This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Neya, concerned about the ramifications, tries to send some arcane feelers out to see if a certain individual has been keeping tabs on the group since the trip to the Quivering Forest.
Startled from his thoughts as was by handover of the wheel, Doozey looked up afterwards in bewilderment at Utar. Yet while questions quested to find purchase on stoutling lips' in hopes of being voiced, ultimately... none of it could sway the heart. So with a sigh defeat, Doozey bowed his head, closed his eyes, and waited patiently to see whatever came of the blessing...
(OOC: Holding off on Doozey's answer to see what comes at least out of the initial casting of the spell.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Utar performs his praying wheel ritual for about a minute, even though it all looks to develop in slow motion. The Tormite is visually straining while casting his spell and, although he does not feel exhausted by the end of it, it is plain to see that a lot of divine energy had to be pumped through in order to make this attempt happen.
Worried about who might be watching, Neya closes her eyes and focuses on what some would call an arcane intuition of sorts. She arrives at the impression that there are, indeed, two powerful magical sources in contention here. One is the just warmth of Torm, which she has grown accustomed to over her career alongside Utar. The other is ancient and dark, arcane and twisted, and it undoubtedly belongs to the hag that spawned the deal with Doozey.
Doozey feels warmth inside his mouth. It starts pleasant, but it soon grows into a burning sensation, reminding him of the red-hot but painless knife used for the original tongue-severing ritual as if the pain of that moment had been postponed until this moment right now. The regenerative process is not immediate, and the next two minutes feel like an eternity to the tireless halfling. A tongue slowly regrows behind Doozey's teeth, although it is one that does not feel familiar. Its dimensions are just a bit off, its coloration doesn't match that of the original stub it grew out of, and the mouthfeel is just... unusual.
@Doozey: You have regrown a fully functional tongue. You may speak normally againbut have acquired a few quirks:
1) This tongue belonged to someone else: You have lost the ability to speak either Halfling or Draconic (your choice) and instead gained the ability to speak one of the following languages: Dwarvish, Elvish, Giant, Gnomish, or Orcish (your choice) Please make the change in you "Languages" feature under the "Species" tab in the character editor.
2) You have acquired a faint accent, small speaking quirk, or barely noticeable lisp (your choice).
3) The small penalty to your healing spells which we had previously agreed on remains.
(OOC: I'll soon edit the homebrew feat "Jenny Greenteeth's Deal - Speech" to add these details so that we don't forget. Please make your choices.)
Doozey's initial reaction is one of visible relief before his face quickly contorted into one of confusion, worry, and then finally his eyes snap open to stare at Utar with a mixture of dawning horror. "Wha-! Wha have you-"The rest dies in his throat as a desire to growl, no, to scream tried to claw its way out. Yet instinctively Doozey clutched the disk tighter, clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut to tune out the pain.
Sensing his brother's pain, Biscuit came rushing out the kitchen and with little effort threw his upper half on the table, nearly shifting it out of place. Plaintive whines and gentle nudges by nose avail the beast not, so eventually he turned to look at the others with an air of worry and confusion about him. But with most occupied in some way or another Biscuit eventually settled for hovering close by and carefully watching the hunter. A hunter that seemed all but completely blind and deaf to the world for at least the next few short minutes.
But eventually, the pain did begin to... well, not quite completely fade away, but grew tolerable enough for the at that point sweating halfling to relax his hold and drop the disk. Though his hand would continue to faintly tremble for a time. A few steadying breaths and then Doozey open his eyes to see his nails had grown from nearly transforming. But any concern is dismissed with but a thought in favor of tentatively rolling his tongue in his mouth before finally opening it wide enough to touch it. In that moment the group sees not a restored halfling tongue, if albeit red raw looking from being freshly made, but instead a far more svelte one... like that of an elf's tongue.
"Yep, that's, uh, that there's definitely, uhh..."Doozey trails off into a sigh. "Well, after that excruciatingly painful experience -- Which was just about if not worse than that one time I nearly died a year ago, I think I'm quite wide awake now!" He tersely admits with a slight southern/country twang now to his voice, filling the air with the scent of honey with almost every breath, then gave Utar a flat look. "As for you, I.... I...."Doozey paused and looked both conflicted and uncertain for a moment, before turning away sharply. "...We goin' have words later, Mr. Utar. But right now, we running as late as is." With that, he hops out of his seat, barking out a command to Biscuit to go grab his "tankard" from the room. But Doozey otherwise slings on his pack and marches right on outside without another word or a glance back at the others. Those with sharp enough ears hear him mutter complaints about now having a taste for something sweet.
Raist makes another mug of tea and slides some of the food towards Utar. "That was well met my friend. Now take some nourishment. Higher magiks can be draining"
It takes some time for Doozey to come to terms with and fully understand what has just happened. Although his voice is his own again, the words that come out of the hunter's mouth sound like they belong to someone else... not in meaning or intention, but certainly in inflection, pronunciation, and enunciation.
Hearing Doozey speak the Common language in clear speech is certainly a mark of success for Utar's first ever casting of such a high level divine spell, but the halfling may still reserve some words for his orcish friend when the time permits.
Noticing that Utar himself may be in need of some quick replenishment, Raist offers the cleric some extra tea and food.
The party lets their nerves settle for a moment longer but, by now, they are certainly late for their meeting with Braden.
Hearing Doozey speak again sets Utar's concerns to rest; the spell worked! That hag's terrible price was paid but now Doozey is whole again.
Although did Doozey always sound like that? Utar supposes Jenny o' the Woods' influence might not be wholly defeated, still, his friend is, more or less, sort of, restored.
Taking the offered tea, Utar takes a deep breath, then a deep draught. "Mmm pleasant. I'll take another cup..."
He then recalls Doozey's words of urgency. "Once we get back."
With the party sighing a sigh of relief and grabbing a handful of fruit for the road, they depart from their headquarters and toward the city stables. This is a place every CRAper has visited before, so there is no doubt in the path needed to take to minimize the time of arrival.
As you advance, you notice that the situation in Phlan has not gotten any better. Many citizens are out and about but there is not much activity going on. Shops are closed, dockworkers are idle, and folks on the street are focusing more on complaining than anything else. The Black Fist has tightened its grip on the city, rooting out any signs of insurgency at mere suspicion. One bright spot is found at the bazaar, where giant toad meat is being sold in a portioned out manner to families willing to try the somewhat unconventional source of protein.
Braden spots you at a distance and waves energetically. "I was a bit worried you wouldn't show up,"he says with relief in his voice. "I have used the extra time wisely, though. A deal has been agreed upon with the stables. Four riding horses have been rented out for up to three days, just in case you need some extra time. Please try to return the animals within that time or I shall be charged for a full purchase, and these riding horses do not come cheap. They are already saddled and can carry your packs for you as well. For each horse, a bit, a bridle, and reins are also provided. The one thing I wasn't able to negotiate for was barding. I'm afraid that, should you feel the need for this extra layer of protection for the animals, you'll need to pay for that separately."
Raist looks at the horses then at the merchant. Reaching into two separate pockets he pulls out 15gp and a piece of paper.
"If you wouldn't mind acting as my intermediary On a matter. He hands the merchant the paper. I need this made or purchased to the dimensions written. (The paper is the drawing of the miniature door" it needs to be of materials worth 15 gold minimum, but doesn't matter the type so wood, metal, or crystal. Any would do." He hands the merchant 15gp
Beyond responding to Braden's wave with a respectful nod, Doozey otherwise remained as steadfastly silent afterwards as he did throughout the journey to the stable itself. Though he would raise a brow at Raist's request of the man, any notion of questioning it is immediately dismissed with a tired headshake as Doozey focused on Biscuit, and making sure the beast's own saddle and gear had been actually properly seen to after the group's rush to the stables.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Oh..." Braden seems surprised by Raist's request. "Well... hmm... as any merchant worth their salt, I do have a reliable network of suppliers in town. I can think of a woodworker or two who wouldn't say no to an extra fifteen golden coins, as unusual as the request might be." He leaves his hands open after collecting the 15gp from Raist and he clears his throat. "Of course, as your appointed purveyor..." he moves his open hand slightly, as if requesting something. "Also, what were you hoping in terms of timing? Would it be alright to have done by the time you come back?"
The sniff of a deal-nearly-made is enough to make Braden forget about CRAP being somewhat late to their meeting. He doesn't seem bothered by it and lets Utar know with a polite smile.
It is then that Braden catches a glimpse of Biscuit. "Right," he says. "I guess you may need only three horses after all. Good, good. I'll let the stable-master know and collect some of the fee I paid back. Feel free to pick your horses in the meantime."
(OOC: For those of you riding a rental horse, please go ahead and describe the horses you pick as your companion. If it helps getting creative, they are riding horses. The first image in the 2014 illustration, the second one is the 2024 illustration.)
Raist hands Braden another gold. "As soon as possible of course. If it's not til we come back so be it. I'll send Sebastian daily to check" turning away Raist picks a smoke Grey mare with abasic saddle.
Utar heads towards something that looks more like a shire horse that would work a farm rather than a destrier meant for battlefields and war. Just as well given the lack of barding but Utar senses something gentle in the horse's manner that pleases him. Extending a hand, his gives its nose a rub, noting a patch of black on its forehead and fetlock while the rest of the beast's body is a solid chestnut. "You take care of me and I'll take care of you. I'll bring you home safe."
(OOC - Do the horsies already have names or do we get to name them?)
While Biscuit was one to give an excitable "Boof" of confirmation to Braden, Doozey merely nodded after snapping out of some comical imaginings of both him and Biscuit trying to ride a horse. If it didn't seem Braden would depart until the group had then Doozey would continue to play the silent card and be patient. But once the group were out of ear/eyeshot eventually, he finally asks bluntly, "So, setting out right away, or do we still got business with Mr. Utar's girlfriend in the keep? Which I still don't know 'xactly how we might go about that one, but still. Ain't like we got an exact timing on that other thing we 'spose to get up to 'n all that."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Neya approaches a black, white-speckled horse. As she comes from the side, so it knows she's there, she extends a hand to pet its head. When she touches it, the horse pushes slightly against her hand. A sign of encouragement?
Braden looks a bit disappointed at receiving only one extra coin from Raist but quickly recovers his poise. "Very well. I shall impart on the artisan the rush of your request. I now wish you the best of luck as you move onward on your quest. I shall excuse myself and see to mine." With an elegant bow, Braden Yil leaves CRAP at the stables, trusting we'll soon see you all again.
Mounts selected and properly introduced, CRAP delays no longer. Or at least that is one option. Before all CRAPers are mounted on their rented horses or mastiff brothers, Doozey asks the group, or perhaps Utar more directly, whether this is the time to try to reach out to Captain Aleyd Burral of the Black Fist. Sebastian had previously been recruited for the task, so Raist also has a say on the matter.
Neya, concerned about the ramifications, tries to send some arcane feelers out to see if a certain individual has been keeping tabs on the group since the trip to the Quivering Forest.
Arcana: 13
Extended Signature
Startled from his thoughts as was by handover of the wheel, Doozey looked up afterwards in bewilderment at Utar. Yet while questions quested to find purchase on stoutling lips' in hopes of being voiced, ultimately... none of it could sway the heart. So with a sigh defeat, Doozey bowed his head, closed his eyes, and waited patiently to see whatever came of the blessing...
(OOC: Holding off on Doozey's answer to see what comes at least out of the initial casting of the spell.)
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
(@MB: Awesomely described. Inspiration to you!)
Utar performs his praying wheel ritual for about a minute, even though it all looks to develop in slow motion. The Tormite is visually straining while casting his spell and, although he does not feel exhausted by the end of it, it is plain to see that a lot of divine energy had to be pumped through in order to make this attempt happen.
Worried about who might be watching, Neya closes her eyes and focuses on what some would call an arcane intuition of sorts. She arrives at the impression that there are, indeed, two powerful magical sources in contention here. One is the just warmth of Torm, which she has grown accustomed to over her career alongside Utar. The other is ancient and dark, arcane and twisted, and it undoubtedly belongs to the hag that spawned the deal with Doozey.
Doozey feels warmth inside his mouth. It starts pleasant, but it soon grows into a burning sensation, reminding him of the red-hot but painless knife used for the original tongue-severing ritual as if the pain of that moment had been postponed until this moment right now. The regenerative process is not immediate, and the next two minutes feel like an eternity to the tireless halfling. A tongue slowly regrows behind Doozey's teeth, although it is one that does not feel familiar. Its dimensions are just a bit off, its coloration doesn't match that of the original stub it grew out of, and the mouthfeel is just... unusual.
@Doozey: You have regrown a fully functional tongue. You may speak normally again but have acquired a few quirks:
1) This tongue belonged to someone else: You have lost the ability to speak either Halfling or Draconic (your choice) and instead gained the ability to speak one of the following languages: Dwarvish, Elvish, Giant, Gnomish, or Orcish (your choice) Please make the change in you "Languages" feature under the "Species" tab in the character editor.
2) You have acquired a faint accent, small speaking quirk, or barely noticeable lisp (your choice).
3) The small penalty to your healing spells which we had previously agreed on remains.
(OOC: I'll soon edit the homebrew feat "Jenny Greenteeth's Deal - Speech" to add these details so that we don't forget. Please make your choices.)
Utar holds his breath, waiting for Doozey to say something...
Doozey's initial reaction is one of visible relief before his face quickly contorted into one of confusion, worry, and then finally his eyes snap open to stare at Utar with a mixture of dawning horror. "Wha-! Wha have you-" The rest dies in his throat as a desire to growl, no, to scream tried to claw its way out. Yet instinctively Doozey clutched the disk tighter, clenched his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut to tune out the pain.
Sensing his brother's pain, Biscuit came rushing out the kitchen and with little effort threw his upper half on the table, nearly shifting it out of place. Plaintive whines and gentle nudges by nose avail the beast not, so eventually he turned to look at the others with an air of worry and confusion about him. But with most occupied in some way or another Biscuit eventually settled for hovering close by and carefully watching the hunter. A hunter that seemed all but completely blind and deaf to the world for at least the next few short minutes.
But eventually, the pain did begin to... well, not quite completely fade away, but grew tolerable enough for the at that point sweating halfling to relax his hold and drop the disk. Though his hand would continue to faintly tremble for a time. A few steadying breaths and then Doozey open his eyes to see his nails had grown from nearly transforming. But any concern is dismissed with but a thought in favor of tentatively rolling his tongue in his mouth before finally opening it wide enough to touch it. In that moment the group sees not a restored halfling tongue, if albeit red raw looking from being freshly made, but instead a far more svelte one... like that of an elf's tongue.
"Yep, that's, uh, that there's definitely, uhh..." Doozey trails off into a sigh. "Well, after that excruciatingly painful experience -- Which was just about if not worse than that one time I nearly died a year ago, I think I'm quite wide awake now!" He tersely admits with a slight southern/country twang now to his voice, filling the air with the scent of honey with almost every breath, then gave Utar a flat look. "As for you, I.... I...." Doozey paused and looked both conflicted and uncertain for a moment, before turning away sharply. "...We goin' have words later, Mr. Utar. But right now, we running as late as is." With that, he hops out of his seat, barking out a command to Biscuit to go grab his "tankard" from the room. But Doozey otherwise slings on his pack and marches right on outside without another word or a glance back at the others. Those with sharp enough ears hear him mutter complaints about now having a taste for something sweet.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Raist makes another mug of tea and slides some of the food towards Utar. "That was well met my friend. Now take some nourishment. Higher magiks can be draining"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
It takes some time for Doozey to come to terms with and fully understand what has just happened. Although his voice is his own again, the words that come out of the hunter's mouth sound like they belong to someone else... not in meaning or intention, but certainly in inflection, pronunciation, and enunciation.
Hearing Doozey speak the Common language in clear speech is certainly a mark of success for Utar's first ever casting of such a high level divine spell, but the halfling may still reserve some words for his orcish friend when the time permits.
Noticing that Utar himself may be in need of some quick replenishment, Raist offers the cleric some extra tea and food.
The party lets their nerves settle for a moment longer but, by now, they are certainly late for their meeting with Braden.
"You don't necessarily need to drink the tea Utar just inhale. It's a mixture of clove, cinnamon and other druidic herbs"
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Hearing Doozey speak again sets Utar's concerns to rest; the spell worked! That hag's terrible price was paid but now Doozey is whole again.
Although did Doozey always sound like that? Utar supposes Jenny o' the Woods' influence might not be wholly defeated, still, his friend is, more or less, sort of, restored.
Taking the offered tea, Utar takes a deep breath, then a deep draught. "Mmm pleasant. I'll take another cup..."
He then recalls Doozey's words of urgency. "Once we get back."
Neya can't help but be happy for Doozey's recovery, care of Utar. Accompanied by a slight twinge of confusion, due to his complete change in accent.
After Doozey reminds them of their time constraint, she grabs one more piece of fruit for the road.
Extended Signature
With the party sighing a sigh of relief and grabbing a handful of fruit for the road, they depart from their headquarters and toward the city stables. This is a place every CRAper has visited before, so there is no doubt in the path needed to take to minimize the time of arrival.
As you advance, you notice that the situation in Phlan has not gotten any better. Many citizens are out and about but there is not much activity going on. Shops are closed, dockworkers are idle, and folks on the street are focusing more on complaining than anything else. The Black Fist has tightened its grip on the city, rooting out any signs of insurgency at mere suspicion. One bright spot is found at the bazaar, where giant toad meat is being sold in a portioned out manner to families willing to try the somewhat unconventional source of protein.
Braden spots you at a distance and waves energetically. "I was a bit worried you wouldn't show up," he says with relief in his voice. "I have used the extra time wisely, though. A deal has been agreed upon with the stables. Four riding horses have been rented out for up to three days, just in case you need some extra time. Please try to return the animals within that time or I shall be charged for a full purchase, and these riding horses do not come cheap. They are already saddled and can carry your packs for you as well. For each horse, a bit, a bridle, and reins are also provided. The one thing I wasn't able to negotiate for was barding. I'm afraid that, should you feel the need for this extra layer of protection for the animals, you'll need to pay for that separately."
Raist looks at the horses then at the merchant. Reaching into two separate pockets he pulls out 15gp and a piece of paper.
"If you wouldn't mind acting as my intermediary On a matter. He hands the merchant the paper. I need this made or purchased to the dimensions written. (The paper is the drawing of the miniature door" it needs to be of materials worth 15 gold minimum, but doesn't matter the type so wood, metal, or crystal. Any would do." He hands the merchant 15gp
Laissez les bons temps rouler
"You have my thanks Braden. Apologies for our late arrival, I am afraid that it is my fault."
Beyond responding to Braden's wave with a respectful nod, Doozey otherwise remained as steadfastly silent afterwards as he did throughout the journey to the stable itself. Though he would raise a brow at Raist's request of the man, any notion of questioning it is immediately dismissed with a tired headshake as Doozey focused on Biscuit, and making sure the beast's own saddle and gear had been actually properly seen to after the group's rush to the stables.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Oh..." Braden seems surprised by Raist's request. "Well... hmm... as any merchant worth their salt, I do have a reliable network of suppliers in town. I can think of a woodworker or two who wouldn't say no to an extra fifteen golden coins, as unusual as the request might be." He leaves his hands open after collecting the 15gp from Raist and he clears his throat. "Of course, as your appointed purveyor..." he moves his open hand slightly, as if requesting something. "Also, what were you hoping in terms of timing? Would it be alright to have done by the time you come back?"
The sniff of a deal-nearly-made is enough to make Braden forget about CRAP being somewhat late to their meeting. He doesn't seem bothered by it and lets Utar know with a polite smile.
It is then that Braden catches a glimpse of Biscuit. "Right," he says. "I guess you may need only three horses after all. Good, good. I'll let the stable-master know and collect some of the fee I paid back. Feel free to pick your horses in the meantime."
(OOC: For those of you riding a rental horse, please go ahead and describe the horses you pick as your companion. If it helps getting creative, they are riding horses. The first image in the 2014 illustration, the second one is the 2024 illustration.)
Raist hands Braden another gold. "As soon as possible of course. If it's not til we come back so be it. I'll send Sebastian daily to check" turning away Raist picks a smoke Grey mare with abasic saddle.
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Utar heads towards something that looks more like a shire horse that would work a farm rather than a destrier meant for battlefields and war. Just as well given the lack of barding but Utar senses something gentle in the horse's manner that pleases him. Extending a hand, his gives its nose a rub, noting a patch of black on its forehead and fetlock while the rest of the beast's body is a solid chestnut. "You take care of me and I'll take care of you. I'll bring you home safe."
(OOC - Do the horsies already have names or do we get to name them?)
While Biscuit was one to give an excitable "Boof" of confirmation to Braden, Doozey merely nodded after snapping out of some comical imaginings of both him and Biscuit trying to ride a horse. If it didn't seem Braden would depart until the group had then Doozey would continue to play the silent card and be patient. But once the group were out of ear/eyeshot eventually, he finally asks bluntly, "So, setting out right away, or do we still got business with Mr. Utar's girlfriend in the keep? Which I still don't know 'xactly how we might go about that one, but still. Ain't like we got an exact timing on that other thing we 'spose to get up to 'n all that."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Neya approaches a black, white-speckled horse. As she comes from the side, so it knows she's there, she extends a hand to pet its head. When she touches it, the horse pushes slightly against her hand. A sign of encouragement?
"Heh. Didn't take much to convince you..."
Extended Signature
Braden looks a bit disappointed at receiving only one extra coin from Raist but quickly recovers his poise. "Very well. I shall impart on the artisan the rush of your request. I now wish you the best of luck as you move onward on your quest. I shall excuse myself and see to mine." With an elegant bow, Braden Yil leaves CRAP at the stables, trusting we'll soon see you all again.
Mounts selected and properly introduced, CRAP delays no longer. Or at least that is one option. Before all CRAPers are mounted on their rented horses or mastiff brothers, Doozey asks the group, or perhaps Utar more directly, whether this is the time to try to reach out to Captain Aleyd Burral of the Black Fist. Sebastian had previously been recruited for the task, so Raist also has a say on the matter.