Pockets stuffed in valuable metals, and dressed in convincing dark robes, covering his usual ornate traveling attire, Amadeus readies to step out... then stops. This is a rough and tumble crowd, cruel, violent and stupid - a winning combination in the worst way! For this to work, one must walk the walk as easily as talk the talk. Sound reasoning, in his mind.
So he stops, ruffles his shoulders, dishevels his hair, throws some dust from the ground on his clothes and hair, and steps out, a grimey snarl on his face, looking about to ensure his facade.
Almost as an afterthought, Draylin said, "We need to be mindful of the masked raiders. The fodder they use should be easy enough to navigate, but at least four of the ones who wear dragon masks would be best to avoid."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
You slip one by one out of the tent and into the pale morning light. Dawn finally reveals the camp in full: the plateau walls rise sharply around you, dotted with dozens of small cave mouths. On top of the plateau, you see a watchtower looking over this side of the camp. You see that the grand, decorated tent is being guarded by four formidable guards. Further behind it, you now see a massive cave entrance.
Just then, the flap of the grand tent parts and out steps a human woman in deep purple robes, her expression cold and commanding. Beside her strides a towering creature draped in even richer purple trimmed with gold. The figure's presence is overwhelming. Even from this far you can feel it pressing against you like a physical force - authority, cruelty and power wrapped into one. A hush falls all around you.
The pair begin walking... in your direction.
Eight black-clad raiders in dragon masks fall into a formation around them, escorting them like an honour guard. The crowd of lower-ranked raiders and mercenaries instinctively parts, creating a clear path that sweeps you up with it, blending you into the procession whether you like it or not.
They pass the loot tent no more than ten feet from where you stand. A distracted halfling, too slow to move out of their way on time, is shoved into your feet as the procession advances.
Tam,
Your experience working under a dragonborn reporter makes your stomach twist the moment you catch a better look at the towering figure. Its movements, voice and appearance feel somewhat draconic.
Amadeus and Tam, your ears catch their voices as they draw near:
The creature's voice is low, rough and ominous, every word vibrating with restrained violence.
"And what of our esteemed guest, Mondath?"it growls.
The human woman bows her head slightly as she replies. "Not yet, Wyrmspeaker. But he has been without food or water for two days. I expect he will break before long. And if he does not... Cyanwrath can help him along."
The creature lets out a rumbling snarl. "He had better. I want to know exactly how much that fool thinks he knows. Send Cyanwrath now, if you must."
Mondath hesitates for a moment. "He is preparing for tonight's raid, Wyrmspeaker. Unless you prefer he stay behind…?"
The towering figure hisses in displeasure, but says nothing more.
The group continue on to where the plateau opens up to what you assume is the camp's entrance, and the crowd closes again behind them, continuing with their tasks.
If anyone wants to try to figure out what type of creature you just saw, feel free to roll an Arcana/history/religion check (whatever makes the most sense for your character).
Tam stifles an audible gasp, knowing in her gut this creature is draconic in origin. She makes a mental note. Mondath. Cyanwrath. Wyrmspeaker. This had gone from bad to worse. They needed to rescue these people and warn someone in authority. And they were running out of time.
Montar glares at the tall figure. (History check: 15) His right hand twitches at his side, grasping the dagger in his belt. But he does not draw it, and watches them go by. "We need ta get ta Greenest now. Let's do what we need ta," he whispers urgently.
Draylin let's the crowd push him into place. He simply goes along, blending in by doing nothing at all.
His focus was drawn, even as the knot formed in his stomach,to the mysterious figure. He was too disciplined to show emotion, but something in him recoiled at the very presence and exuded power of the mysterious figure. He calmed his mind and focused on his breath. Falling within himself, he scoured his mind for any recollection of a creature that could exhude such a powerful aura.
At times like this. Draylin wished he had paid closer attention to the lessons that didn't pertain to martial arts
***history 5 ***
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
He knows to keep his head down, to show no signs of uncertainty. For the boy behind the man Amadeus became, understanding his place in a sinister business as this is the paramount to his survival. He can feel the others tensing - and truthfully, as the hairs on his arms stand rigid, tense too is he - but he dares not look. Let the others wonder. He merely waits. All the while, an old wound aches; memories warm and sour burn at the back of his mind...
Then, as quick as the feeling had grown, like bile rising in his stomach, both the strange creature and its rider are past, and the Gnome's surroundings return, gradually. He turns his head, his voice a hoarse croak that breaks back into his normal tone as he speaks. "Well then, we have things to do - shall we be on?"
you look at this creature and the hairs along your arms lift one by one. You are not entirely sure what it is, but it reminds you somewhat of a dragonborn, although you’ve never seen a dragonborn like it before. Your monastic training screams danger and in your gut, you know that this is the most dangerous creature in the entire camp.
Montar
you’ve heard tales of half-dragons before - humanoids that are a cross between a dragon and another creature. The creature before you matches those rumours uncannily: more than 7 feet tall, black, scaled skin, a draconic jaw, and a humanoid frame filled with terrifying power. Half-dragons are said to be unnaturally strong, cruel, and loyal to evil draconic forces.
Tam
you recognise the creature as a half-dragon from the stories you’ve heard and the term Wyrmspeaker burns brightly in your mind. You recognise the word - Wyrmspeakers are said to be the elite leaders of the Cult of the Dragon.
Thistlewick
through the vines and songs of creatures, you’ve heard of half-dragons before as servants of an imprisoned dragon queen, worshipped by the Cult of the Dragon. You recognise this creature to be a black half-dragon. The purple regalia you see on those two is more than just their attire. Among the cult, only those of high station wear such colours.
Montar shakes off the feeling of foreboding that gripped him after observing the apparent half-dragon. To Amadeus, he replies, "Aye, let's go. Lead on." He follows behind, but with a clear sense of urgency, ready for any trouble that might arise as they first go to regain their gear.
Pockets stuffed in valuable metals, and dressed in convincing dark robes, covering his usual ornate traveling attire, Amadeus readies to step out... then stops. This is a rough and tumble crowd, cruel, violent and stupid - a winning combination in the worst way! For this to work, one must walk the walk as easily as talk the talk. Sound reasoning, in his mind.
So he stops, ruffles his shoulders, dishevels his hair, throws some dust from the ground on his clothes and hair, and steps out, a grimey snarl on his face, looking about to ensure his facade.
Deception for the tough guy act: 23 (woooooo!!)
Perception: 21 (WOOOOO!!!)
Draylin
Almost as an afterthought, Draylin said, "We need to be mindful of the masked raiders. The fodder they use should be easy enough to navigate, but at least four of the ones who wear dragon masks would be best to avoid."
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
You slip one by one out of the tent and into the pale morning light. Dawn finally reveals the camp in full: the plateau walls rise sharply around you, dotted with dozens of small cave mouths. On top of the plateau, you see a watchtower looking over this side of the camp. You see that the grand, decorated tent is being guarded by four formidable guards. Further behind it, you now see a massive cave entrance.
Just then, the flap of the grand tent parts and out steps a human woman in deep purple robes, her expression cold and commanding. Beside her strides a towering creature draped in even richer purple trimmed with gold. The figure's presence is overwhelming. Even from this far you can feel it pressing against you like a physical force - authority, cruelty and power wrapped into one. A hush falls all around you.
The pair begin walking... in your direction.
Eight black-clad raiders in dragon masks fall into a formation around them, escorting them like an honour guard. The crowd of lower-ranked raiders and mercenaries instinctively parts, creating a clear path that sweeps you up with it, blending you into the procession whether you like it or not.
They pass the loot tent no more than ten feet from where you stand. A distracted halfling, too slow to move out of their way on time, is shoved into your feet as the procession advances.
Tam,
Your experience working under a dragonborn reporter makes your stomach twist the moment you catch a better look at the towering figure. Its movements, voice and appearance feel somewhat draconic.
Amadeus and Tam, your ears catch their voices as they draw near:
The creature's voice is low, rough and ominous, every word vibrating with restrained violence.
"And what of our esteemed guest, Mondath?" it growls.
The human woman bows her head slightly as she replies. "Not yet, Wyrmspeaker. But he has been without food or water for two days. I expect he will break before long. And if he does not... Cyanwrath can help him along."
The creature lets out a rumbling snarl. "He had better. I want to know exactly how much that fool thinks he knows. Send Cyanwrath now, if you must."
Mondath hesitates for a moment. "He is preparing for tonight's raid, Wyrmspeaker. Unless you prefer he stay behind…?"
The towering figure hisses in displeasure, but says nothing more.
The group continue on to where the plateau opens up to what you assume is the camp's entrance, and the crowd closes again behind them, continuing with their tasks.
If anyone wants to try to figure out what type of creature you just saw, feel free to roll an Arcana/history/religion check (whatever makes the most sense for your character).
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure
[22 history check]
Tam stifles an audible gasp, knowing in her gut this creature is draconic in origin. She makes a mental note. Mondath. Cyanwrath. Wyrmspeaker. This had gone from bad to worse. They needed to rescue these people and warn someone in authority. And they were running out of time.
Middle Grade Author
Montar glares at the tall figure. (History check: 15) His right hand twitches at his side, grasping the dagger in his belt. But he does not draw it, and watches them go by. "We need ta get ta Greenest now. Let's do what we need ta," he whispers urgently.
Draylin
Draylin let's the crowd push him into place. He simply goes along, blending in by doing nothing at all.
His focus was drawn, even as the knot formed in his stomach,to the mysterious figure. He was too disciplined to show emotion, but something in him recoiled at the very presence and exuded power of the mysterious figure. He calmed his mind and focused on his breath. Falling within himself, he scoured his mind for any recollection of a creature that could exhude such a powerful aura.
At times like this. Draylin wished he had paid closer attention to the lessons that didn't pertain to martial arts
***history 5 ***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Thistlewick - Religion: 21
His jaw is clamped shut so hard the tendons stand out along his jaw and neck.
He knows to keep his head down, to show no signs of uncertainty. For the boy behind the man Amadeus became, understanding his place in a sinister business as this is the paramount to his survival. He can feel the others tensing - and truthfully, as the hairs on his arms stand rigid, tense too is he - but he dares not look. Let the others wonder. He merely waits. All the while, an old wound aches; memories warm and sour burn at the back of his mind...
Then, as quick as the feeling had grown, like bile rising in his stomach, both the strange creature and its rider are past, and the Gnome's surroundings return, gradually. He turns his head, his voice a hoarse croak that breaks back into his normal tone as he speaks. "Well then, we have things to do - shall we be on?"
Draylin
you look at this creature and the hairs along your arms lift one by one. You are not entirely sure what it is, but it reminds you somewhat of a dragonborn, although you’ve never seen a dragonborn like it before. Your monastic training screams danger and in your gut, you know that this is the most dangerous creature in the entire camp.
Montar
you’ve heard tales of half-dragons before - humanoids that are a cross between a dragon and another creature. The creature before you matches those rumours uncannily: more than 7 feet tall, black, scaled skin, a draconic jaw, and a humanoid frame filled with terrifying power. Half-dragons are said to be unnaturally strong, cruel, and loyal to evil draconic forces.
Tam
you recognise the creature as a half-dragon from the stories you’ve heard and the term Wyrmspeaker burns brightly in your mind. You recognise the word - Wyrmspeakers are said to be the elite leaders of the Cult of the Dragon.
Thistlewick
through the vines and songs of creatures, you’ve heard of half-dragons before as servants of an imprisoned dragon queen, worshipped by the Cult of the Dragon. You recognise this creature to be a black half-dragon. The purple regalia you see on those two is more than just their attire. Among the cult, only those of high station wear such colours.
DM: Hoard of the Dragon Queen Adventure
Montar shakes off the feeling of foreboding that gripped him after observing the apparent half-dragon. To Amadeus, he replies, "Aye, let's go. Lead on." He follows behind, but with a clear sense of urgency, ready for any trouble that might arise as they first go to regain their gear.
“Let’s try to get this monk free. We’re running short on time.”
Tam looks at the main tent where the prisoner is being held to see if there is a back way in.
Middle Grade Author