Alistair catches Billy's eye, a silent exchange that confirms their shared understanding. A twisted smile spreads across Alistair's face, his heart burning with a twisted anticipation for the kill. His heart, once capable of love and beauty, now burns only for his dark mistress, and the prospect of fulfilling her demands fills him with a perverse sense of satisfaction. Turning back to Flint, Alistair's voice takes on a chillingly ominous tone. "Don't worry, Flint," he says, his words laced with a cruel mockery, "Billy here will make sure those bindings don't hurt your wrists anymore." Alistair watches Flint closely, savoring the moment before the final act. His dark joy is palpable in the air. He had played his part, manipulated and coerced, all to serve the whims of his mistress. In that moment, the bard is lost, consumed by the darkness he has embraced.
I wouldn't have worried about it. I have no intention of needlessly dragging out a scene like this (or accidentally making it more terrible) because of some dice rolls.
Flint Lowater ends his days slumped forward on a dry creek bed in the foothills of the Northwall Mountains, far from the lands of his forefathers. There's a moment of silence as those who need to make peace with their consciences before facing the inevitable question of what to do next.
Zeke pulls out the map and spreads it out. “I don’t know why they always print these things upside down , but they do. Krog, you were the one who sorted this out last time, correct? Do you think this gap over here is what we should aim for?”
Krog will look at Zeke, "My apologies Zeke, I am not the sort to sort things out. But if you see something that looks like a "pass", then we can go and check it out."
There is no Midsummer pass on your map but there is a Highsummer Pass that appears to cut through the mountains and into the lands beyond. Along with the name there's a few lines of Elvish script, though anyone who reads Elvish will see it only as gibberish and made up words...
(History check to attempt to identify the writing, with advantage of your character speaks Elvish. History or Survival check to interpret the map)
The most direct route would be to traverse the foothills of the Northwall, keeping between the mountains and the forest. From here, it should only be three day's travel.
But thanks to Billy's Nat 20 extensive experience studying maps, he manages to find a route that exploits natural features (like the dry river bed you're currently standing on) to shorten your travel time by at least a half-day.
“You know something about this territory so how about you join me at point , Billy. Krog and Brocke usually follow with Alistair bringing up the rear and checking that nothing sneaks up on us from behind. Let’s see if we can rescue your friend.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Alistair squints at the map, frustration creasing his brow as he tries to decipher the swirling Elvish script. "Music was always my preferred language," he mutters, clenching his fist in momentary irritation. Perhaps there is another way, a code or familiar symbol Irecognize. He scans the map once more, his keen eyes searching for any details that might hold the key.
Alistair carefully examines the writing. While he's unable to make out any of the words he's fairly confident that the writing is Icathian, an ancient form of the common tongue.
There's no way this map could be that old. Plus all of the other writing is clearly in common. Perhaps someone copied an Icathian text onto the map from another source?
And then the pieces fall into place. Alistair remembers the end of one of the ancient Icathian stories, the tale of Certis Fidelis. He was considered the last great general of Icathian legions. It was said that he attempted to conquer the far north by finding a route through an impassible mountain range, never to be seen or heard from again...
Alistair's eyes gleam with a mixture of excitement and a hint of something darker. "This isn't Elvish," he declares, a thrill coursing through him. The discovery is exhilarating, a chance to unearth a long-lost secret. Perhaps even more importantly, it might offer a way to gain favor with Fierna. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a mixture of dread and anticipation. "It's Icathian!" he continues, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur as he addresses the group. "An ancient form of the common tongue, long thought to be lost." The realization sends a jolt through him. There is no way this map, clearly marked with recent landmarks, could be that old."Perhaps," he muses, "someone copied this Icathian text onto the map from another source?" With a triumphant snap of his fingers, the pieces fall into place. Alistair remembers the end of one of the ancient Icathian stories, the tale of Certis Fidelis. He turns to the others, his voice laced with urgency. "Certis Fidelis," he begins, "the last great general of the Icathian legions. Legend has it he attempted to conquer the far north by finding a route through an impassible mountain range. He vanished without a trace. Could this map..." he trails off, letting the implication hang heavy in the air, "...be the key to finding his lost path?" Alistair scans the faces of his companions, gauging their reactions. Are they as intrigued by the possibility as I am? Perhaps this map holds the key to something more than just a hidden passage. Perhaps it holds the key to power, a power that could serve my own purposes as well as my love, Fierna's. "An impenetrable mountain range," Alistair continues, a sly smile playing on his lips, "could make a fine place for a hidden stronghold, wouldn't you agree? And the Baron..." He pauses, letting the silence build. "Does the Baron have some tie to Fidelis, or perhaps something even older? This map just became a lot more interesting, wouldn't you say?"
Alistair catches Billy's eye, a silent exchange that confirms their shared understanding. A twisted smile spreads across Alistair's face, his heart burning with a twisted anticipation for the kill. His heart, once capable of love and beauty, now burns only for his dark mistress, and the prospect of fulfilling her demands fills him with a perverse sense of satisfaction. Turning back to Flint, Alistair's voice takes on a chillingly ominous tone. "Don't worry, Flint," he says, his words laced with a cruel mockery, "Billy here will make sure those bindings don't hurt your wrists anymore." Alistair watches Flint closely, savoring the moment before the final act. His dark joy is palpable in the air. He had played his part, manipulated and coerced, all to serve the whims of his mistress. In that moment, the bard is lost, consumed by the darkness he has embraced.
I wouldn't have worried about it. I have no intention of needlessly dragging out a scene like this (or accidentally making it more terrible) because of some dice rolls.
Flint Lowater ends his days slumped forward on a dry creek bed in the foothills of the Northwall Mountains, far from the lands of his forefathers. There's a moment of silence as those who need to make peace with their consciences before facing the inevitable question of what to do next.
KROG will look at Billy, "There may be some justice in that. But thanks."
The party will take anything of value, giving the tabard to Alistair.
"Let's head on to this Crypt," KROG will say.
Brockes spits angrily at the ground. Mutters a bit as he turns around and walks away.
"Wait I need to rescue my friend from there camp. I'm sure he would prove useful."
KROG will look at Billy, "Right, good Dwarf, we need to rescue your friend. Do you know where we need to go?"
"I believe Flint told us he was being held at the west camp, over near Midsummer pass."
(Do I or anyone else know where Midsummer Pass is?)
Zeke pulls out the map and spreads it out. “I don’t know why they always print these things upside down , but they do. Krog, you were the one who sorted this out last time, correct? Do you think this gap over here is what we should aim for?”
Krog will look at Zeke, "My apologies Zeke, I am not the sort to sort things out. But if you see something that looks like a "pass", then we can go and check it out."
There is no Midsummer pass on your map but there is a Highsummer Pass that appears to cut through the mountains and into the lands beyond. Along with the name there's a few lines of Elvish script, though anyone who reads Elvish will see it only as gibberish and made up words...
(History check to attempt to identify the writing, with advantage of your character speaks Elvish. History or Survival check to interpret the map)
History = Natural 20 = 22
(To decipher the writing or figure out how to get there from here on the map?)
How to get there.
The most direct route would be to traverse the foothills of the Northwall, keeping between the mountains and the forest. From here, it should only be three day's travel.
But thanks to Billy's
Nat 20extensive experience studying maps, he manages to find a route that exploits natural features (like the dry river bed you're currently standing on) to shorten your travel time by at least a half-day.“You know something about this territory so how about you join me at point , Billy. Krog and Brocke usually follow with Alistair bringing up the rear and checking that nothing sneaks up on us from behind. Let’s see if we can rescue your friend.”
"Sounds good let's go. And thank you all."
Alistair squints at the map, frustration creasing his brow as he tries to decipher the swirling Elvish script. "Music was always my preferred language," he mutters, clenching his fist in momentary irritation. Perhaps there is another way, a code or familiar symbol I recognize. He scans the map once more, his keen eyes searching for any details that might hold the key.
History using Inspiration 14
Alistair carefully examines the writing. While he's unable to make out any of the words he's fairly confident that the writing is Icathian, an ancient form of the common tongue.
There's no way this map could be that old. Plus all of the other writing is clearly in common. Perhaps someone copied an Icathian text onto the map from another source?
And then the pieces fall into place. Alistair remembers the end of one of the ancient Icathian stories, the tale of Certis Fidelis. He was considered the last great general of Icathian legions. It was said that he attempted to conquer the far north by finding a route through an impassible mountain range, never to be seen or heard from again...
Alistair's eyes gleam with a mixture of excitement and a hint of something darker. "This isn't Elvish," he declares, a thrill coursing through him. The discovery is exhilarating, a chance to unearth a long-lost secret. Perhaps even more importantly, it might offer a way to gain favor with Fierna. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a mixture of dread and anticipation. "It's Icathian!" he continues, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur as he addresses the group. "An ancient form of the common tongue, long thought to be lost." The realization sends a jolt through him. There is no way this map, clearly marked with recent landmarks, could be that old. "Perhaps," he muses, "someone copied this Icathian text onto the map from another source?" With a triumphant snap of his fingers, the pieces fall into place. Alistair remembers the end of one of the ancient Icathian stories, the tale of Certis Fidelis. He turns to the others, his voice laced with urgency. "Certis Fidelis," he begins, "the last great general of the Icathian legions. Legend has it he attempted to conquer the far north by finding a route through an impassible mountain range. He vanished without a trace. Could this map..." he trails off, letting the implication hang heavy in the air, "...be the key to finding his lost path?" Alistair scans the faces of his companions, gauging their reactions. Are they as intrigued by the possibility as I am? Perhaps this map holds the key to something more than just a hidden passage. Perhaps it holds the key to power, a power that could serve my own purposes as well as my love, Fierna's. "An impenetrable mountain range," Alistair continues, a sly smile playing on his lips, "could make a fine place for a hidden stronghold, wouldn't you agree? And the Baron..." He pauses, letting the silence build. "Does the Baron have some tie to Fidelis, or perhaps something even older? This map just became a lot more interesting, wouldn't you say?"
"We may find more at the camp. Shall we go?"