"A bad dream, was it?" Monar growls as they all return to consciousness. "Can't say I ever saw a dream do that to folk, unless their nightmare was kinda real and putting fists in their faces." He ponders this a moment, then shuts his eyes and concentrates. His eyes bore into Eldeth. "Treacle will summon 'em all, you said at the end there. Care to tell us what that means?"
OOC: using another divine sense to see if there are any celestials or fiends around - shutting the stable door a bit after the horse has bolted, but worth checking to see if something is interring.
As he takes part in breaking camp, Szefarian sets to making a mental list of what price the other escapees might fetch if the opportunity were to arise...
Sarith is by far the most valuable (500 - 800 gps) Eldeth (300 - 500 gps) Jimjar and Buppido (200 - 250 gps) Treacle and Tarnstrak seem slightly off for some reason, being unusually wiry and jittery for svirfneblin (100 - 200 gps) Assessing Stool's worth is a bit tricky because Szefarian has no familiarity with myconids being bought and sold (but its rapport spores ability might be of worth to the right buyer)
Monar assesses the situation in a slightly different manner, calling up the divine and hoping to learn something about what befell the others. He detects nothing, however. Eldeth answers his question, and she seems in earnest as she does so. "Demons. Treacle will summon the demon lords: Demogorgon...Jubilex...Graz'zt...Baphomet. That is what I dreamed. It seems absurd, but it seemed so real."
"We are weary. We are thirsty. We flee our captors. We sleep poorly. We eat fungus. Many of us are complete foreigners to the Underdark. Should we expect clarity of mind?" muses Sarith. "Let us go from this place."
Eldethcalls over to Treacle. "Forgive me. I was not myself. Someone please take these."
The dwarf scout then draws both shortswords from their sheathes and sets them upon the cavern floor, indicating that she is surrendering the blades so someone else might carry them.
With the group's collective knowledge of medicine, history, nature, and arcana, a few different explanations for the bizarre behavior are posited:
The psychological and physical strain of the past few days is beginning to take its toll, especially on those with a less resilient constitution.
The drow of Velkynvelve managed to poison the prisoners before they escaped, and the bad dreams are one of the side effects.
The party has been cursed by something (the drow, the vrock, or someone within the party itself).
Some unseen evil, possibly a hag of some sort, visited the cavern during the resting period and is playing mind games with some of the prisoners.
The slain vrock and chasme are evidence of active demonic activity in this area, and that activity is negatively influencing any who come into contact with it.
Thirty minutes after the episode with Eldeth, the party exits the cavern and descends the narrow passageway that continues to lead westward. Everyone now carries a few pounds of ripplebark; so, there's no concern about going hungry in the near future. The need for water has become just as important as the need to avoid the drow pursuers. The party maintains its increased pace, hoping several more hours of brisk movement will ensure their escape from the drow. For multiple hours, there is crouching through small passageways, climbing and descending a variety of inclines, and stopping only briefly for a bit of food and water (which is nearly depleted now).
The first real decision to be made on this second day of travel is a sheer drop into utter darkness below. Monar stands at the edge of what appears to be a vertical shaft that descends deep into the rock below.
Szefarian's words are curt, but they're not directed at anyone in particular. "Marvelous. Well, now what?" He scans the sheer face for trouble, though he's none too eager to join the bugbear at the edge of such a sudden drop to get a real good look.
Right before heading out of the cavern, Zilly stands on a large Ripplebark mushroom, “Excuse me, listen up! We are almost at the Darklake. We have food, we will certainly have some water soon. We have blades and armor. We are almost free! ... ” and he casts Minor Illusion directly in front of him, the sounds of clapping and cheering can be heard.
Varis steps up next to Monar and kicks a loose rock over the edge, peering down and trying to follow it as it plummets through the darkness and listening for it to strike bottom. “I have 100 feet of rope from the Drow armory, but will it be enough? Is there another way round that we missed.?” He looks around for other passages or trails that may skirt the drop off.
"I have some rope as well. We can tie them together and see if they reach the bottom." Monar gets down on his belly and peers over the edge into the darkness below. "Only problem with that is we lose the rope if we go down." He sighs. "We ain't got much choice, though." He pulls out the rope and offers it to Varis. "Lets see how deep this is then."
Perception Check: 3 (passive 11)
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"A bad dream, was it?" Monar growls as they all return to consciousness. "Can't say I ever saw a dream do that to folk, unless their nightmare was kinda real and putting fists in their faces." He ponders this a moment, then shuts his eyes and concentrates. His eyes bore into Eldeth. "Treacle will summon 'em all, you said at the end there. Care to tell us what that means?"
OOC: using another divine sense to see if there are any celestials or fiends around - shutting the stable door a bit after the horse has bolted, but worth checking to see if something is interring.
As he takes part in breaking camp, Szefarian sets to making a mental list of what price the other escapees might fetch if the opportunity were to arise...
Sarith is by far the most valuable (500 - 800 gps)
Eldeth (300 - 500 gps)
Jimjar and Buppido (200 - 250 gps)
Treacle and Tarnstrak seem slightly off for some reason, being unusually wiry and jittery for svirfneblin (100 - 200 gps)
Assessing Stool's worth is a bit tricky because Szefarian has no familiarity with myconids being bought and sold (but its rapport spores ability might be of worth to the right buyer)
Monar assesses the situation in a slightly different manner, calling up the divine and hoping to learn something about what befell the others. He detects nothing, however. Eldeth answers his question, and she seems in earnest as she does so. "Demons. Treacle will summon the demon lords: Demogorgon...Jubilex...Graz'zt...Baphomet. That is what I dreamed. It seems absurd, but it seemed so real."
"We are weary. We are thirsty. We flee our captors. We sleep poorly. We eat fungus. Many of us are complete foreigners to the Underdark. Should we expect clarity of mind?" muses Sarith. "Let us go from this place."
Eldeth calls over to Treacle. "Forgive me. I was not myself. Someone please take these."
The dwarf scout then draws both shortswords from their sheathes and sets them upon the cavern floor, indicating that she is surrendering the blades so someone else might carry them.
With the group's collective knowledge of medicine, history, nature, and arcana, a few different explanations for the bizarre behavior are posited:
Thirty minutes after the episode with Eldeth, the party exits the cavern and descends the narrow passageway that continues to lead westward. Everyone now carries a few pounds of ripplebark; so, there's no concern about going hungry in the near future. The need for water has become just as important as the need to avoid the drow pursuers. The party maintains its increased pace, hoping several more hours of brisk movement will ensure their escape from the drow. For multiple hours, there is crouching through small passageways, climbing and descending a variety of inclines, and stopping only briefly for a bit of food and water (which is nearly depleted now).
The first real decision to be made on this second day of travel is a sheer drop into utter darkness below. Monar stands at the edge of what appears to be a vertical shaft that descends deep into the rock below.
Szefarian's words are curt, but they're not directed at anyone in particular. "Marvelous. Well, now what?" He scans the sheer face for trouble, though he's none too eager to join the bugbear at the edge of such a sudden drop to get a real good look.
[Perception: 9]
Right before heading out of the cavern, Zilly stands on a large Ripplebark mushroom, “Excuse me, listen up! We are almost at the Darklake. We have food, we will certainly have some water soon. We have blades and armor. We are almost free! ... ” and he casts Minor Illusion directly in front of him, the sounds of clapping and cheering can be heard.
Inspiring Leader, 5 temp HPs: Zilly, Monar, Varis, Szefarian, Sarith, Treacle.
Varis steps up next to Monar and kicks a loose rock over the edge, peering down and trying to follow it as it plummets through the darkness and listening for it to strike bottom. “I have 100 feet of rope from the Drow armory, but will it be enough? Is there another way round that we missed.?” He looks around for other passages or trails that may skirt the drop off.
Perception: 19.
"I have some rope as well. We can tie them together and see if they reach the bottom." Monar gets down on his belly and peers over the edge into the darkness below. "Only problem with that is we lose the rope if we go down." He sighs. "We ain't got much choice, though." He pulls out the rope and offers it to Varis. "Lets see how deep this is then."
Perception Check: 3 (passive 11)