The night before, after the Gate had closed early, the gnome cleric, relaxed by the view of the celestial waterfalls and in any case satisfied with having acquired more information about the environment in which she finds herself, had fallen asleep peacefully, lulled by the imperceptible but (for her) undeniable presence of Garl Glittergold, the god to whom she has devoted herself.
Now, while walking through the remains of the once great and beautiful city, Duwamilly asks Bridgette: "How come these ruins haven't been reborn...popularized by other people? This place could be wonderful again, it's obvious... Have no interested settlers arrived yet? Or is this a place deliberately left to the undead (who, after all, might have the right to a home too)?"
The idea of 'turning back' doesn't even remotely cross the ex-Preceptor's mind.
Delvindra shudders against the chill...whether it's a chill in the air or the chill of fear, she can't tell...and stays close to the others. She mutters a silent prayer to Ilmater for protection and casts a glance at Cal. It's been nearly a ten-day since he's fed the urges of his weapon. In this dread place, it's hard to suppress the feeling that they are all prey waiting for the predator among them to grow hungry again...
Didi crosses her arms and tries, futilely to rub away goosebumps that quite certainly have nothing to with the temperature.
Cal wakes in a cold sweat as the voice for blood starts to become unbearable. Cal will not be very chatty but he would be sure to inform the party that his curse is beginning to hit its limit. Cal looks around for anything that looks evil and fool of blood.
Bridgette answers Milly sadly as she looks upon the ruins.
"It's because the dead cannot sleep in this land," she says after a moment. "Anyone who passes away here is doomed to join the Lonely Ones who haunt the ruins."
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At Bridgette's words, Didi casts a glance at Yasmina. It's only the Half-Elf's confidence (or is it merely resigned acceptance of their fate) that gives the Tiefling the courage to continue.
"What happened here that the place is so cursed?"
"And why would your master help us if he allows this curse to continue," she thinks to herself.
"The blight isn't as strong in the village as the ruins," Bridgette says. "Though... it does still happen on occasion. One of the tasks that the Clerics of Boccob perform here is making sure that our dead are able to pass on peacefully into the next life."
She then turns to Delvindra.
"This was the doing of the Dark Elves," Bridgette growls. "They betrayed my Master and slaughtered every man, woman, and child in this city in blood sacrifices to the Spider Queen. I'm afraid I don't know why those who die here now can't rest... maybe the souls that are already here make too much of a racket for them to sleep?"
She smiles half-heartedly at her own joke, though it's clear even she doesn't find it all that funny.
"If you really want to know the arcane mechanics of this place you'd have to ask my Master. He's said a few times that it's a 'wound in the weave of magic' that makes this place what it is, but I honestly haven't got the slightest idea what that means."
Seeming quite relieved to be back on terra firma, Yasmina would try to enjoy herself at the tavern before sleeping soundly in the best room the tavern could offer.
The red-haired Half-Elf follows in silence, wary of any undead taking an interest in the team. It was somehwat reassuring that someone like the Half-Orc would willingly serve the Lich, but Yasmina still wasn't convinced seeking the aid of a powerful undead was the wisest decision, and what had been said about the Lich changing for the even more sinister was only making her more doubtful. There was no turning back now though, she had to know if the Lich could help her...
Seeming quite relieved to be back on terra firma, Yasmina would try to enjoy herself at the tavern before sleeping soundly in the best room the tavern could offer.
The red-haired Half-Elf follows in silence, wary of any undead taking an interest in the team. It was somehwat reassuring that someone like the Half-Orc would willingly serve the Lich, but Yasmina still wasn't convinced seeking the aid of a powerful undead was the wisest decision, and what had been said about the Lich changing for the even more sinister was only making her more doubtful. There was no turning back now though, she had to know if the Lich could help her...
Perception to notice threats: 9
Yeah... you can tell this place is creepy, that's about it.
Speaking of... you guys have about 3 hours of travel time on foot...
Seeming quite relieved to be back on terra firma, Yasmina would try to enjoy herself at the tavern before sleeping soundly in the best room the tavern could offer.
The red-haired Half-Elf follows in silence, wary of any undead taking an interest in the team. It was somehwat reassuring that someone like the Half-Orc would willingly serve the Lich, but Yasmina still wasn't convinced seeking the aid of a powerful undead was the wisest decision, and what had been said about the Lich changing for the even more sinister was only making her more doubtful. There was no turning back now though, she had to know if the Lich could help her...
Perception to notice threats: 9
Yeah... you can tell this place is creepy, that's about it.
Speaking of... you guys have about 3 hours of travel time on foot...
Hour 1: 70 Hour 2: 78 Hour 3: 34
Interesting results indeed...
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You notice a short figure (5'3") walking towards you. The first word that comes to mind is 'Green'. You also notice a large object on his back, a very large great sword. As he approaches he shouts "Hail travelers. My name is Zander Goldleaf and I was sent here to aid you by his lordship Akkron to aid and if you see fit, join your party." He looks, "Bridgette.? is that you?"
Quite shorter, is the figure who first steps forward to greet the newcomer: "Of course she's Bridgette!" assures the gnome "And I'm Duwamilly 'Planerunner' Gerinell! Nice to meet you, Zander, honey!"
This female, which measures not much more than 3', has long straight honey-colored hair that should be styled in a bun on her head... but, perhaps because the gnome is almost always on the move, several long locks have actually escaped the rigor of the hairstyle and wander freely, some falling on the face, some on the shoulder straps of a metal scale armor. In her right hand she holds a wand similar to the one a teacher would use to point out things during a lesson and every now and then she waves it indifferently, perhaps unconsciously, from side to side.
“How kind of you to come to our aid!” the little creature exclaims, delighted "You will certainly be very useful to us, with that big sword you have... Everyone knows it: easiest way to win a debate is to have a sharp sword at the ready..." short pause for effect, after which she smiles "Everybody will agree you have a good point!"
Zander would see a stout, warrior-type man in the back of the group with a bold head and brown skin. The man would not look up but Zander could see that the man was very distressed. If Zander had any danger sense he would not move towards the man.
"Yes Zander, it's me... right here, on the Shaded Isle where I happen to live. How's guard duty at my Master's keep going? You know, he usually leaves security in the hands of the undead, so you must have done something to impress him."
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"You know, Big flashy sword. Ooo every's impressed." He turns to his side as if speaking to someone.
He whispers "Shut up you hunk of tin. Yes, you are impressive. and Yes, you are the great sword. Oo." 2 hand wave in the air (sarcasm)
"It's nice to meet you all. This hunk of t... <cough> fine sword on my back is Snicker. Say hello."
You hear, from over his head, in a silvery and melodic tone, "Greetings people. It is I, the one, the only, Snicker Snack. Killer of Evil, vile, Dragons."
"Is it really you?" Duwamilly stands speechless for a few moments staring in fascination at the blade that has just spoken.
The ex-Preceptor then begins to recite from her memory, in admiration: "One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back."
"Are you the sword that inspired the great gnome she-poet Lesla Carrowil to compose these verses? (*)" the gnome cleric approaches the weapon, as if she wanted to caress it but didn't dare "Very pleased to have met you too, as well as your bearer! As it happens, we might just have dragon problems in the near future... I really hope that you will stay with us!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The party was travelling for about an hour and a half when Zander appeared to help lead you to the keep.
But as you continue, you get the uneasy feeling that something isn't quite right... perhaps it could just be that uneasy feeling of being watched by unseen spirits, but...
Everyone, make a Perception check against 18 (or use your Passive Perception score). If you succeed:
From the top of one of the nearby buildings, you see four winged creatures watching you with unfriendly expressions. They are roughly human-sized.
They somehow seem out of place, even in this land of the dead.
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Huddled under bright silk robes, a cobalt-skinned Tiefling with indigo hair sizes the newcomer up with her golden eyes and then casts a glance at the red-haired Half-Elf. She's short and slight, nearly a half foot shorter than Zander, and moves with a natural grace.
(The hair color is wrong, but otherwise...)
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The night before, after the Gate had closed early, the gnome cleric, relaxed by the view of the celestial waterfalls and in any case satisfied with having acquired more information about the environment in which she finds herself, had fallen asleep peacefully, lulled by the imperceptible but (for her) undeniable presence of Garl Glittergold, the god to whom she has devoted herself.
Now, while walking through the remains of the once great and beautiful city, Duwamilly asks Bridgette: "How come these ruins haven't been reborn...popularized by other people? This place could be wonderful again, it's obvious... Have no interested settlers arrived yet? Or is this a place deliberately left to the undead (who, after all, might have the right to a home too)?"
The idea of 'turning back' doesn't even remotely cross the ex-Preceptor's mind.
Delvindra shudders against the chill...whether it's a chill in the air or the chill of fear, she can't tell...and stays close to the others. She mutters a silent prayer to Ilmater for protection and casts a glance at Cal. It's been nearly a ten-day since he's fed the urges of his weapon. In this dread place, it's hard to suppress the feeling that they are all prey waiting for the predator among them to grow hungry again...
Didi crosses her arms and tries, futilely to rub away goosebumps that quite certainly have nothing to with the temperature.
Cal wakes in a cold sweat as the voice for blood starts to become unbearable. Cal will not be very chatty but he would be sure to inform the party that his curse is beginning to hit its limit. Cal looks around for anything that looks evil and fool of blood.
Bridgette answers Milly sadly as she looks upon the ruins.
"It's because the dead cannot sleep in this land," she says after a moment. "Anyone who passes away here is doomed to join the Lonely Ones who haunt the ruins."
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"Oh what a pity!" Duwamilly is also sorry "Is it the same for those who die in the village? Or can the fallen find peace in that place?"
At Bridgette's words, Didi casts a glance at Yasmina. It's only the Half-Elf's confidence (or is it merely resigned acceptance of their fate) that gives the Tiefling the courage to continue.
"What happened here that the place is so cursed?"
"And why would your master help us if he allows this curse to continue," she thinks to herself.
"The blight isn't as strong in the village as the ruins," Bridgette says. "Though... it does still happen on occasion. One of the tasks that the Clerics of Boccob perform here is making sure that our dead are able to pass on peacefully into the next life."
She then turns to Delvindra.
"This was the doing of the Dark Elves," Bridgette growls. "They betrayed my Master and slaughtered every man, woman, and child in this city in blood sacrifices to the Spider Queen. I'm afraid I don't know why those who die here now can't rest... maybe the souls that are already here make too much of a racket for them to sleep?"
She smiles half-heartedly at her own joke, though it's clear even she doesn't find it all that funny.
"If you really want to know the arcane mechanics of this place you'd have to ask my Master. He's said a few times that it's a 'wound in the weave of magic' that makes this place what it is, but I honestly haven't got the slightest idea what that means."
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
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Seeming quite relieved to be back on terra firma, Yasmina would try to enjoy herself at the tavern before sleeping soundly in the best room the tavern could offer.
The red-haired Half-Elf follows in silence, wary of any undead taking an interest in the team. It was somehwat reassuring that someone like the Half-Orc would willingly serve the Lich, but Yasmina still wasn't convinced seeking the aid of a powerful undead was the wisest decision, and what had been said about the Lich changing for the even more sinister was only making her more doubtful. There was no turning back now though, she had to know if the Lich could help her...
Perception to notice threats: 9
Yeah... you can tell this place is creepy, that's about it.
Speaking of... you guys have about 3 hours of travel time on foot...
Hour 1: 82
Hour 2: 52
Hour 3: 40
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Interesting results indeed...
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(Worried the random dice rolls weren't ominous enough on their own? Don't worry, I assure you, they were! 😄)
You notice a short figure (5'3") walking towards you. The first word that comes to mind is 'Green'. You also notice a large object on his back, a very large great sword. As he approaches he shouts "Hail travelers. My name is Zander Goldleaf and I was sent here to aid you by his lordship Akkron to aid and if you see fit, join your party." He looks, "Bridgette.? is that you?"
D&D since 1984
Quite shorter, is the figure who first steps forward to greet the newcomer: "Of course she's Bridgette!" assures the gnome "And I'm Duwamilly 'Planerunner' Gerinell! Nice to meet you, Zander, honey!"
This female, which measures not much more than 3', has long straight honey-colored hair that should be styled in a bun on her head... but, perhaps because the gnome is almost always on the move, several long locks have actually escaped the rigor of the hairstyle and wander freely, some falling on the face, some on the shoulder straps of a metal scale armor. In her right hand she holds a wand similar to the one a teacher would use to point out things during a lesson and every now and then she waves it indifferently, perhaps unconsciously, from side to side.
“How kind of you to come to our aid!” the little creature exclaims, delighted "You will certainly be very useful to us, with that big sword you have... Everyone knows it: easiest way to win a debate is to have a sharp sword at the ready..." short pause for effect, after which she smiles "Everybody will agree you have a good point!"
Zander would see a stout, warrior-type man in the back of the group with a bold head and brown skin. The man would not look up but Zander could see that the man was very distressed. If Zander had any danger sense he would not move towards the man.
Bridgette flashes the stranger a smile.
"Yes Zander, it's me... right here, on the Shaded Isle where I happen to live. How's guard duty at my Master's keep going? You know, he usually leaves security in the hands of the undead, so you must have done something to impress him."
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
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"You know, Big flashy sword. Ooo every's impressed." He turns to his side as if speaking to someone.
He whispers "Shut up you hunk of tin. Yes, you are impressive. and Yes, you are the great sword. Oo." 2 hand wave in the air (sarcasm)
"It's nice to meet you all. This hunk of t... <cough> fine sword on my back is Snicker. Say hello."
You hear, from over his head, in a silvery and melodic tone, "Greetings people. It is I, the one, the only, Snicker Snack. Killer of Evil, vile, Dragons."
D&D since 1984
"Is it really you?" Duwamilly stands speechless for a few moments staring in fascination at the blade that has just spoken.
The ex-Preceptor then begins to recite from her memory, in admiration:
"One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back."
"Are you the sword that inspired the great gnome she-poet Lesla Carrowil to compose these verses? (*)" the gnome cleric approaches the weapon, as if she wanted to caress it but didn't dare "Very pleased to have met you too, as well as your bearer! As it happens, we might just have dragon problems in the near future... I really hope that you will stay with us!"
The party was travelling for about an hour and a half when Zander appeared to help lead you to the keep.
But as you continue, you get the uneasy feeling that something isn't quite right... perhaps it could just be that uneasy feeling of being watched by unseen spirits, but...
Everyone, make a Perception check against 18 (or use your Passive Perception score). If you succeed:
From the top of one of the nearby buildings, you see four winged creatures watching you with unfriendly expressions. They are roughly human-sized.
They somehow seem out of place, even in this land of the dead.
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
Provide feedback!
Perception: 7
Huddled under bright silk robes, a cobalt-skinned Tiefling with indigo hair sizes the newcomer up with her golden eyes and then casts a glance at the red-haired Half-Elf. She's short and slight, nearly a half foot shorter than Zander, and moves with a natural grace.
(The hair color is wrong, but otherwise...)