"Hey wait a minute! Weren't we supposed to track down the other guy that killed the wolf? Let's go." Yuno takes off at a brisk pace down the trail toward the pull.
Trythia looks at the other woman. "Why were we supposed to do that? Who is he to you that you say such a thing? However, I agree we need not stay on the ranger's trail. The forest is welcoming enough."
Trythia says this to the woman's back for the woman has already resumed her trek toward the source of the unseen tug. She looks around, then follows. As she moves, she again reaches out with that portion of herself which knows the presence of evil and good.
ooc: Divine Sense - Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity (the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, for instance). Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
"Hey wait a minute! Weren't we supposed to track down the other guy that killed the wolf? Let's go." Yuno takes off at a brisk pace down the trail toward the pull.
ooc: Divine Sense - Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity (the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, for instance). Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
((I'm pretty sure the person Yuno is going after is also going the same direction as the tug. May have confused the trail for the forest but that's about it))
"Hey wait a minute! Weren't we supposed to track down the other guy that killed the wolf? Let's go." Yuno takes off at a brisk pace down the trail toward the pull.
ooc: Divine Sense - Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity (the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, for instance). Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
((I'm pretty sure the person Yuno is going after is also going the same direction as the tug. May have confused the trail for the forest but that's about it))
ooc: Good point. I edited my post accordingly. Thanks.
Mal rests her hand around Haluth gently pulling him after Yuno, "Well seems you might be the bell of the ball of our memories, as our newcomer here has also had visions of you. Or at least her beetle friend has had the visions, not entirely sure on that one. I am now more than ever waiting to see what our current "pull" is pulling us to." Then realizing she is kind of pushing him down the trail, she pauses, removes her arm and asks him, "Shall we?" Her closed fist now on her hip as she offers the crux of her elbow out to be escorted down the trail after the others.
((I have been informed that I misunderstood something. The trail and the pull go in different directions. I thought they went the same way. My bad. So to clarify, Yuno is going to head the same direction as the pull))
Haluth just laughs as Mal pulls him along with the rest of the group, and merrily takes her arm when she offers it. "Aye, seems we all had different pulls for the first one, but we're all headin' the same way for this one. Makes me wonder if its special or somethin'." Haluth will also walk with Mal and the others, continuing in the direction of the pull and making small talk with Mal or anyone else who will chat with him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
The decision made, you step away from the worn stones and beaten earth of the ranger’s trail and press northward into the heart of the High Forest. The air grows thicker here, the canopy rising high and knitting together overhead until the sunlight filters down in scattered shafts. Moss hangs heavy from the boughs, and underfoot the earth is soft, damp, and tangled with roots that resist every step.
The pull within your chest remains steady, your one constant guide. Yuno takes the lead with brisk certainty, her blades cutting through undergrowth where needed, though much of the forest gives way with enough persistence. Trythia keeps close, her senses spread wide. Each time she extends her awareness, the results are the same: no celestial, no fiend, no undead lurk nearby. Whatever lies ahead, it is not of those kinds. Mal and Haluth follow arm-in-arm, their banter keeping the mood lighter even as the shadows deepen, while Cygnan and Volkanica move with quiet focus, each accustomed in their own way to reading the signs of untamed places.
Hours pass beneath the canopy. The sounds of the forest rise and fall—birds calling, insects buzzing, the distant snap of unseen animals moving through brush—but none approach your path. It is as though the creatures here know better than to linger too near. The air grows colder, the forest quieter, and though no direct threat reveals itself, the hairs on the back of your neck prick at the change.
Then, without warning, the world itself seems to twist. The air takes on a faint metallic tang, each breath sharp against your tongue. Sound no longer sits right—your footsteps echo back a half-beat too late, whispers catch in the branches overhead, and when you glance aside, shadows seem a fraction out of sync with their sources. A chill runs along your skin as if unseen hands brush past you. At the edges of vision, flickers of light dance and vanish before your eyes can catch them.
Through it all, the pull within your chest remains, but it is no longer smooth. It stretches and wavers here, tugging like a taut rope under strain. Still, you can feel it clearly—the source is not far now. By your best sense, it lies less than two hours’ travel ahead, somewhere deep within this twisted stretch of forest.
Gedyr pressed deeper into the High Forest, the path he cut with his scimitar soon swallowed by the wild tangle of roots and thorn. The air itself thickened, carrying with it the smell of wet bark and old moss, heavy enough that every breath felt laden with age. Overhead the canopy drew tighter, braiding itself into a vaulted ceiling that let only thin threads of sunlight reach the ground. What little light broke through shimmered strangely, as if refracted by glass that was not there.
The pull in his chest remained steady, but the forest around him had begun to shift in ways that pressed against his senses. His steps fell sure enough, but each one seemed to echo back just slightly wrong—too sharp, or too late. When he glanced at the shadows beneath the trees, they seemed to lean at odd angles, a fraction out of step with their sources. The hum of the Bladesong within him steadied his focus, but could not wholly mute the dissonance.
Birds had gone silent. Even the insects, so constant in the warmer hours, seemed to have withdrawn. In their place came faint impressions: a whisper where no voice was, the brush of unseen fingertips across his arm, a flicker of pale light that winked out before he could fix his gaze upon it. The air tasted of metal, sharp against his tongue, as though he were breathing sparks rather than air.
Yet still the call remained, the one true constant. It strained here, no longer smooth but pulled taut, as if caught between forces he could not see. Even so, its direction was clear. The source lay ahead, not far—perhaps two hours more of steady movement through this warped stretch of forest. Whatever awaited him there, Gedyr knew it was close.
Determined Gedyr moves towards the call. Once he believes he is within 20 minutes of the source he will take hold of the brass rod and utter words of power, and a thin sheen of necromancy will surround him before fading from view.
False Life at 2nd level for 11 temp hit points (one hour)
Trythia moved to take the lead, glaive at the ready. There was no need to warn her companions of the change. She knew they could feel it as well as she. Once more she reached out. Always before her divine sense found nothing but now the forest itself was twisted. Something must have caused it.
"Stay close. I will know if we are about to be attack and, through me, you too will know."
She continues forward cautiously, all senses alert.
ooc: Divine Sense once again. Also, Perception23. Lastly, she will cast Resistance on herself, and keep re-casting it every minute.
Yuno's eyes scan the forests but she doesn't quite spot anything ordinary. She doesn't seem to bothered by it though. She says, "Hah... I'm not worried. If something does attack us it will have to be a real idiot."
Trythia looks at the other woman. "Why were we supposed to do that? Who is he to you that you say such a thing? However, I agree we need not stay on the ranger's trail. The forest is welcoming enough."
Trythia says this to the woman's back for the woman has already resumed her trek toward the source of the unseen tug. She looks around, then follows. As she moves, she again reaches out with that portion of herself which knows the presence of evil and good.
ooc: Divine Sense - Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity (the vampire Count Strahd von Zarovich, for instance). Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
((I'm pretty sure the person Yuno is going after is also going the same direction as the tug. May have confused the trail for the forest but that's about it))
ooc: Good point. I edited my post accordingly. Thanks.
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Mal rests her hand around Haluth gently pulling him after Yuno, "Well seems you might be the bell of the ball of our memories, as our newcomer here has also had visions of you. Or at least her beetle friend has had the visions, not entirely sure on that one. I am now more than ever waiting to see what our current "pull" is pulling us to." Then realizing she is kind of pushing him down the trail, she pauses, removes her arm and asks him, "Shall we?" Her closed fist now on her hip as she offers the crux of her elbow out to be escorted down the trail after the others.
((I have been informed that I misunderstood something. The trail and the pull go in different directions. I thought they went the same way. My bad. So to clarify, Yuno is going to head the same direction as the pull))
Haluth just laughs as Mal pulls him along with the rest of the group, and merrily takes her arm when she offers it. "Aye, seems we all had different pulls for the first one, but we're all headin' the same way for this one. Makes me wonder if its special or somethin'." Haluth will also walk with Mal and the others, continuing in the direction of the pull and making small talk with Mal or anyone else who will chat with him.
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Cygnan, Haluth, Mal, Trythia, Yuno, and Volkanica
The decision made, you step away from the worn stones and beaten earth of the ranger’s trail and press northward into the heart of the High Forest. The air grows thicker here, the canopy rising high and knitting together overhead until the sunlight filters down in scattered shafts. Moss hangs heavy from the boughs, and underfoot the earth is soft, damp, and tangled with roots that resist every step.
The pull within your chest remains steady, your one constant guide. Yuno takes the lead with brisk certainty, her blades cutting through undergrowth where needed, though much of the forest gives way with enough persistence. Trythia keeps close, her senses spread wide. Each time she extends her awareness, the results are the same: no celestial, no fiend, no undead lurk nearby. Whatever lies ahead, it is not of those kinds. Mal and Haluth follow arm-in-arm, their banter keeping the mood lighter even as the shadows deepen, while Cygnan and Volkanica move with quiet focus, each accustomed in their own way to reading the signs of untamed places.
Hours pass beneath the canopy. The sounds of the forest rise and fall—birds calling, insects buzzing, the distant snap of unseen animals moving through brush—but none approach your path. It is as though the creatures here know better than to linger too near. The air grows colder, the forest quieter, and though no direct threat reveals itself, the hairs on the back of your neck prick at the change.
Then, without warning, the world itself seems to twist. The air takes on a faint metallic tang, each breath sharp against your tongue. Sound no longer sits right—your footsteps echo back a half-beat too late, whispers catch in the branches overhead, and when you glance aside, shadows seem a fraction out of sync with their sources. A chill runs along your skin as if unseen hands brush past you. At the edges of vision, flickers of light dance and vanish before your eyes can catch them.
Through it all, the pull within your chest remains, but it is no longer smooth. It stretches and wavers here, tugging like a taut rope under strain. Still, you can feel it clearly—the source is not far now. By your best sense, it lies less than two hours’ travel ahead, somewhere deep within this twisted stretch of forest.
Gedyr
Gedyr pressed deeper into the High Forest, the path he cut with his scimitar soon swallowed by the wild tangle of roots and thorn. The air itself thickened, carrying with it the smell of wet bark and old moss, heavy enough that every breath felt laden with age. Overhead the canopy drew tighter, braiding itself into a vaulted ceiling that let only thin threads of sunlight reach the ground. What little light broke through shimmered strangely, as if refracted by glass that was not there.
The pull in his chest remained steady, but the forest around him had begun to shift in ways that pressed against his senses. His steps fell sure enough, but each one seemed to echo back just slightly wrong—too sharp, or too late. When he glanced at the shadows beneath the trees, they seemed to lean at odd angles, a fraction out of step with their sources. The hum of the Bladesong within him steadied his focus, but could not wholly mute the dissonance.
Birds had gone silent. Even the insects, so constant in the warmer hours, seemed to have withdrawn. In their place came faint impressions: a whisper where no voice was, the brush of unseen fingertips across his arm, a flicker of pale light that winked out before he could fix his gaze upon it. The air tasted of metal, sharp against his tongue, as though he were breathing sparks rather than air.
Yet still the call remained, the one true constant. It strained here, no longer smooth but pulled taut, as if caught between forces he could not see. Even so, its direction was clear. The source lay ahead, not far—perhaps two hours more of steady movement through this warped stretch of forest. Whatever awaited him there, Gedyr knew it was close.
Gedyr,
Determined Gedyr moves towards the call. Once he believes he is within 20 minutes of the source he will take hold of the brass rod and utter words of power, and a thin sheen of necromancy will surround him before fading from view.
False Life at 2nd level for 11 temp hit points (one hour)
As well he will recast mage armor if 8 hours has past.
Trythia moved to take the lead, glaive at the ready. There was no need to warn her companions of the change. She knew they could feel it as well as she. Once more she reached out. Always before her divine sense found nothing but now the forest itself was twisted. Something must have caused it.
"Stay close. I will know if we are about to be attack and, through me, you too will know."
She continues forward cautiously, all senses alert.
ooc: Divine Sense once again. Also, Perception 23. Lastly, she will cast Resistance on herself, and keep re-casting it every minute.
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Yuno's eyes scan the forests but she doesn't quite spot anything ordinary. She doesn't seem to bothered by it though. She says, "Hah... I'm not worried. If something does attack us it will have to be a real idiot."
Yuno Perception: 10
You working?
Trythia
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Cygnan follows, also very much on edge, excited and nervous as they approach whatever is calling.