Eldrin stands still in the rising water, now swirling about his knees, the ripples broken only by floating debris and the lingering steam from the charred creature’s corpse. His eyes are fixed on the horned dwarven statue, iundisturbed by tremor, battle, or flood. The gem in its hand continuing to shimmer in temptation.
“Still intact,”he murmurs, almost to himself. “And entirely wrong.”
The tremors had passed, but the danger hadn't. He turns slowly as Meira approaches, her voice measured but edged with urgency.
Eldrin considers her question, the faintest twitch of a brow betraying his thought.
“I could,”he replies evenly, “but I would not. The gem radiates illusion. The statue, evocation. Both were made by magic, not merely enchanted. They are the trap, not just bait for one.”
His gaze shifts to the blocked western tunnel, still semi-passable. “If we try to tamper with it, we may not be contending with just more rubble.”
With Eldrin'scomment, and Lyrasafely perched atop the chitinous creature they had just defeated, Meiragoes to help Zephyros- first with patching the cracks as he directs, then simply moving rubble to the extent she is able. "If we all help this will be taken care of in no time!" she says. Then, looking up to Lyra she gives the halfling a smile, "Except for you of course. You just stay up there and out of the water!"
"I can help from up here a bit!"Lyraexclaims from Zephyros back. With her arms wrapped around the fighter's neck, she tries to give him a little divine push to help move the rubble away. Then she leans in and whispers, "I know you're not particularly fond of gods, but I hope you don't mind this little push!"
(ooc: not sure if Zephyros will need to make a roll, but Lyra gives him Guidance just in case)
Eldrin exhales softly, flicking a strand of silver hair from his brow as the others begin working in earnest. The room continues to echo with the faint splashes of shifting feet and stone scraping against stone. His pale gaze lingers on the collapsed tunnel, then on the rising water, creeping higher by the minute.
He glances to Meira and Zephyros, already shoulder-deep in effort, and allows himself the faintest sigh of resignation.
“Manual labor,” he mutters, deadpan. “The unglamorous salvation of many a scholar.”
Stepping forward, he lifts the hem of his robe above the waterline and wades toward the rubble. His movements are careful and deliberate, but he does not shy away from the task. Instead, he assesses the tangle of stone with a critical eye, seeking cracks, balance points, and pressure paths with the same precision he applies to arcane diagrams.
“Remove that wedge first,” he says quietly to Zephyros, nodding toward a fractured slab. “It’s supporting a precarious angle above. If it shifts the wrong way, we may end up with more tunnel than air.”
As he crouches beside the fighter, eyes narrowing in thought. With a flick of his fingers, a subtle shimmer of arcane energy flickers along the stone as Prestidigitation clears the mud and grime from its surface. Beneath the muck, a thin fracture reveals itself.
“Ah. There it is. A clean edge reveals more than brute force ever will,” he murmurs, glancing sidelong at Zephyros and Meira already hard at work.
With another quick gesture, he marks a nearby stone with a faint violet glow, barely visible, but enough to serve as a warning. “Avoid this one for now,”he instructs. “The pressure’s uneven on the left. Dislodge it too early and it could collapse the whole face.”
Eldrin doesn’t strain or grunt as he works, instead, he moves with measured efficiency. When he pauses, it’s only to dry his gloves or remove slick sediment from handholds with quick bursts of cantrip magic. He even conjures a small wisp of warmth to dry and slightly expand one of the colder, cracked stones.
“Not all strength comes from the arm,”he notes. “Sometimes, it lies in knowing which stone resents its place.”
He gives a sidelong glance to Lyra still perched atop the monster’s back. “And sometimes, it lies in knowing when to stay dry.”
Briefly glancing at the statue, still untouched, still watching, and adds under his breath, “And may the gods find it amusing how easily mortals are buried by their ruins.”
Zephyros whispers back to the young cleric, "Many thanks, my lady."
Hearing Eldrin's remark causes Zephyros to grant a respectful nod. "Aye, that is true. More often than not, knowing is most of the battle." The bear of a man continues working hastily, adding, "I appreciate your willingness to help how you can, given your... particular disdain for hard labor."
Zephyros then glances to the ranger and the paladin. The veteran gives an order, not in a commanding tone but calm, collected and as one seeking the betterment of his friends. "Would you two mind starting clearing out that collapsed tunnel? If we divide and conquer, we'll be out of here in no time."
Yarina is quick to get to work alongside Zephyros and Eldrin. She works diligently to clear the hallway, listening to Eldrin as he guides their actions (Athletics 22 & 14).
Gareth also doesn't shy away from the work and helps as best he can (Athletics 22 & 11).
Meira and Zephyros, you both plug the holes with water trickling in until nearly no water is seeping into the room. you then move to the hallway to assist with clearing the rubble. Please give me two Athletics checks with advantage, thanks to Eldrin's instructions. Zephyros, thanks to Lyra's guidance, you may also add a 1d4 to the results.
Eldrin, please give me an Arcana check with advantage as you utilize your knowledge of the weave to assist with the excavation.
The battle with the strange creature went quickly in their favor but not without some injuries. Gareth stanches a wound on his arm from where the monster had landed a bite. With the water climbing and the others discussing their various options, the ranger takes a quick moment to assess the creature for any suitable trophies he can collect. Then, if he has enough time, he'll carve something from the creature's shell. He also tries to recall anything he knows about this type of monster.
Nature - 20
Gareth helps Yarina and the others clear the Western passage. Sweat starts to form on his brow as he hauls stone after stone away to clear a path. The ranger gives Eldrin a nod as the wizard doesn't shy away from getting his hands dirty either. At least he has some sort of spell to clean them right up again. The elven wizard surprised him with his willingness to perform "manual labor," and Gareth had to give him credit for it.
As they continue their work, the ranger glances back toward Lyra, perched atop Zephyros' back. "I don't mind giving piggyback rides either, if you need a change of pace or Zephyros starts to get tired," he grins.
Gareth, you expertly remove a large chitin shell from the creature's shoulder. If processed correctly, its tough surface could make a useful shield or similar armor piece. You believe this trophy is worth taking. You recognize this creature as an Umber Hulk. However, this one looks to be an adolescent. You've read stories about these creatures scrambling minds and being extremely hard to fight, but this fight, as you put it, "...went quickly in their favor...". You believe this younger creature hadn't developed fully all of its capabilities.
[[Apologies for rolling your Athletics checks for you. I thought you were going to be out longer. Welcome back, and glad to have you.]]
DC 100 was collectively passed with 145 Athletics. It takes the group about four hours, roughly half the time, to clear the hallway enough to pass through. Just as you finish, the cracks in the eastern wall begin to leak water into the room, but you are walking out into the main temple area by now. Some of the rooms' water flows out into the temple beyond, but a large portion stays there thanks to a layer of rubble you left in place. You are all soaking wet and exhausted at this point. Outside, you see Norbus and Daslyn sleeping soundly on two sleeping mats near a small campfire.
Eldrin steps free of the final obstruction. His boots squelch with each step, sodden robes once fine and meticulously pressed, cling to his long frame.
His icy gaze settles on Norbus and Dazlyn, sprawled out by the fire, snoring contentedly.
Eldrin’s expression flattens.
He extends a hand, muttering an incantation in smooth, clipped Elvish. A faint shimmer of arcane light flickers at his fingertips before drifting through the air toward the dwarves. With a flick of his wrist, the an arcane hand gives Norbus a none-too-gentle poke in the ribs, then promptly swats Dazlyn’s foot with the sort of crisp precision that suggests deliberate satisfaction.
“Well,”he intones dryly, “behold an example of dwarven endurance, reliable, locked in a fierce battle with dreams, apparently.”
Eldrin continues, his voice even and unmistakably unimpressed. “While you were resting comfortably beside a fire, the rest of us were nearly drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple.”
He pauses, glancing around at the others with feigned thoughtfulness.
“But then, someone had to stay behind and make sure the fire didn’t, flee.”
Eldrin lets the silence linger just long enough for the weight of his sarcasm to settle over the waking dwarves.
Then, with a sigh, he steps back and surveys the disheveled group, soaked to the bone, muddy, scraped, and somehow still breathing.
“Well,”he mutters with arched brow, “this simply won’t do.”
With a flick of his wrist, arcane sigils dance around his fingers. A faint shimmer pulses through the air as water lifts from cloaks, mud vanishes from boots, and filth peels itself from armor. One by one, each of them is restored to something resembling dignity, though their exhaustion still hangs heavy in the air.
“Better,”Eldrin says, smoothing his sleeves with deliberate grace.
Gareth gives Eldrin a grateful smile as the wizard's spell removes the water and grime from his clothes and armor. It's amazing how much being dry and warm can really improve one's mood, the ranger muses ruefully. He stifles a grin as Eldrin unleashes his frustration on the sleeping dwarves, prodding them with his mage hand none too gently.
"Go easy on them," Gareth says, amusement in his tone. "We got drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple and survived. I doubt they would've gotten past the first chamber without being melted by the acid of those oozes."
"Well, someone's grumpy,"Meirasays with a chuckle as Eldrinberates the dwarves. She is though quite grateful when his magic helps dry her off. She quite sincerely tells him, "Thank you."
"I guess we aren't going to make it back to town tonight," she muses and immediately starts to look about for a spot she might be able to rest. Finding a spot for the moment where she can lean back comfortably against a stone, she sits upright, her dulcimer in hand. She starts plucking at the strings, slowly tuning them as the journey had seemed to have not been the best for the instrument. But soon she stums her thumb across all the strings. The melodic sound brings a faint smile to her face.
She starts to play a few chords, beginning a soft, slow song:
'Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet, Still round the corner we may meet A sudden tree or standing stone That none have seen but we alone. Tree and flower, leaf and grass, Let them pass! Let them pass! Hill and water under sky, Pass them by! Pass them by!'
Her words stop as the strumming of the dulcimer continues. She glances pointedly at Garetha moment, then the others. She seems to just be taking in what they are doing and perhaps gauging their reaction to her performance.
Once outside, Lyra hops off Zephyros' back, clearly happy to be free from the temple—but even more delighted by the joy of the piggyback ride. She scoops up her soaked and dirty tunic with both hands and begins to curtsy, saying, "Many thanks, my Lord!"At that precise moment, Eldrin's magic comes through, transforming her messy clothes into a clean and dry version of themselves. She beams at the wizard. "Perfect timing!"
The cleric stifles a laugh as Eldrin begins to poke the sleeping Draves with his arcane hand, and decides to join in the fun. Holding her holy symbol in one hand, she whispers to Tymora, "Just a little bit of fun after all that fighting ..." Then, with a flick of her other hand, she conjures tremors in the earth just beneath the dwarves' bedrolls. Covering her face in mock alarm, she exclaims, "Gods above, is the ground here unstable as well!?"
A moment later, she settles beside Meira, listening to her beautiful song and clapping excitedly when it ends.
Meiraseems quite aware of Lyrasettling beside her, and she launches into the next two verses:
'Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though we pass them by today, Tomorrow we may come this way And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun. Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe, Let them go! Let them go! Sand and stone and pool and dell, Fare you well! Fare you well!'
'Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back to home and bed. Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade! Fire and lamp and meat and bread, And then to bed! And then to bed!'
With the last word she plays a final soft chord, glancing over at Lyraa second before shifting to address Gareth. "I thought this a fitting song for you, sir. For you and your wandering spirit. And to the day when home is ahead and your Sylvie gets you back."
She seems to relax where she sits, fingers still lightly plucking at the strings. She almost whispers to Lyra, "My melodies are yours to command should you wish more. Though at some point we might all need to heed the song's final refrain."
Lyra rests her chin on one hand as Meira continues to play and sing, quietly exhaling. This, she thinks, is a good way to recover from what they've experienced in Abby's temple.
Her gaze follows Meira's hands as they dance across the dulcimer's strings, marveling at how precise each motion is—how not a single note is missed, even as she sings. But then it strikes her: it's not so different from casting magic. The movement of the hands, the focus, the rhythm, the voice. "This is like doing magic," she murmurs, "Music is magic!"
Then, with a mischievous grin, the halfling adds aloud, "Oh? Then I command you never to stop playing!" She pauses, then laughs. "Well… unless we're in the middle of a fight, or about to drown."
Lyra falls quiet after that. A moment later, she leans in and gently rests her head on Meira's shoulder. "A song to rest and end the day,"she murmurs. "That would be nice."
Eldrin stands still in the rising water, now swirling about his knees, the ripples broken only by floating debris and the lingering steam from the charred creature’s corpse. His eyes are fixed on the horned dwarven statue, iundisturbed by tremor, battle, or flood. The gem in its hand continuing to shimmer in temptation.
“Still intact,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “And entirely wrong.”
The tremors had passed, but the danger hadn't. He turns slowly as Meira approaches, her voice measured but edged with urgency.
Eldrin considers her question, the faintest twitch of a brow betraying his thought.
“I could,” he replies evenly, “but I would not. The gem radiates illusion. The statue, evocation. Both were made by magic, not merely enchanted. They are the trap, not just bait for one.”
His gaze shifts to the blocked western tunnel, still semi-passable. “If we try to tamper with it, we may not be contending with just more rubble.”
"Let's get to work here, comrades." With the halfling on his back, Zephyros furiously begins patching the cracks with sediment and coagulated blood.
After he does that, (assuming he succeeds before we all drown and die a horrible death) Zephyros begins excavating the fallen rubble.
With Eldrin's comment, and Lyra safely perched atop the chitinous creature they had just defeated, Meira goes to help Zephyros - first with patching the cracks as he directs, then simply moving rubble to the extent she is able. "If we all help this will be taken care of in no time!" she says. Then, looking up to Lyra she gives the halfling a smile, "Except for you of course. You just stay up there and out of the water!"
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
"I can help from up here a bit!" Lyra exclaims from Zephyros back. With her arms wrapped around the fighter's neck, she tries to give him a little divine push to help move the rubble away. Then she leans in and whispers, "I know you're not particularly fond of gods, but I hope you don't mind this little push!"
(ooc: not sure if Zephyros will need to make a roll, but Lyra gives him Guidance just in case)
Diving deep to the surface ♫ Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Eldrin exhales softly, flicking a strand of silver hair from his brow as the others begin working in earnest. The room continues to echo with the faint splashes of shifting feet and stone scraping against stone. His pale gaze lingers on the collapsed tunnel, then on the rising water, creeping higher by the minute.
He glances to Meira and Zephyros, already shoulder-deep in effort, and allows himself the faintest sigh of resignation.
“Manual labor,” he mutters, deadpan. “The unglamorous salvation of many a scholar.”
Stepping forward, he lifts the hem of his robe above the waterline and wades toward the rubble. His movements are careful and deliberate, but he does not shy away from the task. Instead, he assesses the tangle of stone with a critical eye, seeking cracks, balance points, and pressure paths with the same precision he applies to arcane diagrams.
“Remove that wedge first,” he says quietly to Zephyros, nodding toward a fractured slab. “It’s supporting a precarious angle above. If it shifts the wrong way, we may end up with more tunnel than air.”
As he crouches beside the fighter, eyes narrowing in thought. With a flick of his fingers, a subtle shimmer of arcane energy flickers along the stone as Prestidigitation clears the mud and grime from its surface. Beneath the muck, a thin fracture reveals itself.
“Ah. There it is. A clean edge reveals more than brute force ever will,” he murmurs, glancing sidelong at Zephyros and Meira already hard at work.
With another quick gesture, he marks a nearby stone with a faint violet glow, barely visible, but enough to serve as a warning. “Avoid this one for now,” he instructs. “The pressure’s uneven on the left. Dislodge it too early and it could collapse the whole face.”
Eldrin doesn’t strain or grunt as he works, instead, he moves with measured efficiency. When he pauses, it’s only to dry his gloves or remove slick sediment from handholds with quick bursts of cantrip magic. He even conjures a small wisp of warmth to dry and slightly expand one of the colder, cracked stones.
“Not all strength comes from the arm,” he notes. “Sometimes, it lies in knowing which stone resents its place.”
He gives a sidelong glance to Lyra still perched atop the monster’s back. “And sometimes, it lies in knowing when to stay dry.”
Briefly glancing at the statue, still untouched, still watching, and adds under his breath, “And may the gods find it amusing how easily mortals are buried by their ruins.”
Zephyros whispers back to the young cleric, "Many thanks, my lady."
Hearing Eldrin's remark causes Zephyros to grant a respectful nod. "Aye, that is true. More often than not, knowing is most of the battle." The bear of a man continues working hastily, adding, "I appreciate your willingness to help how you can, given your... particular disdain for hard labor."
Zephyros then glances to the ranger and the paladin. The veteran gives an order, not in a commanding tone but calm, collected and as one seeking the betterment of his friends. "Would you two mind starting clearing out that collapsed tunnel? If we divide and conquer, we'll be out of here in no time."
Yarina is quick to get to work alongside Zephyros and Eldrin. She works diligently to clear the hallway, listening to Eldrin as he guides their actions (Athletics 22 & 14).
Gareth also doesn't shy away from the work and helps as best he can (Athletics 22 & 11).
Meira and Zephyros, you both plug the holes with water trickling in until nearly no water is seeping into the room. you then move to the hallway to assist with clearing the rubble. Please give me two Athletics checks with advantage, thanks to Eldrin's instructions. Zephyros, thanks to Lyra's guidance, you may also add a 1d4 to the results.
Eldrin, please give me an Arcana check with advantage as you utilize your knowledge of the weave to assist with the excavation.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
[OOC: Arcana check with advantage (16,7)+5=21]
The battle with the strange creature went quickly in their favor but not without some injuries. Gareth stanches a wound on his arm from where the monster had landed a bite. With the water climbing and the others discussing their various options, the ranger takes a quick moment to assess the creature for any suitable trophies he can collect. Then, if he has enough time, he'll carve something from the creature's shell. He also tries to recall anything he knows about this type of monster.
Nature - 20
Gareth helps Yarina and the others clear the Western passage. Sweat starts to form on his brow as he hauls stone after stone away to clear a path. The ranger gives Eldrin a nod as the wizard doesn't shy away from getting his hands dirty either. At least he has some sort of spell to clean them right up again. The elven wizard surprised him with his willingness to perform "manual labor," and Gareth had to give him credit for it.
As they continue their work, the ranger glances back toward Lyra, perched atop Zephyros' back. "I don't mind giving piggyback rides either, if you need a change of pace or Zephyros starts to get tired," he grins.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 4 Halfling Rogue (The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan - Lvl. 10 Half-Elf Sorcerer (Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Aasimar Paladin (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Selene Albion - Lvl. 12 Human Ranger (In-Person Homebrew Campaign) ♦ Phaerdra Tor'viir - Lvl. 3 Drow Wizard (Exandria Sandbox Campaign)
Gareth, you expertly remove a large chitin shell from the creature's shoulder. If processed correctly, its tough surface could make a useful shield or similar armor piece. You believe this trophy is worth taking. You recognize this creature as an Umber Hulk. However, this one looks to be an adolescent. You've read stories about these creatures scrambling minds and being extremely hard to fight, but this fight, as you put it, "...went quickly in their favor...". You believe this younger creature hadn't developed fully all of its capabilities.
[[Apologies for rolling your Athletics checks for you. I thought you were going to be out longer. Welcome back, and glad to have you.]]
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
((That's not a problem at all! I thought I would be too but playing D&D helps to keep me from dwelling on the sadness.))
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 4 Halfling Rogue (The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan - Lvl. 10 Half-Elf Sorcerer (Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Aasimar Paladin (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Selene Albion - Lvl. 12 Human Ranger (In-Person Homebrew Campaign) ♦ Phaerdra Tor'viir - Lvl. 3 Drow Wizard (Exandria Sandbox Campaign)
(Meira Atletics: 20, 14)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
"Excellent work, my friends!" Zephyros joyfully compliments his team's work performance.
Athletics 1: 26
Athletics 2: 16
Everyone,
DC 100 was collectively passed with 145 Athletics. It takes the group about four hours, roughly half the time, to clear the hallway enough to pass through. Just as you finish, the cracks in the eastern wall begin to leak water into the room, but you are walking out into the main temple area by now. Some of the rooms' water flows out into the temple beyond, but a large portion stays there thanks to a layer of rubble you left in place. You are all soaking wet and exhausted at this point. Outside, you see Norbus and Daslyn sleeping soundly on two sleeping mats near a small campfire.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Eldrin steps free of the final obstruction. His boots squelch with each step, sodden robes once fine and meticulously pressed, cling to his long frame.
His icy gaze settles on Norbus and Dazlyn, sprawled out by the fire, snoring contentedly.
Eldrin’s expression flattens.
He extends a hand, muttering an incantation in smooth, clipped Elvish. A faint shimmer of arcane light flickers at his fingertips before drifting through the air toward the dwarves. With a flick of his wrist, the an arcane hand gives Norbus a none-too-gentle poke in the ribs, then promptly swats Dazlyn’s foot with the sort of crisp precision that suggests deliberate satisfaction.
“Well,” he intones dryly, “behold an example of dwarven endurance, reliable, locked in a fierce battle with dreams, apparently.”
Eldrin continues, his voice even and unmistakably unimpressed. “While you were resting comfortably beside a fire, the rest of us were nearly drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple.”
He pauses, glancing around at the others with feigned thoughtfulness.
“But then, someone had to stay behind and make sure the fire didn’t, flee.”
Eldrin lets the silence linger just long enough for the weight of his sarcasm to settle over the waking dwarves.
Then, with a sigh, he steps back and surveys the disheveled group, soaked to the bone, muddy, scraped, and somehow still breathing.
“Well,” he mutters with arched brow, “this simply won’t do.”
With a flick of his wrist, arcane sigils dance around his fingers. A faint shimmer pulses through the air as water lifts from cloaks, mud vanishes from boots, and filth peels itself from armor. One by one, each of them is restored to something resembling dignity, though their exhaustion still hangs heavy in the air.
“Better,” Eldrin says, smoothing his sleeves with deliberate grace.
Gareth gives Eldrin a grateful smile as the wizard's spell removes the water and grime from his clothes and armor. It's amazing how much being dry and warm can really improve one's mood, the ranger muses ruefully. He stifles a grin as Eldrin unleashes his frustration on the sleeping dwarves, prodding them with his mage hand none too gently.
"Go easy on them," Gareth says, amusement in his tone. "We got drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple and survived. I doubt they would've gotten past the first chamber without being melted by the acid of those oozes."
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf - Lvl. 4 Halfling Rogue (The Shattered Obelisk) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan - Lvl. 10 Half-Elf Sorcerer (Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick - Lvl. 4 Aasimar Paladin (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Selene Albion - Lvl. 12 Human Ranger (In-Person Homebrew Campaign) ♦ Phaerdra Tor'viir - Lvl. 3 Drow Wizard (Exandria Sandbox Campaign)
"Well, someone's grumpy," Meira says with a chuckle as Eldrin berates the dwarves. She is though quite grateful when his magic helps dry her off. She quite sincerely tells him, "Thank you."
"I guess we aren't going to make it back to town tonight," she muses and immediately starts to look about for a spot she might be able to rest. Finding a spot for the moment where she can lean back comfortably against a stone, she sits upright, her dulcimer in hand. She starts plucking at the strings, slowly tuning them as the journey had seemed to have not been the best for the instrument. But soon she stums her thumb across all the strings. The melodic sound brings a faint smile to her face.
She starts to play a few chords, beginning a soft, slow song:
'Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower, leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!'
Her words stop as the strumming of the dulcimer continues. She glances pointedly at Gareth a moment, then the others. She seems to just be taking in what they are doing and perhaps gauging their reaction to her performance.
(Performance: 20, for what it's worth!)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Once outside, Lyra hops off Zephyros' back, clearly happy to be free from the temple—but even more delighted by the joy of the piggyback ride. She scoops up her soaked and dirty tunic with both hands and begins to curtsy, saying, "Many thanks, my Lord!" At that precise moment, Eldrin's magic comes through, transforming her messy clothes into a clean and dry version of themselves. She beams at the wizard. "Perfect timing!"
The cleric stifles a laugh as Eldrin begins to poke the sleeping Draves with his arcane hand, and decides to join in the fun. Holding her holy symbol in one hand, she whispers to Tymora, "Just a little bit of fun after all that fighting ..." Then, with a flick of her other hand, she conjures tremors in the earth just beneath the dwarves' bedrolls. Covering her face in mock alarm, she exclaims, "Gods above, is the ground here unstable as well!?"
A moment later, she settles beside Meira, listening to her beautiful song and clapping excitedly when it ends.
(OOC: "A Walking Song" by J.R.R. Tolkien! 😍)
Diving deep to the surface ♫ Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Meira seems quite aware of Lyra settling beside her, and she launches into the next two verses:
'Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!'
'Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!'
With the last word she plays a final soft chord, glancing over at Lyra a second before shifting to address Gareth. "I thought this a fitting song for you, sir. For you and your wandering spirit. And to the day when home is ahead and your Sylvie gets you back."
She seems to relax where she sits, fingers still lightly plucking at the strings. She almost whispers to Lyra, "My melodies are yours to command should you wish more. Though at some point we might all need to heed the song's final refrain."
(And yes, Tolkien's poem!)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Lyra rests her chin on one hand as Meira continues to play and sing, quietly exhaling. This, she thinks, is a good way to recover from what they've experienced in Abby's temple.
Her gaze follows Meira's hands as they dance across the dulcimer's strings, marveling at how precise each motion is—how not a single note is missed, even as she sings. But then it strikes her: it's not so different from casting magic. The movement of the hands, the focus, the rhythm, the voice. "This is like doing magic," she murmurs, "Music is magic!"
Then, with a mischievous grin, the halfling adds aloud, "Oh? Then I command you never to stop playing!" She pauses, then laughs. "Well… unless we're in the middle of a fight, or about to drown."
Lyra falls quiet after that. A moment later, she leans in and gently rests her head on Meira's shoulder. "A song to rest and end the day," she murmurs. "That would be nice."
Diving deep to the surface ♫ Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Arren | Lyra