Van hums to himself before looking around. He pushes some debris out of the way before slowly moving in a circle. He's writing in the air as he does so. After a few minutes, a dome appears at the center of the room where Van is standing. The work done, he collapses to the ground. "We're better of resting now then later," he says to no one in particular.
Once they're safe (for the most part) he draws the Moonblade from his belt and inspects it.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(OOC: Due to his elven heritage, Vanzaren auto-succeeds on the history check vs. moonblades in general, the arcana roll will be applied to what he can learn about this specific moonblade.)
WHAT VANZAREN RECALLS: Of all the magic items created by the elves, one of the most prized and jealously guarded is a moonblade. In ancient times, nearly all elven noble houses claimed one such blade. Over the centuries, some blades have faded from the world, their magic lost as family lines have become extinct. Other blades have vanished with their bearers during great quests. Thus, only a few of these weapons remain.
A moonblade passes down from parent to child. The sword chooses its bearer and remains bonded to that person for life. If the bearer dies, another heir can claim the blade. If no worthy heir exists, the sword lies dormant. It functions like a normal longsword until a worthy soul finds it and lays claim to its power.
A moonblade serves only one master at a time. The attunement process requires a special ritual in the throne room of an elven regent or in a temple dedicated to the elven gods.
A moonblade won’t serve anyone it regards as craven, erratic, corrupt, or at odds with preserving and protecting elvenkind. If the blade rejects you, you make ability checks, attack rolls, and saving throws with disadvantage for 24 hours. If the blade accepts you, you become attuned to it and a new rune appears on the blade. You remain attuned to the weapon until you die or the weapon is destroyed.
A moonblade has one rune on its blade for each master it has served...this moonblade has served a total of 4 masters. The first rune always grants a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. Each rune beyond the first grants the moonbladean additional property. The DM chooses each property or determines it randomly on the Moon Blade Properties table.
Property #1: Increase the bonus to attack and damage rolls by 1, to a maximum of +3. Reroll if the moonblade already has a +3 bonus. Property #2: Increase the bonus to attack and damage rolls by 1, to a maximum of +3. Reroll if the moonblade already has a +3 bonus. Property #3: The moonblade functions as a defender:
You gain a +3 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. The first time you attack with the sword on each of your turns, you can transfer some or all of the sword’s bonus to your Armor Class, instead of using the bonus on any attacks that turn. For example, you could reduce the bonus to your attack and damage rolls to +1 and gain a +2 bonus to AC. The adjusted bonuses remain in effect until the start of your next turn, although you must hold the sword to gain a bonus to AC from it.
(OOC: factoring in all bonuses, this moonblade has a total of +6 in addition to to attack and damage rolls of which 3 points may be transferred to AC at the start of each of Vanzaren's turns. Including Vanzaren's STR mod (-1) and proficiency bonus (+3), attack rolls made with this weapon have +5 to 8 bonus and damage rolls have a +2 to 5 bonus, depending on how many points are allocated to AC.)
Having initially been ready to go alongside Rigel, Marcon "entertained" waiting for Van to complete his spell having figured it to be some sort of powerful protection for the next leg of his journey. When the spell however completes and Van pops down talking about rest, an initial look of confusion start turns towards anger.
"You're serious?"He stated more than asked, but once Vanzaren (and whoever else) were of a like mind confirmed his answer. Marcon clenches his jaw in rising anger... before nodded solidly once. "... Aight then. Ya'll go ahead. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go back and check out that other chamber. See if there's anything else left there of use." He states in a tone dripping with barely contained anger. He also hardly waits for a reply before stepping out of the dome to do just as he said.
Initially to see if he could recover any still usable shields from the fallen Bugbears, as well as to spend some time moving them and the remaining corpses onto the pyre in funeral.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
With the exception of Marcon, the party and their companions gather under Vanzaren's magical dome for some much needed rest. All of them were worried about the missing boy, but after so many consecutive battles, their endurance was thoroughly drained. Not knowing what lie ahead, they reluctantly decide to spend the night under the safety of the spell.
Vanzaren held the moonblade and spoke to it, rhetorically asking how it came to be in Isolde's possession...but much to his surprise, the blade spoke back: "Greetings fellow elf...I am Uluthriál and I once belonged to Isolde a long time ago, before she was corrupted by Nepenthe...that dastardly red sword she drags behind her. Eons ago, she was is the service of a great elven wizard...one I believe you know...he was a bladesinger, like you and taught her the ways of your craft. Long before you were in the service of the same teacher, he was an agent of the Harpers, charged with rooting out the evil of Faerún. He gifted me to Isolde and sent her out into the world to find those who deserved justice. She travelled from town to town under the guise of her traveling circus to find and hold accountable those who wrought evil on the weak. Her actions were pure and just for many years, until she confronted another bladesinger...an evil one that wielded Nepenthe. They clashed in battle and both I and Nepethe fell from their grasp...they became locked in hand-to-hand combat until Isolde found Nepethe within her reach. She took that sword in her hand and struck down the evil bladesinger...but little did she know that it was not her opponent that was evil, but rather the red sword in her hand. With that one kill, it corrupted her, just as it had her adversary and she became what she is now...one who thirsts more for blood and conquest than justice and true righteousness. She cast me aside, stuffed me in an old trunk and forgot about me until Harlan found me and gave me to you. I sense the goodness in you Vanzaren Tanidoni, but I also sense darkness as well...you too have killed without cause..."
"It wasnt... I," Van trails off and stares up at the top of the dome. "I didnt mean to kill him. And I proved his point... and if I could go back in time I would do things differently."
“I know you mean that,” says the sword. The others look on with confusion as Vanzaren carries on a conversation with the seemingly inanimate object. “While you cannot bring back your dead teacher, you may be able to honor him by bringing Isolde back into the fold of righteousness…you must wrest Nepenthe away from her, and place me back in her hands. I will do the rest…”
"v..Van do you know by chance a..any sleep m..magic?" Says garet pointing at Marcon, he stops as he hears the exchange of words between the sword and the wizard "w..what?" he adds and steps away
(OOC: the party will begin a long rest as soon as Vanzaren finishes casting tiny hut. If anyone plans for their character to spend the next 8 hours outside the protection of Vanzaren's spell and/or doing anything other than rest activities, I'll need them to post - here in the game thread - explaining what their character is doing while the rest of the party sleeps.)
Ronk throws a few test punches, flexing is fingers to get used to the gauntlets - and also the muscles his muscles have apparently gained. "Huh... Neat." He looks to Van, then looks off in the direction Marcon went, then shrugs. "You can try to convince him to sleep. I can try to convince the wind to not blow. I think I'd succeed before you."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Despite all arguments to the contrary that warred within him, of which their were plentiful, Marcon knelt down, bowed his head, and with a balled fist held over his heart, sent out a prayer to Helm to watch over the bugbear spirits as the transition to whatever afterlife awaited him. After a few minutes, he then regained the wherewithal to focus on other tasks; such as clearing any webbing that was in danger of spreading the fire, as well as searching the room over the next hour in search of anything that could be of use beyond the Bugbears arms and armor, which he made a point of setting aside before committing them to their funeral by pyre.
'How is this helping?' 'They don't deserve mercy..' 'Don't know why ya bother. Ain't no way helm's listening after ya abandoned him' 'What a waste of time! Kid's in trouble 'n your still dicking around here!?'
He couldn't be sure if the questions where his own thoughts or that of the voice he heard last time. But so long as he stayed committed to the mind numbing task of his search, it had been easy at first ignore them. But once he felt certain enough of having done a thorough job, it became too much for him. He needed to do more, and so struck up a torch and began his way south from the throne room to check out the path beyond it. To scout ahead, or so he told himself, and at least save everyone time later in following a "pointless" path. All without thought of doing so carefully and quietly, figuring his torch to be too bright a beacon to bother with such care.
Though after about hundred and fifty feet worth of walk, or less so assuming he came to realize the passages tread roped back onto to familiar territory, Marcon would try to make his way back to the throne room to spend the remaining hours staring into the flame, absently chewing on rations as he'd contemplate his future...
After stacking the corpses on the fire and the remains of the dead bugbears' weapons and armor neatly by the door, Marcon conducts an exhaustive search of the throne room. Surrounding the low-burning fire in the center of the room are several dirty, worn sleeping bags. They smell like a combination of wet dog and feces and a couple are infested with fleas. This part of his search reveals nothing more than the tiny corpse of a decomposing mouse.
Next, the ex-farmhand turns his attention to the table in the southwest corner of the room. Here he finds a worn but functional alchemist set and several empty potion bottles, mostly broken although two remain intact. A powdery, crimson-colored residue lines the insides of each of the glass containers. Several pages of hand-written notes are scattered about the table as well, but the elegant, flowing script is written in a language Marcon does not understand.
Then, Marcon sets off - alone - southward out of the throne room. (OOC: see image posted in Discord to reveal the areas that Marcon searches while the rest of the party sleeps.) The halls are eerily quiet, with the exception of the man's footsteps as he plodded along, making no attempt to hide his presence from anyone or anything that may be watching or following him. The western end of the hallway south of the throne room is collapsed, so he goes east. Directly ahead, he finds the cavern in which the party encountered the bugbear henchmen that were trying to retrieve the pair of enchanted gauntlets from under a large boulder. The corpse of the doppelgänger has disappeared, but the bugbear corpses remain where they fell. He searches the area again, but finds nothing else of interest.
Heading back to the hall, Marcom finds another path leading directly south. He recognizes this passage as the one connecting the underground lake to the bugbear barracks. After spending time to remove the rest of the barricade they left there, Marcon enters the barracks. He finds the body of the one bugbear they left alive there, still lying in the cot where they last saw him, his throat had been torn open. Throwing back the dirty blanket, Marcon finds the body tightly clutching a small pouch...inside it are a few coins (13ep, 15cp) and a potion. The potion's crimson liquid regularly pulses with dull light, calling to mind a heartbeat.
Near the end of the eight-hour rest, Marcon finishes his search of the barracks and then move west back to the underground lake. Here he spots an old skeleton lying at the bottom of the shallow body, resting about 10 feet from the shore and about 10 feet beneath the surface of the water. He is still standing at the edge of the water gazing at the skeleton when elsewhere in the complex the rest of the party begins to wake from their much needed sleep...
(OOC: anyone who slept for at least 6 hours, or 4 for elves, and consumed the required amount of food/water may update their character sheet with a long rest.)
Rigel chuckles softly at Ronks apt observation. He then pulls his cloak tightly around himself, nibbles at some slightly molded cheese and some stale bread before drifting off for some much needed sleep.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Where it came to dead bugbear, Marcon lingered in the area for just a bit, trying in vain to puzzle out what happened in their absence. But as thinks back to Isolda, he sighs and ties the pouch to his waist if only for the convenience of a carrying case for the potion. The blanket is then put back on the bugbear with a whispered prayer before he's on the move again.
Admittedly by the time he reached the pond he sort of lost track of the others... not that he was good with keep time anyhow. But the idea of taking a dip if only to wake himself crossed his mind. So without much further thought, the torch is set aside just far enough away from shore that his wading into the pond wouldn't mean a rogue wave might plunge the chamber into darkness. And to a degree, the swim had awoken him enough to double down on searching the skeleton to try and pull it out. Or failing that, searching the nearby area for any personal effects he could bury later in a proper grave.
(@Crow: Not sure if you'd need another investigation check for the skeleton if it came to it, but if so see spoiler below.)
The shore of the pool consists of a thin layer of broken shells from strange, pale mussels, and a fishy odor hangs in the air. Marcon feels suddenly invigorated by the chill that ran through his body as he submerged himself in the cold water. At the same time, and perhaps due to the increase of alertness, the ex-farmhand also realizes how weak he had become...while continuing to press through the 8-hour hiatus by doing manual labor had somewhat sated his need for action, the lack of sleep, food and water had further exacerbated his physical and mental exhaustion. He waved away the thoughts and dove towards the skeleton.
Coming within reaching distance, he notices several orc arrows lodged in the skeleton’s ribcage. The skeleton wears two platinum rings on one hand and clutches a wand in the bony fingers of the other.
(OOC: Marcon has sustained a 3rd level of exhaustion.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Van hums to himself before looking around. He pushes some debris out of the way before slowly moving in a circle. He's writing in the air as he does so. After a few minutes, a dome appears at the center of the room where Van is standing. The work done, he collapses to the ground. "We're better of resting now then later," he says to no one in particular.
Once they're safe (for the most part) he draws the Moonblade from his belt and inspects it.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
History: 21
Arcana: 10
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
(OOC: Due to his elven heritage, Vanzaren auto-succeeds on the history check vs. moonblades in general, the arcana roll will be applied to what he can learn about this specific moonblade.)
WHAT VANZAREN RECALLS:
Of all the magic items created by the elves, one of the most prized and jealously guarded is a moonblade. In ancient times, nearly all elven noble houses claimed one such blade. Over the centuries, some blades have faded from the world, their magic lost as family lines have become extinct. Other blades have vanished with their bearers during great quests. Thus, only a few of these weapons remain.
A moonblade passes down from parent to child. The sword chooses its bearer and remains bonded to that person for life. If the bearer dies, another heir can claim the blade. If no worthy heir exists, the sword lies dormant. It functions like a normal longsword until a worthy soul finds it and lays claim to its power.
A moonblade serves only one master at a time. The attunement process requires a special ritual in the throne room of an elven regent or in a temple dedicated to the elven gods.
A moonblade won’t serve anyone it regards as craven, erratic, corrupt, or at odds with preserving and protecting elvenkind. If the blade rejects you, you make ability checks, attack rolls, and saving throws with disadvantage for 24 hours. If the blade accepts you, you become attuned to it and a new rune appears on the blade. You remain attuned to the weapon until you die or the weapon is destroyed.
A moonblade has one rune on its blade for each master it has served...this moonblade has served a total of 4 masters. The first rune always grants a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. Each rune beyond the first grants the moonblade an additional property. The DM chooses each property or determines it randomly on the Moon Blade Properties table.
(POST IN PROGRESS)
MOONBLADE PROPERTIES (3):
60
35
94
Property #1: Increase the bonus to attack and damage rolls by 1, to a maximum of +3. Reroll if the moonblade already has a +3 bonus.
Property #2: Increase the bonus to attack and damage rolls by 1, to a maximum of +3. Reroll if the moonblade already has a +3 bonus.
Property #3: The moonblade functions as a defender:
You gain a +3 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. The first time you attack with the sword on each of your turns, you can transfer some or all of the sword’s bonus to your Armor Class, instead of using the bonus on any attacks that turn. For example, you could reduce the bonus to your attack and damage rolls to +1 and gain a +2 bonus to AC. The adjusted bonuses remain in effect until the start of your next turn, although you must hold the sword to gain a bonus to AC from it.
(OOC: factoring in all bonuses, this moonblade has a total of +6 in addition to to attack and damage rolls of which 3 points may be transferred to AC at the start of each of Vanzaren's turns. Including Vanzaren's STR mod (-1) and proficiency bonus (+3), attack rolls made with this weapon have +5 to 8 bonus and damage rolls have a +2 to 5 bonus, depending on how many points are allocated to AC.)
Van stares at the sword for a while, "What were you doing with someone like Isolde?"
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Having initially been ready to go alongside Rigel, Marcon "entertained" waiting for Van to complete his spell having figured it to be some sort of powerful protection for the next leg of his journey. When the spell however completes and Van pops down talking about rest, an initial look of confusion start turns towards anger.
"You're serious?" He stated more than asked, but once Vanzaren (and whoever else) were of a like mind confirmed his answer. Marcon clenches his jaw in rising anger... before nodded solidly once. "... Aight then. Ya'll go ahead. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go back and check out that other chamber. See if there's anything else left there of use." He states in a tone dripping with barely contained anger. He also hardly waits for a reply before stepping out of the dome to do just as he said.
Initially to see if he could recover any still usable shields from the fallen Bugbears, as well as to spend some time moving them and the remaining corpses onto the pyre in funeral.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
With the exception of Marcon, the party and their companions gather under Vanzaren's magical dome for some much needed rest. All of them were worried about the missing boy, but after so many consecutive battles, their endurance was thoroughly drained. Not knowing what lie ahead, they reluctantly decide to spend the night under the safety of the spell.
Vanzaren held the moonblade and spoke to it, rhetorically asking how it came to be in Isolde's possession...but much to his surprise, the blade spoke back: "Greetings fellow elf...I am Uluthriál and I once belonged to Isolde a long time ago, before she was corrupted by Nepenthe...that dastardly red sword she drags behind her. Eons ago, she was is the service of a great elven wizard...one I believe you know...he was a bladesinger, like you and taught her the ways of your craft. Long before you were in the service of the same teacher, he was an agent of the Harpers, charged with rooting out the evil of Faerún. He gifted me to Isolde and sent her out into the world to find those who deserved justice. She travelled from town to town under the guise of her traveling circus to find and hold accountable those who wrought evil on the weak. Her actions were pure and just for many years, until she confronted another bladesinger...an evil one that wielded Nepenthe. They clashed in battle and both I and Nepethe fell from their grasp...they became locked in hand-to-hand combat until Isolde found Nepethe within her reach. She took that sword in her hand and struck down the evil bladesinger...but little did she know that it was not her opponent that was evil, but rather the red sword in her hand. With that one kill, it corrupted her, just as it had her adversary and she became what she is now...one who thirsts more for blood and conquest than justice and true righteousness. She cast me aside, stuffed me in an old trunk and forgot about me until Harlan found me and gave me to you. I sense the goodness in you Vanzaren Tanidoni, but I also sense darkness as well...you too have killed without cause..."
"It wasnt... I," Van trails off and stares up at the top of the dome. "I didnt mean to kill him. And I proved his point... and if I could go back in time I would do things differently."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
“I know you mean that,” says the sword. The others look on with confusion as Vanzaren carries on a conversation with the seemingly inanimate object. “While you cannot bring back your dead teacher, you may be able to honor him by bringing Isolde back into the fold of righteousness…you must wrest Nepenthe away from her, and place me back in her hands. I will do the rest…”
"v..Van do you know by chance a..any sleep m..magic?" Says garet pointing at Marcon, he stops as he hears the exchange of words between the sword and the wizard "w..what?" he adds and steps away
Van looks up, suddenly realizing and remembering he's not alone. "I... dont... um... it's not what it looks like."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
"Someone should probably go get Marcon and try to convice him that resting now is better than pushing outselves to exhaustion."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
(OOC: the party will begin a long rest as soon as Vanzaren finishes casting tiny hut. If anyone plans for their character to spend the next 8 hours outside the protection of Vanzaren's spell and/or doing anything other than rest activities, I'll need them to post - here in the game thread - explaining what their character is doing while the rest of the party sleeps.)
Ronk throws a few test punches, flexing is fingers to get used to the gauntlets - and also the muscles his muscles have apparently gained. "Huh... Neat." He looks to Van, then looks off in the direction Marcon went, then shrugs. "You can try to convince him to sleep. I can try to convince the wind to not blow. I think I'd succeed before you."
Despite all arguments to the contrary that warred within him, of which their were plentiful, Marcon knelt down, bowed his head, and with a balled fist held over his heart, sent out a prayer to Helm to watch over the bugbear spirits as the transition to whatever afterlife awaited him. After a few minutes, he then regained the wherewithal to focus on other tasks; such as clearing any webbing that was in danger of spreading the fire, as well as searching the room over the next hour in search of anything that could be of use beyond the Bugbears arms and armor, which he made a point of setting aside before committing them to their funeral by pyre.
He couldn't be sure if the questions where his own thoughts or that of the voice he heard last time. But so long as he stayed committed to the mind numbing task of his search, it had been easy at first ignore them. But once he felt certain enough of having done a thorough job, it became too much for him. He needed to do more, and so struck up a torch and began his way south from the throne room to check out the path beyond it. To scout ahead, or so he told himself, and at least save everyone time later in following a "pointless" path. All without thought of doing so carefully and quietly, figuring his torch to be too bright a beacon to bother with such care.
Though after about hundred and fifty feet worth of walk, or less so assuming he came to realize the passages tread roped back onto to familiar territory, Marcon would try to make his way back to the throne room to spend the remaining hours staring into the flame, absently chewing on rations as he'd contemplate his future...
-Investigation: 16.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
After stacking the corpses on the fire and the remains of the dead bugbears' weapons and armor neatly by the door, Marcon conducts an exhaustive search of the throne room. Surrounding the low-burning fire in the center of the room are several dirty, worn sleeping bags. They smell like a combination of wet dog and feces and a couple are infested with fleas. This part of his search reveals nothing more than the tiny corpse of a decomposing mouse.
Next, the ex-farmhand turns his attention to the table in the southwest corner of the room. Here he finds a worn but functional alchemist set and several empty potion bottles, mostly broken although two remain intact. A powdery, crimson-colored residue lines the insides of each of the glass containers. Several pages of hand-written notes are scattered about the table as well, but the elegant, flowing script is written in a language Marcon does not understand.
Then, Marcon sets off - alone - southward out of the throne room. (OOC: see image posted in Discord to reveal the areas that Marcon searches while the rest of the party sleeps.) The halls are eerily quiet, with the exception of the man's footsteps as he plodded along, making no attempt to hide his presence from anyone or anything that may be watching or following him. The western end of the hallway south of the throne room is collapsed, so he goes east. Directly ahead, he finds the cavern in which the party encountered the bugbear henchmen that were trying to retrieve the pair of enchanted gauntlets from under a large boulder. The corpse of the doppelgänger has disappeared, but the bugbear corpses remain where they fell. He searches the area again, but finds nothing else of interest.
Heading back to the hall, Marcom finds another path leading directly south. He recognizes this passage as the one connecting the underground lake to the bugbear barracks. After spending time to remove the rest of the barricade they left there, Marcon enters the barracks. He finds the body of the one bugbear they left alive there, still lying in the cot where they last saw him, his throat had been torn open. Throwing back the dirty blanket, Marcon finds the body tightly clutching a small pouch...inside it are a few coins (13ep, 15cp) and a potion. The potion's crimson liquid regularly pulses with dull light, calling to mind a heartbeat.
Near the end of the eight-hour rest, Marcon finishes his search of the barracks and then move west back to the underground lake. Here he spots an old skeleton lying at the bottom of the shallow body, resting about 10 feet from the shore and about 10 feet beneath the surface of the water. He is still standing at the edge of the water gazing at the skeleton when elsewhere in the complex the rest of the party begins to wake from their much needed sleep...
(OOC: anyone who slept for at least 6 hours, or 4 for elves, and consumed the required amount of food/water may update their character sheet with a long rest.)
Rigel chuckles softly at Ronks apt observation. He then pulls his cloak tightly around himself, nibbles at some slightly molded cheese and some stale bread before drifting off for some much needed sleep.
**This Space for Rent**
Where it came to dead bugbear, Marcon lingered in the area for just a bit, trying in vain to puzzle out what happened in their absence. But as thinks back to Isolda, he sighs and ties the pouch to his waist if only for the convenience of a carrying case for the potion. The blanket is then put back on the bugbear with a whispered prayer before he's on the move again.
Admittedly by the time he reached the pond he sort of lost track of the others... not that he was good with keep time anyhow. But the idea of taking a dip if only to wake himself crossed his mind. So without much further thought, the torch is set aside just far enough away from shore that his wading into the pond wouldn't mean a rogue wave might plunge the chamber into darkness. And to a degree, the swim had awoken him enough to double down on searching the skeleton to try and pull it out. Or failing that, searching the nearby area for any personal effects he could bury later in a proper grave.
(@Crow: Not sure if you'd need another investigation check for the skeleton if it came to it, but if so see spoiler below.)
-Investigation: 6.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
The shore of the pool consists of a thin layer of broken shells from strange, pale mussels, and a fishy odor hangs in the air. Marcon feels suddenly invigorated by the chill that ran through his body as he submerged himself in the cold water. At the same time, and perhaps due to the increase of alertness, the ex-farmhand also realizes how weak he had become...while continuing to press through the 8-hour hiatus by doing manual labor had somewhat sated his need for action, the lack of sleep, food and water had further exacerbated his physical and mental exhaustion. He waved away the thoughts and dove towards the skeleton.
Coming within reaching distance, he notices several orc arrows lodged in the skeleton’s ribcage. The skeleton wears two platinum rings on one hand and clutches a wand in the bony fingers of the other.
(OOC: Marcon has sustained a 3rd level of exhaustion.)