Eyes wide, Vakas looks on in horror as her wounds start to knit together! Following a hunch, he calls out to the others, “Abomination! Burn her with fire, if you can!” Then he swings away..
Short sword : 23 to hit, for 5 points of piercing damage.
Dagger, Nick attack with the same action : (Crit!) 26 to hit, for 7 points of piercing damage.
Off hand dagger : 9 to hit, for 2 points of damage.
Sneak attack damage in light of Dealuri in melee : 3 points of damage.
Total of 15 points of damage.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Her head aching from the necrotic damage, Dealuri registers the call for fire. She reaches into her pack and pulls out a flask of oil. She then attempts to dump it on to the hag in an attempt to toast her (but rolls a nat 1 +4, treating this as an unarmed melee attack).
OOC: Thannadol would you mind editing your post and popping in what you rolled to get the miss please :) I am especially interested if it were a Nat 1 as your colleague just fumbled with a pot of oil...As soon as Rachus chimes in I'll bring it all together ready for your turn Skritch. That's if she is still standing lol, you are all doing some decent damage here!
Rachus your spell is swallowed by her magic this time around, the shimmering light blinking out, just as the glow you inflicted her with finally begins to fade.
Vakas you continue to slice and stab into her exposed back, reopening wounds and inflicting new ones to join them. Ribbons of putrid flesh fall away as you cut into her again and again, beginning to sag beneath the onslaught.
Dealuri you reach into your pack but your mind is still reeling from her attack and the arm she grasped is feeling strangely numb. You fumble with the flask as you try to empty it over her and its content is mostly splashed over yourself and the floor at your feet.
Thannadol you release your firebolt but it flies wide as her shadowed protection seems to bat the spell away into the darkness.
The old woman screams; raw, furious, and full of pain. Her eyes blaze red, burning with some dark inner fire. Blood soaks her robes, but she does not fall. She mutters words too old for mortal tongues and spreads her arms wide.
“Fine,” she hisses. “Keep the bloody caaaa—aa—t!”
Then her body begins to twist. Skin bubbles, bones crack, and fur bursts through her flesh. With a sickening sound, she splits apart—her form breaking into a writhing mass of rats. The swarm explodes outward, hissing and chittering, vanishing into the night like smoke on the wind. The woman is gone. Only the scurrying remains.
Dealuri you hear soft laughter in the back of your mind and then a motherly voice speaks, "See you soon my sweet, sweet girl." a sharp pinching pain causes you to look down at your arm where she grasped you and you see a black handprint staining the skin about your wrist.
So shocking were the final moments of the battle that you are only now noticing that the scarecrow has ceased its screaming. The hour is now late and you must soon rest or risk the perils of exhaustion on the morrow, though you may deem that a worthy cost to put some distance between yourselves and the site of this horror?
OOC WORLD LORE: While you all gather you whit's and decide what you want to do next I thought I would share a little knowledge about the world you are adventuring in.
Nyrgard
The World Beyond the Ragnarök
A thousand years have passed since the cataclysm of Ragnarök, the final war that shattered the heavens and sundered the world tree. The old gods are no more, their thrones reduced to dust, their voices mere whispers in the void. Yet from the ashes of the fallen realms, a new land has risen. Nyrgard, forged in the embers of the past, a realm of both ruin and rebirth, where destiny awaits those bold enough to seize it.
You currently adventure on the southern borderlands of Athrillan, The Dawn lands of the east and the cradle of humanity. A land of rolling hills and golden meadows where the first human survivors of Ragnarök made their homes. It is here on the eastern shores that the mortal survivors of the old world, landed their ships and planted the first seeds of a new civilization. The closest large city is the port of Caemyr a weeks march east if Dunwarren where you started this adventure.
Your current journey south takes you toward the lands of Helgeroth, The Black Wastes. Once the final battlefield of an ancient magical war, its ashen plains still crackle with divine energy. There, the spirits of the fallen gods whisper in the wind.
That's all for now. I will copy this into the campaign notes and expand as we go. Remember you can always ask questions in game with a relevant roll to expand your knowledge...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Skritch checks himself all over to make sure he still has all his fur. Yuppers.
Next he checks Sunhill and then the other mounts to make sure they aren't too traumatised. He uses his own innate telepathy, and Druidcraft to create a soothing environ for them if needed, pleasant natural smells, delicious (to horses) flowers for the horses to nibble on, etc.
If it looks like any of them are going to be trouble, and the party don't want to get the hell out of Dodge, I can ritual cast Speak with Animals to soothe them.
Of course, if they're fine, pls ignore the above.
Into Vakas' mind, him having been in the hag's haghome, Skritch says, "Loot n leave?"
And then, to the rest of the group, "I have one more spell in me, I think. Anyone need aHealing Word?" (OOC: If they do, they're healed for 6 and I'll cross off my other spell slot)
Looking around at all the dwellings, Skritch admits to himself that he does love a sleep on a comfy rug or chair, but he grew up sleeping in tree hollows, he'll be able to get a long rest when the group wants one, wherever we end up...
"Oh, hush up," Dealuri says to the voice in her head. Followed by, "Ack! Out damned spot, out!" Dealuri is more unhappy with the physical mark than the mental connection she now has with the hag, possibly because there is little mental for the hag to connect with. Speaking of which, "So wait, was she a she, or was she a collection of rats in a dress? Oh, whatever. She did hurt me, so I'm glad she is gone. I'd be grateful for the healing if no one else needs it more." She looks herself up and down and then does a quick sniff, at which point she remembers a key fact. "Also, I need to get out of these robes that are covered with oil." And she removes the robe and the danger of turning herself into a human torch.
OOC: Ok so far I am reading; search, move and find a campsite?
Thannadol, a brief study tells you that the old woman left no remains from her transformation, what ever she had went with the rats. You enter the house to continue your search. Immediately you see that the scarecrow has fallen to the ground and lies there immobile and above the fireplace the glass jars that once held severed heads have all shattered, releasing their horrific contents to spill and crack upon the ground. (With a 22) you discover the following items:
On the nearby table :
A Jar of Preserved Eyeballs: Dozens of eyes, each from a different species, float in a viscous black fluid. Some blink occasionally. A necromancer might use them for remote viewing or to see into the spirit realm.
A Scroll Bound in Tanned Flesh : An ancient scroll made from stitched-together patches of tanned humanoid skin. It contains forbidden rites of soul-binding and names of the dead who have not yet rested. It would take some study to understand and make use of this.
Thread of Undeath : Used to make the scarecrows, A spool of silvery-black thread used to stitch together corpses. When sewn properly, it binds the soul to the flesh, reanimating the body into a loyal servant.
All very useful items to a wizard dabbling in necromancy. Thannadol can either take these items or leave them for others. Is anyone else searching the house or the wider village before moving on to find a campsite?
Rachus breathes a sigh of relief as the party seems to have the upper hand but then his breath catches in his throat as the foul lady turned into a mound of rats. A jolt of fear traveled through his spine, and thoughts of being consumed by thousands of rats raced in his mind. He had to remind himself to breathe again once they scattered. Rachus then calmly walked back to his pony stroking its fuzzy hide not to just comfort the horse but himself too. "As promised, I will give you a name brave Pony. How about Hoofy" the pony stamps its hoof "is that a no, hmm ... how about Clio" The pony then nuzzles Rachus. "Ha, I knew I could find a name for you. Did you know Clio was known as a muse of sorts to historians and poets."
Then he registered what his companions were saying " Ah yes let's move on from this dreary place and find a nice campsite" He has no interest in searching more of this dark village and will mount Clio and wait for the others to be ready to depart. Once it is time he will nudge his pony forward.
Skritch, riding Sunhill, does a trot around, looking in any of the places that are easy to get to, ie doors or windows open, easy to flee from, etc.
He's trusting to his night vision and Sunhill's nose (Investigation: 1-1=0. Perception: 4+3=7) So, er, no...
Then he wheels Sunhill around, chitters, "Yah! Yah! Yippy-kai-ay, mother, er, buckets!" and heads out of town with the rest of the party in search of a safe place to camp.
((Sorry for the delayed post, love the imagery, I've actually been shocked and contemplating how Vakas would respond...))
Vakas walks backwards as the rats disperse, jaw dropping open in a "we're not in Dunwarren anymore" moment. He slowly bends down, wiping his short sword and dagger on the ground before sheathing them. He takes hold of the reins of his horse Vincent, patting him on the side and trying to calm him from such a horrible sight. He finds a place to tie him up as he considers what to do next. "In there... you have to see what I saw in there..." The eyes staring at him. The faces in the jars. He knows they will haunt his dreams tonight.
He watches as Thannadol searches the house, uncovering items that he only quickly saw in a glimpse of a moment. He holds out his hand a moment, when Thannadol moves to gather up the evil things. "I wouldn't touch that. You should have seen the eyes inside that scarecrow. These things are evil, and you could be promoting the practice of a necromancer. I won't have it, no matter how much money you make from that, it will be put toward evil ends. Look, I'm all about making a coin or two, or three or four. But I've never seen anything like this. It can't be purchased and used by some other diseased soul to do horrible things to people. No, it must burn. Like the rest of this evil filled shack. I'm not leaving here until that is done."
Vakas looks for any other flammable objects, using some of his oil if needed, but hoping to repurpose things in the hovel to set this place ablaze. He breaks out his flint and tinder, setting it alight, saying "Good riddance!" as he does so. Then, gently, and with no reproach or hard feelings, takes the items from Thannadol if he will give them up and places them on the fire to burn...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
When Skritch sees the shaken Vakas attempting to set the haghovel alight at the same time as Thanadol collects what he can of the things Vakas wants to burn, he sits back in his saddle and chews at some acorn he gad been storing in one of his cheeks.
Peeps will be, er, peeps, he thinks to himself.
And also, mm, this acorn tastes goooood...!
Soon enough they'll be done with their shenanigans. And then we can look for a downtime locale.
OOC: Given that Thannadol can not post until Monday we can play out what happened to the items in retrospect. Perhaps send a DM and then refer back to it in a future post?
The flames climb into the night like desperate fingers, crackling and spitting sparks into the black sky. Behind you, the nameless village is lit up by the smouldering house, its silence more telling than any scarecrow scream. The old woman’s handiwork lingers in your minds. Whatever tale the poor souls of this place might have told would now remain a mystery.
It is late. Overhead, a pale sliver of moon cuts through the low clouds like a blade through wool, casting a wan and flickering light across the road ahead. The air smells of smoke, wet earth, and something fouler still—something that clings to your cloaks and your thoughts.
A few miles south, you come upon a clearing at the edge of a tanglewood forest, the trees huddle together like old men whispering secrets. You make camp here, too tired to speak much, too wary to forget what you’ve seen.
Sleep finds you soon enough, heavy and dream-thick. But there is no peace in it. Your dreams stink of blood and cinders, of screaming horrors and grinning corpses, and of a darkness yet to come that no fire can hold back.
OOC: Does anyone have anything they want to get done or said before we move on to the next day?
Dealuri throws her oil-stained robe on the fire and thinks she will need to pick up a new one at the next town. That night though, the robe chased after her in her dreams, waving its sleeves that were on fire. Just when the dream-robe was about to catch her, the black mark on her arm tingled and she heard the old hag say, Jump, sweetie, which she did, causing the robe to disappear. Then the hag laughed maniacally and Dealuri woke up.
Skritch curls up next to Sunhill to stay warm, plus to keep his dog feeling safe.
A night's rest is much needed for such a newbie druid. Spells burn up so quickly...
In his sleep, Skritch dreams of his cousins and kith, playing in the branches of Yggdrasill... then of him falling... so slow surely one of them will b able to catch him.
Then he lands. In something soft, thank Freya.
Then the something soft squirms. Rats. So many rats. Too many to Speak with Animals to...
Then he wakes and it's time for his watch.
That's good. I wanted to, er, wake up now anyway, he thinks.
He does his turn, watching from a low tree branch...
Besides the fitful dreams that haunt you the night is uneventful and you all wake with the dawn refreshed and whole. Dealuri the mark still remains on your wrist and refuses to be washed away, but it gives you no discomfort beyond its mere presence. Everyone give me a perception roll as you break camp.
The morning is cold and dull, the clouds hanging heavy and close. Rachus please roll a d20 (Wilderness Encounter)
OOC: And so the second day begins, feel free to share your thoughts and feelings with the rest of the party about the night before or the journey ahead.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
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(Preposting for Vakas, heading in to work)
Eyes wide, Vakas looks on in horror as her wounds start to knit together! Following a hunch, he calls out to the others, “Abomination! Burn her with fire, if you can!” Then he swings away..
Short sword : 23 to hit, for 5 points of piercing damage.
Dagger, Nick attack with the same action : (Crit!) 26 to hit, for 7 points of piercing damage.
Off hand dagger : 9 to hit, for 2 points of damage.
Sneak attack damage in light of Dealuri in melee : 3 points of damage.
Total of 15 points of damage.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Dealuri WIS save: 6, 15 (5hp damage)
Her head aching from the necrotic damage, Dealuri registers the call for fire. She reaches into her pack and pulls out a flask of oil. She then attempts to dump it on to the hag in an attempt to toast her (but rolls a nat 1 +4, treating this as an unarmed melee attack).
OOC: Will wait my turn this time and c where we r at. If anyone needs a healing word, shout out!
Rachus step out from behind the tree and launches another pinprick of light
8 to hit - miss.
He frowns at the lack of penetration of the defenses of the enemy.
He then moves back into cover.
End of turn.
OOC: Thannadol would you mind editing your post and popping in what you rolled to get the miss please :) I am especially interested if it were a Nat 1 as your colleague just fumbled with a pot of oil...As soon as Rachus chimes in I'll bring it all together ready for your turn Skritch. That's if she is still standing lol, you are all doing some decent damage here!
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
OOC: Looks like we posted together lol
Rachus your spell is swallowed by her magic this time around, the shimmering light blinking out, just as the glow you inflicted her with finally begins to fade.
Vakas you continue to slice and stab into her exposed back, reopening wounds and inflicting new ones to join them. Ribbons of putrid flesh fall away as you cut into her again and again, beginning to sag beneath the onslaught.
Dealuri you reach into your pack but your mind is still reeling from her attack and the arm she grasped is feeling strangely numb. You fumble with the flask as you try to empty it over her and its content is mostly splashed over yourself and the floor at your feet.
Thannadol you release your firebolt but it flies wide as her shadowed protection seems to bat the spell away into the darkness.
The old woman screams; raw, furious, and full of pain. Her eyes blaze red, burning with some dark inner fire. Blood soaks her robes, but she does not fall. She mutters words too old for mortal tongues and spreads her arms wide.
“Fine,” she hisses. “Keep the bloody caaaa—aa—t!”
Then her body begins to twist. Skin bubbles, bones crack, and fur bursts through her flesh. With a sickening sound, she splits apart—her form breaking into a writhing mass of rats. The swarm explodes outward, hissing and chittering, vanishing into the night like smoke on the wind. The woman is gone. Only the scurrying remains.
Dealuri you hear soft laughter in the back of your mind and then a motherly voice speaks, "See you soon my sweet, sweet girl." a sharp pinching pain causes you to look down at your arm where she grasped you and you see a black handprint staining the skin about your wrist.
Combat is over :)
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
So shocking were the final moments of the battle that you are only now noticing that the scarecrow has ceased its screaming. The hour is now late and you must soon rest or risk the perils of exhaustion on the morrow, though you may deem that a worthy cost to put some distance between yourselves and the site of this horror?
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
OOC WORLD LORE: While you all gather you whit's and decide what you want to do next I thought I would share a little knowledge about the world you are adventuring in.
Nyrgard
The World Beyond the Ragnarök
A thousand years have passed since the cataclysm of Ragnarök, the final war that shattered the heavens and sundered the world tree. The old gods are no more, their thrones reduced to dust, their voices mere whispers in the void. Yet from the ashes of the fallen realms, a new land has risen. Nyrgard, forged in the embers of the past, a realm of both ruin and rebirth, where destiny awaits those bold enough to seize it.
You currently adventure on the southern borderlands of Athrillan, The Dawn lands of the east and the cradle of humanity. A land of rolling hills and golden meadows where the first human survivors of Ragnarök made their homes. It is here on the eastern shores that the mortal survivors of the old world, landed their ships and planted the first seeds of a new civilization. The closest large city is the port of Caemyr a weeks march east if Dunwarren where you started this adventure.
Your current journey south takes you toward the lands of Helgeroth, The Black Wastes. Once the final battlefield of an ancient magical war, its ashen plains still crackle with divine energy. There, the spirits of the fallen gods whisper in the wind.
That's all for now. I will copy this into the campaign notes and expand as we go. Remember you can always ask questions in game with a relevant roll to expand your knowledge...
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
Skritch checks himself all over to make sure he still has all his fur. Yuppers.
Next he checks Sunhill and then the other mounts to make sure they aren't too traumatised. He uses his own innate telepathy, and Druidcraft to create a soothing environ for them if needed, pleasant natural smells, delicious (to horses) flowers for the horses to nibble on, etc.
If it looks like any of them are going to be trouble, and the party don't want to get the hell out of Dodge, I can ritual cast Speak with Animals to soothe them.
Of course, if they're fine, pls ignore the above.
Into Vakas' mind, him having been in the hag's haghome, Skritch says, "Loot n leave?"
And then, to the rest of the group, "I have one more spell in me, I think. Anyone need a Healing Word?"
(OOC: If they do, they're healed for 6 and I'll cross off my other spell slot)
Looking around at all the dwellings, Skritch admits to himself that he does love a sleep on a comfy rug or chair, but he grew up sleeping in tree hollows, he'll be able to get a long rest when the group wants one, wherever we end up...
"Oh, hush up," Dealuri says to the voice in her head. Followed by, "Ack! Out damned spot, out!" Dealuri is more unhappy with the physical mark than the mental connection she now has with the hag, possibly because there is little mental for the hag to connect with. Speaking of which, "So wait, was she a she, or was she a collection of rats in a dress? Oh, whatever. She did hurt me, so I'm glad she is gone. I'd be grateful for the healing if no one else needs it more." She looks herself up and down and then does a quick sniff, at which point she remembers a key fact. "Also, I need to get out of these robes that are covered with oil." And she removes the robe and the danger of turning herself into a human torch.
Skritch does his Healing Word to Dealuri, for 6 hp, per above.
(OOC: have crossed off 2nd spell slot)
Then Skritch jumps aboard Sunhill and tele-says, "Shall we away, good, er, gentles all?"
OOC: Ok so far I am reading; search, move and find a campsite?
Thannadol, a brief study tells you that the old woman left no remains from her transformation, what ever she had went with the rats. You enter the house to continue your search. Immediately you see that the scarecrow has fallen to the ground and lies there immobile and above the fireplace the glass jars that once held severed heads have all shattered, releasing their horrific contents to spill and crack upon the ground. (With a 22) you discover the following items:
On the nearby table :
All very useful items to a wizard dabbling in necromancy. Thannadol can either take these items or leave them for others. Is anyone else searching the house or the wider village before moving on to find a campsite?
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
Rachus breathes a sigh of relief as the party seems to have the upper hand but then his breath catches in his throat as the foul lady turned into a mound of rats. A jolt of fear traveled through his spine, and thoughts of being consumed by thousands of rats raced in his mind. He had to remind himself to breathe again once they scattered. Rachus then calmly walked back to his pony stroking its fuzzy hide not to just comfort the horse but himself too. "As promised, I will give you a name brave Pony. How about Hoofy" the pony stamps its hoof "is that a no, hmm ... how about Clio" The pony then nuzzles Rachus. "Ha, I knew I could find a name for you. Did you know Clio was known as a muse of sorts to historians and poets."
Then he registered what his companions were saying " Ah yes let's move on from this dreary place and find a nice campsite" He has no interest in searching more of this dark village and will mount Clio and wait for the others to be ready to depart. Once it is time he will nudge his pony forward.
Skritch, riding Sunhill, does a trot around, looking in any of the places that are easy to get to, ie doors or windows open, easy to flee from, etc.
He's trusting to his night vision and Sunhill's nose (Investigation: 1-1=0. Perception: 4+3=7) So, er, no...
Then he wheels Sunhill around, chitters, "Yah! Yah! Yippy-kai-ay, mother, er, buckets!" and heads out of town with the rest of the party in search of a safe place to camp.
((Sorry for the delayed post, love the imagery, I've actually been shocked and contemplating how Vakas would respond...))
Vakas walks backwards as the rats disperse, jaw dropping open in a "we're not in Dunwarren anymore" moment. He slowly bends down, wiping his short sword and dagger on the ground before sheathing them. He takes hold of the reins of his horse Vincent, patting him on the side and trying to calm him from such a horrible sight. He finds a place to tie him up as he considers what to do next. "In there... you have to see what I saw in there..." The eyes staring at him. The faces in the jars. He knows they will haunt his dreams tonight.
He watches as Thannadol searches the house, uncovering items that he only quickly saw in a glimpse of a moment. He holds out his hand a moment, when Thannadol moves to gather up the evil things. "I wouldn't touch that. You should have seen the eyes inside that scarecrow. These things are evil, and you could be promoting the practice of a necromancer. I won't have it, no matter how much money you make from that, it will be put toward evil ends. Look, I'm all about making a coin or two, or three or four. But I've never seen anything like this. It can't be purchased and used by some other diseased soul to do horrible things to people. No, it must burn. Like the rest of this evil filled shack. I'm not leaving here until that is done."
Vakas looks for any other flammable objects, using some of his oil if needed, but hoping to repurpose things in the hovel to set this place ablaze. He breaks out his flint and tinder, setting it alight, saying "Good riddance!" as he does so. Then, gently, and with no reproach or hard feelings, takes the items from Thannadol if he will give them up and places them on the fire to burn...
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
When Skritch sees the shaken Vakas attempting to set the haghovel alight at the same time as Thanadol collects what he can of the things Vakas wants to burn, he sits back in his saddle and chews at some acorn he gad been storing in one of his cheeks.
Peeps will be, er, peeps, he thinks to himself.
And also, mm, this acorn tastes goooood...!
Soon enough they'll be done with their shenanigans. And then we can look for a downtime locale.
OOC: Given that Thannadol can not post until Monday we can play out what happened to the items in retrospect. Perhaps send a DM and then refer back to it in a future post?
The flames climb into the night like desperate fingers, crackling and spitting sparks into the black sky. Behind you, the nameless village is lit up by the smouldering house, its silence more telling than any scarecrow scream. The old woman’s handiwork lingers in your minds. Whatever tale the poor souls of this place might have told would now remain a mystery.
It is late. Overhead, a pale sliver of moon cuts through the low clouds like a blade through wool, casting a wan and flickering light across the road ahead. The air smells of smoke, wet earth, and something fouler still—something that clings to your cloaks and your thoughts.
A few miles south, you come upon a clearing at the edge of a tanglewood forest, the trees huddle together like old men whispering secrets. You make camp here, too tired to speak much, too wary to forget what you’ve seen.
Sleep finds you soon enough, heavy and dream-thick. But there is no peace in it. Your dreams stink of blood and cinders, of screaming horrors and grinning corpses, and of a darkness yet to come that no fire can hold back.
OOC: Does anyone have anything they want to get done or said before we move on to the next day?
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain
Dealuri throws her oil-stained robe on the fire and thinks she will need to pick up a new one at the next town. That night though, the robe chased after her in her dreams, waving its sleeves that were on fire. Just when the dream-robe was about to catch her, the black mark on her arm tingled and she heard the old hag say, Jump, sweetie, which she did, causing the robe to disappear. Then the hag laughed maniacally and Dealuri woke up.
Skritch curls up next to Sunhill to stay warm, plus to keep his dog feeling safe.
A night's rest is much needed for such a newbie druid. Spells burn up so quickly...
In his sleep, Skritch dreams of his cousins and kith, playing in the branches of Yggdrasill... then of him falling... so slow surely one of them will b able to catch him.
Then he lands. In something soft, thank Freya.
Then the something soft squirms. Rats. So many rats. Too many to Speak with Animals to...
Then he wakes and it's time for his watch.
That's good. I wanted to, er, wake up now anyway, he thinks.
He does his turn, watching from a low tree branch...
Besides the fitful dreams that haunt you the night is uneventful and you all wake with the dawn refreshed and whole. Dealuri the mark still remains on your wrist and refuses to be washed away, but it gives you no discomfort beyond its mere presence. Everyone give me a perception roll as you break camp.
The morning is cold and dull, the clouds hanging heavy and close. Rachus please roll a d20 (Wilderness Encounter)
OOC: And so the second day begins, feel free to share your thoughts and feelings with the rest of the party about the night before or the journey ahead.
DM - Warlock of Firetop Mountain