Your group has been travelling together for several days, escorting a merchant and his cart along the road from Waterdeep to Silverymoon. The dust of the road covers nearly everything you own and for the first time since you set out you find yourselves traveling alongside a wooded area, giving you a chance for some shade. This welcome respite from the growing summer heat has everyone feeling a bit better. As the sun sinks lower in the sky, your group sets up camp, falling into now familiar watch patterns.
The woods are quiet this night, and the air grows chill. Your fire sputters as a low mist gathers around the edges of your camp, growing closer as the night wears on. By morning, the fog hangs thick in the air, turning the trees around you into gray ghosts. Then you notice these aren’t the same tree that surrounded you the night before.
Arkanon Drel stood from where he was sleeping, still mostly in armour as he grabbed his pauldrons and began strapping them on. He was wearing a deep black surcoat with the outline of a cat on the center in cloth-of-gold surrounded by a golden circle; underneath was his bright chain mail, his shoulders protected with pauldrons, the one on the left larger than the right with a massive convex neck guard. Once he was done putting on his lobstered gauntlets he began tying his sword belt around his waist, and looked up to suddenly realize he didn't recognize at all where they were. The trees were different, a thick fog surrounding them; uneasy, he felt a trickle of nervousness beginning to creep into him, his stomach tightening as he grabbed the hilt of his blade. "Guys," he said looking around trying to discern anything he could see, "call me paranoid, but I think there's something wrong. I don't like this."
Perception check:10
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Rosamund Carpenter's eyes snapped open, waking up the instant Arkanon spoke. He too stood up, but his routine was much simpler, only reaching to grab his greatsword and his bow. His clothing was simple, just a pair of breeches and a cotton shirt. As he gets ready, his appearance once again strikes you all. His white hair was a strange contrast to his pitch black skin, seeming to almost glow in the sparse sunlight. His face was almost too beautiful, as if he had been a statue made by a master craftsman, and then turned into a human. His eyes seemed to change color as he scanned around camp, looking for any danger to the group.
Sitting up in his bedroll Milamber looks around at Arkanon's words and immediately realizes what he is saying to be true. "It appears you are correct, We were camped near a stand of Yew and now there are none in sight. I also believe there may be something unusual about this fog." At that Milamber reaches out with his inborn mystic senses to try and determine if there actually is anything magical to the fog or it's presence, his curiosity starting to grow.
(Arcana check: 21 )
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"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
As you all begin to search about, you feel your sense of uneasiness growing. The fog isn't exactly magical, but it isn't benign either. The longer you spend in it, the more you realize you feel sapped of all energy. Arkanon, as you don your armor, you feel like you've spent the last few hours in heavy labor.
That said, you don't see anything that is an immediate threat. You can make out an area with no fog that appears to be a crushed gravel road stretching off into the hazy gray light.
Muirdan clutches his hammer closer to his chest and murmurs a quiet prayer. Something about this fog makes sets his beard on end, but Dumathoin be damned if he was going to let the others know that.
Rosamund (Rosa) looks at the fog, and then looks at the gravel road. He says, "I don't like this one bit. That road is obviously bad, but staying in this energy draining fog is not an option. I say we go down the creepy path."
Sweat begins to drip down his face as his breathing quickens, the armour suddenly feeling very heavy. Closing his eyes, he reaches deep down into himself uttering a small prayer, casting Divine Sense and opens his eyes, noticing the gravel road. "I agree," he says, "this fog is ruinous. Merchant, get up, we have to move."
Rosa gets the merchants up, and tries to hurry them along so that the can get out of this fog quicker. "Come on, come on, do you need me to do something to hurry this up?" Without asking, Rosa attaches the horses to the cart quickly, trying to shorten the time this will take.
Reaching down, Arkanon grabs his shield and straps it to his arm, then wakes his retainer from his slumber whispering to him that they have to get a move on. He walks forward, loosening the sword in his scabbard and eventually makes it onto the gravel path, his gauntleted hands working the hilt of his blade in nervousness.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
As you delve into the mist to try getting the horses and merchants around, you find that they are no longer there. In fact, there are no tracks, no horses, no evidence that the merchants ever existed. Your gear is all present, regardless of where it was left last night. When you get onto the road, you find that the fog is entirely gone from your immediate vicinity. The area off the road is still heavily cloaked in the thick gray cloud. The sunlight, while bright enough to see comfortably by, is anything but bright. Everything seems muted, like a dreary winter day, but without the frigidity of that time of year.
The sky is full of rolling steel-gray thunderclouds, causing the muted light. All of the trees you were familiar with have been replaced by arrow-straight pine trees, though not as bright green as you are used to.
Arkanon, you don't pick up anything from your divine sense.
Tengen rises slowly, seemingly paying little attention to the others, the young woman, looking more a girl in truth despite the leather armour and the daggers in her boot tops, eventually begins to pick up on the strange things that have occured. Her voice small in the mists she says "It's wrong, there can't be no tracks what can have happened?"Checking her belongings are where she left them she shoulders her pack quickly after packing her bedding and grabs her crossbow and starts to scan the perimeter then pauses "It is like the colour has been sucked from the world..." With her spare hand she reaches to her throat where two chains hold different objects, one a holy symbol of Lathander with it's rising sun in rose gold the other an orb tied to the chain in a small wire net, touching both simultaneously.
On the road, he looks about with his jaws set and despite his divine sense not picking up on anything he still feels uneasy. Suddenly, the smell of ammonia wafts into his nose and he turns to see his retainer, Eron, behind him, a tall man with black hair and a young face and a chin strap. Arkanon frowns down at him, "you smell funny," he says then turns to the rest of the party. "Best we make a move on, I'd rather be out of here as quick as possible."
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Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Rosa silently agrees, and starts to head down the gravel road, anxious to get out of this creepy forest with the weird fog. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his large blade, ready to draw it at the first sign of trouble. He starts muttering to himself in Celestial, "Great, first there's a strength draining fog, then the merchant gets lost, what else could go wrong?"
"Ha! Don't tempt fate, who knows what else the day can bring yet, or the night for that matter..." Tengen replies in common but clearly understood the aasimar's speech. She begins to move as well but turns back to check the rest of the group are following.
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Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
You move along the road, the shapeless gray landscape moving by dully. Where the past ten-day has been full of the chirruping of summer bugs and the trill of songbirds, your new normal seems to be devoid of ambient creature sounds. Occasionally, you do hear the howl of a wolf far off in the distance. After what seems like a few hours, you see some tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness.
The gravel road leads to a village, its tall houses dark as tombstones. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. Even the tavern is shut tight. A soft whimpering draws your eyes toward a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. The smaller of the two children is weeping, clutching a stuffed doll. The taller of the two is attempting to shush the other.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Rosa immediately lets go of his hilt and goes towards the children, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. He kneels before them and asks the oldest, "What's wrong? Do you need help little ones?" He's looking around to see if their parents are nearby.
Walking into the village, a sudden wariness creeps into Arkanon as he sees the way the windows are shuttered against the thick fog, closed up tight. His head then snaps towards the children and a part of him wants to go and comfort them, ask why they're crying but he holds himself back knowing full well of what he is. The child might get even more frightened of his visage and see him as a monster, and perhaps make her worse. The need was suddenly taken up by Rosa, so instead, he looked back to the village a curious frown settling over his brow. "Not the welcoming type, these people," he said almost to himself as he started walking deeper, his hand now resting at his side. "I'll go see if the tavern is open, perhaps figure out where in the nine hells we ended up."
Your group has been travelling together for several days, escorting a merchant and his cart along the road from Waterdeep to Silverymoon. The dust of the road covers nearly everything you own and for the first time since you set out you find yourselves traveling alongside a wooded area, giving you a chance for some shade. This welcome respite from the growing summer heat has everyone feeling a bit better. As the sun sinks lower in the sky, your group sets up camp, falling into now familiar watch patterns.
The woods are quiet this night, and the air grows chill. Your fire sputters as a low mist gathers around the edges of your camp, growing closer as the night wears on. By morning, the fog hangs thick in the air, turning the trees around you into gray ghosts. Then you notice these aren’t the same tree that surrounded you the night before.
Arkanon Drel
Arkanon Drel stood from where he was sleeping, still mostly in armour as he grabbed his pauldrons and began strapping them on. He was wearing a deep black surcoat with the outline of a cat on the center in cloth-of-gold surrounded by a golden circle; underneath was his bright chain mail, his shoulders protected with pauldrons, the one on the left larger than the right with a massive convex neck guard. Once he was done putting on his lobstered gauntlets he began tying his sword belt around his waist, and looked up to suddenly realize he didn't recognize at all where they were. The trees were different, a thick fog surrounding them; uneasy, he felt a trickle of nervousness beginning to creep into him, his stomach tightening as he grabbed the hilt of his blade. "Guys," he said looking around trying to discern anything he could see, "call me paranoid, but I think there's something wrong. I don't like this."
Perception check: 10
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Rosamund Carpenter's eyes snapped open, waking up the instant Arkanon spoke. He too stood up, but his routine was much simpler, only reaching to grab his greatsword and his bow. His clothing was simple, just a pair of breeches and a cotton shirt. As he gets ready, his appearance once again strikes you all. His white hair was a strange contrast to his pitch black skin, seeming to almost glow in the sparse sunlight. His face was almost too beautiful, as if he had been a statue made by a master craftsman, and then turned into a human. His eyes seemed to change color as he scanned around camp, looking for any danger to the group.
Perception 7
Sitting up in his bedroll Milamber looks around at Arkanon's words and immediately realizes what he is saying to be true. "It appears you are correct, We were camped near a stand of Yew and now there are none in sight. I also believe there may be something unusual about this fog." At that Milamber reaches out with his inborn mystic senses to try and determine if there actually is anything magical to the fog or it's presence, his curiosity starting to grow.
(Arcana check: 21 )
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
As you all begin to search about, you feel your sense of uneasiness growing. The fog isn't exactly magical, but it isn't benign either. The longer you spend in it, the more you realize you feel sapped of all energy. Arkanon, as you don your armor, you feel like you've spent the last few hours in heavy labor.
That said, you don't see anything that is an immediate threat. You can make out an area with no fog that appears to be a crushed gravel road stretching off into the hazy gray light.
Muirdan clutches his hammer closer to his chest and murmurs a quiet prayer. Something about this fog makes sets his beard on end, but Dumathoin be damned if he was going to let the others know that.
Rosamund (Rosa) looks at the fog, and then looks at the gravel road. He says, "I don't like this one bit. That road is obviously bad, but staying in this energy draining fog is not an option. I say we go down the creepy path."
Sweat begins to drip down his face as his breathing quickens, the armour suddenly feeling very heavy. Closing his eyes, he reaches deep down into himself uttering a small prayer, casting Divine Sense and opens his eyes, noticing the gravel road. "I agree," he says, "this fog is ruinous. Merchant, get up, we have to move."
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
"Aye, pretty boy has the right of it," Muirdan grins. "To the path, I say!"
Gathering his things, Milamber climbs to his feet and starts towards the road. "It seems the best option. I do not like the feel of this fog at all"
"Lord Arunduil will bring death to us all"
Arutha Lvl.2 Human Fighter: Arsenal of the Orc Lord
Milamber Lvl.1 Human Sorcerer: Curse of Strahd
Masque: Lvl.5 Gith Cleric: Age of Death
DM: League of Improbable Adventurers: Chapter 1 of Arunduil's Bane
Rosa gets the merchants up, and tries to hurry them along so that the can get out of this fog quicker. "Come on, come on, do you need me to do something to hurry this up?" Without asking, Rosa attaches the horses to the cart quickly, trying to shorten the time this will take.
Reaching down, Arkanon grabs his shield and straps it to his arm, then wakes his retainer from his slumber whispering to him that they have to get a move on. He walks forward, loosening the sword in his scabbard and eventually makes it onto the gravel path, his gauntleted hands working the hilt of his blade in nervousness.
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
As you delve into the mist to try getting the horses and merchants around, you find that they are no longer there. In fact, there are no tracks, no horses, no evidence that the merchants ever existed. Your gear is all present, regardless of where it was left last night. When you get onto the road, you find that the fog is entirely gone from your immediate vicinity. The area off the road is still heavily cloaked in the thick gray cloud. The sunlight, while bright enough to see comfortably by, is anything but bright. Everything seems muted, like a dreary winter day, but without the frigidity of that time of year.
The sky is full of rolling steel-gray thunderclouds, causing the muted light. All of the trees you were familiar with have been replaced by arrow-straight pine trees, though not as bright green as you are used to.
Arkanon, you don't pick up anything from your divine sense.
Tengen rises slowly, seemingly paying little attention to the others, the young woman, looking more a girl in truth despite the leather armour and the daggers in her boot tops, eventually begins to pick up on the strange things that have occured. Her voice small in the mists she says "It's wrong, there can't be no tracks what can have happened?" Checking her belongings are where she left them she shoulders her pack quickly after packing her bedding and grabs her crossbow and starts to scan the perimeter then pauses "It is like the colour has been sucked from the world..." With her spare hand she reaches to her throat where two chains hold different objects, one a holy symbol of Lathander with it's rising sun in rose gold the other an orb tied to the chain in a small wire net, touching both simultaneously.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
On the road, he looks about with his jaws set and despite his divine sense not picking up on anything he still feels uneasy. Suddenly, the smell of ammonia wafts into his nose and he turns to see his retainer, Eron, behind him, a tall man with black hair and a young face and a chin strap. Arkanon frowns down at him, "you smell funny," he says then turns to the rest of the party. "Best we make a move on, I'd rather be out of here as quick as possible."
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court
Rosa silently agrees, and starts to head down the gravel road, anxious to get out of this creepy forest with the weird fog. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his large blade, ready to draw it at the first sign of trouble. He starts muttering to himself in Celestial, "Great, first there's a strength draining fog, then the merchant gets lost, what else could go wrong?"
"Ha! Don't tempt fate, who knows what else the day can bring yet, or the night for that matter..." Tengen replies in common but clearly understood the aasimar's speech. She begins to move as well but turns back to check the rest of the group are following.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
You move along the road, the shapeless gray landscape moving by dully. Where the past ten-day has been full of the chirruping of summer bugs and the trill of songbirds, your new normal seems to be devoid of ambient creature sounds. Occasionally, you do hear the howl of a wolf far off in the distance. After what seems like a few hours, you see some tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness.
The gravel road leads to a village, its tall houses dark as tombstones. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. Even the tavern is shut tight. A soft whimpering draws your eyes toward a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. The smaller of the two children is weeping, clutching a stuffed doll. The taller of the two is attempting to shush the other.
Rosa immediately lets go of his hilt and goes towards the children, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. He kneels before them and asks the oldest, "What's wrong? Do you need help little ones?" He's looking around to see if their parents are nearby.
Perception check 11
Walking into the village, a sudden wariness creeps into Arkanon as he sees the way the windows are shuttered against the thick fog, closed up tight. His head then snaps towards the children and a part of him wants to go and comfort them, ask why they're crying but he holds himself back knowing full well of what he is. The child might get even more frightened of his visage and see him as a monster, and perhaps make her worse. The need was suddenly taken up by Rosa, so instead, he looked back to the village a curious frown settling over his brow. "Not the welcoming type, these people," he said almost to himself as he started walking deeper, his hand now resting at his side. "I'll go see if the tavern is open, perhaps figure out where in the nine hells we ended up."
Othorion Sarfir - Half-Drow Eldritch Knight - The Murder Court