After Jacklop finishes fussing over his appearance, he shakes each of your hands. "I definitely prefer to be thought of as a myth. My presence is supposed to be secret. It would seem I've failed for the first time in 500 years." He scratches one long ear and laughs. Five of them entered the graveyard, they moved with even more stealth than I can muster. But I lost sight of them after they passed that tomb stone." Jacklope points toward a tombstone with ancient writing on it in the back of the graveyard. It's in remarkably good condition compared to the rest of the ruins, with only one crack that extends from the upper left and stops at the writing.
At the Laughing Dwarf...
When the song ends, Namuya cheers Hastos on, and raises his hands high, hissing a word in his native tongue. The candles roar out sparking flames for a moment, dazzling the crowd. You hear people say "Ooh!" before the flames dwindle back down to their usual size. He turns to the band. "I'm going to take a break. Keep the rhythm going, and we'll cycle. Come Hastos! I wish to have a drink with you. Will you join me?"
The band sets into an easy dance rhythm, and the crows swrils and sways happily to the beat.
" Gladly!" Hastos says as he gently sets his instrument down and shakes his hands to try and limber them back up. He bows in respect.tot he band as they continue to play, they give a slight nod or a wink in return. Hastos follows Namuya off stage to have a drink and catch his breath.
Sharn happily shook the hand of the rabbit-man and nodded. No wonder he felt the smell of evil. The insidious thing leaves it's stench even on simple onlookers. He moved up to the tombstone without wasting a moment. Yet, almost certainly, the robed figures must've been looking for a place where to gather. They would return, but stars only knew how they would defile the depths of the ground with their foul antics.
Sharn was very observant, but details and mechanisms were lost to him. In the best case, their footprints wouldn't stop at the tomb. In the worst, the tomb would've been fashioned as a contraption to hide someone's dark bidding. He knelt down and began to inspect the holy soil of those resting. (24 survival looking for footprints around the tombstone. Looking for patterns and direction.)
Namuya walks with you to the bar. "Two glasses of Habushu, please." They wink at you, "It's a drink from my land. Well, sort of. The closest equivalent. Contains snake venom. I have taught the Hachakee how to harvest the venom without harming the snake, and they've gotten quite good at it."
Glynnis slides two crystaline glasses contained a yellowish green liquid. It smells aromatic with heavy spices mixed with honey. "It's a bit spicy, but it goes down smooth once you get used to it."
At the Graveyard...
Jacklop has no interest in approaching the graveyard. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take my leave. Here," he says, handing each of you a yellow dyed egg. "You're technically supposed to find them, but tonight seems to be full of exceptions." Provided you don't stop him, he hops three times and vanishes into thin air.
Sharn's investigation provides more questions than answers. The footprints do indeed seem to stop right at the tombstone in a clean line, as if whomever is there just vaporizes on the spot.
Hastos looks skeptical at Namuya then eyes the yellowish green liquid. “What land would that be?” He lifts the glass to them as a salute and then takes a drink.
Sharn upon seeing the odd half footprints tapped his head against the tombstone. He walked around it, took a small hop as if jumping an invisible puddle, and then something that might have looked like a little jig of a shuffle. Nothing. Then, he brushed his mustache. "Swallow my stones ..." he grumbled. "I think it's magic, but I don't know what might trigger it. Whatever it is, it will take you somewhere else. Swallowed by the ground ... they wish."
Sera joins Sharn beside the tombstone, eyes narrowing as she studies the spot where the footprints simply vanish. “Just… gone,” she mutters, stuffing the absurdly out-of-place candy egg into her pocket with a confused frown.
“Magic?” she guesses aloud. “Teleportation? Or some kind of command word that opens a hidden passage?” Her voice lowers as a shiver runs through her. “Underground crypt, maybe...?”
She doesn’t like the idea—too many bad tales begin beneath the earth—but that doesn’t stop her. She crouches by the grave, running her fingers carefully along the edges of the tombstone. Her brow furrows in focus.
“Could it turn?” she murmurs, pressing along the base and sides, checking for any hidden seams, loose bricks, or strange inscriptions. “Some kind of switch?”
Despite the chill in her spine, Sera keeps probing, determined to find what lies below. Something's definitely not right here. ( investigation 15)
Watching the Harengon closely for signs of deceit, Merkas waves goodbye as the hop off, jaw dropping as Jacklop disappears so readily. (Insight 11 on Jacklop, any hints if they are part of the deception) “Wait, what? What, Wait! D’you guys…That’s not… ah, gotta worry about that later” Sliding the eggs into his pockets to inspect later he moves to the stone.
“You said Magic Sharn, wonder if I can sense anything myself” Placing his hands on the tombstone, tracing the writing and crack with his fingers, Merkas puts on a face of deep concentration as he looks for anything arcane or mundane (13 Arcana, 6 Perception looking for hints on the activation or magical signature that could be manipulated) “Hmmmmm, talk to me stone, hmmmm, magics speak to me”
"A distant land, beyond Krynn. A nation continent called Hepmonaland." He chuckles as he sips his drink, swirling the sweet and spicy flavors around in his mouth before swallowing. "I abandoned my cabal when I learned of the teachings of Mejere. I became a priest and pilgrim, seeking a new land to share my faith. But when I crossed the planes to Krynn, I saw the turmoil this land was in, and joined the cause. You'd think serpents and dragons would be natural allies, but the truth is quite the opposite," he says with a playful grin. "I've no love for the servants of Takhisis. We have a similar villain in my homeland: Tiamat. She was defeated and banished long ago, and very rarely resurfaces. It would seem Krynn suffered a different fate." He takes another sip and sighs contendedly, leaning against the bar. He's starting to show signs of getting a little tipsy and that makes him talkative.
"Nowadays, I'm just a humble quarryman. I lead the team that mines the rock so our masons and bricklayers can fortify the structures around Santekh, and I've been fighting Harmanutis over resource allocation. I want to build our defences and stabilize our homes. He just want to build prisons and interrogation chambers. I say that makes us no better than the Dragon Armies we're resisting. According to the gossip, he's been whispering in Zahir's ear to get him on his side. If they present a unified front to the council, he could get his wish. If that happens, I don't think I can stick around. I'm fighting for the freedom of an oppressed people... not for the opportunity to imprison and torture prisoners of war."
Your drink is syrupy and delicious. It's peppery and fragrant with subtle hints of Khuran spices and honey, and it goes down quite smoothly, as promised. But it hits harder than you expected. You feel looser, and more relaxed, and notice yourself leaning harder on the bar counter.
You are not yet tipsy. Just light-headed. Another drink, pass or fail, will give you the Poisoned condition (as drunk). Namuya has the Poisoned condition, and seems quite willing to chat.
At the Graveyard...
The graveyard is still and quiet... a tragic reminder of wars past. In the distance, you hear Kasi's door ring as Dana walks slowly from Kasi's hut and gently closes the door. Her pale, moon face is illuminated by a single, white candle. She doesn't seem to notice you as she strolls back to her shop. Across the street, the raucous noise of the party seems to have settled into a gentler rhythm, with the band mostly playing local and traditional instrumentals.
“Tiamat” Hastos repeats slowly. “I’ve heard of that name before somewhere… uhh, three heads, right?” Hastos, feeling the effects of the single drink he just took, purses his lips as he brings the glass to his mouth, pretending to take a sip.
“Why’s Harmanutis so big on building prisons? You mean for dragon army soldiers? And what the heck would Zahir have to gain from prisons?”
Sera traces her fingers along the inscription carved into the old tombstone, brow furrowed in concentration. “The writing... it’s not just decorative,” she mutters. “The seams... they line up too perfectly. Right where the footprints vanished. Like something opens here. A portal, maybe.”
She slowly rises to her feet, brushing dust from her knees with a sigh that carries more weight than she’d like. “And we have no idea how it activates. Or where it leads. Could be a backdoor into the village… from what? From where?”
Her gaze drifts across the cemetery to a small, warm light flickering in the distance—Kasi’s hut, with Dana the candlemaker stepping out, humming to the faint music still floating from the tavern. The celebration was still alive, vibrant. A tempting pull. Her body aches for warmth, for a tankard of ale, for Amber’s smile. But her heart won’t settle.
“So easy to worry about ‘what ifs’ and shadows,” she murmurs, turning back to Merkas and Sharn with a pained half-smile. “But that dream… it keeps clawing at me. I was cut down by a scythe. Just—gone. Right after checking the graveyard.”
Her fingers unconsciously brush the pommel of her weapon. “Was it here? Was it a warning about back there, at the tavern? Am I supposed to stop something, or… just survive it?”
She looks between them, uncertain. “I know it sounds paranoid. But I know where the scythe is now, and that’s… something. I just—” she pauses, voice low, “I think we should go back. Regroup. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something. And if that portal is a threat, better we don’t let it fester alone in the dark.”
The door closing at Kasi's draws Merkas attention briefly as he takes out a gold coin and slides it into the crack on the tombstone"Why isn't the candlemaker at the party, I know she likes Kasi, just so much suspicion to go around though"As he finishes he lets go of the coin to see if it falls into the space. "Wanna see where the weird guys disappear to?"
“Tiamat” Hastos repeats slowly. “I’ve heard of that name before somewhere… uhh, three heads, right?” Hastos, feeling the effects of the single drink he just took, purses his lips as he brings the glass to his mouth, pretending to take a sip.
“Why’s Harmanutis so big on building prisons? You mean for dragon army soldiers? And what the heck would Zahir have to gain from prisons?”
Namuya slams their drink down a little harder than they intended. "Tha's juss the thing, mate. Nothin'. Nothin' ta gain. Zahir swore off violence. He's one of the greatesss seige engineers I know, but he's determined to build nothin' that takes life anymore. Harmanutis..." they finishes their drink. "That prick... wants to change him. Zahir's a sweet man... an' hot as **** too," he says, chuckling, "I don' wanna see him give up 'is vow of nonviolence, ya know? Iss bullshit. He should juss keep workin' on the irrigation system. The waters down there somewhere. But the pressure from the council an' the people is high to get resultsss or pivot. We haven't found any ground water since comin' here. If he givess up hope, then he'll end up juss like Harm. Harm... thass what he is, mate. Harm..."
In their inebriated state, their serpentine accent starts slipping out, and they rambles on.
"Love, man... community. Thass what we need. War is hell. Yeah, I know we gotta fight 'n all, but we gotta take care of the people, or we're no better than those damn dragon army bastards. Thass why I'm glad you're here, mate. You coulda... you coulda juss... y'know... started collecting heads like her over there..." He points at Ororana who is grinding erotically against a middle-aged elven woman. "But you... you brought usss food, medicine, suppliess. An' that... that brought uss more hope an' cheer than any amount of ****in'... enemy corpses have."
He puts his arm around you, grins warmly, and puts his finger to his mouth secretively. "Shh, shhh... Be subtle... see that goofy prick over there with the scythe? I wasss offered it once. Turned it down. Scythes are for crops, an' we ain't got none. But I heard that scythe don't harvest crops... it harvestsss enemies. It doesn't kill. It harvestsss..."
At the Graveyard...
With Sera, Sharn, and Merkas all standing on or near the invisible line, you feel a strange disturbance, like your souls are being compressed. Your vision blurs and you get powerful headaches. It's only for a moment, but then it goes deathly quiet. When it's over, you each have minor nosebleeds.
No damage is taken, but you feel as if you were almost pushed away from the line by some unseen force.
Sharn jumped away from the line due to the pain. The psychic attack was either part of the enchantment or from an unseen enemy. His eyes, adapted to the dark, darted around in search of a possible spellcaster. (18 perception to look for a possible spellcaster... Who am I kidding, there's nobody there, but you can never be too sure.)
The sudden, sharp throb of pain lances through Sera’s skull, forcing her to stagger back a step as blood trickles from her nose. She quickly wipes it away with the back of her hand, already scowling.
“You must be kidding…” she mutters, voice tight. “Glyph of nosebleed? What’s next, a ward of stubbed toes?”
She glances at Merkas and Sharn, both clearly wincing from the same pressure behind the eyes, crimson drops staining their lips or sleeves. The pain had hit all of them—fast, unnatural, almost mocking.
“Headache trap? Really?” Sera growls, narrowing her eyes at the tombstone again, the script seeming to shimmer ever so slightly in the dim light. “I’m so tempted to throw a dispel magic at it and be done, but if this is a portal… blasting it apart might be the worst idea.”
She mutters the last bit mostly to herself, half expecting the tombstone to respond with another pulse of psychic spite. But instead, only silence and the heavy scent of earth greet her. She shake her head....this was gonna take some more effort and letting her consentration refocus....this clearly was magic of some sort. What did she read about such wards again...she try remember if she need some sort of key..object or uttering a word..."paladine help us here please" .( gets 12 on her arcana check with guidance)
Merkas eye's light up"Why not? Just close and lock the door so enemies can't get in? At least we can be more comfortable heading back to the Dwarf!" Standing there holding a couple more gold coins "I was gonna try protecting us from evil and good, but shutting down the entrance seems good enough to me, DO it Sera" Merkas steps back from the tombstone. And makes a gesture towards it"If the dispell thing doesn't work I think I'm gonna start throwing stones at it, see if I can break it!"
Sera listens to Merkas, her brow furrowed. His words make sense—if something is planning to come through that hidden passage, closing it first might be the best way to stop whatever’s creeping closer to Santech.
She takes a deep breath, then places a steadying hand on her holy symbol. “Alright,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Paladine… guide my hand.”
Kneeling by the tombstone, she begins to pray. The words of her faith spill forth—quiet at first, then rising in strength, conviction building with each breath. Her outstretched hand glows with a faint silvery light, and as she finishes the last word of the incantation, she releases the spell.
A wave of divine energy pulses from her hand—a sudden shimmer in the air, like heat over sand. It rushes forward, washing over the tombstone, the grass, the etched words, and the space where the footprints vanished. The very air seems to warp and tremble in its wake.
Sera exhales slowly, her fingers trembling slightly. “If it worked,” she mutters, “that should hold back whatever was waiting behind it.”
She glances toward Merkas and Sharn, gauging their reactions. “Let’s just hope it was coming... and not already here.” ( cast dispel magic)
Hastos listens to Namuya’s slow spiral into unconsciousness. “We al turned it down, to - harvests what?”” Hastos watches Namuya sway a bit and prepares for his inevitable blackout.
Sliding has hands along the tombstone again, “Well, if it worked the door is gone, but they may have another way out.” Looking over to Kasi’s place “I think I’m gonna stake out this place from Grammas, someones gonna come looking one way or another, we can catch someone that tries to fix this”
Dropping another gold coin in the crack to test the enchantment again “Here’s hoping this issue is solved, but they usually aren’t that easy” Waiting for the jolt before he moves away towards the kobolds hut “You guys feel free to head back to the Dwarf, I will get a message to you if anything happens”
The headache was still present in his mind. Wizards, powerful wizards. They exploded with arcane power and materialize things on demand. The musings formed an idea in Sharns mind, now that all of them had stepped away from the gravestone, perhaps. "They were trying to return, stay sharp."
He hoped Sera's magic worked, but it was worth warning his companions.
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At the Graveyard...
After Jacklop finishes fussing over his appearance, he shakes each of your hands. "I definitely prefer to be thought of as a myth. My presence is supposed to be secret. It would seem I've failed for the first time in 500 years." He scratches one long ear and laughs. Five of them entered the graveyard, they moved with even more stealth than I can muster. But I lost sight of them after they passed that tomb stone." Jacklope points toward a tombstone with ancient writing on it in the back of the graveyard. It's in remarkably good condition compared to the rest of the ruins, with only one crack that extends from the upper left and stops at the writing.
At the Laughing Dwarf...
When the song ends, Namuya cheers Hastos on, and raises his hands high, hissing a word in his native tongue. The candles roar out sparking flames for a moment, dazzling the crowd. You hear people say "Ooh!" before the flames dwindle back down to their usual size. He turns to the band. "I'm going to take a break. Keep the rhythm going, and we'll cycle. Come Hastos! I wish to have a drink with you. Will you join me?"
The band sets into an easy dance rhythm, and the crows swrils and sways happily to the beat.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
" Gladly!" Hastos says as he gently sets his instrument down and shakes his hands to try and limber them back up. He bows in respect.tot he band as they continue to play, they give a slight nod or a wink in return. Hastos follows Namuya off stage to have a drink and catch his breath.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Sharn happily shook the hand of the rabbit-man and nodded. No wonder he felt the smell of evil. The insidious thing leaves it's stench even on simple onlookers. He moved up to the tombstone without wasting a moment. Yet, almost certainly, the robed figures must've been looking for a place where to gather. They would return, but stars only knew how they would defile the depths of the ground with their foul antics.
Sharn was very observant, but details and mechanisms were lost to him. In the best case, their footprints wouldn't stop at the tomb. In the worst, the tomb would've been fashioned as a contraption to hide someone's dark bidding. He knelt down and began to inspect the holy soil of those resting. (24 survival looking for footprints around the tombstone. Looking for patterns and direction.)
At the Laughing Dwarf...
Namuya walks with you to the bar. "Two glasses of Habushu, please." They wink at you, "It's a drink from my land. Well, sort of. The closest equivalent. Contains snake venom. I have taught the Hachakee how to harvest the venom without harming the snake, and they've gotten quite good at it."
Glynnis slides two crystaline glasses contained a yellowish green liquid. It smells aromatic with heavy spices mixed with honey. "It's a bit spicy, but it goes down smooth once you get used to it."
At the Graveyard...
Jacklop has no interest in approaching the graveyard. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take my leave. Here," he says, handing each of you a yellow dyed egg. "You're technically supposed to find them, but tonight seems to be full of exceptions." Provided you don't stop him, he hops three times and vanishes into thin air.
Sharn's investigation provides more questions than answers. The footprints do indeed seem to stop right at the tombstone in a clean line, as if whomever is there just vaporizes on the spot.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Hastos looks skeptical at Namuya then eyes the yellowish green liquid. “What land would that be?” He lifts the glass to them as a salute and then takes a drink.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Sharn upon seeing the odd half footprints tapped his head against the tombstone. He walked around it, took a small hop as if jumping an invisible puddle, and then something that might have looked like a little jig of a shuffle. Nothing. Then, he brushed his mustache. "Swallow my stones ..." he grumbled. "I think it's magic, but I don't know what might trigger it. Whatever it is, it will take you somewhere else. Swallowed by the ground ... they wish."
Sera joins Sharn beside the tombstone, eyes narrowing as she studies the spot where the footprints simply vanish. “Just… gone,” she mutters, stuffing the absurdly out-of-place candy egg into her pocket with a confused frown.
“Magic?” she guesses aloud. “Teleportation? Or some kind of command word that opens a hidden passage?” Her voice lowers as a shiver runs through her. “Underground crypt, maybe...?”
She doesn’t like the idea—too many bad tales begin beneath the earth—but that doesn’t stop her. She crouches by the grave, running her fingers carefully along the edges of the tombstone. Her brow furrows in focus.
“Could it turn?” she murmurs, pressing along the base and sides, checking for any hidden seams, loose bricks, or strange inscriptions. “Some kind of switch?”
Despite the chill in her spine, Sera keeps probing, determined to find what lies below. Something's definitely not right here. ( investigation 15)
Watching the Harengon closely for signs of deceit, Merkas waves goodbye as the hop off, jaw dropping as Jacklop disappears so readily. (Insight 11 on Jacklop, any hints if they are part of the deception) “Wait, what? What, Wait! D’you guys…That’s not… ah, gotta worry about that later” Sliding the eggs into his pockets to inspect later he moves to the stone.
“You said Magic Sharn, wonder if I can sense anything myself” Placing his hands on the tombstone, tracing the writing and crack with his fingers, Merkas puts on a face of deep concentration as he looks for anything arcane or mundane (13 Arcana, 6 Perception looking for hints on the activation or magical signature that could be manipulated) “Hmmmmm, talk to me stone, hmmmm, magics speak to me”
Loyalty Begets Honour
At The Laughing Dwarf...
"A distant land, beyond Krynn. A nation continent called Hepmonaland." He chuckles as he sips his drink, swirling the sweet and spicy flavors around in his mouth before swallowing. "I abandoned my cabal when I learned of the teachings of Mejere. I became a priest and pilgrim, seeking a new land to share my faith. But when I crossed the planes to Krynn, I saw the turmoil this land was in, and joined the cause. You'd think serpents and dragons would be natural allies, but the truth is quite the opposite," he says with a playful grin. "I've no love for the servants of Takhisis. We have a similar villain in my homeland: Tiamat. She was defeated and banished long ago, and very rarely resurfaces. It would seem Krynn suffered a different fate." He takes another sip and sighs contendedly, leaning against the bar. He's starting to show signs of getting a little tipsy and that makes him talkative.
"Nowadays, I'm just a humble quarryman. I lead the team that mines the rock so our masons and bricklayers can fortify the structures around Santekh, and I've been fighting Harmanutis over resource allocation. I want to build our defences and stabilize our homes. He just want to build prisons and interrogation chambers. I say that makes us no better than the Dragon Armies we're resisting. According to the gossip, he's been whispering in Zahir's ear to get him on his side. If they present a unified front to the council, he could get his wish. If that happens, I don't think I can stick around. I'm fighting for the freedom of an oppressed people... not for the opportunity to imprison and torture prisoners of war."
Your drink is syrupy and delicious. It's peppery and fragrant with subtle hints of Khuran spices and honey, and it goes down quite smoothly, as promised. But it hits harder than you expected. You feel looser, and more relaxed, and notice yourself leaning harder on the bar counter.
You are not yet tipsy. Just light-headed. Another drink, pass or fail, will give you the Poisoned condition (as drunk).
Namuya has the Poisoned condition, and seems quite willing to chat.
At the Graveyard...
The graveyard is still and quiet... a tragic reminder of wars past. In the distance, you hear Kasi's door ring as Dana walks slowly from Kasi's hut and gently closes the door. Her pale, moon face is illuminated by a single, white candle. She doesn't seem to notice you as she strolls back to her shop. Across the street, the raucous noise of the party seems to have settled into a gentler rhythm, with the band mostly playing local and traditional instrumentals.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
“Tiamat” Hastos repeats slowly. “I’ve heard of that name before somewhere… uhh, three heads, right?” Hastos, feeling the effects of the single drink he just took, purses his lips as he brings the glass to his mouth, pretending to take a sip.
“Why’s Harmanutis so big on building prisons? You mean for dragon army soldiers? And what the heck would Zahir have to gain from prisons?”
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Sera traces her fingers along the inscription carved into the old tombstone, brow furrowed in concentration. “The writing... it’s not just decorative,” she mutters. “The seams... they line up too perfectly. Right where the footprints vanished. Like something opens here. A portal, maybe.”
She slowly rises to her feet, brushing dust from her knees with a sigh that carries more weight than she’d like. “And we have no idea how it activates. Or where it leads. Could be a backdoor into the village… from what? From where?”
Her gaze drifts across the cemetery to a small, warm light flickering in the distance—Kasi’s hut, with Dana the candlemaker stepping out, humming to the faint music still floating from the tavern. The celebration was still alive, vibrant. A tempting pull. Her body aches for warmth, for a tankard of ale, for Amber’s smile. But her heart won’t settle.
“So easy to worry about ‘what ifs’ and shadows,” she murmurs, turning back to Merkas and Sharn with a pained half-smile. “But that dream… it keeps clawing at me. I was cut down by a scythe. Just—gone. Right after checking the graveyard.”
Her fingers unconsciously brush the pommel of her weapon. “Was it here? Was it a warning about back there, at the tavern? Am I supposed to stop something, or… just survive it?”
She looks between them, uncertain. “I know it sounds paranoid. But I know where the scythe is now, and that’s… something. I just—” she pauses, voice low, “I think we should go back. Regroup. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something. And if that portal is a threat, better we don’t let it fester alone in the dark.”
The door closing at Kasi's draws Merkas attention briefly as he takes out a gold coin and slides it into the crack on the tombstone "Why isn't the candlemaker at the party, I know she likes Kasi, just so much suspicion to go around though" As he finishes he lets go of the coin to see if it falls into the space. "Wanna see where the weird guys disappear to?"
Loyalty Begets Honour
At the Laughing Dwarf...
Namuya slams their drink down a little harder than they intended. "Tha's juss the thing, mate. Nothin'. Nothin' ta gain. Zahir swore off violence. He's one of the greatesss seige engineers I know, but he's determined to build nothin' that takes life anymore. Harmanutis..." they finishes their drink. "That prick... wants to change him. Zahir's a sweet man... an' hot as **** too," he says, chuckling, "I don' wanna see him give up 'is vow of nonviolence, ya know? Iss bullshit. He should juss keep workin' on the irrigation system. The waters down there somewhere. But the pressure from the council an' the people is high to get resultsss or pivot. We haven't found any ground water since comin' here. If he givess up hope, then he'll end up juss like Harm. Harm... thass what he is, mate. Harm..."
In their inebriated state, their serpentine accent starts slipping out, and they rambles on.
"Love, man... community. Thass what we need. War is hell. Yeah, I know we gotta fight 'n all, but we gotta take care of the people, or we're no better than those damn dragon army bastards. Thass why I'm glad you're here, mate. You coulda... you coulda juss... y'know... started collecting heads like her over there..." He points at Ororana who is grinding erotically against a middle-aged elven woman. "But you... you brought usss food, medicine, suppliess. An' that... that brought uss more hope an' cheer than any amount of ****in'... enemy corpses have."
He puts his arm around you, grins warmly, and puts his finger to his mouth secretively. "Shh, shhh... Be subtle... see that goofy prick over there with the scythe? I wasss offered it once. Turned it down. Scythes are for crops, an' we ain't got none. But I heard that scythe don't harvest crops... it harvestsss enemies. It doesn't kill. It harvestsss..."
At the Graveyard...
With Sera, Sharn, and Merkas all standing on or near the invisible line, you feel a strange disturbance, like your souls are being compressed. Your vision blurs and you get powerful headaches. It's only for a moment, but then it goes deathly quiet. When it's over, you each have minor nosebleeds.
No damage is taken, but you feel as if you were almost pushed away from the line by some unseen force.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Sharn jumped away from the line due to the pain. The psychic attack was either part of the enchantment or from an unseen enemy. His eyes, adapted to the dark, darted around in search of a possible spellcaster. (18 perception to look for a possible spellcaster... Who am I kidding, there's nobody there, but you can never be too sure.)
The sudden, sharp throb of pain lances through Sera’s skull, forcing her to stagger back a step as blood trickles from her nose. She quickly wipes it away with the back of her hand, already scowling.
“You must be kidding…” she mutters, voice tight. “Glyph of nosebleed? What’s next, a ward of stubbed toes?”
She glances at Merkas and Sharn, both clearly wincing from the same pressure behind the eyes, crimson drops staining their lips or sleeves. The pain had hit all of them—fast, unnatural, almost mocking.
“Headache trap? Really?” Sera growls, narrowing her eyes at the tombstone again, the script seeming to shimmer ever so slightly in the dim light. “I’m so tempted to throw a dispel magic at it and be done, but if this is a portal… blasting it apart might be the worst idea.”
She mutters the last bit mostly to herself, half expecting the tombstone to respond with another pulse of psychic spite. But instead, only silence and the heavy scent of earth greet her. She shake her head....this was gonna take some more effort and letting her consentration refocus....this clearly was magic of some sort. What did she read about such wards again...she try remember if she need some sort of key..object or uttering a word..."paladine help us here please" .( gets 12 on her arcana check with guidance)
Merkas eye's light up "Why not? Just close and lock the door so enemies can't get in? At least we can be more comfortable heading back to the Dwarf!" Standing there holding a couple more gold coins "I was gonna try protecting us from evil and good, but shutting down the entrance seems good enough to me, DO it Sera" Merkas steps back from the tombstone. And makes a gesture towards it "If the dispell thing doesn't work I think I'm gonna start throwing stones at it, see if I can break it!"
Loyalty Begets Honour
Sera listens to Merkas, her brow furrowed. His words make sense—if something is planning to come through that hidden passage, closing it first might be the best way to stop whatever’s creeping closer to Santech.
She takes a deep breath, then places a steadying hand on her holy symbol. “Alright,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Paladine… guide my hand.”
Kneeling by the tombstone, she begins to pray. The words of her faith spill forth—quiet at first, then rising in strength, conviction building with each breath. Her outstretched hand glows with a faint silvery light, and as she finishes the last word of the incantation, she releases the spell.
A wave of divine energy pulses from her hand—a sudden shimmer in the air, like heat over sand. It rushes forward, washing over the tombstone, the grass, the etched words, and the space where the footprints vanished. The very air seems to warp and tremble in its wake.
Sera exhales slowly, her fingers trembling slightly. “If it worked,” she mutters, “that should hold back whatever was waiting behind it.”
She glances toward Merkas and Sharn, gauging their reactions. “Let’s just hope it was coming... and not already here.” ( cast dispel magic)
Hastos listens to Namuya’s slow spiral into unconsciousness. “We al turned it down, to - harvests what?”” Hastos watches Namuya sway a bit and prepares for his inevitable blackout.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Sliding has hands along the tombstone again, “Well, if it worked the door is gone, but they may have another way out.” Looking over to Kasi’s place “I think I’m gonna stake out this place from Grammas, someones gonna come looking one way or another, we can catch someone that tries to fix this”
Dropping another gold coin in the crack to test the enchantment again “Here’s hoping this issue is solved, but they usually aren’t that easy” Waiting for the jolt before he moves away towards the kobolds hut “You guys feel free to head back to the Dwarf, I will get a message to you if anything happens”
Loyalty Begets Honour
The headache was still present in his mind. Wizards, powerful wizards. They exploded with arcane power and materialize things on demand. The musings formed an idea in Sharns mind, now that all of them had stepped away from the gravestone, perhaps. "They were trying to return, stay sharp."
He hoped Sera's magic worked, but it was worth warning his companions.