Smiling as Mal attempts to fade into the background. "Buy Yuno, I have no desire to attack you." She will then concentrate on Trythia and Haluth speaking into their minds, "Sorry for the intrusion, the three of us can now speak telepathically."
Stealth: 19
Psionic Power: Psychic Whispers - 2 hour duration
Trythia gives no indication of this unexpected...situation. She responds in kind. "Interesting. Why us and why now?"
Hopefully slinking in the shadows Mal responds, "Haluth because I have known him the longest and I trust. You because, well, to be blunt, you have a matter of fact attitude and from the look of you, you can handle yourself in a fight." Mal pauses a moment, "As to why now, the forest around us seems very unwelcoming and better have it and not need the ability than need it and not have it."
The ruined forest gave way in fits and starts as Gedyr pressed on, the pull in his chest guiding him with steady certainty. He crossed broken ground where roots split cobbles and vines coiled through shattered stone, each step bringing him deeper into the heart of what was once a proud place. The southeastern wall of the ruin lay in pieces, more rubble than fortification, and through the gaps the courtyard beyond waited, still and heavy with age.
The air here was different. The strange echoes that had haunted his march through the forest grew sharper, more insistent. His footsteps rang back to him a fraction too late, each sound clipped and distorted. Shadows leaned in odd directions, and light itself seemed to bend across broken stone, as though the ruin refused to align with the world around it. The metallic tang on his tongue thickened until it felt as though he were breathing sparks.
The pull within him was stronger now—so close it felt as though the source pressed just beyond the next crumbling wall. Twenty minutes, no more, and he would stand before it. The thought brought with it no relief, only a deep weight, as if the ruin itself judged his approach.
Gedyr drew the brass rod, the familiar hum of its presence grounding him against the warped air. Words of power slipped from his lips, and necromantic energy coiled briefly about him before fading from sight. A thin sheen of protection clung unseen to his skin, a quiet ward against the dangers he knew must lie ahead. Still, the distortion pressed at the edge of his senses, as though the ruin itself whispered for him to turn back.
The forest closes in as you press onward. The air is heavy, damp with the scent of moss and rot, but beneath it lurks something sharper — the faint tang of metal on your tongue, as though the air itself has been cut with iron. Your footsteps echo strangely, a half-beat late, as though the forest is replaying your sounds just out of sync. Now and then a shadow moves where none should, or a flicker of light winks at the corner of your vision, gone the instant you try to catch it.
Trythia’s glaive hums faintly in her grip, her senses thrown wide. Once again she reaches with her inner gift, but no celestial, no fiend, no undead answer her call. Instead, she feels only the forest itself, twisted and unsettled — not consecrated, not desecrated, but strained, as though reality here frays at the edges. Her watchful eyes catch the small things others miss: a tree with bark that shifts color like old embers when she looks too long, stones cracked with veins of faint purple glow, and roots that curl against the soil as though resisting the weight above them.
Yuno keeps pace at the front, blades loose and ready, her words flippant but her steps firm. If the forest means to frighten her, it will need to try harder. Mal vanishes into the undergrowth with a grin, her presence barely a whisper, her thoughts now touching Haluth and Trythia with easy confidence. Haluth gives his reply in kind, flask put away as his fists flex and settle in readiness. Volkanica walks ahead, her stride untroubled by roots or briar, as if the woods themselves part enough to let her pass. Cygnan trails with quiet intensity, his mind racing with the possibilities of what lies ahead.
The pull in your chest is stronger now than ever, taut as a bowstring. Whatever calls you lies close — perhaps less than an hour’s march ahead. The forest itself resists, but cannot bar your way. And then, at last, through the dense weave of trunks and bramble, the land ahead begins to open. You catch the first signs of stone half-buried in earth and ivy, the broken edge of walls swallowed by time, the silhouette of structures rising faintly above the treeline.
The ruins are near. The pull tightens with every step.
"Be ready to act. I sense nothing but the forest is straining against...something. Us...what pulls us...something," Trythia sends telepathically as she moves up besides Volkanica. Her glaive is ready, as is she herself.
Mal will continue to creep forward to the wall, keeping to as much darkness as she can, looking for a crumbling break in the wall hoping to get glance inside. Broadcasting her movements silently to Trythia and Haltuh.
Gedyr continues to advance, but with more caution this time, carefully watching his footsteps. He whispers a quiet prayer to the Great Unknown under his breath and advances towards the call
Cygnan, noticing the others moving stealthfully, tries to move quietly as well, but is not very successful. He is entirely focused on seeking the source..
The forest thins abruptly, the dense curtain of trees parting to reveal stone half-swallowed by time. You press forward into the shadow of the ruins, each step echoing strangely in the warped air. The pull in your chest thrums with sharp insistence now, so close it is almost painful. Less than an hour’s march ahead lies its source — and here, at the edge of what was once Draezirhold, the air itself strains against you.
The wall before you is broken and overgrown. Ivy coils thick along jagged stone, roots twist through cracks, and entire sections have toppled into rubble. To the southwest, where you approach, a crumbling archway still stands, though its keystone is gone and the stonework bows precariously inward. Beyond it, glimpses of open space glimmer between the growth — what looks to be an overgrown courtyard littered with vines and the toppled remains of statues. The faintest purple glow flickers in veins along the cracked masonry, never steady, but shifting like embers pressed beneath stone.
Trythia moves with her glaive ready, but the warped air muddles her senses; the strain is there, but no clear threat resolves. Mal melts into shadow and rubble, slipping toward the wall unseen, though her eyes catch only indistinct movement in the haze. Cygnan’s attempt to follow quietly is less successful, his boots scraping stone, but his sharp focus picks out signs among the debris: claw marks scratched deep into the fallen blocks, and the faint grooves of something heavy dragged across the courtyard stones. Volkanica’s watchful eyes sweep wider — and she alone spots subtle, unnatural shapes within the courtyard. Several of the thick vines that drape across broken stone and flagstones do not sway with the wind at all. They remain still, rigid, coiled like snakes waiting for prey.
The ruins loom before you, silent and watchful, their stones groaning faintly under the weight of centuries and the warping pressure of magic.
What do you do?
OOC: I decided to not wait any longer for Haluth’s post so the group can continue moving forward together.
Each step into the ruins felt heavier than the last. The shattered southeastern wall loomed behind him now, its jagged stones framing the silence of the courtyard spur. Vines clung to broken pillars, saplings sprouted between fractured paving stones, and the air itself pressed strange and wrong— whispers catching at the edge of hearing, echoes coming half a beat too late.
Gedyr moved with care, his pace slowed, every motion measured. The rhythm of the Bladesong pulsed in his veins, guiding his balance, his breath, even the shift of his weight upon each stone. Shadows bent at odd angles, but his own fell silent, his presence wrapped in practiced caution. To anything watching, he was no more than a ripple among the ruins, his steps swallowed by moss and dust.
The overgrowth here stirred faintly—vines sagging under their own weight, brambles shifting as if moved by a breeze that did not touch his skin. Yet no sound broke the ruin’s stillness. Whatever life or death lingered in this courtyard spur, it did not yet mark his passage. Ahead, the gap in the rubble revealed the way forward, deeper into the antechamber vault where the distortion thickened, and the pull in his chest beat ever stronger.
Trythia moves forward, taking the lead into the ruins. She murmurs quietly, re-invigorating her body and mind against assault. Despite the power warping the forest, she remains alert, trusting in the power of her weapon to warn her and the others of danger.
"Something is wrong, here," she says quietly. "The forest is...fighting against something." She glances at the druid. "Surely you feel it to. What could be causing it?"
She approaches the crumbling archway on the balls of her feet, ready to attack or defend as needed.
Yuno responds sarcastically, "Gee~ I hadn't noticed."Then she drops the sarcasm and says, "Honestly I'm not too worried. I'm just getting real annoyed at this annoying pulling feeling that's keeping from going out and doing Yuno-things. I just want to get in, find out whatever it is that's making the pulling, deal with it and get out. If I have to fight a forest demon or something to get to it, then so be it." Yuno seems very unbothered by the warping but she is fully ready to cut down whatever threat might come her way.
Yuno responds sarcastically, "Gee~ I hadn't noticed."Then she drops the sarcasm and says, "Honestly I'm not too worried. I'm just getting real annoyed at this annoying pulling feeling that's keeping from going out and doing Yuno-things. I just want to get in, find out whatever it is that's making the pulling, deal with it and get out. If I have to fight a forest demon or something to get to it, then so be it." Yuno seems very unbothered by the warping but she is fully ready to cut down whatever threat might come her way.
Trythia allowed the sarcasm to run off her back like water from an oilcloth. Sarcasm often covered either fear or nervousness. Either would be normal enough here. Only the foolish equated courage with a lack of fear. She kept her attention on the archway and what lay beyond. Now that she was closer, she scanned for anything she'd missed earlier.
Haluth grins as they exit the dense greenery and approach the dilapidated structure. Never one to let apprehension stop him, the dwarf presses on with the others moving towards the archway alongside Trythia. He comments to Yuno, "You seem awfully eager to get rid of this pulling sensation. I'm more interested to see what we will find at the end of it. Perhaps it will unlock more memories for us or give us some guidance on how we arrived here."
As he approaches, he scans the surrounding area and peers into the courtyard attempting to spot anything dangerous.
Haluth grins as they exit the dense greenery and approach the dilapidated structure. Never one to let apprehension stop him, the dwarf presses on with the others moving towards the archway alongside Trythia. He comments to Yuno, "You seem awfully eager to get rid of this pulling sensation. I'm more interested to see what we will find at the end of it. Perhaps it will unlock more memories for us or give us some guidance on how we arrived here."
As he approaches, he scans the surrounding area and peers into the courtyard attempting to spot anything dangerous.
Yuno responds, "I'm what you might call a free spirit. I don't like annoying pulling sensations leading me around all over places with the threat of having a constantly annoying feeling. I prefer tackling things at my own pace at my own whims."
Mal continues her silent creep forward into the ruins glancing around herself to mark where her allies are situated. Continuing to keep to the shadows, she mentally asks both Haluth and Trythia, "Notice anything weird, I know there is something bad here but I can't seem to actually see it."
She will then glance around the ground to see if she can make out any tracks of nay kind as she continues toward the pulling sensation.
Mal continues her silent creep forward into the ruins glancing around herself to mark where her allies are situated. Continuing to keep to the shadows, she mentally asks both Haluth and Trythia, "Notice anything weird, I know there is something bad here but I can't seem to actually see it."
"Whatever is pulling us seems...unnatural. In the sense the forest is fighting something here. As the source of our...pull is here, I assume that fight has something to do with that," the paladin responds.
Trythia gives no indication of this unexpected...situation. She responds in kind. "Interesting. Why us and why now?"
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Hopefully slinking in the shadows Mal responds, "Haluth because I have known him the longest and I trust. You because, well, to be blunt, you have a matter of fact attitude and from the look of you, you can handle yourself in a fight." Mal pauses a moment, "As to why now, the forest around us seems very unwelcoming and better have it and not need the ability than need it and not have it."
Volkanica walks ahead of the group, not concerned with the path. Only the pull and the nature around her. She keeps within sight.
Gedyr
The ruined forest gave way in fits and starts as Gedyr pressed on, the pull in his chest guiding him with steady certainty. He crossed broken ground where roots split cobbles and vines coiled through shattered stone, each step bringing him deeper into the heart of what was once a proud place. The southeastern wall of the ruin lay in pieces, more rubble than fortification, and through the gaps the courtyard beyond waited, still and heavy with age.
The air here was different. The strange echoes that had haunted his march through the forest grew sharper, more insistent. His footsteps rang back to him a fraction too late, each sound clipped and distorted. Shadows leaned in odd directions, and light itself seemed to bend across broken stone, as though the ruin refused to align with the world around it. The metallic tang on his tongue thickened until it felt as though he were breathing sparks.
The pull within him was stronger now—so close it felt as though the source pressed just beyond the next crumbling wall. Twenty minutes, no more, and he would stand before it. The thought brought with it no relief, only a deep weight, as if the ruin itself judged his approach.
Gedyr drew the brass rod, the familiar hum of its presence grounding him against the warped air. Words of power slipped from his lips, and necromantic energy coiled briefly about him before fading from sight. A thin sheen of protection clung unseen to his skin, a quiet ward against the dangers he knew must lie ahead. Still, the distortion pressed at the edge of his senses, as though the ruin itself whispered for him to turn back.
You can have Mage Armor recast now as well.
Cygnan, Haluth, Mal, Trythia, Yuno, and Volkanica
DM Post: The Forest Warps
The forest closes in as you press onward. The air is heavy, damp with the scent of moss and rot, but beneath it lurks something sharper — the faint tang of metal on your tongue, as though the air itself has been cut with iron. Your footsteps echo strangely, a half-beat late, as though the forest is replaying your sounds just out of sync. Now and then a shadow moves where none should, or a flicker of light winks at the corner of your vision, gone the instant you try to catch it.
Trythia’s glaive hums faintly in her grip, her senses thrown wide. Once again she reaches with her inner gift, but no celestial, no fiend, no undead answer her call. Instead, she feels only the forest itself, twisted and unsettled — not consecrated, not desecrated, but strained, as though reality here frays at the edges. Her watchful eyes catch the small things others miss: a tree with bark that shifts color like old embers when she looks too long, stones cracked with veins of faint purple glow, and roots that curl against the soil as though resisting the weight above them.
Yuno keeps pace at the front, blades loose and ready, her words flippant but her steps firm. If the forest means to frighten her, it will need to try harder. Mal vanishes into the undergrowth with a grin, her presence barely a whisper, her thoughts now touching Haluth and Trythia with easy confidence. Haluth gives his reply in kind, flask put away as his fists flex and settle in readiness. Volkanica walks ahead, her stride untroubled by roots or briar, as if the woods themselves part enough to let her pass. Cygnan trails with quiet intensity, his mind racing with the possibilities of what lies ahead.
The pull in your chest is stronger now than ever, taut as a bowstring. Whatever calls you lies close — perhaps less than an hour’s march ahead. The forest itself resists, but cannot bar your way. And then, at last, through the dense weave of trunks and bramble, the land ahead begins to open. You catch the first signs of stone half-buried in earth and ivy, the broken edge of walls swallowed by time, the silhouette of structures rising faintly above the treeline.
The ruins are near. The pull tightens with every step.
"Be ready to act. I sense nothing but the forest is straining against...something. Us...what pulls us...something," Trythia sends telepathically as she moves up besides Volkanica. Her glaive is ready, as is she herself.
Perception 4
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Mal will continue to creep forward to the wall, keeping to as much darkness as she can, looking for a crumbling break in the wall hoping to get glance inside. Broadcasting her movements silently to Trythia and Haltuh.
Stealth: 22
Perception: 4
Gedyr continues to advance, but with more caution this time, carefully watching his footsteps. He whispers a quiet prayer to the Great Unknown under his breath and advances towards the call
stealth 25
Cygnan, noticing the others moving stealthfully, tries to move quietly as well, but is not very successful. He is entirely focused on seeking the source..
6 stealth, 15 investigation.
Volkanica approaches as well, keeping watch for anything that might jump out.
Perception: 21
Cygnan, Haluth, Mal, Trythia, Yuno, and Volkanica
The forest thins abruptly, the dense curtain of trees parting to reveal stone half-swallowed by time. You press forward into the shadow of the ruins, each step echoing strangely in the warped air. The pull in your chest thrums with sharp insistence now, so close it is almost painful. Less than an hour’s march ahead lies its source — and here, at the edge of what was once Draezirhold, the air itself strains against you.
The wall before you is broken and overgrown. Ivy coils thick along jagged stone, roots twist through cracks, and entire sections have toppled into rubble. To the southwest, where you approach, a crumbling archway still stands, though its keystone is gone and the stonework bows precariously inward. Beyond it, glimpses of open space glimmer between the growth — what looks to be an overgrown courtyard littered with vines and the toppled remains of statues. The faintest purple glow flickers in veins along the cracked masonry, never steady, but shifting like embers pressed beneath stone.
Trythia moves with her glaive ready, but the warped air muddles her senses; the strain is there, but no clear threat resolves. Mal melts into shadow and rubble, slipping toward the wall unseen, though her eyes catch only indistinct movement in the haze. Cygnan’s attempt to follow quietly is less successful, his boots scraping stone, but his sharp focus picks out signs among the debris: claw marks scratched deep into the fallen blocks, and the faint grooves of something heavy dragged across the courtyard stones. Volkanica’s watchful eyes sweep wider — and she alone spots subtle, unnatural shapes within the courtyard. Several of the thick vines that drape across broken stone and flagstones do not sway with the wind at all. They remain still, rigid, coiled like snakes waiting for prey.
The ruins loom before you, silent and watchful, their stones groaning faintly under the weight of centuries and the warping pressure of magic.
What do you do?
OOC: I decided to not wait any longer for Haluth’s post so the group can continue moving forward together.
Gedyr
Each step into the ruins felt heavier than the last. The shattered southeastern wall loomed behind him now, its jagged stones framing the silence of the courtyard spur. Vines clung to broken pillars, saplings sprouted between fractured paving stones, and the air itself pressed strange and wrong— whispers catching at the edge of hearing, echoes coming half a beat too late.
Gedyr moved with care, his pace slowed, every motion measured. The rhythm of the Bladesong pulsed in his veins, guiding his balance, his breath, even the shift of his weight upon each stone. Shadows bent at odd angles, but his own fell silent, his presence wrapped in practiced caution. To anything watching, he was no more than a ripple among the ruins, his steps swallowed by moss and dust.
The overgrowth here stirred faintly—vines sagging under their own weight, brambles shifting as if moved by a breeze that did not touch his skin. Yet no sound broke the ruin’s stillness. Whatever life or death lingered in this courtyard spur, it did not yet mark his passage. Ahead, the gap in the rubble revealed the way forward, deeper into the antechamber vault where the distortion thickened, and the pull in his chest beat ever stronger.
Trythia moves forward, taking the lead into the ruins. She murmurs quietly, re-invigorating her body and mind against assault. Despite the power warping the forest, she remains alert, trusting in the power of her weapon to warn her and the others of danger.
"Something is wrong, here," she says quietly. "The forest is...fighting against something." She glances at the druid. "Surely you feel it to. What could be causing it?"
She approaches the crumbling archway on the balls of her feet, ready to attack or defend as needed.
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Yuno responds sarcastically, "Gee~ I hadn't noticed." Then she drops the sarcasm and says, "Honestly I'm not too worried. I'm just getting real annoyed at this annoying pulling feeling that's keeping from going out and doing Yuno-things. I just want to get in, find out whatever it is that's making the pulling, deal with it and get out. If I have to fight a forest demon or something to get to it, then so be it." Yuno seems very unbothered by the warping but she is fully ready to cut down whatever threat might come her way.
Trythia allowed the sarcasm to run off her back like water from an oilcloth. Sarcasm often covered either fear or nervousness. Either would be normal enough here. Only the foolish equated courage with a lack of fear. She kept her attention on the archway and what lay beyond. Now that she was closer, she scanned for anything she'd missed earlier.
Perception 13
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
Haluth grins as they exit the dense greenery and approach the dilapidated structure. Never one to let apprehension stop him, the dwarf presses on with the others moving towards the archway alongside Trythia. He comments to Yuno, "You seem awfully eager to get rid of this pulling sensation. I'm more interested to see what we will find at the end of it. Perhaps it will unlock more memories for us or give us some guidance on how we arrived here."
As he approaches, he scans the surrounding area and peers into the courtyard attempting to spot anything dangerous.
Perception: 13
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Yuno responds, "I'm what you might call a free spirit. I don't like annoying pulling sensations leading me around all over places with the threat of having a constantly annoying feeling. I prefer tackling things at my own pace at my own whims."
Perception: 21
Yuno's nose remains as sharp as always.
Mal continues her silent creep forward into the ruins glancing around herself to mark where her allies are situated. Continuing to keep to the shadows, she mentally asks both Haluth and Trythia, "Notice anything weird, I know there is something bad here but I can't seem to actually see it."
She will then glance around the ground to see if she can make out any tracks of nay kind as she continues toward the pulling sensation.
Survival: 9
Perception: 18
"Whatever is pulling us seems...unnatural. In the sense the forest is fighting something here. As the source of our...pull is here, I assume that fight has something to do with that," the paladin responds.
Tandor the White, Human Life Cleric
The genasi pauses.
"Stop."
She points toward the twisted vines that do not sway.
"I sense danger from those vines. Be wary."