she springs forward, a whirlwind of lethal grace. Yet, in a lightning-quick blur, one of the creature's tendrils lashes out, intercepting her attack with an unexpected parry. The force of the blow sends her rapier spinning away, deflected from the core of the creature's form.
Reaction: Parrying Tendrils
Boyd - As Nikita is now flanking the enemy, your readied action is triggered. Please make an attack against the Formless Spawn.
Faila's Turn
A surge of inner strength surges through Faila's as the abominable spawn threatens her friend. With every step she takes, she unleashes a primal symphony of defiant, guttural challenges. Though the spawn lacks a conventional head, its form contorts and writhes, its attention undeniably fixated upon Faila's vibrant presence. A silent yet fierce exchange of defiance and primal dominance takes place between them, each one proclaiming their unspoken challenge, daring the other to make the first move.
((Faila - I've moved you to a position between the spawn and Meresaa, but not quite in melee range. I assume this was roughly where you wanted.))
Lord of Autumn's Turn
((LoA - Moved you down two and across one, to the position I believe you referenced - within 10ft of the creature.))
In perfect harmony with the whims of the Lord of Autumn, the leaves awaken from their slumber upon the dank basement floor, their dance mirroring the commands of their master. They twirl and spin around his gleaming glaive, a symphony of vibrant hues and rustling whispers. With unwavering focus, the Lord of Autumn strides forward, his purpose clear and resolute. His mighty weapon rises high, poised to deliver a devastating strike upon the unruly inky spawn.
The weight of his swing crashes down upon the abomination, showing no mercy in its execution. The spawn, in a feeble attempt to defend itself, summons an inky tendril to parry the blow. Yet, it proves futile. The Lord of Autumn's strike breaches the creature's defences, piercing deep into its core. Agonised contortions ripple through the spawn's form, a testament to the pain inflicted by the Lord of Autumn's unyielding assault.
From the amorphous mass of the spawn, a grotesque aberration briefly manifests—a twisted maw materialising amidst the swirling chaos. Though its shriek is soundless, the grotesque mouth contorts in a silent expression of anguish and despair. It is a momentary glimpse into the depths of the creature's torment, a glimpse into the soul that once resided in the bloody husk that remains of the bewitched servant's body. The silent shriek fades as quickly as it appeared, consumed once more by the formless mass of the abomination.
Meresaa - You hold the polished stone in your hand, its dark hue resembling the depths of onyx. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch, and your fingers trace the intricate carving of a diamond at its centre. The craftsmanship is exquisite, the lines of the diamond etched with meticulous precision. You cannot help but wonder about the stone's purpose. Shoving the item quickly into your pocket you watch as the horrific scene with the avian creature unfolds before your eyes. Spotting your chance to act, you spring into action. It is your turn.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
readied attack: 20 to hit; 6 piercing + 12 sneak attack w/ Nikita in melee range of the creature.
As Nikita dances to the creature's flank, Boyd relies on his instincts to strike when the beast is distracted, even if he can't see its eyes and its body is a mass that shows no "front" or "back." As it slaps Nikita's rapier away with a tendril, Boyd lunges in, attempting to shove the dagger deep into the creature's inky flesh.
Nearly tripping over Failasaur as she starts forward to help Boyd, Meresaa takes a brief moment to reevaluate the situation before placing a hand on her beastly companion's back with a pleading, "Be more cautious with this one. I don't think tackling it is a good idea," as she casts guidance on the druid.
She deftly steps the deinonychus and the Lord of Autumn, positioning herself about 10ft from Boyd, and clicks the device as it whirs to life once more.
The Lord of Autumn, Boyd, Faila, Meresaa, and the device itself receive 8 temp HP to replace any lesser amount they may currently have (or keep their current temp HP if it's more).
Her eyes then focus back on the writhing, toothy mound of black snot and she thinks better of her current trajectory and hops back behind the Lord of Autumn (beside Failasaur).
Boyd - The figure plays you little heed as it walks past, consumed by the task at hand, and unswayed by the gruesome aftermath that lingers in the air. The acrid stench of the charred serpentfolk flesh, though potent, pales in comparison to the foul odour that emanates from the creature's filth. Though your dagger glints in the light of the fire, the figure's expression remains blank.
Faila - You take refuge behind Meresaa, watching cautiously as the figure passes unspeaking through the chamber. A twinge of compassion pierces your heart, for in that fleeting moment, you recognise the unmistakable visage of a downtrodden soul, weathered by the harshest of existence; had you chanced upon this pitiable being in the bustling streets of a city, you would have easily mistaken it for a destitute beggar or a weary vagrant.
Lord of Autumn - Your hands dig through the jumble of refuse and castoffs, feeling for something, anything of value amidst the detritus. The serpentfolk's hoard yields little of interest at first, a collection of useless trinkets and items that hold no value to you. But then, as your fingers probe deeper, you find something that catches your eye - a small, polished stone, barely larger than a coin. Despite its diminutive size, you can tell that it's been carefully crafted, its surface as smooth as glass and the diamond symbol etched into its surface is as black as the deepest shadows. It's a curious item, and you can't help but wonder what its purpose might be.
Nikita - Your mind races, weaving a tapestry of dark possibilities as you contemplate the enigma of the pitiful creature before you. Could this wretched being have been a pawn in a more insidious game? The fetid odour that emanates from its wretched form hints at a lingering pestilence, a putrescent taint that clings to its very essence. And those lifeless eyes, devoid of any spark, speak volumes of the torment it has endured. Could such a creature be manipulated, twisted into undertaking whatever dark tasks are asked of it? A tool crafted to deceive and sow destruction, lurking within the guise of feebleness until the opportune moment to unleash chaos.
With a sense of unease settling in, you ponder the motivations behind such a twisted scheme. Was it an act of vengeance, a way to strike at the heart of enemies through unsuspecting means? Or perhaps a display of calculated cruelty, revelling in the suffering inflicted by a creature seemingly beneath notice? The possibilities, though grim, seem disturbingly plausible. Thumbtack seems to share your unease, as she ensures she flies at a distance and height away from the creature so as to not be caught in a potential blast zone.
"I don't like this Nikita," she telepathically conveys. "Surely this creature is but a cog in a much larger, malevolent design."
Nikita's checks:
Arcana
You are certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the feeble creature before you is naught but a vessel, its mind enslaved by the will of another. Its every move, its vacant expressions, and the lifeless aura that surrounds it bear the unmistakable marks of a powerful spellcaster's dominion. Yet, deep within the recesses of this puppeted shell, you sense a flicker of the original being, a glimmer of what once was.
Within the depths of your soul, a glimmer of hope ignites. If the spell were to be shattered, or the dark hand of the caster severed, the imprisoned essence of the creature might be released from its torment. As you meticulously examine the creature before you for any magical traps or devices, your mind becomes entangled in a web of moral complexity. The realisation that this being is merely a vessel, bereft of free will and under the sway of another's malevolence, tugs at the fibres of your conscience. Can one truly justify the act of slaying a creature that bears no culpability for its actions?
In the dim light, a glimmer catches your eye, revealing faint magical runes delicately etched upon the creature's tattered robes; barely visible to the untrained eye. Their ethereal glow, although subtle, hints at a formidable power that holds sway over this hapless minion. The inscriptions, written in a twisted and arcane script, dance before your gaze, their dark language shrouded in secrecy. Though the true purpose of the runes remains shrouded in mystery, one thing is certain: the consequences of disrupting the creature's task could be catastrophic for the party.
Perception
As you concentrate on the pitiful thrall, Thumbtack sends a flurry of images to your mind, revealing the true extent of the creature's wretched state. Boils and pox mark its skin, hidden beneath the patchy, dishevelled black feathers, hinting at potential disease. Its eyes are red-ringed and blotchy, feathers falling out in patches, and its beak marred with filth and scars.
Yet, amidst this pitiable sight, the owl's keen senses pick up on a subtle sound - a delicate jingling of metal on metal, emanating from beneath the creature's robes. The sound is unmistakable, the gentle clash of keys hidden deep within the folds of the thrall's garb.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Nikita's voice sounds pained and slightly hoarse. "This... this creature is a slave, diseased and likely near dead. Enthralled by runic magic on the shreds of its robes which I cannot fully decipher, but may be dangerous if disrupted. We should not assault it. And yet it carries..."
She switches to dwarvish, which she suspects is not a typical language in the Feyrealm, but one that she seems to remember that both Boyd and Meresaa may understand. Hoping not to give away her meaning to the unfortunate avian thrall or its potentially watching and listening masters.
"Thumbtack heard the clink of keys within the folds of its tattered clothing. Perhaps Boyd can... borrow... the keyring for us?" Nikita moves near Boyd so Thumbtack can whisper the perceived location of the keys within the creature's garb in the grizzled rogue's ear. "Lady Meresaa, can you give our man some distraction or guidance perhaps, if he were to make the attempt? What do you say, uncle Boyd?"
Nikita considers. "Or we could simply follow them at a distance, hoping they use the keys to lead us where we need to go." (Nikita sounds less sanguine about this more passive alternative).
If Boyd does make an attempt at the keys, Nikita tries to help him with her Mage Hand, waving in the face of the hapless, feathered slave to distract them and poking them in the chest if that fails to elicit a response. (Trying to grant Boyd advantage).
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
After an initial shock of hearing Dwarvish for the first time in a while, Boyd looks determined to nab those keys. "Well, in for a penny in for a platinum..." he says as he creeps toward the enslaved creature in rags. He allows Nikita's mage hand to carefully pull away folds of the creature's clothing to reveal the suspected key ring. His thick sausage fingers belie a practiced dexterity as he nimbly works at unhooking the keyring.
Stealth: 7 (hopefully this doesn't matter... the creature didn't seem to be paying much attention)
Sleight of Hand: 22 (with advantage from Nikita)
Guidance 3 (if Meresaa casts it)
Afternoon - Day 1 - Cause and Effect
Driven by the allure of the jangling keys, Boyd and Nikita concoct a swift plan. With cautious steps, Boyd's attempt at stealth resembles a herd of elephants tiptoeing across a field of shattered glass. Yet, the avian creature remains undisturbed by his approach. Assisted by Nikita's mage hand, the nimble thief reaches out, aiming to delve beneath the creature's robes and seize the coveted keys.
Fortune smiles upon them as Boyd's fingers close around the metallic prize. A cold sensation courses through his hand, sending shivers down his spine. Relief washes over him, granting a fleeting moment to exhale. But, within the blink of an eye, the chill seizes hold, creeping relentlessly up his arm and then into his shoulder. Panic swells as the icy touch spreads, growing ever closer to his chest, it begins to engulf his body in a frigid grip.
Boyd - Please make a Constitution Saving Throw.
Regrettably, as Boyd's fingertips succumb to the chilling grasp of the enchanted keys, the party's attention is drawn elsewhere. In a fateful moment, Nikita's mage hand prods the otherwise tranquil avian creature, which unleashes an otherworldly scream that rends the air. Suddenly perceiving the party as a grave threat, the creature's demeanour morphs with a tremor rippling through its shoulders, and its form crumples inward. Where it had previously ignored their presence, it now defiantly howls and stretches out its grasp toward Meresaa.
A fit of convulsions overtakes the afflicted avian creature, causing it to cough up a viscous black substance that writhes and pulsates. In a grotesque display, the host form collapses into a visceral explosion of blood and gore. Emerging from the chaotic remnants, an amorphous black ooze takes shape, shifting and contorting with malicious intent. Sinister tentacles writhe upon its form, while a gaping maw materialises at its centre. With calculated malevolence, it advances toward Meresaa, trailing a trail of oily black residue in its wake.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Faila initiative: 11
Con save: 5
Initiative: 16
Boyd quickly recoils from the unexpected chill. He holds his breath and tests his hand while stepping away from the creature. For a moment, his hand looks fine, until an expression of pure panic freezes his face in horror. He pats his harm and shoulder, as if trying to staunch the progress of some unseen malady.
Nikita Initiative: 11
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"Curious" the firbolg whispers as his rotates the small trinket in his massive palm. He looks over to Meresaa and tosses the object through the air towards her in a gentle pass. "Verily, you may be able to make more of this," he explains in a calm tone, as the auburn blaze of the bonfire casts vibrant shadows about the dank room. He hefts his glaive up onto his shoulder before the sound of commotion from Boyd and Nikita comes from down the hallways. The Lord of Autumn gives a sly nod and a wink to the Vedalken before turning to face the next set of opposition.
The Lord of Autumn Initiative: 10
Darkness Unbound - Round #1 - Start of Round / Formless Spawn's Turn
Pre-Battle
Boyd - As the icy touch of the enchanted keys lingers, a chilling dread washes over Boyd's being. The sensation crawls up his arms like a creeping frost, constricting his muscles and numbing his senses. Desperation courses through his veins as he struggles to resist the encroaching cold, but it proves futile. The frosty tendrils of magic refuse to relent, seizing hold of his body with an unyielding grip. They ascend his limbs, entwining him in an icy embrace that steals away warmth and life. With each passing moment, Boyd's movements grow sluggish, his breath turning to mist in the frigid air.
His efforts to resist become feeble as the frost continues its relentless advance, encasing him in a cocoon of solid ice. It engulfs him completely, transforming him into a frozen statue of despair. His eyes, wide with panic, stare out from the icy prison, and his form is trapped in a moment of desperate struggle.
Battle
Formless Spawn's Turn
The formless black mass writhes and undulates with sinister energy, its inky darkness seeming to consume the very light around it. As it elongates and expands, its shifting shape takes on a nightmarish quality. A grotesque tentacle emerges from the depths of its amorphous form, reaching out with malevolent intent. Driven by a maddening hunger, the tentacle thrashes through the air with savage grace. The tendril writhe and twists, its focus still on Thumbtack. With a terrifying speed and precision, the tentacle surges forward, lashing out at the unsuspecting owl. The air crackles with malevolence as it seeks to ensnare and crush its feathery target.
The impact is accompanied by a sickening sound, a bone-chilling collision of flesh and shadow. In a puff of feathers and desperate cries, Thumbtack is ensnared within the grip of the monstrous appendage. The tentacle constricts with a vice-like grip and squeezes the life out of the valiant owl.
Boyd - Trapped within a frigid cocoon of ice, your senses are dulled, and your body is rendered immobile. The world around you fades into a blurry haze as the biting cold pierces through your very being. Desperation sets in as the freezing grip tightens, sapping away your strength and resolve. In the periphery of your vision, a flicker of movement catches your attention—a brief glimpse of the formless, black, oily creature lashing out at the startled Thumbtack. But your frozen prison denies you the chance to fully comprehend the unfolding scene, as a searing chill courses through your veins, stealing away your focus.
The stabbing cold intensifies, invading every fibre of your being like a thousand icy needles piercing your flesh. It creeps deeper, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. Each breath becomes a struggle, the air itself turning into shards of ice in your lungs, as you take another 4 cold damage. You know that the situation is desperate and that you need to break your icy prison as soon as possible. It is your turn.
Battlemap:
Initiative Order:
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Action: ready an action to stab if anyone flanks.
Con save: 10
Boyd desperately attempts to staunch the flow of the ice creeping up his arm, but to no avail. He begins to yell in abject terror as the growing ice spreads over his whole body, sapping the heat from him and leaving his skin blue and covered in small needle-like ice crystals. As the ice reaches his throat, his yell suddenly weakens to a squeak. Nearly completely immobile, his limbs still shiver softly, and his eyes dart around in panic. His knife hand twists slowly and nervously near the hunched figure haunting the periphery of his vision.
Nikita sees Boyd freezing up after reaching towards the avian creature's tattered robes for the keys, then witnesses the transformation into the tentacled horror before them now. Eerily reminiscent of the fully-integrated Sagacitas she thinks with a lump in her throat as she hastily readies her rapier.
Her concern turns suddenly to alarm as the Formless Spawn lashes unerringly at her owl familiar. "No! Thumbtack, Boyd..."
Reacting instinctively as one newly touched by the Feyrealm, she holds forth her off hand and jagged streaks of silvery-blue light streak into the writhing attacker's field of vision, distracting it's assault and jolting the grizzled rogue to aid his effort to break free of the icy grip of dark magic.
(Silvery Barbs as reaction on Formless Spawn's turn - it must re-roll attack on Thumbtack, keeping lower roll. Boyd makes CON save at advantage.)
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Retconned Formless Spawn's Turn
19With a sickening thud, the oily tendril strikes Thumbtack, eliciting a pained hoot and scattering feathers. Yet, thanks to Meresaa's protective enchantments, the resilient owl manages to evade a fatal blow, escaping the clutches of the inky menace. "Nikita?!" she cries out telepathically.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
(Nikita's reaction resets at the start of her turn).
Grimacing as the Formless Spawn's tentacle viciously strikes Thumbtack despite her distracting magic, Nikita thanks Tymora for the fortune of Meresaa's sheltering device preserving her owl companion. I thank the tall blue lady myself. I do not know how her contraptions work but they may save us.
Distract and away behind the others! Nikita sends the thought to Thumbtack and the owl desperately flaps her wings in the Formless Spawn's face (taking the [action]help[/action action) before flying away northwest, roughly above the Lord of Autumn's location, within 10' diagonally of Meresaa's eldritch cannon, hoping to replenish its protective enchantment on herself. Using owls' Flyby capability to avoid opportunity attack from the Formless Spawn.
Almost, Nikita considers calling on her training to start her final Bladesong of the day but decides instead to hold it in reserve. In case of some even greater enemy lurking in the corrupted temple. To defend herself, she maintains concentration on Protection from Evil and Good (10 minute duration).
Instead, she moves to the south and attacks with her rapier and Booming Blade. At advantage thanks to Thumbtack's help.
Nikita's Rapier to hit the Formless Spawn (at advantage): 17
Nikita's Rapier damage: 10 piercing
Nikita's Booming Blade secondary damage if the Formless Spawn moves voluntarily before Nikita's next turn after being hit: 5 thunder
Note 1: Nikita's Silvery Barbs reaction on the Formless Spawn's turn grants Boyd advantage on his CON save (no help from Thumbtack needed).
Note 2: Nikita has reactions again and may (again) use one. On Shield, Silvery Barbs or Absorb Elements.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"Pff," Meresaa scoffs as the tiny creature finally succumbs to its wounds. "I've salves and poultices for all manner of pox." She wipes her dagger on the dead serpentfolk's clothes and rights herself.
Reaching out, she catches the object and gives it a quick glace.
The rich hues of blue on her face seem to flush as she pointedly stares at the stone in her hand. When the situation seems to require her attention, she pockets the item quickly and assesses the scene as it develops.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Con save reroll: 22 (rolled in game log)
A sudden jolt of strength and inspiration strikes Boyd as he needs it most - a sudden heat, not unlike a gulp of strong whisky, burns in his stomach, demanding that his numb muscles break free of their icy shackles. With a sudden crack, Boyd breaks free of his gelid prison, and the ice crystals that had begun to grow on his skin shatter and fall to the damp stone floor. "Phew" he works his muscles and leans into his usual fighting stance, "Not so easy to take down a Nilsson."
((technically his con save was at the end of his turn, so his action remains Ready action: attack if someone flanks))
Faila had begun to snarl as Nikita and Boyd went to accost the numbed avian creature, and as it implodes in reaction, she begins to shriek and howl, her feathers and teeth flurrying in a frenzy as she seems to become more angry and unglued by the moment. While she's been hiding behind Meresaa, she moves out between her and the terrible black ooze, challenging howls and honks echoing through the air and bouncing off of the stone walls. It's a fearsome display, daring the monstrosity to come and fight.
Faila stands in between Meresaa and the ooze and takes the Dodge.
As he turns away from Meresaa to size up the next opposition, the Lord of Autumn raises his glaive above his head. Giving a quick stomp, the leaves that were resting on the ground from the previous melee reverberate back up into the air. Swirling the weapon in a circle, the leaves begin to stick and catch upon the head of the blade, coming together to take a long and pointed shape.
Now wielding something more of a lance, he brings the weapon behind his back to wind-up and places his opposing hand in front of himself as a brace. Striding forward powerfully, he gets into range and whips the arboreal spear in a massive thrust towards the formless mass, taking opportunity to provide Faila support and cover Meresaa's flank.
(Movement down two spaces and right two spaces to end up adjacent to Meresaa, within 10ft range of glaive)
Attack w/Gathered Swarm: Attack: 23 Damage: 14
Darkness Unbound - Round #1
((I shall try and keep this in chronological order as events unfold!))
Boyd's Turn
As the encroaching frost threatens to entomb his body, Boyd fights against its numbing grip, mustering his inner strength. With unwavering resolve, he bides his time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. His eyes scan the battlefield, seeking the perfect opening to launch a coordinated assault with his allies. Each breath he takes fills him with determination, fueling his anticipation for the decisive blow that will shatter the abhorrent creature.
In a twist of fate, as Nikita's enchanting silvery barbs weave their way across Boyd's body, a surge of power courses through him. The frigid grasp that once threatened to engulf him dissipates, replaced by a newfound inner warmth and an unyielding resolve. The malevolent spell that held him captive shatters beneath his indomitable spirit. The once-enchanted ring now rests comfortably in his hand, no longer a burden but a source of curiosity.
Nikita's Turn
With Nikita's telepathic instructions resonating in Thumbtack's mind, the faithful owl becomes a vessel of unwavering loyalty. Without hesitation, she sets her wings in motion, gliding gracefully towards the formless, inky black monstrosity. With precise timing and unwavering focus, she executes her mistress's plan flawlessly. Her sudden presence and nimble movements serve as a momentary distraction, drawing the attention of the creature and providing a valuable opening for Nikita to strike.
Nikita's momentary hesitation vanishes, replaced by a surge of determination and skill. Her gaze narrows on the undulating abomination, her grip firm on the hilt of her rapier. Seizing the opening created by Thumbtack's diversion, she springs forward, a whirlwind of lethal grace. Yet, in a lightning-quick blur, one of the creature's tendrils lashes out, intercepting her attack with an unexpected parry. The force of the blow sends her rapier spinning away, deflected from the core of the creature's form.
Boyd - As Nikita is now flanking the enemy, your readied action is triggered. Please make an attack against the Formless Spawn.
Faila's Turn
A surge of inner strength surges through Faila's as the abominable spawn threatens her friend. With every step she takes, she unleashes a primal symphony of defiant, guttural challenges. Though the spawn lacks a conventional head, its form contorts and writhes, its attention undeniably fixated upon Faila's vibrant presence. A silent yet fierce exchange of defiance and primal dominance takes place between them, each one proclaiming their unspoken challenge, daring the other to make the first move.
((Faila - I've moved you to a position between the spawn and Meresaa, but not quite in melee range. I assume this was roughly where you wanted.))
Lord of Autumn's Turn
((LoA - Moved you down two and across one, to the position I believe you referenced - within 10ft of the creature.))
In perfect harmony with the whims of the Lord of Autumn, the leaves awaken from their slumber upon the dank basement floor, their dance mirroring the commands of their master. They twirl and spin around his gleaming glaive, a symphony of vibrant hues and rustling whispers. With unwavering focus, the Lord of Autumn strides forward, his purpose clear and resolute. His mighty weapon rises high, poised to deliver a devastating strike upon the unruly inky spawn.
The weight of his swing crashes down upon the abomination, showing no mercy in its execution. The spawn, in a feeble attempt to defend itself, summons an inky tendril to parry the blow. Yet, it proves futile. The Lord of Autumn's strike breaches the creature's defences, piercing deep into its core. Agonised contortions ripple through the spawn's form, a testament to the pain inflicted by the Lord of Autumn's unyielding assault.
From the amorphous mass of the spawn, a grotesque aberration briefly manifests—a twisted maw materialising amidst the swirling chaos. Though its shriek is soundless, the grotesque mouth contorts in a silent expression of anguish and despair. It is a momentary glimpse into the depths of the creature's torment, a glimpse into the soul that once resided in the bloody husk that remains of the bewitched servant's body. The silent shriek fades as quickly as it appeared, consumed once more by the formless mass of the abomination.
Meresaa - You hold the polished stone in your hand, its dark hue resembling the depths of onyx. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch, and your fingers trace the intricate carving of a diamond at its centre. The craftsmanship is exquisite, the lines of the diamond etched with meticulous precision. You cannot help but wonder about the stone's purpose. Shoving the item quickly into your pocket you watch as the horrific scene with the avian creature unfolds before your eyes. Spotting your chance to act, you spring into action. It is your turn.
Battlemap:
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
readied attack: 20 to hit; 6 piercing + 12 sneak attack w/ Nikita in melee range of the creature.
As Nikita dances to the creature's flank, Boyd relies on his instincts to strike when the beast is distracted, even if he can't see its eyes and its body is a mass that shows no "front" or "back." As it slaps Nikita's rapier away with a tendril, Boyd lunges in, attempting to shove the dagger deep into the creature's inky flesh.
Nearly tripping over Failasaur as she starts forward to help Boyd, Meresaa takes a brief moment to reevaluate the situation before placing a hand on her beastly companion's back with a pleading, "Be more cautious with this one. I don't think tackling it is a good idea," as she casts guidance on the druid.
She deftly steps the deinonychus and the Lord of Autumn, positioning herself about 10ft from Boyd, and clicks the device as it whirs to life once more.
The Lord of Autumn, Boyd, Faila, Meresaa, and the device itself receive 8 temp HP to replace any lesser amount they may currently have (or keep their current temp HP if it's more).
Her eyes then focus back on the writhing, toothy mound of black snot and she thinks better of her current trajectory and hops back behind the Lord of Autumn (beside Failasaur).
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age