"Then go, brave heroes." Nesurentul wags his tail, as if to indicate the direction of the opening the characters first entered. "Go and rest where you see fit. I will focus my thoughts on the influences of the Far Realm... Influences that must not be allowed to linger long..."
The journey to Eldath's Shrine is uneventful, and our heroes camp there to fully recover.
Our heroes thus discover that Eldath's blessing does not last indefinitely... about an hour after receiving it, the feeling of being in a state of grace begins to fade and, gradually, disappears completely. It will probably be necessary to renew the blessing, once they decide to leave again...
And after another two hours, another discovery: evidently, even if not often, someone is walking these corridors, because Mival, who was on sentry duty at that moment, wakes up his companions (at least those who are sleeping at the moment) and announces: "I hear someone swimming... someone is coming from the west".
Our heroes have a few moments to organize themselves as they see fit, but it is clear that the 'someone' heard by Mival will arrive very soon! And the Shrine, although it emanates a welcoming sense of peace, forces the six members of the party to stay very close together... resting has been feasible, but a possible fight would be uncomfortable, if all six of our heroes were there together!
What to do?
[[ OOC: Marked the shrine area with the '1' token ]]
As Mival’s warning rippled through the quiet waters, Elias rose smoothly to his feet, staff in hand. Though he had slept, the tension returned to his posture as if it had never left. His blue eyes turned westward, scanning the dim corridor beyond the shrine with wary precision.
“You heard him,” Elias said quietly but firmly to the others. “We’ve had precious few friends in these halls. Prepare yourselves—but let’s not be the first to draw blades if we can help it.”
He reached into the folds of his robes and drew a sigil in the water with his fingers, whispering arcane words beneath his breath. As the spell settled into readiness, a soft shimmer trailed down the length of his staff.
“I’ve magic ready if things turn foul.”
He shifted slightly to one side of the shrine's open arch, angling himself so that he'd have a clear line of sight to the corridor without obstructing the others. The sanctity of the place made retreat difficult, but the calm around them was still intact—for now.
“Let’s see who dares disturb Eldath’s peace.”
His voice, though low, carried with it the quiet authority of a man who had faced many things in his long years… and was not eager to add another battle to that list, but would not hesitate if forced.
((Elias readies a spell in case the visitor appears to be aggressive))
Might we take this opportunity to allow Mival to visit his mother and sleeping in beds at the Inn rather than on the hard wet floor here. Though we may stand at the shrine of Eldath and breath air, if we lie to sleep then our heads will still be below water. I think we should repair to dryer ground for our rest. Now that we know the lay of the water, we can perhaps swim out and deny the ferryman his return fare.
In the glow of Tarysaa's dim magical light, a figure comes, swimming nimbly. It looks like a sort of fish-ogre, a creature that is clearly aquatic, large in size, with numerous fins that help it swim and small tentacles that surround its mouth bristling with sharp teeth. The creature has arms (and sturdy ones at that) and in its right hand it was already balancing a harpoon, as if it were about to throw it.
But now the creature has stopped and is looking at the party, without throwing its weapon.
"It was going to 'hunt us'..." Mival whispers to her companions, evidently reading the superficial thoughts of the newcomer "But now that it sees that there are so many of us, it is undecided on what to do."
Zevriel steps forward, putting himself between the party and the fish-ogre, feet braced where he can stand—even if that means the cold water creeps up past his waist. He studies the creature with steady, wary eyes, watching for any twitch of muscle or tightening grip on that harpoon—trying to read if it’s sizing them up for a fight or about to turn tail.
He lifts his twinblade and gives it a practiced whirl (Dex check 21 => +2AC, see spoiler), the blades flashing in a tight arc. The motion isn’t just for show: it makes him harder to hit, and maybe, just maybe, the spinning steel will give the ogre a second thought about testing its luck. Zev doesn’t threaten, but he’s ready—calm, silent, shield and warning both in his stance.
“Best keep your distance,” he says quietly, more warning than challenge, voice rough but honest. His focus is total—if the beast lunges, Zevriel will be the wall it breaks on, not the back it drags away.
Special: Whirl. When you are wielding the twinblade in two hands, you can use a bonus action to attempt to whirl the weapon. To whirl, make a DC 10 Dexterity check, adding your proficiency bonus if you are proficient with twinblades. On a success, you gain a +1 bonus to your AC until the start of your next turn, the whirling blades acting as a barrier against attacks. On a result of 15 or higher, you gain a +2 bonus, instead. On a failure, you deal slashing damage to yourself equal to your proficiency bonus and gain no bonus to your AC from the whirl this turn.
Blade Barrier: Your expertise with twinblades allows you to turn your defensive flourish into an offensive strike. When you use the Whirl special bonus action with a twinblade, you gain the following features:
You can make one additional melee attack with the weapon. This attack uses the same ability modifier as the primary attack, and the weapon’s damage die for this attack is a d4.
Until the start of your next turn, other creatures provoke an opportunity attack from you when they enter your reach or make a melee attack against you while within your reach.
As Zevriel stepped forward, resolute and imposing, Elias moved just behind and slightly to his side—close enough to be seen, but far enough that the swirl of steel wouldn’t interrupt his performance.
He lifted his free hand in slow, deliberate motion, fingers weaving through the air with practiced elegance. His staff began to glow faintly, casting a soft violet hue that shimmered through the currents like eldritch fire. His voice followed—low, melodic, but resonant with arcane cadence. Though no true spell took shape, the rhythm and precision of his gestures suggested otherwise.
“Shael-nur ven draelith… ven toran ilmyr…”
He let his eyes narrow and locked them onto the fish-ogre, expression unreadable but unwavering.
“I would reconsider,” he intoned, his voice now rising just enough to carry, “unless you wish to find out what sort of magic blooms in sacred water.”
He didn’t break the chant—not yet. Let the creature see the flashing steel, feel the hum of power gathering, and sense the unified will of six weathered adventurers ready to defend themselves.
Elias knew that fear, when paired with uncertainty, could be a weapon more potent than fire or frost.
((Rolled a natty for intimidation...total of 24!))
Paqen rises and watched the interaction between the group and this new being. Thinking back would he be able to identify from other encounters or stories from groups he has studied?
”Who are you and where did you come from? The underground river perhaps?”
The creature seems impressed by the party's actions and dives again, seemingly returning in the direction it came from.
"It didn't have the courage to attack us alone," Mival announces - having evidently continued to read the surface thoughts - "but it intends to call upon its kin to attack us as a group. We have time to either organize a defense nearby, or go elsewhere... but certainly not to finish resting here."
Meanwhile, Paqen thinks he has figured out what creature it is. It must be a Merrow, a member of an aggressive race of predators that usually haunt waters, preying on any edible creature that crosses their path. These savage monsters snatch and devour unwary prey, hauling drowned corpses back to their underwater lairs to feed.
It is said that their monstrous appearance is the result of a mutation induced by none other than Demogorgon, the infamous Prince of Demons - what is certain is that they are creatures with a tendency towards violence and bullying.
Paqen would share the information with the group…and look around in concern. “I think we should probably leave and regroup for now. Now that it knows we are here we are fair game…especially in the water where they would have the advantage.”
Elias allowed the illusion of spellcasting to fade, his hand lowering as the creature lingered at the water’s edge without advancing. He took a careful step back, the shrine’s smooth stone cool beneath his boots, and turned slightly to Paqen with a thoughtful nod.
“You’re right, my friend. We’ve lost the element of concealment—what peace we had here has likely just become a lure for others.”
Then, Elias looked to Mival. There was a curious softness in his expression—pride, perhaps, though not without the shadow of uncertainty.
“Mival… perhaps it’s time we turned our feet toward answers, not just mysteries.” His voice was gentle but full of conviction. “Your kin must hear what’s transpired here. The truth, or as close to it as we now know. You’ve walked among ghosts, witnessed what no double ever should—and helped send a shapeshifter to her grave.”
A flicker of wry amusement passed his lips.
“And let’s not forget the part with the dragon. That’s a tale worth retelling—even among the Lords from Below.”
He rested a hand lightly on Mival’s shoulder.
“Come home with something more than silence. You’ve earned that.”
Then, turning back to the group at large:
“Let’s leave this place on our terms—not dragged from it.”
Mival nods: "I will follow you, of course... whether it's towards answers, or towards mysteries."
"But I feel now with even more certainty than before that this is my life," his green eyes betray a strong conviction. "I will become an adventurer, just as you all are. And if you want to leave this place now, I ask you to take me back with you, when you return down here. What can I say?" he shrugs and smiles "Perhaps it is a propensity that also comes to me from my famous ancestor, Lord Rassalantar... or Rajmund, as we now know we can call him."
Zevriel watches the Merrow slip away into the shadows, his knuckles white on his twinblade. He listens carefully to Mival’s warning, a deep line settling in his brow. He glances to each of his companions, his tone low and steady: “If that thing comes back, it’ll bring friends. They’re hunters. Smart, too. It’s seen what we can do—and it won’t pick a fight unless it thinks it can win.”
He looks around at the flooded shrine, unease plain on his face. “Best not to be caught out in the open or deep water. Can’t run, can’t fight right, not here. We need ground we can stand on—room to swing, back to a wall. Near the stairs maybe, northeast from the shrine.”
Zev frowns, glancing down at his hands, then back up. “And… everyone keeps Eldath’s blessing topped up, always got at least half an hour left. If we get dragged into the water, we don't drown. If we get cornered, at least we stand together, not scattered or choking.” He gives a small shrug. “Don’t like waiting for trouble, but running now just means we get chased. Better to pick our ground and make ‘em come to us.”
He scans the group, not giving orders, just putting his mind to what needs doing, trusting his companions to act on what makes sense. In his plain, earnest way, he adds: “We’ll hold. We’ll be ready. And when they come, we show them we’re not easy prey.”
Following Zevriel's advice, the party prays for a minute to the Lady of Still Waters, in her shrine, and immediately the comforting feeling of Eldath's Blessing returns.
Now... Zevriel has proposed to position themselves near the stairs and prepare to fight there. Mival follows him. Is the group of heroes in agreement? Will it be in that area that they will await the return of the Merrow, who will probably bring 'good company'?
About a couple more minutes pass, and then lo and behold, the original Merrow is back... with two more in tow!
The harpoons poised to strike immediately betray their evil intentions! The first Merrow grins sinisterly (Sg) upon seeing you, the two behind him are characterized one by a blue spot that extends for several scales near the shoulder (Bs) and another by a scarred cheek (Sc).
Time to roll for initiative! And if you prefer a different placement than the one I've assigned you, describe where you'd rather be placed instead.
Paqen begins to relax a bit more and looks to the others. “Yes. Let’s get somewhere dry. I feel the shine is the best place.”
He nods to the dragon, “I am great full for the offer but some time breathing air would be nice…and some time to dry off my feathers.”
"Then go, brave heroes." Nesurentul wags his tail, as if to indicate the direction of the opening the characters first entered. "Go and rest where you see fit. I will focus my thoughts on the influences of the Far Realm... Influences that must not be allowed to linger long..."
The journey to Eldath's Shrine is uneventful, and our heroes camp there to fully recover.
Our heroes thus discover that Eldath's blessing does not last indefinitely... about an hour after receiving it, the feeling of being in a state of grace begins to fade and, gradually, disappears completely. It will probably be necessary to renew the blessing, once they decide to leave again...
And after another two hours, another discovery: evidently, even if not often, someone is walking these corridors, because Mival, who was on sentry duty at that moment, wakes up his companions (at least those who are sleeping at the moment) and announces: "I hear someone swimming... someone is coming from the west".
Our heroes have a few moments to organize themselves as they see fit, but it is clear that the 'someone' heard by Mival will arrive very soon! And the Shrine, although it emanates a welcoming sense of peace, forces the six members of the party to stay very close together... resting has been feasible, but a possible fight would be uncomfortable, if all six of our heroes were there together!
What to do?
[[ OOC: Marked the shrine area with the '1' token ]]
As Mival’s warning rippled through the quiet waters, Elias rose smoothly to his feet, staff in hand. Though he had slept, the tension returned to his posture as if it had never left. His blue eyes turned westward, scanning the dim corridor beyond the shrine with wary precision.
“You heard him,” Elias said quietly but firmly to the others. “We’ve had precious few friends in these halls. Prepare yourselves—but let’s not be the first to draw blades if we can help it.”
He reached into the folds of his robes and drew a sigil in the water with his fingers, whispering arcane words beneath his breath. As the spell settled into readiness, a soft shimmer trailed down the length of his staff.
“I’ve magic ready if things turn foul.”
He shifted slightly to one side of the shrine's open arch, angling himself so that he'd have a clear line of sight to the corridor without obstructing the others. The sanctity of the place made retreat difficult, but the calm around them was still intact—for now.
“Let’s see who dares disturb Eldath’s peace.”
His voice, though low, carried with it the quiet authority of a man who had faced many things in his long years… and was not eager to add another battle to that list, but would not hesitate if forced.
((Elias readies a spell in case the visitor appears to be aggressive))
Tarysaa comes out of her trance state instantly alert. Standing and stretching, she heeds Elias' warnng and stand ready for what may come.
Light
This time it is different. A dim, red glow... barely more than a candle flame rather than the typical blazing torch or lamplight.
Might we take this opportunity to allow Mival to visit his mother and sleeping in beds at the Inn rather than on the hard wet floor here. Though we may stand at the shrine of Eldath and breath air, if we lie to sleep then our heads will still be below water. I think we should repair to dryer ground for our rest. Now that we know the lay of the water, we can perhaps swim out and deny the ferryman his return fare.
In the glow of Tarysaa's dim magical light, a figure comes, swimming nimbly. It looks like a sort of fish-ogre, a creature that is clearly aquatic, large in size, with numerous fins that help it swim and small tentacles that surround its mouth bristling with sharp teeth. The creature has arms (and sturdy ones at that) and in its right hand it was already balancing a harpoon, as if it were about to throw it.
But now the creature has stopped and is looking at the party, without throwing its weapon.
"It was going to 'hunt us'..." Mival whispers to her companions, evidently reading the superficial thoughts of the newcomer "But now that it sees that there are so many of us, it is undecided on what to do."
Zevriel steps forward, putting himself between the party and the fish-ogre, feet braced where he can stand—even if that means the cold water creeps up past his waist. He studies the creature with steady, wary eyes, watching for any twitch of muscle or tightening grip on that harpoon—trying to read if it’s sizing them up for a fight or about to turn tail.
He lifts his twinblade and gives it a practiced whirl (Dex check 21 => +2AC, see spoiler), the blades flashing in a tight arc. The motion isn’t just for show: it makes him harder to hit, and maybe, just maybe, the spinning steel will give the ogre a second thought about testing its luck. Zev doesn’t threaten, but he’s ready—calm, silent, shield and warning both in his stance.
“Best keep your distance,” he says quietly, more warning than challenge, voice rough but honest. His focus is total—if the beast lunges, Zevriel will be the wall it breaks on, not the back it drags away.
Special: Whirl. When you are wielding the twinblade in two hands, you can use a bonus action to attempt to whirl the weapon. To whirl, make a DC 10 Dexterity check, adding your proficiency bonus if you are proficient with twinblades. On a success, you gain a +1 bonus to your AC until the start of your next turn, the whirling blades acting as a barrier against attacks. On a result of 15 or higher, you gain a +2 bonus, instead. On a failure, you deal slashing damage to yourself equal to your proficiency bonus and gain no bonus to your AC from the whirl this turn.
Blade Barrier:
Your expertise with twinblades allows you to turn your defensive flourish into an offensive strike. When you use the Whirl special bonus action with a twinblade, you gain the following features:
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
As Zevriel stepped forward, resolute and imposing, Elias moved just behind and slightly to his side—close enough to be seen, but far enough that the swirl of steel wouldn’t interrupt his performance.
He lifted his free hand in slow, deliberate motion, fingers weaving through the air with practiced elegance. His staff began to glow faintly, casting a soft violet hue that shimmered through the currents like eldritch fire. His voice followed—low, melodic, but resonant with arcane cadence. Though no true spell took shape, the rhythm and precision of his gestures suggested otherwise.
“Shael-nur ven draelith… ven toran ilmyr…”
He let his eyes narrow and locked them onto the fish-ogre, expression unreadable but unwavering.
“I would reconsider,” he intoned, his voice now rising just enough to carry, “unless you wish to find out what sort of magic blooms in sacred water.”
He didn’t break the chant—not yet. Let the creature see the flashing steel, feel the hum of power gathering, and sense the unified will of six weathered adventurers ready to defend themselves.
Elias knew that fear, when paired with uncertainty, could be a weapon more potent than fire or frost.
((Rolled a natty for intimidation...total of 24!))
Paqen rises and watched the interaction between the group and this new being. Thinking back would he be able to identify from other encounters or stories from groups he has studied?
”Who are you and where did you come from? The underground river perhaps?”
Paqen ponders the fish-ogre... 19
The creature seems impressed by the party's actions and dives again, seemingly returning in the direction it came from.
"It didn't have the courage to attack us alone," Mival announces - having evidently continued to read the surface thoughts - "but it intends to call upon its kin to attack us as a group. We have time to either organize a defense nearby, or go elsewhere... but certainly not to finish resting here."
Meanwhile, Paqen thinks he has figured out what creature it is. It must be a Merrow, a member of an aggressive race of predators that usually haunt waters, preying on any edible creature that crosses their path. These savage monsters snatch and devour unwary prey, hauling drowned corpses back to their underwater lairs to feed.
It is said that their monstrous appearance is the result of a mutation induced by none other than Demogorgon, the infamous Prince of Demons - what is certain is that they are creatures with a tendency towards violence and bullying.
Paqen would share the information with the group…and look around in concern. “I think we should probably leave and regroup for now. Now that it knows we are here we are fair game…especially in the water where they would have the advantage.”
Elias allowed the illusion of spellcasting to fade, his hand lowering as the creature lingered at the water’s edge without advancing. He took a careful step back, the shrine’s smooth stone cool beneath his boots, and turned slightly to Paqen with a thoughtful nod.
“You’re right, my friend. We’ve lost the element of concealment—what peace we had here has likely just become a lure for others.”
Then, Elias looked to Mival. There was a curious softness in his expression—pride, perhaps, though not without the shadow of uncertainty.
“Mival… perhaps it’s time we turned our feet toward answers, not just mysteries.” His voice was gentle but full of conviction. “Your kin must hear what’s transpired here. The truth, or as close to it as we now know. You’ve walked among ghosts, witnessed what no double ever should—and helped send a shapeshifter to her grave.”
A flicker of wry amusement passed his lips.
“And let’s not forget the part with the dragon. That’s a tale worth retelling—even among the Lords from Below.”
He rested a hand lightly on Mival’s shoulder.
“Come home with something more than silence. You’ve earned that.”
Then, turning back to the group at large:
“Let’s leave this place on our terms—not dragged from it.”
((Elias rolled a 7 for persuasion))
Mival nods: "I will follow you, of course... whether it's towards answers, or towards mysteries."
"But I feel now with even more certainty than before that this is my life," his green eyes betray a strong conviction. "I will become an adventurer, just as you all are. And if you want to leave this place now, I ask you to take me back with you, when you return down here. What can I say?" he shrugs and smiles "Perhaps it is a propensity that also comes to me from my famous ancestor, Lord Rassalantar... or Rajmund, as we now know we can call him."
Zevriel watches the Merrow slip away into the shadows, his knuckles white on his twinblade. He listens carefully to Mival’s warning, a deep line settling in his brow. He glances to each of his companions, his tone low and steady: “If that thing comes back, it’ll bring friends. They’re hunters. Smart, too. It’s seen what we can do—and it won’t pick a fight unless it thinks it can win.”
He looks around at the flooded shrine, unease plain on his face. “Best not to be caught out in the open or deep water. Can’t run, can’t fight right, not here. We need ground we can stand on—room to swing, back to a wall. Near the stairs maybe, northeast from the shrine.”
Zev frowns, glancing down at his hands, then back up. “And… everyone keeps Eldath’s blessing topped up, always got at least half an hour left. If we get dragged into the water, we don't drown. If we get cornered, at least we stand together, not scattered or choking.” He gives a small shrug. “Don’t like waiting for trouble, but running now just means we get chased. Better to pick our ground and make ‘em come to us.”
He scans the group, not giving orders, just putting his mind to what needs doing, trusting his companions to act on what makes sense. In his plain, earnest way, he adds: “We’ll hold. We’ll be ready. And when they come, we show them we’re not easy prey.”
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Following Zevriel's advice, the party prays for a minute to the Lady of Still Waters, in her shrine, and immediately the comforting feeling of Eldath's Blessing returns.
Now... Zevriel has proposed to position themselves near the stairs and prepare to fight there. Mival follows him. Is the group of heroes in agreement? Will it be in that area that they will await the return of the Merrow, who will probably bring 'good company'?
[[ OOC: OK, I'll take that as a 'yes' ]]
About a couple more minutes pass, and then lo and behold, the original Merrow is back... with two more in tow!
The harpoons poised to strike immediately betray their evil intentions! The first Merrow grins sinisterly (Sg) upon seeing you, the two behind him are characterized one by a blue spot that extends for several scales near the shoulder (Bs) and another by a scarred cheek (Sc).
Time to roll for initiative! And if you prefer a different placement than the one I've assigned you, describe where you'd rather be placed instead.
NPCs/Monsters' Initiatives:
Mival: 21
Sinister Grin: 17
Blue Spot: 13
Scarred Cheek: 17
Ardana: 7
Tarysaa Initiative: Nat20 +4 = 24