((Final note: your constitution scores go up by 1, and it seems that DDB has done this automatically, yay! It's listed as a "misc bonus" when you look-up the backend of your ability scores.))

 ((Uh, sorry, but I'm getting the Black Dragon mishap when looking for the Maker's Mark. It might be because I'm not in the campaign. If you PM me a link to that I'll right up a blank to enter(which will be swapped for Jiron once Artificer comes out) in and see if that fixes it.)) Aside from that...

Jiron stops scribbling suddenly as the halfling is revealed. He isn't sure whether to be resentful, horrifed, confused, or relieved that all Gaians aren't evil. Jiron quickly shifts back to his notebook, quickly scribbling Sacrifice? Kithkin? Then the lightning struck. The bolt of energy crashed down from the sky, and the hobgoblin's pen and notebook seemed to leap from his hands as the electricity raced down his arm into his palm. Screaming in agony as he doubled over, he painfully watched as the sparking threads carved a symbol into his flesh, tying the scars into an intricate, knotted design.

As the pain faded, Jiron rubbed his thumb over the new mark. He could make out runes throughout that looked like ancient draconic. Forge, Builder, Thunder, Vision. Lifting his head and looking around, he saw that Skabb and Skritch next to him had similar, new, glowing scars, and the young tinkerer suddenly became aware of all of the gazes on him. He felt all to conscious of his worn armor, his longer, unkempt hair, and his copper-rimmed glasses. Slowly, he picked up his pen and notebook, and the Thundercannon. He couldn't breath, looking over the crowd, as he realized, he was Chosen.

The last few moments were mostly a collage of jumbled lights and sounds for Skritch. Just a swirl of colors and flash of memory. A cauldron….a sacrifice….a…purple cloudy egg? Then the searing lightning. Everything was light. Everything was fire. Then everything was darkness. Slowly, pin-pricks of what seemed like stars broke the inky void of Skritch’s vision. But not stars, for they moved like fireflies he remembered watching on back home in the Shadowbraid. And there was a sound. Maybe like a distant tide washing against the shore? No. Less uniform. As the small lights clarified themselves before his eyes, Skritch recalled the myriad of Dancing Lights that had lit the main square of Dorborden beneath the massive tree. The sounds rushing to his ears harmonized as well, revealing the gasps and commotions of the gathered throng below the roof-side ledge he had been sitting on. Skritch was on his back….maybe. Directions and orientations were still tantalizingly outside his grasp.

Sitting up…or bending over? Skritch felt the sting of the flesh on his chest. Delicately reaching with nimble fingers he traced the pattern seared into his skin. He felt its power. Sensed its import. Tentatively, in a low trill, Skritch let out a questioning caw. “Skritch…..Chosen?”

"And so the chosen have been, well, chosen!" Baba Aga claps gleefully as those chosen are given some breathing room. Brand, being in the audience, is given some considerable space as some gawk at him. Baba Aga's eyes scan the minotaur, scan the other chosen in the audience, and finally lands on the three of you on the rooftop. Her grin widens as she spots Skritch. For being an old woman, her eyesight is certainly excellent! "Ehehehe! I will have to arrange an audience with all of you-"

"Those with Oethea's blessing will shape our destiny, but this is not without cost. Among the chosen, a traitor will arise. Take heed, noble people. Victory will not be handed to you by Oethea. It must be earned. If fate wills us to succumb to calamity, then it will be so. Only the chosen can direct our path." 

"Cryptic as ever, eh, oracle?" Baba Aga pulls the kithkin away from the audience and stands in front of them. "Now, now, we must celebrate in honor of Oethea! She has given us her blessing in the form of, what appears to be, a hundred chosen. Come, let us make merry!"

Confetti explodes over the crowd in the shades of colors that have come to represent Walpurgisnacht. Music plays, leaving only a few uneasy about the mention of a 'traitor' among the chosen. It looks like a parade is even starting to form and march down the narrow, but open street, showcasing the magical and dance talent of several Oethean performers.

(When Barlow and Skabb get a chance, please describe your tattoo and it's location! This is important for future interactions. I am DMing a live game tonight (US EST) so I won't be able to reply much until tomorrow. Feel free to party, angst, talk amongst yourselves during this Walpurgistnacht.)

(Whoops, had this halfway typed up a while ago, but just came back to finish and post. I suppose this is how Brand makes his exit.)

Brand had been envious throughout Baba Aga's ritual. Such power, such control over the masses. It was the dominating effect he desired for himself over his homeland. At mention of "The Chosen", his interest was piqued, but held in check by the masses which seemed to dwindle his odds of winning such a lottery.

It was when the lightning struck that things went south quickly. After the peel of thunder and awe of those around, Brand's mind was flooded with newfound consciousness. Voices which came as passing whispers before now shouted in chorus. Stunned and horrified faces projected voices and statements without spoken words. Seconds passed like minutes, and Brand could feel himself slipping. With a defiant roar, Brand pushed against a burning sensation above his brow until he could almost feel it ripping away. Those assembled inmediately before him  stumbled and fell over the ones behind, while those a few rows behind retreated a few paces.

All this passed within the span of heartbeats, but it felt like a cosmic war with him standing alone on a side of the field. Onlookers went on to say after how a raving minotaur went mad after being chosen by Oethea and summoned a terrible gale which parted the crowd for him to flee.

Skabb trembled with exitement as the colours started flashing before his eyes. This was something new, something strange, and exactly what the curious tabaxi had hoped for since the moment he had heard of Walpurgisnacht. The oracle is what intrigued him the most, did she communicate with Oethea directly? Was it her voice that came through her? Skabb drifted off into thoughts of speaking to actual deities or being a conduit of their power. The oracles voice became a distant murmur as he pondered upon the unimaginable. His limbs started to feel more numb by the minute. How long had he sat there, day-dreaming about the strange?

Just as Skabb became aware of the fact he wasn't listening to such an important speech an unimaginable pain shot through his body, only for a split second. As the pain disappeared, just as quickly as it had racked his body, the tabaxi felt a burning sensation at the back of his neck, like a needle of molten iron was pressed into his upper spine, slowly. He looked around for Jiron and Skritch.. Nothing.. He was standing alone in complete darkness. No, wait, not alone, a grey surface.. A mirror? He stared into his own reflection and tried to turn around so he could see where the burning pain came from. A hole? In his spine? He reached for the void on the base of his neck, slowly. The moment the tabaxi claw entered the dark pit he felt a tremendous vacuum from it. He couldn't resist. His arm got sucked into the pitch black crack, the pain was unbearable. More and more of his body disappeared into the hole. The cat-like body twisted and turned as it imploded. Visions of strange symbols flashed before his eyes, stone buildings burning, wooden towers growing out of cavern ceilings, marble statues decorated in gemstone and limestone monuments turning to dust right before his eyes.

Skabb opened his eyes again just as the oracle finished their final phrase. Another day-dream? He reached for the back of his neck. The skin on his back had dents in it he hadn't noticed before, three spirals and an ellipse in the middle? He traced the strange symbol with his fingers and looked to Jiron. "THIS! THIS! WHAT IS THIS????" Skabb tapped his claw agains the symbol at the base of his neck so hard a couple drops of blood oozed out of the dream-marks iris. 

((Hey, found some spare time when everyone left the house to either shop or play soccer. Won't be able to post anything else before Monday. Rue can just take care of Skabb for me as per usual. Also, woo chosen!!))

Jiron's head spun. He was Chosen? there was a Traitor? What would Father make of this? Eventually, Skabb's cries broke through the delirium of the panic attack and Jiron was able to get his bearings. "What? Oh, right..." the hobgoblin muttered as he examined the nape of the Tabaxi's neck. "It looks like a large eye, with three swirls extending out from it in a triad..." Breathing shakily as he returned his gaze to his favored left palm, he barely managed to notice that his pen, currently in his other hand,, had had its quill tip broken in the 'excitement.' He cautiously shifted it over to the marked hand and focused on it, still trying to put himself back together. The hobgoblin would ahh to repair it back at the Vault. Suddenly, the scar on his palm erupted with electric blue light, causing the young man to jump as trails of arcane energy latched on to the cracks in the pen, running along them, bringing them together. Slowly, the light faded and the pen was good as new, noe signed of any damage of even use.

Feeling   A breeze hit him, Jiron looked down to see a familiar Minotaur running through the streets, a seeming twister of gusts swirling around him has he clutched his glowing forehead. The hobgoblin staggered back down into the streets, no longer even noticing the crowd as he collapsed back against the wall of a building, still tracing the Maker's Mark with his finger. "Wha... What does this mean?"

"I don't know..." croaked a voice, giving Jiron an response, which he hadn't expected. Standing next to the hobgoblin was the small, green, slimy form of a grung, with their own mark, glowing against the poisonous skiing.

"Hello..."

Skabb rubs his palm against the mark. "Chosen? I am intrigued." He stares in awe as Jiron mends the pen. "Fascinating. Did your mark do that?" He ignores the antisocial nature of the hobgoblin and pulls him up by the marked hand and starts studying it. "I can't study my own so you will have to endure this, Jiron." He turns the hand around almost violently, studying the marks up close with a firm grip around the wrist. "Did the mark give you the power to do that? That might mean I have powers too, if i could just figure out what.." He drops the hand, letting the bloodflow into Jiron hand return to normal, and starts mumbling to himself as he does different hand gestures, trying to figure out what his "powers" are. 

((Just so I'm clear, Jiron wandered off the roof and met a frogman and Skabb also left the roof to study Jiron's mark, leaving Skritch on the roof. Also we've lost sight of Brand as he went crazy down the street somewhere?))

((Oop, missed the part where he staggered back to the ground. My, b. Well I guess that Skabb leapt off the roof too.))

(Skabb managed to land on the ground due to being a cat. Brand did run off all crazy like. When I get home today, I will proceed the tale. That's probably in a couple or few hours. Let me know where you all would like to meet. It seems easy to put you at the Smiling Gnoll, but maybe you'd like to meet at the wall given the quest you are on now, which is to recover red wood. You will learn soon about your audience with the witch.)

((I'm cool with meeting at the northern wall. Skritch is pretty driven to do his task and I think would also likely want to be away from the city, especially if the tenor of the population has changed and everyone is gawking and bothering Chosen folk, expecting them to....."do something" or whatever.))

Most of Walpurgisnacht had folks staring at you, gawking, and prodding/poking you. Or you fled and found some form of a sanctuary after losing the crowd. You didn't sleep well as you mulled over your mark and newfound status as a 'chosen.' You are aware of the cantrip you have gained and may lack control over it. At some point, a leafy note was left on your door indicating that Baba Aga was aware of you and will call for you 'soon.'

The bright morning sun mocks you as you walk toward the north gate which lies between the Ayabis and Sanikra wards. The streets buzz with life around you as everyone discusses Walpurgisnacht. Most are talking about the chosen, the oracle, and Baba Aga. For a moment, you are thankful no one has recognized you. You approach in a mummified state compelled to arrive based on a promise you forgot until you came to the gate.

The arched gate before you is enormous. Dedicated to the Yuan'ti Ayabis, it appears to be made with golden bricks and green motifs of snakes slithering toward the center of the arch. A snake's head protrudes from the center and casts a judgmental gaze toward you as you meet up under it.

You group up and exchange pleasantries. You might be dying to talk about the marks, but are able to hold it in long enough until you get past the gate and slums.

The journey you embark on is due north, away from the busy road that leads into the north gate. You can choose to travel through the slums or follow the path for a while.

(You have all reached level 2, yay! Once everyone has posted at least 1 roleplay post interacting with each other outside the gate, we will proceed with a skill challenge for travel.)

Skabb smiles at Jiron and Skritch and gives a slight nod towards Brand as a greeting for each of them. 
(Skabb would like to go through the slums, please)

As they pass through the Ayabis gate and into the slums Skabbs demeanor changes slightly. "It's strange to think that in such a wonderful city like this one there are still people who are reduced to dwelling in slums, barely keeping themselves alive on dry crusts and rat meat." Skabb looks for any children playing in the filthy streets and creates small illusions rats and stray cats dressed up in human clothes as they pass by each of the children. Each of the illusory animals doesn't move, but does a strange pose, different each time. "My mark has granted me the power to cause illusions, albeit small ones." He creates his mark palm of his hand an whisks it away as he finishes his sentence, smiling at the party, before moving on towards their destination.

Watching Skabb exert his newfound powers, Skritch touches the mark on his chest, still a bit tender under the tattered shirt from the night before. He knew that power it granted him, having used it briefly on the stone walls of the alley beneath his roof-top bed by accident. Reaching for that power once more, Skritch willed it through him down into the street, through the broken stone and to the nearby walls of the buildings his friends walked beside. The dilapidated street around them knitts to form smooth passage. On the stone of the nearby walls, colors and designs, chalk-like, form a fanciful mural of vines and flowers.

"Skritch make better." The aven says with a curt nod.

(After marks are received)

The city screamed as Brand charged the streets. Onlookers gawked as he fled, turning to whisper to others, but their voices rang through his mind. No mind was safe, no thought hidden. Being around so many was maddening. There were always whispers, and more than a few fights broke out because of them, but this was different. It was as though the peel of lightning awoke a hidden awareness of the minotaur's mind.

Rushing through the street, Brand bounced off the occasional barrier until he landed on the door of a tavern. He lurched inside, but there was no safe harbor from the voices. Before he knew where he truly was, he was at the bar, reaching over for anything he could find. When his hand landed on a bottle, he grabbed hold and started to retreat. A meaty hand too hold of him and an orc stood with anger at the attempted theft. His mind recited punishments and condemnations as Brand drew his dagger. The orc reeled in terror before half the blade was plunged into the countertop.

A few grueling minutes passed before Brand found an abandoned pier and drowned the voices with pilfered drink. His reflection in the water showed his disgraceful mark had been burned over by something new - something resembling a twisting gale. He didn't want it; he didn't want any of it. He slamped his head against the pier and raked his forehead against nearby posts, but the mark remained in defiance of his blooded reflection. Vision faded and spiraled until he retched into the harbor and passed out.

The Yuan-Ti Ayabis on the edge of town flashed in his dreams. Standing before it was a robed minotaur, covered in blood from a ritual sacrifice. Brand knew him as Plaekesis the Seer. Was this a fevered dream, or some vision? Before he could decide, Plaekesis shot an arm out and pointed to the woods outside town. The scene faded to mist before a question could be posed.

Brand woke with his head hung off the pier. The voices from the night before were gone, but they were replaced by a headache from multiple sources. Staggering to his feet, he set off into the city. He made a stop at the bar he stormed through the night prior, his dagger still planted in the bar. He retrieved the thick-bladed weapon and took another 2 bottles from the bar. A new bartender watched the bull, but Brand just gave a scowl.

Arriving at the Ayabis, brand threw an empty bottle to the side of the road when he reached the others, "Are we leaving?" He grumbled.

Jiron walked through the Ayabis ward in silence. Zellix had been waiting for him when he returned to the Elder's Vault. As occasionally happens with the Mind Flayer, the only thing that was communicated to the hobgoblin was a feeling of... knowing, pride, something. Jiron was terrified by all of this. He had never wanted to be a hero, or at least not follow in Father's footsteps.

When morning came, Zellix let him go. The hobgoblin was supremely thankful no one seemed to have recognized him. He didn't say anything as he met up with the others. As the others started displaying their powers, Jiron did find them interesting, but cautiously tried to shift the subject from their terrifying impending fate. "You know, I wonder if there is any pixie dust in these woods. I need some for a magic bag I'm trying to make, I could try and buy some, but it's pretty expensive..."

Skritch's head bobs at Brand's question. "Yes. Go north into woods. Fight angry sticks. Get red wood for Baba Aga."

You travel north past the slums and travel for some time until you reach the edge of the forest. The woods are somewhat dark as the canopy of trees hangs tightly together overhead allowing only some sunlight to get through. From what Baba Aga described, the red wood is due north, and if you trust her, you believe you should be able to find it or signs of where it could be. Even in your short time here, you've heard stories, rumors, about these woods. 

These woods are often called "The Witch Pines," as it is believed that Baba Aga has magical garden groves scattered within. Those who travel into the Witch Pines typically are attacked by wild animals and run away. Some are never heard from again. Evil little buggers known as Twig Blights plague these woods, but you can also find wolves, bears, and other wildlife common to forested areas. What will you do to find the red wood?

This is a skill challenge, and I was inspired by this article to run the challenge for travel, because typically travel is a bit boring, eh? If you don't know what a skill challenge is, check the spoiler below. Here is how it will work: one at a time, you will post a scene. This scene can involve just about anything as long as it fits the setting as described above. The scene must involve your character taking an action that requires a skill check. This action can be just about anything. Some examples: trying to track an animal, looking for cooking/alchemy, finding/avoiding a fight, staying the course, seeing if you know anything about this red wood, etc. Then you will make a check! As long as the skill you roll within your post seems relevant, I'll allow it.

You must, as a group, obtain 3 successes before you obtain 3 failures. I'll resolve your posts as they come in when I'm able. 

What is a skill challenge?

((It warms my heart that skill challenges survived the 4E era and made a home in 5E. They were always a fun way to do group exploration where everyone could contribute in some way.))

Leading the way for his companions through this thick wood that reminded him vaguely of home, Skritch cautiously scanned the area ahead of him for signs of danger. They had been traveling for quite a while, and while he knew his intended path led to the north, he doubted that the main road, little more than a dirt path at this point, would send him right to the resources he sought, guarded as they were. Looking to the trees above to get a sense of this forest, Skritch spied a trio of crows perched on a nearby branch. Pausing, the aven raised his hand to bring the adventuring procession to a halt. "Skritch ask for directions." He said, pointing to the three crows before walking off the path to climb the nearby tree.

Unlike most birds, the crows remained where they were, almost curious at the Kenku's ascent to the base of their branch. Using Speak with Animals, a power conferred to him through the his ties with his Mistress, the Thorn Witch, Skritch caws out to the crows. "Skritch need help. Look for red wood guarded by nest of angry sticks." To illustrate the point, he takes a pair of twigs from his pocket and dances them around in the air. "Crow friends know where?" To sweeten the exchange, Skritch pulls a shiny glass bead from his pocket and sets it on the crook of the branch near the crows.

Persuasion: 20 (Or with advantage if the bribe confers it: 14)