The ranger is spellbound by Meira's song. He sits down next to her on the other side from Lyra, crossing his legs in front of him. He seems captivated by the song, and he smiles when Meira sings the final verses, although a quick swipe across his eyes shows that he might have choked up a bit too.
"That was beautiful," he says sincerely. "Thank you. You have a lovely voice."
Gareth smiles at Lyra's enthusiasm. "Music really is a form of magic. Even in a dark place like this, in the shadow of a temple to a god of greed, it has the power to raise our spirits and bolster us for any challenges that lay ahead."
Eldrin stands off to the side as Meira plays, his posture as composed as ever, arms folded neatly, expression unreadable save for a faint flicker in his eyes.
Fascinating, he muses silently, watching her hands dance over the dulcimer’s strings. No runes. No incantations. No ritual circles etched in starlight. Just, sound.
He had studied ancient elven laments that could soothe beasts, read scrolls on the enchantments of minstrels from fallen courts, even memorized footnotes about bardic lore, but this? This was not theory. This was real.
He glances at Meira, eyes closed in song, her dulcimer singing softly under calloused fingers, and feels an unexpected twinge in his chest. How many songs like this have I dismissed?How many performances I tuned out in favor of parchment and ink?
The dulcimer’s final note hangs in the air.
“Knowledge is power,”he thinks, “but there is power too in the shaping of emotion, in the subtle shift of mood one can conjure with nothing but heart and melody. No wonder the ancients feared bards as much as they revered them.”
At last, he speaks aloud, quietly, with a tone gentler than usual.
“Well played, Meira,”Eldrin says, bowing his head slightly. “A fitting tune for our motley band of wanderers, and a reminder that even the edge of night can be softened by song.”
You walk outside to reunite with Norbus and Dazlyn. The night air is cool, but not colder than the previous icy room you were exposed to. The canyon walls loom up on both sides of you, ominous and brooding—a dark contrast to the night sky above, scattered with a spattering of stars. The campfire flames flicker and dance, sending smoke and quickly dying embers into the air above.
Norbus lets out a gasp as he is poked in the ribs by Eldrin's mage hand, "Oof..". Dazlyn stirs awake as his booted foot is slapped in a similar fashion. Both dwarves snores die quickly as they begin rubbing the sleep from their eyes. However, before they collect their wits, the ground beneath them trembles from Lyra's thaumaturgy. Both dwarves jump to their feet and begin to look around the camp. Norbus warns everyone, "Watch out for falling rocks!" When the dwarves realize the adventures are having a bit of fun, they calm down and sit back down at the fire. Norbus scowls at everyone, not too thrilled at being the recipient of pranks. Dazlyn is more forgiving and smiles at you all. Both dwarves watch in awe as Eldrin cleans up the group. They look at themselves in comparison, covered in dirt and grime.
Norbus: "That be a fine spell, master wizard. Impressive." His scowl softens ever so slightly.
Dazlyn: "So ye made it back out in one piece. Glad to see it. But were ye successful? Drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple. Sounds terrible. Glad it was you and not me." He winks as he finishes his sentence. He continues, "Well, we're dwarves of our word. Here are the stones we agreed to give. And once the excavation is complete, we'll send half of what we find to the Phandalin Inn's proprietor to give to you... What's his name?" The dwarf looks to Norbus as he ponders. He then hands both sending stones to Eldrin.
Norbus: "Toby or Tony I think."
The night wears on as Meira plays her song. The dwarves listen, enraptured by it. Dazlyn mumbles to himself, "Voice of an angel."
Yarina responds to the dwarves' inquiry regarding the name of the Inn's proprietor: "It's Toblin." Her tone is icy and cold. She doesn't sit with the rest of the group. She walks over to the gap in the wall to the west and peers out into the darkness.
Your performance lightens the mood, providing the party with much-needed respite after a grueling dungeon crawl, and inspires the entire group to press on with renewed vigor.
Everyone in the party receives inspiration. You may reroll one d20 of your choice prior to knowing the results.
Meira chuckles lightly when Lyra suggests she never stop playing. "Well! If that is your command I will try!"
It is clear that the young woman revels in the accolades and the enjoyment the others seem to get from her songs. She keeps looking about, taking in all the reactions.
Later, as the halfling rests her head on her shoulder, the music falters for just an instant. But the notes of a gently lullaby then begin. "One more, to send you off to sleep." After a long intro, she sings softly:
'A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain Softly blows o'er lullaby bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting-- Waiting to sail your worries away.'
There is a short instrumental ending, and then Meira's music goes quiet. She stays still where she sits, seeming to enjoy the silence.
Zephyros heads outside with the others. His face betrays the disproval he feels as Eldrin magics the dwarves awake. The furrows in his brow grows deeper as Lyra join in on the fun, but the armored man makes no effort to scold or voice his opinion. As Zephyros walks over to the dwarves, he immediately begins scanning the ridgeline for movement (Perception 6), but quickly realizes it would be difficult to see anyone so far away in the night's darkness.
"Master dwarves, your temple has been cleared of monsters. However, there is a horned dwarven statue I would warn you about. For your own safety, please don't take the glowing green gem. I fear it would be your doom."
The bull of a man then goes quiet as Meirabegins singing and playing her instrument. He too walks past the group to join Yarina near the western wall. He soaks in the music, but can't relax as his muscles tense. His grip tightens on his trident. In a hushed tone so as to not disturb the others, he asks Yarina, "Everything okay? Do you see anything?" Zephyros again looks to the west with renewed determination to keep this group safe. 'Let them have their rest. I'll keep watch. I won't lose them... like I lost her. That will never happen again.'
His thoughts about his lost love distract him from truly scanning for movement, but he maintains his post. Enjoying the momentary respite.
"Master dwarves, your temple has been cleared of monsters. However, there is a horned dwarven statue I would warn you about. For your own safety, please don't take the glowing green gem. I fear it would be your doom."
...he asks Yarina, "Everything okay? Do you see anything?"
Norbus responds, "A glowing green gem you say? Thanks for the warning, sir."
Yarina glances at the warrior and says, "I don't know. This temple has disturbed me deeply. I don't feel my connection to Bahamut like I should. No, I don't see anything." Yarina then walks over next to the fire and sits down to rest for the night after taking off her armor.
You also don't see any movement in the darkness beyond, but you remain at your post as the rest of the group rests.
You settle in to rest for the remainder of the night. The fire begins to burn low, and you fall asleep with the sweet sound of Meira's music still fresh in your mind.
Somewhere in the middle of Meira's melody—maybe during the part about the breeze or the waiting boats—her eyes flutter shut. The warmth of the fire and the softness of Meira's voice lull her quickly, like someone pulling a blanket up to her chin.
The halfling's breathing evens out, and her head settles a little more against Meira's shoulder. There's the faintest smile on her lips, as she is dreaming, perhaps, of a song about worries that sail away.
Not wishing to disturb Lyra, Meira gently placed her dulcimer to her other side when done. Sitting comfortably at least, she tries to relax without moving much. For a moment, she glances over at the halfling, but soon she is asleep herself after all the adventures of this day.
Suddenly feeling exhausted from a long and adventurous day, Gareth unslings his bedroll from his pack and lays it out on the ground near the fire Dazlyn and Norbus had created. Uncomfortable though it is, he doesn't take off his armor. That's long been his rule. If he is sleeping under the stars on a hunt, he will keep his armor on, because you never knew when a hungry owlbear might try to go for a midnight snack. It doesn't take long for the ranger to fall asleep and start snoring quietly, armor on and all. It really had been a long and exciting day.
The troubled fighter slowly inhales through his nostrils, and exhales briefly with his mouth.
While his mind still ponders his wife, he does not forget his duty.
However, fatigue seems to nullify the veteran's keen senses. Scanning the horizons over and over again, only to find the same thing- everlasting darkness.
After realizing it would be insanity to attempt to see through the dark, Zephyros tries to listen intently.
Hearing nothing except soft music and later, occasional snores and only the subtle crack of the campfire, the dedicated man struggles to stay awake.
Ironheart steps forward about 5 feet past the gap in the towering stone walls. As a test of endurance, the veteran then places his trident in front of him and holds it upright above the ground.
Hoping a physical challenge distracts him from weariness and placing his body as a shield in front of the path to his friends, Zephyros remains certain that none will fall under his watch.
"Rest assured, comrades,"Zephyros barely gives a whisper, his voice deep as the tides. "The Heart of Iron guards your peace tonight."
As the fire dwindles and the stars wheel overhead, Eldrin stirs from his trance. He rises slowly, fluidly, the folds of his robes falling into place. His pale features catch the faint starlight, eyes open, clear, and untouched by sleep. A quiet moment passes, then he moves soundlessly toward the edge of the ruins where Zephyros stands watch.
The fighter's silhouette is rigid, his trident planted before him like a ward against the dark. Eldrin approaches with deliberate ease, the soft tread of his boots nearly silent on the stone.
“Ironheart,” he says by way of greeting, voice low and measured, “you look as though you are about to duel the night itself.”
He stops a few paces away, hands clasped lightly behind his back. There’s a trace of dry amusement in his tone, but it softens as he continues.
“I do not sleep, not in the way you do. Four hours of meditation and I am restored, an enviable trait, I know.” His lips curl into the ghost of a smile. “But it leaves me with the better part of the night to contemplate existence… or perhaps offer my eyes to those who lack the gift of seeing through this gloom.”
He gestures faintly toward the darkness beyond the ruined walls. “You may rest now if you wish, or we can share the silence”
Eldrin moves to stand beside him, gazing out into the dark.
For tonight, at least, he keeps vigil not as a scholar, but as a companion.
Ironheart's veins bulge, his arms quivering and losing their strength. As high elven wizard approaches, the fierce warrior's trident ever-so-slowly begins to sink to the ground, Zephyros' well-muscled arms fighting every last urge to give into weakness.
After Eldrin greets Ironheart, the soldier grimaces under intense trial."Then we stand together, brother."Zephyros gruffly says, implying he is staying awake.
You're able to hold your trident aloft for the better part of four hours. Just as Eldrin joins you, your strength gives out and the butt of your polearm hits the ground with a dull thud. Two hours after you respond to Eldrin, you believe your hear some footsteps in the ruined settlement to the West but your uncertain if it's just your exhausted mind playing tricks on you.
Eldrin,
As you stand watch with Zephyros, you're certain you see some movement in the ruined settlement. Not only that, but you hear footsteps and the muffled clanking and creaking of metal and leather. You also hear someone talking in a low guttural language you don't understand.
Zephyros & Eldrin,
From the ruins, four large humanoids charge at you and two arrows come flying out of the darkness. One arrow embeds itself into Zephyros' shield while the other flies just past Eldrin's head and shatters on the wall behind him. One of the humanoids yells in common, "Time to die elf scum!"
"Uhhh, what..? What is…?"Lyrais suddenly shaken from her much-needed rest, and from a very pleasant dream. In the heartbeat that follows, before she's even registered what woke her, the cleric finds Meira sleeping beside her. She smiles lightly, but not for long, as the guttural speech reaches her ears. Are those ... orcs? What is going on? A fight? Now?
Lyra bolts upright. She's still a little lost, the dream still clinging to her like fog, but she knows it's time to act. And maybe it's because of the danger, sharp and sudden, or maybe just the jolt of surprise, but in that moment she feels her goddess's presence more strongly than ever. Soothing and playful. Daring, even. A familiar spark that seems to be whispering: Go on, try something new.
Without thinking, Lyra grabs the silver coin etched with shamrocks. Her fingers dance through the air like she's pulling a trick from a hidden sleeve. Shadows twist. Light skips. And suddenly—there she is. A perfect copy of herself, standing just a few feet away, grinning exactly the way everyone's seen Lyra do.
"Well, this is either divine magic or a just-got-yanked-out-of-a-dream hallucination… Either way, I'm keeping her!", she mutters, delighted.
Action: Channel Divinity (Invoke duplicity) Movement: Lyra moves to (1) and her duplicate appears in (2)
The ranger is spellbound by Meira's song. He sits down next to her on the other side from Lyra, crossing his legs in front of him. He seems captivated by the song, and he smiles when Meira sings the final verses, although a quick swipe across his eyes shows that he might have choked up a bit too.
"That was beautiful," he says sincerely. "Thank you. You have a lovely voice."
Gareth smiles at Lyra's enthusiasm. "Music really is a form of magic. Even in a dark place like this, in the shadow of a temple to a god of greed, it has the power to raise our spirits and bolster us for any challenges that lay ahead."
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
Eldrin stands off to the side as Meira plays, his posture as composed as ever, arms folded neatly, expression unreadable save for a faint flicker in his eyes.
Fascinating, he muses silently, watching her hands dance over the dulcimer’s strings. No runes. No incantations. No ritual circles etched in starlight. Just, sound.
He had studied ancient elven laments that could soothe beasts, read scrolls on the enchantments of minstrels from fallen courts, even memorized footnotes about bardic lore, but this? This was not theory. This was real.
He glances at Meira, eyes closed in song, her dulcimer singing softly under calloused fingers, and feels an unexpected twinge in his chest. How many songs like this have I dismissed? How many performances I tuned out in favor of parchment and ink?
The dulcimer’s final note hangs in the air.
“Knowledge is power,” he thinks, “but there is power too in the shaping of emotion, in the subtle shift of mood one can conjure with nothing but heart and melody. No wonder the ancients feared bards as much as they revered them.”
At last, he speaks aloud, quietly, with a tone gentler than usual.
“Well played, Meira,” Eldrin says, bowing his head slightly. “A fitting tune for our motley band of wanderers, and a reminder that even the edge of night can be softened by song.”
Everyone,
You walk outside to reunite with Norbus and Dazlyn. The night air is cool, but not colder than the previous icy room you were exposed to. The canyon walls loom up on both sides of you, ominous and brooding—a dark contrast to the night sky above, scattered with a spattering of stars. The campfire flames flicker and dance, sending smoke and quickly dying embers into the air above.
Norbus lets out a gasp as he is poked in the ribs by Eldrin's mage hand, "Oof..". Dazlyn stirs awake as his booted foot is slapped in a similar fashion. Both dwarves snores die quickly as they begin rubbing the sleep from their eyes. However, before they collect their wits, the ground beneath them trembles from Lyra's thaumaturgy. Both dwarves jump to their feet and begin to look around the camp. Norbus warns everyone, "Watch out for falling rocks!" When the dwarves realize the adventures are having a bit of fun, they calm down and sit back down at the fire. Norbus scowls at everyone, not too thrilled at being the recipient of pranks. Dazlyn is more forgiving and smiles at you all. Both dwarves watch in awe as Eldrin cleans up the group. They look at themselves in comparison, covered in dirt and grime.
Norbus: "That be a fine spell, master wizard. Impressive." His scowl softens ever so slightly.
Dazlyn: "So ye made it back out in one piece. Glad to see it. But were ye successful? Drowned, clawed apart, and crushed beneath a collapsing temple. Sounds terrible. Glad it was you and not me." He winks as he finishes his sentence. He continues, "Well, we're dwarves of our word. Here are the stones we agreed to give. And once the excavation is complete, we'll send half of what we find to the Phandalin Inn's proprietor to give to you... What's his name?" The dwarf looks to Norbus as he ponders. He then hands both sending stones to Eldrin.
Norbus: "Toby or Tony I think."
The night wears on as Meira plays her song. The dwarves listen, enraptured by it. Dazlyn mumbles to himself, "Voice of an angel."
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Yarina responds to the dwarves' inquiry regarding the name of the Inn's proprietor: "It's Toblin." Her tone is icy and cold. She doesn't sit with the rest of the group. She walks over to the gap in the wall to the west and peers out into the darkness.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Meira,
Your performance lightens the mood, providing the party with much-needed respite after a grueling dungeon crawl, and inspires the entire group to press on with renewed vigor.
Everyone in the party receives inspiration. You may reroll one d20 of your choice prior to knowing the results.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Meira chuckles lightly when Lyra suggests she never stop playing. "Well! If that is your command I will try!"
It is clear that the young woman revels in the accolades and the enjoyment the others seem to get from her songs. She keeps looking about, taking in all the reactions.
Later, as the halfling rests her head on her shoulder, the music falters for just an instant. But the notes of a gently lullaby then begin. "One more, to send you off to sleep." After a long intro, she sings softly:
'A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain
Softly blows o'er lullaby bay.
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting--
Waiting to sail your worries away.'
There is a short instrumental ending, and then Meira's music goes quiet. She stays still where she sits, seeming to enjoy the silence.
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 || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Zephyros heads outside with the others. His face betrays the disproval he feels as Eldrin magics the dwarves awake. The furrows in his brow grows deeper as Lyra join in on the fun, but the armored man makes no effort to scold or voice his opinion. As Zephyros walks over to the dwarves, he immediately begins scanning the ridgeline for movement (Perception 6), but quickly realizes it would be difficult to see anyone so far away in the night's darkness.
"Master dwarves, your temple has been cleared of monsters. However, there is a horned dwarven statue I would warn you about. For your own safety, please don't take the glowing green gem. I fear it would be your doom."
The bull of a man then goes quiet as Meira begins singing and playing her instrument. He too walks past the group to join Yarina near the western wall. He soaks in the music, but can't relax as his muscles tense. His grip tightens on his trident. In a hushed tone so as to not disturb the others, he asks Yarina, "Everything okay? Do you see anything?" Zephyros again looks to the west with renewed determination to keep this group safe. 'Let them have their rest. I'll keep watch. I won't lose them... like I lost her. That will never happen again.'
His thoughts about his lost love distract him from truly scanning for movement, but he maintains his post. Enjoying the momentary respite.
Inspiration Perception: 11
Norbus responds, "A glowing green gem you say? Thanks for the warning, sir."
Yarina glances at the warrior and says, "I don't know. This temple has disturbed me deeply. I don't feel my connection to Bahamut like I should. No, I don't see anything." Yarina then walks over next to the fire and sits down to rest for the night after taking off her armor.
You also don't see any movement in the darkness beyond, but you remain at your post as the rest of the group rests.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Everyone except Zephyros,
You settle in to rest for the remainder of the night. The fire begins to burn low, and you fall asleep with the sweet sound of Meira's music still fresh in your mind.
Zephyros,
Please give me one more perception check.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Lyra doesn't hear the end of the song.
Somewhere in the middle of Meira's melody—maybe during the part about the breeze or the waiting boats—her eyes flutter shut. The warmth of the fire and the softness of Meira's voice lull her quickly, like someone pulling a blanket up to her chin.
The halfling's breathing evens out, and her head settles a little more against Meira's shoulder. There's the faintest smile on her lips, as she is dreaming, perhaps, of a song about worries that sail away.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Not wishing to disturb Lyra, Meira gently placed her dulcimer to her other side when done. Sitting comfortably at least, she tries to relax without moving much. For a moment, she glances over at the halfling, but soon she is asleep herself after all the adventures of this day.
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 || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Suddenly feeling exhausted from a long and adventurous day, Gareth unslings his bedroll from his pack and lays it out on the ground near the fire Dazlyn and Norbus had created. Uncomfortable though it is, he doesn't take off his armor. That's long been his rule. If he is sleeping under the stars on a hunt, he will keep his armor on, because you never knew when a hungry owlbear might try to go for a midnight snack. It doesn't take long for the ranger to fall asleep and start snoring quietly, armor on and all. It really had been a long and exciting day.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
The troubled fighter slowly inhales through his nostrils, and exhales briefly with his mouth.
While his mind still ponders his wife, he does not forget his duty.
However, fatigue seems to nullify the veteran's keen senses. Scanning the horizons over and over again, only to find the same thing- everlasting darkness.
After realizing it would be insanity to attempt to see through the dark, Zephyros tries to listen intently.
Hearing nothing except soft music and later, occasional snores and only the subtle crack of the campfire, the dedicated man struggles to stay awake.
Ironheart steps forward about 5 feet past the gap in the towering stone walls. As a test of endurance, the veteran then places his trident in front of him and holds it upright above the ground.
Hoping a physical challenge distracts him from weariness and placing his body as a shield in front of the path to his friends, Zephyros remains certain that none will fall under his watch.
"Rest assured, comrades," Zephyros barely gives a whisper, his voice deep as the tides. "The Heart of Iron guards your peace tonight."
Perception: 8
As the fire dwindles and the stars wheel overhead, Eldrin stirs from his trance. He rises slowly, fluidly, the folds of his robes falling into place. His pale features catch the faint starlight, eyes open, clear, and untouched by sleep. A quiet moment passes, then he moves soundlessly toward the edge of the ruins where Zephyros stands watch.
The fighter's silhouette is rigid, his trident planted before him like a ward against the dark. Eldrin approaches with deliberate ease, the soft tread of his boots nearly silent on the stone.
“Ironheart,” he says by way of greeting, voice low and measured, “you look as though you are about to duel the night itself.”
He stops a few paces away, hands clasped lightly behind his back. There’s a trace of dry amusement in his tone, but it softens as he continues.
“I do not sleep, not in the way you do. Four hours of meditation and I am restored, an enviable trait, I know.” His lips curl into the ghost of a smile. “But it leaves me with the better part of the night to contemplate existence… or perhaps offer my eyes to those who lack the gift of seeing through this gloom.”
He gestures faintly toward the darkness beyond the ruined walls. “You may rest now if you wish, or we can share the silence”
Eldrin moves to stand beside him, gazing out into the dark.
For tonight, at least, he keeps vigil not as a scholar, but as a companion.
Zephyros,
Please give me a strength or constitution saving throw, your choice.
Eldrin,
Please give me a perception check.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Perception check: 13+3=16
Constitution saving throw: 21
Ironheart's veins bulge, his arms quivering and losing their strength. As high elven wizard approaches, the fierce warrior's trident ever-so-slowly begins to sink to the ground, Zephyros' well-muscled arms fighting every last urge to give into weakness.
After Eldrin greets Ironheart, the soldier grimaces under intense trial. "Then we stand together, brother." Zephyros gruffly says, implying he is staying awake.
Zephyros,
You're able to hold your trident aloft for the better part of four hours. Just as Eldrin joins you, your strength gives out and the butt of your polearm hits the ground with a dull thud. Two hours after you respond to Eldrin, you believe your hear some footsteps in the ruined settlement to the West but your uncertain if it's just your exhausted mind playing tricks on you.
Eldrin,
As you stand watch with Zephyros, you're certain you see some movement in the ruined settlement. Not only that, but you hear footsteps and the muffled clanking and creaking of metal and leather. You also hear someone talking in a low guttural language you don't understand.
Zephyros & Eldrin,
From the ruins, four large humanoids charge at you and two arrows come flying out of the darkness. One arrow embeds itself into Zephyros' shield while the other flies just past Eldrin's head and shatters on the wall behind him. One of the humanoids yells in common, "Time to die elf scum!"
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Combat begins: Surprise round
Orc's have already gone. Eldrin is up!
Combat continues, Round one initiative:
The party is startled awake by the sounds of battle! Everyone except Zephyros had benefited from a long rest.
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
"Uhhh, what..? What is…?" Lyra is suddenly shaken from her much-needed rest, and from a very pleasant dream. In the heartbeat that follows, before she's even registered what woke her, the cleric finds Meira sleeping beside her. She smiles lightly, but not for long, as the guttural speech reaches her ears. Are those ... orcs? What is going on? A fight? Now?
Lyra bolts upright. She's still a little lost, the dream still clinging to her like fog, but she knows it's time to act. And maybe it's because of the danger, sharp and sudden, or maybe just the jolt of surprise, but in that moment she feels her goddess's presence more strongly than ever. Soothing and playful. Daring, even. A familiar spark that seems to be whispering: Go on, try something new.
Without thinking, Lyra grabs the silver coin etched with shamrocks. Her fingers dance through the air like she's pulling a trick from a hidden sleeve. Shadows twist. Light skips. And suddenly—there she is. A perfect copy of herself, standing just a few feet away, grinning exactly the way everyone's seen Lyra do.
"Well, this is either divine magic or a just-got-yanked-out-of-a-dream hallucination… Either way, I'm keeping her!", she mutters, delighted.
Action: Channel Divinity (Invoke duplicity)
Movement: Lyra moves to (1) and her duplicate appears in (2)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra