Joy laughs as Ylis smears her with mud, giving her a fond squeeze in return despite the mess. She beams, touched by everyone’s support. “Thank you. And yes, Vaz, please. I’ve never wanted a bowl of stew and a dry cloak more in my life.”Her stomach growls as if on cue. Blushing slightly, she turns to gives a smile and wave at the victorious genasi and other competitors before they leave.
As the Fellowship turns to leave, the genasi jogs over to the group, stopping short to give them time to notice her before she walks in and claps Joy on the shoulder. "I’ve never seen anyone give it their all like that before. ’Cept for myself, I mean." She smiles warmly at Joy. "My name is Ayo. Ayo Jabe. Remember that name because it's gonna be famous one day, heh. Anyway, I wanted to give you this." She holds out the medal.
"I won the race, but you were the real champion today. You turned back to help that lady and... well..." Ayo's face flushes into a dark blue."I'm not sure I would have if you didn't first. But that's the kind of person I want to be... that I hope to be. Where there isn't much thinkin that needs to happen when someone needs help. You just do it. It, uh, it's admirable and stuff. Heroic."She blushes further as she continues to hold the medal out for Joy.
Joy's eyes widen in surprise at Ayo’s approach, then soften into a warm smile as the genasi speaks. “I’m Joy,” she says, offering her hand before accepting the clap on the shoulder with a gentle laugh. “And I believe you, Ayo. If anyone’s destined to be famous, it’s the blue blur who punched a shark in the nose mid-race.” Her grin deepens as she adds, “You’ve got all the heart and strength to help a lot of people—especially if there’s water involved.”
She hesitates only a moment before taking the medal, humbled by the gesture. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.” Holding the medal carefully, she glances back to the others. “We were just about to find some food and dry off a bit—care to join us? You and your friend both. Hopefully he’s feeling better now that he got to see you shine.”
"I'd love to, but I have to go find all my friends. They're out testing themselves at all the challenges of the festival." Her grin widens with pride. "Actually, I was finally able to throw together an adventuring crew. We are going to go out into the world and change it for the better. But I would love for you to meet all my friends before we head outta town." She turns to the drow who is now standing at a distance with some concern on his face. "That's Galsariad. He joined my crew a few days ago and I am sure he's feeling better. He loves it when we win and spends hours talking about every victory." She chuckles at her own ribbing of her friend. Galsariad hears his name and approaches with a neutral expression. He tips his head in greeting the Fellowship, but doesn't move to engage in the discussion. It seems that he is uncertain and in that uncertainty, has fallen back on Kryn propriety of quiet politeness. Ayo easily picks up on the quiet behavior which, as just noted, it quite incongruent with her expectations. She moves the discussion along, as it is clear her friend is not up to speaking at the moment. "Would you be willing to meet the rest of my crew? We'll be at the closing ceremony tonight."
Joy’s face lights up with genuine delight, the medal glinting in her hand as she clasps it to her chest. “A whole new adventuring crew?” she says, her voice full of wonder. “That’s incredible! I remember when the Fellowship first came together. We didn’t know each other yet, but somehow...Ah, I'm glad you'll be starting off on a less stressful note than us."
She turns to the others, eyes bright and hopeful. “What do you all think? Shall we go to the closing ceremony tonight and meet Ayo’s crew? I’d love for us to send them off properly.” Her gaze lingers kindly on Galsariad, offering a small nod of understanding without pressing him. “It’s always good to have more friends out in the world.”
"Yeah sure!" Ylis pipes in, "making new friends is always a good thing!"
The day has been full of new experiences and cheery competition. Being able to relax and enjoy whatever these closing ceremonies might be, would only be better with new companions.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
"Of course," Vazo'yn nods agreeably. He spares a look toward the quiet drow and if Galsariad meets his gaze, Vazo'yn offers him a nod of empathic kinship, one Kryn to another. He recalls his own early years of reserved politeness upon meeting the Fellowship.
Riven watches the exchange between Joy and Ayo with quiet composure, his expression softened by the easy warmth between them. There’s something grounding about it. two strangers meeting not with challenge or suspicion, but with respect. He takes a slow breath, the tension from earlier finally loosening its grip across his shoulders.
As Galsariad approaches, Riven meets his gaze again, but this time, there’s no edge to it. Just a small incline of his head, an acknowledgment of his earlier misstep. He doesn’t speak to it directly, but the shift in his posture, the gentled focus in his eyes, says enough: I read that wrong. And I know it.
When Joy turns to the Fellowship and asks if they’ll join Ayo and her crew at the closing ceremony, Riven lets the question linger in the air for a moment. Then he speaks, quiet and certain.
“We should go.”
His voice is measured, but sincere. He glances toward Ayo and Galsariad, no longer with the cool calculation of a wary traveler, but as someone willing to try again.
“They’ve got their start,” he continues, folding his arms loosely. “Wouldn’t hurt to meet them on even ground. No tests, no games. Just a night shared before the road carries us different ways.”
He shifts his weight, brushing a bit of drying mud from the heel of his boot, ready to walk when the rest are.
Galsariad catches Riven's gaze, his thoughts communicated through them. His mind quickly runs through a journey of swirling emotions, where he starts off with immediate rejection of the offered olive branch. Then, an expression of shame and an understanding of the immaturity of such an unforgiving mindset. People make mistakes, especially when they don't have all the information. A small cock of his eyebrow as he remembers a few of his own flawed moments of the past.
He then takes a deep breath in, then out through his nose and offers a small nod and a forgiving smile that turns up the very corners of his mouth. Subtle, but noticeable for one such as Riven.
Ayo hears overwhelming agreement from her new friends and sees the silent agreement from Galsariad and Riven to at least be open to a restart. She grins wide and claps Joy on both shoulders excitedly. "See you all later." She begins to walk away, but turns to wave to the Fellowship as she goes.
The Fellowship is now mostly alone on the pier, as most others have found their way to new challenges or some other activity as the sun continues its journey toward the western horizon. It is afternoon, after lunch hour, but well before supper hour; a perfect opportunity to find a table without having to wait wherever they wander.
As the sun begins its slow descent over the horizon, the last golden light of day glimmers across the rippling surface of the Ifolon River, catching on the salt-flecked spray clinging to Joy’s armor like a crown of glass. Laughter and cheers still echo behind them at the pier as the Fellowship steps away from the challenge, walking as a group through the winding paths that lead from the Meatwaters into the heart of the Jumble.
Their passage is marked by a shift in tone, not just of location, but of rhythm. The intensity of the river’s test lingers on Riven’s shoulders like a ghost of a memory, but already, the hum of life in Jigow pulls something looser and lighter to the surface.
Here in the Jumble, the pulse of the Festival of Merit is vibrant and unrelenting. Banners of stitched fish scales and braided feathers crisscross above the avenues. The scent of fire-roasted meat and citrus-glazed fruits wafts from vendor stalls. Children dart past in packs, faces smeared with fruit dye and mud, brandishing festival masks shaped like horizonbacks and long-limbed frogs. Orc musicians stomp and howl in impromptu drum circles, while a trio of bugbears hurl knives at a rotating log painted with grinning faces.
As the Fellowship weaves through the crowd, their footsteps eventually lead them to a narrow street off the Jumble’s main thoroughfare, one marked with the weather-worn sign of a cracked teacup and a brass lantern shaped like a snail shell. Hanging from a crooked post is a wooden placard etched in Undercommon and Common alike: The Braided Path.
The tavern is built low and wide, its thick stilts elevating it slightly above the spongy earth below. Vines hang lazily over its eaves, and small luminescent beetles drift around its windows, their glow like soft candlelight. The interior is cool and dim, with woven reed lanterns swaying from the ceiling and wide floor cushions instead of chairs. A single, polished horizonback shell serves as the centerpiece of the room, forming a broad, domed bar where drinks are served in gourd-carved flutes or hollowed bones wrapped in silver wire.
As the Fellowship steps into the warm, reed-scented glow of The Braided Path, their presence ripples subtly through the tavern’s atmosphere. Conversations shift; a few heads turn with passing curiosity. The low hum of stringed music and the clatter of clay mugs lends a gentle undercurrent to the quiet welcome of the space. Yet amid the calm, there’s a pocket of livelier energy near the back of the room, where laughter, groans, and occasional bursts of applause rise above the ambient murmur.
There, nestled between a pair of low, circular tables, stands an impromptu game ring cordoned off by an arrangement of painted rope and low stools. At its center is a striking figure: a leonin woman, broad-shouldered and amber-eyed, with a thick golden mane braided tightly down her back, adorned with copper rings. Her fur is a dusky tan flecked with darker rosettes along her limbs, and her long tail flicks with predatory amusement as she addresses the growing crowd around her. A deep scar slashes across her nose, though it does little to diminish the vibrant glint in her eye, she is enjoying this.
Coiled at her side is a long, black-lashed whip, which she snaps once with casual precision, the crack echoing like a punctuation mark.
“Think you’ve got aim?” she calls, gesturing toward the peculiar stack of targets she’s placed at the far end of the space. Three metallic cans, each slightly dented and engraved with stylized fanged grins, are precariously balanced one atop the other. A small sign in front of the platform reads:
“The Snapjaw Challenge: Top to Bottom, or Not at All!”
The goal is simple, but the execution, judging by the muttering contestants nursing sore knuckles or scuffed pride, seems anything but.
A tiefling woman rubs her shoulder, clearly smarting from her last throw. A bugbear youth cheers as a goblin nearly manages to knock off the top and middle cans… only for the bottom to hold, sending the upper pair tumbling down. Laughter and groans ripple through the crowd, mingling with the clink of coins changing hands. Bets are being made on everything from accuracy to sheer style.
As the Fellowship enters, the leonin’s keen gaze drifts over them, pausing briefly on Riven’s lean, quiet form, then on the glint of a medal still hanging from Joy’s neck. A grin slowly spreads across her feline muzzle. She raises a brow and snaps the whip again, not at them, but to draw attention.
“Fresh faces! New arms!” she purrs, voice rolling with rich amusement. “Tell me, travelers, can you land the hits no one else here has managed? Three cans, three throws, in order from top to bottom. Fail the sequence, and you’re out. Hit all three… and I buy your first round.”
The crowd parts slightly, allowing a better view of the challenge. It’s deceptively simple, yet every contestant before has fallen short, unable to match the control and precision required.
There’s no obligation in her voice, only invitation. But the rowdy group clustered around the ring begins to take notice, some muttering new odds, others nudging one another as they recognize the Fellowship, recently successful, newly prominent.
DM: Fantastic work. I am both honored by the effort and humbled by it at the same time; the submission was worth every minute it took to read it. I need to step up my game.
Joy looks to Randa excitedly. "Oh, this sounds like the perfect game for you!" The elf's archery has always been impressive, so a challenge involving aim shouldn't be too difficult.
Joy looks to Randa excitedly. "Oh, this sounds like the perfect game for you!" The elf's archery has always been impressive, so a challenge involving aim shouldn't be too difficult.
Randa grinned back and then stepped forward, " I'll have a go."
She studied the cans intently, she didn't want to suspect the katari but she'd been to sideshows before....
Perception- 22
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Ylis shouts, "You were great!" and gives the clean Joy a full body crusty mud hug.
The games have been mostly fun except for this one - the danger was off-putting for something that was supposed to be enjoyable.
Hopefully the next game wouldn't be quite so dangerous.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Randa lowered her bow happy she didn't need to shoot, " Well done, Joy.", she smiled letting Ylis do the hugging for both of them.
"Well done, Joy. You may not have come back with the spear, but you return a hero regardless," Vazo'yn says proudly as Joy rejoins them.
Now that Joy and the other contestants were safe, the tension and worry that had tightened his shoulders left him and he relaxed.
"Something to eat after all that exertion?" he asks.
Joy laughs as Ylis smears her with mud, giving her a fond squeeze in return despite the mess. She beams, touched by everyone’s support. “Thank you. And yes, Vaz, please. I’ve never wanted a bowl of stew and a dry cloak more in my life.” Her stomach growls as if on cue. Blushing slightly, she turns to gives a smile and wave at the victorious genasi and other competitors before they leave.
"Well that was as intense as it was fun, congrats on a great race Joy!"
As the Fellowship turns to leave, the genasi jogs over to the group, stopping short to give them time to notice her before she walks in and claps Joy on the shoulder. "I’ve never seen anyone give it their all like that before. ’Cept for myself, I mean." She smiles warmly at Joy. "My name is Ayo. Ayo Jabe. Remember that name because it's gonna be famous one day, heh. Anyway, I wanted to give you this." She holds out the medal.
"I won the race, but you were the real champion today. You turned back to help that lady and... well..." Ayo's face flushes into a dark blue. "I'm not sure I would have if you didn't first. But that's the kind of person I want to be... that I hope to be. Where there isn't much thinkin that needs to happen when someone needs help. You just do it. It, uh, it's admirable and stuff. Heroic." She blushes further as she continues to hold the medal out for Joy.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
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Joy's eyes widen in surprise at Ayo’s approach, then soften into a warm smile as the genasi speaks. “I’m Joy,” she says, offering her hand before accepting the clap on the shoulder with a gentle laugh. “And I believe you, Ayo. If anyone’s destined to be famous, it’s the blue blur who punched a shark in the nose mid-race.” Her grin deepens as she adds, “You’ve got all the heart and strength to help a lot of people—especially if there’s water involved.”
She hesitates only a moment before taking the medal, humbled by the gesture. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.” Holding the medal carefully, she glances back to the others. “We were just about to find some food and dry off a bit—care to join us? You and your friend both. Hopefully he’s feeling better now that he got to see you shine.”
"I'd love to, but I have to go find all my friends. They're out testing themselves at all the challenges of the festival." Her grin widens with pride. "Actually, I was finally able to throw together an adventuring crew. We are going to go out into the world and change it for the better. But I would love for you to meet all my friends before we head outta town." She turns to the drow who is now standing at a distance with some concern on his face. "That's Galsariad. He joined my crew a few days ago and I am sure he's feeling better. He loves it when we win and spends hours talking about every victory." She chuckles at her own ribbing of her friend. Galsariad hears his name and approaches with a neutral expression. He tips his head in greeting the Fellowship, but doesn't move to engage in the discussion. It seems that he is uncertain and in that uncertainty, has fallen back on Kryn propriety of quiet politeness. Ayo easily picks up on the quiet behavior which, as just noted, it quite incongruent with her expectations. She moves the discussion along, as it is clear her friend is not up to speaking at the moment. "Would you be willing to meet the rest of my crew? We'll be at the closing ceremony tonight."
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
Joy’s face lights up with genuine delight, the medal glinting in her hand as she clasps it to her chest. “A whole new adventuring crew?” she says, her voice full of wonder. “That’s incredible! I remember when the Fellowship first came together. We didn’t know each other yet, but somehow...Ah, I'm glad you'll be starting off on a less stressful note than us."
She turns to the others, eyes bright and hopeful. “What do you all think? Shall we go to the closing ceremony tonight and meet Ayo’s crew? I’d love for us to send them off properly.” Her gaze lingers kindly on Galsariad, offering a small nod of understanding without pressing him. “It’s always good to have more friends out in the world.”
"Yeah sure!" Ylis pipes in, "making new friends is always a good thing!"
The day has been full of new experiences and cheery competition. Being able to relax and enjoy whatever these closing ceremonies might be, would only be better with new companions.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
"Of course," Vazo'yn nods agreeably. He spares a look toward the quiet drow and if Galsariad meets his gaze, Vazo'yn offers him a nod of empathic kinship, one Kryn to another. He recalls his own early years of reserved politeness upon meeting the Fellowship.
Berk looks at Ylis when he mention new friends. "I agree!" he says to his new friends.
Randa gave Ylis a wink, " Of course we should attend, we all did quite well today......well, most of us anyway..."
Riven watches the exchange between Joy and Ayo with quiet composure, his expression softened by the easy warmth between them. There’s something grounding about it. two strangers meeting not with challenge or suspicion, but with respect. He takes a slow breath, the tension from earlier finally loosening its grip across his shoulders.
As Galsariad approaches, Riven meets his gaze again, but this time, there’s no edge to it. Just a small incline of his head, an acknowledgment of his earlier misstep. He doesn’t speak to it directly, but the shift in his posture, the gentled focus in his eyes, says enough: I read that wrong. And I know it.
When Joy turns to the Fellowship and asks if they’ll join Ayo and her crew at the closing ceremony, Riven lets the question linger in the air for a moment. Then he speaks, quiet and certain.
“We should go.”
His voice is measured, but sincere. He glances toward Ayo and Galsariad, no longer with the cool calculation of a wary traveler, but as someone willing to try again.
“They’ve got their start,” he continues, folding his arms loosely. “Wouldn’t hurt to meet them on even ground. No tests, no games. Just a night shared before the road carries us different ways.”
He shifts his weight, brushing a bit of drying mud from the heel of his boot, ready to walk when the rest are.
Galsariad catches Riven's gaze, his thoughts communicated through them. His mind quickly runs through a journey of swirling emotions, where he starts off with immediate rejection of the offered olive branch. Then, an expression of shame and an understanding of the immaturity of such an unforgiving mindset. People make mistakes, especially when they don't have all the information. A small cock of his eyebrow as he remembers a few of his own flawed moments of the past.
He then takes a deep breath in, then out through his nose and offers a small nod and a forgiving smile that turns up the very corners of his mouth. Subtle, but noticeable for one such as Riven.
Ayo hears overwhelming agreement from her new friends and sees the silent agreement from Galsariad and Riven to at least be open to a restart. She grins wide and claps Joy on both shoulders excitedly. "See you all later." She begins to walk away, but turns to wave to the Fellowship as she goes.
The Fellowship is now mostly alone on the pier, as most others have found their way to new challenges or some other activity as the sun continues its journey toward the western horizon. It is afternoon, after lunch hour, but well before supper hour; a perfect opportunity to find a table without having to wait wherever they wander.
DM: Either Damian or Naiya can set the scene.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
As the sun begins its slow descent over the horizon, the last golden light of day glimmers across the rippling surface of the Ifolon River, catching on the salt-flecked spray clinging to Joy’s armor like a crown of glass. Laughter and cheers still echo behind them at the pier as the Fellowship steps away from the challenge, walking as a group through the winding paths that lead from the Meatwaters into the heart of the Jumble.
Their passage is marked by a shift in tone, not just of location, but of rhythm. The intensity of the river’s test lingers on Riven’s shoulders like a ghost of a memory, but already, the hum of life in Jigow pulls something looser and lighter to the surface.
Here in the Jumble, the pulse of the Festival of Merit is vibrant and unrelenting. Banners of stitched fish scales and braided feathers crisscross above the avenues. The scent of fire-roasted meat and citrus-glazed fruits wafts from vendor stalls. Children dart past in packs, faces smeared with fruit dye and mud, brandishing festival masks shaped like horizonbacks and long-limbed frogs. Orc musicians stomp and howl in impromptu drum circles, while a trio of bugbears hurl knives at a rotating log painted with grinning faces.
As the Fellowship weaves through the crowd, their footsteps eventually lead them to a narrow street off the Jumble’s main thoroughfare, one marked with the weather-worn sign of a cracked teacup and a brass lantern shaped like a snail shell. Hanging from a crooked post is a wooden placard etched in Undercommon and Common alike: The Braided Path.
The tavern is built low and wide, its thick stilts elevating it slightly above the spongy earth below. Vines hang lazily over its eaves, and small luminescent beetles drift around its windows, their glow like soft candlelight. The interior is cool and dim, with woven reed lanterns swaying from the ceiling and wide floor cushions instead of chairs. A single, polished horizonback shell serves as the centerpiece of the room, forming a broad, domed bar where drinks are served in gourd-carved flutes or hollowed bones wrapped in silver wire.
As the Fellowship steps into the warm, reed-scented glow of The Braided Path, their presence ripples subtly through the tavern’s atmosphere. Conversations shift; a few heads turn with passing curiosity. The low hum of stringed music and the clatter of clay mugs lends a gentle undercurrent to the quiet welcome of the space. Yet amid the calm, there’s a pocket of livelier energy near the back of the room, where laughter, groans, and occasional bursts of applause rise above the ambient murmur.
There, nestled between a pair of low, circular tables, stands an impromptu game ring cordoned off by an arrangement of painted rope and low stools. At its center is a striking figure: a leonin woman, broad-shouldered and amber-eyed, with a thick golden mane braided tightly down her back, adorned with copper rings. Her fur is a dusky tan flecked with darker rosettes along her limbs, and her long tail flicks with predatory amusement as she addresses the growing crowd around her. A deep scar slashes across her nose, though it does little to diminish the vibrant glint in her eye, she is enjoying this.
Coiled at her side is a long, black-lashed whip, which she snaps once with casual precision, the crack echoing like a punctuation mark.
“Think you’ve got aim?” she calls, gesturing toward the peculiar stack of targets she’s placed at the far end of the space. Three metallic cans, each slightly dented and engraved with stylized fanged grins, are precariously balanced one atop the other. A small sign in front of the platform reads:
“The Snapjaw Challenge: Top to Bottom, or Not at All!”
The goal is simple, but the execution, judging by the muttering contestants nursing sore knuckles or scuffed pride, seems anything but.
A tiefling woman rubs her shoulder, clearly smarting from her last throw. A bugbear youth cheers as a goblin nearly manages to knock off the top and middle cans… only for the bottom to hold, sending the upper pair tumbling down. Laughter and groans ripple through the crowd, mingling with the clink of coins changing hands. Bets are being made on everything from accuracy to sheer style.
As the Fellowship enters, the leonin’s keen gaze drifts over them, pausing briefly on Riven’s lean, quiet form, then on the glint of a medal still hanging from Joy’s neck. A grin slowly spreads across her feline muzzle. She raises a brow and snaps the whip again, not at them, but to draw attention.
“Fresh faces! New arms!” she purrs, voice rolling with rich amusement. “Tell me, travelers, can you land the hits no one else here has managed? Three cans, three throws, in order from top to bottom. Fail the sequence, and you’re out. Hit all three… and I buy your first round.”
The crowd parts slightly, allowing a better view of the challenge. It’s deceptively simple, yet every contestant before has fallen short, unable to match the control and precision required.
There’s no obligation in her voice, only invitation. But the rowdy group clustered around the ring begins to take notice, some muttering new odds, others nudging one another as they recognize the Fellowship, recently successful, newly prominent.
DM: Fantastic work. I am both honored by the effort and humbled by it at the same time; the submission was worth every minute it took to read it. I need to step up my game.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
Ylis shakes her head. She was good at throwing things in a past life but not in this one. Or was that just a dream?
The only thing she's good at throwing now is UP. HAHA! she laughs at her own joke.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Joy looks to Randa excitedly. "Oh, this sounds like the perfect game for you!" The elf's archery has always been impressive, so a challenge involving aim shouldn't be too difficult.
Randa grinned back and then stepped forward, " I'll have a go."
She studied the cans intently, she didn't want to suspect the katari but she'd been to sideshows before....
Perception- 22